Kaze flicked the blood from his blade. It splattered across the ground of the shadowed alleyway, glistening faintly in the moonlight bearing down from above. The wind stole the death-wheeze of a man, muted the thump of his body as it hit the ground in a heap.
Power coursed into his body. It wrapped down his arms and burrowed like tiny little knives into his chest. He drew in a deep breath, holding it for a moment as he stared up at the molten stars in the sky, then let it out in a shuddering sigh.
The stars were a lie.
They were not stars. He had long since memorized the position of every star. None of them were where they were meant to be. In fact, they were entirely missing. The light that filled the night sky now was something else entirely. Others believed them to be stars. Kaze could not be so easily fooled.
Liars lurked in the light of these new stars. They had come to him, whispering falsehoods into his ears — promising entry to a family that named themselves Nightmarch, should he obey their honeyed requests. Their promises had been loud, but the wind had told him the truth.
They sought to use him. To use the wind. They spoke with smiles but held blades behind their backs.
Kaze had wanted to kill them, but the wind had warned him of that, too. They were too powerful. And so he had smiled and nodded and promised — and he, too, had lied.
This new world was one of deceit, but that was nothing new. It had always been full of darkness. Full of things that wanted to hurt him. To lie to him. But the wind — the wind was there. It whispered just as it always did, and that was all that mattered.
Kaze stepped over the man's body and emerged into a city square. Monster and man clashed against each other in a loud cacophony. It assaulted his eyes and ears like a foul odor, though there was already no lack of that. The air was saturated in a vile, thick stench. Death hung in the sky. It permeated every single part of the city.
Kaze had already become accustomed to it. The wind had helped him too much for him to let such a thing interfere in his task. There was only one thing in this world that mattered. He would not let anything get in the way of the wind's commands.
A man grabbed Kaze by the arm as he stepped into the street. He'd come out of the shadows, using some form of magic. He yelled something. Thrust his finger across the street, to where a large spider-like monster was ripping through a small group of people.
Kaze didn't hear it. Even if he could have, Kaze doubted he would have cared.
His sword flashed. The man's eyes bulged. Blood poured from his throat. His hands scrabbled at the wound as he fell. It was pointless. He was dead before he hit the ground. Power flowed into Kaze and he stiffened once more.
Men weren't all that much more interesting than monsters. They spoke and tended to put up less of a fight, but that was it. He struggled to tell the difference between them when his sword met their flesh.
Both were necessary. They were the pavestones to his path to the wind. Kaze simply didn't see a reason to attempt to properly differentiate between them. As long as they died and gave him their power, nothing else mattered.
More screams filled the air. Ones loud enough to break through the whisper of the wind, but not loud enough to drown it out. Kaze's eyes narrowed. His blade flashed up, batted away an arrow as it carved through the air toward him.
The projectile clattered to the ground at his side and Kaze turned. A dark-haired man stood on the other side of the square, a bow in his hand and a short blade at his hip. His lips moved as he screamed something, but Kaze was spared from having to hear it.
Kaze stepped forward. The wind swirled, pressing into his back, propelling him. The man's eyes widened as the distance between them evaporated. He didn't even have time to fire another arrow. Kaze swung his blade.
The man whipped the blade free from his side and brought it up with an infuriating cry. Their blades rang against each other and he stumbled back, discarding his bow and grabbing the sword with both hands.
Kaze pressed forward. He slashed with his sword once more. Their weapons struck each other and a loud clang echoed through the streets. White ripples of wind tore down Kaze's sword and a blade of wind carved free from the weapon.
It continued on, passing into the man and slicing across his chest. Blood sprayed from his clothes and he staggered back with a curse. He slashed wildly to keep Kaze back, but Kaze was in no rush.
The man pressed a hand to his cut chest. He glanced over his shoulder, searching for an escape and finding nothing. With a roar, he spun back to Kaze and lunged. He thrust his sword forward, aiming for a killing blow.
Kaze flicked his hand. The wind roared to comply. It slammed into the man's palm in a rush, throwing the blow wide and sending the sword spinning from his hand. Before he could react, Kaze's sword flashed and he stepped to the side.
A line of red traced across the man's throat as it realized that it had been cut. He gargled, grasped at his neck, then pitched forward. Kaze stepped out of the way of the corpse. Power rushed into him once more.
The wind whispered in delight.
For a moment, there was blessed silence. All he could hear was the wind. The sound of the fight had faded — the men and women fighting the spider had all gotten themselves killed or run off. The spider laid dead, brought down by a thousand cuts.
