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He could only stare at the foes in front of him as his allies retreated, his greatsword, piercing through the concrete of the street he stood upon the only thing keeping him upright, behind him he heard his sister's whimpers, he dared not look back, seeing her like that again would break him. Her arm, it lay only a foot away, severed at the shoulder.
It was her sobbing that finally spurred him into motion, their enemies advanced, those that hurt her were right in front of him and he was doing nothing, she was but a child, too young to be on the battlefield, but that went for all of them didn’t it?
He ripped his blade from the ground, gasping for breath as he stumbled and yet stood tall, the pain was gone, he couldn’t even feel the three arrows that sprouted from his back anymore.
“Well?”
His voice echoed across the battlefield, “You came here to kill us, so why don’t you try and finish the job?”
He chuckled, “I may stand alone now, but I think you’ll find that even with your numbers, I will still slaughter each and every one you, I will stain this battlefield in your blood and sacrifice your corpses to my father.”
He took a step forward, his Zweihander over his shoulder, “Come at me. All of you.”
A single rouge demigod strode forward, “Please, do you take us for fools? You stand on your last legs, I alone will be enough to en-”
Before he could finish, the brother relieved his head from his body.
For a moment, the battlefield was silent, until it was broken by the boy who stood before an army, and accepted death, for him and for them.
“So...?” he said, his voice eerily calm. “Who’s next?”
The opposing force, at least 300 strong, charged forward. And he rushed to meet them.
The first to reach him was struck down brutally and decisively, first his sword arm, then his shield arm, then the left leg and then the right. He finally severed the screaming torso’s head as he turned to his next opponent.
He swung his sword in a wide arc, cleaving through the fools who tried to surround him.
They were clearly unnerved but it was not enough, he stabbed one monster through the stomach, impaling the demigod behind it too. Then swung his sword around, smashing the impromptu sledgehammer into another demigod, the three exploded in blood and golden dust.
Some were beginning to back up, but another idiot decided to charge him still, not that he lasted long, the fools battlecry was cut off as his Zweihander cleaved the traitor clean in two.
The others were stumbling backwards, he pierced another’s heart and ripped his sword out, cleaving through the left side of his torso.
His grin was manic as he slaughtered everyone in his path. Normally, he took no pleasure in the brutality and pain he caused, it was a means to an end, one that would normally leave him sobbing in his sister’s arms as all he could see in the mirror was a monster, but it was that very sister that was now behind him, missing one of those arms and in terrible pain, and for that monstrous sin, he would enjoy these bastards suffering.
The majority were in full retreat now, but a few, either incredibly brave or stupid, still stood strong, the first he cleaved off both of their arms before stabbing them in the face with their own sword.
The next he cut through from neck to waist.
The third he just tripped, and let them impale themselves on their own xiphos.
He rushed the retreating demigods and monsters, hacking and slashing through them, even those who went down fighting could do nothing to him.
He finally came down from his battle high, his body littered with arrows and covered in tiny cuts, but not a single enemy combatant still lived.
His sword once more pierced the street, and he slid down to his knees, blood spilled from him in torrents, he should have been dead thirty times over by now.
The last of his strength left him, and he fell, collapsing on the ground in a sea of blood and golden dust of his own creation.
A shadow passed over him, at first he thought one of the bastards had survived, that he had failed.
Yet it was only his sister, tears streaming down her face as she looked at his broken form. At least, he thought, I get to see her one last time, one last blessing for a broken weapon.
She grasped his hand, begging, pleading, for him to live, but his strength was fading, and fading fast, he spoke what may well be his final words in this life, “Live for me, baby sister, do not fall as I have, live and keep living, I only expect to see you again when you have at last past from old age.”
She sobbed, screaming at him to just hold on, that help was coming, that everything would be okay.
But his eyes stopped seeing, and he let out a sigh, ready for the quiet embrace of death.
I am ready, lord Thanatos.