Hetalia One-Shots

DenNor : Berserker

  Black smoke rose into the sky. Orange light illuminated the village from the night's darkness. Screams echoed through the households engulfed by burning light. People ran everywhere trying to escape the horror. Lukas, however, stayed frozen despite the flaming heat dancing around him. The blond watched the world spin around him as he remained still.

  Wood gnawed on by the growing fire started falling from their places, crushing villagers in their escape. Children wailed searching for their parents, fire cackling around the inhabitants. Lukas was devastated but showed no emotion. He simply clenched his fists and watched his beloved home die and slowly become one with the earth. His insides churned as everything he had known was being taken away from him. He had spent all twenty-six years of his life in this village, and now it was fading away, blown away by the wind.

  A fierce growl rose in the air, ripping through the sky. Lukas knew exactly where it was coming from. He gripped his sword tightly and grabbed an abandoned axe, latching it on his back. He jogged to the center of the town avoiding all rushing citizens. He arrived between houses and searched the small square. Lukas then saw him, savagely fighting a villager. The man fought the berserker but received a powerful blow propelling him backwards and rolled lifeless on the ground.

  Lukas swallowed with difficulty but spoke loudly and sternly. "Matthias."

The man turned around, eyes covered with a crazed glow, pupils completely dilated. His face was dirtied with ash and blood, his blond hair messed up and filthy. He didn't seem to fully recognize Lukas. With no warning, Matthias charged raising his sword above his head. Lukas' eyes widened and he barely had the time to turn to the side as the blade sliced the air beside him. He brandished his sword towards the man's tall figure. Matthias moved away and pushed Lukas to the floor as he was in full dive.

  The short-haired blond rolled and swiftly rose to his feet, sword in front of him. His violet irises glowed with a determined spark. Matthias sprung forward and Lukas countered him. He grunted in effort as they stared in each other's eyes.

"Matthias," whispered Lukas, sweat beading on his forehead, the heat of the flames and combat rising. "You don't have to do this. You can fight it, I know you can. You're not like them." Their blades shattered against each other and glided to the side.

  The young Viking swung his axe at his opponent who caught it mid-air from the wooden handle. He crushed the haft simply by closing his hand in on it. Matthias let the broken weapon fall to the ground as he took a step closer to Lukas. He pounced on the taller man but his sword was propelled out of his hand as Matthias hit it away. The berserker threw his fist in Lukas' face pushing him to the dirt. This time Lukas propped himself on his elbows with pain. He spit out blood as his inner cheek was cut open. The lavender-eyed man watched as Matthias slowly closed the distance between them. He rapidly looked around then held out one hand to the tall man as the other was pressed on his template.

  Two meters in front of Lukas, Matthias froze. He pushed forward trying to break free from the spell. He hollered in anger straining himself more. Lukas watched in pain and sorry. He kept his hand out, keeping the invisible armor around Matthias. He spoke carefully, searching for that warm blue he once knew in the eyes of the man. "Matthias, please, listen to me."

  The berserker roared and tried to push forward. Lukas flinched as the effort for the spell was becoming more and more overtaxing.

"I know you're in there. Don't let it take over you," pursued the young sorcerer. "All those years, all those years I spent hiding you, caring for you, believing in you...were they all for nothing? Was I wrong to think you weren't like the others? I risked everything for yo-"