Monoui no Kaisen
Chapter 1

'Where does it all end, anyway?'

Two complete opposites clashed together in a timeless rage, thrashing and slashing at the other. Dark massed over one hill, a foreboding figure no better than seeing death itself roll in. Light was no better than the blackness, sweeping over a hill in a blanket of white, wraith-like forms, swords raised high and battle cries echoing.
' Where does the darkness end, where does the light end, and where do they meet? Do they meet at all?'
The two forces met in the valley that was lined with four-foot rock walls, and beyond those, a seemingly endless drop.
They clashed together like their parents, grandparents, and the ancestors before them had, dating all the way back to the beginning of life and time themselves.
' And what of this seemingly endless war?'
It seemed only hopeless, yet many fighters fought it just to end it, and just as many fought merely because it had been expected of them. Each soldier lived on the battlefield, and would die there as well.
A bleak and despaired future, yes, but it was all they knew.
' I am weary. We are all weary.'
For a moment, each side stilled, facing each other with in the valley. Standing, observing, some faltered as they wondered if it was worth it. But all thoughts ceased as the soldiers of each side simultaneously gave battle cries, rushing forward again with their weapons raised.
' And yet there is no rest for us; there will never be rest for us.'
There were few large dents in the battle lines, for each side had fought the other for so long that all tactics had been discovered.
'For this war has gone on since the beginning of time itself.'
Metal rang upon metal as an elven woman blocked a strike. Swiftly, she unsheathed her double kodachi blades all the way, the blades only slightly larger than that of a long dagger's. They glinted fiercely in the light.
Her body twisted, bringing about one with strength her opponent would not expect, and retracted quickly to deliver another blow upon the same place. With a deathly rattle, some of the links in the chain metal broke, leaving an area wide open.
However, as she made a move for her final blow, her darkly dressed opponent dodged at the last second- amateur's luck, she liked to guess- and swung his long sword around clumsily. She dodged swiftly, seeing the attack coming in from a mile away, and brought the right blade down. This time, she hit her mark.
In a nearly hasty rush, she pulled off his headband and drenched it in his blood, soaking the black material in red liquid. She looped it through the left side her belt, signaling one death. At the end of the battle, all the headbands that had been gathered would be counted up for casualties of the enemy. Allies found on the ground would have the same done, except that their headbands would go on the right.
She straightened and squinted her eyes against the light, watching the fight about her. It seemed she was the only one to be stuck with such an amateur, and for a brief moment, lines of fatigue and weariness lined her youthful face, seemingly aging it by years.
She caught herself in a moment of weakness, reminding herself that there would be no rest. Agilely, she dodged an arrow that came whizzing out of nowhere, and caught a tall form with a crossbow lurking behind the lines in the corner of her eye. However, as quickly as he or she had been there, they left.
Her mind had no more time to think on the matter as she quickly was caught in another battle, and this time a large battle-axe came crashing near her, the dwarf that wielded swinging it with a furious strength. It was slow, but far more powerful than her kodachi blades, and could most likely cut through them easily. Noting this, she sheathed them in fear of losing them.
Clearing all thoughts from her mind, the light-haired elven soldier dodged a second blow, jumping backwards from it as her feet carried her swiftly. Her short, thin frame easily weaved aside from blows as she fluidly moved backwards.
Suddenly, her back hit something hard, and she knew she was on the rock-lined edges of the valley. Sweat glistened on her forehead, matting the hair there. The axe came around for another blow, and she sidestepped. The battle-axe crashed down on the stonewall, quickly smashing a large portion of it to debris.
Terror swept through her for a brief moment, before she beat it down and dodged another attack. The dwarf that wielded the axe wasn't even winded.
He advanced and attacked to the side, and she jumped high over the axe, landing nimbly on her feet. However, her foot slipped slightly against the rubble, and she fell backwards. An outcropping on the cliff was her only savior.
The shaggy, wrinkled, battle-scarred face of the dwarf popped over the edge, broad shoulders squaring as he stared into her green eyes. Briefly, regret flashed in his eyes before he brought his boot down on one hand, smashing the fingers. She would not let go.
He smashed again, harder. She flinched slightly, and recoiled the hand quickly as he brought his axe around in place of his foot.
Dangling on one arm, she looked down and shuddered at the long drop, the many trees below her merely dots smaller than the pupils in her terrified eyes, pinpricks of black horror against the green.
She craned her neck back up to her executer. He reached down, grabbed her white headband and tore it off before pulling his axe back. Beating on her back, the sun shone lazily, and time slowed as it came down. Her hand recoiled reflexively once again and she began to fall.
However, a hand flew out of nowhere, grabbing her wrist after a second of falling. Her closed eyes cracked open, but she had no time to observe her rescuer as she was yanked up quickly and put on the ground.
Her heart was beating so hard she was positive it would burst out of her chest, and she breathed heavily. She looked up and saw her rescuer and the dwarf staring down, the tall form glaring down impassively at the shorter form of the axe-wielder.
With a yell, the dwarf surged forward, swinging the axe mightily. The tall form simply sidestepped the attack, unsheathing his rapier only enough to knock the dwarf out with the hilt.
She stared as he turned around, offering a small, very small, smile at her. He was tall and pale, white garb stained with blood. His hair was long, nearly mid-back length, and put back in a low ponytail. Black hair floated in and out of his eyes in the whispering wind, blue eyes contrasting sharply against it.
Immediately, she recognized his man features, yet observed his slightly pointed ears curiously. Was he one of the few part elf, part human soldiers?
Shaking her head, she pulled herself to her feet and looked sheepishly at the ground before her.
".thanks," she said hastily, stumbling over her words, shifting her feet as if to make sure the ground was still beneath her.
She put her hand out suddenly, as if suddenly remembering what remained of her manners. "Um, I'm uh, Eróthiel Naraithas."
Her eyes questioned him as he didn't stick his hand out, but she caught the shades of red on his pale skin. Quickly, she put her hand down, observing the silent, deathly form in front of her.
Silence was all he had to offer as his cheek-length bangs blew around his face, and she crossed and uncrossed her arms in annoyance. "Well?"
"Well what?" His voice was somewhat quiet, a small amount of amusement showing in it.
"Your name?" She attempted to control her irritation. Killing had always made her slightly irritable, even if she wasn't all that irate by nature.
He had no time to answer as another arrow spun out of nowhere, narrowly missing his head. Narrowing her eyes, she unsheathed her swords and held them up defensively, eyes darting.
No one came, and she scowled lightly in annoyance before a sword sliced out of nowhere, barely giving her time to block it. A human was on the other end of it, eyes hardened with determination.
The two stood for a moment, locked in place by the other's stare as the half-human, half-elf fought off another attacker. Suddenly, however, Naraithas let go and ducked on the sword, causing her unprepared opponent to stumble, but he regained his footing. Yet when he looked up, she was nowhere to be found.
Grinning ear to ear, she flashed next to him. "I can tell it would be a bad idea to hold back anymore."
And it was true; he was far better than most others she had fought in the past couple days, and she had been holding back as well. Before had been a mistake of hers, as she had held back too much.
The elf raised her blades and crossed them, straining her muscles as she did so.
"I am weary. I am sick of having to fight while holding back, so I will not do so any longer. Remember what you see now in your death, human."
Paling, the human got into a clumsy defensive stance. Other battles rang around them, ignoring the rare occasion about to happen. He knew of the secondary elf form; it was strong beyond reason, a tool that an elf had the chance to inherit, yet few had mastered. Even if mastered, it took a lot out of the user after one day of use.
Some who did not live on the battlefield, although they were few in number, believed it a myth, a legend of old about elves born with the power to change into something terrifyingly powerful. It was so much so that light users were forbidden to use it, but this one had no fear of consequences.
Some even said that only few elves were born with the power, due to a past that had existed before the beginning of time, a horrible, bloody past. And those who had the power were to be run from, no matter how strong one was.
But that was all talk, wasn't it...?
His hands began shaking, but his face remained calm as her bones began to crack and shift with change, and a black shadow cast itself over her, hiding her from view.
Soon enough, however, it cleared, and his eyes had barely enough time to register the horror before his head detached from the rest of his body, mouth open in silent mortification.
The half-human, half-elven rescuer had already been lost into the battle by that time.

