It was dark, and the clashing of metal could be heard. Muffled, but distinct. The taste of the earth in his mouth was so bitter, it quickly awoke the senses and accelerated his thoughts. Thinking back to what he could have happened he found he had a hard time remembering. What was it that happened again? There was speed. There was danger. He felt his body ache and the pain began to lift the haze. It was her. She put him there, it was her doing. But, he was alive and such a realization he found remarkable considering his situation. He killed one of his own and his crime would not be overlooked, regardless of his reasons. Though his consideration on the matter began to grow, his good sense told him to begin observing his present state.

Starting from the beginning now, it is dark, it is dirty, it is heavy. He was buried, but not by the earth. They were bodies, many bodies over him with their balmy skin and temperature that matched that of the ground. He could feel the pressure from them all and the question form. "So many people. Why are there so many dead?", he thought as calmly as he could, "Cannot stay. I have to see what is happening". He was to exhume himself from the mass grave as quickly as he could. He could feel everyone as he worked his way up, the filth everywhere from the bodies' final release in death. It was putrid in some places, but he kept climbing his way past the dead. That clashing ceased, which got him pondering what it could have been. Likely combat, but near a place like this? Lighter and lighter his burden became as he made it to the top and finally, he threw off the final corpse that rested atop him. He could now see in the obnoxiously bright sun that he had greeted him. So many bodies stripped and sprawled over each other. Men, women and children and what for?

A look around showed that he was actually in a very deep crater and it seemed to have occurred recently somehow. "Wait, that is what happened when I got here", the final piece of his memory fitting in "this is the result of-", that was when he heard the chime of people in armor walking to the precipice. He could see them fairly well. They wore dull armor, clearly battle worn, with helms allowing only a single slit for eyesight. They wore dirty white cloth garbs with a simple crucifix and another strange symbol in the background. He wanted to make sense of it, but the figures stopped at the edge and dropped the body where they stood into the crude resting place for the deceased. Of course, they were not going to miss a figure in tatters standing firm where many others laid. This man with short with brown hair and very unusual attire. He had something that seemed to fit closely to his skin, with white remnants hanging off his arms, waist and collar bone area. His feet exposed at the pads and heels, but bound to his outfit by a strip running under his arches. He looked rather young, but did not possess youth that would make one look boyish. He looked more like a man just come into his prime. What they saw almost seemed to them like one of the casualties had risen from their rest. He definitely looked worse for wear, but looked up at them almost as if he expected something.

"You, there!", one of the figures called out in a hoarse voice, "What in the great Father's name are you doing there!", he said as he drew his dulled blade. He's been out slaying his enemies and he certainly would not let one escape his vigil today. Carefully, the soldier and his compatriot made their way down the slope.
The man among the dead then replied "I am not here by choice, I assure you". As the men approached he took the opportunity to further study the patterns they carry. They are familiar, but the tears and dirt only obscured it more than he realized. He began to speak again "You see, I awoke here to this horrible sight and I hope you could tell me who the ones are responsible for this terrible-"

The soldier, his sword drawn and now directed at the strange man, started up again cutting him off. "You are there because you are meant to lie with those pitiful creatures at our feet."
The man knowing full well what would come next readied himself. "They were people. I also now have reason to believe that you were a part of this slaughter."

" 'Slaughter'. That's a fine word for the fate of these animals and again, you should be lying with them. Surrender to us and your death will be a quick one", the soldier declared.

The soldiers' advance was met with defiance as the man only stood in place, his feet firmly planted. He slowly brought up his hands and assumed a defensive stance. Subsequently, he began to glare at the men from the top of his eyes. "Please, reconsider", he said hoping they would oblige him as he watched the other soldier draw his blade as well. It looked as if the situation would not be resolved peacefully. He didn't want to add to this sprawling mass of the dead, but this was also a sign that perhaps they were to be punished in kind. With complete confidence against an unarmed opponent, the soldier with the hoarse voice took his swing at the ready man.

Before the arc of his blade could reach its end, the soldier found that he only cut through the air as his intended victim sidestepped the attack in the blink of an eye. In no time, he was thrown back by a viciously strong blow that threw him off his feet and left him with a remarkable dent in his chest plate, making it now very difficult to breath. The other soldier now broke his silence to cry out for his brother in arms, "You will die where you stand!", the soldier exclaimed aiming for the man's legs. The soldier would cripple this insolent stranger and then send him off to lie with the rest of the fallen. Instead, his expectations were dashed when he felt his blade jerk downward violently which sent him careening to the ground face first. Incredibly, he held on to his sword through that moment and started to feel his hand pulse with pain. Sure enough, it was broken now. Grabbing at the hilt with his other hand he saw that he could not move his sword from its place. From his position, he could not see that the man had his foot on the flat of his weapon, keeping it firmly in place. "What the devil is this!", the soldier exclaimed.

