So. That thing I didn't get done in time for the competition. Also not nearly as refined as I'd get it to for a competition, but I am so ready to be done with this thing now.
Disquieting Mercy
Beneath a red moon, a village stood stained in red. Throughout every corner, beneath every eave, beyond every door and window. Cobblestone soiled in it, glass splashed with it, streets and sidewalks smeared in it. There were few signs of life, though by the dim lighting within houses and beneath street lamps, shadows moved to and fro, fleeting signs of awareness.
She was one of those shadows, a dark form in the shade. “How? How did you find me so quickly, princess?” Her voice was oddly masculine, deep, resounding; not what one expected from the body of a teenage girl. A pale arm extended from beneath a black cloak as if to beckon.
The moonlit sky and the village drowned in red shared the color smeared on Arcueid’s fingertips, reflected in her eyes. The True Ancestor regarded her stained skin with an odd expression between mirth and sorrow. “You lacked subtlety this time, Roa.” Arcueid’s gaze wandered over the pile of corpses she had made to reach the one responsible. “An entire village cannot go silent without being noticed.”
The woman called Roa scowled—an ugly expression on an otherwise beatific face. She shook her head and dark locks swayed in front of her glowing eyes. She watched carefully as Arcueid moved past the rotting corpses of Ghouls and into the community hall where Roa had been making her abode. The skylight above them bathed the True Ancestor in dimmed red light. “You have no capacity to notice such things, princess. Your senses are as dull as ever—”
There was a scream off in the distance, beyond the walls of the building they inhabited. It resounded through the hall, echoing the screams that must have been uttered by the bodies piled within.
“The humans are not so bad at this either, you know.” Arcueid closed her eyes, head tilted aside as if contemplating the complexities of an orchestral sound. “When they get going, some of them are more adept at finding trouble than I am.”
In the distance beyond the gloom and bloody light came voices—townspeople finally reacting to the massacre that had befallen them. The occasional scream pierced the shallow illusion of tranquility that Roa had maintained up until this night. Many of the screams were then followed by the rabid, animal-like moaning of hunger from one of Roa’s subjects. The spell that had been laid over the village’s borders was broken entirely and the remaining inhabitants removed from the fugue state trapping their minds.
Beyond that, past the illusionary night and the true darkness that crept up from bellow, a third presence made itself known: the calm, monastic chanting from the far end of the village.
“I kill, I give life. I injure, I heal.”
The cloak around Roa’s shoulders fell back around her pale body. “The Church. You sink so low as to let humans do your work for you?”
“Oh, that’s not true,” Arc said. The lunar princess smiled, smiled like the cat Roa once said she resembled when cornering prey. Her tone held the same sense of vicious amusement. “I still do my part.”
While the others prayed, it was Kirei’s job to act.
The village was a small thing, probably the most insignificant location Kirei had ever spent more than an hour in besides the occasional old monastery or church his studies had taken him to. It could not have contained much more than a thousand people and had a nearly medieval air to it: buildings and streets of old stone, worn walkways branching off without signs, hardly any motor vehicles parked out on the curb. While telephone lines still marred the view and the occasional television could be seen on beyond house windows, it was still a place almost transplanted out of an elder century.
That perhaps lent it a terrible edge when creatures seemingly out of fairytale could wander about.
It took little to penetrate the boundary field surrounding the town, warding off outsiders from entry and villagers from leaving. The very presence of an older Executors could very well have broken the spell—with a team of over a dozen the barrier had eroded without trouble. With the field’s fall, the people still living within came out of the dream-like haze cast over their eyes and some began to experience the terrible things that welcomed their awakening: the dead, and the Dead.
The few that had yet to be victimized were soon out on the streets, fleeing the horrors they awoke to, only to come upon more once in the open. Ghouls wandered the streets like patrolling public safety, bodies rotting and clothes coming apart. Those that met them then fled back the way they came, until the streets were a furor of panicking people resembling the proverbial headless chicken.
At the sight of uniformed men—even if their uniforms were religious smocks and robes—people began to flee in their direction outwards from the center of town. The Executors formed a rough circle around the town, at least two to every road leading out, with Kirei attached to the main road leading to the highway.
“There are none who escape from my hands. There are none who escape from my eyes.”
