Hellsing

+OLD WORLD+

***

-Dad, what sword is this?

-The best I've ever made

. -How is it better than the previous ones, Dad?

-A good sword can help an amateur and make an expert very powerful...

HELLSING

***

For some time now, I've been observing the clouds hanging motionless overhead. Dark gray monsters, hiding the sun under their wings, watch as the planet, deprived of its warmth, dies. They've been there for as long as I can remember. As a child, I feared them, watching them slowly slaughter the green hills where I loved to play. Now they're no longer so terrifying; I know they can't harm us anymore. The years of slaughter have ended, leaving behind cracked earth and empty graves of trees.

What the clouds didn't destroy, the lords of this land—the demons—destroyed. Warring clans, hungry for new lands, slowly killed the object of their dispute. In the heat of battle, they stopped seeing the futility of their actions until it was too late for any rescue. The war that had lasted for generations had ceased to make sense and was drawing to a close. The planet was dead; nothing could be done.

I am Erhyk von Devcry of the Farai clan. For years, I and my family have served the Grimsing clan, the third largest—the great loser of this war. After the cessation of hostilities, the clans united, concentrating power in the hands of three powers. Faced with the curse we had brought upon ourselves, we fought a final battle for survival on the Planet. Disease and famine wreaked havoc. The planet retaliated, leaving us no chance to defend ourselves. Soon we would share its fate, but salvation appeared. The Mist approaching from the east was to save us...

With each passing day, it drew closer. It resembled a giant tarantula searching for food in a desolate landscape. Its long, black legs reached far ahead, dragging its massive body forward. Three days ago, she was a barely visible speck on the horizon; now she had become a terrifying creature that, if it wanted, could devour us all with one of its tentacles. It could, yet for some time now, it had been standing still, waiting for our move. The black fog, like an invincible army of shadows that had stopped to rest after an exhausting march, stretched on endlessly. No one knew what it held, what it was, or where it had come from. Until He appeared... "Who is He?" I asked, more to myself than to him. " They say He

came with the fog

." Deryk's face was tense. Deryk was the youngest son of the leader of the Grimsing clan and my best friend. "Father says He's a God who came to save us. " "What do you think?" A sadness was evident in his eyes, spreading over his face with each passing second. The flickering flames of the fire only accentuated this feeling. "I think He came to destroy us."

I'd heard that the figure from the mist was a powerful being from another world, meant to guide us to his dimension. I'd been told various stories. Apparently, his world is inhabited by many races who, like us in the past, are constantly at war with each other. It's said he came to ask for our help in resolving a dispute in exchange for vast territories in the new world. I wasn't surprised that the Council finally agreed to his proposal. Our land was dead, and life on it was doomed from the start, so the newcomer's words quickly found an answer. The time of blood and cold steel was approaching.

More demonic hosts vanished into the jaws of the enormous beast, only to be reborn in the new world after being digested. The newcomer had departed some time ago with his first and most powerful army, wreaking havoc among the enemy's ranks. However, not everyone wanted to cross over to the other side and fight again. Those who remained behind, after the war, joined the victorious army. They didn't know it wouldn't be theirs...

Finally, it was my turn. Time for me to face the fog, which in its darkness could extinguish many a star. Together with thousands like me, we waited, asking ourselves millions of questions, finding no answers. I would never see my homeland again, perhaps never see my family again. The only thing that connected me to them now was the sword my father had given me just before setting out. A long blade forged from a single piece of steel, complete with hilt, simple in design and slightly curved, it looked harmless at first. It possessed only a single cutting edge, sharp enough to cut a ray of light, sending darkness down upon the enemy. It lacked a guard that could save life, for what was life to a soul that craved only death? Without a doubt, it was the most magnificent sword I had ever seen...

+NIGHTMARE+

***

-Derhyk?

-What?

"I'm afraid..."

***

I am darkness, the fog surrounds me, becoming my second skin, I am fog. Walking alone, I feel the cold wind hitting my face like millions of tiny needles. I feel as if my eyes are constantly closed, unable to open them for any reason; it's a terrible feeling to see nothing.

