서른다섯

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Seoreundaseot

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Seoreundaseot

thirty-five

*WARNING: Graphic depiction of battle, language, unedited/unbeta'ed*





A sickening crunch sounded and a wail of tortuous agony followed. The sharp blade of a spear was shoved forward, impaling the body in front of it. The metallic smell of blood mingled with sweat, body odor and the stench of death as it claimed the lives of many; bodies strewn carelessly. Pulling back his bow, he fired an arrow striking two men nearest him. Grabbing a cast aside spear, he grit his teeth and lifted the heavy weighted weapon just as a fiercely riding man came towards him, having drawn back an arrow. He fired just before he was impaled, blood gushing violently from his mouth. The arrow struck him in the shoulder making him fall on his back.

"Pyeha!" Grunting, he rolled on his side, reaching up to snap the arrow in half.

"Son of a bitch!" He snarled, puncturing the ankle of one above him. The man screamed, turning to glance down at his assailant.

"Pretty faced bastard! I'll skin you alive!" The man retorted in a foreign tongue, his breathing haggard as he lifted his bow, an arrow starting to be pulled back. Quick on his feet, he shot up and tackled the man before he could finish drawing. Pain felt warm and wet like a pleasant summer rain, sharp and brutal like the prick of a thousand needles down his side. The man lifted a thick heavy fist, attempting to strike him but he blocked it, instead used the fingers of his free hand to dig into the nearest thing to him. His eye. Throwing his arm away from him, he grabbed hold of his face and dug his nails, dirty with dirt and blood into his eyes, forcing his thumbs deeper into the sockets. The man thrashed around, wailing as though he was a newborn. Blood coated his digits and the soft ruptured cushiness of his destroyed oculus deterred him not.

"Brother Sekhemrekhutawy! Behind you!" Letting go of the man's head, he turned to face a blade, sharp and waiting to taste his flesh. His eyes were cold and beady, his sneer complemented by black rotting teeth.

"Stand up Prince of Goryeo." He moved not, just lifted his gaze from the blade to the man's face. At his insolence, the man jut the blade outward, piercing the thin tempting flesh of his neck and forced his head upward. Laughing, the man took in this prince. Weak he was not. Even in the face of death he showed no fear. He'd enjoy this kill.

"Stand up." To his displeasure the man now with twin streams of blood trailing down his face spoke, voice gruff and full of agony.

"He says to stand pretty face bastard. He shall cut you into pieces before your King." Admitting shock to hear the tongue of Goryeo from his lips would never happen but it send a trickle through his belly. Slowly, he stood, gritting his teeth at the pain that saturated his entire side. He kept his face carefully stoic despite the hot and cold chills that now seemed to attack his body, the arrow that pierced him standing out from his body almost proudly as if to say 'here I have claimed him, your prize'. Pleased in the life force still found in his comrade he grinned.

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