《Manifest of Dao》 Prologue - Do not vomit, boy! It''s feeding time again. He flinched as he heard his mothers'' steps nearby. He tried to hide under his bed. He stilled his breathing. His whole body tensed when he heard the steps coming very close to his bed. His hands clasped on his mouth. His eyes, wide, he watched the nearing steps very, very closely. The steps came closer until he could see the skinny feet of his mother. His tears were freely flowing out. He blinked for a short moment. This distraction was enough for his mothers'' face to resurface under his bed. "No, I don''t want to eat anymore, mother! Please, please, stop!" Instead, his mother ignored his protest as she was used to it. She grabbed a hold of his small round body and dragged him with her. "I''m feeling ill, mother!" He shouted while he tried to wiggle out of her iron grips. "Boy, it''s only for the best," She muttered to herself in a desperate attempt to convince herself. The boy cried, his sobs were sounding out of the room. "Here it is, Mary," A man in dirty clothes that didn''t seem to fit his meager body, said to her. His clothes were too big for his stature. Just like his mother. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation."Is it fresh, George?" She asked without looking at him, instead, she tried to pry her sons'' mouth open. What he brought was a fresh looking corpse that wasn''t even cold, yet. A young female bashed by a stone. He could smell the putrid stench, mixed with piss and shit. He averted his eye and tried to ignore the corpse on the ground, but his mother held his head in an iron grip and forced him to acknowledge the corpse, a hopeful young girl from his village. Her dream was to marry him. He couldn''t hold it anymore. His vomit rushed out, except that his mother noticed it and sealed off his mouth with her left hand. "Do not vomit, boy!" She screamed, her exhaustion visible as she breaks into a coughing fit. "Alex, please do not make it harder for us as it is. We love you really! You will thank us in the future." George tried to reassure him while he took a sharp stone from somewhere and tried to cut up parts of the body. Alex noted that there were black spots in his sights. They slowly spread, until darkness claimed him. Unconscious as he was his mother will have an easier time feeding him the bits. Chapter I - Conscription On a farm, a young girl worked with her brothers on the fields. Scythe on her shoulders, she walked through the well-trodden path leading to a grain field. Hosting the scythe high up, she moved it with her little trembling hands, cutting a bunch of stalks. The reflection of the sun''s glare from the scythe attacked her eyes. She squinted them, trying to lessen the pain on her sensitive eyes. After some time, she took a bunch of stalks she cut and carried it to her father who was also working on the field. His sweat glistened on his naked upper body, skinny to the bone. His long fingers were wrapped onto the handle of his scythe. He saw her coming with a bunch of stalks to which he smiled and stopped his work. "Let your brothers help you if it''s too much," He spoke to her, resuming his work afterward. "Yes, father," She said, obeyed him obediently like the good girl she was. "Good girl." Humming merrily while carrying the stalks, she imagined herself going to an adventure, fighting against evil monsters and rescuing the princess. The path before her transformed into a hellish battlefield where evil grotesque monsters overshadowed by their ugly faces loomed for their preys. Heroes were seen fighting these monsters with their sharpened swords. She- - fell to the ground as her right foot got stuck in a hole. Pain enveloped her foot as she tried to get her foot out of it. She cried a little at the pain. With her dirty hand, she wiped the tears. Although she didn''t want to trouble her brothers, she couldn''t endure the pain anymore, so she shouted to her brothers, "H-hendrik! Jeremy! H-help! I-i got s-s-stuck!" Fortunately, her brothers were nearby and could hear her bawling. "Alex, what happen?!" She pointed with her trembling finger at the hole her foot got stuck. Cold swept into her stuck foot. Seeing the problem they both took carefully her foot out of the hole while she tried to endure through the pain as her brother pulled on her ankle a little bit to get the necessary leverage her foot out of the hole. She whimpered when Hendrik got her foot out, he gently touched her foot and asked, "Does it hurt?" Alex nodded her head frantically. Jeremy wipped his dirty hands on his shirt and reassured her with a hug, his body embraced her little form. She leans into his touch, grabbing onto his shirt. She cheered quickly up with the help of her brothers. Jeremy took the stalks and carried them to the stored stalks, while Hendrik carried her in his arms. She sighed happily in his arms. Sweat gathered on Hendrik''s forehead, he panted loud, trying to get his breathing under control as he used his remaining energy to carry his little sister Late in the night, Alex was dozing off on a bunch of stalks, making herself comfortable. The cold bothered her little form. Tossing back and forth in her makeshift bed she tried to sleep. The wind blew some of the stalks, giving her skin goosebumps, she shivered in the cold. Trying to ignore it, was an impossible task for her, so she distracted herself with