Have you ever felt like you have no control over your life? As if your every gesture or word was planned in advance by someone? It's a constant feeling here. I can almost feel the nooses around my wrists, tightened so tightly that I can't move on my own. Even my head is filled with alien thoughts, mercilessly killing the slightest glimmer of free will. Here I am, a slave to my own body and soul, a puppet waiting for its master's command.

Someone pulled a string, opening the curtain of darkness. Where darkness had reigned before, now a small clearing was visible, illuminated by the pale light of the moon. I also noticed several figures lying by the fire. All wrapped tightly in cloaks, they were talking without a sound emerging. I sensed they were already exhausted, yet they fought sleep as if it would bring with it an army of nightmares. They resisted for a long time before the blade of exhaustion pierced them through. The flame was barely smouldering as they fell asleep...

Another figure appeared from nowhere. I had the impression it had been there all along, but only now had it chosen to appear. It was dressed similarly to those lying on the ground, but it seemed much larger than the rest; it was now standing over one of the huddled cloaks. There is nothing more beautiful than the moon reflected in the blade of a sword. As it stood over its victim, it resembled a god hurling thunderbolts at the infidels, angry and merciless. Lightning crackled across the air, silence.

Gray clouds continued to drift across the sky, hiding the sun from me, keeping it all to themselves. They slowly moved above me, watching intently as they did so. I could only imagine their laughter. Nothing had changed; the same barren hills once again welcomed me into their dying bosom. I felt my fingers dig into the dry earth with anger, as if I wanted to strangle the world for having to live in it. Surrounding me on all sides were the remnants of my unit; vanquished by the specter, they wandered the field like damned souls. What had become of us, where had the rest gone? Was this the end of my journey? I searched fruitlessly for a familiar landmark. Looking at the faces of the warriors passing by, I saw only my own reflection, doubt, and resignation. Against the gray backdrop of clouds, I barely glimpsed a black dot approaching. The dark creature landed nearby, followed by others. All decked out in black feathers, they watched us intently, simultaneously making strange sounds from their beaks. This was the first time I'd seen anything like this. But didn't that mean...

This wasn't my home, though it wasn't much different. Even the hill to the left looked like the one from my childhood. Yet there was something unsettling about it. Weakened, I climbed to its top to see something I hadn't expected. Before me stood three wooden poles, each bearing the body of a defeated warrior. Their hands were tied behind their backs with leather straps so tightly that the white bones were almost visible. Their faces still screamed in pain, the terrible groans of a creature impaled, only to die in agony from the hellfire. Three statues illustrating the fate of the losers of this war. Three beings embodying a waking nightmare. Three demons...

"This is the work of those cursed people!" shouted the oldest of us, inciting the rest to fight. "They can't get away with such cruelty; it's time we fulfilled our promise!"

I saw a slow change in the demons' faces. A drop of sadness finally filled the cup of anger. They were ready for revenge.

We headed toward the glow shining from behind the hill to the east, thinking it was a sign from the Gods of Vengeance, pointing us to a place of redemption. Before setting out, I noticed I'd lost my sword. The entire way, I pondered how I could have lost it, the only thing I had left of my family, something more important even than my life. Every attempt to return my thoughts to the events in the fog only brought a piercing pain in the center of my head, as if a memory mill were grinding the grain of memory into meaningless flour. Despite aching muscles, we set a fast pace. Still, we weren't getting any closer to the source of that mysterious light. All the way, I didn't see a single living creature except for black birds flying overhead, so that our approach could be seen from afar. However, when they appeared, I wished we were alone on this dead earth...

+NECTARS OF LIFE+

I feel weak. For some time now, I'd been observing the man's face, calm and lifeless. It was dark, but it lay close enough for me to see it clearly. His empty eyes stared at me stubbornly, as if trying to pour the life fading within him into my body. Pale, soulless, he possessed a certain charm. He was ugly, which attracted rather than offended. Like Bosch's paintings, macabre, yet full of beauty. The scar on his cheek, a memento of a victorious battle, now became jewelry for his dead face. In life, he must have been an ordinary, unremarkable man; only death made him interesting.

I'm tired. My eyes were clearly exhausted from constantly admiring the post-war exhibit. The delicate scent of blood-soaked earth soothed me. I became drowsy. Hundreds of human lives, their memories, worries, joys, dreams—all flowed through me with every breath. I became the king of the defeated. Finally, I managed to close my eyes...

