She's gone. Thought Seoc as he walked through the bleak forest near his farm. The moonlight reflected off his pale skin, and his dark eyes made his face seem abysmal up close. His greying hair was messy and unkempt. The smell of rum was radiating from his every pore.

He had come home from selling his crops in town to find a note from his beloved wife, Marta. Seoc, I have known you all my life and when we first married, I was so in love. But the man I loved died on the battlefield all those years ago. I appreciate you trying to better yourself for me, but the blood on your hands remains. You're not a monster Seoc, but you are certainly troubled. For these reasons I must leave. The note read.

He finished off the large bottle he carried, drowning his sorrows however he could. "After all this time... I try to be better but... this world will not let me."

He smashed the empty bottle on a tree, leaving the shattered glass and small droplets of blood behind him.

Suddenly, an image of a dagger flashed in his mind. The blade was silver painted with a deep red, and a pointed bottom painted the same. Along the red of the blade was a mark that Seoc had never seen, but could swear he recognized. Just as he was getting too freaked out for the night, he felt a hand grab his boot.

A great force pulled him into the dirt below and in an instant, he emerged once more. Seoc frantically wiped at his face, trying to get the dirt out of his eyes and mouth. Once he could see again, the man noticed the new red tint to the night sky, and the immense cold he shouldn't feel in the middle of summer.

He stood with shaky legs, and tried sprinting back to his home. Before he could make that attempt though, all the breath left his lungs and he dropped to the ground, gasping for air, and unable to use his limbs. It was a feeling of intense helplessness that overwhelmed his mind. All he could do was scream as spectral figures shrouded in crimson mist surrounded him. Their whispers felt like screams echoing in his ears.

"Murderer!"

"Monster!"

"Butcher!"

Each title these shrouded men and women gave him was another dagger to his heart. Titles earned through his life. He had thought the titles he'd earned in his life would bring him fame, but the ones he got gave him infamy. He gave up trying to move, and went limp.

All sound faded around him, and the stomp of heavy boots overshadowed the silence. Soon, the black boots emanating an abysmal steam came into view, and a cold, metallic hand grabbed his chin. His face was lifted not to see another face, but a shape formed by the abyss, above shimmering black armor Two crimson flames glowed within the flurry of black smoke that took the place of the beings head.

He was just as the scriptures had described him. Seoc was raised to fear his wrath in the afterlife, and he was now face to face with the ruler of The Hellscape. This was Sufrir, the embodiment of punishment.

"Seoc, The Butcher of Bhacstair." Sufrirs voice sounded like a whisper but it echoed louder than any other.

"Your soul is tainted with the blood of innocence. Your many victims surround you, and they desire your punishment." Sufrir said, lifting Seoc up by the throat.

The man shivered in fear. "This... am I dead?" He asked.

The flaming eyes of The Warden of Darkness narrowed. "No. You are not dead, but I have claimed your soul." He spoke before throwing him against a tree with such force that it shattered.

Seoc couldn't move his body. Every bone he had was clearly broken. I should be dead. What is this? He thought.

"You cannot die here, Butcher. You can only suffer." Sufrir threatened as scarlet chains materialized around Seocs wrists and ankles. He was strung up as the area around faded into a dark cell, lit only by blood red candles.

"Do you think fondly of your crimes?" Sufrirs voice echoed through the empty cell.

Seoc began sobbing. "No... I hate myself to this day... I wake up screaming most mornings because of my nightmares... I'm trying... I'm trying to change..."

The Lord of Retribution appeared in front of him, tearing the shirt from his body. "That is good, Seoc. But regret is not penance. The wronged will have their vengeance."

Seoc shivered in fear as the red spirits from before returned. One approached him with rage in his eyes. A young man with short hair and a slash across his face. "You don't remember me, Butcher. But I will never forget you." His voice echoed.

Suddenly, a red haze appeared in the boys hand. This haze turned into the blade from Seocs vision. A wave of terror ran through his body.

"Are you afraid of this knife?" The boy asked.

Seoc felt tears well up in his eyes as he remembered who this boy was. After a bloody battle where few prisoners were taken, he alone was captured by Seocs soldiers.

"I feared the blade you held too. I had surrendered but... that didn't mean anything. You looked at a frightened boy with such malice... and you put your blade to my throat..." The hatred in his voice sent shivers down Seocs spine.

He remembered losing nearly half his men that day. Men he'd trained with, fought with, and bled with. The survivors were angry, and had to blame someone, so they took it out on the nearest enemy they found. Seoc often looked back on this moment as the day the old him died, and the Butcher of Bhacstair was born.

"H...how old were you?" He asked the angry boy.

The boy put the dagger to his killers throat, and pressed the razor sharp edge against his flesh. Small beads of blood formed and began trickling down to his chest. "I was sixteen. I joined my countries army to keep my father out of the fight... and it got me killed."

Before Seoc could say anything back, the blade ripped through his throat. The blood poured out as he awaited the death that never came. There was only the pain as his flesh slowly came back together. The sealing of his skin felt like he was on fire. It was as if someone held a hot iron to his wound.

As the pain faded and he regained his composure, another figure appeared before him. This was an old man dressed in rags. "Do you remember me?" He asked.

Seoc knew who this was, but didn't want to think about what he'd done to him. His eyes widened and the tears streamed down his face. "No... not you..." He choked out as he began sobbing.

The man scowled with a vitriol that felt like another blade stabbing in Seocs heart. "I remember you... when your band of soldiers stopped at my farm we welcomed you all with open arms."

Seoc averted his gaze. This was near the end of one of the worst campaigns of the war. They'd lost so many men and he'd just been put in charge of his own section of soldiers. The men were tired, starved and most of all, angry.

