This story is a deviation of the main plot of Soul Eater and I've swapped a few things as you'll become aware as time goes on. Though I have to say I like the challenge of trying to make something a little more serious out of the sometimes comical tone of Soul Eater. This first chapter feels a little, awkward to me. Though I hope you'll enjoy the story!

Behind a curtain separating two worlds like mirror images, stood a city and civilization on the brink of extinction. The war with Hell had burned away all their armies, all their weapons and their heroes. And now, in a city of very little political or strategic importance The People were gathering to make their final stand and buy their priests the time they needed to tear a rift through the curtain that separated their world from the spirit world and save themselves from complete destruction at the hands of the daemons of Hell.

In the innermost plaza of the little city the priests chanted feverishly as the portal they had built began to glow with life. Soldiers and civilians alike stood shoulder to shoulder, a living shield between their adversaries and their species' only means of survival: a jump into the Spirit World and to subsequently invade it for a new home.

"Is there any hope left? A chance of victory?" asked one as she dropped her pauldron and its broken strap off her shoulder as she took her place ahead of the spear lines.

"None. We simply slay all that approach until the priests open the portal. Or keep the portal from annihilation for a brief while and of course sell our lives most dearly to the daemons" answered the one who led them. Clear lines from the brim of his eyes cut staggering paths through his soot-caked skin. He had wept for days now in sorrow and in rage.

"I like that plan" said one of the soldier's companions.

"I do as well" answered the leader.

The children warriors were the ragged scraps left from the Daemon Hunter's squire bands. Long had they accepted that they had outlived their grim but great masters and that it fell upon their young shoulders to see the end of their world.

Looking past his fellows, the leader gazed impassively at the glistening hordes miles before them. The entire valley in which the city was nestled in, hundreds of miles wide was alight with the torches or sometimes the skin of the beasts that had come to end them. Glancing above him he couldn't see the sun past all the smoke and haze from the burning cities.

"At least we have a handful of surviving slaves. They will prove useful no?" smiled one of the leader's companions as he jerked another of his fellows brutally by a chain collar and whipped him for good measure.

This was the end and Hell had followed them all the way here. They would not stop until all life was engulfed by the shadows. And they could not stop fighting until they were all dead, such was the demand of the Queen.

-0-

"And so you see that is how Lord Death tore the Veil and brought forth the first great Krieger into our world. Forming a partnership with it as is now tradition he and his Krieger defeated the greatest daemons of Hell and prevented the end of the world" spoke Francesca brightly with her usual smile.

Teaching had been a great delight that year, especially with Maka being her model student.

From the corner of her eye she saw Maka's hand shoot up.

"Yes Maka?"

"But what is a Krieger? We've learned a lot about them but I notice that there are no descriptions or pictures of them"

Francesca frowned.

"That's true Maka. To be honest I don't know what one looks like, they are simply described as warriors of the greatest quality bonded to the worthiest of Meisters"

"And how is one chosen as worthy?"

Francesca smiled eagerly, this was the topic of her doctorate essay.

"It is a peculiar event really. Kriegers are always summoned from the Hallowed Forest, which is a haunted forest after Lord Death tore the Veil, it is the only place where they can be brought forth. But occasionally a talented Meister might merit one if he or she chooses to undertake the ritual of summoning but he or she must be a four or five star Meister of course" she explained in detail not wanting to leave anything out.

"But given to serendipity Kriegers might simply fall into our world by accident but these are the black sheep of the Kriegers because they are looked as omens of great suffering to come. And wouldn't you know it, the seven times a Krieger has fallen through catastrophes have followed"

Maka's eyes shined with an imagination that was clearly painting a vivid picture.

"And are those Kriegers free? The ones who fall through?"

"I'm afraid not dear. Kriegers are like wild dogs if not bound to a Meister, they create chaos and murder for fun or perhaps out of xenophobia considering they are in another world so different from their own"

"So how does one bind a Krieger?"

