A/N : Here's part 2...

Honestly I feel it's a bit rushed and not really thought out, as I was simply letting my mind wander and guide my thumbs through the keypad (I'm currently writing all pieces in my BlackBerry phone then uploading them later)...

DISCLAIMER : I DO NOT OWN BLASSREITER. BLASSREITER IS OWNED BY GONZO AND NITRO+.

At first it was only my eyes: from brown, it turned to white. It was followed by my body, specifically my arms and hands: they were encased in black plating, seemingly of hard steel.

Finally it was the maddening sense of anger that overcame me.

At first it came like a headache, a really bad headache, enough to make me cry out in pain, on my knees, hands on my head, almost tearing my hair out. Gradually it died out, being replaced by a sense of power, of calm. And when I opened my eyes I finally saw.

I was now physically transformed. From a five-foot, ten-inch tall human girl, I was now a six-foot, black-armored knight with two long swords in both hands.

The change is in no way frightening; rather, it felt so wonderful, so calming.

It felt so right.

Almost as if I was... Destined... To be this. However, my own mother was horrified at my transformation.

Well, at least she was at first. When she saw how this new form helped me get to her in time to shield her from an oncoming strike, and how I was easily able to turn the tables, she slowly understood.

The other villagers weren't so accepting. They had heard of the "outbreak" in Germany, and adapted the derisive term to the monsters that regularly came in droves. They also bestowed the same hated term to me, who was helping them drive off the attackers.

Demoniac.

That name only served to anger me further. I, who only wanted nothing but the peace and quiet of my old life, am now aligned with those mindless abominations.

My turning point came on a particularly dark, still night. There was no wind, and oddly not even stars. The Demoniacs suddenly descended on us and effortlessly slaughtered most of the populace, who were asleep. Thankfully, Mother woke up almost immediately and bundled my little brother into a small, carriable cocoon and slung him in front of me, bidding me to escape to our vacation mansion. She was moving like a whirlwind, gathering supplies as fast as she can.

Sadly, she wasn't fast enough to dodge a demoniac arm-spear that struck from behind, striking through her heart and lungs, almost instantly killing her.

I lost it completely. With a bellow of rage I shifted into my "cursed" Demoniac form, and slaughtered the soulless amalgamation of machinery and once-human body parts that made the unforgivable mistake of going for my mother. Afterwards I turned to where my mother's dead body lay and inspected it. Thankfully I was able to keep her body safe and prevent those monsters from corrupting her.

After setting my little brother and my mother's dead corpse in a safely secluded corner, I turned my attention to the gathering horde. There seemed to be one like me, a "higher form", directing the attack. This one had dark brown armor and held a spear.

I made my way towards this figure, with the lesser ghouls seeming to make a path for me. My surprise was complete when I heard the other Demoniac speak. "Ah, so good to see you, my brother in blood. Or is it sister...? Your new form makes it hard to tell. "

"Who are you and why are you doing this." I was surprised to hear my voice in a metallic tone and range, yet still undoubedly mine. Time enough to reflect on that later.

"Oho, so you are Master Xargin's niece, yes? So he did give you the gift. And from what I see, you accepted it wholeheartedly." I swear I could see a smirk on his face, amidst the horrified gasps and accusing stares thrown my way by the remaining villagers, who were all watching this little exchange.

"Accepted? He never game me anything. In fact he only accepted a drink of palm wine from me, nothing more." I tried to rack my memory. It had only been a few days, so why did it seem so distant and hazy now...?

He raised a finger, tut-tutting. "Oh, but he certainly did. Most likely he used the same method to give you something to drink."

That hit me like a wrecking ball. The one-eighth glass of palm wine, and the wound on his finger. He must have let one drop of his blood onto the palm wine and let me drink.

And I never even noticed it.

Any comments or reviews are greatly appreciated, not necessarily required.

Sanguis out.