They stopped at this mans farm on their way back to camp. The territory had just been annexed and their loyalty needed to be tested. Seoc and his men didn't take kindly to the foreign banners they still pinned to their walls, so the farm was burned, their belongings taken, and much worse that Seoc couldn't bear to remember.

"We just wanted to be left alone... we supported whatever banner that traded with us... but you monsters..."

Seoc sobbed at the thought. "Please no..." He pleaded with the old man. He'd blocked this memory from his mind for so long. He thought that mayne if it wasn't spoken of, he could deny it's existence.

"You burned our home! You took our crops!" The man screamed at Seoc with a shaky voice as the dagger appeared in his hands.

Seoc pleaded with him to stop talking but the old man continued. "And my daughters! My wife! My son! I found their bodies the next morning in our lake! After you gave them to your men to do whatever they pleased with! Then you personally paid me a visit to shove a blade through my heart, just like this!" The old man screamed as he plunged the dagger into Seocs heart.

He screamed in agony, and sorrow as the memories of his cruelty returned to him. "That wasn't me... it was the war... it did something to me... I wasn't myself..." His attempts to justify himself fell on deaf ears as the old man faded.

One after another, vengeful souls appeared in front of Seoc. And one after another, they took their vengeance, plunging the same blade in him, in whatever way they pleased, until they were satisfied. The more the blade pierced his flesh, the worse the pain became.

He'd lost track of time, feeling he'd been in that room for an eternity, but also only a moment. Minutes became hours, but also seconds. Basic logic of existence became a distant memory. He was only allowed to focus on his sins, and the pain his victims inflicted back upon him. He felt his body weakening and his mind tearing itself apart.

Sufrir returned to Seoc to look upon the broken man before him. His hair had gotten grayer, and his eyes bloodshot. A red tint was emerging from the depths of his gaze. "You are being torn apart, Seoc. As you should be. No mortal is without corruption. All deserve my punishment, but a soul comes every now and then that is so blackened that I must act prematurely."

Seoc struggled to lift his head up to face him. "I... I tried to be better... I tried to atone... Is that not enough?" He said as the tears fell again.

Sufrir was angered by his statement as the blade appeared once more. "As I said before, regret is not penance!" He shouted as he plunged the blade deep into Seocs stomach, ripping it across his torso with enough force to gut him in less than the blink of an eye.

Seocs screams echoed loudly, but none would come for him. He was doomed to suffer for as long as Sufrir deemed it necessary. "Yours is the most worthy of torments, Butcher of Bhacstair. But I can tell you are beginning to understand why you suffer." The demon came closer, inches from Seocs face.

"Tell me the story of how you earned your title." He commanded.

Seoc let his head fall back down, and spoke as if all life was leaving him. "The war was almost over. All we needed to do was take Bhacstair and we'd won. I hadn't seen my wife in nearly a decade... so I chose to force them into submission... as quickly as possible... by any means necessary."

Sufrir backed away. "Was, Marta truly that important to you?" He asked.

Seoc looked back to him with determination. "Yes! Nothing else mattered but returning to her!" He shouted.

Sufrirs eyes narrowed as the blade disappeared and appeared once more in the hands of a young and beautiful woman. A woman Seoc was very familiar with. "You were very important to your wife as well. So much so that she remained faithful the entire ten years you were gone. Can you say the same?" Sufrir asked.

The woman approached with malice in her eyes. "No... I remember you..." Seoc whispered, looking down in shame.

"Oh... you remember the whore you 'rescued' from your soldiers on the streets of Bhacstair, only to take her back to your tent. The next morning I found a blade in my chest... All because of your shame." She said, plunging the dagger into him yet again. She ripped it out only to stab him over, and over again, all over his body, until her spirit faded. The blade now stuck out from his neck.

Sufrir returned to rip his blade from Seocs flesh. Without being spoken to, Seoc broke the silence in his cell. "That day... with that woman... it's when I realized what kind of monster I'd become... It's when I found that the man in my reflection was a stranger... I no longer recognized myself... I still don't..."

"Yours was a worthy torment. Your victims have had their vengeance." He said as the shackles that binded him vanished.

"W... what?" Seoc asked with a shaky voice, and trembling limbs.

Sufrir dropped the dagger at his feet. "You have suffered, and your regret has manifested. Now, you may begin your penance."

Seocs face showed nothing but pure rage, not at Sufrir, but at himself. "No! I do not deserve penance!" He screamed.

"I'm a monster! There is no changing, or saving my soul! I deserve nothing but this... for eternity!" He slammed his fists to the cold, stone floor that was coated in a pool of his own blood.

Sufrir towered over him emitting a dark aura that surrounded Seoc. The cell was no more; only the abyss remained. "Please... just kill me now... take my soul to torture for the remainder of existance... I deserve nothing less." Seoc begged.

Sufrir refused. "No. I have larger plans for you." He said as Seoc looked up to the Lord of Punishment.

"No mortal soul is without corruption. As I said before, they all deserve my punishment, and they shall receive it. The Heavens however, prevent me from bringing my righteous fury upon the mortal world."

Seocs eyes glowed crimson, as a strange energy flowed through him. He felt the strength to stand once more as he listened to Sufrirs speech.

"You will be my vessel. A soldier of the Hellscape, tasked with punishing the mortals. You are indeed a monster, but that is what I require. Your soul is mine, and I command you to become my dark crusader to punish all who breath."

Seoc stood tall, having become something different from the broken man he had been before. Now he had a purpose, a chance for redemption. A crusade of carnage would be his penance. As was done unto him, he would now do unto others. He would bring worthy torment to the world.