“General, we’ve got a prisoner.” The soldier forced the captured man to his knees. “What shall we do with him?”
The prisoner was about to be freed but then the general unexpectedly changed his mind. “On the other hand…,” he said as he was about to step away. Blood spurted out of the prisoner’s neck as the general struck him down with his sharp katana.
“General Mark, weren’t you going to fre—”
The general fixed his gaze on the soldier. “I am Karm.” He strangled him from afar. “Don’t you question my will!”
“I…am…s-sorry, General,” the soldier muttered, gasping for air.
The general’s attitude and behaviour changed again, confusing the nearby soldiers. “Forgive me, I....” He regained his composure. “The battle is over. Dismissed.”
The soldiers left, but the general still stood there facing the sky, his eyes closed. Raindrops fell on his eyelids and like tears slowly slid across his cheek, before dropping on the back of his black coat and snaking downwards, over that which represented his whole being: the black-and-red yin-yang symbol.
General Mark, they called him, though that was not his only name.
One moment he was Mark, another moment he was Karm, one good and forgiving, the other evil and merciless. That was his curse, to have multiple personalities that would switch when he least expected it.
But at the same time that was what had allowed him to become one of the most renowned warriors in the land, adept in both the art of sword fighting and the use of the elements, and grant him the rank of general at the age of twenty-five, making him the youngest person ever to achieve such position. He was thirty-one now and had more than twelve years of experience in the field of battle behind. But no matter how grand is achievements were, no matter how many times he rose victorious, he was scorned by society, viewed as a monster, feared and hated by many, loved by none.
He was an outcast.