Warning: This story will, contain violence, language, and extremely convenient situations (at least).On a lighter note, be warned that drama really isn't my thing so don't be too cruel with reviews (or is that a heavier note?)

Disclaimer: I don't own Drakengard though it would be awesome to tell people that I do since it's such a wonderfully psychotic series. Well, I wouldn't want to claim ownership to the giant babies.

Vein of Grief

Chapter 1

Crimson blood will flow. Caim laughed in pure mirth as those words echoed through his mind. He could see the front line of the Empire's red-eyed soldiers lined up from afar. The battle will begin soon.

"Lord Caim, we have prepared the catapults and the archers are ready to fire when you give the signal," said a plain faced knight, just one of many casualties to come.

Caim barely acknowledged his existence, his mind was already nearing that place…where he really wasn't human anymore or maybe it was the pure delight he took from bloodshed that made him more human then the rest of these people whose eyes couldn't hide their horror.

Furiae was safe at the Castle of the Goddess and Inuart was with her so Caim felt that he was free to just battle. The former Prince turned toward his unit of scared young men. They were always the ones at the front, the old soldiers, the survivors, knew better.

"Fire the catapults," Caim commanded. There was a small lag as the order was passed back and soon flaming debris was thrown at the enemy line. It was the start of Caim's first 'official' battle against the Empire.

He drew his sword and took a moment to feel its sure, cold weight in the palm of his hand before he raced forward, leading the charge on foot. There was no need for horses in such a close battle. Besides, he thought that the generals on their horses were just trying to take themselves away from the face-to-face carnage in battle and Caim certainly didn't want that.

His breath and pulse quickened at once when he drove his sword right through the first unlucky soldier's helmet. An arc of blood wet his skin, Caim turned his head downward to prevent it from getting in his eyes as he turned and slashed one of the men who tried to get past him.

Screams, blood, pain, and the delicious look of horror and agony on the victim's faces engulfed him. Caim laughed and pushed forward. More bodies, more blood, more ache.

'Crimson blood will flow', she had said before they went off to battle. The daft fortuneteller had warned them of this, like violence and bloodshed were something new to the art of battle.

"More. Come if you wish for death," he hissed as he grabbed the hand of another soldier. He had noticed out of the corner of his eye that the young man was trying to escape back through the ranks as soon as he saw Caim. The bloodthirsty warrior's smile widened as he drove his sword through the space between the breastplate and his arm, slicing soft flesh before bringing his sword out and driving it in again.

Bloodshed is the only thing that comes of battle. War can be sensible but I can't understand you preoccupation with taking lives.

Caim blinked as he felt the bite of metal at his left shoulder. The pain was delayed but it may as well have been an aphrodisiac for him. That same, twisted grin was turned toward the man lucky enough to have hurt him. He lost his head in one smooth slash that sent two other men back in the process. Battle was his realm.

Damn human. You're only 'alive' when taking the lives of others? Isn't there something better you could be doing with that brute strength of yours?

Caim slid on blood, the once green grass was crimson. He turned, ready to strike as he felt someone come up behind him but his sword stayed an inch from the man's head when he recognized the blue of the Union.

"Lord Caim, they have reinforcements. They're attacking our flank," the man said, visibly quite terrified.

Caim squinted. the man's words were fuzzy to his battle-addled brain. It took them a minute to even compute as he stabbed an unsuspecting soldier that tried to take out the messenger. Their flank. The Empire had more soldiers? They were already outnumbered from the start. His eyes showed a bit more then bloodlust at the thought. If they were all killed here then the rest of the army would march onward. Their goal was the castle of the Goddess. To kill Furiae. Caim bit his tongue and finally found his voice.

"Send a message to Lord Merrive's men. They're supposed to be stationed on the far side of the field. Perhaps they can cut off the reinforcements."

The man nodded and he was off. Caim tried to get his mind to focus as he once again raced off to the heat of battle. He didn't want to think about it, all he wanted to do was play his part as a soldier and kill all the Empire bastards. Even if it cost his life, for what other use was there for it?

Go ahead and keep killing, human. I won't stop you. There is amusement in watching your confusion.

Confusion? He wasn't confused at all. Caim sailed through three larger knights and let three fireballs flow from his hand, more like water then fire. He watched with morbid satisfaction as they were engulfed and he was off again. No, all he had to do was fight. Lord Merrive may be a coward but his underlings were smart enough to know the current battle was vital to their overall success.

Still belaboring that issue? I suppose you'll just have to be shown…not that I think you could ever change.

It was the Caim noticed that the words he assumed were remembered from that damned fortune teller were actually resounding in his head. The voice was smooth, feminine, and cruelly uncaring. He paused long enough to receive a shallow hit in the side before he repelled from the oncoming enemy and sliced into three of them viciously. What was it?

Hold on. Hmm, 'Crimson blood will flow'. I agree, it's a stupid thing to say.

Caim spun for another round but as he turned the entire world went black. He blinked. Had he gone blind? The knight struck out at the enemy he knew was in front of him but his sword came into contact with nothing. He noticed that the air was heavier and he could barely breathe for the smell. It was distinctly ashen, like he were engulfed by flames. Caim looked down at his bloody armor. He could clearly see it, so he couldn't have gone blind.

"…Where am I?"

You can go ahead and struggle. It's more amusing that way.

Now the voice sounded like it was coming from all around him, the cause of all this. He wasn't going to play the game. No need to give satisfaction to the enemy that he couldn't even sense. Caim bit his tongue again and drove his sword into the ground.

Good boy.

Instead of falling right into the black void, as he expected, the blade sunk into the ground, giving some resistance like he had pushed it into soft earth. Green spread forth from the tip of the blade, like a drop of color into a basin of clear water. The air was still heavy but there was distinct moisture and it wasn't long before Caim turned his head up to see the sky. It was raining. He pushed his long bangs away from his face and took a good look around.

The countryside was vastly unfamiliar; all he could see through the gloom of the storm was green grass weighed down by the rain. So he was in the middle of a field. From the looks of things this area was abandoned. All was perfectly silent with the exception of the downpour. It was so frighteningly calm. Caim looked down at himself again and saw the mingled blood start to fade with the water. His wounds must have been getting to him as everything blurred. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, he was too exhausted.

I suppose I should welcome you, Caim. Have a nice time.

Okay so this was just a start. I know it's short, I just wanted to put it up and take note of what people might think. Like I said before, drama isn't my strongpoint so I hope that it was okay.