Undead chased the still-living, grasping for that which differentiated them. Some of the experienced Executors sent Keys flying into the flailing bodies and gaping maws of the blood-seekers, though Kirei was not one of them. Instead, the youngest Executor on the team made straight for a fallen child, a boy no more than six or seven, left stumbling behind the adults that fled on longer legs.
“Stay still for a moment,” Kirei said, kneeling over the child. Thoughts cycling through the various training regimes he had undergone, he focused on those related to the spiritual medium that would save the boy.
The boy’s left leg had a protrusion apparent even beneath the jean trousers he wore. He cried, though no sound issued from his throat other than the harsh breaths he took.
“Your leg will mend in a moment, but it will hurt. Prepare yourself.”
Terror filled the child’s eyes, but as Kirei looked up to address the fear, he understood it was not from him. The sound of movement came from over his shoulder, lumbering and awkward, not the motion of a living villager fleeing from the doomed town.
Kirei did not move away, did not flinch, did not even appear to take notice of his imminent doom. He concentrated on the healing of the child to the very last, his hands over their broken leg, reconnecting bone and tissue until it was like new, his prayer bringing forth the child’s own energies to expedite the healing process. “Flee the moment I move,” he said to the boy.
The child winced, eyes still on the approaching shapes beyond the dark veil of night. They came from further down the street, closer to the town’s civic hall.
Executors continued their chanting. The two with Kirei had little combat ability between them, relying on his own abilities as physical defense. Kirei focused, prayed, his hand grasping the child’s leg to the bitter end.
“May it be that you are shattered.”
The walking corpse was quicker than its decaying flesh and rotten musculature should have allowed for. It cast a flickering shadow over the both of them within seconds, pouncing at them like a predator of the savannah.
The child’s bone set just in time. The moment the blood-sucker stepped into range, Kirei turned, leapt from his crouched position, and smashed his knee into the Ghoul’s face.
The blow carried them to the adjacent building. Then into the wall. Then past it.
Without so much as a pause to consider his handiwork, Kirei quietly stepped back out through the hole he had created, the undead creature’s head no longer able to sustain animation in its current paste form. The young Executor watched as the child fled beyond the line of cloaked assembly members, the two that he could see forming the edge of a circle they had slowly closing in on the village, a boundary field of exorcism. Those dead and Dead they now passed would find themselves cleansed and destroyed.
“I welcome the defeated, the aged. Surrender to me, learn from me, obey me.”
Kirei pulled Black Keys from his robes and moved out ahead of the Executor line, scanning the side-streets and alleyways as he did so. Blades at the ready, he waited for the appearance of more heretical creatures, eyes sensitive to the movement that would give the undead away.
There was far too little movement with each pathway he passed. There were instead more remains, far more bodies than Dead or Ghouls. Old men and women unable to protect their aged bodies, young men and women unable to outrun being consumed, children in horrified death throes waiting for a terrible nightmare to end. Occasionally, when he thought he might have seen signs of movement within buildings, he would peer inside to see more, some silent in the darkness, others faintly illuminated by the flicker of light within.
Sighing, Kirei joined in with the rite’s next line, wondering how perfunctory it was to so many that must have died in such fear and agony.
“May you be at rest.”
Glass rained as the concussive might from Roa’s spell destroyed the skylight. The framework bent and twisted at odd angles, buckled as if stretched, then groaned as Arcueid took hold of one errant steel bar. The vampire princess pulled herself up atop the latticework, a trapeze artist without a net, settling atop footholds that should have been too narrow to hold her aloft. She brushed a hand back over her shoulder and scowled.
“Why the face, princess?” the voice of Roa wafted from below.
“Something like disappointment,” Arcueid said. “Or annoyance. Your work is getting sloppy.”
The bolt of electricity struck a scant moment after Arcueid cleared her steel perch, gracefully leaping to another location just as precarious—but one that was no longer connected to the beam Roa aimed for. She landed in a crouch, ready to leap once more if another strike came, though the spell never materialized. Idly, the True Ancestor watched the piece of metal fall like ash from a cigarette as it melted from the sudden rise in temperature.
