[XKjalX]

The angel.

Inside the inn, on the wall, was an angel. A male.

...

"What are you looking at?"

And apparently, demons had played dart with it. It had a black sword sticking through his heart, a deformed and jagged hachet through it's thigh, and a dagger in his right palm. But no other weapons were on the wall. Normal demons couldn't be that clever. Only Hellspawns and above are.

Chances are, it was only one player.

He was limp, hanging on the wall, tied up at the hands and feet by blackened chains and shackles, that were serrated and sharp. Very sharp, and quite long, bending into what would've been the angel's wrists and ankles. Probably in his death, he leaned forward, and the spikes did what they had to do.

Strangely enough, there were no demonic bodies, or human, but only a lot blood. There were no mounds of dead corpses, no heads on pikes, no sign of any huge massacre, except the blood, in the small village. Kjal stepped into the silent inn, the maniacal machine he'd known as Epsilon ignored.

In his mind, he had laid down the label below the picture as "Sad way to die as an Angel". Being killed in battle was, of course, one thing. Being a dartboard however, wasn't. On the angel's face was dried tears. Apparent by the look on his face, they were tears of sadness, not tears of pain.

Kjal walked through a clear path and first held the sword and the hatchet. They were buried deep, through the body and stuck on the wall. Kjal pulled, and as soon they were free, he released, the sword and hatchet shuddering, stuck on the inn's wooden doorway. As for the dagger, he pulled it out in one swift movement, and stabbed it into the wall again, near the angel's face.

He pulled out his silver kodachis and in only a swing, the shackles on the angel's wrist and ankles seemed to crumble, without cutting the angel. Sheathing in a simple, quick way, he managed to quickly grab the angel before he fell onto the ground. Though there were some protests of shouting in his head, but he ignored...

The touch itself stung, but only in the mind. If a demon were to actually carry an angel, it wouldn't sting, but for Kjal, it would. Kjal walked out of the doorway, passed Epsilon and into a part of the woods. As Kjal expected, the Lessnior's grave was empty.

The dug-up earth was in a mound beside it, and the earth was a soft bed. Laying the angel down on the earth, he looked at the gravestone:


A Soul-Hunter of the Iron-Sides,
A companion,
A friend,
Beloved Brother,

LESSNIOR BOUDOIN
AKA K'DRAKKS



Obviously, it wasn't his brother, but if one were to pay close attention, it could've. The angel's face was almost exactly like Kjal's, and had brown hair. Only he had two eyes and no scar down his right eye, along with no earring on the right ear.

...But it had one scar running from the ear to the chin, and deep rinkles was on his face, with two earings on his left ear, above the earlobe and was stacked.

Kjal stood up, leaving the angel as it is, and walked back to Epsilon, and stood at a distance. Finally, after a long silence, Kjal spoke, with something in his throat. He put his hands in his pockets, and his eyes on Epsilon. In a loud whisper-like quality, he said:

"Nothing. I was looking at nothing."

But 22 years ago, he would've been looking at family...if his memory served right.