Chapter Two: "Ivan the Terrible"


Truth be told, having lived for some years already up to this sweltering day, Bacrast wasn't all too nervous when he'd heard from Swiffle that a Claymore was coming up the village road. As a matter of fact, the filthy half breeds known as Claymores – Silver Eyed Slayers, Warriors, Witches – were something of a familiarity to devious him. Indeed, in the past where he'd forever kept to the shadows where it was safer, Bacrast had observed other of his overconfident yoma kind encounter as well as die against the iconic, silver eyed humans who wielded massive swords with speed, power along with skill.

Mind, most if not all of the Claymore warriors Bacrast had witnessed during his twisted existence had been female; frail, beautiful, pale looking humans whose eyes had always spoke volumes of their hardships, loneliness, anger and more. In turn, over the years, it'd become a common fact to Bacrast that the half breed yoma who hunted down the true blood yoma were made up of women.

Today, though, while his six fellows were hidden close by, as he innocently stood in his human form at the front entryway of Tereme watching the east road coming into the village, Bacrast found that his theory was wrong about the Claymores being all females. For in the distance, he could see now that Swiffle had been speaking true back on the rooftop. Indeed, Bacrast could see an armored figure down the road gradually approaching the doomed town, he could tell that the armored figure – even though hooded and cloaked – was male, he could see two massive claymores of shining steel strapped to the male figure's back and most of all… he could feel the nearing stranger's monstrous aura radiating through the air like the heat of the day.

This cloaked stranger who was coming to Tereme without even remotely trying to hide his power from the senses of his prey, this half breed bearing two swords of his hunting organization rather than one, Bacrast could tell that he meant business. Yet, with a sinister smile to himself, Bacrast didn't revert into his yoma form. Instead, with his heart pounding excitedly rather than in fear, he decided not to retreat but to observe the male claymore arrive to Tereme's front gate.

After all, whether he was a man or not, this claymore with two swords was alone and out in the open… while Bacrast's group was hidden and at their strongest.

It took a few minutes more for the cloaked claymore man to make his way to Tereme's front gate. All the while, under Bacrast's focused gaze, he didn't quicken his step or slow down or look around or act like he was suspicious of anything like most any other warrior of his kind would most certainly have done from the very beginning. And what was most shocking about the male claymore was what he did when feet away from the leader of the six other yoma. He didn't spring in to attack but… he swept aside his traveling cloak, stabbed both of his swords into the earth and then sat almost leisurely down with his back against the rooted blades.

At the moment the young claymore man had taken a seat on the ground, Bacrast's mind had launched into a series of confused questions. Back in his past of studying them, he knew no claymore would have done such a thing as sit with enemies present. So, there had to be a reason for the male half breed's curious actions.

What was the purpose of the claymore sitting down then? What was going on? Was this somehow a joke? Was this a test of some kind or a method of measuring the severity of the situation?

Well, in human opinion as sneering Bacrast knew, the severity of the situation in Tereme was dire. After a week of having been assaulted by demons, the people here were seized with fear. And during the last week, after having gotten their fill of flesh, Bacrast knew that his hidden pack of followers were at their absolute strongest. That or they were stronger than ever before in their lives. Thus, seeing as there were seven of them at full strength and just one of him, there was absolutely no way – NONE – that this lone claymore male, although impressive looking, was going to survive his visit to Tereme.

Maybe the young claymore man knew that already? Perhaps he was praying to whatever higher power for a merciful death in the near future? How funny it would be for Bacrast and his group if the sitting claymore was actually surrendering to them. In turn, how much more funny it would be for the half breed to learn that Yoma didn't take prisoners… alive, heh.

"I hope you don't mind me saying so but you look weary, traveler." Bacrast began speaking coolly, not afraid of addressing the seated claymore still in his human form with his pack watching over him nearby in many different places, "Have you had a long walk? Where do you come from?"