...whatever you do, you cannot cheat fate...

I try to stand up. My body sends millions of impulses to my brain, letting me know how bad things are. I still can't get up. Slowly, I locate the spot where the enemy's sword will reach me. One accidental cut along my back, not life-threatening, but causing a rapid loss of a significant amount of blood. I must have fainted. I didn't feel the cold steel sinking into my flesh, seeking warmth. I don't remember the moment of my fall. I tried in vain to recall the moment of my defeat. The most important moment of my life.

As feeling returned to my body, the pain in my back became increasingly severe. It was as if scalding magma were hiding beneath the clotted blood, struggling to rise to the surface again. I had considerable difficulty getting back on my feet. I struggled to maintain my balance, but fortunately, I found support in the form of a sword still embedded in my body, inflicting eternal suffering.

The landscape was monotonous. Hundreds of dead warriors of many races, each with a different way of dying. Some met a quick death, but many faced a long journey before finding solace. It was difficult to be the only one alive among so many dead. Their bodies, demons, humans, and cyborgs, piled one on top of the other, gazed at the stars, assuming various positions to comfortably admire the final image. There was something magical about them; it seemed that if the sun were placed beneath them, a magnificent stained-glass window would glow, depicting the fates of each of them, united in a single point. Death had become their destiny, fulfilled with each day of their lives.

I saw many dead human faces, but none seemed as beautiful as this one. They were filled with fear, doubt, and pain. Exhausted, I fell, losing sight of them, but they were still there for a long time. A magnificent testament to our achievements, the great demon race.

"Heh," he smiled, "we gave them a real beating." He fell asleep.

A child's voice from my right woke me, the least expected sound under the circumstances. The only thing that came to mind was to cover myself with the muddy cloak of one of the human warriors.

"Marcus, look what I found," another child's voice hit me like a powerful stream of water. I decided to get up to see it for myself. Children of War. I saw five bush-like creatures shuffling through dead bodies in search of hidden treasure. I didn't wait long to be noticed; their focus quickly shifted from the image of defeat to the figure hidden beneath the cloak. After a moment of silence, one of them finally spoke up. I assumed he was the leader of the group

. "If you want, you can come with us..."

It was getting dark when we lit a fire in a small clearing. Only now did I begin to examine the children's faces carefully, carefully hiding my own. Nothing special, really, just scaled-down versions of those lying in the field. They examined their today's catch, then looked at me.

"You're a demon, aren't you?" one of them stated, more of a fact than a question. "One of those brought by the Nameless One, right?" I didn't answer.

The smallest one added some sticks to the fire. I'd always wondered how so much heat could be extracted from cold wood. I pulled down my hood to feel it on my skin, a wonderful feeling, like the touch of a breast against my cheek. It was strange, but even though they knew who I was, I didn't inspire fear in them. Perhaps they had suffered enough in their lives to be afraid now, or maybe it was something else entirely. I don't know...

"Have you ever heard of the Land of Fear?" The smallest one continued, not waiting for an answer. "They say it's inhabited by human nightmares that take on physical form, dubbed demons. The land itself was woven from the threads of human fear to prevent nightmares from wandering between dreams; it was a kind of prison. At first, the nightmares tried to escape their cage, but it was very difficult, because to return to our world, they had to face their own fears." In this way, they were defeated by their own weapons, because as you know, no one willingly walks into a lion's jaws...

"Where did you hear that? It's a children's story," the Redhead sneered at the Littlest One. "Were you trying to scare us or make us laugh?

" "Grandma told me that when I woke up at night," the Littlest One muttered under his breath. "But what if there's something to it?" he hesitated for a moment. "One thought terrifies me...

" "What are nightmares afraid of?" I heard my own voice.

Since that story, I haven't said a word. On the one hand, what he said seemed ridiculous, an old woman's invention to calm a child, but on the other, there was something terrifying about it. I was so intrigued by the Land of Fear that I stopped paying attention to what was happening around me. But when I looked up, I saw something terrifying. I was watching the nightmare from the fog again, the dark glade and the figures lying around the fire, only this time it was real. The flame was barely smoldering as they fell asleep...