The Rise Of A Porter

In the meantime, at an unknown place in East America...

Winds gently played around with sand, slowly urging it to leave its love for the earth and come fly in the sky instead. The sand eventually defied, but soon played along with the request and joined the wind to soar through the skies. Sun gleamed over as the wind got stronger and stronger, lift up more and more sand to form an entourage.

The following moment, the blue sky turned threateningly greyish-yellow as the sun rays found it harder and harder to penetrate through the thick foliage of sand. Soon the innocent dance of the wind and sand turned into a threateningly large sandstorm, threatening to devour everything in sight. It was the desert's way to stop a demon from ruining the order of the wastelands.

Yet the lone man dared to walk through the storm, one even the sun couldn't shut down. It seemed the desert wanted to uproot itself to prevent a man from going any further. But nothing it did could stop the man from moving forward towards his destination. The Storm didn't give up either and tried its hardest to stop the man from causing any more bloodshed than he already had, but as usual, nothing worked. It seemed as if the mightier the sandstorm got, the stronger the man's resolve became to defy its authority.

No matter how many pebbles, rocks, or even ginormous boulders got thrown in his way, the man simply didn't quit. He was bleeding. But weirdly enough his wounds healed as soon as they were inflicted upon him. The man would never stop again. Not when he was moments away from quenching his thirst.

He had been thirsty for years now, but it wasn't a thirst that could be quenched with water or any other liquid for that matter. It was a thirst of vengeance that would only quench when once he got rid of the person he hated with all his being. 

Soon after, the desert stopped revolting against the man who could even make death halt in front of him. As the storm quietened down, it revealed who the man in question was. It was the former Brigadier General of Alpha base.

He was no longer a man who would allow others to treat him as they saw fit. Let alone a non-sentient thing. He had survived for years in the harsh wasteland all on his own and the only thing that kept him going was the sweet satisfaction of taking revenge.

He had a long piece of fabric tightly wrapped around his head while his eyes were being protected by a special pair of sunglasses which was a gift from the goddess he served. His upper body was protected by a thin and tattered robe.

He wasn't wearing anything underneath the robe. As he came out of the storm, his buffed torso was revealed. His body was completely engulfed in dust from the head to the toe as his blood mixed with sand, slowly closing the wound he received from walking through the storm. His trouser had worn out but they still did what they were meant to do and protect him from nature's anger.

In his hands were two axes. Each of them was smeared in blood. At first glance, it would've seemed that the axes were good for nothing as it would've been the case for ordinary blades, but not for a weapon blessed by the Goddess of Death herself. In fact more blood he spilt with his weapon, the stronger he and his army became. 

Moments after the sandstorm died down, the General's army revealed itself. An army so intimidating, it could strike fear even in the hearts of the great emperors of the past. An army made up of monsters and humans of every shape, form and size. The ground trembled as an army of more than 10,000 soldiers moved around as a single being. Despite being dead, every step of theirs was in perfect harmony with each other.

The sound of their collective steps overpowered all the other sounds of the desert. The entire army had been unified as one. They shared one collective mind rather than using their own. A mind that had a single goal within itself: To defeat the enemy and honouring their master.

But it wasn't like this, since the beginning. The Brigadier General had to train the ones he killed to ensure that everyone was in complete sync. It was a pain to do so, but the Brigadier General wanted absolute order from his soldiers.

For years he was forced to roam around the wastelands. Doing nothing except survive. Killing monster after monster, human after human. While with every kill, a new recruit joined his army. But he didn't stop there. He wanted more... He wanted a bigger army, a better army, an army not even that basta*d Arnold could defeat.

Slowly and with insurmountable patience, he had finally achieved what he wanted. But before facing Arnold he wanted to test his strength out. However, he did not want to get Arnold's attention just yet, it would be like inviting death over for dinner. Hence he waited for him to leave the country before he made his move.

As if it was destined, Arnold soon left the country. The voice that his goddess had left behind with him, was the one to inform him of the fact. And the voice never told any lies. Thus following the voice's advice his plan went into action. One by one he took over three zones.

Things were going in his favour. But the syndicate soon realised that something was wrong and began sending more and more people to investigate the same. But he made sure that none of them returned. After all that he was finally ready to take on his next target: Zone 4. He wanted to make sure that the ones who kicked him out paid the price for doing so and repent even after their death.

"Tick-Tock, Mr Ling... tick-tock..." He laughed like a maniac as he kept walking.

***

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