The man overlooked his fallen assailants briefly. The first still struggling to breathe with his armor still keeping his chest compressed. He began to hastily try to undo his armor, while the second one laid at his feet in pain, with his sword in hand trying to budge it so he can free his injured hand. It sounded like he was starting to panic, it was almost pathetic as his cries escaped his bucket-shaped helm. It seems he had not known the fright of true combat, "Who let this man into armor and gave him a weapon?", thought the man as the soldier at his feet began to mutter something incoherent. It was then that the man bent down and removed the helm from the soldier to hear now with clarity that he was uttering prayers. Prayers for the strength to strike the man down, to survive, and to spread the glory of God. The words rang in the man's ears as perverse blaspheming and it caused his anger to rise.

Suddenly he lifted his foot from the blade and the injured soldier flew back with a fresh scream of pain, while all at once the hoarse-voiced man removed his body armor and collapsed in relief as he caught his breath. Though they appeared humbled, they looked just as intent to take advantage of a moment of weakness to strike back. He was saddened to see such men in their position. They killed those that they considered less than human and regarded them with no respect. "A war for God on Earth? Is that what you are embarked on?", the man asked the soldier with the broken hand.

"We crusade for the truth. We cleanse the world for followers of-", he was abruptly silenced as the hoarse soldier lunged at the man. The breathless warrior would quickly regret his decision when this act caused him to be struck in the chest once more. With only chainmail to protect him, very little of the impact was dispersed and consequentially received several broken ribs. Not wanting another move made by the soldier, the man made a fearful display of power by taking the sword he stepped on and throwing it clear across the crater with ease, burying itself in the side of the pit. He then walked toward the hoarse soldier and removed his helm to find an older man. Battle hardened and a bit too stubborn for his own good, he showed no fear, unlike his comrade with the broken hand who became paralyzed by the small show. The man's eyes met the hoarse soldier's for the first time. The soldier now saw them in great clarity. Deep red eyes. Unreal.

"Devils' spawn.", said the soldier in that distinct voice of his. Although, the pain showed through his warrior's discipline causing him to grunt and wince at the damage he received. It seemed to the man as if he would need time to recover from that verbal jab since he had to catch his breath again. The man then approached him thinking of what he should do with them. The coward probably would not attempt anything more after today, it looks as if he has had enough for the rest of his days but the hoarse one...

The man knelt down and stared harshly at the soldier, "You will stay here and look upon your deeds. Your companion", the man now looked over to the coward "seems to have learned something today. Heed him and do not ever-"

"You Godless mon-" he could not finish as he let out a cry of pain from the man stopping his words with a blow to the abdomen. A simple kick to wind him felt more like a savage beating with those broken bones. The soldier doubled over in agony. If the man could see the soldier's face he would see tears streaming from his eyes. The man thought he deserved that much, but he was not about to kill another for what he suspected alone, as much as he would have wanted to. Not wanting to languish in that awful place, the man began to walk up the rather steep side of the pit keeping uncanny balance. All the while leaving the two soldiers to wallow in anguish with their protests peppering the air. He had just awoken and already he felt responsible for something terrible. His arrival ushering in a place thought fit to fill with corpses of hapless victims.

His thoughts boiled with outrage and confusion. "How could this have happened? What could have sparked such a reason for fighting?", he thought. Knowing humans were all capable of terrible and great things for many reasons, but to do this in the name of the Father and on such a grand scale. His steady feet finally breaching the horizon, he saw the landscape. Plainly put, it was a battlefield and the fallen fighters still littered his sight. The pit clearly segregated the enemy from those that would likely be retrieved soon for a proper burial. Now on level ground he surveyed the land as best as he could and quickly saw a sign of danger. Plumes of rising smoke punctuated with what seemed to be more fighting on the outskirts. Looks as if the battle had moved on to another target.

Wasting no time, the man began broke into a run that seemed to rival the speed of a galloping horse. The ground passing under him in a hurried pace that accelerated so quickly that the gap between him and his goal was rapidly closing. All the while compensating for the unruly terrain of dead people, weapons, stray armor, fallen banners with crosses. Now he could hear the roar of battle growing ever clearer and the figures forming from the mass he observed from afar. Knowing only that people must have been suffering, he would have to jump into the fray to know what was happening. The gap finally closed and he was upon the masses of men in armor.

