Grinding

Joseph could feel the dampness of the darkened dirt as he walked across it, hearing the soft squish of it under his feet. Normally, such a feeling would have given him comfort, knowing that the fields were being cared for and that in a few months time, there would be crops to harvest and that could feed the people.

But not in the winter time.

It was too cold to be growing crops. Too cold for the mud under his shoes the radiate with heat. And the fields should never be steaming. Nor should that steam have had such a strong odor of iron.

He had no doubts about what he was standing on. What he did not understand was how or why. How could there have been so much bloodshed to soak the fields? How would anyone go about killing so many people, and in such a short span of time? He had been gone for only a day. And there were no bodies to be seen. How. Why?

As if a curse was lifted from his body, his muscles kicked into action to launch him forward towards the town. From the outside, there hardly seemed to be anything wrong. Some lights in the houses had already been lit as the sun was setting, but as he grew closer, there was no sound. No rustling in the streets as people walked and talked, heading home for dinner. No sound at all. It was as if the village had been deserted. But he feared worse.

There was blood in the streets, on the walls of buildings, splattered and trailing. It led Joseph to the town square, to a massive pile of bodies. Men, women and children, animals, and vague shapes that he couldn't even make out the shape of. Slaughtered, torn apart, thrown against each other and gathered in the center of town like some kind of sick tribute to the work of the man who was standing before it, proudly looking up at what he had done.

"Who the hell are you?" Joseph called out, his voice breaking. "What did you do to my people?"

The man turned slowly, the insane look in his eyes as he grinned sending shivers down Joseph's spine. "I thought I'd wiped this town out already," he said loud and clear, pulling a knife from his trenchcoat. "But it looks like I get to get one more kill."

Joseph could feel his blood freezing and desperately ran for the nearest house, looking for something to defend himself with. But the man was already there in front of him. "Oh, are you a fighter?" the man asked. His eyes were wide and white, his pupils miniscule. "Good. More experience."

"Why?" Joseph asked, barely able to get out his voice. "Why are you doing this?"

The man grinned wildly, and his knife was already plunged into Joseph's stomach. "I have to level up somehow."