"Hah, yeah, I must look more dead than alive right now. I know that the village inn is only several dozen feet away from here. Yet, you see, I've been on my feet for the last four days walking west from the village of Murdock to get here." The claymore male replied not bitterly but with a laugh, making Bacrast feel even more certain that his foe wasn't looking for a fight, "And I gotta tell you, I've heard of being one with nature but jeez… the last few days have been ridiculous for me."

After he got done speaking his piece, the young claymore man pulled back the hood of his traveling cloak to show his face that looked to be in his late twenties in human years. In turn, Bacrast observed the half breed's rather relaxed human features – a sharp nose, white, wind-swept hair cut short that stood up into the air rather than laid down on his head, a pair of eyes as silver as stars at night – with little interest. What he did find interesting, though, was the claymore's disarming smile.

No claymore smiled for nothing. No claymore smiled unless finished with a job and which was a rare sight to be seen by anyone anywhere. So what was going on here? While sitting down with his back propped against his pair of swords, why was this yoma half breed smiling?

Something wasn't right here. Bacrast knew he held the advantage of surprise, of numbers, of strength over this smiling claymore man… So why did something feel off in the yoma pack leader's guts? Maybe it was the relaxed attitude of his foe? Perhaps it had to do with his enemy's now not monstrous but average aura? Where had all of the half breed's strength gone all of a sudden?

"Murdock you say? My oh my, if that town is four days from here than it really must have been quite the hike for you to get here to the middle of nowhere, right?" Bacrast wondered innocently, still trying to keep up the game of him being human rather than beast before the eyes of a claymore for his own amusement, "Still, if I may ask, why have you come out here to the middle of nowhere? Does it have to do with those two swords of yours?"

"Yes, you could say that me being out here has to do with these blades of mine. Forgive me, I haven't made a proper introduction. My name is Ivan. Ivan the Terrible." The male claymore introduced with a wider smile to Bacrast before motioning to the claymores in his possession, "And these beauties you're looking at are Gungnir and Garm. If you forget our names anytime soon, don't worry. I'm quite certain that you and the rest of the occupants of this town will come to be familiar with us by today's end."

"Heh, I'm sure we will, silver eyed Ivan the Terrible." Bacrast said back, feeling his aura starting to grown intense with the way the conversation was going, "And how foolish of me to call you traveler before when clearly you're a claymore who has come to hunt down the yoma here."

"And how foolish for you to have acted human all of this time when you're everything but." Ivan, the male claymore, laughed aloud without fear, "Come on, drop the act and show me what you've become since the day you and your comrades chose this unfortunate village as your feeding ground last week. You know you want to. Face me openly, not cowardly."

Within the blink of an eye, with a heartbeat, within a breath, Bacrast no longer stood as a human with Ivan at the village front gate but as the muscular, hardened, demonic yoma creature that he was. Like back on the rooftop, his legs had lengthened, his arms now bulged with veins and muscle, his slitted eyes shined gold in the sunlight, his rows of sharp teeth reinforced his eerie grin.

However, no matter how intimidating his adversary, Ivan never moved, gasped or showed weakness towards the newly shown yoma. Rather, he studied Bacrast for a long moment before shrugging his shoulders to himself along with looking disappointed.

"What a waste of time. What a waste of human life." Ivan sighed, shaking his head ruefully, "Last week, in Murdock, I listened to several runners of Tereme the horrors that had happened here last week. As I expected, here you yoma have been causing trouble and murdering good people in this village for the last seven days and… then I get here to find that none of you monsters are a fourth as strong as I thought. You've squabbled your time here, yoma. Your fun is over, as is your existence."

Such confidence was not something that Bacrast had expected to hear from the claymore man after he'd turned into his bestial form. Not only that, the yoma pack leader was instantly infuriated by Ivan's scolding lecture of how he as well as his pack of hunters were supposedly weak. Too weak to be taken seriously by a lone half breed who was sitting on the ground unarmed, outnumbered and open for any kind of attack.