"By getting it to admit defeat and through a binding ritual of course. If it doesn't the Meister must slay it, an unbound Krieger is a dangerous thing. But we have to move on to-"

The bell rang and the rest of the students rose from their seats in a sudden jolt, clearly wishing to leave the two sided conversation about Kriegers and wanting to get to their lunch period as quickly as possible.

"I can't ever seem to want my students to want to stay" muttered Francesca as she saw her lines of students all but run out of the classroom, save Maka who as usual had questions.

"When was the last time that a Krieger entered our world?"

"About one hundred and fifty years ago but she refused to admit defeat, she was met and slain as soon as she left the rift circle"

"Rift circle?"

"Oh, yes it's the place where the Veil is weakest and where the Kriegers spill out through or are summoned in the Hallowed Forest. But I don't need remind you it's discouraged for students to go there for obvious reasons"

"Oh, of course" smiled Maka as she scooted away to lunch.

Francesca smiled, Maka was such a dear girl.

"Hey Francesca Lord Death wants a staff meeting right now" shouted another teacher Sid as he ducked in and out of her classroom in a hurry.

"Why? Is there something the matter?"

"He won't say but he wasn't his usual peppy self"

-0-

The leader of the group trailed his sword behind him as all madness and hatred had been loosed upon the lingering army of his people like a falling star. Screaming to the top of his lungs alongside his comrades they charged the flank of daemons as these marched eagerly through the alleys and streets of their little city.

"For death and ruin!" screamed the girl comrade before she leaped clear over the daemon shields of the side line and disappearing into the storm of bodies and metal.

He himself dodged the staggered lines of beastly monsters that charged him in turn, howling for his flesh. Running his blade between the chinks in their plates he struck them down one by one before slamming his emaciated bulk into one of the smaller daemons pushing it into one of its fellow's spears. A blade cracked across his back denting his old breastplate, he responded by arcing his entire body in a backhanded slash that severed a daemon's face in half.

"You do not deserve to exist monster!" he shrieked at the beast he had felled before he moved on to the next.

A howling daemon three times his side called him out in challenge and bellowed as it sought to run the little mortal down. At the leader's side were two of his comrades, all three spread out and charged like a trio of arrows towards the beast. One was clubbed away like a broken doll into a wall where from bloody impact the child soldier exploded. The second pierced the beast's knee with his blade before drawing away with his flail to fend off a trio of daemons who closed in on the private battle. The leader carved the daemon's neck open as it stumbled forward on its mangled knee. Hacking blood that poured from its mortal wound the beast clutched its neck in futile desperation. The leader dragged his sword forward as he charged towards the daemon lines that flowed like a tsunami towards him.

It never once dawned on him that he was charging alone, the storm of bodies and carnage screaming around him.

The daemons streamed into the desperate human skirmishes, killing them every which way as the humans fought back to the last. Jumping or dodging around the daemons and ducking under their powerful blows to slip a blade between the breastplates.

From the nearby stone formations bellowed an enormous fiery monster, led by its impish handlers.

It charged into the mass of soldiers as it swung its enormous arms left and right knocking friend and foe into the ground where it crushed them. Crunching daemon bone and metal armor under its clawed feet it continued by picking up masses of warriors and throwing them at the stone walls.

The leader continued to hack apart the smaller daemons with a viciousness that nurtured as of late only to be knocked down by the spiked mace of a daemon marauder. His would be killer smashed the mace on his breastplate, piercing it, only to be hampered as its prey raised its gauntlets in his defense.

A sword exploded through the daemon's chest, it was connected to the slave, the leader's most despised weapon. The slave reached down to help up his leader but ducked away as the monster's claw seized his young man as it missed the slave in his swiping grasp.

In an instant both slave and leader met eyes and the soldier screamed at the servant in hatred. He was slave, how natural of his kind not to die for their betters.

The monster threw the leader at the wall with the force of a catapult and all that remained of the once proud young man was a splatter on the stone face and a crumpled broken body on the ground.

