Skin of the Sinless (Part 1)
Chapter 1: The Purity of Corruption
A naked holy man stood knee deep in snow on frostbitten legs in front of a tower he did not believe existed. It was a tower of legend that was forever moving that sat atop of a snowy mountain scape for the time being, and was said to grant a wish to whoever reached the top. A gust of icy wind cut into his skin scar covered skin like the many blades that did the same during his holy crusade reminding him of his duty. The duty now halted by the seven window stone tower he had only heard from those he had slain.
The holy man’s true name had faded from the world as his infamy grew, and had been long forgotten by even himself. Some referred to him as Judgment, others as The Right Hand or simply The Holy Man, but he had come to know himself as Requiem. It was after centuries of putting those who suffer from sin to rest is when he heard a word tailored to his existence. Yet, the trust in him and the one humanity had come to call ‘God’ dwindled away with each generation, no matter the path he took. For every life he slain to rid them of their suffering added another scar to his body making him appear more demonic than saintified.
Requiem wandered the world with only three items gifted to him by who he believed was God, himself so he may keep man from straying too far from their path. He wore an indestructible iron mask fixed with only two square eye holes that was anchored to his soul, giving him an uncanny variant of immortality. The silver claymore he held in his right hand could cut through anything, but left the greatest sin of those he slain scarred on his body. Lastly, a thorned rosary was wrapped around the guard of his blade and his forearm that bound the weapon to his soul so that it would forever be at his side.
He stood motionless with the flat of his claymore resting against his shoulder, pondering his existence before approaching the tower. It was the uncertainty of what could happen after entering a door place by God is what kept him from progressing forward. Requiem had spent countless years on an absolute path until he stumbled upon the legend, letting his curiosity take hold for the first time since he’d taken up his mantle. Lifetimes of acting as man’s shepherd for those who had strayed too far, or had become lost on their journey in search for the tower he had found himself. A goal other than his greater purpose that may end in damnation, even for one with an immortal soul.
He stepped forward resting the palm of his freehand against the splintering wooden door. He inhaled, embracing the long forgotten feeling he hadn’t felt in ages, then exhaled while pushing open the door to see an abyss into the unknown. He stepped through the doorway with the darkness immediately engulfing his sight. Requiem’s sight returned to see that a man had suddenly appeared before him on his hands and knees in search of something on the stone floor.
The man looked up at the naked man covered in scar tissue and frostbite with the look of fear and confusion on his face. His eyes widened even more when Requiem’s wounds glowed white before repairing itself with scarred skin. “Where in bloody hell do you all keep coming from?! I need to get the fuck out of here!” The man cried.
Requiem turned to point at the entrance, but saw no door. Instead a never-ending stone hallway stood in its place. Requiem stood in a hallway full of men and women feeling the floors and walls as if there were a hidden doorway beyond their reach. Those unmoving were assumed dead while others had missing limbs that never stopped bleeding.
Each one looked starved and depraved as if the luxury death had been taken from them like Requiem, himself. He saw nothing but suffering. Requiem let his claymore fall from his shoulder onto the man in front of him. The blade bisected him straight down the middle before coming to a rest at his side.
Requiem turned to face the others who were suffering while they continued to claw at the walls and floor. They were unphased by what he had just done. Requiem walked into the center of them with his presence being ignored. He cut them where they stood in one wide swing. Blood and viscera painted the walls and the floor as his blade stayed true.
Clean cuts were left on both sides of the hallway, but old scars weren’t covered by new. Those that should have been dead were still suffering. Which meant their hearts and minds were what kept them passing on.
Requiem stood over each one to help end their suffering. He first plunged his blade into their hearts, then crushed their skulls beneath his bare feet. He knew his task was done once he felt their greatest sins being carved into his skin, leaving new scars on top of old. Rivers of sorrow fell from his mask with each suffering soul he had helped pass on to the afterlife.
Requiem then stuck his claymore into the ground before resting his head against the pommel in a silent prayer. Once done, he used his foot to help swing the blade up. The flat side of his claymore found his shoulder once again before heading forth into the labyrinth.
The walls were forever changing with each step he took. New torches, doors, corridors and bodies would appear whenever something was no longer in sight. Requiem paid no mind to this since faith guided him to the top. The labyrinth took him down a set of stairs that went down several levels before ending at a desolate, torch lit hallway. Another path that seemed to go on for miles that shouldn’t have existed.
Requiem rounded a corner to see two men squatting over a lifeless body. One was scooping handfuls of brain into his mouth as if food hadn’t touched his tongue in ages while the other had his back turned to Requiem. All he could see was the other man chewing on the intestines that were being pulled out from the belly of the corpse whose heart was still pumping.