her imaginary world. Meanwhile, her parents were outside discussing something they didn''t want the children to hear. Her father who held a torch with his left hand, grabbed a handful of his hair with his other hand and sighed in defeat, he said, "Mary, are you certain that the rumors are true?" "Yes, dear. The wife of the chief told me about it. She got the information from her cousin in the other village," She couldn''t hold her tears back anymore, so she cried. Her husband took her into the embrace, while he himself teared up. "It will be alright. We will survive." He tried to reassure her, and maybe even himself. "B-but what about Alex. If they discover..." "Even our neighbors didn''t notice that our girl is a boy. Even then they wouldn''t rat us out. Back then I saved his life from a bandit attack." He didn''t let the doubt enter his mind, he knew it wasn''t completely hopeless. They both stilled, uncertain of the future, apprehension crept into their very being. A loud scream awoke them, they were worried. Her husband took the lead and followed the source of the scream, while she gripped his hand so hard that her knuckles whitened. Her heart pounded in her ears, she tried to stay calm yet as she saw the source, she couldn''t help but cry in distress. Her husband tried to comfort her to no avail. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. He saw the soldiers occupying the village center, dragging all villagers to the middle. Their torches illuminated their gloomy faces, some even missing body parts. The soldiers'' shadows morphed into horrifying gestalts as they patrolled the village. One of the patrols discovered them. His wife tried to drag him with her, but he stopped her from committing a stupid decision. A squad of soldiers walked to them, the leader, his face scarred as if someone burned his face, commanded him, "You there! Get to the center! Your children, too!" "Y-yes, milord!" Her husband spoke in affirmation as he tried to be the secure rock for her. "I''m no lord! Repeat that once more, ye limbs shall part ways with ye body!" The leader said and spit at them, then commanded his squad, "Take a look at the peasants'' shack. Drag the children off! Double time! You don''t want to explain to our Lord why we needed more time!" Her blood ran cold. An uneasy feeling overcame her. The shadows of the soldiers glared at her as they dragged off her children. Some villagers struggled in the soldiers hold. One of the villagers was lucky to escape from a soldier, but he didn''t make it far as a very particular obese man in blue robes made a grabbing motion with his hand, an invisible force took hold of the villager who tried to run and squished him like a bug. Blood exploded from the force, spread to the other villagers, some vomited, some fainted. This show of force frightened the rest of the villagers into obedience. The obese man floated easily to the center of the village like he was swimming in water. His fat chest jiggled at the motion. The jiggle echoed through the dark night. She gulped, her fingers clamped onto the arm of her husband. Please, please not my husband, she repeated it like a mantra. After he floated to the center, he completely stilled and let the silence go on. Some of the villagers shuffled, uncertain of what he wanted, doubt poisoned their minds with fear. Only his soldiers were not affected at all, their only expressionless faces spoke volumes about the situation. She paled at the implications. She hoped they wouldn''t find it out... Without warning his monstrous mouth cracked open, his razor-sharp teeth were an imitating sight for the villagers. His long tongue came out like a serpent, it flickered a little bit as if tasting their sweat, sweet fear. "All males belong from now on to the Kingdom of Juvina." After he laid out the death sentence for her family. What else could it be if not death by war? Her mind went numb, the screams and cries began, some even tried to fight the soldiers. They died quickly. "Silence!" The obese man commanded. Everything from animal to human stilled, no sound escaped. The dark night was once more silenced. "All males. I said." His breath knocked villagers near him to the ground, overwhelmed the children. "I will not repeat myself." His voice cracked like thunder to the ears of the villagers. They reluctantly separated themselves, her husband and her two sons, too. Only her ''daughter'' remained at her side. She tried to stay strong for Alex as he bawled, while she cried in silence. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She comforted her ''daughter'', wiping off her tears with her dress. She could smell the dread, or was is in her own mind? The obese man suddenly opened his eyes and focused them on her and Alex. His piercing gaze, penetrated their inner being in a matter of seconds. Very intimate. Their breathing stilled, time stopped. Everything lost its color. Then as quickly as he opened his eyes, he closed them. Everything resumed. Breathing. Time. The soldiers continued to drag the conscripted males away. "Wh-hat h-happened?" She muttered a little numb as a headache made itself noticeable. Alex, however, received a familiar feeling. His stomach growled, he didn''t eat at all since he woke up into this nightmare. She glanced at her ''daughter''s'' tear stricken face, the pain in her heart was unbearable to watch her lovely