Ten Thousand Days [Completed]

[Anski]

To the rhythm of a time bomb ticking away,

And the blare of the sirens combing the streets.

Chased down like dogs we run from,

Your grasp until the sun comes up.



We crawl on our knees for you,

Under a sky no longer blue,

We sweat all day long for you.

But we sow seeds to see us through,

'Cause sometimes dreams just don't come true.

Look now, at what they've done to you.



White needles buried in the red,

The engine roars and then it gives,

But never dies,

'Cause we don't live,

We just survive,

On the scraps that you throw away.

Chapter XVI: Re-Education Through Labor

'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players:
they have their exits and their entrances;
and one man in his time plays many parts,
his acts being seven ages.'
- William Shakespeare, English Playwright, Poet

The Night.

The two blades pulled off of one another. In an resolvent furor, Navren slid back in the dirt and the two watched each other.

"Give it up, Hunter. You could walk away with your life." The Stranger said, the inhuman grin on his mutating face.

"Not without your corpse slung over my shoulder." Navren growled, his moustachops vibrating with his speech. The Stranger launched forward and Navren drew up the warglaives, which were promptly knocked out of his hands. The Demon Hunter had no strength, while the Demon took it all in. Navren rolled out of the way, weaponless, standing in the sickening mixture of dirt and blood that was pooled all around. The demon took in strength, his blood pulsating. He spun, facing Navren, teeth bared in a vicious manner. The Demon Hunter punched his bare fist into the ground and from it the strength of the demon pulsated into his veins. When he was sated, he withdrew, and the two charged men stood, face to face, shoulders hunched and their breathing heavy. Navren took to ran, and the Stranger followed. With every step, excess energy of the demon was being absorbed by his foot. Navren leapt from the gate of the Forge camp, as Karana and the soldiers watched on. His blood soaked feet landed in the sand, clotting and clustering underfoot. The man who had lived for ten thousand years ran, far from the camp. The Stranger followed relentlessly, and Navren quickly turned, still weaponless, and swung his fist at the following hunter. Karak took the punch to the face, spinning out and landing in the sand. Viciously, he stood up and tosses his glaives aside, leveling ground. He flayed his fingertip claws at Navren, who beat his hand away with a blunt fist. He reared back, and as his fist flew forward, it caught into a vicious green flame, in which the Stranger grabbed his arm and drew the fire from him onto himself.

Navren quickly extinguished himself, and ripped his arm free. He pulled up his knee, leg folded in, and horse kicked the Stranger, who slid back in the dirt, grinning. He launched himself forward and Navren took to the side, pushing him away. The Stranger vaulted forward again, and Navren lashed out his arms to grab the shoulders of the man and swing his knee up to the stomach of the post demon hunter. It connected, but the weight on the other side was solid. The Stranger pushed himself away, and brought down the claw. It slashed across Navren's face, and the Demon Hunter withdrew, one hand clenched to his face. Blood poured down it as the Stranger launched himself forward. Navren sidestepped, cautious. The Stranger vaulted again, and Navren once again stepped to the side. In a fit of anger, the Stranger lashed out once more, and Navren took the time to deck him in the jaw with a closed fist. The Stranger stumbled backwards, growling. He vaulted forward, and Navren swung again. A vicious uppercut took the Stranger, his hand on fire, knocking him back. Navren leapt over the fumbled demon and grabbed his two warglaives the Stranger had dropped. The Stranger, clearly low on power, took off running for the Forge camp. Navren turned and threw one of the spinning warglaives at the Stranger, piercing it through his leg and sticking him to the ground. Navren ran and leapt to pounce on him, but the Stranger just ripped it out of his leg and kept running, at less of a full sprint. Navren bolstered forward when he landed, and as he got close enough, the Stranger turned and the two clashed blades. The Stranger was the first to falter under the weight, scrambling back.

"Grah! You cannot stop me, hunter!" He snarled, and took off running before Navren could speak to the camp. Navren gave chase, his tattoo pulsing with energy. He spun and threw the glaive again, but it spiraled off and missed on account of wind. The Demon Hunter kept chasing the Demon, as the mutated beast gained ground and was reaching the Forge camp. Navren's teeth began to grit and he roared out, leaping from his position and slamming the Demon on the back just as he reached the Forge gate. However, he was far too slow, as the both of them slid in the excess amounts of blood and dirt strewn everywhere. The Stranger immediately began to draw in the energy from the blood, and it was only seconds before he sprung up and Navren went flying off into the dirt behind. The Stranger turned, stepping out with heavy, broad steps to the Demon Hunter, grabbing him by the throat and picking him up. Navren grabbed his wrist, as the Stranger lifted him into the air. He scrambled, but it was useless as the Stranger applied pressure, the sickening grin on his face becoming all Navren could see. Navren stopped his struggling, though, and relaxed all the muscles in his body. He closed his eyes and it was moments before the Stranger threw him into the camp, slamming into a stone. Navren sprung up, however, running through the coldening remains of the Commander, grabbing his glaives and spearing the Stranger in the back. Blood sprayed from both sides as it cried out in anger. Navren pulled his glaives back and flipped backwards, landing in the crimson mush.

The Stranger turned. Bleeding profusely from his midsection, he punched both of his fists into the ground, and the blood pooling in the area drew inward. Navren charged him and sliced both of his arms wide open with the glaives, leaping backwards. The Stranger cried out and moved position, hitting the ground again. Navren ran forward, and the Stranger broke the ritual to bat him away. He slammed his hand into the dirt again, so Navren threw his warglaive at him, slicing his back open. The Stranger continued drawing in energy, and Navren simply leapt into the air, landed on his back and sliced the warglaive through the back of the neck. He twisted it as the Demon fell, and sliced his head clean off. The tension wore down. He was standing alone in the evacuated camp, the silence only carried by the sound of the wind. Beneath him, both of the men drenched in blood, was the former shell of a demon hunter Karana had trained. Navren felt cold, as the blood on him was touched by wind and not heated by his adrenaline. Navren stepped off of the body, looking around. After a few minutes, a few figures walked up the path to the Forge camp. Karana and the Brotherhood of the Afterlife were standing there, watching Navren. He stood, dripping in blood, in a pool of blood, next to a headless corpse that was dripping with blood.

"Congratulations, Navren. You've got the last ritual to perceive, and then you are your own agent. You have witnessed what will happen if you go rogue. I hope you understand this." Karana Nightstalker said to him, and Navren nodded.

"Yes... I understand completely. I do not need the power of the demon to do what I do." Navren said, and Karana nodded, watching. The Brotherhood was silent, all watching and looking around in awe.

"Please complete the final ritual. Exhume the remaining spirit from your body." Karana instructed, and Navren nodded.

Navren pulled out the dagger that had tattooed him, that had blinded and restored his sight, and had changed him forever. He rolled the remains of the Stranger over, and carefully sliced the chest open, breaking the chestbone with a heavy handed punch as he got to it. Once the ribs were sprung open, he grabbed the heart and simply ripped it out, blood dripping onto his already blood soaked skirt. He stood, walked over to the tallest stone. Navren climbed upward, and standing atop the blood stained rock, he held back his head and drank the corrupted blood pouring from the heart. Immediately, he collapsed, without violent warning nor indication. When Navren awoke, he felt stronger. Immediately, there was no weakness or exhaustion in him. He pushed himself off of the ground he had fallen to, looking around. Nobody was there. He looked up on the ridge tops, the horizon, nothing. Picking up his warglaives and securing them on his back, Navren tightened the flag and shook his head. He was alone now, just as Karana wanted it. He was as he had always been, for the ten thousand years of his life.

Alone.

~