Chapter 3 (Zeodin POV): Find the Real
Tension was high as a young warrior struggled to fight his way out of an unfair assault. This squall was in an alley of Regulus. The fighting gang, The Left Hooks, lost their first tournament to a young man named Zeodin. The man was attacked the immediate day after the Coliseum Days tournament in Regulus. Losing was uncommon to The Left Hooks, and they wanted to get this Zeodin back for his win.
"Why are you fighting? Can't you just take a beating and not be such sore losers?" he pleaded, but they didn't take note of him. They just wanted reprisal. Zeodin was a tall, 23-year-old warrior from the town of Altair. He had short, blonde hair and brown eyes. Zeodin always wears his silver colored armor. As a boy, Farnham the Splendid One, a paladin who boasts considerable talents, trained him. He wields a broadsword and a roman cetra shield, which of both he made. He entered tournaments across the continent to train himself, and others. For tournaments he uses a blunt broadsword that replicates his normal broadsword so he will not fatally wound any other combatant.
"Shut up, freak! We don't take it easy on foreigners!" The gang's commanding leader flung invective words toward Zeodin to throw off his guard. But Zeodin knew how to counter this. This time, the bladed he wielded wasn't blunt. He would defend his life with this cursed blade. He performed a back flip and prepared to strike. This threw his attackers asunder as he cut through one of them. Blood splattered on his face. He tasted it… Tainted. These sinners have come into contact with the Soul Edge. Zeodin would find it, even if it were the last thing he do…
"Who has the Soul Edge? If you are present, give me the piece and I will let you live." A subtle warning that was useless, as he predicted they would not listen.
"And if we refuse?"
"Hah, inferior. You should not have defied me." Zeodin lunged at the leader and put his blade to his throat.
"I'll kill you if you refuse. You should have stayed away…" Zeodin could sense fear under his breath. All he could think of was powering the Miragus, the alchemic weapon he made with the souls of killed fighters in tournaments. Another piece of Soul Edge was all he needed.
"My patience is wearing thin! What will it be?"
"Give… him the piece…." 'Ha, that's more like it'
"Weaklings at heart… I knew it! Why did you bother coming here? God will sort you out."
"But you said we could…"
"I lied." Zeodin hated killing, but it was his duty to slay those who are plagued by the sins of Pandora's box. These damned men were going to die a similar death anyway.
Zeodin left one of the men alive to report what happened to their founder. It would be rude to disappear without a reputation, as he found out The Left Hooks are renowned for their stupidity and hind sightedness. They cannot think things through. Zeodin clutched his new Soul Edge fragment and set off towards his home in Altair. He began to think as he started walking. A new feeling set in, Zeodin had a feeling of fulfillment he had not acquired before after having to kill. The Soul Edge? It was altering his mentality… death… blood… Oh how he longed for more…
What was he thinking? He hates killing, and wants no more death than what has to be done. He is a consecrated man, who opposes wrongfulness. He had to forge it into his Miragus before something worse than these thoughts occur…
