HUNTING THE DARKNESS

ARC I: THE NOISE IN THE SILENCE

The Beginning

"Alright, so what's the plan here, Rick?" The leader of the crew demanded, sitting frustrated in his chair, "Are you gonna keep me waiting on my ass forever?"

"Of course not, boss. We found something we think you'd love." Rick motioned to his fellow soldier, a younger man called Kash, for a map. He did his best, despite it not being his strong suit, to memorize every part of the village he had scouted earlier. He unrolled the map on the table, catching the leader's attention.

"What the hell's this supposed to be?" The older man looked at the markings, confused.

"This, Gabe, is a village. An unprotected village, not far from here too."

Gabe sat back in his chair, chuckling evilly. He was the only man to make any noise in the tent. The prospect of getting rich over a weaker, unprepared, innocent group of people was amusing to him. He did take the time to listen to Rick's finding, but he really wasn't paying them attention. He thought of the possible fortunes he could find at a place like that, the prizes he could have. The only detail he made sure to listen to was the ideal time to attack.

"Perfect. We leave at night." He said with a cocky grin on his face.

To Gabe, leading mercenaries was about fortune and glory. The more battles they won, the higher their reputation, the more the price he could wager for when being hired. His attachment to his men was very little, if there was even any at all. They were pawns in his game, his objective to personal fame. He left the tent not much longer after, barking instructions at his men to ready their horses, carriages, weapons and armor. Any man not prepared was asking to die, as he had told them.

"This the place?" He asked with map in hand, his horse standing at the edge of a valley. Rick inched closer to him, surveying the area. He very quickly recognized it, despite the darkness.

"Exactly"

Gabe turned his horse to his men. The formation was non-existent, like always. It was like staring at a group of predators – every man in there looked bloodthirsty, and he could feel it making the blood rush through his veins like in his youth. He raised his sword in the air, sending his troops into a frenzy. The sound of galloping hooves and screams was the reason why each and every man was there to begin with.

"Charge! Kill every last one of them!"

The massacre ensued. It didn't matter who it was – man, woman, young child or the elderly – there was no mercy shown that night. The bloodshed was something the village was not prepared for. The citizens had not seen conflict ever since they settled down many years ago. Their life was one mainly focused around agriculture and trade, where a heap of praise earned them large sums of cash. Unfortunately for them, that sum was eyed by a greedy, bloodthirsty murderer, sending death upon them. Swords went swinging, limbs were severed, innocents robbed and tortured for hours. The large group huddled at the middle of the now destroyed village, celebrating their victory. Their leader joined them, a large wagon in toe.

"Good work, lads. Search everything and bring it all to the carriage."

Gabe himself dismounted his horse. The war scene around him was just what he demanded from his men – no survivors. He had his eyes set on one main prize – a large house that looked as if it was built yesterday. The perfect condition it was in, standing apart from the rest of the wreckage around him, enticed his senses. He began to walk towards it when he heard something he didn't believe at first.

A baby's cry.

He stopped. He listened more intently, looking for the source of the sound. He found it was coming from inside the house, but after scanning both up and downstairs, he had no idea from where. The sound of murmuring and whispering voices was now present in his head, but his failings of finding it made him wonder if he was dreaming. Sensibly, he did the next thing in mind. He started trashing the house, throwing over furniture and looking for a possible trap door. He pushed over a bookcase, collapsing and breaking it against the floor, and that's where he found them.

Two women, in their early ages. One was on the ground, struggling visibly with both her legs spread apart. The other was knelt down next to her, saying words of encouragement. Both panicked and paused when they saw him, lingering over them and casting an intimidating shadow.

"P-please have mercy, sir, she's just given birth" The caretaker rushed to say, finding it impossible to keep her composure and panic. Tears were rushing to her eyes and that only managed to anger Gabe more. He reached forward and made a grab for the still infant baby from her arms, pushing the woman against the ground when she scrambled forward for it. He smiled at her struggles and cries wickedly, like only a true evil could. He grasped his sword in his free fingers and stabbed the caretaker through the chest. The other woman, somewhat older than her, was still on the ground in pain, having trouble moving. She was heaving from exhaustion, and crying.

