A flurry of thoughts flooded Edin's mind as he witnessed the beast racing towards Irien. He would stand no chance. The creature's claws would cut him up before the tip of his blade could reach its skin. Though he did not remember most of his life, he certainly did not want to lose it.
But more lives would be lost if he did not step in.
Edin outstretched his arm and summoned his sword. He sprang from behind the rock and sprinted. This was it. This was what Arden had been preparing him for. It was only a matter of time before he would fight his maiden fray.
Although, he wished it would have arrived later.
He narrowed his eyes as he ran. A cloud of dust formed as the beast galloped toward the town. Edin lifted his forearm; some dust was getting into his eyes. He panted as he chased it. It was pulling away from him. Half the townsfolk would be dead by the time he arrived.
He lifted his left arm, palm facing his back, and leaned forward. He thrust.
Fwoosh. Blue fire blazed from his palm and soles and propelled him across the soil. He peered at the town. The monster was dangerously near the settlement. If he could just be a little faster, he could stop it before it penetrated the outskirts. He strained his left arm as he propelled more fire. He was closing in. His heartbeat raced; in seconds, they would clash.
The beast was within striking distance. Edin fed lightning into his blade and thrust it.
Crack!
A patch of burnt soil marked the spot where his lightning bolt struck. Fear spiked in him—he missed!
He stared at the beast. The creature had halted and reared its head to the source of the sound. It snarled at him as it lengthened the claws of its forepaws.
Edin stopped in his tracks. Held his sword with both hands. Narrowed his eyes into slits. He was ready. Two years of rigorous training had groomed him for this.
The ground quaked as the monster bolted in his direction. A long and sharp tongue shot from its snout.
Edin sidestepped. Changed his grip. Sliced through the monster's tongue. Blood sprayed.
Upon the first drop of crimson, Edin saw nothing but red.
The beast reeled in its bleeding tongue just before he could cut through it.
Edin sprinted towards it. Lightning flowed into his blade. He thrust. Crack! The beast fell to the ground, wriggling from electric shock.
He gashed its abdomen. The creature flailed its legs as it tried to claw at him. He parried each limb. Severed its paws. Then its ankles. Then its knees.
It wailed in agony. He cut its cries with a slice of its throat.
Then he tortured it. Hacking. Slashing. Slicing. Stabbing. The beast's howls morphed into pleading whimpers as he butchered its every body part. Its cries sparked savagery in him instead of sympathy. Every gush of blood heightened his thirst. He lifted his sword up high, aimed at the heart, and brought it down.
A wet cracking sound could be heard as the blade pierced through its ribs and stabbed its heart. Its body became still at once.
Edin stared at the monster's carcass—or a sum of its parts, rather, for he had hashed it beyond recognition. A thick pool of blood surrounded the mass, leaking from the parts where he cleaved and lacerated it. He then gazed at his sword. The same crimson color coated his blade and dripped from its edge. He looked down at himself. He was covered in red stains from top to bottom. He stood still as he let the situation sink in.
He did it. He slew a beast.
Edin turned around to face his back. A pair of shadows had emerged from the outskirts of town. He tightened his grip. Upon closer inspection, he realized that the shadows belonged to humans. The radiance of their smiling eyes told him that they were not threats. He held his sword in front of him and let it fade into thin air.
The shadows soon morphed into two men. They appeared almost identical—both men were tall, of athletic build, and had dark hair and eyes that contrasted their bright auras. Though the beige of their clothes matched the drab outfits of the townsfolk of Irien, the clothes themselves were a far cry from them. Their shirts were cut in such a way that they were form-flattering, but not tight. Their trousers were thin, yet they appeared tearproof as well. One of them sported a stylish jacket while the other had his tied around the waist. Edin paid close attention to their black combat boots. A ribbon of gold skirted their soles, and a string of small inscriptions was inscribed on them.
Guardians. People with special abilities, like himself, who were paid to protect settlements from the monsters that prowled around the land. Arden was one of them—she was the strongest of them all, in fact. If Edin could prove himself, he would soon join their ranks.
The guardian on the left nudged the other one and chuckled. "Looks like someone already did the job for us."
"Funny how we've never seen him before. Must be a recruit," the other commented. They glanced at Edin. "Thanks for slaying it for us!"
"Uh, you're welcome."
"Give him the cash."
The second guardian reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. He flipped each note as he counted them. Once he was sure he had the right amount, he paced toward Edin, grabbed his hand, and placed the money in his palm. Edin gave a bewildered look.
"What's this for?"
"For killing that thing. All guardians get paid for every monster they kill."
"Oh, but I'm not a guardian yet. I'm still being trained."
"No wonder we haven't seen him," the other guardian said to his partner. He then faced Edin. "Just take it. It doesn't matter whether you're one of us or not. Whoever slays gets paid."
Edin nodded his head and pocketed his pay. "Thank you."
"No problem. Now get out of here; we'll clean up this mess."
So he left the two guardians and resumed his return to the castle. He relived the battle in his mind. He was a different man. Though he did feel fear when he first saw the beast, it all vanished after he cut its tongue. No, it was not bravery—actually, it was not merely bravery that consumed him at that moment. There was something else about him, something inside him, that he never knew he possessed until the battle ignited it. Was it... bloodlust? He shrugged it off. He was no savage. He was only violent out of necessity. Then again, perhaps he spent too much time butchering it. He could have gone straight for the heart instead of harassing it with endless stabbing and cleaving. He could not recall any feeling of disgust when blood stained his clothes, too. He shook his head. He was not a violent man. He was not a violent man. He was not a violent man—at least, that was what he claimed.
