Diabolical Epiphany

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Escaflowne or Sweeney Todd.

The last thing each victim saw before perishing was the sky streaked with a bloody red as the crimson guymelef eliminated pilot and armor with one fell swoop. Every fighter on that accursed battlefield believed that never, in all their lives as soldiers, had they witnessed such inordinate carnage and wrath. Oreades slashed down men here and there, as swiftly as lighting, without mercy, and without warning. And so every man left feared for his life and wished to the gods he had never entered the same battlefield as the most ruthless warrior of the Zaibach Empire, Dilandau Albatou.

Who sir, you sir?
No one's fighting me, Come on! Come on!
Dilandau's waiting. I want you bleeders.
You sir! Anybody!
Gentlemen now don't be shy!

Screaming with sadistic delight, the crimson-eyed warrior went about slashing and eliminating every pitiful soldier in his path to slake his bloodlust. He had always been a zealous fighter but during this battle, his murderous rage was fuelled by an even greater desire for vengeance. He cackled loudly as another substandard guymelef crumbled at his feet. But he was not satisfied. Only one man's death would fulfill him today. He licked his lips eagerly and relentlessly searched the combat zone for his prey.

I will have vengeance.
I will have salvation.

Dilandau cut down another guymelef, perhaps from Cesario or Daedalus, he did not care. He was shouting out one name, the name of the culprit he would punish, his fury echoed by the slashing movements of his armor and the roar of the fires emitted by his vicious flamethrower. The smoke from the burning corpses blackened the already dark sky. The screams of his victims pierced the air and their desperate cries for mercy were left unheard. He would not be swayed.

Not one man, no, nor ten men.
Nor a hundred can assuage me.
I will have you!

As the Oreades strode through the bloodied ground strewn with guymelef debris and corpses, bitter memories assailed her pilot. It had been on similarly scarlet soil that his men had perished, massacred, murdered, by that demon Van Fanel. Dilandau was incensed and grieved. He would never see them again, his Dragonslayers. They were lost to him now. And their killer would pay, and pay dearly, for what he had done. No one dealt insult or injury to Dilandau Albatou with impunity. Van Fanel would soon know the truth of such a statement.


And I will get him back even as he gloats
In the meantime I'll practice on these honorable throats.
And my Slayers lie in ashes
And I'll never see my men again.

But he would not allow despair to creep in, only rage must reign tonight. All of these fools would feel his wrath. No one will stand in the way of his revenge. But he would be patient. He would wait for the dragon to show himself in his great armor Escaflowne. Then, ever the Dragonslayer, Dilandau will strike the mortal blow on the target who had eluded him so many times before and who had slain his men.

His men would be avenged; he would make sure of that. Another small guymelef, probably from Asturia, was now approaching him. The courageous fool. Dilandau smirked menacingly. This was no time to ponder on the past.


But the work waits

For no one!

And in a single blow, the pathetic guymelef crashed to the ground. Another one soon followed but this one didn't even have a chance to strike. The Oreades' blade had already been plunged into the center of the armor and Dilandau was raising his skewered quarry high. The Zaibach soldier cackled diabolically, his crimson pupils ablaze.


I'm alive at last!
And I'm full of joy!