I wrote this yesterday. I'm not sure if it's finished. I might write an alternate ending. I will continue to still leave this one up though. This story is an extension off my 2nd post here and my 1st story, the character mapping. The only reference to that other story is, "a blade unlike his others" so this story is still very coherent without having read the other.

Corruption and Bravery

                Fury unsheathed, fire erupting within, he races toward the beacon's gate — his fingers wrapped around a glimmering blade, a blade unlike his others. Mud whips beneath his feet, his body blitzing through the stormy air, his face wrinkled from a seething anger. A great thunder can be heard crashing throughout the grey sky; lightning approaches the beacon.

                These conditions do not deter him in the least. They're nonexistent. Only the beacon's gate and those who dwell beyond it interest him; his focus begging for the sight of those monsters — those opal white shells that envelop their sludgy souls; eyes that invite the naive but enrage the focused; a gait that tantalizes the educated.

                His grip tightens as he readies himself. Pouncing upon the gate, climbing its many-pillar design, he leaps to the miry earth before the beacon. A smile envelops the darkness. 

                "Finally here." he remarks.

                Only a few men remain outdoors, the rest holed up, barricaded from his fury. They stare wide-eyed, fear-stricken. Their hands tremble while loosely gripping rusted daggers. He approaches, grip tight, and mouth curved. The sky bellows one last time. 

                "Time to end this little game. I've got you cornered and if you think you're cutting me with those pitiful knives, you've got another thing coming!"

                And right as he exhales these last words his feet dig into the muddy earth, like an engine revving its turbines, and leaps to their place. His first swing is that of a lightning strike, cleaving straight through the man's body, leaving him split in two. Blood pools out and while the other two are left paralysed in fear from this horrifying sight, he pounces toward them and begins twirling like a dreidel, forming a windmill fashioned attack. Once they notice, however, it's too late. The rotating blade digs into their flesh, ripping apart every nerve and vein inhabiting them. The air dyes red and his eyes begin to blaze with an even fiercer determination. 

                "I can do this!" he shouts and cackles.

                "Come on! Stand before me and accept your fate!"

                The air is still. Not a door opens. He realizes their fear and reproaches them further.

                "I slaughter your guardians and your answer is hiding behind some oak? Do you think you're going to escape your destiny!? You're all going to die but at least you could die with some fucking dignity!"

                 Toward the East a door slowly croaks open and a boy no older than 5 steps out. His blonde, curly hair whips about the windy sky while he puts on a face that screams bravery and heroism. The wood beneath leaves his presence as he leaps from the balcony and toward the charlatan. A mother runs out in tears, screaming for his return. It's too late. The boy's leap delivers him to the muddy earth, toward a fate that all know will leave him bloody and warped. The boy, at the tender age of 5, does not acknowledge such a fate. The boy only recognizes what must be done. The boy understands. His wisdom surpassing even the elders. This barbarian must be stopped. The boy reaches behind his trousers and pulls out a dagger, uttering only a few words in return to this barbarian's mocking expression.

                "The same blade he cherished will also avenge him. Father, watch over me." 

                Sneering in return, feet revving, and hands tightened about his blood-stained blade, the barbarian charges at the boy and swings.