At First Kill

October 19, 2017

The smell of death poured out along the battlefield.

I hear nothing but the clashing of swords and faded shrieks. Blood stained my blade as I slice through the heart of men. The battle started with my war cry into a Greek army, leading my loyal Amazons into a bloodbath.

But that was two days ago. Yes, two long suffering days of eternal fighting, all to rebel against men-dominating societies. That was the main goal of an Amazon. Kill the rotten who have wronged, and recruit the ones of innocent. No men, all women.

My warriors, the girls I’ve trained for this day, kept falling under the hands of Greeks.

But the Greeks fell faster.

I look to my right and notice one of my younger soldiers struggle against a bloody brute. She was fifteen, four feet, eleven inches. The brute was basically on top of her.

I dodge my current opponent’s attempt to slice my head, and jabbed my sword into his neck. Hot blood poured out, staining my black hair with a devastating red. I remove the sword and sprinted towards my comrade.

I will not see a young girl’s death today.

I leapt so agile and swift that the brute didn’t hear me breath. He couldn’t hear me at all after my sword went directly through his brain. The man tumbled to the ground motionless, he was only a sack of flesh now. I gave a grunt as I pulled my sword from his head.

“My lady, thank you,” the young Amazon said.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” I replied “Thank me after we win this battle.” My little warrior gave me a determined nod and raced back into the sea of death.

My bruised fingers clench the handle of my cursed blade. I hear rapid footsteps heading toward my direction.

Another challenger.

My eyes flared red, a sign my colleagues say when I’m ready to kill; hence me earning the nickname “She-Devil”.

I am Alkaia, seventeen year old general of the Amazon clan, loyal subject to Queen Andromache, and the deadliest girl you will ever cross blades with. An Amazon is raised on nothing but the anger and hatred towards men.

I’ve never spoken to a man in my life and yet my blood boils by the thought of them. Stories of how men beaten and molested helpless girls have been implanted in my brain since age five. They are pathetic excuses of a human, nothing but greed and pride are inside a man’s brain.

It is my duty and honor to slaughter those wretched pigs. It is my one way of life. I was born to kill and I will die doing it. I turn around to face my new opponent, eyes narrowed to the ground. My shoes dug into the dirt as I gripped my weapon tightly. Another death will be certain by my hands.

 

At least, that’s what I thought.

Blue eyes met mine. Water crossed fire. And an Amazon general fell.

 

Fell in love that is.






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