I'm Still Not Bowing

         Clouds as dark as a swirling black hole cloaked the sky, leaving the world below shrouded in an undesirable shadow. As soon as they arrived rain began to drizzle from them, drenching everything it touched instantly and by now everything was heavy with moisture. It was quiet now though, except for the sound of  the rain as it delicately slipped against whatever it came in contact with. Scattered throughout the area were various weapons of all forms, most soaked with blood or other debris, but oddly there were no bodies to accompany them. There was a few shirts and various appendages, but no sign of  any bodies, dead or alive. It was as if they had all fought and then just decided to walk away.
         As soon as his eyes opened numerous sensations swept through his body but one constantly overpowered the others:  pain. Despite being in this complete and total pain he refused to move and instead he focused on something else. His eyes watched with absolute concentration as the rain fell against his head, saturated as much as it could and then dripped from his head to his bangs and then finally, to the ground. If anyone was watching it would seem like he was utterly fascinated with this seemingly trivial thing. He blinked only occasionally, usually only when a water droplet fell from his hair and dropped against the ground.
         “I‘m still not bowing.” His tone was just above a whisper and hoarse, as if the last time he spoke was quite some time ago but there almost seemed to be a smug undertone to it.
         As suddenly as he spoke he rolled to his side and groaned as he clutched the opposite side, peering down at it to study the traces of dried blood that clung to his clothing. A wince set across his features and overall being but he still managed to sit up straight, and as he did so the water that had been pooling on top of his head came tumbling down. He didn’t seem phased and grasped at something laying to his right, his fingers running along the smooth metal that it was composed of. He grabbed a hold of the sword and used it to help stabilize himself as he rose, his movements shaky at first. He stood completely still for a few moments, letting the blood flow into his legs as he surveyed his surrounding, his lively green eyes taking in every detail that they could. Once he felt that he could move he lifted the sword and secured it in the scabbard at his side and took a few slow steps. After seeing that it was alright he took a few larger steps and then began to walk at what a normal pace for him should be. His hand remained glued to the grip of his sword, his eyes constantly scanning from side to side. He was weary but still remained as vigilant as possible. At this moment he knew he was alone, but the next moments and beyond were a mystery.