The day is a scorching one. The sun glares down at the city, relentlessly sending wave after wave of heat. The dark cobblestone streets soak up the warmth until they are ready to send coals into any bare foot that dares to touch them. Only a couple limp clouds can be seen floating in the sunbaked sky, raggedly clinging on to existence before they evaporate away. It’s the sort of day most people would spend doing as little as possible and staying in the shade, so as not to let the angry sun fry their brain.

Yet Simon isn’t doing that at all. He and his group are heading right into a confrontation.

He marches along the cobblestones, passing by the dusty buildings slowly frying in the sun. The only sound to be heard is the clop-clop of a dozen pairs of shoes following behind him. Everything else is dead silent. The streets have often been deserted lately, even on days with better weather. People don’t dare to step outside. They’re too afraid of never returning back home.

Simon, however, feels no fear. Instead, his whole body feels coiled with anticipation, ready to spring forward at any moment. He is ready for this moment. He has been waiting for this chance to finally stop the menace hanging over the city. Despite the heat, he is adorned with a thick vest and boots. A worn leather sheath is attached to his belt, and within it his shining steel sword, a heavy weight against his leg.

The group soon arrives at the town square. Surrounded on all sides by buildings and alleyways, the square features wrought-iron benches, tall black lantern posts, and a large stone statue in the center. The statue is of the city’s founder, a general who lived a hundred or so years ago. He’s displayed with his feet apart in a powerful stance, thrusting his sword toward the sky as if he wants to stab out the sun.

Only a few people mill around the square. They idle near the benches or hide in the cool shade of the statue. They all have dazed looks of fear on their faces, the sort of look that comes from being afraid for so long one can hardly feel fear anymore. When they hear Simon’s group enter the square, their first reaction is to jump backward in terror. Then they see exactly who it is, and that fear turns into strong interest.

Simon stops in front of the statue and turns to face his group. They halt their walking and stand tall in front of him. All are wearing similar clothing to Simon, and every one of them has a sword. They look unaffected by the drowsiness normally caused by heat. Their chins are high, shoulders back, and eyes sparkling. Many have their hands poised on the hilts of their weapons, their fingers itching to draw.

Simon raises his head to address the group. His powerful voice booms through the hot, sticky air. “Okay, folks,” he announces. “You know why we’re here. We’re here because we’ve had enough. We’re done with rampages in our city’s streets! And you know why I chose you to help me with it. I chose you because you can fight, and you will fight for peace. And so today we will find those gangs. We will fight them. We will kill them, if necessary. But what we will definitely do is stop them, once and for all!”

A cheer rises up from the spectators, both Simon’s fighters and the other people in the square. What Simon’s group is about to do has been much awaited by the city.

Two rival gangs have been terrorizing the population for some time now. They constantly fight each other to the bloody death, hunting each other as fiercely as a wolf does to a deer. Their thirst to see each other’s blood has no bounds, their appetite for violence insatiable. Civilians unrelated to the gangs would often get caught in the middle of the fight and end up gravely injured, if not dead. It got to the point where walking a few streets over to the market was as dangerous as journeying to a forest infested with bears.

So Simon took it upon himself to bring peace. He found several eager volunteers who could fight, and arranged for them to meet today. Every single one of them cares deeply about the city’s welfare and making their home a safer place. They would find the gangs and teach them a lesson, so the city would finally be safe again. The city would finally be at peace.

Peace, Simon thinks as he observes his group. It’s a word sweeter than any sugar. A word symbolizing freedom, liberty, and life where one doesn’t have to fear the simple act of stepping outside the house.

Now the excitement is palpable. The blood-weary city goers in the square turn their eyes to Simon’s group, and in those dozen people they see hope. They see the promise of safety, of life, of peace. They see exterminators finally coming to eliminate the blight on their city. Everyone is thrumming with energy as they think about the coming fight.

Everyone, that is, except for one person.

She stands at the back of the square, in the dusty shadow of a building. She is old yet sturdily built, with strong wrinkle-covered arms and gray hair pulled into a tight bun. Despite her sagging face, her eyes shine bright and sharp as she gazes at Simon. Perhaps the most notable thing about her, however, is the long dark scar running down her arm, from shoulder to wrist. 