“It’s like you want me to be right,” the princess added, but before she could continue, her red eyes widened in sudden awareness. Light flared up all around her, cycling energy back and forth, centered around where Arcueid’s right foot had found purchase. The True Ancestor raised her arms just as gouts of white shot around and through her, over and over, until the space about her resembled the full white moon.
Snarling, Arcueid shot clear of the spell like one of the emanating bolts only to be met by Roa at her destination. Both vampires made to plunge their fingertips into the other’s throat, both avoiding the other blow by a hair’s breadth; air whipped a tear into Roa’s neck while electricity stung at Arcueid’s.
“Set!” Roa shouted.
The spell that had briefly surrounded Arcueid discharged toward the pair as Roa encircled Arcueid with her arms to trap her.
Golden eyes lit up as destruction tore into the True Ancestor once more.
The Executors closed in until only one building remained within their ring. Three of the assembled broke from the main group to attend to the few villagers that remained. Kirei turned his gaze to the leader of the unit, a wiry man with prematurely pale hair. “Eiri, Kirei, enter from the far side. We will keep the front entrance blockaded.” He gave the young Executors a sharp look. “Be cautious, as it is likely that one is within, engaging the target.”
Kirei glanced once to his assigned partner and gave an acknowledging nod. The duo then hastened to circle opposite of the civic center’s facing side. Here, there were also signs of death and decay, though only due to bloodstains and filth splashed along the wall; no bodies were to be found. The Executors still boxing the building in continued their prayer, a chorus following them down the line.
“May you rest in my hands. Let there be a mark of your sins. Eternal life is found only in death.”
The nondescript back exit to the community hall was locked. With one silent look to his partner, Kirei smashed the doorframe apart and wrenched the door open. As expected, the undead within reacted to the loud intrusion and Eiri Fumizuka swept past Kirei, Black Keys soaring this way and that.
The duo swiftly cleared the back hallway of five corpses, though they eyed the building’s interior carefully. The hall split off almost immediately and partially-ajar doors lined either direction.
“Lord be with us,” Eiri said, taking the left divergence. Kirei nodded in agreement, taking the right. The chanting from the Executors without followed them in.
“Forgiveness is before you, and so my incarnation vows.”
Like trained military, Kirei cleared each room he came across along the way, though it was not until his hall took a turn that he encountered them. Faster and without the decaying flesh of those outside, the Dead midway down the corridor seemed to startle as he rounded the corner, then was charging at the same time Kirei sent blades flying. The undead creature leapt and twisted in the air, avoiding all three spellswords, though breaking stride to do so.
Kirei was upon it the moment it had a foot grounded, stabbing another trio of Keys into the Dead. Its response was to bleed what it had consumed from the village upon the floor.
Footsteps thumped beyond, from a doorway down the corridor the Dead had appeared. Another swift undead human shot out and toward the Executor.
Kirei took another half-step. With the same arm that had wielded the Black Keys, he struck in a twofold manner, the signature raking motion of baji quan. His fist tore into the first Dead’s body, then his elbow struck the pommels of his sacraments.
The Black Keys shot out from the back of the ravaged body, crossing the expanse like bullets, the Dead beyond not quick enough to turn out of the way. It fell face-forward and slid along the wooden floor to Kirei’s feet. The Executor stomped on that corpse’s head as he used his blocking arm to shove the first into the wall, a wet snapping noise piercing the low thump from the impact.
More hurried steps echoed down the wooden floor of the hallway, at least two more sets. The corridor took another turn and Kirei came just shy of the corner, spun on his heel, and came up and around with his other foot, hooking his leg around the space beyond. His kick caught another at head height, crushing it into the wall he still could not see, the shudder from the blow knocking a framed picture from its hanging place.
Kirei stepped around and spotted the source of the other set of footsteps. With greater intelligence than any of the others had demonstrated so far, this one waited with profile turned, eyeing Kirei’s hands as he came into view, searching for the sacraments that could be thrown.
The ground shuddered. Kirei struck the floor with his leading foot hard enough to rend the wooden floor to pieces and stumble the Living Dead before him, while at the same time propelling himself forward. Despite the undead’s focus on his hands, the Executor’s fist caught the creature right at the sternum before it could react, rending it apart from within, nearly liquefying the Dead’s internal organs.
