Chapter 1
"Am ende bleib ich doch alleine, die Zeit steht still, und mir ist kalt"
Rammstein "Seemann"
"Vlad! Don't let me die in vain. Please avenge me Vlad!" While those words echoed in my ears, I futilely attempted to will myself up to my feet again. I already lost excessive amounts of blood, and struggled with remaining conscious. The last thing I saw before descending into unconsciousness was a dagger being driven into her chest as she stretched her right hand out to me, and a stream of tears cascading down her eyes. I too tried to reach out to her, but my efforts were in vain. While my vision faded to black, I was able to hear a whimper followed by malevolent cackling.
It has been 4 years since she screamed those words to me, and although I avenged her death, those accursed words, to this very day, continue to haunt me. Even that look of despair in her eyes torments me, and robs me of any peace I've longed for. Four years have passed since she perished, and her screams, that stare, and my scars still remind me of my failure to protect her. All I do now to seek reprieve from the past is drink and drink some more. Based on how much of it I do, you'd think I was a bike gang member, or a volatile sailor who swears and brawls just as much as he drinks. Truth be told, I'm a demon weapon, a Death Scythe, and a former student of the DWMA.
My partner, Sareena Engel, and I, were an ideal team; she was my Meister, and I her trusted weapon. Together her and I annihilated countless pre-kishiins, witches, and other threats that Lord Death himself wished to be neutralized. Aside from being two respected students, partners, and good friends, her and I above all else harbored an amorous bond. If you walked up and asked Sid, Naigus, Marie, Spirit, Stein, whoever, they can verify that her and I were inseparable. She radiated with innocence and beauty, and was a pious scholar with whom I shared countless discussions on varying topics, some which spanned all through the night. We fought side by side for five years, and we scarcely struggled in completing our missions. However all that forever changed, and to my everlasting shame, I woefully remained alive rather than dying by her side or in her stead.
"Hey, buddy! I'm cuttin' ya off." My brooding thoughts were interrupted as I looked up from my empty glass to the bartender. "Look, I think you've had enough, pal. Seriously, just get out and sleep it off alright?" With a false merry smile I pushed my glass towards him, and in a calm voice told the gentleman: "Kindly refill my glass before the house special becomes your fucking blood." His stern look immediately vanished upon hearing my potential promise and he hurriedly refilled my glass with more rum. I merely chuckled in satisfaction, raised my glass to him and said with a wicked grin before downing my grog: "Much obliged, sir. Bottoms up."
I finished my drink, put the glass on the counter, and pulled out a handful of bills to leave the now timid bartender. "Here, for dealing with my bullshit, " I said. He looked at the pile and asked me with a look of surprise, "Are you serious about handing me all this?" I merely nodded as I turned towards the exit while putting on my trench coat. Upon exiting the bar, I lifted up the collar of my coat, put a cigarette in my mouth, lit it, and began to walk into the dark embrace of night.
Hello everyone, this is the Lonelyphantom 21. I want to sincerely apologize, but I wasn't sure how to properly revise and republish the original rendition of the story. So I ended up deleting the original so I can republish this newly redone one. I promise that a new chapter is in the works, and will be published soon. It's been difficult finding sufficient time to write while managing a full-time job, finishing schoolwork and making plans to move overseas. Thanks for the patience and appreciation of this tale.