The Laughing Swordsman

Willow knew that her attack didn't have to hit, but so long as it took a bit of his time, then that was all that mattered. It wasn't going to be her bringing him down, but as a collective.

However, as her sword went forth, so did a gleam of white light. She suddenly found her sword shooting to the side. Before she could even do anything about it, her sword was lodged into one of her comrades' necks.

The victim of her sword began to gurgle. His eyes rolled back before blood uncontrollably spilled out of his mouth. Then, he fell to the floor.

Willow took half a second to recover. She knew that she didn't kill him and that there was nothing that could've been done.

After all, before Willow could even register the white gleam, her sword had already been deflected.

However, this did a huge mental blow to her psyche. But instead of thinking about it too hard, she decided to turn it all into anger against Vicar.

And so, she resolutely attempted to fight once more.

Willow put her hand on the flat side of her blade before it snapped out.

Vicar responded with his own blade. A familiar crescent moon shape appeared.

Two violent clangs rang out.

And Willow's sword shot up high into the sky, far away from the battlefield. Her hands were shaking violently, in tremendous amounts of pain. There were clear tears overtop and the skin that was supposed to be coating the hand was mostly peeled off.

Her wounds slowly and painfully bled, like they were melting away.

At this point, even if Willow wanted to, she could not properly wield a weapon.

Vicar killed several people right in front of her, giving her a strong sense of helplessness.

Soon, there was only one person left on her side.

Willow resolutely decided to give up her life. She lunged forward with the intention of constricting Vicar's movement. Even if it was only one second before she died, she would proudly die giving that second.

However, Vicar's body elusively shifted out of the way. Willow ended up stumbling forth with her arms outstretched but completely missed the target.

A young man had been swinging his sword down, trying to hit Vicar. However, when Willow appeared in front, his sword froze in place.

It was only for a second, but it was a second too much.

The man's head flew off. His neck began spewing blood as it toppled over.

Willow fell to her knees, losing all hope.

She grimaced in shame as all the people that had been sacrificed along the way had all been for naught. Her eyes closed.

And a greatsword pierced straight through her heart.

Willow's body tilted backwards, but could only get so far as it was forcefully propped up by the greatsword.

As critical as this injury was, it wasn't enough to kill her. The strike was very clean, thus hardly any blood seeped out. Only until the sword was pulled out, would death fast approach.

Vicar simply looked at her.

"It appears I am the fool."

Willow's eyes slowly opened. She grit her teeth with pure hatred and forced out the words.

"You won... how are you the fool."

Vicar shook his head.

"What have I won?"

He gestured with his bloody free hand.

"Everyone except you and me is dead. They have all died. And for what?"

Vicar narrowed his eyes.

"All of this fighting. As though there was some purpose behind it."

Willow's eyes widened. They were bloodshot.

"YOU DID THIS. YOU ARE THE REASON."

A small frown formed on his face.

"What? Because I have white hair and the person that did it also has white hair? I guess that must mean we are the same person."

Willow had an ugly frown on her face.

"If it wasn't for you all... this never would have happened."

Vicar's furrowed his brows.

"Sure. Perhaps not. But why exactly did this have to happen? What happened to how we helped one another before?"

He let out a soft sigh.

"Our group was responsible for creating countless homes while yours provided food during the harsh winter."

Vicar's tone dropped.

"Yet who knew all of that goodwill we all had towards each other, whether we had different hair colors or not..."

His eyes closed.

"Could fall apart so easily."

Willow spat out a mouthful of blood.

"If it wasn't for you all capturing us, then this never would've happened."

She clearly venomously hated Vicar.

In response, Vicar simply raised an eyebrow.

"Perhaps. Capturing everyone was a little out of hand."

Willow shouted hoarsely.

"Of course it was out of hand!"

She began to feel dizzy, especially because her heart couldn't pump blood properly anymore. Because of being stabbed and all that.

Vicar took a deep breath.

"My sister was killed by someone. The only thing my mother saw was someone with black hair. And so, she attempted to capture everyone to find the culprit."

Willow's expression twitched.

"So what? That doesn't justify anything!"

Vicar did not seem perturbed.

"The person responsible was found. But as the prisoners were being released, they killed the guards that released them."

Willow's eyes were as fierce as before.

"They deserve it!"

Vicar sighed.

"In the end, it led to a full blown war where the sides were entirely dependent on hair color. Innocent children were killed and tortured just because they had white hair. I saw one, not older than ten years old muttering to himself and trembling in pain as all of his skin was torn off."

Willow did not respond.

And so, Vicar continued.

"I first thought that there were only a few select people that decided to act out of line. The kinds of people that wouldn't even stop to think a little bit."

He frowned.

"Then, I thought that only half of the people thought that way."

His tone noticeably dropped.

"Then, I thought that there were still a few people that could be open-minded, and understand that things weren't simple."

Vicar opened his eyes.

"Then, I thought, at the very least you."