The men wore human bones as protection and cloaks made from skin. The man eating the brains noticed Requiem advancing in their direction. He immediately jumped to his feet, making the other turn around with intestines hanging from his mouth. The savage man standing charged Requiem, accidentally kneeing the other in the face as he excitedly stepped over the lifeless body to get to the fresh meal.
Requiem grasped his claymore with both hands, spun his body around to gain momentum and crushed the savage man’s head with the flat of his blade against the wall. The savage slumped to the floor leaving his brain matter on the wall with his eyes hanging from the sockets. Requiem plunged his blade into the top of savage’s head to piercing through his heart and brain to end his suffering.
Another scar was added to Requiem’s body followed by a tear falling down from under his iron mask. Scurrying to his feet, the other savage of a man slipped on the still beating heart of the one he was feasting on. He charged Requiem after regaining his composure. Requiem stepped forward while gripping the hilt of his claymore with both hands. He swung his claymore in an upward motion making the corpse slide off the end of his blade.
The body of the first savage man was flung in the direction of the one charging with great force. The savage man ducked under the body, lining him up for Requiem to drive his claymore in between his eyes. The savage man’s momentum brought him to a stop at the guard of the claymore as Requiem used their weight to bring his blade up to his ear. He listened to the last beat of the skewered man’s heart bring another tear to fall from under his iron mask as another sin scarred onto his body.
The body fell from the claymore in front of Requiem splayed open on the floor with a simple twist of his blade. Following faith, Requiem continued his trek through the labyrinth covered in the blood of all those he had slain with his claymore resting on his shoulder. A light, and the sound of children laughing, at the end of a seemingly endless corridor drew in Requiem like a moth to a flame. The light always guided the way, but the children’s laughter that was usually a good omen could be very deceitful in such a place. Requiem passed through the archway shielding his eyes.
He entered a chamber that didn’t make sense to exist in such a place. Requiem felt grass between his toes for the first time in decades as his eyes fell on a garden with a floral abundance he could not comprehend. He took another step scanning the chamber to see a small pond with children running around it in a playful manner while a little girl watched from a swing that hung from a small tree. Her black hair rested on the shoulders of her tarnished, yellow gown. The chamber had seven headless statues evenly placed around the room that stood with their arms at their sides and had a stone blade in front each one of them.
He looked up at the blue sky to see a shadowless head full of luscious curls blocking his view. It was suspended in the air by numerous chains in the center of the chamber whose eyes were always watching. “Oh, a visitor!” Yelled the little girl, waving to Requiem. Requiem made his way to her gripping the hilt of his claymore with his right hand while it rested on his shoulder.
“No threats here,” said the little girl easing the tension, “so please come and get cleaned up. We don’t get much company coming through here.” Requiem stopped before the pond, and the little girl spoke again. “Go ahead and step in. It won’t hurt you.”
Requiem stepped into the pond letting the blood wash away from his scarred skin and from in between the nooks of his equipment. The pond water stayed as clear as it was before he stepped in, and the children continued to play as if he didn’t exist. The little girl continued to swing back and forth without a care in the world.
“I can see where one would be confused at such a sight, but this was my wish and I’m glad you respected the rules. See, we had stumbled upon this tower by accident many, many years ago as we were fleeing from our father’s hunting hounds. He did not agree with our relationship…” The little girl froze in the middle of her story when she looked into the pond that Requiem sat in.
Requiem was looking up at the forever gazing head staring back at him, and at her all at the same time. He stepped out of the pond letting his claymore rest against his shoulder. Without a word, he made his way to a wooden door that sat across from the entry of the chamber.
Requiem stepped through the door into another chamber that had walls lined with weapons from the floor to the ceiling of all variations. There stood a man wearing steel chainmail that glistened in the darkness. A violet cloak obscured the face of the man standing on the opposite side of the room who seemed to be waiting for his next opponent.
“Do you have no decency in the face of Pride?” Bellowed the cloaked man. Requiem scanned the room before Pride spoke again while brandishing a rapier from under his cloak. “No matter. You being here alone shows that you are a great warrior, so I will pay no mind to your attire. EN GARDE!”
In a flash, Pride was in front of Requiem attempting to bury the rapier into his chest, but Requiem was quick with his heavy blade. Requiem gripped his claymore, using the guard of his blade to push the point of Pride’s sword above his shoulder before bringing it down in front of him with all his might. Pride jumped back just in time to avoid the attack.
