Remembrance
Laid before me a deserted village stood. Blackened by the flames of chaos that once licked it and the thick stench of dried blood and disintegrated Grimm. Not really a rare sight nowadays, it's actually surprisingly common.
I walked past a rather chewed up skeleton; looks as though it was dragged around by some Grimm judging by the trail of blood leading to it and the snapped blade lying next to it suggests that the poor fellow tried to fight back, though it still ended with their death.
I shook my head and sighed. Being eaten by a Grimm is not a good way to go. Sights like this aren't good for one's soul and mind. I had many a friend who just couldn't handle stuff like this and had ended their own life. Such a shame.
I always wondered to myself, 'what happens to your soul when a Grimm devours you?' does it end up going to the afterlife so wonderfully praised by many religions? Or is it corrupted beyond recognition and used to fuel the very creation of things that we deemed our mortal
enemies? Who knows.
"Now is not the time to be philosophical." I muttered to myself, turning away from the skeleton and beginning to make my way towards one of the more stable buildings in the village. It was one of the larger buildings in the village, the signs suggest an inn, but the boarded up windows and bullet casings suggest an improvised fortress. Its stone walls seem pretty solid, and most likely they still are, the only thing that seemed to have caused the defender's demise was the severe lack of a door which, from closer inspection, was charged by multiple Grimm which ripped it off its hinges and left the building's occupants vulnerable… they were slaughtered.
I brought out my revolver and began surveying my surroundings, the bulk of the Grimm horde may have left, but it isn't uncommon for a few Grimm to lag behind. Many Huntsman died or were greatly injured because they foolishly assumed all the Grimm have left.
My suspicions were correct, standing behind the bar table, sniffing through the few remaining bottles of alcohol was a Beowulf. I immediately raised my arm, pointing the revolver at the Beowulf and began to unload its cylinder into the beast quickly. Its booming shots reverberated throughout the ramshackled interior of the inn followed by a short, surprised howl coming from the Beowulf before it collapsed to the ground and dispersed into a black mist with a satisfying hiss.
I walked over to the bar and began inspecting the undamaged bottles of alcohol. Some of them look pretty good, and that large bottle of gin looks particularly appetizing. "Hmm, I think everyone else back at base could use a good drink, maybe, maybe give them all a nice cold glass of Gin and Tonic?" I picked up the bottle of gin and chuckled. "Though in all likelihood it would probably just cause more fights." I gazed at the liquid inside the glass bottle before I grew a small grin. "I'll just take it anyway." I opened the large, green duffle bag being carried by my side and put the gin inside it. I moved the other contents around to make a safer place for the gin to lie.
I went to zip the bag back up, but I stopped halfway as my eyes lingered on two sheathed blades resting next to the bottle of gin. I let out a long sigh, those blades got me through many life threatening situations, and now they are laying in this bag collecting dust. I went to close the bag again, but the movement knocked the blade out of its sheath and allowed me to glance upon my bandaged face.
As soon as my deep blue eyes made contact, memories began to resurface… memories of my days at school. Memories of how this all began.
Einar Cerulean let out a content sigh as he walked out of his house, taking a second to enjoy the bite of the cold air of Solitas. "Try not to get killed!" Einar's father shouted to Einar just before he had closed the door. "I won't!" Einar shouted back, pulling his duffle bag of the floor and throwing it over his shoulders before walking away from his house.
The airships shouldn't be hard to get to. It took a little while on foot, about half an hour to be precise. Half an hour of listening and sometimes bearing witness to the marching of Atlesian soldiers along with those AK-130 robots that the military is so fond of. They made Einar slightly uneasy. Seeing their ever increasing usage of robots seems like a waste and would put some people out of jobs that they desperately need.
Einar shook away the feeling and made his way onto the air docks, swiping his credit card on a ticket machine. He tapped the Vale icon on its screen and the machine made a whirring sound before ejecting a green ticket that Einar quickly swiped out of the machine.
He walked onto one of the large airships Atlas is famous for and handed the ticket to the flight attendant. Einar quickly found a nice place to sit and took a moment to look over the city of Mantle. It was completely covered in snow this time of year… well it's completely covered in snow no matter what time of year it is. Even the roads are covered in a thick blanket of snow. The local council didn't bother to grit the roads, which basically caused the locals to give up on using any vehicles to get around. Preferring to walk around or maybe take a bike. It takes longer to get around but it definitely keeps them in better shape than the greedy bigots that reside in the city of Atlas.
Einar sat there for a long time, just staring. Soon the airship took off. He watched as the ground moved further and further away, the once defined buildings getting engulfed in the bright white of the snow laying on top of it.
He leaned his face against the glass and closed his eyes. For the next four years Einar will be in Vale, attending Beacon, the most prestigious academy in all of Remnant.