She stands unnoticed by the building until the cheering dies down. Then she speaks. Her voice is soft, not forced, and yet has a firm quality that makes everyone in the square turn to her.

“You have that heat in your head that comes from youth,” she says. “You think you’re invincible. I used to be like you; I used to think I could fight my way out of anything.” She chuckles softly. “But take my word for it, as someone who’s seen much, much more than you. You say you want peace; so why are you fighting? If you fight fire with fire, don’t you know the blaze won’t stop until there’s nothing left to burn?”

“What do you suggest, then?” Simon replies, his shoulders tensing. “Should we go up to the gangs and ask them nicely?”

“Violence is not the answer. I know it seems like the best solution, the quickest solution, but it will bring nothing.” The woman’s sharp eyes meet Simon’s, boring into his head, seeming to read his soul. The hot air suddenly starts to feel unbearable. Simon twists uncomfortably, reminding himself she’s just an ordinary woman and can do nothing to him.

“It’s the only way,” he tells the woman in a firm voice. “We need peace. We can’t go on any longer like this. The only way is to fight them.”

Resigned, the woman steps back. She glances one last time at Simon’s group before slipping into an alleyway and disappearing into the shadows.

With the woman gone, Simon’s confidence floods back into him. He’s making the right choice. He’ll show her that his group will be successful. He turns back to his people. “Now, are you ready to see the end of those gangs?” he bellows.

The response is the swift swish of a dozen swords being drawn, followed by the clomping of footsteps and the cheering of a dozen fighters running off to battle.

The gangs soon find the group, and it doesn’t take any time for the confrontation to become a full-on fight.

Under the sun’s continuous blaze, swords clash, people yell, and blood flows. Weapons slice through flesh like a butcher’s knife slicing through meat. It takes every ounce of each person’s energy just to stay standing. Simon’s warriors fight with their goal in mind, drawing power from the knowledge that they’re doing this for peace.

The sun starts to set as the battle rages. The wounds on each person accumulate, until some fighters start to fall. Metal blades flash through the air faster than wind, forcing the warriors to fill their entire mind with the battle or else risk being stabbed. It becomes so extreme that the individual fighters lose all sense of thought, their only purpose becoming to swing their swords at the enemy, slice the enemy, cut them down. For blocks and blocks in all directions people can hear the screams of people fighting, and the screams of people dying.

The frenzy of the fight surrounds the fighters, filling their minds and souls. Three different factions all become one under the red haze of battle. An onlooker coming to the battle would scarcely even be able to tell them apart.

Finally, when the sun’s dying rays reach the horizon, one of the gang leaders gets slain. The rest of the members from the gangs yell out to retreat before running off into the city streets. Simon’s group, too exhausted to chase them, collapses to the ground. They are surrounded by bodies littering the earth, and the endless red sunset sky above.

Simon clutches his side, where an enemy sword sliced open a large wound that now flares with brilliant pain. He slowly limps through the bodies, searching their faces. Then he finds them. A group of his comrades on the ground. Six of the original twelve. They lie still and cold, all the life sucked out of them, their eyes utterly blank. Friends who, just a few hours ago, were bright and hopeful and filled with life. People he led into this fight promising peace, and who instead would never live to see another day.

For a moment all Simon can do is stare uncomprehendingly at the dead. Then, slowly, he lifts his head toward the sky, basking his face in the sun’s red glow. He lets out a slow, agonized howl, like a crazed wolf lost in the deep forest.

His surviving comrades limp up to him. “They’re dead,” one of them rasps. “So many dead, and the gangs got away. We fought them, but it’s not over.”

“No,” Simon whispers. The frenzied look slowly leaves his face, leaving in its place nothing but fire. “It’s not. And it won’t be over until we avenge them. We can’t stop until every last one of the gangsters joins them in death.”

The remaining members of Simon’s group huddle together, surrounded by the dead, their eyes burning coals of vengeance.

Above the battlefield, above the bodies, a dove jerks erratically through the sky. A large gash runs through its wing and into its breast, from an unlucky encounter with a hawk. The dove flaps its wings frantically, flying over buildings and streets until it arrives at the town square. Then, its last drop of energy spent, it crashes down onto the statue of the soldier. It limps one step, two steps, and then finally collapses on the raised stone sword, surrounded by the red halo of the sun.