Hellbound || Fᴜʟʟᴍᴇᴛᴀʟ Aʟᴄʜᴇᴍɪsᴛ Bʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀʜᴏᴏᴅ

Prologue : New Beginnings

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Please be advised, as this is a work of fiction about Fullmetal Alchemist, there will be graphic language, violence and darker themes.

Read with caution, and take responsibility if you choose to read this out of your own wishes.

Fullmetal Alchemist does not belong to me, all credits go to the incredible Hiromu Arakawa.

This plot come from my own mind, and the aus used were inspired by fan art and writing prompts, which made me want to write my own.

I use the Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood version for my work of fiction, not 03, just to keep in mind!

Enjoy reading!

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"There are two kinds of guilt. The kind that's a burden and the kind that gives you purpose."

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

The surrounding greenery and morning mist reassured the figure standing alone on the lower dip of the hill that there would be no witnesses for his next actions.

No one would get caught up in something they would not understand.

Edward's eyes flickered to the circle he'd carved with a trowel, tossed to the side with little care, and for a second glanced over the rolling hills with old, aged eyes, memorising the sight of the south of England, imprinting the image of this quiet wilderness in his memory.

After all, he'd likely never see it again. That was the plan at least.

"One last attempt, one last try at the impossible." He said, voice raspy from disuse.

He paused, mulling over the memory of an old friend with canine teeth, a smug as shit grin and a cocky attitude to match his avaricious persona.

' Nothing's impossible . ' The homunculus would have said with a lazy grin, holding his hand up for display, ouroboros tattoo stitched into the skin in the same place the Colonel stitched his array into his gloves.

"No other options– right?" He said, directing his question to the air.

The male cocked his head, the bangs that framed his face falling at the movement, as if listening to something.

The answer came from one of the souls in his head — or within his being, which was more accurate.

Edward Elric hadn't been 'just human' for a very long time.

In short, the Promised Day had gone to shit,
and Edward had became a living philosopher's stone.

He didn't like to think of the details of that day. It made his head hurt and eyes burn with unshed tears. Blind panic would gather in his chest, and despite having lived for so long, he still refused to recall the memories.

It was too much.

He'd rather just move on.

Move forward. He had two legs didn't he?

He had no excuse to fall behind, when so much was required from him. When the burden of home rested on his shoulders. When he was needed for their future.

(And to pause and reflect, it just hindered him. Made him uneasy and snappish. Better for everyone that the subject was just dropped.)

On that fateful day, however, the alchemical rebound had torn him from his home, through the Gate without even a glimpse of Truth, and dumped him in some shitty other world that labelled him a devil, witch, and so on, for his abilities, namely, alchemy.