Spite of Santa Muerte
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You may skip this if you want to miss my secret,
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The sun was setting, the sky was in a crimson fever, a blood meridian.
See the orphaned juvenile, the young girl in the violet frilly dress, her skin pale as porcelain and eyes red as a ruby, now stood still as a statue on the windy barren fields as a price for her failure. Her murder weapon, an oversized silver lance, was still gripped by one of her petite hands.
The orphan's name was Shalltear Bloodfallen.
Despite being an orphan, she was created with a silver platter of divine and world items, blessed with a pretty face and the superhuman physique of a True Vampire. Coupled with the non-existent parenting, it predictably leads to a putrid bratty attitude where she stomps onto the lives of others like a toddler and an anthill.
When her task was as simple as "bring back a martial artist" with a liberal economy of interpretations. Of that impulse, she failed the task that was assigned to her by her oh-so-neglectful stepfather. Only shredded flesh, mashed bones and spilt blood belonging to a bunch of thieves, an innocent passerby and some god-fearing folks were left in the wake of her childish impulse.
She has gone complacent, that was until the ants she was stomping bit back. The spell "Downfall of Castle and Country", cast by a citizen from the Theocracy, hit her like a much-needed spank in the ass. Now she became nothing but a lost doll, in sorcery terms "mind controlled". In a convenient twist of fate, her master, the caster of that spell of castles and countries, had been killed by the Vampiric brat in a tragic accident. This unironically emancipated her into a masterless and motionless doll.
Oh, when she was ready to be attacked, she shall fight back like a "raid boss" and then would be reclaimed by her Stepfather, the neglectful pathetic irresponsible man that put her to her doomed task of murder and kidnapping. A man she worshipped.
That was an affront to liberty and potential.
So a mighty crack shattered a plot of land a few inches from where the orphan stood. Icy blue mists of death seeped from the jagged line of chaos that shattered time and space. From it, a thing with the shape of a young woman crawled out.
She was dressed in a white vestment, the one you people from the other side know as a "nun robe". Two stilettos strapped to her tights. A scythe rested on her elbow and one of her free palms held a golden ball with six gems etched onto it. Each gem was as big as a walnut, each carrying a colour from the rainbow spectrum. She had short blond hair, fiery red eyes and a face-splitting smile that resembled that of a cat.
This being from another world was a lost Saint, this being IS me.
I bend down slightly to stare down at the little brat with a smile of hate. As expected, the mind-controlled child was unresponsive, and those responsible had long fled the scene.
This was the three hundred and sixty-fifth time I attempted this, and my failures can be counted with the whole of the Xiuhpohualli calendar. Even if I have been to the abyss of chaos, stared into it and learnt its truth. There were rules I am to follow or my pain and my death follows. Then in death, I would return for a new but similar beginning, back when the stepfather and his cult of orphans came to this world in their Great Tomb.
The rules were:
No spoilers.
No direct intervention.
Never use all six miracles.
Break the rules, the world will break you. Pain would be my sole warning.
I held up my golden ball for I was going to use two of the eight miracles. Blue patterns of chaos lit up in a brilliant glow and spidered throughout my robes and face. The first gem on my golden ball cracked. I gagged out blood as my waist was crushed by an unknown force, just as how I died as a mortal back in one of my many previous lives at the hands of that bastard.
Blue mists of sin started to engulf and swallow Shalltear Bloodfallen, she weaved forward and backwards before falling onto her back. She closed her eyes and drifted into a deep sleep. At the cost of a huge ounce of her strength and experience, I both cursed and blessed her with something inconceivable to her:
"Freedom".
The next time she opens her eyes, she will awake as a blank slate, or at least given the chance to live as someone else.
Now,
I proclaimed with a shaky bated breath as I wept blood with a struggling smile.
The Second Miracle.
The second gem on my ball turned black and exploded into million shards, another explosion of pain shot into my gut as my weakened form forced me to use my scythe as a staff. The pain was worth it, for if there was no pain there was no game. Even if, at this point I am just gambling, putting all my money onto a single bet, again.
I am summoning a Beast that hopefully won't fail me this time. A beast from the northern plains of what used to be known as the "New World" from a time and place far from this one.
A bright circle spawn next to the sleeping Vampire, a skull was in its middle and symbols of the Old Circular Calendar occupied each arc. Out of the earth, vomited another being, my Beast.
The Beast bears the form of a sleeping maiden with long white hair, fair skin and glossy blue lips. Both motherly and sensual were her exterior. Truth be told, she had no other gifts nor cheats, just a few negligible ones compared to many others in this cruel world. She has no magic, physically her strength dwarfed the vampire sleeping next to her and she was as flimsy as a base mortal human.
However, I have great hopes for her.
Nested within that feminine body that I gave her, to punish her, was a soul that belonged to an utmost chauvinistic man of great talent and resourcefulness, that destroyed many lives single-handedly out of greed and pride. A hateful old man whose talents will be of great use to this world and an affront to the bastard I despised. The perfect Beast to lead lambs astray.
I may sound hypocritical, but for now, he is the best I can afford. You from behind the screen can criticise me for using fire against fire, but my motives were never saintly in the first place. What I did was for myself, out of hatred, vengeance and prejudice.
Mea Culpa.
I can tolerate sinners, despite me being a saint who is soft on the astray, I can't tolerate condescension and complacency. After all, I often represented and protected all things illegal.
So wake up Cowpoke, wake up Yanqui. It's time for you to challenge death, law and the strong once again, bring me my Paraíso Apocalipsis. I whispered into the Beast's ear with bleeding lips. I laughed spitefully as I weakly made distance between me and the sleeping duo, moving with a hunched back using the scythe as a staff.
They won't see me until the next time they make home in the capital of the Kingdom, where I shall come with a bowl and a begging for their charity. Till then, I shall watch their careers attentively.
The sun has now completely set, and the red in the sky has decayed into black. My tracks faded into nothing less as I shall be condemned to suffer and haunt this world, my scorn and empathy for lives wronged being my manna.
My words of advice to my Beast that would be missed:
This accursed land takes blood as payment for riches beyond your wildest dream, dig deep, dream big. However, always keep this in mind, when a crime is not punished quickly, people feel it is safe to do wrong.
Till then, buenas noches, my audience from the other side!
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AN:
This is written after the prologue and Arc 3 Chap 1