family forced to part ways. They aren''t gone, she tried to convince herself. The last people in the villages were the wives and daughters. Their mourning disturbed the gloomy night. Chapter II - The last rider On a bleak dawn, soldiers marched in silence down the well-trodden path in the dreary forest, surrounded by mist. Apprehension appeared on their faces as they could only see the back of the other soldiers in front of them. Fortunately, the standards symbolizing a red fat dragon were held high by the bearers, lifting the overall morale of the army. Some even sung, never hitting the right tone, to cheer up their comrades. One of the soldiers took a quick glance at a floating obese man, Lord Gregory, hovering at the head of the army. His view changed to that of his white knuckles, gripping the handle of the spear. The reflection of the spearhead caught his eyes, it was crude, just a pointy metal head. Nothing fancy. He hoped it wouldn''t break off... Besides him clasped another soldier, a young adult, onto his arm in reassurance. He glanced at him, signaled with his eyes his doubts. Another soldier caught his eye, it was a familiar face which looked straight at him in the eye. He nodded. He will survive, he promised to himself, after all, he must protect his little sister, Alex. He wanted to play with her again, petting her little head as she told him about her adorable adventures, hugging her when she cries. The doubts in his mind, they vanished. A loud shout awoke him out of his reverie. He readied himself. Cold air seeped into his very bones. Shivering he wrapped his arms around him to ward off the cold. His other comrades did the same, yet the temperature got colder as the time went. Lord Gregory opened his eyes and squinted, piercing the thick mist to search for the enemies. He inhaled deeply into his belly, inflating the fat mass, then held his breath. Time slowed down until it came to a complete standstill. Exactly seven seconds passed. He pushed the air out of his lungs. His breath swept through the ranks of the army, filling the soldiers with warm. Their spirit lifted, they readied themselves for the coming battle. One began to chant, "Gregory! Gregory! Gregory!" His fellow soldiers copied him, not long after the whole army chanted, their combined voices gave off pressure. A wide smirk graced his big round face as he listened to the chant of his army. The spoken words could not be ignored. It seeped into the world, generating an invisible pressure on the surroundings. The mist gave way to the pressure, showing the once hidden enemies who were led by someone of Gregory''s similar stature. In contrast to Gregory''s army, the enemy army didn''t chant but marched in a silent tight formation at them. Heavy boots pounded into the dirt as the enemy army moved into the range of his army. Their armor reflected the sunlight, glistened, showing that it was well polished and maintained. The enemy soldiers'' shields, big and round, displayed a giant fat yellow dog. The faces were set into an expressionless mask, eyes boring into his men and unsettling them. Yet his men held their head high and just chanted louder. He frowned a little at the silent display of power from his enemy. He sneered at the enemy leader, showing his razor sharp teeth. His mouth expanded once more. Air surged into it. Time crawled at a snail''s pace. The whole world ceased to exist. The Path extended. The doubts he faced, disappeared. The Weight accumulated. The pressure his army gathered, grew. The Ranks evolved. The challenges he conquered, resurfaced. Tied into Immortality. It was nothing and everything. Infinity. And thus he breathed It out. Path, Weight, Ranks. His decision final. The world snapped into place. Time resumed. A crack. The enemy leader felt it. A blow struck him, pushing him into the ground, smashing his soldiers to bloody pulps. But he held onto it for he was Lord Gregory. His decision was final. As such he took it all. The marching enemy soldiers stopped. They couldn''t move their feet one inch anymore. The armor weighted heavy. Confusion spread. The enemy leader struck another blow at him. Blood seeped out of his mouth. One of his eyes popped. Yet he withstood it all. For he was Lord Gregory. Since eons, his house stood tall. Extended, accumulated and evolved. His teeth bit into his lips, drawing blood. Blow by blow, he received all. His knees shattered. Crippled as he was, he continued to draw on it. It settled. The enemy army sought to steal what was his by birth, so he decided to steal from them. The discipline vanished. The morale went down. Faced with uncertainty, the enemy army was on the brink of a rout. And thus he commanded, "Charge!" His army, seeing the enemy scared, bloodlust filled them. With abandon, they threw themselves into the enemy disarrayed formation. The enemy leader saw the tide slowly but surely turning against him, thus he ate. His soldiers wailed as their once muscular body shriveled. He ignored their cries. After gathering enough, he spat at Lord Gregory. It settled down. Lord Gregory saw it, felt it even, yet he couldn''t do anything. His hands bound. His decisions chained. His fate final. He stared at one of his men deep into his very being, his soul. His final last word was, "Retreat," Before his mouth broke under the consecutive blows. The enemy leader grunted. A force struck his body. He easily withstood it. That was Lord Gregory''s last act of defiance before he was swarmed by enemy soldiers on all sides who stabbed repeatedly into him. Their swords blooded by his soldiers'' life, gave off heavy pressure. His Ranks destroyed. His Weight evaporated. His Path lost. