Shadows danced under the lush glow of the bonfire. All while the men drank to their hearts content. Unbeknownst to them, a different form of shadow silently lurked in waiting. Patiently watching them from afar.

  Samael hid under the shades of the trees. His hands trembling under the raging torrent of anger, anxiety and fear he felt. But he stood strong.

  It has been some time since he started his observations. At first, he had no plan whatsoever, but after gathering information around the camp, he managed to formulate a half-baked one.

  During his observation, Samael noticed how much they drank. They were downing one mug after the other and showed no signs of restraint. Surely, one of them is bound to leave and answer the calling of nature.

  When they do so, he will utilize stealth and ambush the man. But he will have to make sure he does so quickly and silently to avoid attracting unwanted attention.

  But should his plan fail, he had another. He had observed that they kept all their belongings near one another. There he saw the jugs of oil for their lamps, tar and other flammable items sitting idly by the side.

  And he had a match.

  Samael shifted his gaze at the knife in his hand as he tightened his grip.

  He knew what needed to be done. That he had to once again take arms and take another life. Yet, he did not know if he had the strength to do so.

  Samael swallowed hard and unsheathed his old, dusty knife. He wiped its steel edge with his coarse clothes and laid eyes upon his reflection.

  What greeted him was nothing but his marred appearance stained in crimson. At that moment, he couldn't help but feel fear and uncertainty.

  He feared that if he took another life, he too will become like them.

  Monsters.

  He feared that he would betray his father's teachings. The one thing that reminded him who he was and that he had a family once.

  His stomach churned, but he hurriedly slapped himself. The pain holding together the sliver of sanity he had left. Now was not the time to hesitate. Still, he couldn't help but sigh in bitterness.

  Kids his age usually play with other kids as they bathe in the innocence of childhood, eat warm, delicious meals made by people that love them, and have those same loving folks wait for them at a safe place everybody calls "home".

  But Samael only felt the gaping hole in his chest, constantly reminding him that he has no family, no shoulders to cry on, and no sanctuary to return to.

  He was forced to leave his childhood behind and face the cold cruelty of this world alone. In order to survive, he had to adapt and mature.

  But that is also the very same reason that kept on screaming inside his head to do this act of insanity.

  He had already experienced how it felt to be enslaved. How it felt to be used and discarded. He can't let others experience that same hell. He simply can't.

  Samael opened his eyes, his pupils reflecting the boundless darkness of the night. Hiding beneath a sharp glint capable of inflicting great horror on others.

  Samael stepped back, his figure sank and became one with the pitch black shadows of the night. Meanwhile, the youngest in the group rose to his feet and dusted himself.

  "Hey, save me some booze. I'll be back quick." He excused himself as he narrowly avoided a stumble. The other guy didn't even glance at him and continued downing mug after mug as he released a reverberating barf.

  "Fuckin glutton," The young man muttered under his breath as he walked towards the forest bushes to answer the call of nature. His unsteady and shaky steps betrayed his inebriated state.

  He roamed aimlessly until he found a suitable location. He sweeped his gaze around him. Seeing that his vicinity was clear, he unzipped his trousers and relieved himself.

  "Ahh, that's the spot!" The young man exclaimed. He closed his eyes and released a deep breath.

  But his attention soon shifted as he heard the sound of the rustling leaves above.

  Shifting his gaze up, his eyes widened as a figure fell atop of him.

  "Wha—"

  A thud echoed in the air as the wind and rustling of the leaves drowned the man's voice.

  Samael gasped for air, his hands trembling as they clutched the blood-stained rock. His eyes widened in horror.

  He profusely shook his head, and a small bit of clarity resurfaced. He loosened his grip, allowing the rock to plummet down the crimson grass as he gripped the rough handle of his knife.

  He stopped and blinked a couple times. Unable to muster the courage needed to finish his mission. He could feel his hands trembling and his heart racing. Fear gripping his heart at the thought that this was the final step to truly losing who he was.

  It truly was deafening. How one's understanding of themselves could shatter when confronted with the harsh reality of this world.

  Yet, Samael's eyes gained clarity as he heard the whimpering of the kid inside that carriage and the fear he had was burned under the intensity of his rage.

  It had to be done.

