12# The Price of Survival

The smell of iron burned my nostrils.

The blade trembled in my hands. Every breath weighed tons, as if the very world was trying to crush my chest. Darius stood a few steps behind, arms crossed, gaze unshakable.

— "Kill them all. The soldiers. The merchants." — His voice sounded so natural, as if he was asking me to gather firewood.

I looked ahead.

Four soldiers. Two merchants. All armed, laughing… chatting… completely oblivious to the fact that these were the last minutes of their lives.

My legs wouldn't move. My hands were sweating so much the sword almost slipped. My mind screamed against me. "I'm not this… I can't… I…"

But then…

It came.

It hit like a blade stabbing into my brain — images… flashes.

The nights in the alley.

The stomach twisting in agony from hunger.

The biting cold that made me believe my blood would freeze.

The guards screaming as they kicked me on the ground for stealing a piece of bread.

The countless times I was thrown out like garbage from taverns — starving, thirsty… with nothing.

"If I don't do this… I go back to that."

My eyes rose, locking onto the soldiers. They laughed. They lived. They ate. They breathed. They had everything I once begged for — and never had.

My grip tightened around the sword. The mantra pulsed through my muscles, warming my body, slowing my breathing, deepening it.

"...I won't go back."

A step. Then another. And then — I ran.

The first soldier turned, startled — but it was too late. The blade sliced through the side of his neck, scraping bone, and a hot, viscous spray drenched me. His scream was choked by his own blood.

The second tried to react, but my body wasn't mine anymore. It was… pure instinct. An upward slash — chest torn open, ribs cracking. The smell… the smell of flesh, of blood, of death. It was suffocating.

"Keep going..." — I heard it. That voice inside my head. "Keep going..."

The third tried to flee. He ran, slipped in the mud… I caught him, drove the sword through his shoulder, shoving it deep until it shredded his lung. He coughed blood all over my face.

— "No… no... please..."

But my hands wouldn't stop. One. Two. Three thrusts. Until he stopped moving. Until he was just soft, useless meat on the ground.

The last merchant collapsed to his knees, hands raised, tears spilling down his face.

— "I have a family... I have children..."

For a second… I hesitated.

For a second… my hands trembled.

And then, a memory.

The memory of a woman kicking me out of her shop.

The memory of a man breaking my arm because I stole an apple.

The memory of hunger, of cold, of loneliness, of emptiness.

"They never had mercy on me."

I stepped forward. Drove the sword upward through his chin — the blade pierced clean through the back of his head. He didn't even have time to scream.

Silence.

Only my breathing.

Heavy.

Fast.

Dirty.

My hands were shaking. I looked around... Corpses. Blood. Blood everywhere. On the ground. On my face. On my hands. On my clothes. On the sword. In the air. On my body. In my chest. In my... everything.

"What... what have I done..."

I dropped the sword. My legs buckled. I collapsed to my knees in the mud, in the blood, in the flesh. My fingers... I rubbed them against my clothes, trying to wipe it off... trying to scrub away that red, as if that could erase what I had done.

But it wouldn't come off.

The blood doesn't come off.

My eyes burned. A knot in my throat. And then... I broke.

I cried.

I cried harder than I ever had in my life.

Not when I was in the alleyways. Not when I starved. Not when I nearly died.

But now... now... the weight crushed my chest.

I curled up.

Hands over my face.

Tears mixing with blood and mud.

That's when I noticed...

Darius was there.

Standing.

Watching.

He didn't say a word.

Just crossed his arms, took a deep breath... and stayed silent.

His eyes… they were no longer the eyes of a predator, nor of an executioner.

They were the eyes of someone who understood.

Who had been here before.

Who knew exactly how this crushes someone's soul.

He didn't offer empty words.

Didn't try to say it would be okay.

Didn't try to soften it with lies.

He just… remained.

There.

Present.

His gaze — strong, solid, unshakable… said more than any words ever could.

"I know. I've been there. And you… you will survive."

The wind blew. The trees bowed. And the silence... was the greatest comfort of all.