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Backstory

        “Stop him! Don’t let him go any further!”

        “There... there's a monster! Help!”

        Screams echoed in the castle of the nobles. From the footbridge a green figure marched into the castle. If anyone, civilian or soldier alike, got into his way, he would decapitate him. Diarmuid’s heart overflowed with hatred. He had already lost his grip on his sanity, and could no longer remember his oath of not killing the innocent. His lances were longing for the warm blood of that particular one, and all he wanted was death of that person, for it was the only thing that could comfort his heart of revenge.

        Step by step he went across the bodies, finally coming to the innermost room. Though the door was yet to be opened, Diarmuid could already hear the desperate cries and sense the fear of death on the other side of the door. He could hardly suppress his agitating madness as long as he pictured the scene which his foe would die under his lances.

        The nobleman behind the door was trembling. He was alone in the spacious room, neither aides nor guards stayed beside him, and the only thing separating him from Diarmuid was the fragile door.

        As the footsteps were getting closer, the nobleman knew that Diarmuid, as well as death, were there. He was looking for a place to hide; yet he was so fat that the enormous wardrobe was the only thing that could contain him. He tiptoed inside and closed the door carefully.

        The door of the room was slammed open. From the tiny gap of the wardrobe, the nobleman could see Diarmuid in search of something. Whenever Diarmuid’s gaze swept the wardrobe, he held his breath for that he feared that it might draw Diarmuid’s attention.

        Seeing Diarmuid step out of the room, the nobleman heaved a sigh of relief, and that was when a lance was thrust into his head. Everything happened in the blink of an eye that it seemed that his unclosed eyes were telling that he had not known he was dead...

        As Diarmuid withdrew his lance, the body fell out of the wardrobe in front of Diarmuid. Looking at the corpulent body, Diarmuid gave a chuckle and raised his lances. He kept piercing the body with his lances until it became blood and mince and none of the parts could be identified. Wearing a smile on his face, he turned and left the castle...

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