Requiem followed up by bashing his shoulder into the cloaked man’s chest to throw him off balance. He then tightened his grip with both hands, and swung his blade wide. Pride ducked just in time to keep his head, but his weapon wasn’t as fortunate.
Pride circled Requiem with his back against the wall and his cloak flicking behind him. “Alas, a challenge has entered my chambers! No matter, you will fall like those before you,” teased Pride. He charged in for another attack with his hands concealed by his cloak. Requiem held his claymore with his left hand halfway up the blade bracing for the attack.
Swipe after swipe, Requiem blocked Pride’s hook tipped daggers with his claymore. Every spark off his blade was matched with splashes of blood as each attack grew faster. Pride closed the distance enough to dig four daggers in the Requiem’s back and two in his abdomen. He ended his flurry by driving what was left of his broken rapier under Requiem’s mask before kicking him away.
Requiem stepped back with his claymore falling limp at his side. He reached up for the handle of the rapier hanging from under his iron mask with his free hand. Pride watched Requiem slowly remove it from under his chin, letting it drop to the floor. He then started to glow under his chin making Pride seeth. “Your magic will not help you, for you cannot beat one as blessed and skilled as I!” Roared Pride as Requiem held his claymore in front of him at the ready.
Pride threw off his cloak revealing five other arms extending from his back holding weapons, and a head covered with eyeballs looking in every direction. The abomination had a mouth placed where the nose would be and holes on the side of his head for ears. Pride held two cutlasses with his normal hands, four short swords in the hands going around his sides and a morningstar being held by the longest arm overhead. All made from the finest metals and bedazzled in the most exotic jewels. Requiem charged in with his claymore overhead, making Pride cross his six blades to brace for the attack.
His claymore was swung down knowing it would cut through Pride’s blades with ease. Pride moved out of the way of a fatal blow, but not quick enough to save two of his right arms extending from his back. Pride drove what remained of the short swords in his left hands into Requiem’s right shoulder and in between his ribs. He followed up by using what was left of the two cutlasses to slice an ‘X’ into Requiem’s chest before throwing the blades to the ground at the end of his swing. Pride finished off his attack by ripping out the two hooked daggers embedded in Requiem’s abdomen.
Requiem grabbed hold of Pride’s right wrist before he could get away. He snapped the wrist like a twig making Pride grimace in pain. Pride’s extra arm overhead made Requiem’s knees buckle when the morningstar it held made contact with his iron mask. Pride stood triumphantly watching Requiem use his claymore to rise to his feet with his head hanging loosely on his shoulders.
The short swords sticking out from his side spewed spurts of blood with his every move. This did not stop the holy man. He reset his broken neck by sticking his fingers in the eye holes of his mask and violently jerking his head straight. His eyes fell on Pride who was standing across from him with a grin from ear hole to ear hole. He held one of the daggers that was lodged into Requiem’s abdomen.
Requiem’s intestines hung from the hooked tip of the blade while the other dagger laid on the floor not far from him. “Let’s see how you do without your guts you bloody bastard,” mocked Pride. With those words he started to disembowel Requiem where he stood. Requiem pried open his stomach with his free hand, and threw his entrails on the floor, covering his feet in a bloody heap. Pride gasped in disgust.
“You foul beast!” Exploded Pride with anger. He ripped a lance from the wall with one of his good hands as a new found fear coursed through him. Pride lowered his stance to charge Requiem once more. He drove the lance through Requiem’s heart who stood unphased with his claymore at his side.
“You cannot best Pride!” Cried the monstrosity out of frustration. His morningstar beat into Requiem’s head blow after blow, keeping him close so he could not use his weapon. Requiem pulled Pride closer by the collar of his chainmail making his many eyes grow wide. He reeled his head back, and bashed his iron mask into Pride’s face repeatedly.
The arm beating him with the morningstar became weaker after each collision with Pride’s skull until it went limp. Requiem dropped Pride’s disoriented body to the floor. Pride’s mouth was left a mess, and the majority of the eyes in the front of his head had exploded in their sockets. Requiem stuck his claymore into the ground next to Pride’s neck, looking down at the fallen warrior.
Pride spit a tooth up at Requiem as it bounced off his mask. Mocking Requiem, even in his last breath. “You show sympathy in the face of victory? Pathet…”
Requiem cocked his foot back, and kicked the side of Pride’s head. His silver claymore glided through Pride’s neck sending his head skipping across the ground into a formless ball of meat. Requiem slowly pulled the lance from his chest, then impaled it through Pride’s heart to end his suffering. A tear fell from under his iron mask. Requiem looked up as the word ‘PRIDE’ illuminated all over his body before disappearing, but the remaining scars still covered every inch of his body.