The browned, flattened grass of the long plain seemed to give off a sense of despair and hopelessness. Eerie shadows danced among the tiny rocks surrounding the field, sometimes forming humanoid shapes. Even the very sun didn’t shine as bright here, and it felt as if you were instantly transported into another place, a place you would never want to go. This was place where the lines between the living and the dead blurred, and that is exactly why I was here.
My spirit drifted across the plain, heading straight towards the perfect circle of rocks. Any other spirit who crossed my path hissed and bared their teeth, moving out of the way as they, sensed my power. This was exactly the reaction I expected, since they knew that I was, or at least used to be, a crown prince whose riches and power were reported to be almost as large as my ego. That was a long time ago, one before I meant my untimely demise. I assassin of all things, just one meagre assassin was able to take down my entire empire that I had built on my (servants) blood, sweat, and tears. And to think that he had been a necromancer, of all things, one who was able banish my apparently ‘wretched’, ‘short-tempered’, and ‘stuck-up’ spirit to forever walk the land I once ruled.
Now, all I had was my spirit, and my sword, (you don’t want to know where I got it from) the aptly named Cleaver of Souls. It was made of a expertly forged black alloy, with magical runes for power and revenge etched along the broadside of the razor-sharp blade. The sword itself gave off an aura of dark and unholy power, which only grew ever powerful every time someone wished for vengeance against someone who had wronged them. I guess that was my job now, an eighteen-year-old Reaper, or someone who transferred their spirit between the realm of the living and the dead in order to grant the wishes of the vengeful living (or in some cases the dead).
Continuing towards the middle of the field, just the person I was looking for entered the field from whatever infernal dimension he was hiding in before. (Insert Unpronounceable Demonic-Language Name Here), or The Merchant Of Darkness, was standing directly in the middle of the circle, his gray, soulless eyes staring directly at me like he was peering into my very soul. They were the exact same eyes as mine, or any other who had been touched by Death himself. It was generally an experience we kept to ourselves, since it always left a mental scar on us, and it always changed you forever. He wore his plain purple cloak over the fine linen that gave away who he was instantly. Nobody but the one who dealt in matters of the shadow could possibly afford the luxurious, otherworldly cloth.
My gaze directly matched his, showing him that I wasn’t frightened by his power. There was no way in Hell he would take advantage of me, even if he was one of the most persuasive and influential creatures of this dimension. I spoke, my voice clear and true,
“You know what I want. Now give it to me.”
He smiled then, smiled as a shark would smile right before it devourers its prey.
“Of course. But, you must know that I do not deal for nothing. Don’t let your ego get in the way, Reaper, I know what you are, and I do not think for a second that you could take what you want from me.” He stated firmly, the extreme smugness of his voice annoying me to the point where I wanted to cleave his superior smile right off his face.
I snarled at him, placing a gray hand into my pack and pulling out a bag of acerbus, the currency of the underworld. Throwing it at him, he caught it in a clawed hand and laughed as he spoke, “Excellent, excellent, except you should know that I haven’t dealt in something as common as this in millennia.”
That was it.
I unsheathed my sword, my anger causing it to burst into dark, black flames. In one fluid motion, I swung the blade horizontally right towards the merchant’s neck. In a flash of dark light, he vanished and the arc of my sword drove straight through where the Merchant’s neck would have been mere moments ago.
“Stupid, Stupid!” I yelled at myself, angry on how he had coerced me into attacking, “This is exactly what he wants!”
“You’re right. That was what I wanted.”
I tensed up, suddenly feeling the sickening feeling of his breath against my pale neck. All of a sudden, a strange pain shot through me, causing me to double over as a searing sensation took over my body
“Poison,” I spat, immediately noticing the lavish dagger stuck in my abdomen. “You poisoned me.”
“You know, I have heard that Reaper souls are particularly delicious. I’ve always wanted a chance to try.”
A million sarcastic remarks ran through my head like a tidal wave. After all, I was nothing if not a witty and moody teen; but this time, I let my blade, which was still clutched in my muscular hand, do the talking. Yanking the dagger out of my thigh and twirling around took almost all of my waning energy supply, but I knew that this would be the (second) death of me if I didn’t kill the Merchant here.
“Take your knife back!” I shouted, not caring how cliché I sounded as I plunged his dagger back into his neck. I felt hot, black blood run onto my hand, oozing from the jagged wound in The Merchant’s neck. With the speed no human could ever manage to achieve, his four decrypted arms flew out from the confines of his cloak, each with a wickedly sharp katana in hand.