  He lowered his head, his knuckles pale white under his gruelling grip. He had come too far to turn back now. The thought of letting someone else undergo what he went through, the very thought of those children's suffering— he cannot let it happened again. They cannot keep getting away with it.

  He bit his lips, the metallic taste of blood invaded his mouth and woke him from his stupor. The pain sharpened his mind, bringing clarity.

  Slowly, he rose to his feet, and this time he finally managed to muster the courage to inch closer to the unconscious young man.

  His palm turned white as he gripped the knife. Its silver blade reflected the moonlight, hinting at its capabilities to severe human life. Samael wrapped his fingers around the handle of the worn-down weapon. He could feel the cold sweat kiss his skin as he took a deep breath.

  Slowly, he raised it above his head. In one breath, the silver gleam of the weapon shone brightly as it plunged itself into the skull of the man's head, ending him as swiftly as possible.

  Blood splattered on his cheeks and hands. The crimson liquid dripping from his fingertips. Its metallic scent invading his nose.

  Samael held his stomach and vomitted on the floor. Tears trickled down his face as he emptied his stomach. Further worsening his dehydration. He leaned back on the tree trunk, his quiet sobs shrouding the cold endless darkness.

  Samael bashed the coarse bark of the tree with his calloused hands as he wiped his mouth.

  There was no time to waste.

  There was no time to cry.

  There was no time for weakness.

  He had to keep moving, or everything else was for naught. With a broken spirit and heavy shoulders, Samael rose to his feet once more and went onwards.

  He loomed close the corpse of the young man, gagging at the sight of it, but he managed to hold it off.

  He painstakingly searched the dead body for anything he could use. The putrid stench of death and alcohol made him scrunch up his nose and hold his breath.

  The only things he found was a dagger strapped to his waist and a vial with blue liquid inside. Its soft glow shone with mysticism, standing out amidst the empty darkness.

  The moment the smooth vial touched his skin, a sweet scent invaded his nostrils, faintly dancing in the air before vanishing. Unfortunately, he didn't know the purpose of the bottle, so he threw it in his bag and moved on.

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  He quickly unstrapped the dagger from the deceased slaver and tucked it tight to his side. It was a place he could quickly reach, so it was the most optimal location. It was a shame that he couldn't take the sword since it was too heavy for him.

  If his hunch was right, then the other guy would surely get suspicious and check out the condition of his accomplice. He needs to match the timing and ambush the man at the right time. He only had one chance; he can't mess this up.

  Samael's back was drenched in cold sweat as his eyes constantly darted back and forth between the corpse and the direction of the caravan.

  Back in the camp, the second man lowered his pint onto the earth with a loud bang as he wiped his messy beard.

  "Huh... Where did that brat go? I know he's got some bladder issues... but this is still taking it too long." He complained before ascending from his seated position.

  Contrary to what Samael saw, the man was far taller and bulkier. His peasant clothes stretched and strained with his every movement.

  "Dammit, I was enjoying my drink, and now I have to look for that little shit," he added before following the trail of the young man.

  Meanwhile, in the forest, Samael hid in a tree near the corpse of the slaver. He made sure to cover him with some dirt to hide the blood. He wanted it to appear that the man fell asleep after drinking too much. Hopefully, the veil of darkness will help him fool the man's accomplice.

  Time ticked by, and Samael's anticipation increased by the second.

  He was about to check and leave his hiding spot when he heard a rustling, forcing him to sink back down. What followed next made Samael take a mouthful of air.

  A huge figure came out of the bushes. He had to look twice to confirm it was a human and not a bear.

  He's gigantic!

  The boy gulped as he watched the bulky man look around. Until he finally spotted the young man hugging the ground.

  "There you are! What the fuck took you so long?" But there was only the deafening silence and the every so often chattering of bugs. "The fuck? You're ignoring me?" He said, his brows furrowed and his eyes sharpened. He leisurely walked forward, feeling the cold wind blow on his hair until he was face to face with the "sleeping" man.

  "Huh? Sleeping? This bastard..." The bulky man kneeled as he intended to carry the "unconscious" young man.

  This was the chance and Samael took it.

  A black shadow dashed from the crevices of the forest, breaking the eerie silence.