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.At last the enemy leader stood in front of him, tall and proud. His decimated body on the ground. The enemy looked down on him, smirking. Yet Lord Gregory took ahold of his inner world. Cannibalizing his broken Ranks, he formed an unsteady foundation. Cannibalizing his remaining Weight, he transformed into a bomb. Cannibalizing his false Path, he triggered it. The enemy leader could only widen his eyes before the massive explosion swept him aside. The forest lightened up. Pressure waves caught all. In the end, the forest burned. Come morning, everything was charred. Be it human or not. Dark ominous smoke clouds drifted in the sky. The wind blew the ashes far and wide. A lone rider arrived in front of a castle. His body weak, just barely hanging on the horse. The guard over him called out, "Halt! Who goes there?" He fought through the pain, took the standard, tried to hold it high once more and shouted with great effort, "L-last S-surviv-vor of L-lord Gr-regor-ry''s a-ar -" Overwhelmed by the pain he blanked out. He felt something quite wet on his face, his eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the brightness. He instead took his time to feel out his surroundings. It seemed he slept on a big noble bed. "Take it easy. You are safe," A soft giggle, belonging to a female, echoed through the chamber. Her face occupied his sight. The hell brown eyes stared back at him, caught him and devoured his every thought. The big double door creaked open, guards in strange clothing stormed into the room, taking every corner. Lastly, a giant plump man walks in. His careful maintained spiky hairstyle denoted him as a noble. "I am Joerg of House Maldrik. I hope you are ready to report, soldier," He introduced himself as he walked with an elegant poise, filling the room with his presence. His shadow split into four, spread out to him. His frozen expression spoke volumes as the Lord''s shadows went near him. "M-milord! O-our army was ambus-shed by-y t-the e-e-enemy. W-we were s-surrounded by mist. L-lord G-gregory fought the enemy leader a-a-a-and l-lost." The words were difficult to utter, his trembling hands balled into fists and he just stared into nothing. The surroundings vanished. The battlefield appeared once more. Corpses littering the forest. Swords cut limbs. Blood spurted. Screams and cries begging for mercy were heard. "Cara," The noble lord ordered. Cara, the female besides his bed, touched him lightly on his shoulder, snapping him out of his nightmares. "The battle took a toll on you. Such battle was never meant to be fought, it is against the accords," The noble paced back and forth around the bed and continued with a sullen look, " The situation is more severe than I previously thought. If they wantonly use their might, our kingdom could face extinction." "Why did Lord Gregory ignore the accords?" His pacing speed up, moving nimbly his fat round body. The room fell into silence. His shadows moving around him. "There''s something missing," The lord finally concluded, turning to him again, he spoke, "You survived the might of two giants with your life intact which is unheard of. It seems you are fortunate enough. Such Fate," Here the lord paused for a moment and just stared at him, then continued, "Your Weight anchored into this world. This event you survived made yourself eligible for Cultivation. Congratulation you are worthy, George." "W-w-what? C-cult-tivation? H-how d-do -" The lord lifted his hand, silencing him and clarified, "Cultivation. Path. Weight. Ranks. You choose your Path. You gain Weight. You ascend the Ranks. All to escape the mortal coils." "A Cultivor can read mortals like an open book. I am a Cultivator." "Weight is gained through the simple act of eating. However be careful of what you eat. After all, you will be what you eat. To ascend the Ranks, you need to solidify your Weight in the world. A chosen Path may lead you to True Immortality or if you lose sight of it, False Immortality. Once lost, hope that someone kills you quickly. The longer the time in False Immortality, the greater the negative Karma will be. The world will reject your very being," He paused, a sad look appeared on his round face. After the moment passed, he explained, "My Great-Grandfather tried to live his life in False Immortality. Unfortunately, because the world rejected him, everything was set against him. Enemies swarmed him from all sides like a massive horde of ants. He fought until his last breath." "Remember to never lose your Path," The noble lord gestured to one of his servants for something. The servants went out of the room and came back with the standard, a red fat dragon. The noble lord took it and stroked softly the flag. "Every death of our own will impact the world. The Weight they anchored, it will leave an empty space." He stopped stroking it and handed it over to him. "Take it and make the House Gregory stand tall once more," He ordered with a sharp edge in his voice. Chapter III - Breakthrough The castle gates closed. Ready for a long siege, they