Chaos Engine

Lihan Introduction

He was alone.

Again.

The desert sun was setting, leaving a bruised purple sky as the air slowly began to get colder, beating down on his white Thawb, the garb reflecting the sun's heat.

He didn't mind.

This was a normal part of his life for as long as he could remember.

Screams.

Fire.

A child looking on with teary eyes yet a blank face as a man put a curse upon the eyes of the child.

That was years ago, around ten at this point.

Lihan held the scabbard of the shamshir sword in his hand a bit tighter.

He saw the world differently from others. So differently it was something noticeable to people around him, if the lighting was right.

His green eyes and the pupils within were cracked.

It was Eldritch Sight.

He saw the world and people for what they truly were as a result.

A purple sky from a sunset? Merely a deity bleeding like always every night, and every morning.

The moon shining? Merely just a collection of eyes looking down upon the world.

Things like that.

As for people, he saw what they looked like, and things that would represent them.

For example, a person who always seemed confident was represented by a blazing fire. A person who was quiet yet still lethal, was represented by a shade covered in blood. A person who acted motherly was represented by a simple, warm fire in the cold.

It's been a while since he's seen somebody besides the Pharoah in Black.

That was the man who made his life like this.

But he pushed those thoughts aside, seeing a large city of sorts in the distance, spires of stone and gold reaching up into the sky until they pierced the clouds.

This was Miradyne, named after a Goddess of the Earth, and one of the most peaceful places in the world, despite the chaos going on around it.

He always thought of it as odd, this world.

Despite being a place he lived in his entire life, there was always something new or different. Elves, Dwarves, Demons, Magic, and so much more.

Like a mixture of swords and guns for example.

There were adventurers, of course. An entire network of guilds and different ranks.

But that's not what was weird.

What was weird to him was that this world, this world he grew up in, was so much of a mixture of fantasy and modernization.

It had things such as rilfes, shotguns that could turn into swords, handguns, and everything between, yet that was the most of it.

It was just weapons.

Swords, guns, magic.

That is what most people were concerned about anymore.

He wondered if he would ever find somebody that fought for a purpose, like protecting somebody or something for example.

Not just money.

He stepped through the gates, the guards not batting an eye.

He was, after all, fifteen.

What could a fifteen year old do to cause trouble in a city as large as this?

Not much.

The streets were somewhat crowded as he wandered.

Merchants were at their stands and shops, adventurers were walking to taverns and guilds, a few rogues were in the alleyway's, eyeing the pockets of passerbys.

He noticed somebody up ahead, however.

A group of people to be exact.

Normally Lihan would walk past and pay them no mind, but they seemed to be having an argument, that being a high elf who seemed to hold himself a degree higher than most, a dwarf with a shotgun and a smithing hammer at his belt, and finally, a human with a long red coat and a curved sword at his hip that Lihan recognized as a Killing Edge.

The mere prescence of such a weapon made Lihan feel a bit confused.

The Killing Edge was seen as a poor mans sword, often unwieldy and more like a gimmick that was more unreliable than it should have been.

It was given to gladiator slaves mainly, a twisted form of entertainment for the rich.

There was one gladiator slave who had always came out on top, and that was a man named Genos Espada, who had supposedly ran away, gaining his freedom that way.

But he was getting off track.

The Killing Edge was one of the few remaining weapons in production that had magic infused within it, having something that the public called Critical Hits.

It was a weird name.

And while it sounded nice, the problem was how inconsistent the Critical Hits were. Combine that with the weight mainly being in the middle of the sword instead of the hilt, it was simply too unwieldy to properly use unless you were a master swordsman.

"It was one time, you insufferable piece of dirt!" The high elf shouted at the dwarf, catching a crowd of onlookers, who were whispering to each other in confusion.

"Sounds like to me yer a bit insecure, elf." The dwarf responded, taking a long swig of alcohol from a metal flask adorned with intricate engravings.

The human merely sighed with a groan, rubbing his temples as the elf continued to shout and complain at both him and the dwarf incredulously.

"Can you guys shut up!?" He asked, his patience waning. "God, you both suck! One in a more literal sense, but sweet merciful Mira, we're attracting a crowd! I'm not gonna appeal to your fragile, petty ego! It was just a joke about you giving somebody a bl-"

Lihan decided to keep walking.