  Samael tensed his body as he thrust his knife towards the man's neck, ignoring the sharp ache of his muscles.

  The man glanced momentarily and angled his body sideways. The cold steel of the knife brushing against his cheek, leaving a mild, searing pain.

  He flexed his thighs and propelled himself back before reaching for his sword and unsheathing it. Its blade reflected cracks and chips, while its surface was stained crimson.

  The bulky man was confused momentarily at what attacked him, but he brandished his sword quickly.

  Whatever it was, it successfully wounded him. Samael was now labeled a threat. Things just got a whole lot messier. The slaver now had his guard raised, and he was perhaps completely sober now.

  Damn it! Samael hurriedly pushed himself from the ground and faced the bear-like man who towered over him. Samael looked like a complete midget compared to him. He could barely see his belly.

  The bulky man's brows furrowed as he looked at Samael up and down.

  "A kid?" He asked himself as his eyebrow raised. Did he seriously get scared by a pipsqueak? The man burst into laughter as he lowered his weapon.

  "Fuck! You scared me there for a second!" He said while laughing.

  Samael stayed focused and observed the man keenly. He squinted his eyes and disregarded everything else that didn't matter.

  The boy thought that the man would be slow considering his size, but after seeing him dodge his attack earlier, there was no doubt that he was strong. Far stronger than the other guy.

  The bulky man marched confidently with strong, steady steps towards the small boy. He didn't even bother to raise his sword since, to him, Samael was nothing but a weak little kid. Perhaps the man even considered this an opportunity.

  The man glanced over his shoulders, casting a disdainful gaze the lifeless body of his partner and he couldn't help but sneer. "Pathetic piece of shit," he shrugged.

  The man cracked his neck and slung his blade over his shoulder, a cocky grin spreading across his face. He dug his foot on the moist ground and catapulted himself toward Samael at incredible speed.

  Samael's eyes widened as the man's figure appeared inches from him.

  He tried to raise his hands, but he was greeted by a giant fist slamming itself on his abdomen. The force sent the boy flying a few steps back before he hit a tree with a loud bang. The man proceeded to whistle while watching the kid gasp for air.

  Samael had veins popping out of his neck as he tried his hardest to breathe. He couldn't believe what just happened. He didn't even properly understand what transpired, and the next thing he knew, he was sent flying like a ball.

  His body trembled as he gazed at the approaching silhouette of the man.

  The man's footsteps sounded like drums echoing in the silent forest. The boy planted his hands on the moist dirt and pushed with all his strength, but to no avail.

  A hand grabbed his hair and raised him up.

  "ARGHH!" Samael screamed as he flailed around, trying to break free from the man's grasp.

  He threw the boy like a rag, his face distorted in exasperation.

  "You know this is only going to hurt more as you struggle more," The man said in a mocking tone. He had already checked the boy's condition when he took hold of him earlier. To the man, the boy was useless. He was a damaged product. Probably won't even fetch them a single coin. If that were the case, then he'd rather have fun and take his time killing him.

  "You wanna play a game? Let's play tag, yeah?" The man said in a sadistic tone. A twisted grin plastered on his face.

  Every fiber of Samael's body ached as he grasped the dirt with his hands, struggling to even get up.

  Can I even beat him?

  Am I going to die like this?

  In the end, was his efforts meaningless?

  Yet, the whimpering of the girl inside the carriage kept on echoing inside his head, playing like a broken recorder.

  Samael's grip on the dirt tightened even further as he grinded his teeth together.

  He had nothing to lose anymore. If he was to indeed perish here then so be it. But he would die trying to help someone who deserved a better future.

  He already lost his. He feared death no more. For nothing awaited him outside this hellhole.

  As the burly man raised his weapon high, a black, sandy substance entered his eye sockets as he saw nothing but darkness.

  His scream reverberated in the forest as he swung in a frenzy.

  A handful of dirt slithered down the boy's palm as he gathered his resolve.

  With his flickering strength, Samael launched himself at the man. His body creaked as he collided with the burly slaver.

  The man winced as he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. With his half-open eyes, he touched his abdomen only to see blood.

  Samael pulled the knife across the man's belly using his body weight.

  Seeing this, the man swept him away.

  Samael slammed on the ground, making the dust stir, but he wasn't done yet.