"Ah, so some of the messengers of this little village found you in Murdock, half breed? I suppose you used big words to reassure those fools that you would make a difference here. And now you're still using big words, although you're only a lone half breed who has been walking for the last four days to a dead town and is now tired out." Bacrast rasped patiently, trying not to let a overconfident half breed get the best of him, "But that's all you're going to be, half breed. You're just big words, no action. You're too tired to take this village from me or my fellows who have you surrounded. You're the fool who didn't take a day to rest before coming here to fight. That'll be your last mistake in this life."

"Hmf, so you admit that you have accomplices? How nice of you to dash my doubts. The messengers said something about being assailed by a number of yoma while coming to Murdock for help. As for me walking four days, I cannot take a day to rest." Ivan admitted simply, shrugging to himself again, "Not when I know that there are humans dying in the meantime. No, not dying… being ripped apart for no particular reason by pitiless creatures that go by the names of yoma."

"And why do you care about what happens to the humans here? What do you and your other claymore friends care about what we yoma do?" Bacrast growled in a sneer, flexing his claws, "You're a half breed. You're not either of the two species you're talking about. You're not human and you're not yoma. You're something else completely and I will tell you what you will soon enough be, though."

"I'll be dead, right?" Ivan laughed, saying what Bacrast was going to say a moment ago, "Honestly, can you yoma not be any more original? Do you have any idea how many times you monsters have told me that over the years? Dozens if not hundreds by now have said I'm going to die... and yet, here I still am."

Dozens if not hundreds of times, this Ivan character had been told by yoma that he was going to be dead soon? That was a bluff. It had to be! Right? Yes, seeing with how very lacking of action he was at the moment, Ivan just had to be bluffing! He was full of BLUFFS!

Well, Bacrast was no fool. He was going to shut this half breed up for good! And he was going to do so without his pack's help!

"All of my fellows out there, listen to what I have to say!" Bacrast roared out to the surrounding prairie land and houses, achieving a volume that only something like a yoma could and not a human, "None of you will be needed. I'll kill this runt on my own. None of you interfere or I'll skin you alive!"

Silence was what answered Bacrast's orders. A silence that Ivan understood too for he looked a little impressed.

"I see. So not only is there more than one yoma in this area… but they haven't been independent for the last week. They've had a leader." The male claymore said, looking to Bacrast expectedly, "You?"

"Yes. I'm their leader, half breed. I've been their leader for quite a time now." Bacrast declared, brimming with proud energy that he was sure couldn't be matched, "And this village is just the beginning of an army. After my pack has eaten what can be eaten here, we'll move on to the next settlement of morsels and have our fill. Heck, you've just given me the next town to go to; lovely Murdock. I'll even begin recruiting other yoma on my way there!"

Going with the moment, moving at unbelievable speed, Bacrast dashed forward towards Ivan who was still seated upon the ground! This was it! On this day, Bacrast would defeat a male claymore, ensure his position as leader over his fellows, devour the rest of Tereme and move on to become a true monster in the future! Yes, how wonderful, how spectacular, how delicious, how – Huh?

Bacrast's thoughts of glory, flesh and blood were brought to a screeching halt when he realized Ivan was no longer sitting on the ground before him. Apart for his shredded traveling cloak in the yoma leader's flexing claws, the male claymore had vanished from sight! Furiously, shredding the rest of the cloak in his hands and throwing it aside, Bacrast skidded to a halt on the road, looked around, then couldn't help but feel shocked to see Ivan sitting leisurely at the village entrance; the place where Bacrast had been standing before dashing forward towards the claymore seconds ago!

And now that he was rid of his traveling cloak, Ivan the Terrible's true appearance as a claymore was visible to the world. His tall, muscled, toned, tanned body was armored in silver plate mail, radiating brilliantly in the sunlight like a pearl lying out in the open on the shore of a beach. Even by his enemies, he was truly quite the sight to be beheld.

