Necessary Villain

1 - The Revenant

"L... Lucas... Why does it have to be this way?" I whisper.

With not enough vigor remaining to hold my head up, my gaze descends upon the merciless sword embedded in my chest, a cruel reminder of the betrayal that has brought me to this bleak moment. Crimson blood flows from the wound, cascading down my body, forming a macabre pool upon the cold, unforgiving ground below me.

Lucas with his hand tilts my head up, meeting my eyes with an impassive expression. But, his stoic countenance reveals itself as a facade as he lets a solitary tear form and trail down his cheek, betraying the uncaring look of his eyes.

"I apologize, Axel," he murmurs, his voice bereft of its usual playfulness. "We were left with no other option... If... if only those fiends hadn't planted that damned demonic seed in your soul, all of this could have been avoided."

As my strength ebbs away, I become a mere marionette, being only kept standing due to Lucas's sword logged in my chest. I want to reply, but it would cost me the rest of my mana and rip away any chance I have of surviving.

In one fluid motion, Lucas withdraws the sword, catches my falling form in his arms, and gently lowers me onto the dirt, still moist from the immense rain that had fallen hours prior. A chill wind blows over me as if nature itself is mourning my doomed fate. A fate I've done nothing to deserve.

On the outside, I don't even have the strength to change my facial expression, but on the inside, I rage.

Why did those two do it?! Why did they have to do this to me?! If you know you screwed up, then screw up alone! Why drag me down with you?! Was there really no turning back?! Why couldn't you two monsters just die once you knew you messed up?!

From the corner of my failing vision, I notice the presence of a man, a one-armed man I know very well. The wickedness he exudes is palpable, the twisted sickle he holds reflecting his twisted nature. A dark miasma radiates from every pore of his body; A dark, disgusting purple that fits him all too well.

Bastard.

"To witness the hero of humanity condemned as a monster... all because of my mistake..." The third man's voice fills the air, each syllable he speaks resonating with the weight of his malevolence. The man who just had to take me down with him. "...It's truly interesting." He begins to laugh while staring straight down at the ground.

BASTARD.

Inside, I have an unquenchable desire to kill him, to unleash upon him the condemnation he so rightly deserves. Yet, my vocal cords betray me, refusing to yield even a single sound. My lungs have collapsed, my breath fading. The only thing keeping me alive is the minuscule amount of mana I force to pump my blood, allowing me to desperately cling to life.

I want to, I need to scream at him, to tell him how much he deserves to die. If I were granted the power, I would tear his throat out, murder him ruthlessly...

Screw it.

"I... will... kill you," I mutter weakly, using the remnants of my waning mana to help project my voice. I succumb to my hatred and throw my chance at life away just to curse at this wretched man one last time. A curse that is as weightless as air. A curse which has no hope of ever coming to fruition, a promise of something impossible... yet, it's a curse I throw at him at the cost of my life nonetheless.

The bastard's laughter abruptly ceases, giving way to an eerie silence. He lifts his gaze, locking eyes with me and showing me a tear-streaked face. Tears that make no sense. Tears that should be reserved for the tormented, not the tormentor. Yet, they adorn his face, the man whose refusal to accept reality and desperate clinging onto a meaningless vow has tormented the entirety of humanity.