My Snippets, Incomplete Ideas, or Prototype Works

Sakura Matou POV

I dreamed of death.

A man dressed in red the scent of blood and steel filled the air, thick and suffocating. The world around me was a battlefield shattered earth, broken bodies, and the distant screams of people dying.

The sky was dark with smoke, and the ground was slick with crimson and amidst it all he stood.

A man clad in a red cloak, dark gray armor, and white bandages wrapped around his mouth stained with blood.

His breath was heavy, his body worn from countless clashes, and yet his stance remained firm.

In his hands, twin beautiful blades of black and white gleamed in the sun light.

His enemies surrounded him knights in black armor, mercenaries wielding jagged weapons, twisted things that barely resembled men.

They did not hesitate no falter and neither did he.

The first enemy lunged Assassin twisted his body his black blade meeting steel in a violent crash. Sparks flew and in a single motion he severed the attacker's arm spinning on his heel to drive his white sword into another's throat.

A spear came for his back he saw it.

Kanshou shifted in his grip his arm moving faster than thought. The curved blade met the spear's tip, deflecting it just enough for him to sidestep his knee struck the spearman's ribs, his blade cutting through the opening in his armor before the body even hit the ground.

There was no time to breathe though more came.

One after another.

Steel clashed against steel.

Assassin moved like a storm weaving through his enemies with practiced grace. He was not untouchable though blood dripped from a gash along his arm and his breaths came heavier with each passing second.

He never stopped.

A greatsword came crashing down he caught it the force nearly buckling his legs. His weapons shattered under the weight but even as the shards fell, he forged a new pair.

Steel formed in his hands mid-motion his body already moving before the thought had finished.

The white sword slashed across the swordsman's throat while the black blade was plunged into another's chest.

One step.

One kill.

Another step.

Another kill.

He knew he could not save everyone, He knew that in battle sacrifices had to be made, and yet he still fought because even if he could not save them all he could still save someone.

The last foe fell his blade clattering against the bloodstained ground.

Assassin exhaled lowering his swords.

The battlefield was silent now.

He stood alone the path he had taken led him here and yet he never cursed the Red Saint who saved him from amongst the rubble of his former home or Humanities Will because at the very least he could help others even if he had to kill.

The images burned into my mind the battle, the blood, him.

A man who carried a dream, no matter how impossible.