Yet, with all of that armor weighing him down… this was impossible. In matter of seconds, unknowingly, it had been like Ivan as well as Bacrast had swapped their positions without the yoma leader even being aware of it. Yet, how had that occurred without Bacrast's knowing? Having traveled for the last four days, with his meager power level, how had the young claymore man up and vanished from the yoma pack leader's keen sight?

Was Ivan… was he… had he actually been so fast a moment ago that he'd literally dodged Bacrast's assault as silent and fast as the wind? No… NO, the half breed didn't have nearly as strong an aura as Bacrast! This little disappearing act had just been some sort of illusion, some sort of magic, some sort of pure luck on Ivan's part.

"You should know that you're going to lose this fight, yoma. You already lost when you decided to stay here in the village and face me rather than run." Ivan spoke grimly, making Bacrast hesitate attacking again for a second, "It's true, I've come out here to the middle of nowhere today. Nevertheless, a claymore is never sent anywhere without reason. A claymore doesn't arrive anywhere without purpose."

Bacrast blinked his eyes. Then he snarled when he saw that Ivan was gone again. He didn't have far to look for the slippery claymore. Not when the half breed was literally standing on his shoulders with his two swords in his hands.

How… how had the half breed gotten there without being seen? Magic? Illusions? Agility? Who knew. Who could even begin to guess.

"My reason for being here in Tereme should be obvious to you and your fellows hiding everywhere. That's why you were here waiting for me while I walked up to this village's front door." Ivan stated above suddenly uncertain Bacrast, "I've come here to end the nightmare, to save the people, to clean out the trash. I've come to make sure you never do to any other village what you've done to Tereme. I've come here for a fight. A fight that you creatures can't win."

"Big words…" Bacrast growled, shaking with pent up fury at being talked down to and shown up by a half breed, "Big words… FROM A TIRED OUT HALF BREED!"

The yoma pack leader shook himself violently to get rid of his supposed superior. Then, as Ivan hopped down onto the ground behind the shaking yoma leader, with monstrous might behind his blow, with his own inhuman agility, Bacrast whirled around to slash the claymore man to ribbons!

The only problem was… that Ivan wasn't there anymore for confused Bacrast to strike.

THWOCK!

"Eh?" Bacrast managed to wonder in bewilderment, looking dumbly down at his chest where two claymores – Gungnir and Garm – were piercing him through his back and Ivan stood with them in his hands, "How did you… get behind… me… What… what… I don't…"

In a single moment, no matter how strong he'd felt beforehand, all of the fight had left Bacrast after the two lethal blows from Ivan's Gungnir and Garm blades. Next, the yoma pack leader slumped to the ground on his knees, his mind whirling with questions and disbeliefs.

This male claymore, Ivan, was powerful? Oh yes, he was powerful. His aura… it wasn't meager anymore but vast and endless. Earlier, as he'd been sitting against his swords, he'd kept it low to make it seem like he was weak and to lure his enemies into a false sense of sureness. That'd been his plan from the very start and Bacrast had walked right into it. Now the yoma leader was down for the count. Yet, he wouldn't die without doing one last thing.

"Curses…" Bacrast growled, feeling Ivan's silver eyes on the back of his head, "I seems that you… that you got me… half breed…"

"Of course I did." Ivan actually chuckled, a humble smile coming onto his pale face, "I'm Ivan the Terrible, after all. Out here in the middle of nowhere, I've come to end you. And so, you have been ended."

"Perhaps I have been." Bacrast snickered, then roared out, "BROTHERS, FINISH THE HALF – ERK!"

In a shower of yoma blood, with a clean if not invisibly speedy withdrawal of his blades from his prey's body and then a beautiful horizontal slash, Ivan beheaded Bacrast mid-yell. Then, as Bacrast's furiously expression of a head rolled away from the slumping body, several things happened in quick succession. Firstly, as if he were a vicious top, Ivan whirled his claymores in a menacing spin around him. Secondly, being the first to answer their leader's words and enter the fray of battle, Swiffle and Pasnar were ripped into shreds in the spinning maelstrom of blades. Thirdly, Ivan took a moment to clean off his blades on the ground during the resulting silence.

