《Clash of Cards》


 Prologue: Blood spilling out on hollow frost

    Lumps of black blood were coughed up by an old man who lay resting in his bed, taking his final breaths inside his thatched hut. His grey beard was pricked with white and stained with blood stains. He was beyond saving now, that he knew. The dark blotches on his skin was a sure sign of death, terrible messengers of the black plague. The old man had seen the symptoms so many times before. More than he could count, and knew how impossible it was to get rid of them.


    Was this perhaps a judgement for what he had done?


    The bed under him was simple. A dozen sturdy wooden planks covered with straw and supported by two large logs. Ever since the day he lost the war, he had been living here all by himself. There was no one to help him build a bed. Nor to get food. Nor to build a house. He had done everything. Although the bed was hard and not very pleasant to lie on top, he had gotten used to the feeling. Like those Japanese folks who slept on futons.


    The old man sighed. Regret was something he often felt, especially now when he stood at death''s door. Would it be different if he had stopped pursue his dreams and instead married the girl he liked? Would he perhaps be living with a family, ploughing the field every day, playing with his grandchildren in the afternoons? What if he had all together skipped joining the army?What if he had been content with a normal life? Would he really lie here, infected with doom itself?The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "Well, there''s no use in trying to change the past. I did what I did, and I fought for my country!" the old man threw away the blanket that covered his body. If he were to die, he would not do so in the bed by some trifling sickness. He, the great commander, Napoleon Bonaparte, would die outside, by the sword! He walked out unsteadily, coughing up black blood as he did.


    A trail of black started from the thatched hut. Following it, one would come to a whistling plain of tundra. A corpse lay amidst the snow and dirt, a sword stuck inside his stomach, blood pouring out on the frosty crust.Wolves soon came and began their feast, tearing his flesh and drinking his blood as they filled their stomach.


    However, for Napoleon, this life was merely the beginning. He just didn''t know it yet!

 1. ~ youth

    Napoleon thrust his eyes open. "This.."


    The scenery unfurled before him like a canvas painting; a vast plain of lush, green grass, stretching over many miles, and a gigantic mountain range with snow-tipped mountains. This wasn''t on the island. Was this heaven? He looked down at his chest and touched all over. There was no sign of the sword injury or of blood. Only a black clothing covered his torso, a clothing he didn''t remember ever having. It seems he really was in heaven. If he had left Earth, that was only with his soul. His body would stay, be buried; or in his case, eaten by wolves.


    His hand wasn''t wrinkled. He turned his hand back and forth, clenched and opened. "How incredible!"


    This hand was easy to move. No aching or pain.


    Looking around, the old man found a lake a couple of hundred meters away. The lake was connected to the mountain range and the endless rivers flourishing through, weaving together in a beautiful system of sprinkling blue. Red salmons jumped above the surface of the water and danced together, playfully mating in the lake.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    He began to run and his feet were beyond fast. They were incredible. This was even better than when he was young.


    Was this really what heaven was? A beautiful place where you could live out your dreams in peace and tranquillity?


    As he came over to the lake, he walked to the water and looked down, wanting to see his reflection.


    "This face... this isn''t me!" the now young man screamed and fell back, landing on his behind. The image reflected from the water, staring back at him, had not been the face Napoleon was used to. It was not the wizened face he wore when he died, chiselledat by the ebb and flow of time, and nor was it the young, stoic face he wore as the emperor of France. It was a delicate of a young man in his teens, completely different from how Napoleon had ever looked like!

 2. ~ Swordfish

    "Should heaven really be like this?!" Napoleon asked himself in shock.


    He, during his reign in France, had used religion as means to control the country and its people. And it was, at that time, not a question whether or not heaven and god existed. The importance lay in what benefits Christianity could bring him, and not if it was true or not. Although the man was baptised in the cathedral ofAjaccio, it had been more for the sake of appearance than firm belief. He hadn''t even read the bible, so how was he supposed to know how heaven was like?


    Sure, the bishops and priests told him a lot, but he never listened! As for how he mused about it on Saint Helena Island before everyone left, thinking he was dead ¨C that was all complete bullshit! He had been walking around, scorned by everyone because of his ambitions. So, he devised a perfect plan. He began to pay every day in the town centre, spending hours from dawn to late night, speaking about the magnanimous love of god!


    And they had believed in his change of nature and in the forgiveness of god.


    Like one of them, he was allowed to live a pleasant life until he was fifty. But then he came up with another plan. To return to France, and to take back the throne which was rightfully his, the now middle-aged man staged his own death. He gave a man everything he had so that the man would vouch for him falling out from a cliff, carried out to his death by the waves. It worked, and the people believed him yet again. But when he was going to leave, he found out that his death had caused the English soldiers to celebrate with joy.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    They no longer had to stay on the island since he was dead!


    And before leaving, they burned their houses and settlements to the ground, taking everything of value when they sailed away. Napoleon was, therefore, stuck on the island by himself. It was even worse than before! So yes, in the end, the famous general had fooled himself with his incredible mind. Quite ironic, isn''t it?


    As the man was in thinking back in the past, the lake in front of him splashed, and a two meter long fish with a sharp horn shot out like a cannonball.


    The fish, under Napoleon''s terrified gaze, landed in the grass field several meters away from him. It had two legs and two arms, and its blue eyes were intelligent. Sounding out with strange whimpers, the walking fish stuck its chest out and stomped the ground.


    Then Napoleon froze. A chill was sent through his spine, causing him to stop in place. In front of him, a small blue screen appeared.


    ¡¸A level 3 walking swordfish has challenged you to a fight. Please pick one of the following. Fight or flee!¡¹