The Forbidden

Chapter Two

In the beginning, there was war.

Created fully formed and battle ready, he blinked once to sharpen his gaze and was immediately gifted with everything he required to fulfill his purpose. 

Identification: Semyaza. Rank: Commander. Armor, a sword, a Legion of five thousand warriors to fight by his side and a link to the collective in his mind.

The latter flooded his head with information, the overload almost dropping him to his knees. While he took his first labored steps, every thought, every emotion, every experience, all that happened in the past and was happening now, overwhelmed him. He stilled for a few seconds to absorb it, closed his eyes, and filtered through the layers of pain, anguish, loss, and despair associated with warfare, so he could tether his consciousness to the most pertinent facts.

Envy. Dissent. Anger. Rebellion. 

The brightest and most loved of them all had split the Host into opposing factions, each side convinced the cause they fought for was just and that they would prevail.

There were early indications of what was to come which the Host had not recognized until it was too late. Individual voices disappeared from the Collective consciousness like stars winking out of existence in a night sky. The defection was slow at first, which made it difficult to discern. There was no pattern to it. No explanation for the loss when they noticed it. Then, without any further warning, great swathes of the sky went dark and the battle began.

In one moment, there was harmony.

In the next, carnage.

As thousands of warriors fell, thousands more were created to take their place. Yet there never seemed to be enough of them to stem the tide. Question why and their link to the collective was immediately severed as a preventative measure. But Semyaza was not one of the new creations put to the sword the second they stepped out of the line.

He did not question. He would not falter. His objective was clear.

Studying the sword in his hand, he familiarized himself with its weight with one deft flick of his wrist and, mere moments after he was created, led five thousand new recruits onto the battlefield.

Streams of blood soaked the ground beneath their feet, the sky colored numerous shades of orange and red, filled with black smoke from the fires burning everywhere. 

Focused on the targets and objectives which could lead to victory, Semyaza stepped into the fray and swung his arm from the shoulder. The razor-sharp blade of his sword sliced cleanly through skin, sinew, and muscle, sometimes bone, severing limbs and opening arteries in a back and forth motion which was both clinical and brutally effective. It garnered attention, drew more of the enemy into his line of sight, forcing him to duck, spin, twist, kick and punch, dropping body after body while his ears rang with the sounds of sword clashing against sword alongside screams of pain and roars of defiance.

In the midst of it all, when his Legion cleared a wide enough path for the next Legion to advance with less effort, he looked up and saw a lone warrior streak down from the sky, light glinting off its golden armor. It landed in a crouched position with enough force to flatten a circle of fighters ten enemies wide, giant wings snapping out from its spine to fill six feet of space on either side of its body. They carelessly flicked off any challengers who ran towards him while he pushed to his full height and ignited two flaming swords in his hands. 

The enemy reacted by rushing forward in droves from all sides, surrounding him until he disappeared beneath a mound of writhing bodies. As he fought them off, tossing one after another through the air and setting several of them alight, the collective supplied more information.