stocked up food and water. Enemies besieged the castle. The banners were held high and mighty. The giant fat yellow dog stood tall. Lord Malik stilled, looked over the battlefield from his high tower, his men defending against the onslaught. He saw one of his levy trying to hoist up his banner, a giant blue bear, be skewered by a spear. Another punctured by arrows, his screams intertwined with the sound of death everywhere. Enemies rushed the ladder up. His men greeted them with death. A giant stone smashed into the castle wall, breaking some and cracking the foundation. Another rock flew over the wall smashing into his soldiers, transforming them into bloody decorations. Blood misted the sight of his courtyard, a metallic smell spread. Behind him neared a chubby person dressed in white pants and a blue shirt, denoting his vassal status. A fat red dragon was drawn on the shirt, showing his lordy title. "Why didn''t you change your hair, George?" Lord Maldrik asked him without turning around. Instead, he surveyed the battlefield. "My liege -" Before he could utter his answer, Lord Maldrik interrupted him, "Call me Joerg, you are after all a noble now." "Yes, Mi- Joerg. What is your order?" "Simple, nothing. We wait. The enemy is foolish enough to assault my castle. It is warded by the spirits of my ancestors. It is suicide," Joerg told him while smirking lightly. He looked around and saw how some soldier continued to fight even as their limbs were cut off. He noticed something. A levy fought several enemy soldiers, yet, in his injured state, he could hold them at bay. The eyes of the levy glowed blueish, unnaturally. "Focus on your breathing," Lord Maldrik coldly lectured him, his smirk gone, now solemn. George took the teaching to heart, ignored his surroundings, felt his breath traveling through his lungs. The world dimmed till only vague outlines could be seen. A bluish glow embraced some vague outlines. "Hold your breath." He held, pressure built up. It pushed. His body felt heavy. His thoughts cleared. "Now. Place your Weight. You will instinctively know it." He couldn''t understand, but he tried. Time passed. He didn''t know for how long. He heard his heart thumping. Louder. Louder. Louder. Till something exploded. He saw it. It was beautiful. Something far greater. He wanted to- "Do not push it!" His inner world collapsed. His thoughts were in disarray. The pain hit him. "Fool. Never push your Weight. Once pushed, the consequences are far too great. Even then the accords forbid it," He saw the mouth of Lord Maldrik not moving. Unbelievable! "You are a Cultivator. Nothing is impossible. Now, control your breathing and concentrate on the bluish aura." After his pain diminished, he eased his breathing to a manageable rhythm. He could see it. Strange blue intangible figures, their armor dusty and rusty. Embracing the levies. Controlling them. Like Puppets. So many... "Now you see what I mean, George." He shivered, he didn''t know if it was the cold or Lord Maldrik''s cold tone. "You have a daughter?" Maldrik''s question took him by surprise. So much that he forgot breath out. After he stabilized his breathing, he answered a little bit sad, "Yes, Joerg, she was twelve the harvest before," He looked into the distance, far away and continued, "I hope she''s alright. She is a little clumsy." Lord Maldrik smiled at that, remembering something, too, and promised him, "Don''t worry. The battle won''t be much longer. You need to assume your noble responsibilities, your village must be in the vicinity of Lord Gregory''s seat if he levied your personally," Lord Maldrik continued in a somber tone, "He liked his responsibilities, never shirking away. He was too hard on himself. A good man. A dear friend of mine. May he live his next life fully." Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. A horn signaled the retreat of the enemy. Silence hushed over the battlefield. Weary and exhausted, the cheers of his liege''s soldiers disturbed it. On the ground, some soldiers screamed incoherently, fatal wounded, in front of death''s gate. He grimaced, his stomach uneasy. His liege clasped his hands and prayed, "May the spirits of my ancestors guide them." A troop of light cavalry hunted a wounded fat rider, his horse straining at his reigns. It slowed, exhausted and tired. The fat rider, coughed blood as his injuries acted up. They caught up with him. No choice but to fight, he thought. His grimace said it all. His horse slammed to the ground, an arrow sticking out of it. His horse useless, he got up. His wobbly knees were weak and heavy. He breathed deeply in. Oxygen flowed through. His muscles rejuvenated. Fear vanished. He stamped on the ground, heavy. It cracked, dirt was blown away. The enemy horses fell all to the ground, their legs were broken. Their riders furious at him got up and rushed him. Warcries and unspoken promises of vengeance. The first enemy tried to skewer him, but he bashed the spear to the side and punched his face, popping his head. Blood splashed everywhere, his enemies were colored red. They hesitated, but he didn''t. A light slap broke the enemy''s arm. A kick slammed his body to a tree, breaking every bone he had. Another enemy was directly killed by smashing his own head against his. The last remaining enemy escaped. He breathed out and coughed. He fell to his knees. His breathing