What is A Human?

Salazar went flying across the field, his shrieks of pain trailing across the night sky as he crashed into the remaining wall of an old stone castle. His battered body left behind a small crater, perfectly keeping him place high above the ground. Blood oozed from him, trickling down in small waves.

My lungs filled with the scent of gunpowder and despair from the battlefield as I took a big huff of air. For that moment everything felt perfect, from the calm and slow flow of the blood in my veins, the sound of rapid gun fire nearby, all the way to hearing the enemy team calling in a massive retreat. I was able to truly visualize what this battle, and this war, had done to the sanity of humans.

They’re a primitive and violent entity, always consisting on besting each other in the most trivial of actions. Even at a the young age of a child they are taught to strive for nothing but the best when trying to accomplish something, thus leading to rivalries and alliances to help further, or hinder, their progress. And yet, peace and unity is also a heavy topic that is taught upon them. Some discover the path of tranquility and peace before learning about what they’re truly capable of achieving—so much potential has been lost this way. However, those who embraced the violent lifestyle ended up becoming fearful leaders, ones where people united under their threats of eradicating the opposition of their morals and ideals. Many have been birthed and left their marks in human history, but they all had one thing in common.

They all died. Whether it was due to old age, an assassination, or pure negligence for cleaning up their tracks, all of their work eventually vanished with them. Societies rebelled and rose up, revolutions lead to their downfalls, and new leaders came and reversed their work. Although they used violence and fear to rule, it wasn’t enough to fully grasp humanity in their hands.

I couldn’t help but chuckle and shake my head at the thought, “What weaklings, the humans are. It still boggles me how so many throughout history attempted to try and unify all of them under one flag.”

I broke my train of thought and focused on the etched out Salazar in the wall; he began to make a come around, slowly but surely freeing himself. From at least twenty feet up, he plummeted down onto the corpse-littered battlefield, most likely falling on top of the body of one of his own troops—disrespect at its finest, in my opinion. He struggled to even try and push his body up, constantly falling back down from the lack of strength in his dying body. After a minute of trying he finally gave up and let his body rest on the ground. I could have easily use my abilities to see if he died, but I wanted the pleasure of seeing him wither and die under my boot, so I took a small stroll towards him.

In a strange burst of humility, I called out to see if he was alive, addressing him by rank, Commander Salazar. He didn’t respond. Perhaps he had truly died on me. I begun to believe that until I saw a small, red mist-like splatter rise up from his mouth, spitting up to breathe. He let out a loud gasp to try and collect whatever air his destroyed lungs could collect.

He’s still alive, I thought, sinister grin on my face.

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