I watched that final battle from a distant vantage, disembodied and drifting.

And how would you expect me to watch it? I was dead.

After my final confession, I had expected my soul to immediately ascend to heaven or plummit to hell. But the Lord had other plans. Some things had to be finished before others could begin.

My soul had been inexplicably bound to theirs since childhood, though I didn't realize it for a long, long time. But the day that Knives visited the orphanage with his ultimatum, some things were brought into sharp focus. There is no escaping destiny.

I was there in the oasis, watching Knives sip his wine like an aristocrat. Made my blood boil. Villains have no right to that kind of peace and serenity, and certainly not the blonde-haired devil himself. The term "sinner" was coined specifically as a description for Millions Knives. It had to have been. He was the epitome of pure, unadulterated evil. A demon through and through.

What was it about Knives that struck me as most odd when I met him for the first time? He permeated ill-will. Oozed it from every pore. And yet the composure never broke, never faltered for a minute. He remained straight-faced while discussing the fates of the orphans, should I choose to resist. Never flinched once as he spoke of how I would be rewarded for my obedience. If I chose obedience, I chose life. What other choice was there?

And once I was employed in his service, I saw him a few other times in person. He would not look you in the eye. He looked through your eyes, daring you to have the audacity to maintain contact. And as much of a rebel as I've always been, there was no power in heaven that could compel me to meet his piercing, blue-eyed gaze. I would sooner have thrown myself down a canyon. Knives's was the authority of a completely and utterly sane madman. Reason drove him to madness. He would not hesitate to slaughter me if I had not proven a useful servant.

Do I hate Millions Knives? Yes, there is no question. Do I wish him dead? With every fiber of my spirit, yes. And although I wondered whether Vash would have the courage to eliminate his brother, I should have known all along that he wouldn't. And the enemy lives on, and humanity is still threated by his presence.

But it isn't my problem any more. If there is one thing this dead man has earned, it is rest.

May God protect you, Vash the Stampede. I hope you know what you're doing, because I don't.