Memoir Inanis

Blood dripped from my katana, pooling on the ground around the cold, lifeless body at my feet. It wasn't the first time I had killed, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. I wiped the blade clean with practiced efficiency, the motion as automatic as breathing.

The job was done. Another bounty fulfilled. Yet, as I stared at the body, the familiar hollowness returned. Why didn't it feel like enough? The echoes of my past, hazy and incomplete, gnawed at the edges of my mind. Memories of another place, another life—shadows that never quite came into focus. The only clarity I found was in the hunt, in the fleeting moments when my blade connected and silence fell.

What a shallow man he had been. Yet even as a psychopathic mass murderer, guilt was a luxury I couldn't afford to indulge in. I turned away, heading back to my makeshift home in the cursed forest. The air there was thick, oppressive, each breath a struggle. Dim light filtered through the gnarled branches as if the forest itself hesitated to reveal its secrets. Any bounty foolish enough to enter the forest ended up the same: dead.

I was the forest's curse, and tonight, someone else was about to fall victim to it. Tightening my grip on my blade, I moved forward. The familiar hilt grounded me, a small comfort amidst the chaos. My target was close. Tracking was often considered the hardest part of a bounty hunter's job, but for me, it had become second nature—a skill I almost enjoyed.

The man's tracks were easy to follow; he'd made little effort to cover them. He had taken on a new identity but remained a soldier, curiously sticking to the very life he had tried to escape. I bided my time, waiting for him to be alone. A group confrontation would only complicate matters. At some point, he must have sensed he was being followed but lacked the certainty to act on it.

His decision to confront his pursuer worked in my favor. He walked to an open grass field under the cover of darkness. By the time he stopped, the moon hung high—it was nearly midnight.

"COME OUT! I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE!" His voice boomed as he hefted his enormous battle axe. "YOU'RE NOT THE FIRST TO COME FOR ME, AND YOU WON'T BE THE LAST!"

Confidence radiated from him. His scars and stature told of countless battles. But no matter how strong he was, there was a reason I was known as the ghost bounty—the only one of my kind.

I stepped out of the shadows, katana in hand, ready to face whatever came next. Now that I stood before him, I realized just how massive he was. At least 6'8", his bulging muscles barely contained by his armor. Compared to him, I was an ant. His expression wasn't what I expected. Instead of anger or bloodlust, he looked... heartbroken.

"Aren't you just a kid? Sixteen, maybe eighteen at most?" His voice softened, incongruent with his size. "I swear on my life, I'll never forgive whoever sent you. You don't have to do this. Come with me. I've got a son about your age—you could be friends. I'll protect you from anyone who comes after you. Just... don't do this."

"Sorry, old man," I replied, taking a battle stance. "This ends here. Nothing you say will change that."

His face fell. "I'll make it quick, then," he whispered.

Before I could react, he raised his battle axe high and closed the distance between us in an instant, swinging down with terrifying force. If I'd hesitated for even a moment, I'd have been pulverized without ever realizing what hit me.

His movements defied logic. A man of his size should have been slow, lumbering—an easy target. But he moved like a predator, his massive frame a blur of muscle and steel.

The axe came down with a ferocity that shook the earth beneath my feet. Each swing carved through the air with a deadly whistle, forcing me to dodge with every ounce of speed I could muster.

My breaths came quick and shallow, the world narrowing to the dance of blade and axe. I couldn't parry; his strength would shatter my defenses in an instant. This wasn't a fight of equals—it was survival.

 My mind raced, grasping for any strategy that could give me an edge. I hated the solution I came up with, but it was the only way.

I let myself falter, stumbling as though I had lost my footing. It was a gamble, one that could end with my death in seconds. The old man saw his opening, his massive axe coming down in a final, crushing swing. But then he hesitated—just for a moment.

The idea of killing someone the same age as his son must have struck a nerve. He'd been manipulated, his kind heart used against him.

That hesitation was all I needed. Timing was everything—too slow, and I'd be dead; too fast, and he might catch on. I took my chance, driving my blade into his neck.

The old man staggered, dropping his axe as he clutched at his wound. Blood poured between his fingers. Yet, even in his final moments, there was no hatred in his eyes. He knelt before me, bowing his head to expose the back of his neck—a silent request.

It was the least I could do. With a swift, clean slash, I severed his head.

Barely ten minutes passed before it hit me—a wave of agony coursing through my body. His regrets, his memories, his emotions—they flooded my mind, a torrent of pain and sorrow. I felt the weight of his axe, the cries of those he failed to save, the warmth of his son's laughter—now silenced forever.

This was the cost of my existence, the curse I carried. Every life I ended left its mark—not just on the world but on me. Their regrets, their pain and their unfulfilled dream. They became mine, searing into my soul like brands on flesh.

in some twisted way I came to crave this suffering. It was the only genuine feeling I could feel. It became my only driving force in a bleak existence such as mine.

His memories hit me like a wave, drowning me in a torrent of emotions. The weight of his axe, the cries of those he couldn't save, the hollow joy of fleeting victories—all of it became mine. I staggered under the force of it, my blade trembling in my hand. He had been a man of honor, a protector. And I had cut him down.

Yet, even as his body lay still, his expression betrayed no hatred. There was only peace, a quiet acceptance that I couldn't understand.

I sheathed my sword, hands trembling. Another bounty down, another ghost added to the list haunting me. The cursed forest seemed darker now, the shadows heavier.

"Not much further," I muttered, my voice hoarse. There was always another target, another fight. And with each step, the hollow inside me grew.

For now, it would have to be enough.