Somewhere far, far away.
Wymar angrily swung his giant sword at the speed of sound, cleaving off another sparing partner within the training grounds of their castle as several previous mutilated partners lay strewn across the floor, bleeding and torn in a horrific visage.
The training ground was located deep within the mountain fortress, far below the main keep and down a labyrinth of underground corridors, which had a dozen patrolling knights who rarely spoke to one another unless it was the will of the dark lord himself.
As he stood victorious over his slain men, where the entire empty room made of black stone along torches spread out to lighten up the place as it was filled with the lifeless bodies of fallen knights, he kicked the recent body in pure anger, "Ulric shouldn't have killed him!" Yelling to himself in a fit of rage
In all those years, he had finally found a potential worthy opponent—humans in all places that would put up a good fight. Seeing Ulric have to kill such a skilled adversary brought nothing but disgust to his heart. "If I had intervened then..." Guan Yu would have lived to fight for another day.
Just by the look of that man, he can tell he's more than just a regular soldier; he has the aura of a veteran warrior who has seen countless battles and experienced life and death many times, with countless victories that were too many to count, but now they're all gone.
Screaming in frustration, he punched a nearby wall with all his might, creating a massive dent through the thick layer of stones that instantly destroyed it, causing dust and debris to fall all over shortly as it slowly dissipated into thin air.
Laughing mockingly at the sight, he wiped off the dust on his shoulder and stood tall with firm determination. "That fool had already died," a relief sigh came out from the towering knight, standing here in solitude, "yet at what cost? The loss of a worthy challenger," voice filled with regret and sadness, he lowered his head with closed eyes. "I could have seen you grow to be mightier than any of us combined, but now...it's all for nothing."
After so many centuries of fighting, no warrior has ever given him this amount of respect for someone. The human he saw that day was certainly worthy of his praise and acknowledgement. "Even with that fool's blade stabbing through his stomach, he still managed to stand up and fight," having not forgotten the human's determination.
Pulling back his hand, he turned around and scanned his fallen sparing partners, all easily dead and worthless to fight an experienced crimson knight such as himself. He can't believe his willingness to put himself in the shoes of these weaklings.
"These fighters stood no choice," despite all of their strength and endurance. Wymar has the longest time fighting out of them all and has mastered every form of swordsmanship there is. That's why he is the trusted general of the dark lord and the most deadly among his brothers.
He spent almost a thousand years honing his skills and surpassed his limits, growing stronger and tougher until no challenge was worthy enough for him to face. It's a sad thing to be unable to find something worth fighting for, but at least he still has hope left.
"While the old man is dead, his group, however, may pose a challenge." Aside from Guan Yu, the two children can give him the worthy fight he has long desired, excluding the witch, who is nothing more than a pathetic human who resorts to cheap tricks. "Magicians are always the lowest among humans."
The most despised among his brothers were anyone aside from their dark master, those who practiced magic, such a dishonorable way of fighting without getting close to fighting. It is a good thing their armors almost protect them from all sorts of magical attacks, but in reality, they aren't capable of protecting them from manifested attacks.
"If I ever see her, I'll make sure to take her out first." He doesn't want to see wizards and witches in his thirst for combat; it is not a place for them to play; "the mere thought of them brings hatred in my heart," despising humans who wield magic with strong prejudice.
Then loud knocks echoed within the training room, indicating his presence in the voluminous space of this place, "enter," commanding his visitor to show themselves, and they did, opening the double metal door to reveal no one other than his hired assassin and acquaintance.
"Ah," the tone of his voice changed to more content, "my little red riding hood, it is good to see you," speaking with gentle affection to the assassin as she approached him, "tell me, have you slain them?" Displaying an air of patience and comfort.
Kneeling with one knee to the ground and her head bowed down, "General Wymar, I failed to kill them," she openly confessed to her shameful failure with her head down. "It was my own doing for letting my confidence get the better of me," said her own admission.
Standing in front of the kneeling teen, Wymar looked down at the child with silence, studying her body language and gestures, all of which seem to suggest that she is being sincere. Her posture was always convinced and undying, but something else was at hand.
"Raise your head," ordering his hired killer, she obeyed without hesitation as she lifted her head, revealing her cute innocent face as a result. Her scarlet eyes contrasted with her white hair, while her red cloak still hung on her back. Yet her once constant wicked smile was gone.
Replaced with uncertainty and doubt that he managed to catch, "Tell me how it happened," inquiring the details of the incident with utmost interest, "were there any complications?" He demanded that she describe what occurred during her mission.
She replied with no pause, "I was defeated by the hands of a blond boy and his long-haired companion," saying it as if it were the most disgraceful experience of her life, "it was by no fault of my own when the two of them managed to work together in successfully beating me back," trying to justify herself, "if it weren't for the other one."
