[Branded Warriors] Prologue

Prologue
When dreams shatter, when lifelong ambitions vanish like bubbles, even with
the flesh and blood of comrades who have shared life and death as wings, one must still possess wings to fly to the sky. You know, I am
that kind of person.
That snowy morning, I left you behind, rootlessly searching for my own destiny. That
moment of bloodshed, you left us behind, ruthlessly searching for your own dreams. I know,
you are that kind of person.
One gentle, wanting to lean on; one lonely, wanting to be embraced. Sword, tell me, how should I choose?
***
Prologue The Black Swordsman
A dark sky shrouded the earth, and the dim starlight coldly watched the atrocity unfolding on the hill. It was a
small caravan that had been ravaged. The stench of blood carried on the wind attracted packs of hungry wolves from the wilderness to the campfire
. After paying the price of over a dozen corpses, the wolves dared not advance further, instead gathering
around the hill and howling incessantly. Two bandits, one fat and one thin, were rummaging through the scattered corpses, searching for
belongings. They occasionally peered into the only tent that hadn't collapsed at the edge of the dense forest. The man's lewd laughter, the sounds
of flesh colliding, the woman's sobbing, and the silhouette of the oil lamp cast on the tent surface all made the two men's blood boil
.
"Damn, I wonder when the boss will be done?" The fat man swallowed hard,
the thought of ravaging a beautiful woman in the dead of night was enough to make him unbearably aroused. "Don't let him
die like last time!"
"With that face, those tits, that ass, I don't think it'll be our turn for a few days. He'll probably be dead by then!
Let's grab as much as we can and find a girl in the city to have some fun." The skinny man looked at the constantly moving
silhouette, like a hybrid animal, and continued to turn over the corpse with regret.
"Ferren, where's Tucker?" The fat man fired a burst of crossbow bolts at the restless wolf pack and asked.
Half of the bullets froze into ice, while the other half burst into flames. The eerie sight made the wolf pack howl and disappear
into the darkness. "There are so many wolves, that's a bit unusual."
"That killer, two third-tier swordsmen escaped, he went to torture them, that's his hobby!" The skinny man
glanced at the pack of wolves lingering at the edge of the shadows, then turned to look at the figure still swaying in the tent. "We're
not afraid of these beasts, but if we disturb our leader, we'll be in big trouble."
"Damn it, I'm going to see that disgusting thing again. Oh, wait a minute..." The fat man spat, prying
off a few silver teeth. "In the name of the Lord of Death, Hammond..." The skinny man half-squatted, chanting as
he drew a rune in the ground. He took out a bone-colored dagger covered in intricate patterns, carefully cutting his finger.
The dagger, upon touching the blood, seemed alive, writhing and greedily sucking Faelen's blood. When the bone turned bright red
, the skinny man ripped the dagger away and plunged it into the rune. The dagger let out a resentful hiss, fading back to
bone color within the rune. The fat man cast a healing spell on Faelen, and... Looking at the corpses rising one after another around him, he cursed again.
Anyone who saw the person they had just killed standing up with dead fish eyes would feel a little uncomfortable. Having recovered under the healing spell
, Feren sheathed his dagger and looked at his army with satisfaction. Since that moment, they had all
discovered that they suddenly possessed miraculous abilities. Fat Ryan gained wondrous magic, the murderous Hack's strength
advanced, and he himself gained the ability to enslave corpses. The Beast Leader's abilities were at their peak, and the abilities of the "Red
Hat"
Brigade's second team had improved rapidly, showing a trend of surpassing the first team.
The corpse slaves patrolled around the camp. The skinny and fat men sat around the fire, watching silhouette pornography, chatting idly.
The night was deep when suddenly the wolf pack stirred in the darkness. "Hack's here..." The skinny man glanced into the darkness.
"Huh?" "
What's wrong?" Ryan asked. Feren's perception had reached the third level, and Hack's combat skills had
reached the master level; even ten third-level opponents would be a piece of cake for him.