"P-p-please sir"

As he aged, Gabe barely got to feel the rush of battle. But this experience was like an ecstasy, much greater than any battlefield experience he had ever gotten the pleasure of experiencing. He was given the feeling of immense control over the prone woman's life, sending jolts of joy throughout his body. He grinned at the woman and laughed, all before stabbing her too. She was gasping for air, the blood staining her clothes. He removed the sword slowly, bringing even more undeserved pain on the innocent woman.

"Percy…"

Those were her last words before her head was cut off.

"What'cha got there, Gabe? You gonna torture it?" Rick inquired when he saw his boss. The entire group was already on their horses, ready for departure.

"Nah" Gabe scuffed at him, walking towards the wagon's drivers. He handed them the infant, casually walking away to his horse and climbing on the saddle, "My wife's been a real pain in the neck, gotta make sure she has other stuff to do so she isn't getting at me all day. Make sure it lives."

The infant is raised along the ranks of Gabe's force. Despite the horrible fate his mother has been subjected to, Percy's living a rather peaceful life. Under the care of his adoptive mother Heather, he learns the life of a traveller when he's only a few months old. Heather shows him all of the love she's been kept from showing her husband – she teaches young Percy many things, besides walking and talking. When the group is gone, she allows him to roam through their camp freely. She smiles as he runs around under the bright rays of the sun without a care in the world, not aware of what his future holds for him.

When he turns 6, Heather becomes sick. In the beginning, neither her nor Percy worry too much. Heather tells him that it could be a common cold, and that she'll be healthy and back on her feet in a few days. If only that happened.

"Gabe?" Percy walks in to his adoptive father's tent, in the middle of a long game of cards with his companions.

"What is it?" he almost barks at the kid, not even bothering to turn his head to face him, let alone acknowledge his presence.

"Mom's really sick, we need to get medicine for her."

"The woman? She'll be fine. Go on, get outta here you little shit."

Heather passes away not too long after. Percy was by her side the entire time, while no one else was, not even Gabe. She held his hand as he watched the life escape her, as she gasped for her last breaths of air. He didn't cry – rather, he was horrified, numb, frozen. She used the very last of his strength and gave his hand one final, gentle squeeze, and whispered her last words.

"Keep fighting" she said, her eyes closing. Percy let go of her hand and blew out the candle that provided light in the crammed tent. He left, unsure of what to do or where to go. Who does he even tell if no one cared? The night was darker than it ever was, the only thing that could understand how he was feeling.

"Never stop fighting."

Gabe began taking care of Percy after Heather passed. The news was indifferent to him. Percy was on the edge of tears that he knew he couldn't show in front of his step father, but to Gabe, the news was just that – news. Percy, to a lot of dejection, stayed away from the rest of the group that day. That was his first real taste of seclusion, of being completely alone. The next day, Gabe woke him up early from the very little sleep he had that night. He practically dragged him out of his tent and brought him to the center of the camp.

"You can't keep expecting to live off of free meals here anymore." Gabe started speaking to the still groggy Percy, reaching into a box of tools and pulling out a sword. He walked towards Percy and put the weapon into his hands. It was too big for him to handle, throwing him off balance as he walked and tried keeping it steady.

"You better start learning how to fight. You're a mercenary, that's how you earn money."

The two practiced with their swords until the remainder of the camp woke. The exertion of swinging a heavy blade, along with the new movements, made Percy exhausted. Gabe was relentless as well – shoving, punching, and cutting him whenever he made a mistake. The beginning of their training was absolutely brutal to Percy, who often went to sleep bruised and bleeding. The scars, they start off light, but then they spread from his face down to his arms, his hands, and even his thighs and legs. Despite that, he kept thinking about what Gabe said to him, about mercenaries. As the time passed he learned that when everyone was away, they were most likely robbing and antagonizing people for money. He thought he realized that even before Heather died. That was the work of mercenaries, after all.

And one day, it'll be him as well.

