In Shades of Black and Gray (DISCONTUINED)

there's no turning back

16 Years Ago

Rain fell in great sheets like it too was weeping over the events unfolding. The dying words of hopeless men and women were but a murmur compared to the sound of rushing blood that filled Wu Daiyus's ears as she instinctively reached down to her side, searching for a weapon that was no longer there. With gritted teeth bared like a wild animal, Daiyu took a step back, trying to discretely lead away the people who had brought down such misery. A part of her wanted to believe she was doing this in order to save those whose wounds were nonlethal, to give them a chance to run, but that voice in the back of her head, a twisted version of her own, whispered to her that she was a coward and that she was only doing this to buy herself more time. A truth only in part. Daiyu knew that there was no saving anyone here today, not even herself.

Even if she managed to evade death here today and escape, they would never stop hunting her. She would eventually be captured and given a traitor's death.

They had come upon them suddenly. An ambush, Daiyu concluded grimly, cringing at the sharp pain in her side, no doubt caused by the brutal kick she had received when the attack first began. No. Not an attack. Daiyu thought firmly, her throat tightening in rage. An attack would imply that they were enemy soldiers, with weapons to defend themselves and the ability to at least put up a fight. No. This was a slaughtering.

It was genocide.

Daiyu continued her silent retreat backward, every muscle in her body tight with tension. She shivered violently, partly from the icy rain and partly from exhaustion. They had been traveling almost nonstop for three days now in hopes of outrunning the ongoing carnage but seemed all their preservice had been for naught and now, the only thing to show for it was a scattering of lifeless bodies and a bitter taste that Daiyu couldn't get off her tongue, no matter how much rainwater trickled past her lips. Living as a rogue cultivator as well as an exorcist for hire, Daiyu always knew she would meet her end at the receiving end of a sword or in the clutches of some nameless beast. She had made her peace with that. What she had not made her peace with, however, was dying without a weapon in her hand, shivering like a child that had just awoken from a nightmare. It was humiliating and it made her skin itch in a way it never had before. A primal, visceral rage bubbled just beneath her skin and without a sound, Daiyu charged forward, dodging under the arching blade of her first opponent, her feet slipping on the slimy mud.

With all the ease of a trained fighter, Daiyu swiftly shot to her feet and brought her elbow down upon the nape of the attacker's neck. He slumped to the ground, stunned, his sword sliding from his fingers and into the blood-soaked muck. While Daiyu made have appeared frail, with her pale, almost sickly complexion and her thin limbs, she had trained all her life and knew just where to strike to incapacitate an opponent. What she lacked in muscle mass she more than made up for in agility.

The sword was heavier in her hands than what she was accustomed to but she wielded it skillfully regardless, striking out at the nearest cultivator, who hardly had time to react as he hastily brought his sword up to parry her blow. The sound of screeching metal pierced the air as Daiyu swiftly jumped back, the returning blow of her assailant just barely missing her face. She could have sworn she saw her own bloodstained expression in the glimmering metal.

A rumble of thunder cracked through the air and was quickly followed by a flash of lightning. The storm was getting worse and soon, the visibility would worsen and Daiyu would be left to rely on only her hearing to aid her in her desperate fight for survival. The rain had long ago soaked through her clothing, leaving her robes tightly stuck to her body. She must look pathetic, she thought bitterly, her eyes narrowing as she barely dodged a jab from the enemy cultivator. Half drowned and half-crazed with desperation. With a snarl, Daiyu swung the sword in a savage arch toward her assailant. Dark blood bubbled from the gash in his neck. He fell to the ground, his dying words nothing more than a wet gurgle. Daiyu hardly glanced at him as she lept over his motionless body, all but flinging herself at the next cultivator, who looked ready to drop his weapon and flee. Daiyu didn't give him the chance.

As his body slumped to the ground, Daiyu paused, her shoulders hunched from the rain. The remaining cultivators shuffled uneasily, disturbed by her brutality. Daiyu resisted the urge to spit in their direction.

Brutality.

If they thought this display was brutal, then they had much to learn of human nature. And of human rage.

Daiyu brandished the sword wildly, using the deadly weapon to gesture at the carnage.

"Tell me, oh righteous cultivators. Are you satisfied now? Does my desperation not entertain you?" Daiyu laughed, the sound coming out half-hysterical even to her own ears. "I wonder what you tell yourselves at night. Because there's certainly no way it's the truth. How could you rest soundly if it was?"

Daiyu gritted her teeth harshly, mostly to stop herself from sobbing.

"History will remember you. Of this I am certain. And you will not be the heroes of the stories. You won't be the saviors. You will be remembered as the dogs who died impaled upon a stolen blade."

Daiyu raised the sword, the point aimed directly at the three remaining cultivators. She glared down the length of the blade, her gray eyes alight with the occasional flash of lighting.

"Now, come. And face your deaths with honor."