Marcus woke up in the rain.
He opened his eyes and saw stone walls rising high above him. A castle. He was lying in a courtyard, rain pouring down on his face.
He sat up slowly, his body adjusting to this new time. His clothes had changed again. He wore rough wool and leather now. A sword hung at his belt. The curse providing what he needed.
Marcus stood and looked around. The castle was huge, with towers that pierced the gray sky. Banners hung from the walls, soaked by the rain. He couldn't read the symbols on them, but he would learn.
He always learned.
The sound of fighting came from inside the castle. Shouts. Screams. The clash of steel on steel.
Marcus sighed and drew his sword. Here we go again.
He walked through the castle gates and into chaos.
Men in armor were fighting in the great hall. Some wore red tunics under their armor. Others wore blue. They hacked at each other with swords and axes, their blood mixing on the stone floor.
A man in red armor saw Marcus and charged. He raised his sword high, shouting a battle cry.
Marcus sidestepped the swing and slashed across the man's throat. The blade cut deep, severing the jugular and windpipe. Blood sprayed across the floor. The man fell, drowning in his own blood.
Two more men in red armor came at Marcus. He blocked the first sword with his own, then kicked the second man in the chest. The kick sent the man flying backward into a table. The table collapsed under his weight.
Marcus disarmed the first man with a quick twist of his wrist, sending the sword clattering across the floor. Then he drove his own blade into the man's chest, punching through the armor and into the heart. The man's eyes went wide. Blood poured from his mouth. Marcus pulled the sword free and let him fall.
The second man was getting up from the broken table. Marcus walked over and stomped on his head. Once. Twice. Three times. The helmet dented inward. Blood leaked out from under it. The man stopped moving.
More men in red armor were coming. Marcus counted ten of them.
Good odds.
The first two reached him together. Marcus parried one sword and ducked under the other. He came up slashing, his blade catching the first man across the face. The sword cut through the nose, through the cheekbone, through the eye. The man screamed and fell back, his face hanging in a bloody flap.
Marcus spun and slashed the second man across the back of the legs, cutting through the tendons. The man's legs gave out. He fell to his knees. Marcus grabbed his head and twisted, snapping his neck. The body fell forward with a crash of armor.
The remaining eight men spread out, trying to surround Marcus. Smart. But it wouldn't help them.
Marcus charged the closest one, his sword flashing. He beat aside the man's guard and stabbed him through the throat. Blood bubbled from the wound. The man clutched at his neck, trying to stop the bleeding. It was useless. He fell.
A sword stabbed into Marcus's back, punching through his kidney. Pain exploded through his body. Marcus grunted and spun, the sword still stuck in him. He grabbed the man who had stabbed him and head-butted him so hard the man's helmet dented. The man fell back, dazed.
Marcus pulled the sword out of his back. Blood poured from the wound. But it was already starting to heal.
He threw the sword at another attacker. It spun through the air and caught the man in the chest, punching through his armor. The man looked down at the sword sticking out of him, confused. Then he fell.
Six left.
They were backing away now, fear in their eyes. They had just watched Marcus take a sword through the back and keep fighting.
"Demon!" one of them shouted. "He's a demon!"
Marcus didn't correct him. Let them think what they wanted.
He picked up a fallen axe and advanced on them.
The men broke and ran, their armor clanking as they fled. Marcus let them go. He wasn't here for them anyway. The curse had brought him here for a reason. He just needed to find out what it was.
He walked deeper into the castle, following the sounds of fighting.