The rhythmic sway of a sword resounded through the cool air. A small child could be seen in the courtyard, swinging a sword far beyond his need through the morning air. He had been there for hours.

'Fwoush' And silence.

'Fwoush' And silence.

Once again 'Fwoush' and silence again.

The steamy sweat that rose from his body was convening at a pool beneath the boys feet.

The boy wore no clothes. His blond hair dark with grime, eyes focused with precision gleaming from a depth of know how far from suiting his age.

He swung the sword.

'Fwoush' and silence.

No one else was present. If they had been, they would have come to the conclusion that he was without fault. Peerless physic that would eventually turn his body into sculpture beyond the realm of men as he grew older.

For the past two years this boy had done this routine. He was now approximately seven years of age. After having displayed a cold blood thirst in front of the eyes of his fellow students and teachers. He graduated from the cruel group study to the lonely study of silent play. Which suited his specific personality perfectly. He did not have to endure cruel methods to motivate his desire to change. His desire was innate. Beyond the memories of his last life, perhaps stretching from feelings of lives long gone. It made him seem cold to all others but it fit the name accustomed to him.

"Death" they had called him.

Whenever whispers of the past came to service, he would generally ignore. Still when they reach a point of sneers and challenges , even he would become angry.

It had began when the friar of the tower explained the situation did Death actually feel on the right path.

**************

The friar sat me down on a bed in a small vacant room with the only other furnishings being a a wooden desk and a matching chair. A single window looked out upon the city below. Nothing much had changed in the few years that had passed a marketplace and slums were visible, you could even hear the buzz line of voices below if you listened closely.

The friar pulled up the chair next to bed and sat down.

He eyed me closely. Watching me watch him.

" My name is Francis. I am the Esteemed Celebrater of this academy. I first met you a few years ago." He said slowly.

The slits of his dark eyes looking for the hint of recognication upon my face.

"The man you just killed was Jon 'Silverhand' Nadere. 8 years ago he failed himself and the women he loved when battling beasts. Losing her forever and thus leaving him the state you found him in today. He was known for his agility aptly giving him the name 'The Silverhand'.

The mans voice had been empty void of any emotions. Rather they been so numb that if any emotions that did come out from it seemed empty and hollow thus rendering them meaningless even if he tried to sound lively.

Indeed had he not been drunk I would not have lived to tell the tale.

A queer smile appeared on my face. Killing the man had been the first bit of fun I had in a long while. My fear of death had been numbed after reincarnation. The whole sense of it no longer a mystery at least in my eyes.

This jon fellow was better off dead anyway.

After all I can respect an enemy only after he is dead never before. It led to far to many supposed friends kicking the bucket in the last life.

Francis watched me his trying discern my thoughts.

"His family name 'Nadere' is a part of an esteemed group of nobles that are only a few tiers below that women who brought you to me. Today you have made more than just a few enemies." He smile slowly came across his face. “As well as friends."

I could only asume by the way he had said that woman. He had meant Angline.

I had come to find out she a was very important person. To the extent of earning the title 'Valkyrie'. She was existence nigh considered indispensable to the country. I had been impressed as well as completely untaken by the news. I would do anything to repay her kindness. She was an existence that gave me an opportunity to survive after all.

" What do you mean by friends?' I asked my face showing a small hint of interest.

" As I mentioned before that I am an esteemed celebrator. One of eight that at are alive. I have friends in high place and..." He stopped " low places."

" How would your friends already know about this incident?" I said.

" Let's just say a better kind of incident had been planned and you slightly derailed that plan." He answered.

The pieces of the puzzle started to come together within my head. This man didn't have the smell of death on him for no reason. It's saturated his existence because it made him feel alive. Jon's death had been already orchestrated before today. Was the alcohol tampered with?

"I am only a mere child. I can do nothing with what you are telling me. If anything isn’t my knowing just an extra risk?"

There was something in the way he was speaking to me. In the way he looked me over. It wouldn’t have been obvious to another but to my trained eyes I could tell he knew something about me that no one else did.

"You are not an ordinary child." He said." Your actions are characteristics of a someone who has lived for a great number of years, following my profession."

This conversation was leaving the realm of child to adult talk and extended to that of evil instance. But evil is only defined by those who are not in control of their own fate. For me I always thought of my actions as discreet justice.

" What gave me away?" I asked.

The man named Francis pushed his chair from under his feet and bowed his head to the floor. I was stunned.

"Your Mark, my Lord" he said.

"Lord!!??" I shouted.

The celebrator looked me in the eyes suddenly. Questions floating on the surface.

There was a silence.

"Sit back down and explain." I said lowly. My child voice cracking.

The man did so.

"When I was perhaps your age, I had a dream of the future and my place within it. It was not the place you see around you today. In that life, I had chosen to be an apostle of powerful deity reaching the same position as today. But war broke out. The same people who had claimed peace now sought destruction. With the sky's black with the power of magi. Crops stopped growing, the Sun no longer shown, and the moon was dyed red. My god, whom, I sought help from refused saying this war not his to fight not his to control or interfere with." He stopped gasping for breath. "He killed me in spite. When I begged the other gods to do help."

Then he looked at me and began to cry. A man whom gave off the presence as much as him crying was unsightly but I allowed his story was not finished.

"But then I met you, my Lord. You appeared before me sitting on a throne of skulls and ashes. I ,who knew not your name begged for mercy."