At last, he arrived at the castle. The gates opened as soon as he was near it. He trod uphill to the lobby, passed through a pair of ornate double doors, and entered. A long hallway lay before him.
His mind recalled the different routes to his bedroom and tried to map out the shortest one. He glanced downward at himself. Dark, purplish red had spattered his clothes from the forearms of his white sleeves to the ankles of his blue jeans. He could not let Arden see him like this. It took years before she trusted him to go out on his own. If she were to see him in such a state—oh, the shock! He had only been to town on his own once and came back bloodstained. She would lock him up in the castle every time she departed, which meant that he would spend six days of the week alone... no, he could not let that happen. He was a grown man of twenty-three. Even if he exuded the innocence of a child, he did not want to be treated like one for the rest of his life.
He glanced at a nearby grandfather clock. It was a few minutes past four o'clock in the afternoon. Arden could arrive at any moment. There was no method to accurately predict when she might arrive home—on some days she would arrive after sunset, and on other days she would be back after thirty minutes. He hoped that she would stay outside until he had laundered his clothes. If not, then at least until he had hidden them in the laundry basket. He focused on the path. The shortest path to his room was a straight walk followed by a few turns. Creak. The front doors had opened. He paced faster—
"Edin?"
He froze. Edin twirled in his spot to face his mentor. A loud gasp escaped her lips.
"Edin, what happened?"
"I can explain—"
"There's blood all over you!" She marched towards him, her mouth still wide open. "Are you alright?"
"I'm alright. I slew a beast."
"You did?"
"I-I was walking on the way home when I saw one heading to town, so I stopped it." He dove his hand into his pocket and showed her the cash. "Some guardians gave me this after I slew it."
A brief pause stilled their conversation as she breathed and sighed. "Well, I'm glad you're still alive. You can keep the cash; it's yours. Clean yourself up. We'll have dinner at six."
He merely nodded and reinserted the cash into his pocket, then turned around and strolled down the corridor.
At the end of the hallway were three paths: the one in the middle was marked by a set of glass double doors, while the ones on the sides led to more rooms. Edin turned right. The corridor was narrower but nonetheless spacious. He counted the doors on the left side. One. Two. Three. He turned left. Not far up ahead was a spiral stairwell. It led to the tower that was designated as his quarters. He turned right, took a step, and began climbing.
One might think that the stairwell of an old castle's tower would be rather intimidating—dim lighting, if there were any at all; the haunting echoes of one's footsteps, sometimes delayed enough to mimic the movement of a stalker; the unsettling sense that a figure was lurking near, hiding a few steps above or below. Luckily for Edin, that was not the case for Arden's castle. Light magic and bright lamps kept the stairwells well-lit, like every other part of her home. Though the footsteps were still sonorous, their echoes were soft and bright rather than sharp and ominous. There was no feeling of being followed either, for the stairwell was wide and open instead of closed and narrow.
The stairwell flattened as he arrived at the first floor of the tower. He opened the door on the right side. His bedroom. It was as luxurious as the rest of her home. Gold and brass accented each furnishing, either blending well with pastel shades or drawing a striking contrast to deep and dark blues. Comfortable rugs and carpets covered part of the floor, matching the comforter that blanketed his bed and the curtains that were bundled at the sides of his windows. Speaking of windows, a wide and curved window replaced part of his wall, providing an unobstructed view of the hill on which the castle rested. Sometimes, he thanked luck that he was found by Arden. It was not guaranteed that he would live a similar life of luxury had he been found by someone else.
Edin kept his cash in a drawer before he strode towards the right side of his room and opened the doors to his closet. He picked a simple outfit—he had nothing but simple outfits, actually—before he left his bedchamber. The bathroom was a dozen steps up from the bedroom, on the opposite side, and was just as lavish. Unlike the bedroom, it did not boast a panoramic window, but it did offer a stained-glass ceiling that mimicked the sky and its weather. The cracks copied the constellations of the sky above, its vertices sparkling to mimic the stars. The background would shift between shades of blue—during the day it would be a pale cyan, and at night it would be a deep iodine hue. The clouds would be mapped as well, if there were any, obscuring the ceiling with whites and greys. One might argue that it was better than a window, for a ceiling did not carry the risk of being seen in a state of undress.
Edin shed his clothes and threw them into the laundry basket. He then stepped into the shower area. He turned the handle before he sat. Warm water streamed from the showerhead and cleansed his skin of any remnant of red. He leaned back and sighed. There was nothing more soothing than an endless stream of warmth. Though most times he would shower quickly to conserve water, he could not help but indulge in a long shower every once in a while. During these moments, he would sit back and relish his time in the bathroom. Warm water always brought him a sense of calm, as though it dissolved all his worries and carried them away as it rolled off his skin.
After what felt like a short while, he held up his right hand and glanced at his fingertips. They were wrinkly. Edin got up, lathered himself with soap and shampoo, then rinsed. He emerged from the shower area, looking as clean and pure as he was before the battle. He gazed upward. The sky was now a gradient of soft pink and tangerine, bordered by a bit of violet. Sunset. Whatever worries that were washed away had been refilled.
He was almost late for dinner.