abnormal. Blood seeped out of his mouth. Unfortunately, before he could recover, he felt a hostile presence behind him. He used his last strength to push himself to the side. The ground he was before, got a deep crater. He cursed. A Cultivator! His view traveled to a female, slightly attractive even with her heavy sides. Before he could stare longer, he dodged out of a punch, but a followup kick hit him, throwing him to the tree, smashing his insides. He coughed blood. His fatal injuries impossible to heal without a miracle. The female glancing down on him, a sneer surfaced on her pretty face, distorting it ugly. He didn''t want to die without seeing his wife and daughter again. No, he couldn''t. He won''t! His heart, the seat of his Path, he remembered his liege saying, was throbbing with unimaginable power. Lord Maldrik warned him not to let it out. But he ignored it. It burst out. A wave of pure power swept through everything. The enemy unprepared, her eyes full of shock, popped. Trees colored red. The metallic smell was unbearable. His body, skinny once again. It seemed he lost his Weight. His Path, confusing to follow. Pain assaulted his every fiber. Before he blacked out, he saw deep smoke clouds surrounding his liege''s castle. Finally, he reached his village. On his way, he watched some villages and noticed in distance the enemy banner. He hoped he wasn''t too late. Fortunately, the enemy troops didn''t pass his village, yet. Without much time, he moved through his pain to home. He saw his wife and daugther working on the farm. "Mary! Alex!" He shouted, getting their attention. An excited look appeared on his little daugther''s face. His wife, however, noticed it, her face fell, yet she tried to hold back her tears. "Father! Where''s Hendrik? And Jeremy?" Alex shot her questions without pausing, a big smile on her face, hugging him to death. He was happy to see them again, but grief overwhelmed him instantly as he couldn''t tell her the truth, so instead, he lied, "Jeremy and Hendrik, they will meet up later with us" "Mary, we must flee. It''s not safe. The enemy is on the way," He whispered to his wife after he got away from his little daugther. Her look said it all, but a determined expression appeared. She nodded at him sharply and went back to the shack. Chapter IV - A Serial Killer Deep into the woods, a man with a torch stalked his prey, bow ready, an arrow out of his quiver. He touched a twisted branch of a tree, felt it between his fingers, threw it aside as he changed the direction. His silent footstep roused some small animals nearby, their sleep disturbed, he ignored them as he followed his trail. He almost continued, before he noticed something. He took a knee, patted the earth, felt something wet. He took a sample between his fingers and smelt it, the fresh coppery scent. More blood was on the ground, on a tree a bloody handprint. He followed the new trail. Not long after he found his prey stumbling on uneven grounds, trying to escape. He scoffed audibly at the pathetic sight, startling his prey. It looked behind and saw him, frightened it tried to run but tripped over a branch. Before it could get up, he nocked an arrow, drew the bowstring, aimed at the center and released. A dull sound was heard, his prey hitting the ground hard. The hunter took out a dagger, polished metal reflecting the moonlight as he stepped carefully to his prey. Arrived in front of a young female body, slowly bleeding through the wounds, she tried to crawl away, but to no avail, as he just grabbed the hair, dragging her face to his dagger. She whimpered, struggling against his hold. Her eyes widened, her fearful face reflected on the blade, but before she could beg, he plunged the dagger into her neck. Blood spurted out, painting his face red. He let the body hit the ground, took out a fresh sewed rag, hesitating a little as the rag was made by his daughter before he wiped his face clean with it. Next morning, villagers were seen meeting in the center. The village chief, an old man, walking with a crutch to the crowd and announced, "Yesterday, someone went missing, again!" Some villagers hushed, whispering to their friends, scared and suspicious one of them spoke out, "It wasn''t an animal! I found b-body parts in the forests, the cuts were too clean! It couldn''t be an animal! W-we h-h-have -" "Heavens! A murder!" A woman in bad sewed clothing screamed out, glancing every so often to others, her paranoia palpable. Her steps went backward. Others were doing the same. "You are the murderer! I didn''t see you yesterday at all!" Another accused a young girl in her teens, her blue eyes widen in shock, head shaking furious at the accusation. "Oh, gods! Did someone see her yesterday at all?" A man in his mid ages asked the crowd while he glared at the girl darkly, his suspicion obvious. Some even pointed their finger at her. The accused girl froze, her heart in her throat. The words she wanted to speak won''t come out as much as she tried. Her silence didn''t help her at all. Instead, it agitated the scared, but angry crowd. Because she was suspicious, her friends distanced themselves from her, however, one of them held her down to the ground, her head hitting the ground so hard that she was knocked out. At night, a young girl was bound on a wooden post by two strong male villagers, their hands cupped a feel at her body while