by Johnny Foxx
A legendary monster slayer saves three kids from a group of hungry beasts.
|The shrill screams of the three children pierced the silence of the dark night as they ran through the mostly empty streets. “This way!” One cried as they came to an alleyway, hoping to lose their pursuers. They all darted into the alley, only to find it was a dead end. They turned to see their escape blocked by three menacing figures, each one at least nine feet tall and covered in thick, dark fur, their lips pulled back in an evil grin to reveal rows of wickedly sharp teeth.
With no other options, the three children dropped onto their knees and begged the beasts for mercy. But the three werewolves simply laughed at their pathetic pleas. “”We’re in luck, boys!” said the head of the group “There’s one for each of us!” “I call the girl!” Said the second, grabbing the young female by the back of her shirt and hoisting her into the air, her legs dangling and kicking feebly.
“The monster slid his long, wet tongue across he face, savoring her taste as she burst into tears, knowing she was about to meet her doom in this monstrosity’s belly. The beast slowly, mockingly moved her towards his gaping maw, his foul breath blasting her face like a rancid wind. The monster’s companions watched their friend as he toyed with his prey, chuckling at the girl’s tears and whimpers of fear.
As this was happening, they failed to notice the mysterious figure standing on the roof of an adjacent building overlooking the alley. Silent as a shadow, the figure jumped from the roof onto the ground below, only feet behind the three lycans. Drawing his blade, the figure suddenly dashed forward like lightning, slicing the first werewolf’s legs off just below the knees.
The beast let out a scream of half pain and half surprise as he suddenly found himself falling to the side like a cut down tree as his legs fell out from beneath him. His cry was suddenly cut short as the figure jammed his blade into the beast’s open mouth, silencing him once and for all.
Upon hearing their friend’s scream, the two remaining beasts turned to see the figure pulling his sword from their mate’s throat, the third one dropping his intended meal to the ground and charging to rip the strange newcomer to pieces, only for the figure to grab drop a spherical object on the ground which instantly created a cloud of thick smoke.
The monsters couldn’t see an inch in front of their noses through the fog, and began swiping wildly with their claws at the air, in hopes of striking their assailant. The second werewolf then found himself grasping his stomach as he felt a sharp, cutting pain across it and his guts falling from the wound. Falling to his knees, hee could just barely make out the silhouette of a humanoid figure in front of him before there was a slash across his throat, and his head fell from his shoulders.
The last werewolf became overwhelmed by the scent of the blood of his comrades, and began to feel a twinge of fear race of his spine. In his last moments, his brain recalled stories he had heard as a young cub, of a human that hunted monsters like his kind. He had always thought they were just stories monsters would tell their children to get them to behave. But could they really have been true all along? These were his final thoughts as he felt to feet suddenly land on his shoulders and a brief, piercing pain and the point of a blade was plunged into his skull and impaling his brain. Then he knew no more.
By now, the smoke had cleared and the figure jumped back into the ground in front of the three children he had just saved. Only now did the get a good look at him. His appearance almost reminded them of a ninja, dressed all in black in a tight fitting suit with flexible plates of metal covering the torso and arms, and a headband emblazoned with a symbol of the outline of a skull with a W on the forehead. His face was covered from his chin to just below the eyes with a fierce mask, akin to a samurai.
On his back was a sheath for the sword he held in his hand which resembled a katana, now dripping with werewolf blood, as well as a collapsible bow and quiver of arrows. Despite never having seen the figure before, the children knew who he was. He was known across the globe as The Wrath, a slayer of monsters and protector and avenger to humanity.
Shaking the blood from his weapon, the Wrath sheathed his sword and spoke with a gruff, intimidating voice. “You are safe for now. Go home before more come.” The children looked at each other, then at their savior before the oldest of the three said “But…we have no home. We escaped from an orphanage and we’re chased by those beasts.”
At these words, the Wrath’s eyes almost seemed to soften for a brief moment. “Come with me. I know a place where you will be safe.”
So begins the story of the Wrath. But just who is this mysterious slayer of monsters? Where did he come from? The answer to these questions and more are sure to be revealed in future installments, until then, thanks for reading!