How he loathed this place.
It was a building that did not sleep, in a world whose inhabitants did not truly exist - and which, itself, was not real to begin with. Everywhere he went, he felt the eyes of its denizens upon him, watching him, wondering what the interloper with the bleach-colored hair and those ominous black robes was up to.
The heart-shaped moon shining down on the forsaken city was unnatural, to say the least. That such an abominable domain existed was itself an affront to nature. That he now walked its streets endlessly, restlessly, as if searching for something lost long ago, was an outrage. But what really got him were the images played ceaselessly on the television screen at the very top. Reminding him of another life, of memories forgotten.
Of feelings long gone.
A smiling woman of almost unearthly, heavenly beauty, holding a small, squirming bundle in her arms.
If I become a demon...
It was not that the image was unpleasant - far from it. Nor was it because it was too painful to see. The man felt no anguish at all, seeing the admittedly lovely, yet somewhat wistful, visage. Indeed, he may as well have felt nothing at all.
What did agitate him, rather, was that he knew who she was - at least, he thought he did. He should have. Just as he was sure about the... eldritch nature of this world, so too was he certain about having met the woman - in another place. In another time.
In another life.
So why could he not recall her name?
The enigma almost welcomed the frustration, for it gave him something to dwell on other than the emptiness that had plagued him since somehow waking up here.
And so he grinned ferally, albeit artificially, when the shadows appeared around him, circling him like a pack of predators would their next meal.
So be it.
He pulled up his hood, then stretched out his left hand as he summoned a weapon: a large, menacing blade featuring ornate designs and what looked like a gear shift protruding parallel to the hilt. Red Queen, he had once called it; that much was clear, from the few memories he had that actually made sense. A shadow of a smile flickered on his lips as he welcomed the sword, one of the only things of his past he had now.
With a warlike roar, and without missing a beat, the nameless youth rushed headlong at one of the monsters, bisecting it with a suddenly burning blade. He knew just then he had done this countless times before; the exact circumstances, however, eluded him.
Almost as if enraged at the death of one of their fellows, the rest of the shadowy beasts leapt at him but he was too quick for them. One attempted to blindside him, but was vanquished with an almost offhanded fist to the face. The rest of the monsters fared little better as, streaking forward, the man annihilated them, slashing through each of them with his sword ablaze.
I will endure the exile...
A crescendo of cacophonic roars, coming from above, caught his attention. Hundreds of those shadow creatures were crawling down the skyscraper, malice evident in their glowing, yellow eyes, as they rushed at him with killer intent. His reaction to these mindless ones was all but nonexistent, save for the appearance of a blue specter behind him. And even then, it was gone as soon as it came.
Drawing yet another, equally unique sword, this time in his right hand, he showed no hesitation at all as he rushed up to meet them, cutting a swath through their ranks until he had reached the top. And as he did so, he saw the woman's eyes gazing into his soul.
...Anything, to protect her.
The silver-haired youth felt a cavernous ache where his heart would have been, but it did not last. It was nothing, surely. It had to be.
But if I'm a demon, and not a human anymore... Is this what you want?
There was simply no way the purity of her smile could cause so much anguish to his nonexistent heart.