Despite being clear of any ability to hear the chanting outside, Kirei still finished the prayer as he stepped over the last enemy he could detect between himself and his destination.
“Kyrie, Eleison.”
His destination, a floor where bodies had once been arrayed like a bloody human Stonehenge.
The main hall would have been an open, expansive place if it were not for the bodies one would trip over every few feet. The pattern was recognizable to Kirei as a magic circle, blood and bodies spelling out the signs and sigils for a large-scale incantation. One space, however, marred the geometric perfection—a pile of bodies like a pox on an otherwise clear face. Those bodies were not in the same almost-peaceful form that the bodies arrayed in the spell pattern had, so Kirei assumed they were placed there by the True Ancestor. He did not know if it was that alone that disrupted the circle’s properties, but even one who did not know complex magic spells such as himself could tell that the intended purpose of the circle was not engaged at the moment.
“PRINCESS!” a voice roared from above, as if the word were a curse that could kill.
Within the paradigm Kirei had for comparison, the fight was like a battle between angels. The Ancestor with golden hair like a halo waving about her head, the heretical demon with dark hair setting a stark contrast to her pale skin.
Flashes of light crossed the expanse between the two as they leapt about the metal girders above, dancing through the heavens like artwork might depict. The dark-haired demoness sent wave after wave of pale light at the angelic woman, though each bolt seemed to fork right around the blonde as if unwilling to touch her.
Storm bolts unwilling to harm a heiress of nature, however, did not account for the entirety of her surroundings. With an expression like a fanged animal, the Serpent of Akasha sent her converging shots of energy ricocheting off one wall and back down toward the floor. Kirei halfway covered his eyes as the light flashed closer to him, striking the pile of corpses skewing the magic circle. The thunderclap that accompanied the strike was enough to make all sound entirely mute to Kirei’s ears.
“Set upon the heavens, snap the earth asunder, and square thy power, Overload!”
A boundary field activated and the red light in the sky dimmed. Kirei thought that the magic circle was merely something used to gather large amounts of mana to employ this—
But the True Ancestor ignored all other concerns. Despite the darkness that swirled around them and the sudden rise in temperature as electricity filled the air, the vampire princess crossed the distance in a heartbeat and viciously rammed both of her arms into the chest of the dark woman. The blow carried them both back to the ground, slamming into the center of the magic circle, sending tile and dust into the air.
Even as the ground rumbled and the crash of debris sounded around the room, the sound of flesh and organs being ripped apart was clear as the morning bell within an empty monastery.
Kirei approached the cratered floor carefully, though his instincts told him the battle was over. He waved his arms to try and clear the dust and dirt in the air—but all of that cleared in an instant the moment the True Ancestor had apparently finished her work. A gust of wind carried the smoke up and away as Arcueid Brunestud stepped up and away from the corpse she had just created.
“Tsh, all that mana must’ve helped,” the fair-haired creature said, scowling over her shoulder. She did not seem to acknowledge Kirei’s presence and could have just been speaking aloud. “Guess it makes it easier to slither away, too.”
The young Executor scowled as well when he peered past the True Ancestor and saw the most unnerving thing his short life had yet witnessed: the body of the defeated with one arm raised, as if she could claw life out of the air. It resembled an insect that was fumigated to death, limbs twitching in the throes of death. “She is not dead?” Kirei asked.
“Eh.” Arcueid glanced once back to her handiwork, then finally turned her gaze to the young man. “I killed her enough, I guess. This one is nothing now,” the vampire princess said, shrugging as if asked the most mundane of questions. “To your kind, she still lives, I guess you would say. Roa has fled; that’s all I care about. His stench is gone from this one.”
Kirei stared at the body, a second hand weakly joining the first at reaching upwards. He thought the girl would be attempting breath if her lungs were not so clearly collapsed between ribs pulled out grotesquely from a red-stained torso. “You would turn your back on one that could be saved or put out of their misery? Do you not pity her pain and torment?”
Arcueid regarded the young priest with an even stare that somehow clawed its way right past his body and deep into everything he hid within. “Why? Do you?”
The simplicity of her reply startled Kirei. His mouth worked to find an answer, but no sound issued forth.