So he finds himself with his sword, the same one Gabe gave him their first day, practicing. He swung it back and forth, over his head, with his arms, slowly getting used to its overbearing size. He practiced in the mornings, before going to bed, and all throughout the day. Gabe practiced with him less and less, claiming his schedule was too busy. But the next time he got the chance, Percy vowed to show him his progress. One day Gabe surprised him, and right before lunch, he approached him with his sword to practice. The gap in experience between them was still too big for Percy to win, but he was making progress his own way. Gabe swung down towards his shoulder, and instinctively, Percy sidestepped and brought his sword up, slashing Gabe on the cheek. The men sitting around them watching were excited before, cheering the two on, but then fell silent.

"You little fucker!"

Percy froze in place as well. The burning desire in his heart to please his stepfather was so bright, and he now doubted if he took it too far. Gabe slashed his sword widely, cutting Percy deeply across his chest. He stumbled backwards as the blood started spouting out and covering his body, staining his clothes as well. But Gabe wasn't done. He stayed on top of him, punching him relentlessly. Some of the soldiers around them stood up, rushing to contain Gabe and covering Percy's wound.

"Don't be too harsh on him Gabe, he's just a kid" They tried reasoning to the older man, but he scoffed at them and walked away, disappearing to his tent.

That night Percy felt like his entire body was on fire. He passed out from the pain after the cut happened, but he overheard it was deep. How deep, he didn't really know. His entire midsection was heavily bandaged when he woke up in bed, and he was not able to sleep the remainder of that night. He stayed up, drowning in thoughts. Despite the result, despite the pain it caused him, he knew that today was his first real success. He wondered if even despite his rage, if Gabe was starting to think about letting him on the battlefield with him.

"I'm not risking you cutting my cheek again, so we'll do something different." A few days after his wounds healed, Percy followed Gabe into the forest next to the camp. Gabe brought a bow and arrows with him which he carried as they advanced deeper into the woods. He walked ahead of Percy, scouting out some of the rocks next to them.

"This spot should be good." He knelt down and got the bow from around his shoulders. Percy climbed the rocks and knelt down next to Gabe. Below them, although quiet far, were a grouping of deer. Gabe handed the bow to Percy, which he gripped like per Gabe's instructions. He took the arrow from Gabe's hand, and just like he instructed, pulled the bow back and aimed. His eyes caught sight of his target, and he released the arrow, aiming for its neck. The arrow bounced clumsily off the string of the bow when it shot forward, landing next to the leaves in the vicinity of the animals. They heard the sound and ran away swiftly. Percy promptly grabbed onto his cheek with his hand after an angry fist struck it, swelling and bruising it.

"You idiot! You can't even do this right!"

The screaming and yelling didn't stop. But despite it, Percy strove to learn and improve. Just like with his sword training, he continued to set out into the woods on his own. At the beginning, he shot arrows at the trunks of trees. He then went to retrieve them and repeated the process, only from a few steps back. The bow still felt clumsy in his hands and he much preferred a sword, but he was making progress and tried to get noticed.

Three years passed, and that was still all he ever wanted.

Later in the night, he felt as if winter was approaching. The moon was full and bright, and the wind accompanying it was just as impactful. Those nights were always difficult for him to sleep in, and with all his wounds and bruises adding up, although some of them have and closed and are only a scar now, the path to closing his eyes and drifting off was long off. That's when he heard the sound of boots against the ground, walking towards his tent. Despite the darkness, he could see a silhouette of a large man, who he assumed was Gabe. Even with that hitch, he wanted to make sure.

"Who's there?" He propped himself on his elbows, trying to focus his eyes. In walked that large figure, but he was larger than he anticipated. At that size, it couldn't possibly be Gabe, which made Percy reach for his sword in fear of an intruder. The figure walked closer, its face becoming clearer.

"Rick?"

Rick launched forward, making a grab for both of Percy's arms. He was the much bigger man, and establishing his dominance was anything but hard. He easily held both his wrists together and threw the sword out of his hands, the only thing that could possibly keep him safe. An unimaginable fear rose through his chest, forcing his body to twist and turn and try to escape, to try and get out. Rick aimed for the back of Percy's head, landing a hard punch, dizzying the struggling kid. Percy's vision was blurry, but the words cut through like a knife.

"You can't fight it kid. You're my slave tonight."

The last bits of power were seeped out of his arms as Rick spoke the devastating words that hit him like venom. He was completely pinned down, completely helpless, not knowing what's about to happen.

"You're worthless. I bought you."