they secured the bindings. "Could you believe such a pretty girl being a murderer?" One of them whispered to other as they both took a break and waited for the chief. "Ye -" He was interrupted by the chief, his crutch pounding the ground, catching the attention of all. "We are all gathered here to rid ourselves from this murderer!" Here he took a short pause and pointed at the bound girl who slowly woke up, "She killed many from us! Man, woman and even children! A monster! Let the gods judge her!" At the signal, a villager threw the torch at the stake. Bright flames engulfed the wooden post. The heat awoke the young girl from her stupor. She tried to plead, but her mouth was gagged. Her sobbing begun. Pain flowed through her as the fire caught a hold of her skinny body. Struggling against the bounds was useless, she soon realized. The night was illuminated by the roaring flames, completely eating the person in it. The wailing was unbearable for some villagers, others cursed at her, hateful looks were her last sight. A family fled the village. The wife weak and hungry was the first to fell. Her body couldn''t possibly keep up anymore. Her daughter was carried by her husband, his starved body on the brink of unconsciousness. His tired footsteps echoed through the forest, startling nearby animals. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.However, in the end, he soon did take a break, placing his sleeping daughter down. His sight wandered to his wife, conflicting thoughts emerged from his deep mind. He knew time was short, either they will find something to eat or they will starve. Fortunately, he brought his bow and some arrows with him. He didn''t want to leave them here, but considering that time wasn''t on his side and death very likely if he didn''t hunt soon, he searched for animals. It seemed the animals fled his sight, even if he tried to minimize his presence without much success. Not discouraged, he looked after fruits or something edible in the forest. Unfortunately, he didn''t once found something to eat, everything was completely set against him. As if the world wanted him dead. At last, he tracked back the way he left his family. As he neared the presumed place, he heard unfamiliar voices. Unmistakenly, males. He hurried without paying attention at his loud footsteps at all. His heart pounded in his chest, trying to burst out. Even in his weakened state, he did have the necessary energy to power through. Once he got to the clearing, he saw them. Three males in rusty mismatched armor. One of them held his wife down, the other trusted into her, grunting all the while. His wife sobbing, struggling at the hands of these men. The last one just held his daughter down letting her see the deed. His rage gave him a boost. With a scream, he threw himself at the one who held his daughter, kicking the head, breaking the skull. Brain matter splashed everywhere, stopping the other two men. "George!" His wife screamed in relief, but her eyes conveyed her shame. They took out their weapon with practiced ease. Carefully they stepped to him. First, they circled each other, gauging the opponent. He didn''t let them. He dashed. His opponent wasn''t prepared, he tried to block the hit with his shield, but instead, it broke under one blow, breaking his arm. A delicious scream elicited out of him. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the other trying to sneakily skewer him with his spear. Instead of turning to him, he just took a step backward, dodging the spear aimed at him completely. The spear found itself in the guts of the other guy. His broken arm no longer a concern as he gasped, hitting the ground with a clang. Before his last opponent could recover, he quickly took the sword from the corpse and threw it at him. Distraction served as the opponent failed to pull out his sword, he dashed in a blink of an eye to him, taking hold of his neck, pressing with all his might, crushing it. His last opponent died without even a whimper. He hurried to his wife, seeing her in this state, enraged him more than ever. He lamented that the bandits died too soon. "M-mary, I-I''m s-so sorry!" He embraced her while muttering over and over again, until something touched him, snapping him out of it. Her face pale and her eyes distant, she spoke her last words, "I-I f-forgive y-you. P-please...our daughter-" Her eyes glazed over. His mind numb. Impossible. While his daughter shook her many times, her sobbing face betrayed anxiousness. He couldn''t hear anything. His thoughts were on her. She wasn''t dead, he tried to convince himself, however futile as the corpse cooled. He felt himself becoming numb. He didn''t how long he held her. His body moved. He pulled the sword out from the scabbard of the corpse. He stabbed the corpse. Once. Twice. And more. Many times. Time flew as the sun went down. Meanwhile, his daughter tried to snap him out of it, hugging him, trying to drag him away from the corpses. But in the end, she gave up, her body weak with exhaustion. After a period of time, he snapped himself out of it as he remembered what his wife told him in her last moment. His daughter. He looked and saw her sleeping while grabbing his knees. It pained his heart seeing her so weak. They didn''t have any food. Hunting is impossible. His strength isn''t up for it. What should they do? The only solution would be