Chapter 3: Chapter 3 - Trouble in the Village, and The Numbers
"Shlick" The sound of the sharp arrow-like stick pricing into George's Father's neck sounded out. In the silence of the night, there was no scream or murmur, just the sound of a child taking the life of his father.
Blood gushed out of the Old Man's neck and dyed George's white cotton shirt a fresh, dark red color. "Step Step... Creak" The sound of footsteps sounded in the cottage, and then the door opening.
"Father, you have forced me to do so... Maybe when I die I will kneel and beg for forgiveness in the heavens, or hells!" Those were the last words that George addressed to his father as he started walking down the dirt road away from town.
In the middle of the night, the sole lonely figure of a boy who was dressed in red rags walked down the sole road out of town. Who knows what dangers he would find on his way.
"Ahhhhhh!" In the early hours of the morning before the bell had even begun to toll, the sound of a shriek woke everyone in the village up. "Marcy! What happened!" One of the farmers called out to his wife who was working in the fields outside of town.
"Ali! It's terrible! Old Man Nick is dead! He was stabbed in the neck quickly, get the guards!" The sound of a woman yelling to her husband, alerting the entire village to what had occurred.
"Stomp Stomp" The sound of heavy boots on the ground came as two guards covered in dirty, and rusty chainmail showed up. "Miss Marcy, how did the Old Fogey die?" One of the guards said, but he wish he could take back his words as he walked inside the old cottage, there he saw lying on an old bed, a man with white hair, and a beard who had a long stick of about twelve inches sticking out of his throat. Even worse, the stick went all the way through his throat, as if a monster with superhuman strength shoved it with all his strength.
"Call the Village Chief, where is the Bastard son! Go find him, his curse has struck again." One of the guards said, Ali quickly fumbled away to go to the Village Chief's house.
After about fifteen minutes, the sound of footsteps could be heard again, "Creak." the door was flung open "Slam" as it landed on the wall behind it. "Show me what happened." A man with brown hair and brown eyes came in. He wore a leather vest over a black cotton shirt, with brown pants, and boots.
He walked over to the Old Man's corpse, as he looked at the stick he all of the sudden said, "Oh god, no. It can't be." he fumbled over these words for a while before someone finally couldn't take it anymore. "Chief, what happened?" A guard asked with a confused expression all over his face.
"I saw Young George sharpening this stick yesterday morning, just before the Royal Envoy came to town, but it can't be. What child would kill his own Father, no matter how bad the abuse is!" The words that came out of the Chief's mouth shocked everyone around him, everyone knew that the Old Man did not treat his son well, and most even considered the child a demon due to the death of his mother, and now he had killed his father.
"I knew that shitty brat wasn't any good!" The other guard said through clenched teeth. "Stomp Stomp" The sound of running came from outside of the cottage, "Knock Knock" someone bashed on the door of the cottage. "Let them in," Said the Chief. "Creak" The door opened, a short guard in the same attire as the others stood there, he then said "Sir, we couldn't find the Old Man's son. He is nowhere in the village!"
'Huuh. George, I tried to protect you, but now I have a duty to bring justice to the Old Mans killer.' The Village Chief thought to himself as he let out a sigh. "Send a message to the nearest city, ask them to put out a bounty for a young boy named George. Make sure they know that he is dangerous, and has the ability to end someone's life!" These words shocked everyone, they thought that the VIllage Chief would at least make some effort to protect George, for everyone knew that he had kept George from getting kicked out of the town multiple times.
The bright and hot beating sun looked down upon a dirt road that led who knows where across a large grassy plain. In the center of that road, a young boy with clothes dyed in blood trudged through. The only thing keeping from collapsing was his willpower or his lack of will. He was but a zombie.
His love, taken from him. His family hated him. He was all alone. Nothing to keep him in this world, except a promise that may never even be fulfilled.
"Wait for me, after I turn eighteen I will come and find you!" The sound of Cylia's soft, and velvety voice echoed through his mind as he continued to walk down the dirt road. The scorching sun turning the ground into a hell.
"Clack, Clack, Clack" The sound of horses all the sudden entered George's ears, he could barely see all his energy had been used up. His throat was as parched as thatch, and his stomach rumbled like the fury of the nine heavens.
"Oi, Number 3 look at this brat." The sound of a raspy man's voice sounded out. All George could see was the faint figure of three horses, and three men ontop who each wore a black cloak to cover their bodies.
"What a pitiful boy. I should just put him out of his misery." As the man said that the sharp sound of a sword being pulled from its sheath entered George's ears.
'No I can't die, I have yet to see Cylia again!' As George thought this he finally obtained the willpower to utter "No...Kill...Me." These sudden words caused the three men in cloaks to be slightly amazed.
"Number 2, looks like this brat has guts." The one called Number 3 called out to the other man on horseback on the otherwise of their formation that was shaped like ^. (AN: Triangle Formation)
"Hmph. I guess he does. Number 1, doesn't the Palace Master want us to bring in a few new recruits? Why not take this brat with us, looks like he has been in a fight." Number 2 said as he looked at the man in the center of the formation. Number 3, and 2 didn't speak until finally, the man called Number 1 said "Hoh... I agree let's take him. His eyes are lifeless, it already looks like he has nothing left."
"Let's give him a purpose, the purpose to wash the world with blood. Listen, boy, you will suffer the most you have in your entire life, and if you die no one will even bat an eye. You are but a tool. Do you understand?" The man said his voice echoed through George's brain.
"...Yes..."
"Good, Number 3 pick him up. Boy, what is your name?" After the man's order Number 3 hopped off of his horse and picked George up.
"George..." He finally managed to squeak out his name.
"Wrong boy, you have no name, you are nothing under heaven, you are but a tool, do not forget that. You have no name, you do not exist in this world, you will not be in history, and your destiny is to either kill or be killed. Do you understand?"
George only had the energy to nod, as his lifeless eyes looked at the three men, he felt that he finally had a purpose, even though he had no idea what hell he had just gotten himself into.
"Good, let's go!" The men turned their horses around and started heading down the road.
"Clack Clack Clack..."
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
LiLBoyHatake
LiLBoyHatake Thanks for reading this chapter.
After this chapter, you can consider that this novel has officially begun!
Leave comments/suggestions / feel free to vote it helps!
Anyways I wrote this chapter on 6/10/20, with a total of 1346 words!
Warning: The next few chapters will be disturbing, there will be violence, gore, and even cannibalism. So tread carefully!
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