  "YOU BASTARD!" The man spat in pure rage as he raised his weapon to the air before bringing it down with unparalleled ferocity.

  Following the man's move earlier, Samael dragged his body to the side in an attempt to copy as the man did to his attack earlier.

  He angled his body sideways, but his foot got locked with his other sole, sending him in a tumble. Before he could get up, a sword planted itself beside his face, sending patches of dirt flying. Consumed by his emotions, he used the dagger and slammed it at the foot of the man.

  "AHHHH!!" The man released an blood curdling scream as blood sprinkled out of his foot, watering the already crimson grass.

  Samael huffed violently as he sent his foot in an arc, landing itself in between the man's legs, a loud crack reverberated soon after.

  "ARGHHH YOU FUCKING FUCK!" The man screamed in utter pain as he rolled on the ground with one hand on his testicles and the other on his stomach. Below him, a blood puddle soaked the earth.

  However, Samael did not know what was happening. He was not conscious of his actions, only the pain and the rage enveloping him.

  Yet, along with that torment came newfound strength he had never felt before.

  Samael had experienced it twice. The first was when he killed the mage, and now this.

  However, this peculiar ability tire him greatly. It strengthened him yet he could actively feel the fatigue stacking up each passing second he was in this state. But mattered no more.

  The burly man's chest heaved furiously, a foreign feeling blooming in his heart. That primal emotion to just run and escape...

  In all of his adventuring life, he had never encountered anyone who could overpower him. He has never seen anyone fight like this. This kid—no, this thing—fought like a monster.

  The man has never felt this kind of emotion in his life. The feeling of death looming near you. He felt...

  Fear...

  I-I h-ha-have to kill him now! The man called forth his flickering strength, which only amounted to so much. He had already lost too much blood.

  The slaver grabbed a wooden handle behind his back and pulled it out. It was a machete, its surface marred with the blood of those he has slain.

  The man took a sharp breath as he rose to his feet, his hand tightly applying pressure to his bleeding abdomen. He raised his hand, pointing the weapon towards Samael.

  "FUCK. YOU!" The man roared as he dashed towards the boy. His muscle strained as the machete descended with unparalleled ferocity. However, he was too slow.

  Samael used his arms and pulled his body like a slingshot, propelling himself forward, slamming to the slaver's injured leg. The burly man didn't know what happened, but the next thing he knew, he was already kneeling.

  Huh, wha—

  Samael held the man tightly as he opened his mouth wide before slamming it shut, imbedding his bare fangs on the throat of his foe.

  The machete in the slaver's hand slid down with a sickening thud as he pushed the boy away. He grasped his throat, blood spewing like a fountain from them. He scurried up in frantic haste and stumbled to get away.

  He couldn't care less about killing the boy; he just needed to run.

  The man felt dread envelope his whole being. The darkness, accompanied by the scent of blood in the air, sent shivers down his spine. He stumbled a few times as he "tried" to seek refuge, but there was no escape, it's far too late for that.

  The boy grabbed the machete and lifted it. Veins bulging in his arms as he used both his limbs to drag them.

  The man slowly cranked his head back, and what he perceived sent shivers down his spine.

  He saw a demon.

  One holding a machete, approaching him at a rapid pace.

  He was going to die, and he had no choice but to watch.

  The man's life flashed before his eyes. His distant childhood, family, and hardships. Thoughts lingered in his mind.

  So this is it? He thought, accepting death at the last moment. Yet...

  Screams.

  He heard screams.

  Those from the people he have killed. From the folks he had commited atrocities and the countless lives he has damned in the line of slavery.

  They all said one thing.

  "Burn in hell with us."

  His eyes jolted open, fear shrouding his bloodshot eyes.

  His mouth shot open as he roared.

  "NO—"

  Then everything spun around. And the last thing he saw was a headless body kneeling calmly under the wind before life escaped his eyes.

  Samael stood still for a long while. His whole body covered in blood and guts. He was drenched in it.

  THUD!

  The body of the man fell down, and his blood watered the soil.

  Samael did not know what to feel anymore. He felt numb; he felt like a monster. Maybe he was a monster. The boy felt lifeless. He felt desperate and in pain.

  His eyes dulled as he marched his way to his last foe.

  The night was still long.