Instead of attacking, he moved through the crowd as nimbly as he could, stepping between some and even leaping over some crowds. This would not go unnoticed as many began to cry out in astonishment and utter awe. This person was moving through a force of soldiers with unprecedented guile. This disruption captured the attention of more and more of the men as he moved through them, even knocked over by this stranger. Finally he made it to the frontline where the bulk of the fighting took place and he saw the both sides for the first time. Warriors on both sides, but the enemy of the ones bearing crucifixes seemed to be backed against this modest village. Almost as if they were ambushed, some hardly had any protection and simply fought for their lives. It was clear that it had to be stopped, so the man made his next choice.

Having caught the attention of the others he passed, it served to stop some of the fighting but some of the knights began to chant. "An ally!", "One of us!", "A miracle!", and on and on. The knights chanting this man who shot through them all at unearthly speed from their ranks into the fray. They would soon be greatly confused the next moment when this stranger began to break up opponents one at a time at the same amazing speed. It was as if a blur would pass through each of them and throw back everyone making for a tense silence that blanketed the field. The stranger took advantage of this immediately, stopping at the center of the battle line.

The man stood between the two stunned sides and turned to a man who stood against the knights. This defender bore wounds and grit from struggling against those with superior equipment and preparation, his beard scraggly and his clothes with cuts and tears. He tried to speak to the defender, but could not breach the language barrier. The man swore that he should have been able to do so, it was on the tip of his tongue. "What is happening here?", said the man to the defender only to be met with a look of fright. The man took a step back to ease some of the defender's anxiety and surveyed the village behind him. These people could not have been of any menace to the hardened knights encroaching on them. The man turned then to the knights and called out to them. "These people are harmless to you! Clearly, they live humbly and wish to continue doing so. They would not pursue you were you all to leave now and leave them in peace!"
The knights began to raise a ruckus among their ranks when one of the infantry stepped up to the man. He spoke with conviction, "You side with them? You choose to side against God?", at which point he drew his sword and pointed it at the man. The knight continued "You can kneel before us and share the fate of these pagans, but we will grant you the mercy of a swift death since you did not inflict harm on any of us."

It dawned on the man that his fears congealed into reality. That where he awoke was indeed the remnants of mass murder. His eyes wide with horror as his gaze flashed to all sides. turning and seeing the destruction wrought by these people. All in the name of "God". Impossible, never would the Father ever endorse such mindless massacre in his name for such arbitrary reasons. Surrounding him were warriors all with uniform cloth over their armor which bore crucifixes as their shields did. The symbol of the holy son of the Father. It was perverse, it was evil, and the man would not let them continue their rampage. The man readied in the same stance he took against the two in the pit and his mind fixed on his next goal. Sparing these people a meaningless death.

"All of you will go now or suffer greatly", said the man ready for combat.
The knight with the sword at the man's chest did not utter another word, but instead took this as a queue for his killing stroke. Except he was met with that same ferocity at that pit of death. His body sent tumbling back and his hest plate caved in from the impact. The man had only struck him with his palm. Similar effects took over as he struggled to breathe, the man knew this would be the best way to send a message of fear. A language he knew even these zealots would understand. Except he would now be shocked, for another came from the ranks to make an attempt to strike him, this time with a mace. The man would deftly avoid this crude strike and deliver the same fate suffered by the previous attacker. Then it began as another came, then another, and more of them. They began to leap at him heedless of what befell the others. Still, they could not best him. With every swipe and swing, they were met with a parry of a swift hand or their weapon meeting only empty space. Some in their fury even struck their own by accident. It was chaos and this man was at the center of it. He would continue to fight them all one at a time, but he heard a command over the harsh racket of attackers.

"Cleanse the pagans!", one of them cried out and the man saw that the rest of their forces would start the fighting again. He would not be able to stop them all just taking his time with each one to make a point, he would have to escalate his efforts to save the rest of them. Unexpectedly, his assailants were hurled by an unseen force. The man's hand extended with his palm open. he would apply the same force to foes far from him to throw them off course by what seemed to be his will alone. This worked in his favor, as everyone affected by this would look in the direction they felt the force. They all looked at the man, began to run at him while screaming for his demise. The man then spread his arms sending them back again. Soldiers falling on one another, surely injuring those behind them with sprains, concussive force, and some broken bones depending on the fall they withstood. Then, one soldier to slipped in close. Swinging his blade only to see a larger portion of it go flying as if it was never in one piece. This stunned the knight and caused him to gawk at the man. A red line of light emanated from the top of his wrist and ended in a point, like a blade. It shimmered, even in the daylight.
"Demon!", screamed the knight. "He is an accursed demon!", he continued in sheer fright.