"That's three yoma." The claymore man said aloud, finishing cleaning his swords meanwhile, "That leaves just the four of you."

Standing rigid before the claymore surrounded by the bloody remains of their brethren, Henit and the three remaining yoma didn't have a chance to even try to put up a good fight. Not when both Gungnir and Garm were thrown forward, skewered a gawking yoma in the face each, then their wielder began beating the living energy out of Henit and the other surviving yoma with his bare fists.

Oh but was Ivan really just using his bare fists? Judging by the way his punches left gashes in the defending yoma and tore them up with ease… No, the claymore wasn't just punching flesh with flesh. He was punching flesh with his spiked gauntlet knuckles.

In a heartbeat, shaking with pain and fear, Henit was the only yoma left breathing. Seconds ago, with a sickening crack of bone, his companion's head had been literally torn off by a well-placed punch from Ivan. Now with only the grim silence of Tereme to be heard, after a matter of moments, there was only Henit the cruel to stand against the monstrous might of Ivan the Terrible.

Mind, not much fighting happened during this time. Not when Henit actually saw he had no chance of winning the feud and began to beg for mercy.

"Alright, I see now… None of us stood a chance against you, whatever you are." The last yoma began to ramble, taking a step back from Ivan intently watching him, "I've also seen the error of my ways. Tell you what, if you let me go then I promise to never – GYARGH!"

Henit flew off of his feet, rolled across the ground, then was left to feel the aching spot where he'd been punched across the face. Using speed unmatched, Ivan had literally almost teleported before the pleading yoma and delivered a savage right hook to the beast's mouth. All done because Ivan hadn't shown mercy since he'd been made a claymore many years back… and wasn't about to be interested in doing so now.

For the grim claymore man knew the ways of the yoma better than most anyone else alive. He knew that if the tables were turned at the moment… Henit would not have listened to his own pleading for mercy. Not that he would ever beg for mercy from such monsters. No, he would bring as many of them with him as possible if ever faced with death.

"Don't say anything else, yoma." Ivan coldly cut across Henit's blubbering, retrieving Garm and Gungnir from the yoma they'd impaled moments ago, "Just accept your fate. For you of all things do not deserve to speak the word "mercy". Not when you have not shown any to this village for the last week."

Using his monster speed, Henit actually tried to make his getaway while Ivan was getting his swords back. This proved to be a futile plan when, with careless ease it seemed, the claymore appeared before the retreating monster, kicked it squarely in the chest and knocked it back down onto the ground where it coughed roughly.

As Henit coughed, Ivan the Terrible shook his head. Such a disgusting existence… the yoma had. To devour, to destroy, then try to squirm away when their judgment days came for them.

"No, look, I – I'll change!" Henit whined, sounding fearful as Ivan raised his two blades into the air for the last blow, "I swear it! Please, don't kill me!"

"Shut up." Ivan stated, not at all buying what he was being told, "Shut up and die quietly, beast."

Yet, as he looked to finish his mission of ridding Tereme of yoma, something made Ivan pause in finishing the job. His senses had abruptly picked up something to his right at the village entrance and, out of instinct, his focus turned towards there where a familiar sight greeted his eyes.

Standing at Tereme's front entrance were people, the survivors of the last horrific week who had come outdoors to see what was going on. All of them were thin, depressed, sickly looking. All of them had clearly not been able to sleep for quite some time… and after having done so much claymore work already, Ivan knew that they wouldn't be able to do so for who knew how long.

Even with the yoma gone, their lives would be forever changed. They would never be the same villagers of Tereme like a week ago.

"RAUGH!" Henit roared out slashing Ivan away from him and, at seeing the gathered villagers, making a dash for the village entrance, "Your hesitation is your downfall, half breed!"