“You can tell all your others that their feared Serpent is gone. What you do with this one, well, I don’t expect I’d understand anything you might choose to do.”
Footsteps from behind caught Kirei’s attention. The Executor glanced back to find Eiri Fumizuka following in his wake, surveying the scene before them. When his gaze returned to the True Ancestor, he found the vampire princess already at the front door, strolling past the death about the floor like it was nothing more than inconvenient decoration.
“Kirei?” Eiri asked, finally eyeing the bloody mess within the crater.
“Kyrie, Eleison,” Kirei muttered as he made to climb down the destroyed floor.
The dichotomy did nothing to set Kirei’s feelings at ease. The place they had brought the girl was a beautiful example of a church, it’s structure hundreds of years old, stained glass and stonework catching the light in aesthetically pleasing ways. Yet that light only served to illuminate the interior, converted as a workspace, where the members of the 8th Sacrament repeatedly killed the paradox that Kirei had sought to save.
“It was exemplary work, Kirei,” the eldest said, as if the pained cries of a teenage girl so close by were nothing to be concerned by. “It is truly a calling for you, son of Risei. To not only be so efficient at destroying His enemies, but to bring us this one as well.”
Kirei’s tone was quiet, almost a whisper. “No.” The team addressed him properly, almost a tribunal in their stances, yet the young man never once met their eyes. He stared off to one side, gaze fixed on the ancient stonework that made up the foundations of the church. He could not look past the men, either, as the bier where they repeatedly killed the immortal girl was set up where a minister would sermonize. “It is not.”
The three looked to one another, then back to the younger Kotomine. “I beg your pardon?” the eldest once more spoke.
“It is no calling for me,” Kirei said. His cheek twitched, pulling at his lips until he had a near-snarl upon his face. “It was nothing more than a slaughter. And this,” he motioned to the crucified figure behind them, the girl once more reviving with pained breath, “this is nothing but torture.”
Confusion swept across all three of the men’s faces. They once more exchanged glances, silently conferring in the way only those with a long history together could. “You are correct to call it so,” the one on the left said, “yet it is still God’s work. This one will either be eliminated for good or will be utilized as one of His weapons. Many lives were saved in the process, and many more shall yet be. Meanwhile, His enemies have been eliminated. You have done as He has commanded.”
“If it burdens you so,” the eldest said, “then that is an understandable perception. The sins of the world are not easy to look upon. Let it not trouble you so, young man.”
“No.” They did not understand. Could not understand. No platitudes would solve this feeling within him, no matter how faithful or heartfelt they were. “Accept now my release from this service.”
“I would pray you reconsider,” a female voice from the church’s entryway broke through.
Kirei’s eyes narrowed, though he once more did not turn to address those that spoke. He had a feeling it was to come to this, and he did not wish involvement anymore than was already spoken for.
The elders did not take notice, as their own voices lightened from the appearance of the newcomers. “Narbareck, Merem,” the eldest acknowledged, “thank you for coming. We have much to discuss.”
“Indeed,” the female said.
Gazing one last time upon the dull-eyed girl as she was once more gouged through, Kirei then turned on his heel and made for the door. His exit went unnoticed by the 8th Sacrament elders, their attention now entirely on the slight girl named Narbareck and the elderly priest named Merem. The Burial Agency members, however, had eyes for Kirei as he strode past.
“Thank you for this gift you have bequeathed upon us,” the old man said, his tone careful, reverent.
“Greetings and blessings, Kirei Kotomine,” the small girl said, a smile gracing her lips. “We shall take care of this one. Rest easy.”
Kirei’s scowl only deepened as he exited the room, the suffering from one girl’s face and the smile of another girl’s face twisting through his mind like dueling serpents.
End
I’m aware the dates don’t exactly line up here, although who knows what’ll be said once the Tsuki remake is out. So there.
Man, I’ve never quite understood how people can exactly write two mortal enemies battling each other to sound almost sexual in nature until writing this. Probably helps to imagine that Ciel is already mostly naked and Arc might be suffering clothing damage.Meanwhile Kirei the priest is handling little boys.
Yes, the named Executor is referencing Mahoyo and one of the unnamed ones is a shout out to Prototype.
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Originally Posted by Arashi_Leonhart
