A man stood amongst a crowd in a dusty underground complex that had been built by the Empire. N., It seemed that the entire world that had ever been created was clustered in the complex and even still, he didn't know why he was there.
The boy in the boy's body: the person in the body of the boy stood there in the small, dark room in which he had been unceremoniously brought when they discovered the existence of the boy. It was a small room, it could be entered by a wooden door in front of him and there was a mirror inside the room.
The boy stood in the mirror. He was standing in a bright stretch of sunny land. A vast desert with nothing but sand and hard rocks. He was wearing a desert poncho and his hands, now hollow shells were excessively large. While his body was a mere bag of flesh, the hollow hands were wooden. They were a rich, mahogany colour and a faded coat of a tattoo stretched out from shoulder to shoulder. The tattoo was a mass of green vines and flowers that twisted round whatever they touched.
The boy inspected his own features. From the outside, the scars of the world were clearly visible. He had counted everything that was visible from the outside. 48 scars. The first scar he had counted from the outside was from the day he had been created. It was from the day that he had been born. It was the day that he had stopped being human. It was the day he had stopped being human.
A man came into the room. The man's face remained hidden, but the boy knew his face. His name was M. M was also created by the Empire. He was created to be the boy's brother. He was created to destroy the boy. It was the boy's mother, who created M. The boy's mother was not often around. The Empire had taken her very late at night to try and fix her. She had once loved the boy's father, who had loved her very much. They loved each other very much. Nothing remained of that love now. No evidence remained. No evidence remained. The boy's mother's eyes were a deep blue. They were a lighter blue than the boy's eyes were, but they were very similar. Now, the boy could see his mother's eye colour from the outside. He only knew from the inside. He knew it with his heart, not with his eyes.
He had once known all with his heart. The boy drew the blade that hung from his belt. It was a masterfully crafted blade that was actually made of glass, but it was not glass at all. It was glass in the same way that the boy was not human. It shone like an off black star in the boys loose fist. He stared at M. M was taller than the boy, but the boy could tell that the boy was stronger. M was dressed like the boy was dressed. The boy had never seen M dressed like this before. He was wearing the boy's clothes. He was wearing the boy's clothes. Not very many of the boy's clothes remained, but this was what the boy was wearing. "What are you doing?" The boy would never hear this after these very words.
The boy began to run at M, who had raised his greatsword. The greatsword had once belonged to the boy's father. It was, literally, literally two steps behind M. The boy was light on his feet. He swung at M's neck. M dodged, but was still hit in the arm by the tip of the glass blade. M began to hack at the boy, but the boy sidestepped. The boy was much faster than M. Faster than the fastest horse. M swung again, but the boy parried. The sword in his hand shone in the bright light. The boy was in the bright light. The bright light in the building was in the corner of the room. The bright light in the corner of the room was white, like the boy's eyes. The boy's eyes were like the brightness of the sun. Like the sun that his father wanted to be like. The boy was like the sun that his father wanted to be like.