As the people prevailed in secluded battles the monster roared at the warriors who encircled it. The slave propped himself up, bloodied and bruised from whippings and nearly missed blows and snatched up his leader's blade and shrieked in frenzied rage at the beast charging it with both swords.

The slave had jumped upon the monster, stabbing both blades down into its flesh climbing up on the creature's shoulders. The beast roared in pain as it's tormentor bent itself out of its reach and danced on its body, shoulders and hands. In one flip of his body, the young man brought both of his swords screaming into the beast's eyes toppling the creature and landing upon it.

He swung both blades in a bloody arc upon the dying daemon's face again and again and again.

With his enemy's death groan the slave stabbed both blades into the monster's throat twisting them maliciously.

As the monster died the slave sat upon his knees on its chest as the blood mist lifted from his heart.

Where thousands had died in minutes in the little city, millions were charging up the and into the veins of the city like a rapid venom. He dug out an arrowhead from his shoulder as he screamed at the charging hordes. His fellows were nothing but more shrieking voices in the din of chaos. But he was not, he was most certainly not. He was slave, he would not function quietly like the way he served. He clapped his hands together creating lightning and with the echo of a drum a bubble of static electricity swelled from the heart of the ranks of charging daemons, searing and killing them.

The battle raged for minutes that felt like lifetimes. Every fallen enemy felt like a renewed chance at life with the promise of certain death as the outcome of each blow given and every breath drawn. The slave lost both his blades, one in the chest of a hellhound and another from a parry by a daemon foot soldier. Fighting with his hands he struck blow after blow holding back the daemons on his street. Blast after blast of magic was flung from his hands searing trio after trio of daemons. They held back seeing as they could not overtake the slave who stood between them and his comrades who threatened him with whips and spears should he turn tail and seek to return to their side.

His eyes wandered to the sky which now was a curtain of shadows and smoke. Before his life was to end he wondered what would await his spirit, the soul of a slave, in death.

He stared out at the hordes and welcomed them to battle a final time in defiance as the daemons surged forward and engulfed him and a great flash of light washed over him and everything else over the breast of the city.

-0-

"Lord Death, what do you mean the Veil is swelling?" asked Francesca as she and the rest of the staff of the academy looked at their master confusedly.

"I don't know how to describe it. The Kriegers must be preparing for something big, I can't think of who else would be harnessing energy at the Rift Circle. Aside from daemons but I can feel it's not them" pointed Death with his comically square hands.

"Are they mobilizing to attack us?" asked Sid

"No, Kriegers live to fight daemons and to them we are nothing more than evil spirits and kidnappers. They have no reason to come into our world other than by accident or because I pull one here" explained Lord Death.

"But something is different now?" asked Dr. Stein pushing his glasses back into place.

"Yes, perhaps their war with Hell has taken a sour turn and now they are seeking allies in strange places or an escape. Either way, Stein I want you to go to the Hallowed Forest and keep an eye on the Rift Circle in case we have visitors. You know what to do with them" said Death as he waved his people away.

A feeling in his gut told him change was coming, irreversible and powerful. But what did the Kriegers want?

-0-

"Maka why do I let you talk me into going to these places? I don't know how to deal with it" whined Crona as her brave friend led her through the gnarled trees of the Hallowed Forest. It was a little past midday but the forest was misty and murky giving the impression of sunset.

"I just want to see the Rift Circle. Don't you think that's exciting, Crona? The place where Kriegers are been brought into our world from beyond the Veil" asked Maka, a great smile on her face as she led her shy friend by the hand into the palm of the forest. But truthfully, Maka hoped she could come back to this spot with Lord Death and tame a Krieger of her own. To achieve something that her mother would be proud of.

"We're not supposed to be here Maka. What if we meet a Krieger? Then we'd have to fight it and I really don't want to think about how I'd have to deal with that"

"Don't worry Crona, I'll protect you. Besides there hasn't been a Krieger in our world for a hundred and a half years"

Reaching the most obvious clearing in the convoluted forest Maka and Crona came upon the desolate spot where the Rift Circle lay at rest. The place was a great stone circle that looked as old as death.

