A Hero stands on a giant cliff, his cape heroically flies behind him while the sun shines over him. He looks down on the giant camp below, orcs filing in and out from their tents as they prepare to attack on a nearby village. But this hero is no any other, from the cliff, he dives into the camp as if there is something to catch them.

"Catch that thing!" A giant orc yells from the tents, I cannot see what they are as I am drenched by their blood. The Hero used me to slice, slash, stab, and parry and I in turn give him the power to overpower these hulking beings.

THUNK!

Unlike most heroes of these era, he never uses his shield and just let a giant mace hit him to the stomach, he came flying to the other side of the tank. I swore I hear him gasp from under that helmet but nonetheless, he stood up and finish them all in just a few slices.

"All Hail the Hero of the Sun!" The villager calls for his title, but never his name, he just accepts as the villager foolishly loves his hero alter ego and not that pathetic boy under that tin head. He just waves them off as he refuse to even take one bread from the piles of gifts that the villagers willing to give. He is unlike any foolish people like before who sacrificed their lives just to receive praise from the masses or even control the masses but nonetheless, they are just mere humans who would go back to the dirt where they once risen.

"Little boy Raoul," I call out his name, "It's still early in the morning, should we at least stay by an Inn to get some drinks?"

Raoul just shakes his head, "Orcs do not wait dear sword, and do you not want war and misery?"

Smart boy, he knows what I like, I love the screams of the living under me as I feel myself slashing through their bodies. I do not care of what my past user think, I just want them to sustain what I want: Their lives and the lives of others. However, he is unlike any other heroes, for I feel pity for my user for the first time in decades and centuries of being used.

And just like that, from the early morning to the late night, every orc camp at sight turns into a ghost camp. No orcs are at his mercy, even the orcs that cannot stand or yell goes under me.

Raoul is no hero and he is no man, he is a boy who seeks for vengeance against the race who killed his parents and took his little sister. And I am just a tool he uses to unleash his anger upon these living beings. Who is really the monster here? I do not know the answer.