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Seed Chapter 12
'What was the point? Tell me, O Prince of Highland. What was the point?' The battlefield was settled... finally. The dust and dirt had cleared and was swept away by the prevailing winds. Dirt, grass, Earth... covered by a perfect blanket of corpses, discarded weapons, steel, and blood. It was impossible to count the number of corpses that had been left here. Soon, nature would clean up what had transpired here and the memory would fade away into the annals of history. People would be obvious to the pains and ordeals suffered by the soldiers and victims of this massacre. There are times... 'Heh, and what of me? The great High General Seed, the man hand picked by Lord Ruka Blight to serve as his loyal tool of destruction. When in truth, I'm just as anyone would see me - A young, pretty boy general trying to save innocents.' 'Tch... how pathetic.' Have I failed? He sat there, heavy, wet raindrops pelted his back. The harsh and wet rain mixed with his hair staining it a crimson colour. It was out of place and hung low along the sides of his face. He sat, crouched next to a pile of ash and metal still radiating warmth from Ruka's flames. There was something drawing him to this wet and dark grave; this cursed fortress that reeked of the Prince's lust for blood and death. The young general became overwhelmed. He could feel a rage within him that tugged at his waist. A rage such as could only exhaust itself... Exhaust itself... In blood. The blood of an enemy, or the blood of an ally. It didn't matter. My RAGE...! This composed anger... Anger unlike anything he had experienced. Such an experience wasn't meant to be felt by a human. It's all meaningless in this society. But this anger was something pure... Untainted. Something that gave reach to human kind's most violent and primal of suppressed instincts. The urge to fight and to win... That was the only way to explain it. My RAGE...! He reached for his sword; an elegant and relatively simple design. Nonetheless, it was beautiful. Such a weapon was symbolic to human kind's urge to fight. For weapons are ultimately engineered to destroy... To kill. The rain water hit the blunt side of his blade. It dripped down to the hilt and onto his silver clad hand. 'I will use this... I will use this to kill... I will thrust this into the flesh of my enemy. I will kill him.' My RAGE...! He stood up, his coat waved in the wind, his instrument of death clenched firmly in his glove. The trees before him shuddered. He had lost track of the time hours ago... It was pitch dark, the luminescent light from the moon blocked by thick gray clouds. 'There is nothing... nothing more beautiful than this.' Everything I touch...
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