The man had finished crying and was now entirely monotone. No hint of past emotion or feeling even touching his visage.

"What did I say?" My curiosity was peaked I asked quickly.

"My name is Death. I am the fallen and the risen. The lost and the found. My carnation is approaching. Will you rid yourself of the past and begin anew on my word?"

Those words made my heart shudder. They words familiar but clouded. As if the words my own but at the same not my own.

"Your likeness showed me the mark. That you bare now." He said his voice low.

I took a moment to think clearly.

Upon my death, I could remember nothing. No bright lights. No man that looked like myself. No mystical voice. It was all missing from my memory but this man had cried tears of joy upon realizing I was who he was meant to guide. I could not deny his words, this man was speaking the truth.

"I need to rest. Come back tomorrow at first light." I assumed he would listen to my every word whether I'm a child or not.

"As you wish, we have much to talk about my lord." The celebrater said.

Before he closed the door. He spoke one last time.

" There are seven original esteemed celebrators. My last was life. And it rejected me. You gave me Death."

Francis smiled a sincere smile. One that could be considered only haunting upon his face.

"A Celebratory of Death"

I smirked this was going to be fun. I knew deep down if I was death as he said I was. It would be my pleasure.

***************

Memories such as these floated through my mind occasionally. The pieces of the puzzle so far from being complete that the whole matter seemed futile.

Pain shot through the tendons of my left hand. It hurt enough to slow my movement but not enough to stop them. Pain was a way understand you were alive. It was growth incarnate. Pain was a blessing.

So I powered through. In the last life I had never practiced sword fighting. I didn't have the strength nor training to fight up front to the common swordsman. I therefore practiced with bows and knives, and deadly poisons.

Academy life forced the students to duel one another on a monthly basis. I had yet to lose. It would not have fit my name otherwise.

As I swung the 10,000 time. I let the sword finally fall to my side. I did this daily for two years I could do more but it would cut down the time for the rest of my training.

I walked over to a multiple wooden boards with a varying bulls-eyes on them some almost invisible to the eye from up close much less 10 meters away. Beneath one a large quiver of arrows and a large bow. It was a little large for my body but I had trained hard to be able to use it. I shouldered the quiver hung the bow around my neck and held the base in my left hand.

Walking back across the courtyard I didn't think much of myself. I was doing everyday training of my own course I did this everyday. Sometimes the teachers would be teaching the other students the way the world worked by breaking their spirit. And other days I would be forced to teach the children how to aim and fire the bow.

I didn't mind as long as I was allowed to practice.

Finally, I had reached the other end of the courtyard. Honestly it was to short of a distance. But precision was more important than distance in any case.

I pulled tightly on the bow imagining as I always had taking aim first with my mind and second with my sight. You must believe you can before you ever can do anything. Shooting a bow was just one example.

As I let the first arrow zip through the air. I shot off a second and then a third. They hit all at the same time. Not too difficult if you practiced well enough but it was indeed miraculous looking from the outside. Many master archer couldn't achieve such. Did I mention they all hit their mark.

Bulls-eye.

" How did you do that?" A voice called out from him behind.

Death turned to see a small girl around or a little above his age walk up to him. She was wearing clothing of a Lilly based flower dress and small black glistening shoes that almost looked like they should come from outside of her era.

On her head sat a small tiara, positioned perfectly between the honey colored hair that came just below her shoulders.

"Who are you?" I asked the fiery eyed little girl.

She looked me up and down and slightly blushed at the sight of my exposed body, slightly less than even some of the female teachers. I was quite large.

" Did no one ever teach you manners?" The girl began. "It is impolite to answer one question with another question."

The way the girl said this irritated me to no end. Her elegance was too far reaching. I had a desire to best her intellectually. I would lose on this battlefield often. I would soon come to learn.

" My apologies, my lady." I bowed. "That was rude of me."

She looked at me directly in the eyes now. It felt as if she were staring at my soul. Since it had been so long since someone had the nerve to actually look at me, or even talk to me. She unnerved me but I would not give up. I returned her stare.

" I was luckily blessed by an unknown god when I was a child and it is for that reason that I can do this." I repeated the display now with 6 arrows instead of 3. Turning around even before the the arrows hit their Mark.

She looked stunned but I could tell she was trying to suppress the look.

This is the same look that all the teachers and students tend to give when I explain over and over again the 'true' reason I could achieve this 'miracle'.

When honestly any could do the same if they had years of practice like myself and the will.

I smiled inwardly.

"Now, my lady." I focused on her eyes trying to invoke the same feelings she did to me.

" Who the FUCK are you?" I asked again.

I could tell she felt something but her red eyes concealed it all. I was thoroughly the losing party now. If not now...

" My name Regine Darlone Brellend." She smiled the way of a conniving witch.

Something told me to fear her next words. But my damn ego forced me to laugh.

" So?" I said mockingly." I know of..." She broke me off.

" My mothers name is Angeline Antoinette Brellend." Her smile widened.

A rock was forming in the pit of my stomach. It was dragging low as if I could feel a snake ready to bite off my glorious member.

"I am your sister as well..." She couldn't say it. There was no way she would say it. Right? This world is based on logic right?

" Your fiance!" She perked up at the words as if her trap had been set and sprung catching me like a mouse.

On that day, Regine, had her first victory over Death. Signalling many many more to come in the future.

"Why Me?" I thought. Sighing. She laughed.

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