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Book 11: Chapter 92: Face (1)

An eerie sound filled Dyon’s ears.

There was the scrapping of old, ragged clothing against rusted armor. There were the soft steps of worn boots lazily scuffing against the ground. There was light rattling of loosely hanging objects knocking against one another in a dreary, repeated rhythm.

As the figure came into sight, Dyon felt his heart freeze over.

It was a looming, lanky figure standing at two and half meters tall. Its body was draped by a dark grey cloak with numerous holes within it. There even seemed to be a brownish-red substance caked to the bottoms of the figure’s frayed cloak edges and soft boots.

Its head was covered by a grey helmet, matching the armor hiding its ragged cloak, only revealing two pale blue flames in place where its eyes should have been.

Dyon believed for a moment that the horse it should have had would not be appearing, but then he saw the black chain the looming figure held.

Rattling along its links were skulls of all shapes and sizes… They came as small as what could only come from a premature birth, to as large as a giant’s. Yet, nothing was as gruesome as what was only the other end of the long chain…

The first thing Dyon saw was a hoof. However, it wasn’t firmly planted on the ground as it should have been. Instead, it lied weakly on its side being dragged along the etched floors.

Soon, the horse came into full view. Its eyes weakly flickered as it laid on its side. The chain wrapped around its neck, pulling it across the ground as though it was already dead.

However, what was the most ghastly was the long vertical slit along its rounded belly. Inner organs spilled outward, festering with a disgusting blue, yellow and green color that completely overshadowed what should have been its lush grey coat.

The smell made one sick to their stomach. For the first time, Dyon felt lucky that he hadn’t eaten in the last year.

Soon, Dyon realized that he had been so distracted by the disgusting scene being dragged along by one of the looming figure’s hands, that he completely missed what was held in its other… However, soon Dyon understood the reason why he missed it wasn’t only because of his negligence, but also because it seemed to meld into the shadows as though it didn’t exist at all…

It had a long pole standing at just over three meter long. To one end of it, there was a curved blade so large that it dwarfed even the horse being dragged behind it.

Dyon had swung his fair share of scythes in his lifetime. But this one… this time… it felt like the first he had ever truly seen.

‘… I want it.’

Dyon’s gaze didn’t have the fear one should have had when facing Death. He only felt that something within him suddenly clicked, something he had been looking for his whole life.

He realized in that moment that he hadn’t been gravitating toward the sword because it was the weapon for him. Rather, that was only his inner self subconsciously telling him that dividing his weapon prowess over so many disciplines was foolish.

The sword was only a gateway… A gateway that opened his heart to the idea of using just a single weapon… A gateway that led to the scythe!

“How good of you, Death… Bringing me exactly what I needed… Come!”

As though provoked, the rattling of shifting bones sounded from beneath Death’s helmet. An instant later, a blood curdling scream was projected outward.

Dyon felt as though his brain was being turned to mush. He had heard Jasmine scream before, unleashing her Evil Qi to the utmost… But it paled in comparison to this.

It was as though Death tapped into every tragedy to occur from the dawn of time. All the tears shed for lost parents, children, friends… spouses.

Something deep within Dyon stirred. His gaze reddened, flooding with an uncontrollable stream of tears.

It was an odd sight to behold. Dyon’s face had become emotionless, yet his eyes bawled without pause. The torrent had an outpouring fierce enough to wash part of the blood that had caked to his face over months of battle away.

Dyon brandished his crimson blade.

“… Something about you really pisses me off.”

Dyon spoke as though he couldn’t feel the tears fall from his cheeks.

He didn’t truly understand what was happening. However, there were two individuals he could think of that were worthy of his grief.

There was his loving mother. Her gentle smile, her soft touch, her soothing voice.

There was his loving father. His strong back, his determined gaze, his caring hand.

Maybe these were the sorts of deaths you never got over. Dyon only now realized that he hadn’t moved on from the deaths of his parents, but had simply learned to live with them.

But now this arrogant Death bastard stood before him, screaming that shrill, bone rattling scream as though intent on reminding him every moment of pain he had experienced in his lifetime.

Even though Dyon body was still in a sorry state, even though half his organs were still no different from pudding and his bones had too many fractures to count, he was filled with a strength ignited by his fury.

He wanted nothing more than to kill Death.