Malek Allari | Editor-In-Chief
The story of the Barbarian runs through generations, and everyone has heard it at some point in their lives. However, that same Barbarian has a bloodline, and no one knows what happened to it. At least, most of the public is aware of it, for there are individuals who know. They have the knowledge to find the bloodline, and those people are the most dangerous. For if they found the descendants of the Barbarian, the world is fated to end. What makes them so dangerous? That question has been asked throughout history, and only one answer could be revealed. The Barbarian’s bloodline thrives with fear and acts on vengeance.
The real story started when the Barbarian was walking in the barren lands of Africa, in the middle of the Sahara Desert. He stood tall and proud, with brown skin gleaming before the sun, a red beard that scared the lions, and muscles that bumped with blood and air. He had a large axe hanging from his back, a sword on his hip, and a knife strapped to his forearm. The only thing that would cover his body was his long pants, which were made from the skins of a cheetah and a hyena. The wind blew on his face as he walked northwest to the kingdom of España. He was on his way to go and kill the unjust king, for the king had attacked the Barbarian’s village, which was in the African savannah ruled by lions and leopards. As the king managed to kill most men, the women and children had to flee from the village in different directions to survive. The Barbarian’s wife and children were killed by the house fire, or at least that is what people believe.
As the Barbarian marched the lands, he left ruins in his path. He massacred the lands and villages of wealthy chiefs and rulers. He assassinated the king of the North African Kingdom. Once he arrived at the Strip of Gibraltar, he unleashed his wraith on the ships of España. He sunk every ship he landed on, and when the fires and smoke of gunpowder on the ship rose to the sky, the king ordered the army to find the Barbarian and hang him. The bells of the Church and the palace rang and declared war on the Barbarian. When the Barbarian reached land, and as he was dripping wet from sea, he started walking towards the palace. On his way, chaos broke as the building started to burn and explode. “COME OUT, YOU COWARD,” the Barbarian screamed hoarsely. His voice filled the whole city, and the king could hear his booming voice. The king looked out the window of his palace, and his eyes stumbled upon a large figure. As he focused his eyes, he saw the Barbarian at the bells of the Church. Fear. The king saw fear. He felt it. He lived it. The king fell to his knees and screamed with madness.
The Barbarian walked through the palace halls with ash on his skin, blood dripping from the sword and axe. As he strolled towards the king’s quarters, the guards dropped dead every time they tried to fight the Barbarian. His muscles prevented a sword from running deep, but shallow cuts were on his back and arms. When he reached the king’s quarters and opened the door, he saw women from his village naked in one corner, the queen lying dead on the bed, and for the king…the king was hanged by the women. The king was hanged, and the vengeance of the Barbarian was not fed, so he set out to kill every ruler in this cursed world.
When he returned to his village with the enslaved women, he set out again to clear every kingdom from its ruler. His vengeance and hatred ran deep. By the end of his life, he ended the lives of every ruler in Asia and Africa. He failed miserably to conquer Europe, for they created an alliance to annihilate him from the face of the Earth. They also killed everyone in his village. The children were taken into slavery, and the women were raped and killed before their husbands. The husbands were sold to slavery and worked to death. The village was forgotten in history, and its ruins are nowhere to be found. That is the story of the Barbarian; however, the people forgot that he had a wife and a child. And after hundreds of years, the Barbarian story changed, but not to his descendants. The question is, where are they?
“They are everywhere,” a man answered when the storyteller asked the group of people around him. “They are the evil thoughts we have; the urges to kill, steal, or commit a crime that will spread chaos and anarchy.” When the man said that, everyone agreed, except for one. She looked up and saw everyone’s eyes focused on her.
She had blonde hair, green eyes, and the body of an athlete. She looked sideways, sighed, and said, “If our evil thoughts are what make us barbarians, then we can also say that the king of España is a barbarian. He was the one who started by killing the people from the Barbarian’s village.” She made sense, at least to some people.
“Sure, what he did wrong to kill other rulers. He had to calm the storm that raged in his mind and heart. Vengeance is a hungry beast that could not be tamed other than the blood and flesh of a human. To seek vengeance is to throw your humanity aside and become a monster that only lives to kill. To see the red blood, hear the screams, and drink the tears of humans, is what vengeance creates,” the storyteller said. I might have been the only one here who was quiet the whole time, and just as I was about to dissolve with the crowd, my existence to vanish, the storyteller had to look at me. “Do you have anything to say, my friend?” the storyteller asked. I smiled.
I smiled and could not hold back my laughter. Everyone was confused. Hell, I would be confused if it happened to me. “Vengeance is an art form. A form that requires the purest color of red and the purest tool to produce a masterpiece that will be hated by the people to come. Killing is art that humanity and morality despise, yet it impresses both the Heavens and Hell. It might be barbaric and evil, but no one can deny one thing. That one thing is: evil thoughts are nurtured by nature, and when nature tries to intervene with feeling and morals, the only kindness and good we see are from the people who seek to see the world fall. Whether it be vengeance or pleasure, when a human kills another, the nature of that human changes from one with a heart to one with a mind. That is why the most dangerous animal on this Earth is a human who thinks. The human who feels falls victim to the human who thinks, and that is when evil and vengeance become art, and the artist is none other than the heartless human.”
I stood up, pulled my axe from my back, unsheathed my sword from my waist, and said, “It might be true that the Barbarian has died, but his legacy continues. A legacy created by love and vengeance and the duty to protect.” Blood. Blood. And Blood. All I saw was blood.