Reborn In Ash
Chapter 1: The Fire and Ash
It had been a cold Autumn day, in the village of Astrid.
The trees had long since lost their life, the withered leaves, the last remainder of spring quickly disappearing into the night, carried by the frigid wind. It would soon be winter, at it was already showing it's fangs, proving itself to be one of the coldest and harshest winters to come.
The large, thick, and grey walls of the village were truly strong. For 50 years they had defended the village, from the cold wind, from the threat of nature, and more importantly, from the Dark, the grimm themselves.
But however, all good things must come to an end.
For good times, create weak people.
The same weak people that guarded the walls, and gate of the village.
Without fear of any threat from the outside, happily trusting their lives, their families, and their village to the walls, they had drank on the job.
It costed them everything.
After a night of drinking, the last one in a long string of them, they made a mistake, that ended everything.
Silver, the guard responsible for closing the gate, was a notorious light-weight, but despite that fact, he had still drunk as much as he had been able to fit in his stomach, and so, he passed out in front of the gate...
Without closing it.
A stupid mistake.
And so, with an opened gate, the Dark had come.
One lonely beowulf was the first, to enter the village, for nothing more than a few seconds.
But in those few seconds, the pack had gathered.
The horde of Darkness had stormed the village.
Beowulfs stormed the ground, ripping doors, windows, and killing all inside.
The terror in the people, the fear and hatred as they watched their loved ones killed and eaten alive, it called for the Dark.
And the Dark had answered.
Fast, a never-ending streak of darkness on the moon-lit sky, a flock of nevermores had devoured the sky whole, eating and ripping anything they could get their talons on. The earth had been filled with tunnelers, serpentine ground snakes, kin to the king taijitus. The ground had received help, as the Alpha of the beowulfs joined the slaughter itself, followed by a stampede of boarbatusks.
The village was truly and utterly defenseless.
All they could hope for, cling on, was the last of the strong.
The last true hunter in their village.
A blonde man, with blue eyes. He was tall, with a slim but muscular frame. A short beard covered his chin, his firm jaw, blonde, like his hair. Not wearing a speck of armor, the man's defense was nothing but a shield, his attack, a sword, and the sharpest eyes that a man could have.
He was a man forged in battle, taught by his father, a man even greater than him.
Despite the good times, this man had always trained, had always prepared.
And now was the moment to use everything he had received and created.
In a battlefield, of wolves attacking sheep, he had been like a lion.
He dived, tore everything asunder.
No creature of Dark could defeat him.
The beowulfs feel one by one, the boarbatusks all collapsed, their armor shattered, the nevermores were brought down the moment they dived for him, and the tunnelers were split in half the moment their pincers pierced the earth.
Even the alpha, the strongest that the Dark had brought fell to his blade.
No attack could pierce his shield.
No armor could protect the Dark from his sword.
And yet he was still, just a human.
No matter how many he killed, tens more would come, again and again.
And when the man saw hope, when he saw the horde finally faltering, an adversary worthy to face him had appeared.
Large, imposing, it towered over the walls as it flew and landed into the middle of the village, the houses crashing to the ground.
It had four limbs, and a pair of wings, with a lizard-like body.
A dragon kin of Dark.
But it wasn't like any of it's kin. It was far more than just another page of an empty book.
It was pitch black, even it's armor, that should have been white was black. There was no plaiting, only scales, that reflected the moonlight, lighting up it's body. Two horns rose from it's head, like the crown of a king, curving upwards towards the middle of it's skull.
It's maw opened, as a terrifying roar erupted forward, the sharp teeth visible now, glistening with saliva.
It had been a horrifying vision, and yet the man didn't falter.
He stood his ground, as his shield rose high, his sword held at the ready.
The man was afraid, and yet he didn't flee.
Not for the sake of the village anymore, but for the sake of his family.
His wife, and his eight children, locked inside the family safehouse.
He knew what would happen, should he run or should he fall.
And yet despite those stakes, despite his best efforts, he fell.
Because in the end, despite being a strong man, he was still just a human.
The Dragon roared, spitting fire through the village, lighting it, and delivering the final blow.
The man was broken in body, as he bleed and suffered, the cold earth his only witness.
The weak people had long since all died, bringing the worst of times.
But the Dragon was of the Dark, like any other.
Far smarter, far stronger, but still of the Dark. And so, it preyed on negative emotions, on suffering, fear and hatred. And because of it's intelligence, it decided to break the man, break his very soul, because there was no greater pleasure for it.
It walked forward, as the ground cracked and tremored, towards the house the human had so desperately tried to defend.
And with one swing of it's tail, ripped the entire house apart.
All that was left, was a basement, locked with heavy iron chains.
The man had roared, he threw himself at the beast, weapon raised high, nothing but a broken blade. He was thrown aside by the tail, and pinned to the ground under it. And then, it placed it's claw on the basement door, and ripped it apart, along with the chains, in a casual display of power.
It had been nothing but a tug for it.
And then, it's claw reached deep inside, showing no regard to the screaming man.
And then it found something.
A woman was plucked, as the man's pupils widened in terror, delicious terror for the creature.
He raised her high, opened it's maw...
And dropped her inside.
No blood escape the death-trap of it's maw
The man screamed, he screamed such a blood-curling sound that made the creature look curiously at him, before turning back towards the hole.
It wanted to hear the sound again.
And so it did it again, again and again, until seven people, including the woman, found their demise in the pits of the creatures stomach.
The man was now broken, both in mind and body.
But now, the creature had problems catching it's prey. It constantly eluded him, despite it's best attempts.
And so it decided to end it faster.
Taking a deep breath, it roared fire into the hole.
It ate away at everything inside, devoured everything that it could.
And then it stopped, not caring for the fate that the creature had left behind, and looked at the man.
The man had finally broke, in mind, body, and soul.
And yet he showed, one last moment of beauty.
With nothing but a broken blade, he cut off the tail of the monster, and leapt towards the monster's gullet, a final attack that was never supposed to happen. The monster couldn't react fast enough. All it could do was launch it's tail at the hunter, a desperate attack.
And so they ended the fight.
The monster's mask shattered, it's massive head split in half, and it's tail pierced the torso of the man.
Both beings had died at the same time, in a rain of blood and ichor.
The fight had ended, and nothing remained anymore.
The grimm had left, the Dark returning to the forest, in their wake, a ruined village covered in a great blaze.
And so the cold wind met the flames.
But something had remained.
The hole left two more things.
A body burned to ashes, that covered a long coat.
It was a fire dust weaved one, barely big enough for one person.
And below it, a blonde child with blue eyes, barely 5 years old, that fell asleep crying in his oldest sister's care.
Weak men create bad times, but bad times...
Bad times create strong men.
The world will better prepare, for the birth of one of the strongest men to ever walk on Remnant.
A man made like a sword.
Forged in the flames of hatred, of rage, of the Dark.
Baptized in the ash and blood of his dearest, in the sacrifice of his family.
Cursed by God Himself.
A monster... to end all monsters.