Hope For One And None.

Hope for only one.

A broad stature clad in black from head to toe stood in the middle of a battlefield filled with dried up blood, flies, and the frozen faces of screaming soldiers.

The black figure walked over bodies and stepped on crunching bones.

This battle took a lot of lives but not enough to fulfill the figure's long-awaited wish. He needed more, he wanted more.

In the far distance, a boy with dark red hair and shining green eyes appeared. He stole from the dead and stripped them of their valuables.

Money will always win when faced with respecting the dead.

As the boy neared, the figure saw a soul quivering and shaking as the boy continued to strip the dead of their belongings.

It was not a special soul, it was not pure nor sweet, neither did it have any significant value to the figure. The figure stared intently at the boy as if the boy might see him at any given time.

The red-haired boy walked to an elderly dead one kneeled next to the senior and bowed his head. For a while, he kept kneeling with his eyes closed before he carried on to strip the elder of their belongings.

The figure found this shining-eyed child interesting and amusing.

Money will always win when respecting the dead but here -a boy no older than 15- bowed his head low to give respect to the elders, women, young men, and children before stealing all their belongings on their person as if they permitted him to do so.

The boy walked past the black figure and stopped at a corps. The corps was one of the few burned to an unrecognizable piece of lump.

He kneeled just like with the others but instead of silently closing his eyes and sitting there for a while. The boy bawled his eyes out. On the corps, a necklace hung around its neck. The necklace was unharmed and kept tightly wedged in between the corps fingers.

The glossy-eyed boy pried open its fingers and retrieved the necklace opening it on the spot.

The black figure loomed over the shoulders of the boy, in the necklace a photo of a man with red hair and a mercenary built body stood in it with a small satisfied smile, next to the man a kid with a grin that reached both ears balanced on one leg. A family photo.

The black, smokey figure looked at the red-haired boy and saw the boy staring at the picture with longing and tears in his eyes.

"Why did you give me hope? Why did you make me believe? Believe that you were strong enough, great enough? Why did you let me see you in this state?"

The red-haired boy cried a river before he calmed down and just sat there next to the corps.

The soul that quivered and shivered did that no more, instead it gave off a soft glow that intensified the longer the boy sat there.

The glow grew and the figure kept admiring the soul as the time slowly turned old.

"I don't regret hoping. I don't regret believing but I do regret not helping you in your time of need, not being near enough to take the fall you never deserved. I forgive you for leaving earlier than planned but I won't forgive myself."

The figure savored the young child's words not noticing the red-haired child chillingly staring at the dark, smokey figure. The figure felt the cold stare and glanced down at the boy.

The boy glared into a dark hood that seemed like it could devour the world if the darkness became too hungry. With curiosity, the figure tilted his head in question.

The red-haired boy asked with confidence: " Is there anything you can do to wake him up from his internal slumber?"

The figure nodded slowly. The figure knew all too well where this could go but it did not concern him for he wanted ownership of the glowing soul. It could be nice to own something like it the figure thought.

" Switch my soul for his life!"

The figure stared at the young boy. Waving his hand, a scythe with numerous skulls and jagged teeth appeared in it. With one clean sweep the boy, no older than 15, fell to the ground and the lifeless burned corps stood up. Red hair and shining green eyes, the only difference; the age.

The man looked around him at the dried-out battlefield and decaying corpses. He stopped and stared at one specific corpse, the boy.

The man ran to him yelling his name and begging him to wake up, pleading him to wake up but no response.

The man took a short sword with tears in his eyes. "I gave you hope to live on yet you chose what I wanted to keep away from you." The man slit his own throat and died once again.

The figure loomed over the corpses, staring as the blood dripped from the older man's already dried-out body.

Two birds with one stone.