The scorching heat on the back of his neck burns his exposed flesh. His parched mouth has not tasted water nor food in days. Head bowed down, he can smell the stench of a thousand dead, brutally slayed all around him as the silent wind whistles the song of the deceased. A single shining drop of sweat trickles down his nose onto the ground where his bare feet can feel the burning sand beneath. He knows he is the last one. He knows he will die. But an odd sense of peace overwhelms him sending a shiver down his spine. He knows what he must do for he has nothing to lose.
He looks up to see an army in the horizon, hungry ravaging millions, ruthless and merciless, waiting to shred any life form, forming a vast infinite line of destruction. The scorching sun glistening off their shiny swords.
His mind body and soul are in perfect coordination as his legs push him into a sprint carrying him across the valley into the open arms of doom. He can feel the rush of wind cutting across his blood-streaked face and the battle-cry from the enemy echoing all around.
His shining sword swiftly cutting through flesh and bones, with the cries of the fallen muffled only by his tireless footsteps. He doesn't feel any pain, as a billions blades criss cross his skin. With movements as swift as lightning, he mercilessly strikes all that comes in contact. There is just a whirlwind of colors and screams, blood and spit, death and destruction as nameless faceless people fall to their knees.
With rage beyond measure coursing through him, insanity and pain become his weapons as his booming roars are heard for miles around instilling fear into the hearts of even the mightiest warriors.
A single deadening moment of silence echoes across the plains as a jagged blade smoothly penetrates his back into his thumping heart. A slow smile of contentment spreads across his weather-beaten, war-torn face. A swift slash and the enemy stands no more...there is no one left to slay...
His body can't take the weight as his knees buckle and he crumbles to the ground, enjoying the ghostly silence.
The smile of purpose doesn't leave his face even after life has...