In a flash of movement, with screams from everyone, as Ivan observed, Henit seized a hostage from the panicking masses; a little girl of ten years old who had the appearances of a doll with blue eyes, golden brown skin, sapphire blue eyes and blonde locks of hair cascading down her face. And although in the clutches of a monster, the doll like girl didn't scream or wail or even show fear. Instead, to Ivan's silent wonder, she looked at him resolutely.

Such a gaze as the little girl's… spoke only one thing; she was ready to die. She was ready for him to kill her to get to the yoma. If required, anyway.

"Ha ha ha! You can't do anything to me now, half breed! Nothing!" Henit screamed, holding his child hostage close to him by her hair as he began to back away from Ivan, "Heh heh! We're done here. And look, I get to take this little lunch with me. How ironic for you, eh?"

"Fools." Ivan chuckled, shaking his head, "Every last one of you yoma are fools."

"What?" Henit wondered, pausing for a moment in what he was doing.

"After all I've done to your comrades… After all I've shown you… You really think this is how this battle is going to end?" Ivan stated, still chuckling while taking a step forward, "You're a fool, yoma. You and your species. I am Ivan the Terrible. No matter what you do, I am your end."

"Stop! Don't take another step!" Henit snarled, putting his claws to the still unafraid doll of a girl's neck, "Take one more step and this little thing gets bled like a-"

THWACK!

"Huh…?"

At first, simply, it seemed like nothing had happened to Henit. True, a moment ago, he'd felt something like a poking sensation on his neck. Yet, it hadn't been that big of a deal to worry about. Then, he slowly registered that he wasn't holding his hostage anymore. She was now in Ivan's embrace who now stood inches away rather than feet.

"Why… why can't I move..?" Henit wondered to himself, seeing Ivan had come so close to him within the blink of an eye, "How did that half breed… get so close… without me… seeing him do… so…"

Next, ever so slowly, Henit's feelings numbed and his vision blurred. This was due to his head having popped from his shoulders in a shower of blood and hitting the ground with his lifeless body.

Silence. Deathly silence. For the longest time, that was all that was heard throughout Tereme when the last yoma fell dead to the ground. Then, with a flourish of his swords, Ivan sheathed away his weapons onto his back and turned to the citizens around him.

"Your trials are over. Your nightmares have come to an end." He said to the villagers, smiling a small smile that he knew all the while would do little good to ease their grief, "The yoma are gone. You're free of their bloodlust."

Again, there was only silence at Ivan's words. Then there came sobs, weeping, crying from the villagers. At seeing so much carnage for the last week, at seeing the yoma were dead at long last, people wept openly with relief, with distress, with sadness.

Mind, no matter the negativity of the weeping, it was all familiar to Ivan. For he'd done it before. Yes, he'd done so countless times… Before he'd become a claymore… Yes, yes, yes… Before he'd become Ivan the Terrible…

"Are you alright, little one?" Ivan got around to asking the doll like girl he had at his side, "Yes, you look okay. Tell me… you had a history with that yoma, didn't you? That's why he pick you out of the crowd, no?"

"I…" The dollish girl mumbled, not crying or anything but staying quieter than everyone else, "Yesterday, the yoma… I saw it eat-"

"Someone you held dear?" Ivan sighed, "Someone like family, a friend, a loved one?"

"Yes…" The doll girl muttered, looking towards her feet, "It ate… my cousin."

"And now, it will do no such thing to you or anyone else here." Ivan stated, hugging the girl tighter to him for a moment, "Do you understand me? You are safe now."

"Really?" The girl mumbled, tears suddenly streaming from her glassy eyes, " T-thank y-you…"

"Hm. You shouldn't thank me." Ivan replied, allowing the little girl to put her face into his side and cry openly while he looked grimly to hurting people of ruined Tereme, "I wouldn't thank me at least. Although I wasn't even supposed to, I came here as fast as I could. Yet, I still arrived… a bit too late for your sake. For this entire village's sake."


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