The general was mad at her at first for this failure, having expected her to always succeed in finishing the job. However, he was rather intrigued by her mention of another person in her mission. "Another person?" he asked, curiously needing more information regarding it.
Rose hesitantly nodded her head. "Yes, he was a coward and someone who I have no difficulty killing, but..." looking away while gripping her cape in frustration, "That boy decided to spare my life." Her words were filled with a mixture of unknown emotions.
"Spared...your life?" He felt so much disgust upon hearing this: "They didn't kill you?" Wymar wanted to get to the bottom of this: "Even when you attacked them out of nowhere for your selfish reason, they decided not to end it when they had a chance," becoming more angry by the second.
Averting her eyes from him, she says, "Not really; the two teens I referred to were already keen on killing me, but the one who showed mercy was different," sounding unsure of her own words. "His different from most of the people I killed; it's as if he's not vengeful compared to the rest I have murdered previously," she says in honest observation.
Her employer didn't take this well: "A coward is still a coward," gritting his teeth in hatred of the act; "only fools follow the teachings of martyrs, and it is weakness," scolding her own ignorance; "either he's too kind or naive, and that makes me sick," shaking his head in disapproval.
But Rose could only stay silent, unable to say anything more than listen word for word from her superior, hoping she wouldn't get punished as her eyes gazed around the scattered corpses of previous crimson knights that wanted to challenge him.
Their bodies were all mangled beyond recognition; all she could see was how brutally they were cut, stabbed, and ripped apart, resulting in her flinching slightly when her superior kicked the dead knight at the side and said, "Leave me to my own devices!" His loud and booming voice echoed through the training room: "Go before I tear you limb to limb!" The madness in the air began to grow more apparent.
Threats were unspoken but very well understood. Rose nodded her head without another word, immediately stood up, and hastily walked away, leaving the room in a quick manner as the door finally closed behind her.
Catching her breath, Rose stared at the long, dark hallway with uncertainty. "I got away alive this time, but next time, I don't think I'll be that lucky again," she said in a solemn manner while thinking back to the boy who showed her kindness.
As she allowed her back to lean onto the door, she contemplated how, in all her life, no one aside from her grandma had ever done something this nice for once. Rose didn't know how to react to all of this, feeling somewhat grateful yet at the same time stressed. "This is frustrating." Taking out a knife from her pocket, she looks down at the reflection of her blade.
It doesn't feel right for someone like her to have second thoughts or doubt, especially when she's usually good at what she does; going into missions and slaying enemies without hesitation is what made her famous among others.
Name they fear, little red riding hood; infamous assassin who has no compassion or love for the lives of people, merciless and willing to kill whoever gets in her way for the right price. Her reputation is one of the most prominent and highest among the hundreds of assassins in the entire land.
Now she is feeling something foreign, a human emotion she doesn't want to try to think about after selling her humanity for power. Its unfair to be reminded of her past self despite how much she wants to forget it all. "Am I...starting to appreciate him?"
She feels wrong on many levels; she shouldn't have positive emotions of any kind; the fact that a person who's supposed to be her target saved her life should be easy to accept, yet it isn't. "How can he even live with himself knowing he has saved the life of an assassin?" Something she can't fathom nor understand the reason behind it.
Was it because of his kindness? No, that can't be right. He likely wanted to manipulate or fight her when the opportunity arose, but the look of his fearful display reflected some honesty in what he said, and apparently she does not seem to be a good liar like herself either.
Tightly holding her knife, "doesn't matter how stupid he is, I swear to myself I'll kill him when we next meet," whispering to her own reassurance, "I won't hold back anymore," promising to kill the boy who had shown mercy to the like of her.
Just by remembering him, his timid demeanor and voice is annoying to be reminded off. "What's worse is how much he reminds me of the time I was human," she says, tightening the grip of her blade. All the memories and regrets that are starting to flood through her mind: "Everything was good, and I was happy." Until that time...
Tears made of blood suddenly streamed down from her eyes, baring her razor teeth with rage at having to be forced to feel some kind of human emotion in all these years. "I am going to enjoy ending his life," as she forced an evil grin in this declaration. Part of her was uncertain if she should go along with this.
Because no matter how much she wanted to deny her humanity, the memories of her being human are still there—being a naive child with a kind grandmother who cares for her. Those innocent days were filled with bliss and joy before everything went south.
Slowly wiping off the tears from her cheeks, she smiled in satisfaction, "Well then, maybe I'll kill everyone first before him," laughing innocently at the idea with menacing glee, "they will be perfect training dummies; just imagine how much fun it will be," picturing the scene of them dozens of times in seeing how their blood would spray and paint the whole place.