Agilely, I flipped back, giving me some space from those swords, which looked like they could cleave my head straight from my shoulders. We had some space between us now, and as a bone-shivering gale howled throughout the plain, I couldn’t help but think how much this was like one of those duels in the western movies.
“A duel at high night. Sounds like fun.” I stated slyly, mere seconds before we clashed.
Our weapons were a blur, as expected from two (especially me) exceptionally powerful beings such as us. I had to admit, this guy was good. I had never seen such quick parries and ripostes from any spirit I had hunted before.
“You are skilled, Reaper, I must say, too bad you will not live much longer.”
“Thanks for the compliment. You should know that I didn’t hear anything after ‘you are skilled’.” I retorted, eager to toy with my foe as we danced our deadly dance.
In a complex spinning maneuver, The Merchant dodged his way through my defenses and impaled my abdomen with one of his sword, leaving it stuck inside my body. I quickly felt my body weakening, and I fell on to my knees clutching my stomach as I growled with rage. Not willing to let me recover, he quickly stabbed the rest of his swords into me, leaving me a dark pincushion, a pincushion who was in absolute agony.
The Merchant stood nearby, two of his arms returning to the folds of his cloak as he smirked and proudly observed his dark work. I, on the other hand grimly realized that I had no help coming. Reapers have no allies, and the spirits on the plain fled as soon as our deadly bout began, if they would even be willing to help me at all.
“Goodbye, Reaper, it was nice meeting you, although it was a shame that you never got what you wanted after all.” He said, taking out a small letter from the folds of his cloak.
He was right, as much as it hurt to say, I did need that letter for one of my clients, and I had failed. Not wanting to be outdone I quickly spoke, hacking out blood as I talked,
“Wow, how much stuff can you even fit in that thing?” I gestured towards his cloak, “Like really, do you have just dozens of pockets where you keep random paraphernalia?”
It was agony to even speak, but in situations like these, my wit was the only thing I had left. Thee Reaper began to walk towards me, slowly, to relish in his victory and increase my suffering. I knew what he wanted. My very soul. His threat earlier wasn’t an empty one; creatures like this were only so powerful due to the massive amount of souls they have consumed in their twisted lifetimes.
It’s hard to explain how soul-eating works, but let’s just say it’s something like you are getting dizzier and dizzier, until you are enveloped by a bright light, and no, not the good kind of bright light, the kind that meant you were about to cease to exist. This was what I felt happening to me, when something inside me warped and changed.
I didn’t know what, but it just felt black, like shadows. Just a color, that’s the only comparison that came to my mind at the time, but I know that suddenly a fierce energy rose up inside of me. Almost involuntarily, I stood up, the soul-eating process immediately stopping. What happened next shocked even me, something I thought was impossible.
I pulled two of The Merchant’s katanas from my body, instantly noticing the blood and organs still smeared on the blades. My blood and organs, I thought with a start. Then, I swung both of the blades at him, aiming for where a human’s heart would be, if monsters like him even had hearts. I don’t know what came over me, but I slashed like I was possessed, maybe I was indeed possessed, after all, stranger things had happened. Whatever the case, I simply didn’t care. Overcome by a sadistic urge, I was much faster than I thought even possible, too fast for even The Merchant.
Before I knew it, every one of his swords was worn down to the hilt, for in my rage I had completely shattered the metal blades into miniscule pieces. As for The Merchant, he was lying on his knees, a pool of blood darker than midnight forming under him. It was almost cruel to leave him like this, despite all of the maniacal things he had probably done. I hoisted up The Cleaver Of Souls; I felt it pulse at my touch, eager for new souls to be fed. In a way my sword was similar to a monster, due to its craving to feed, but my blade didn’t exactly eat the soul, it just absorbed it. This may not sound like much of a difference, but in Underworld terms, it is a massive one.
Stooping down to the look The Merchant directly in the eyes, I couldn’t help but notice what they were full of: fear, which was undoubtedly a new emotion for him. Reaching into the folds, I pulled out the letter he had taunted me with before. My client would be very impressed, and I would surely be paid a handsome sum for this, whatever it was. All I knew was that my client wanted it, and I never asked any other questions, it was simpler that way. I hoisted up my sword on my shoulder, preparing to swing and end this wretched soul. In a black flash, it was over and all that was left of the rich Merchant was his expensive purple cloth.
I couldn’t help but notice the massive number of tiny pockets on the inside as I walked off the gloomy plain.