Amidst their confusion, they saw the muscular man, Hark, charging towards them, his face contorted with panic and terror, as if
some unknown monster were lurking behind him. His frenzied run smashed several corpse slaves in his path to pieces.
"Heal...!" Hark cried out anxiously to Renn, uttering a single word before a line of blood appeared on his
steel-like, bare waist. He was then severed in two, his lower body dragging its intestines as he reached the two men, his upper body barely
touching the ground. The aura of death once again enveloped the camp. "Damn it! What happened?!" the fat man 　　shouted at Feren,
wiping the blood from his face , his voice a mixture of bravado and fear. 　　 "Black... a black man, and... my corpse slaves seem to be going a bit out of control!" the skinny man said 　　, his face now deathly pale. 　　 *** 　　 It's so noisy tonight, but I'm really enjoying myself. I'll teach those itchy-faced guys a lesson later. A light 　　sweat is already forming on my forehead. It's been so long since I've indulged like this. I've lost count of how many times I've ejaculated, probably seven or eight times 　　. She's truly a beauty! I never expected to get such a good thing from this raid. 　　The folds in that deep, dark passage seem like countless living creatures constantly licking and squeezing his penis. Sometimes, with each 　　thrust, they transform into fiery rings, tightening around his burning dragon. Looking at the woman beneath him, her tear-streaked face 　　and pained expression reignited his fire. He gripped her full breasts tightly and 　　thrust forcefully. "Damn! They're really big!" Looking at the white flesh squeezing from between his fingers, feeling 　　the fullness as he kneaded her, the tingling urge to ejaculate was almost there again. "Later, let her get hard before we go again." 　　Gazing into the woman's dazed eyes and her face flushed with desire, he unconsciously sped up... Without warning 　　, the woman's already limp body began to tremble uncontrollably. Her two tender, white thighs, draped over the man's shoulders, suddenly 　　tightened, clamping around his neck. Her toes, coated with henna juice, curled inward with force, and her unconscious moans 　　gradually rose in pitch. Jack felt his head being enveloped by a soft, tender mass of flesh, tightly kneaded and pressed. The woman 　　screamed, and gushing streams of hot fluid poured onto his glans. Feeling the woman's trembling body and the intoxicating sensation...

He pounded and kneaded, "Feeling good, huh, you were saying no just now... How many times is this? Feeling amazing, huh? Oh... Oh
, I'll shoot it all into you!" The man was making his final thrusts, preparing to unleash his burning passion...
Suddenly, he froze. He heard a chilling moan, then a bone-chilling coldness made his
physical reactions vanish abruptly. The pent-up anger and the inexplicable chill combined to create an uncontrollable killing intent that sent
shivers down his spine. Which bastard should he tear to pieces this time? He grabbed something and hastily wrapped it around
his lower body, pulled back the curtain, and shouted in a deep voice, "What's wrong?" Then he saw hell. 　　 Renn knew about the Butcher "Tucker's" abilities. His rock-like muscles weren't just for show
; 　　ordinary swords, swordsmanship, and even magic couldn't harm him. The only ones who 　　had ever left a mark on him were the beast Jack and Roddy, the great swordsman of Silverken City. The latter had struck him seventy-two times, 　　leaving only a three-inch wound, which Renn then dismembered with a single punch to the chest. 　　 "What's his background?" Renn stared intently at the darkness, asking Ferren again. 　　 "Black...so terrifying!!" Ferren seemed to be trapped in a nightmare, his eyes fixed on the direction Tucker had come from 　　. The wolf howls there had stopped sometime ago, and the thick darkness lay dormant like a monster. 　　 "Damn it, Ferren!" The fat man slapped the skinny man, making him stumble. 　　 "Ren! A second-tier swordsman! Some of the corpse slaves are getting out of control," Ferren reported, regaining his senses 　　. 　　 