13's grip on the scythe only tightening after slaying 12 and 11, Neveresh fell to his knees and mumbling under his breath as the last of his creations were destroyed.
"Why, how!" Neveresh screamed at the towering thing in the armor, 13 a creature whose origins were a mystery even to him.
"Why now!" the malignant necromancer yelled again, seeing as it was the only thing he could do. His magic and creations spent and gone, 13 had done nothing after the failure of creating 14 only standing still like a statue until this day.
Where seemingly out of nowhere 13 had become a vicious warrior of legends with an old scythe in hand.
13 said nothing, Neveresh could never have thought that such a small thing would awaken something like that in the dormant 13.
"I am your father." such a simple sentence he had told to all his creations at one point or another, awoken a few small embers of memories that reignited like a roaring fire brought 13 to his senses.
He couldn't remember their names or faces, but he remembered their presence and the promises that he made to them.
His father, an indomitable knight who taught him honor and chivalry. And while 13 could not remember his father's face he remembered his smile, a wide and honest toothy grin that made anyone who saw it feel brave.
His mother, a wise mage who taught him compassion and wisdom. And while he could not remember her eyes he remembered her voice, a soothing and warm voice who made all who heard it feel safe.
And with these small specks of warmth and love 13 was able to awaken from Neveresh's control and with his freedom he cut down the monster and his creations like 13 knew his parents would.
13 did not wait and as Neveresh was going to yell once again 13 charged and sent his head flying off the necromancer's shoulders, with the swing of the scythe.
13 didnt turn away as he heard the now dead body slumped over itself, he allowed the grip he had on the scythe to loosen, until it fell out of his hands.
He trudged along, his legs felt heavy and it wasn't long until he fell face first into the stone floor of nevereshes castle.
Feeling his chest burning and starting doing an alien movement instinctively , 13 thought this was the end until he remembered what this movement was.
"I'm breathing?" 13's voice cracked like a twisted log in a roaring fire.
He laid there face down and took his first few breaths he had taken in over four years.
…
Falkner, vice captain of the templars had his sword drawn and shield up as he led his platoon forward slowly towards their quests destination.
He stood in front leading the charge as his men stood in a diamond formation five paces behind, surrounding the two caravans that held their provisions and two field agents to help the wounded.
As they trudged through the white sands, the air was neither hot nor cold and the wind never blew leaving the templars trudging through the dead damned dunes.
But there was never one complaint from Falkner or his platoon, a shining example of templar's stalwart nature, but it did help keep the less stalwart silent was the person who gave them this quest.
They had received this mission from the King of Soladarr himself, the monstrous Neveresh who had been plaguing Soladarr's western border for over four years, had been tracked down to this location.
Then Falkner signaled through practiced hand signals, they slowed from their pace then they saw it, a crumbling old fort of pure black stone. The dwelling of the mountrous necromancer, Neveresh.
An old fortress located in the Sundered Lands, a desert whose legends and truth were inseparable, it had been a two day journey and the horrid tales of this land made even the most stalwart think twice.
Neveresh, a master of dark arts and the twelve abominations of his own creation. One that deserved his title of destroyer, who sought to only deepen his knowledge of the dark no matter the cost.
Falkner and his branch of the templars had already made their battle plans, Falkner himself would break through the gate and take the necromancer and whatever traps he had planned head on while the others would surround the old castle, and make sure neither Neveresh nor his 12 creations escape.
…
Falkner left his platoon outside to get into their positions, and broke through the large wooden door making as much noise as possible to bring out the dark mage or one of his creations. Falkner was chosen for this quest because of his experience fighting necromancers and their ilk, they were arrogant and vain.
But as he rushed forward he noticed the quiet, Falkner surmised that neveresh might have been expecting him until he made it to the main chamber.
It was blood bath, but instead of horror Falkner found himself relieved, for he recognized the brutalised corpses.
"The eleventh and twelfth"
he spoke quietly, surprised by the wave of relief that knowing that the strongest of the creations of neveresh were gone and soon to be forgotten.
But he was shocked by the third corpse's identity, as he picked up the head of Neveresh by the rotting hair.
His face stuck in a look of pure anguish, shrugging to himself he dropped the head and was about to leave and tell his platoon to take what they could find until a noise finally reached his ears.
Breathing, knowing that no foul creation of dark arts could make a living creature Falkner's mind turned to the idea of prisoners.
"Hello?" the templar called out, but was only met with the sounds of weak and dry breathing.
Falkner pried at the walls and floor looking for where the poor soul could be until he found him.
He had stumbled upon it when he first came to the main room, he had thought it was a statue at first.
It was face down, a figure depicting a knight made from some horrid crimson metal. If standing the figure would be over eight feet tall and almost four feet wide, but the statue's strangest feature was that the arms and legs of the knight were far too thin like it would have harbored a skeleton rather than a man.