"Wow" uttered both girls at the same time as they took it all in.

"There, we've seen it. Can we go now?" asked Crona. She was fairly certain she couldn't handle this anymore, she just wanted to go home and do her homework like a good girl and maybe avoid rousing Ragnarok's bullying for the day.

"Crona" uttered Maka looking at her friend in disappointment.

"No, Maka. Please let's leave I have a really bad feeling about this place and I don't know how to deal with it" pleaded Crona before falling on her bottom as lightning materialized horizontally across the length and breadth of the clearing lingeringly scaring yelps out of both of them.

Both girls looked at the clearing wide eyed and confused. Lightning began to strike again and again as stones began to shift towards the center of the clearing. In the blink of an eye and with the shine of light like that of the sun, an army of daemons and horned humans materialized before them. One side charged the other in a disorganized frenzy of desperate violence.

"I told you!" shouted Crona as she dragged her friend towards the tree-line. "We should have just stayed at school but now we're really going to be in deep trouble!"

Something in the forest blasted torrents of flame through the trees and both girls ducked away from it as they were herded by the sudden confusion of the intense battle.

Leaping through the fires and moving away from the inferno both came upon a group of warriors that surrounded a woman of their species with ebony hair and silver eyes. She glanced at both Meisters and waved away one of her retinue. The one of obeyed was unarmed and unarmored, he wore little more than a ragged skirt and a chained collar.

The horned man looked like a slave, he also looked broken and exhausted. With a scream and a wave of his arm he set the forest behind Crona and Maka aflame and the daemons who were charging them as well.

"Who are they? I'm scared" whimpered Crona before drawing her blade Ragnarok.

Maka's eyes narrowed "Kriegers" she whispered as she shouldered her scythe. She could feel it, she was looking at the true warriors of legend. The ones who prevented daemons from entering the world by allying with Lord Death and fighting them into the other world. But why were there so many? And why were there daemons too?

"B-but Maka, it takes a four or five star Meister to beat one. I think we should run"

"Yeah, but he's tired and there's two of us. C'mon Crona we can do this, I doubt he'd let us go anyway"

The slave sprinted to them both, his eyes looked feverish and terrorized like a hunted creature on the verge of death.

Maka stood her ground and was swiftly blown aside by a wave of invisible force from the slave's hands. The horned man ducked as a spiked chain was thrown from the tree line by a daemon in hiding. Not missing a beat he carved his chain collar across Crona's face splitting her skin by whipping it like a long flail. Screaming in pain and fear for her friend the black blood shot out in spines that pierced the slave's flesh being too close to react quickly enough.

The Scythe Meister looked up at the scene before her as she recovered her bearings from the jarring blow and subsequent impact against a tree.

Three spines pierced the horned slave through the thigh, the stomach and one just barely piercing his neck. The slave's expression was blank and shocked, as the seconds ticked by and the din of battle died out the man's eyes softened to a dreamy expression and a pathetic frown.

Crona retracted her black blood's spines and held her sword out defensively at the slave.

"I don't want to hurt you, but if you try to hurt Maka I will kill you. Just give up and leave us alone"

Tears brimmed on the eyes of the slave and they sharpened with equal parts humiliation and fury. Exhaling a long ragged breath he fell to his knees and prostrated himself before Crona. Maka and her friend looked at the slave in blank shock, neither sure what she should do. After a long moment the slave stood uncertainly and threw the chain from his collar at Crona's feet.

"Crona"

"Y-yeah?"

"I think you are his master now"

"B-but I don't know how to deal with that. I really, really don't want a Krieger. Look at him, he's dirty and scary and he tried to kills us a second ago and he has horns like an ox, I don't want him"

Maka frowned at her nervous and unwilling friend.

"Well too bad. You beat him and now he's yours"