Hallodean Assassins

Melee

Left, Right, Left, Right

Left, Right, Left, Right

Left, Right, Left, Right

Sweat poured down his face and his whole body by extension. Every muscle in his lean body tensed and relaxed in perfect coordination to land each blow with deadly accuracy and power.

Above him the Panamanian sun shone down, with each ray adding to the sweltering temperature of the sauna. And though the shade had little effect, had it not been for the mighty trees that sheltered him, he would have long fainted.

Under a Giant Ceiba tree amidst a forest clearing stood a young man no taller than Chenin, just around 5"9". But for now our dear twins are not to be thought of.

He wore no shoes, his knee-length shorts were of a rough fabric he did not know the name of, his sleeveless shirt was of the same material, Calico. On his hands were two gloves, made from something he knew quite well, the hide of a wild boar he had slaughtered.

In each hand he had a bamboo sword. They were heavy. The bulge in his biceps when he held them at rest would tell one so.

But for now they were not at rest. As blow after blow he struck the trees trunk, relentlessly. In size comparison it was as a toddler beating a grown adult. The tree was at least twenty feet tall and he couldn't see the summit.

His curly brown hair was now saturated with debris from its branches. For every time he struck its bark the tree would shower him with some form of dust or leaf.

But he didn't stop, for he was angry.

"Why" he thought to himself.

The original idea was not to get angry at the tree, but to work off his grief. But as he now realized, he was angry and now the tree he loved was as good as dead.

Ever since birth an uncanny amount of strength had existed in him, especially his arms. He had always been ambidextrous and could perform any task with both hands, his coordination was equal in both appendages. And neither of them tired as he continued his onslaught.

He was trying not to get upset. He knew what would happen if he did. But he felt it.

He felt that hot familiar feeling surge through his body and towards his hands. It was as if tubes were pumping lava into his palms. He felt hot but it was now a feeling he welcomed.

He began to strike at a faster pace. Each blow now landing at sonic speed.

He saw what he was expecting and what sealed the fate of that ancient tree, the bamboo swords were now glowing blue as he felt a cold energy flowing into them.

Left.

He saw the sword leave a burn mark on the trunk.

Right.

He saw a deep gash form from which smoke bellowed.

Left.

This blow formed a gash that spanned half the diameter of the trunk.

This proved too much for the suffering tree, who finally gave in to her enormous weight and began to topple. It tilted to the left, towards the gash. A deafening crack rocked the forest as the tree reluctantly succumbed to gravity.

It fell over after it had screamed its second to last sound. And made a mighty tremor as it fell over into another tree, accompanied with its last deafening sound.

Birds flew from branches and small animals ran to and fro.

It was at the expense of a tree but now he was calm. The swords reverted to their previous form. He dropped to the ground and let them go.

He looked to the blazing sun without squinting and a laugh escaped him. A laugh of pure bliss. A laugh that would be perceived as maniacal had it been witnessed by a person not understanding the context.

His green eyes scanned the lush forest and he got up to his feet. Leaving the swords on the ground.

He walked away from the tree without a backwards glance. Not worried if someone would find it. All they would think of is an axe. And someone mistakenly burning the stem.

Karas thought to himself.

"I should really get home."

He set off to his village.

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