The man seized this moment by making truth of this accusation by dissolving the ethereal weapon and taking the knight by his garb. He reeled him in and with almost appalling ease hurled the armored victim into the crowd. Then, he stood ready and manifested the crimson ethereal blade again, but this time for both arms. "I will take you all to your oblivion if you do not retreat!", he bellowed. His outburst was met with an eerie stillness from all sides. He could feel the apprehension in everyone on both sides, but he needed to press a little more. He then dashed at the nearest knights and took the offensive. He proceeded to cut and peel the armor off of other soldiers, which he would subsequently strike with great impact. This caused them to start fleeing as they became a scattered mess of soldiers dragging off their injured and uttering prayers of protection from the menace that made them so impotent. They could not be allowed to return, so the man took other knights near him and hurled them back at the other soldiers brutishly, like a giant throwing a tantrum.

"Go! Do not return!", the man grabbed another soldier and tossed, "You are all to never show your presence here again!". As he walked to another soldier he would toss another knight had rushed to the aid of his ally and he met the man's gaze through his slit helm. That deep red gaze penetrating him so readily that is seemed as if he were already skewered, his body expressing all the fear for him that his masked face could not. The man stood with his weapons formed and spoke, "Take him and go, or you will suffer". The knight thus took hold of his brother in arms and quickly made off with him as a panicked mutter escaped the helmet.

Once they were all but gone, he turned to the slack-jawed villagers and looked upon them with a somber face. "I apologize", said the man, "I could have done more if I knew of this sooner". He turned to leave when he a voice rang in his ears. "Please, stranger. Do not leave us yet", pleaded the voice, causing the man to turn and face the crowd. The speaker stepping forward to make himself known, it was the man he queried before. The man understood him and thus he remembered how to reply. Not questioning this unexpected clarity, he responded.

"I do not think it would be wise for me to stay", said the man somberly.

"No. Please stay." Pleaded the defender with this unearthly stranger. "We are grateful and you are an ally we are to treasure. Let us repay you."

The stranger being met with this gratitude felt so unexpected. He thought they would fear him as the others did and be wary, but this was not so even as he realized that he had not done away with his weapons. The afterthought causing them to disperse harmlessly as they spread out into what looked like many gentle embers. He stood before them almost clueless about what to do next. He looked over their sorrow laden faces and saw their fatigue. They fought hard and lost others. Maybe they saw him as a savior. But, he knew that may be the contrary. Maybe he was hunted? No, he would have been slain in his helpless state if that was the case. The situation boggled him, but he was now sure that he truly had nowhere else to go. It must have been exile. Exiled for his crimes against his own kind not unlike what those knights imparted onto these villagers. What right did he have to accept their gracious offer?

The man parted his lips to speak, but halted himself. He looked away with a pained expression and said after breaking eye contact "No. I am not worthy of it. I only did what needed to be done." The defender then approached him in haste, casting his blade off.

"You are. Who else would do this? You could've save yourself, or even attacked us, but you did not! You bestowed us with your aid and power. You must stay with us if only for a short time. Please!" The bearded defender protested.
He could not deny the villager's sound reasoning. He could take them all even more easily than that force of knights ever could, even with their numbers. But, he could not shake his misgivings about it. The man then came to a decision. "I will not stay with you today. I have a matter to meditate on and I must do it alone. I will return the following sunrise and I will see what more I could do for you all." He had never lied before. It was a feeling that left him with a tightness in his chest but he now saw the practicality in it. "That is why they do it.", he thought as the epiphany came to him. With that he wanted to turn and leave, but a hand latched tightly to the crook of his arm. The defender standing by him now, with more to say.

The villager spoke softly "Return soon. Tell me, what do you call yourself, young man? I want others to know of when you come back to us."

Silence blossomed as the man turned to the defender. He was about to lie again out of fear, but guilt overtook him. The least he could do was answer him honestly this time since he did not intend to keep his promise. They could hold on to his name and with that the deed he did for them. Maybe he could leave one positive trace of his existence here before he disappears for good. "Krux. My name is Krux, sir", he said softly. The sound of his name caused the defender to loosen his grip and he slipped away gently with a single easy movement of his body.

With that, Krux turned and walked away silently. The ragged cloth hanging from his suit flowing like battle worn banners.