* * *

Hours later, Eróthiel stumbled slightly as she entered the encampment, breathing hard. Her bare feet skidded and slid over the dirt, sandals long since broken in the fight. They had boots, once, but they had cost too much for each individual soldier.
Her chain mail clinked as she threw her sheathed swords on the dirt near a fire, dropping herself heavily onto the ground.
Blood was caked against her skin, only a small amount of it her own, and her nose wrinkled slightly at the smell. The warm, lazy air from before had turned quickly to chill at the setting of the sun, and she shivered slightly and brought her knees to her chest, arms wrapping around them.
Many were gone, washing the blood off of their skin and clothes. The red stains were often bright against the white, and although being washed furiously, pink was still left.
She sighed and stared into the flames of the fire as they licked at the air around them. Most likely, all the water near by was going to be crowded with people. It'd be best if she waited for them to clear, she thought as she laid her chin on her knees.
Exhaustion was wracking her small frame from the transformation she had made earlier. It had been forbidden among light users, but she had been too tired to care. No one had gotten a glimpse of her and lived, in any case.
She allowed her eyes to droop close as the day's events passed through the insides of her eyelids. Where had the strange man-elf gone, anyway?
Frowning, she opened her eyes, rubbing her fingers as if to make sure they were still there, and she thought of her near death. She would have to be more careful tomorrow, and hold less back. Silently, she berated herself for her stupid mistake.
It was rare, however, to have a large battle such as this one. Even the officials must have been getting tired of feuding...They'd even gotten cleaner clothes the day before, however, they were quickly stained.
Sighing once again, Eróthiel Naraithas climbed to her feet as the stars glinted down on her, and she stumbled to the nearest water. Her eyes were sharp, as every elf's was, but her feet were unsure in her exhaustion. Hair hung in her eyes, the headband long since missing.
She dunked herself in the water, not caring to undress, and scrubbed all the blood she could off.
Somehow, she knew that sleep would not come easy that night, the transformation bringing back memories that were never hers in the first place; bloody, gory memories of pain and death, of enslavement and terror and horror that seemed so real yet couldn't have been, for the war that was in those dreams differed far from the war being fought.
Perhaps it had not been a good idea.
But she was so incredibly tired, in more than one way...