The beautiful warrior studied the handsome man for a while. The two were perfectly still for quite some time, the warrior unable to process how she’d lost so utterly. She simply couldn’t wrap her mind around how she’d suffered such a perfect defeat.
The handsome man was also still. Silent. He didn’t talk much, probably being of the sort who dislikes words. She’d heard him grunting throughout the fight, and had come to the conclusion that he didn’t know the language spoken in the country. And that he was a warrior through and through, having the mentality that words weren’t meant for the strong, but rather that a fighter’s true personality is revealed through his fists, and through his blade. He resembled a human, out of the ancient myths that once spread through the land. Nowadays only scholars and warriors who visit ancient ruins know of the myths of the species that once inhabited this verdant country.
Humans once ruled a vast and mighty empire that stretched beyond the furthest documented frontier. They were a powerful but fragile species. And many centuries ago, they were wiped out. Nowadays the country was inhabited by a variety of creatures, all accepted and loved. Humans weren’t as tolerant as the current government is.
But the warrior was unlike anything that the beautiful warrior had ever seen. He was dark-skinned but solid, not made of a solidified liquid, like men of slime and jelly were. He didn’t possess the wings of a dragon, or the scales of a lizard warrior like her. He was also bright eyed, unlike the near mythical undead warriors who ruled the night. His sword was also made of steel, a metal long since unseen in the kingdom.
The one thing that made her unsure of her analysis was his hand. Unlike the rest of the warrior, whose skin was a deep shade of ebony, his hand was a bright metal. The lizard warrior was certain it was just armor, but if it was, it was unlike any sort of metal she had ever seen, even the steel.
The gauntlet was golden. Like the sun appeared at it’s brightest over the vast kingdom of Luna. It was a bright metal, one which could be described as “gold”. She wanted to see the hand beneath the metal.
“Strip yourself of that armor.” She said, slowly, carefully pronouncing each sound, and pointing to the gauntlet, before pretending to remove something from her hand, as a way to ensure that she was understood.
“I can’t. It’s my hand.” He said, before extending it towards her, his first words to the beautiful warrior. Her face dropped, before she regained her composure. She was skeptical of the claim, and slowly took it in her hand.
Much to her shock, the metal felt like skin. It felt like cold skin, the skin of a dead creature, but it still felt like skin, and not metal. She explored it, her gentle hands, carefully touching each possible inch of metal, but she did feel a heartbeat, and occasionally a pulse of heat, like the metal was melting in her very hands. It was hot to the touch, but not unpleasant, not painful, but rather it was exciting, like she was about to sit down in a sauna, or in a hot spring. The fingers were as flexible as the fingers of any creature she’d ever seen, even slimes that lived near water. It was as if there was no bone, but there was a strength inside of the glove, the “hand”.
“I lost my hand in a fight, a long time ago. I didn’t lose the fight, but I couldn’t simply replace the hand. So a friend decided that she’d make my ‘hand’ the gauntlet I was using.” He explained, slowly and carefully, his accent thick, as if he wasn’t used to speaking. And according to the rumors he wasn’t. The warrior who’d silently taken over the southern mines wasn’t a beast known for speaking. Rather he was a creature of real, and terrifying power. A warrior clad in bright armor, who possessed skin as dark as night. If it weren’t for his bright eyes, one would truly suspect he was a member of the deadly race of night warriors who plagued Luna once the moon ascended over the horizon. But he was capable of walking in the daylight. As he had proved to her.
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