Percy couldn't sleep after the horror concluded. He shuddered as he reached for his sword, holding it helplessly in his arms. The comfort just wasn't the same, but he didn't know anything but his sword as protection. He felt violated, disgusted with himself. Maybe he was worthless. Maybe Gabe didn't see any value in him anymore. He woke up the next morning with a burning desire to ask for answers, but he stayed away. He didn't want to hear those words being spoken - it would only make things worse.

The next week, Gabe allowed him to join the group on the battlefield. They were hired to infiltrate a stronghold against a force about 2000 strong that had barely been holding it anymore. As with all things in his life, there was no moment to rest. This was his first battle, his first chance to cross swords with enemies in a real situation.

Or just a chance for Gabe to have him killed. Percy didn't know, but he didn't plan on dying today.

"Don't freeze, kiddo." Gabe said to him before signalling the force to charge the fort. Gabe's men totalled more than 4000, which made the attack an easy one. Percy charged in with the first line. This was his opportunity, after all. This was his chance to impress, to get noticed. Three years of hard work had finally come down to this one moment. The atmosphere was heavy but the rush of adrenaline through his veins kept him focused, pushing forward. Other unit members around him charged in all different directions like barbarians, finishing off whoever was in their way. Percy saw one opponent come out from a hiding spot, underneath rubble, his aim set on a fellow soldier. There was no one around but him, this was his time.

Percy is 9 years old when he scores his first kill.

He made quick eye contact with the soldier he had just saved, who left and moved on just as quickly. But instead, Percy froze. So this was the feeling, the feeling of taking a life. But he didn't feel anything when he stabbed that man through the neck. There was no fear, no regret or doubt. He froze for too long, until he felt a sword cling to the top of his helmet. The large cling sound busted him right out of his trance as the helmet flew off his head, and the enemy stood above him. All the waiting, all the training, and this was the end. The only thought that really crossed his mind was that he was going to die due to his own clumsiness, his own failure.

A familiar sword cut clean through the enemy's chest, dropping him to the ground instantly.

"I thoguht I told you not to freeze! Keep moving, go!" Gabe reached his hand forward, pulling Percy up to his feet. Those few words, the acknowledgement that his stepfather had seen him succeed, that was what pushed him through the remainder of the battle. He didn't kill any more, but that vindication was the first sign that he was on the right path. At the end of the battle the force lined up to receive their pay. He did get hit several times during the skirmish, but in his mind, making his first coins was a success. When they made it back to camp he wandered off, examining each coin as if it was a gold bar.

The next three years he is constantly on the battleground. As Gabe ages he stops training with him, but the more Percy goes off on his own, the more he experiences fighting, the better he gets. His instincts sharpen, allowing him to cut react to danger quicker. He starts handling multiple enemies at once, becoming more aware of his surroundings. The slashing of his sword becomes second nature to him; it becomes his armor and shield when he never had protection.

Shortly after he turns 12, Percy is dispatched with a small part of the group to protect a local village. The town folks were being constantly harassed by a band of thieves, and when word of a mercenary group was in the area reached them they immediately made contact. Gabe, of course, agreed to lend a hand. The pay for the job was significant for what he figured out would be an easy task. He decided to join the group as well, thinking that if the villagers were willing to give this amount of money for a small group of bandits, then maybe there would be other opportunities to make money.

The village itself was much like the one Percy was born in, although he did not know it. The cabins, homes, and fields all seemed new, in perfect condition. Gabe sent the group to set up camp and went off into the village. He said he would talk to the locals, but anyone that knew him for more than a few days knew he was going off to do something completely different, one which involved anything but talking and reasoning with the people.

As the head of the village had anticipated, the attack came later that same night. Gabe's men were ready – as the bandits rode in to the village, they snuck from out of the bushes and flanked them on horseback. The plan seemed very simple to Percy, and it was – he was doing very well for himself, fending off multiple attackers as had become the norm for him. When he thought the battle was over and the thieves started retreating he heard a loud yell and a thud of a human body hitting the ground.

"Shit!" Gabe cursed, his face flinching in pain. He was yelping on the ground and from where he was standing Percy didn't realize why there was so much blood around him. It was only when he came closer that he realized that there was a bad cut on the back of his leg.