What a joke, second-tier? Receiving a confirming look from Faerlen, and staring at Tucker severed in two, the fat man felt 　　a sense of absurdity. 　　 The two glanced at the tent, now ablaze with desire, exchanging glances—flight or fight? 　　 Just then, they heard a monstrous howl, and a swordsman clad in black robes, with a single, ethereal eye, 　　stepped out of the darkness. "What a beautiful night!" he said in a deep voice, flashing a smile that, in the flickering firelight 　　, sent a chill down their spines. The howl came from the corpse slaves in unison. They stood frozen 　　, howling to the sky, the inhuman voice conveying two words with uncanny clarity: "Sacrifice!!" Then, 　　with incredible speed, they lunged at the swordsman… 　　 a sword, a massive black sword . The blade, 　　 twice their height, swiftly sliced through the corpses, and the corpse slaves, like moths to a flame, plunged one after another 　　into the black meat grinder. 　　 The fat man and the thin man exchanged a glance; if not now, when? 　　 Thunder orbs and dark swords coalesced in their hands, 　　 then their heads shattered, and the out-of-control magic exploded, tearing apart most of their bodies. A blood-soaked dance filled the air, 　　making this eerie night seem even more like hell. 　　 "Butcher" Tucker's upper body sprang from the ground, cracking like rubble. Countless muscle 　　fibers bulged from his body, binding the two remaining fragments. 　　 The corpse slaves were reduced to pieces, some of the more intact limbs twitching and writhing on the ground. 　　 Seeing the three broken bodies slowly merge into a four-armed ball of flesh, the black-clad swordsman 　　spat, "Tch, really troublesome." "Oh! Oh!" the ball roared, then sprang to the ground, 　　leaving countless pieces of flesh and blood in the crater. It shot towards the swordsman at high speed, blue lightning and green- 　　black energy appearing in its hands. The crossbow the swordsman fired struck it with a clanging sound, then was deflected 　　. 　　 "Heh heh!" The swordsman grinned, his gleaming white teeth standing out starkly against the side of his held-up black sword 　　. A magical roar accompanied a chilling metallic cutting sound, and a piercing scream echoed throughout the camp… 　　 *** 　　 Jack saw the carnage, broken bones, and entrails scattered on the ground. He saw his three henchmen, forming a strange ball of flesh, radiating 　　magic and battle aura, hurtling towards the black-clad man, only to be slashed back at an even faster speed. He saw 　　the enormous sword, the black greatsword, the blood-soaked camp, the disgusting monster, the demonic man— 　　a scene he could never have dreamed of. Hell, those were the first words that surfaced in his mind. 　　 Tucker slammed heavily to the ground, the massive wound from top to bottom making his round body appear as if it had grown a 　　gaping maw, from which black clots of blood mixed with entrails continuously gushed. 　　 "Ooh, ooh," it growled, its body disintegrating at a visible speed, pieces of flesh constantly 　　falling from its body. "Squeak!" Another piercing scream rang out as the ball of flesh exploded. In the bloody light 　　, Tucker, with only half his face remaining, lunged at Jack, who was closer, like a blood-red spider with a human face 　　. 　　 "Hmph!" Jack drew a slender silver sword, took a step, and with a series of swift thrusts 　　, stabbed Tucker from a distance. After the whistling sound of the sword cutting through the air, the ball of flesh was riddled with holes and fell helplessly to the ground, trembling. 　　 "Friend!" Looking at the swordsman who was about to leave, Jack struggled for a moment before shouting, "In 　　my territory, you killed my man. You should leave something behind, otherwise 　　how can I, the Second Captain of the Red Hats—Jack—face people after this?" 　　 "Red Hats? Never heard of them!" The swordsman sheathed his sword and replied coldly. 　　 "Kill!" Jack roared, bending his knee, dragging his sword, and pushing off the ground, shooting towards the swordsman like an arrow 　　. The wind from his high-speed movement cut like knives against his naked body. The pent-up anger and fear from before transformed 　　into a raging killing intent. He could see the crisscrossing scars on the swordsman's face and the slightly mocking smirk. Then, he 　　suddenly stopped. Seeing the astonishment in the swordsman's eyes, he couldn't help but think smugly, " 　　Let's see what his expression is when I rip it out." After a rapid stop and landing, he swept a large chunk of earth with his sword towards the swordsman. With a loud shout of " 　　Break!", the rapier, enveloped in milky-white battle aura, pierced the earth with a strange tremor. Thinking of the shredded 　　muscles and tendons, the sword slicing through his flesh, his body reacted again. Clang, 　　 clang… a series of crisp metallic clangs made him cry out, hastily rolling backward. 　　In a battle between masters, the most important thing is judging the opponent. Jack was certain he could kill his opponent with that unconventional sudden stop and the improvisational technique. 　　But the giant sword that appeared in the dust, the shield-like giant sword, made his heart…

A chill ran through him, and then, with sharp eyes, he noticed the blood seeping from the swordsman's lips. His eyes reddened, and his throat
burned uncontrollably. The unknown enemy is the most terrifying, and aside from rich combat experience and a massive weapon,
his opponent seemed to possess no extraordinary abilities
. A swordsman who couldn't even withstand battle aura couldn't be that terrifying.
He could be used for defense, but for offense, wielding such a huge sword... Hmph, he'd
just finish him off in the gap between two attacks.
Come on, watching the approaching swordsman, he licked his lips, and his entire body glowed with white light…
***
Jack realized his mistake. First, he had underestimated the sword. Any armor and battle aura
were useless against its blade. But even more terrifying was the man clad in black soft armor, his face covered in scars. That wasn't
swordsmanship for fighting; the sheer ferocity of the sword's wind directly overwhelmed his battle aura. A mere glancing blow
would have cost him an ear; if he were struck… the terror of impending death, the surging blood, the rising killing intent
—Jack had never felt such a urge before. Since he was twelve, when he infiltrated that manor and used his own
weapon to pierce and defile the high and mighty lord's wife, he had never felt such a desire. He was now
as hard as iron.
He rushed into the tent, threw out the woman, and blocked the sword's momentum.
Watching the swordsman wrap the woman's body in his black robe and throw her to the ground, he stood at a safe distance, assumed the standard sword-fighting
stance, and politely said, "Jack the Beast, Second Captain of the Red Hat Brigade!"
"Gus!" the swordsman quietly announced his name, a hint of respect now in his eyes.
Then the fight resumed. Jack leaped high, launching an attack on the swordsman's left (his
only target). Using his fighting spirit on his feet, he doubled his speed. Just
before the fierce slash arrived, he suddenly kicked off with his left foot, his body miraculously changing direction in mid-air.
The satisfaction of victory far outweighed the pain of his fractured bones. He felt the sword pierce his opponent's cheek; he would then smoothly slice
his opponent's head open, a feeling of satisfaction tinged with regret—a feeling reminiscent of that year's rape and murder. At that moment,
after a deep, teeth-grinding crack, Jack's head was smashed to pieces like a watermelon. The last thing he saw
was the beastly glint in his opponent's eyes. "Not human," were the words that filled Jack's mind before he died.
In the instant the blade pierced his cheek, Guts slightly tilted his head, subtly altering the direction of the sword with his teeth, and
then, with his left hand's iron wrist, smashed the enemy's head to pieces after the cheek was pierced.
A cold, crescent moon appeared from nowhere, and the camp, which had been bustling for half the day, suddenly fell silent, except
for the campfire still burning brightly. S pulled the rapier from his mouth, swallowed hard, and pulled the cloak from the woman's body
, preparing to turn and leave. The forest wind playfully tousled the woman's disheveled hair, and
Gerstaff froze, as if petrified.
