The child walked for what seemed like eternity. The only thing that kept him going as he walked was that familiar stinging sensation crawling up his neck to his face.
"I need to continue, it's exactly as he wished."
And so the child did, he strode into the town without a single discernable expression. Behind those bright yellow eyes burned anticipation, as he knew this town was looked after by the hearts.
"Gifted as we are to walk in life, so gifted as we are to lay in the arms of a comforting death."
The child began his slaughter, nobody could escape the piercing and horrific slashing of his honed Ahlspiess. Perhaps if it were a time when he had a family, maybe he would have shown quarter, or failed to kill. But not now, not as the bishop of death.
"GAAAGH! PLEASE, PLEASE STOP I HAVE A FAMILY!"
"And so did I, it changed nothing. All are the unwanted fleece on the world weighing it down, I simply chose to shear it."
*Shank*
The gore of the townsfolk crunched against his blade, yet it would not break, for his mission is not done. Every man, woman, and child. Peasant, knight, or royal.
"The suits must die."
Art by Vhereall, a good friend of mine.