Falkner was distressed when he found out that the statue was in truth a set of armor and the hollow breathing from inside its crimson and bone white helm.
"What did he do to you?"
Falkner was horrified at the implications of the breathing armor, he had foolishly thought he had known the limit of cruelty that one man could do to another.
The breathing stopped for a short moment and then a voice like crumbling stone came from the armor.
"I don't remember." 13 said, and then went back to his forced breathing. 13 had expected the knight in thick plate armor to kill him on the spot.
13 then saw from his position on the black stone floor as Falkner ran out of the main room that would most likely serve as a mausoleum for all the residents in it, but then Falkner came back.
And he came with others, five of the seemingly endless amount of people picked up 13 and made their way to the caravan meant for holding their injured.
They had tried to remove the armor from 13 but had no luck, the two field agents deciding to make 13 comfortable until they returned to their kingdom of Soladarr.
The next two days were a blur for 13, he remembered the questions naked of him to which an honest but repetitive answer of.
"I dont know."
And he remembered the silent trek back to the templar's home kingdom of Soladarr. But everything changed when he was first brought to the national sanitorium, when he was asked a question that he could give a different answer too.
"Do you want this god forsaken armor off?"
That day 13 learned that he could still cry as he used all his strength to nod his head, tears sent flying from his repeated motion.
…
When he came too 13 was floating in a cylindrical glass container, weightlessly floating around and unable to move.
He could recognize a few people through the glass, Falkner, a few of the templars, and the 2 field medics that tried to make him feel comfortable.
This room was meant for people like him, who were bound with a curse item that could not be removed by normal means.
Two hooded figures then approached 13, and introduced themselves as father Berkeler and mother Carla, these people were here to administer holy power to weaken the crimson armor, while the doctors would rip it off by using the special properties of the room.
13 only felt the force of the removal, but the sounds would have haunted anyone who heard it.
A wet tearing sound along with the armor seemingly not wanting to be removed from 13, the people who were removing the cursed plate having to hear its ghostly wail.
But soon the armor was off and 13 felt like unknown but very much their weight had been lifted from him.
And soon sleep had come to him but before fully succumbing to rest, he heard shouts of shock and awe.
And the one thing 13 could clearly hear what Falkner said through the glass.
"Mordred?!"
…
13 awoke on a pure white bed, disoriented and feeling great!
It was if he was invincible as if he had regained something thought lost, he slowly and patiently left the bed.
When he stood he was shocked by how small everything was, but this was not the last surprise as 13 looked at himself with a mirror that was inside his room he was able to see his true appearance for the first time.
He was wearing nothing but a simple stitched together pair of pants, obviously made quikly to give the living mountain something to wear.
He was gaunt and pale, but he towered over everything in the room. Looking back 13 realized that the bed he was sleeping in was three beds put together to accommodate his size.
He moved the mirror to properly see his face, his hair was thick and a deep gray in color and covered a quarter of his back.
His eyes were a sickly amber yellow, but the most eye catching feature was neither of these.
13 had a large scar that was the entirety of his mouth and lower half of his face that looked like a large hand print.
The red scar tissue stood out against his pale face, one could make out every finger with the thumb mark that was centimeters away from his right eye.
But while mystified by his appearance hunched over holding the standing mirror, 13 was made aware of an argument happening just outside his door.
He could make out with the doctor, but the other two arguing with her were unintelligible.
"He's not even awake, and he claims that he barely has any memories. I know you just want to check but he is not ready."
The woman of the pair then started yelling, obviously losing her temper but the suddenness of the fight led to 13 dropping the standing mirror making an incredibly loud crash.
Then all was quiet, painfully quiet then suddenly he heard the door to his room slowly open.
13 heard the creaking of the door stop, he felt a tension that compelled him to turn around.
His large body needing room to turn took a lot longer than any other person would, he then saw who his doctor was fighting with.
Beside the doctor was a man and woman around the same age as each other.
As he looked at them the man who towered over the over two placed his left hand on his forehead, his eyes filled with shock.
The woman covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes welling up with tears .
13 then noticed that they wore similar rings, and each wore a smooth circular shaped pendant.
13 looked at them, he was not an idiot but even when in front of him he did not recognize them
So he spoke, to break the dreaded silence and ask the unwanted questions.
"I can't remember my parent's appearances, but I do remember the promises I made to them when I was a boy.
13 looked at the man.
"Did I promise you that I would help those who could not help themselves, to protect those who would be lambs to the slaughter if nobody did anything to stop it?"
13 then looked at the woman.
"Did I make an oath to you that I would never lose myself to hopelessness and always look at the whole picture before moving?"
Then the silence returned but only for a moment before both the man and woman ran at 13 and embraced him.
Both of them were crying, and talked about how happy the were to see him and how proud they are of him.
But the things that stood out the most was how big the man' smile and how warm the woman's voice.