The wound was worse than they had anticipated. There wasn't much blood, it was easy to bandage, but Gabe was yelping and screaming in pain all the way back to the village. He was quiet after a while, but that was only because he had too much to drink and passed out from the mixture of alcohol and pain.

He was placed in his tent, his friends deciding he was going to get treatment the next day.

"I can't move it!"

The entire camp, Percy included, were woken up to a frustrated, angry scream. Everyone rushed to the source of the sound - Gabe.

"I can't move my fucking leg!"

They tried to move it for him, but it made only made Gabe scream more, and louder. While he was focused on the pain, his friends looked at each other knowingly. Percy was a good few feet away, watching with no idea what they were thinking until one of them reached for a sword. His eyes widened.

"The wound's too deep. We're gonna have to cut it off."

Gabe tried to protest in despair, saying the leg has to heal. Percy had a lot of questions - how deep could the wound be, really? It had to heal, right? - but he didn't get a chance to ask any of them. Gabe went from despair to anger as he realized what was about to happen. His voice was a mixture of pain, frustrating and sadness as he screamed at his men to hurry it up and get it over with. The sword came down, slicing Gabe's leg right off.

Watching from a distance, Percy felt an overwhelming to be the man to have done that.

No one dared speak to him the following days. The few around him knew that his greedy ambition was one that he liked to accomplish himself, and now it appeared his mercenary days were done and over with. He started spending that money he had saved for so long and started drinking more and more often. In the beginning he did so in his own tent, away from everyone else. But as time passed he began snapping at other soldiers, swearing at them, pushing and threatening. He got more and more violent, despite the repeated attempts to calm him, nothing worked.

It all culminated one night when Percy laid inside his tent on his bedroll, breathing in the scent of the night. He could see, like that horrendous night many years ago, a figure approach his tent. But this time, after that experience, he was ready. He grabbed for his sword and was prepared for the intruder to enter his space, but it wasn't an intruder. It wasn't Rick either, it was Gabe. He was clearly very drunk, holding a now almost empty glass bottle in his hand. He was leaning against his crutch, barely putting any weight on his other leg. Adding to that, he seemed angry, furious.

"You're fucking dead" He started walking towards Percy, slowly, using his crutch as support.

"I-I'm"

"Shut up!" His voice turned from a growl to a scream, certainly waking up some of the other campers around them. He cocked his arm back, throwing the empty bottle at Percy's arm. The glass shattered and left several cuts, with one of the pieces even piercing deeply into his skin. Percy flinched and grabbed his arm, dropping his sword to the ground despite the danger he immediately felt he was in.

"I should've killed you when I killed your mother."

There were many piercing words Gabe spoke to him over the years – along with the bad ones he could find some good ones too – but none of them compared to this. He had so many questions, so many things he wanted to know. He wanted to know where he was from, who his parents were, why his mother was killed by Gabe, but he was numb. His brain stopped working and so did every muscle in his body and he wondered if Gabe was going to do what Rick did to him many years ago.

Gabe reached in his belt and grabbed for a knife, advancing still the towards shocked Percy.

"You're a fucking curse! Everything is ruined because of you! All you're good for is to be a plaything. I should've sold you off, have you raped over and over! Maybe then you'd be worth something!"

Gabe launched, leaping off his crutch with murderous intent. Percy didn't want to die - that's what his instincts screamed to him, what he'd learned for 3 years. So he grabbed for his sword and aimed it forward just in time and he closed his eyes, hoping he was quick enough. He felt the blade connect and he knew his attacker was dead. Only his attacker was...Gabe.

He had killed Gabe.

An abnormal amount of time passed as he sat there, Gabe's body still limp against his own. The shock of what he had just done kicked his entire body intro overdrive. When he started regaining his senses he understood one thing – he couldn't stay around any longer. He stood up, the piece of broken glass sending jolts of pain and stinging his arm. He took his only real valuables, his sword and his armor, and ran out of the tent. He made a frantic race towards a horse, despite no one being awake, he felt like he was followed. As he mounted the animal he heard rumblings from the camp behind him, getting louder and louder, and some people swearing in his direction, calling his name. He decided against looking back and raced away, riding off into the trees, into the distance, into the loneliness.

Into the silence.