Blood trickled between his fingers, as he held his hand to his face, crying out in agony. The scythe had cut across his face, before he had even had the chance to try and dodge or block it. Not that either of those tactics would have been very effective- but in his moment of pain, he was not willing to blame himself.
Rer Sansk. A lowly merchant, who's income depended on the cheap fruits he sold at his stall, but not at a cheap price of course. He was not particularly handsome, particularly intelligent, or particularly anything. He was just a commoner, not quite living the life of a peasant, but also not far from it. And now he found himself fighting for his life. Pathetically.
The petite woman across from him stood elegantly, wearing black trousers, a black shirt and a blood red cloak, with a silver clasp. She held the scythe with both hands, the weapon being almost as big as she was. With her crimson hair, ghostly pale skin, startling blue eyes and her fear mongering weapon, she looked almost like a god of death- beautiful but terrible, and radiating power.
"Are you an angel?" Rer asked, his dry voice shaking. He stared at her, pulling the steel sword from the sheath on his side. She laughed, the sound like bells. "No, Rer Sansk. I am no angel. Not anymore."
"Then what are you?" He shouted, his voice rife with desperation. He blinked, and before he knew it, she had cut him across the arm, despite being as far away as she was. Yet here she now stood, beside him as he kneeled, crying and swearing as he clutched his bleeding arm.
"Are you scared?" She asked, gently. "Are you scared of what lies for you beyond? Is this why you fight?"
"I do not know what you mean! Please, leave me alone! Let me live!"
The woman sighed, and stepped back, gesturing behind her. "You are already dead."
Rer looked up, his eyes widening. It couldn't be possible, but there was the proof. Lying in a crumpled heap, not far from the woman, was a body, with a short Dihkheri blade sticking out from the neck. His body.
How could it be?
"I do not understand! What is happening?"
"It is very simple, Rer Sansk. You are dead, and it is my duty to deliver your soul to its... next destination, be it the Land of the Gods, or Abyssuss. But you get the choice to fight. If you win, I return you to you're body, all fatalities healed, and if you lose, I take you whether you like it or not."
"B-but you did not ask me? What if I had not wanted to fight?"
She laughed again, that sweet sound, it made him feel sick. "I did not have to. I saw your hearts desire in your mind. I would not try to get up again. Just give up- it will be less painful for you."
Rer stood, still clutching the sword in his left hand. The right had now gone unpleasantly numb.
With an almost laughable roar, he ran forward, trying to impale her. In one swift motion, she had disarmed him and now had the tip of the scythe pressing into but not piercing his neck.
"What would have happened if I had not tried to fight?" He asked, dryly.
"You would have had the choice to pass on, or linger here as a spirit."
"I think I would have preferred being a spirit.'
"Yes, where you are going," she said, pushing the scythe into his throat, "you would have."
From where the scythe cut the neck, a bright, glowing red substance that seemed like both light and liquid leaked out, engulfing his entire body. It began to bubble and churn, before then exploding in a bright flash of red light, leaving none of Rer Sansk behind.