cannibalizing the corpses. They should be fresh enough. But first, he will bury her. Interlude I - The Drought A group of soldiers was riding to a village, a banner held high by the leading soldier, showing a giant fat yellow dog. The villagers saw them galloping in the distance, their horses pounding like drums into the ground. Hopelessness filled their countenance. Some even cried, others were trying to comfort themselves. Some villagers gathered together, angry and desperate, they have nothing to fear, armed with nothing but scythes and pitchforks, only one had a sword, inherited. He led them, his call of arms, seeing that some answered. "These yellow dogs are here to steal our hard gotten harvest!" He spoke, sword raised high and continued, "We don''t have enough to feed ourselves! They want us to starve to death! I say, Nay!" His followers cheered, all raising their makeshift weapons to the sky, the morale high and hopeful, some shouted, "Nay! Nay! Nay!" As the riders were to arrive in a matter of time, the villagers didn''t have much time to prepare. Nervousity radiated from them, some tried to be brave, but failed, gripping the weapon''s handle so hard that the knuckles went white. The pressure was unbearable. Eyes glancing back and forth to others, trying to get reassurance. The advancing horses stomped the ground, like a drum that was counting the time before death. The arrival was swift, the soldiers halted, their horses reined in, seeing the armed villagers, the leader just said, "Fight us, then death only awaits you and the village will be razed to the ground." Hearing that many villagers paled and hesitated, while some dropped their weapons, frightened already. The villager, armed with the sword, saw them hesitating and giving up, however, he couldn''t allow them at all. If they were to give them the harvest, they will starve out. The village will be gone. So he made the call, charging headlong at the leader, mounted on the horse, struck at him, hoping the surprise was enough. But it didn''t seem to be the case as the mounted leader just pulled on the reins to the side, his horse obeying, just barely dodging out of the slash. The villager''s heart sped up, his surprise betrayed his expression as a quick downward thrust from the rider''s sword penetrated his fragile neck. Blood gushed out of the wound, his body hitting the ground, painting the dirt red. The mounted soldiers'' faces were set to stone masks, some hide it better, others not so. He called out, "You are not the first to rebel, but I hope you will be the last," His eyes haunted, he slumped, betraying his tiredness. He didn''t want to order it, but he hoped it would be the last village at least. On his face appeared a determined look, he turned to his soldiers, addressing them, he ordered, "Slaughter all. Be it man, woman or child. Then burn the village. Nothing but ashes will be here. Let the Heavens grant them mercy for I will not. Do your duty!" Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. His soldiers swarmed the village, killing villagers left and right, some tried to escape but to no avail, as horses ran them down. Not long corpses littered the ground, the smell of death strong in the air. At the end of the day, the mass grave burned. The flames roared as they engulfed the village. On the horizon, more bright lights were seen far away, illuminating the dark, helping some peasants traversing the forest. In the forest, a corpse laid on the ground, it''s limbs gone, the head cleanly severed. There were three women eating their fill in front of a campfire. The shadows moved, morphed into ugly big figures. One of them ate a cooked limb, her skinny body shivering at the cold, all the while scrambling near the fire. Others were doing the same as the cold air seeped into them. As they savored the meat, almost feeling at peace, a scream interrupted them, dragging them out of the illusion. Tensing at the possible danger. Catching each others'' eyes, they confirmed their next actions. One of them equipped her bow and took some arrows, she stalked to the place the scream came from. Her two companions were also doing the same, sword at the ready, spear hoisted, they both followed her lead. Advancing in silence, they neared the place, a clearing showing deserters around a campfire laughing all the while torturing a woman to death. The three woman''s expressions were grim, their darkened faces said it all. The one with the bow indicated to the other two. Both of them nodded, moved into place. Even as the corpse was cooling down, one deserter was relieving himself in her, not noticing the nearing danger. An arrow nocked, the bow readied and aimed, released. It flew into the laughing man at the campfire, hitting him at the eye. His screams alerted the man who thrust into the corpse, however before he could pull his sword out of its scabbard, the other woman made itself known, slitting his throat, quick. What came next was an orgy of blood as the three moved with practiced ease, killing the deserters, savoring their delicious screams as they bloodied the ground. A small grave was erected with stones as a marker. The three women prayed, kneeling on the ground with clasped hands, "May the spirits guide you to the afterlife." After the short ceremony, they gathered the corpse of the deserters, cut them into small pieces. The hunger resurfaced.