The peace was welcome. Kaze took it in. He stilled his breathing and stood there, blood dripping from the end of his blade. There were precious few moments in which he could take a moment to appreciate everything the System had given him with. Precious few moments where he could —
A warning borne by the wind caressed his ears.
A monster stood at the far end of the street. His dark clothes were splattered with blood and his posture weary, but his blue eyes burned. They were full of delight. Kaze's gaze locked with the monster — the man. He was unarmed, but he carried himself like a weapon. Even though he couldn't see the man's face, Kaze knew that he was smiling.
The wind whispered danger.
"You do realize we're supposed to be killing the monsters, right?" the man asked.
His voice had cut clean through the wind like a blade. They had reached his ears as clear as a still day. The man's voice sounded younger than Kaze had expected, but he barely even registered the actual words.
He had heard a voice. One that did not belong to the wind.
Kaze's jaw clenched. His fists tightened around the hilt of his blade and he shifted his stance.
"I am killing monsters," Kaze said. His voice was hoarse from years of disuse. The words didn't even sound like they belonged to him.
"Oh shoot, that's rich," the man-boy-monster said with a groan. "That's the shtick you're going with? Seriously? The 'we're all monsters down here' angle? They're trying to fucking survive, man. They're not going out and murdering people for fun. Not everyone is evil. And shouldn't you be focusing on the actual threats? What do you get out of killing people that aren't as good of a warrior as you are?"
"Silence," Kaze replied.
He bounded forward, and the wind carried him. It roared in his ears and hurtled toward the loud offender. Whisps of white curled away from the edge of his blade as he brought it down to silence the fool forever.
The boy lifted his hand. The air in front of him cracked. Kaze passed into it. His foot hit the ground. His stomach bucked up into his chest. The world twisted around him and his organs turned inside-out.
Color and shape spun in a blender as he staggered, finding himself facing a wall instead of his target. Confusion spun in his mind as he struggled to right himself and throw off the dizziness.
The wind whispered to Kaze. He spun, blindly lifting his sword before he even saw the threat. A ringing clang and a loud scraping screech filled the air. Kaze stared at the huge, mirrored blade of glass that pressed against his sword. It protruded from the man's palm, glistening as it caught the light from the night sky.
"Damn," the man said, his voice infuriatingly jovial and perfectly clear. "You've got good reflexes. With the whole wind shtick… Gentlewind, I take it?"
"Who are you?" Kaze demanded. "Why are you so loud?"
"Ash," the man replied, driving his palm-blade for Kaze's chest.
Kaze thrust his hand forward. Wind howled forth and slammed into Ash, hurling him back. His glass weapon snapped off his palm and he rose, a dozen feet away from Kaze. The two of them watched each other warily for a few brief instants.
Then Ash burst into motion. He bounded forward and dove.
He was wide open. Kaze swept his sword down for Ash's neck — and glass burst from his shoulder like an erupting volcano. It slammed into his blade and knocked it to the side, nearly tearing it from Kaze's hands.
At the same time, Ash thrust his other palm for Kaze's chest. The wind flowed around Kaze as he twisted to the side, avoiding the strike, and slammed his fist into the man's arm. Bone cracked. Ash snarled in pain. He grabbed at Kaze with his free hand.
A howl of wind gathered around Kaze and lifted him into the air, pulling him out of range. He raised his sword as he landed, shifting from foot to foot as Ash clutched at his broken arm. The glass fragments jutting from his shoulder cracked and fell away.
"You are powerful," Kaze said, his head tilting to the side. "Your death will aid me greatly. The wind will whisper so much louder once you are gone."
"I've still got one hand, two legs, and a dick," Ash replied. "And you won't be the first monster I put down with one arm left."
"Now look who calls humans monsters?"
"Difference is, I'm right."
"And how have you come to decide that?" Kaze asked.
"Because the one who wins is the one who gets to be right."
The corner of Kaze's mouth quirked up before he'd even realized what happened. Wind screamed in his ears and his features set.
He drew on its power. Let it pump through his body and dig through the magic that connected him to its voice. Then, with a roar, he released it.
His sword carved through the air horizontally, dragging through it like he was cutting through solid wood. A thick blade of twisting white energy gathered around the sword, twisting up from its hilt and reaching for its tip.
"Then I will be right," Kaze said.
The energy reached the tip of his sword. It screamed free of the weapon, carving through the air like a crescent moon and expanding as it traveled.
The white blade was easily twice as wide as Ash, and it moved with all the speed that his wind could muster. There was no room to dodge. Nobody could evade the wind.
There was only death.