This isn't finished, but you can still comment and critique (actually it's highly appreciated)
Prologue (Click to Show)
"Curses."
My mind was blank. My barriers are weakening. Nothing seems true. Everything is lost.
Sword on my right, and handle on my left. Hindering the bullets is my job, until today.
Until today.
My job as a bodyguard was swift. Protect the VIPs, kill the assassins.
People say it's a charming job, after all, a million bucks are a year's wage.
In a cash world, money is everything. Rules are broken in front of cash.
Everything can be gone, and everything can be bought.
It's a wonderful world, when you think of it.
Until today.
Now, my barriers are tired. People are striking on my left and right.
Magic, that has claimed thousands of soul, doesn't protect me.
It always seem easy to understand, for even a superhuman have it's limits.
Whistles are currently damp inside my ears, cowering the blows.
More men rushes in, each of them eager to taste blood in their blades.
I never thought, that there are saviors in the world. I done everything myself.
My life is full of lie. My road is full of blood. For my way is gray.
It is decided by my name, Ruben, to uphold a duty of a son.
Always prepared to die, I finally realized that I could die now.
I don't believe in miracles.
Before my life flashes in my eyes.
My mind was blank. My barriers are weakening. Nothing seems true. Everything is lost.
Sword on my right, and handle on my left. Hindering the bullets is my job, until today.
Until today.
My job as a bodyguard was swift. Protect the VIPs, kill the assassins.
People say it's a charming job, after all, a million bucks are a year's wage.
In a cash world, money is everything. Rules are broken in front of cash.
Everything can be gone, and everything can be bought.
It's a wonderful world, when you think of it.
Until today.
Now, my barriers are tired. People are striking on my left and right.
Magic, that has claimed thousands of soul, doesn't protect me.
It always seem easy to understand, for even a superhuman have it's limits.
Whistles are currently damp inside my ears, cowering the blows.
More men rushes in, each of them eager to taste blood in their blades.
I never thought, that there are saviors in the world. I done everything myself.
My life is full of lie. My road is full of blood. For my way is gray.
It is decided by my name, Ruben, to uphold a duty of a son.
Always prepared to die, I finally realized that I could die now.
I don't believe in miracles.
Before my life flashes in my eyes.
Chapter 1 (Click to Show)
"Ruben!", a voice, raking out the silence of the town.
The brown haired warrior, listening the voice, started to shift his attention.
Lay beside him was a man, a heartless man, clasping his chest.
He started to puff and swallow, as his heart stopped in a gesture.
Fate has already been sealed, for his beat has been crushed with a fist.
Walking slowly to the voice, he put back his scimitar, as he make a last turn to see the dead.
He humbly put his hand to the ground, as a sign of respect between warriors, threw a handful to the body.
Turning around, his face is stern, as he watched a figure stared to complain.
"Ruben, you know how people see you", complained the figure, washing her dishes.
She started to complain, as a little light, started to thoroughly shone the kitchen.
The dust is still there, the bed is ragged, and there is only 2, small windows made of cheap glass.
Lighting of the room started to flicker, and a cockroach started to fly across the room.
It's been 2 years they lived like that, ever since his father died.
The brown man smiled a little at the bug, and his smirk withered with the words punctured his mind.
He released his hefty scimitar, and spin it across the room, relieving the flying dust.
It's blade sparkled in the dust, as nothing can stop its dance.
"But, mother", as he face his mom ,"I'm a grown man now."
He started to nibble to a piece of leave, fresh breath leaving out his mouth.
"Yes you are, but you're not a human", she started to sniffle, remembering his husband.
"A half-giant you are, your body is ready, but still a teen", as she giving her son a look.
He started to move both of his hand into his chest, forming a cross.
A clear sign of his face has shown annoyance to his mother.
"You shouldn't kill that guy", she spoke, as her tears started to dry.
"And you always said, don't punch people", a tone of sarcasm entered Ruben, "You know they started it!"
A clank of glass hitting together was enough for Ruben to know, grief has entered his mother.
It has been 8-no, 10 years since his beloved father perished away, in a sea of blood.
He could still remember, the smell of wounded flesh pierced his mind.
And the cries of soldiers, women, and children, ripped his thought of glory in war.
Now he started to testify against it, know the despair that was left in it's quake.
He knows what to do. It's his birthday. And the memories of his father can't linger.
Hand straight, he formed the 2 finger stanza, the index finger and middle finger.
Creeping behind his mother, he thrust the gesture to her neck, stopping an artery to the brain.
She collapsed with a thud, sleeping like a princess, as he dragged his feet to the door.
He almost felt sorry to his annoying mother.
The brown haired warrior, listening the voice, started to shift his attention.
Lay beside him was a man, a heartless man, clasping his chest.
He started to puff and swallow, as his heart stopped in a gesture.
Fate has already been sealed, for his beat has been crushed with a fist.
Walking slowly to the voice, he put back his scimitar, as he make a last turn to see the dead.
He humbly put his hand to the ground, as a sign of respect between warriors, threw a handful to the body.
Turning around, his face is stern, as he watched a figure stared to complain.
"Ruben, you know how people see you", complained the figure, washing her dishes.
She started to complain, as a little light, started to thoroughly shone the kitchen.
The dust is still there, the bed is ragged, and there is only 2, small windows made of cheap glass.
Lighting of the room started to flicker, and a cockroach started to fly across the room.
It's been 2 years they lived like that, ever since his father died.
The brown man smiled a little at the bug, and his smirk withered with the words punctured his mind.
He released his hefty scimitar, and spin it across the room, relieving the flying dust.
It's blade sparkled in the dust, as nothing can stop its dance.
"But, mother", as he face his mom ,"I'm a grown man now."
He started to nibble to a piece of leave, fresh breath leaving out his mouth.
"Yes you are, but you're not a human", she started to sniffle, remembering his husband.
"A half-giant you are, your body is ready, but still a teen", as she giving her son a look.
He started to move both of his hand into his chest, forming a cross.
A clear sign of his face has shown annoyance to his mother.
"You shouldn't kill that guy", she spoke, as her tears started to dry.
"And you always said, don't punch people", a tone of sarcasm entered Ruben, "You know they started it!"
A clank of glass hitting together was enough for Ruben to know, grief has entered his mother.
It has been 8-no, 10 years since his beloved father perished away, in a sea of blood.
He could still remember, the smell of wounded flesh pierced his mind.
And the cries of soldiers, women, and children, ripped his thought of glory in war.
Now he started to testify against it, know the despair that was left in it's quake.
He knows what to do. It's his birthday. And the memories of his father can't linger.
Hand straight, he formed the 2 finger stanza, the index finger and middle finger.
Creeping behind his mother, he thrust the gesture to her neck, stopping an artery to the brain.
She collapsed with a thud, sleeping like a princess, as he dragged his feet to the door.
He almost felt sorry to his annoying mother.
Chapter 2 (Click to Show)
A gust of wind, threw a handful of dust to the air.
The desert
The desert