The ravaged woman lay limply on the ground, her jade-white body covered in red marks.
Two rosy nipples still stood proudly atop her full breasts. Her violet hair was disheveled over her shoulders and chest, and
her delicate face, still flushed from the afterglow of her orgasm, was brimming with tears. Her bewildered and helpless eyes were glistening with confusion. Light shone through her long, smooth legs,
which lay limply open, the messy grass a chaotic expanse. The cold night wind made her body tremble, causing
waves of her breasts to rise and fall, and the tender red mound between her legs was faintly visible.
That strikingly similar face, that identical gaze—memories surged up like swamp gas in a cesspool.
A massive turbulent current of fear, despair, anger, and love made him tremble.
Fire, fire—if only the fire could ignite, perhaps the pain would cease. "Scarlett!" he growled
, and pounced on the woman…
***
"Ah!" "Oh!" "Oh!" The woman's screams and moans echoed through the wasteland again. Her
body, still lingering from the afterglow, was once again pierced by immense heat. She instantly collapsed, suddenly wrapping herself tightly around
the man like an octopus, tilting her head back and thrusting her chest upwards to facilitate his invasion. Her white thighs gripped
the man's vigorously moving, dark buttocks tightly, her bright red big toes pointing high, her lower body moving wildly and uncontrollably
to meet his thrusts. The gushing nectar made the splashing sounds grow louder and louder in the night. "Ah!" "The woman let
out a startling scream. The intense climax made her cling even tighter to the man, a torrent of fluids
gushing onto his penis. The tightness of their passage intensified uncontrollably. She knew no one could escape
her climax. Sure enough, the man also reached his peak. His hand, gripping his sword, finally tightened its hold on her buttocks
, his lower body pressing firmly against her genitals. The volcanic ejaculation caused her to let out another high-pitched, pleasurable scream.
'So good!'" "In gratitude, in the name of the Apostle of the Hand of the West, I grant you eternal death."
Initially a female voice, it gradually transformed into a male voice. A strange voice echoed from the woman's lips, her fair skin
being replaced by black, bulging muscle blocks, her body swelling continuously, four thick arms extending from her sides
… Moments later, the beautiful woman transformed into a gigantic monster, its gaping maw now emitting
a mixed male and female voice: "Black swordsman who relentlessly hunts us, remember, the one who took your life is…" the two-faced man, "Fei
Te." He then forcefully turned him into mincemeat.
"Boom!" Fett stared in utter astonishment as his body snapped in two. The immense pain and powerful recoil
forced Guts out of his embrace. "It hurts like hell!"
Guts spat, closing his left hand, which had fired the cannonball. "Every time I encounter you guys, this hurts like
hell." He picked up the greatsword from the ground, pointed it at his neck, where a strange symbol was carved, bleeding profusely.
"Don't kill me! I'll trade this for you! Spare my life!" Seeing the approaching swordsmen,
the heavily wounded Fett pleaded incessantly, then spat out a
round ball of flesh.
"Behelit!" Guts' eyes narrowed instantly. "Summon them! Summon them, and I
'll spare you!"
"That…that doesn't make sense, I can't do anything about it!"
"Then I can't help you either!" Guts plunged his sword into Fett's large eye, speaking coldly.
"No! No! I don't want to die! I don't want to die!" Fette saw the night sky above him suddenly
shatter, revealing a bright yellow vortex. A black dot grew larger and larger from its center, and countless
vengeful spirits formed a black hand that lunged at the dying Fette. Some even broke free and flew towards Gus, "Sacrifice
!" However, the vortex's invisible force field pulled them back. Fette, covered by the black hand
, quickly disintegrated. A small, old black man was pulled into the vortex, and the night sky returned to its original color. Only the exhausted Gus remained
, Behelet lay quietly on the ground, and the curse echoed in the air: "Your blood, your flesh, your
fear, your anger, are all ours."
******

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[Branded Warriors] Prologue

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