Berserk Fan Fiction ❯ Bye Bye Beheliet ❯ My Beheliet ( Chapter 2 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

A/N: AHAHAHA!! Back, back, back! Dammit…I wanna start the blood…and gooore….I like violence^___^ however I must be patient…HA! Another chapter gone bye without Puck! Whhee! I hate puck….he should die…unfortunately I don't have the power to do that….yet…maybe if I sent much much hate male to a certain manga ka………or not…Also, my bestests of friends and editor did a rough sketch of the boy in this fic. there you are! She's really talented and some time in the near future I'll have it colored! So what'd you all think? Exciting? Did I portray Gutt's right? WOOT! Anyways…you don't have to review really, only if you wanna, but read and enjoy!

~*~BBB2: My Beheleit!~*~

"Puh." The boy spat on the ground and decided not to bother with his unruly man. He felt he was above all this. In his mind, he had nothing to gain by killing this creature. He turned and ran his fingers through his fine hair, then let them fall back in his caramel eyes.

"Err…Get back here, BOY!" snarled the man.

The boy kept walking, beheleit in one hand and a sickle, no, two sickles in one hand. One was smaller than the other. They were both attached to one another by a crudely made chain link. It clattered against the floor as he stepped forward.

~Who the hell is this kid…dammit…. I don't like him…~ The man pushed his cloak back and-


His sword was drawn. He pulled up his metallic arm and held it close to thehilt of the sword until it promptly curled around the bottom of the sword. He smirked. "I'm going to enjoy watching your scrawny ass rip in two…"

Some sun rays peeked through the clouds revealing a lightening sky, shinning down upon the boy. He stopped and stood still, trying to stand tall; his gaze slowly left his frontal view and peered over his shoulder. The two of them met each other's gaze, their eyes meeting for the first time, effervescing with the same thoughts, the same pains, not a passing glance, but a stare in which each studied the soul of the other, souls that they found a likeness to themselves.

"Really?" The boy spoke in such a cold manor; however, there was some innocence to him. He had the voice of a developing child, and unlike the man's rough, spiteful and mourning tone, his own voice was different, anger was merely a façade. He was pained, frightened and unknowing "Come get me…" he mumbled quietly.

The man looked daggers, and with an enraged growl, rushed at the adolescent, holding his sword out at the side ready to swing and slice him in two.

The boy watched momentarily, then charged as well. He didn't carry the burden of wielding a great sword or artillery; therefore possessed the upper hand. He took a sickle up in each hand and leapt up into the sky. The man swung his sword upward at him and as he did the boy's sickles caught onto them, giving him control of the swords direction. His feet landed on the man's head, he balanced and stood there and then gave his sickles a good yank. Then side of the sword his the poor man's head and the child leapt off, doing a slight spin and landed on top of the barrel. He pushed back his cloak and studied him closely. Then tied the beheliet around his neck. His hand, now gave a clear view of his palm. There was a blotch of dried blood in the center.

The man snarled and stumbled a bit, and without thinking or employing some common sense, swung his sword and it hurtled into the barrel.


There was a moment of silence, followed by confusion. He stared at the remains a bit dumbfounded, then growled. The boy was nowhere in sight of it. ~What the hell…this boy is fast…I've got to be faster…where the hell did he go…I won't miss again…~ His eye darted around quickly in an attempt to locate him. "AH! There…" he muttered.

He was at least fifty paces away. ~Damn him to hell…~ He leered. This time he was determined not to miss. He clenched his sword tightly, gave out a frightful yell, than hastened toward the youth.

He stopped. ~Not again.~ he turned around and glared, holding both of his sickles by their deteriorating steel handles and stood his ground. The man held the oversized sword above his head ready to strike down and crush his opponents skull.

~I can't do it…my weapons are too weak…that damned sword would break through them and my skull and he would put little to no effort into it…~ he growled, his hands shaking a bit, but held the sickles up, ready to defend it all with his life. ~If this is the end…I'll see you soon momma…~

"RRRAAAHHHGGG!!" he brought his sword down. The boy shut his eyes tightly holding the sickles above his head. Inches before the blade even touched the sickles, the man stopped and looked around suddenly. His eyes widened "Oh shit…" he glared and dropped his sword, the lad had moved out of the way long since, not being stupid enough to stand under a stopped sword. His gaze peered at the man. Then he stopped. A cold chill ran through his heart.

~Oh no…~

"Ssssaaaacccrrrriiifffiiccceee….sacrifice….ssaaaccr iifffiiicceee…sacrifice….sacrifice…" cried a wheezing voice.

The boy trembled and looked from right to left and narrowed his eyes. "Dammit not now…" he murmured. Gripping his sickles tighter for comfort.

All around, the spirits of the dead came fourth from which they found. Hideous, undead and rotting skeletal corpses arose. Their long, boned hands reached fourth at the two victims, ranting their mantra all around in their dark, ineffable voices.

"Give us the sacfice….flesh…blood….boooones….sacrifice…" they laughed malevolently. A faction of them broke out from the rest and waddled toward the man.

"GET AAWWWAAAY!" he yelled and swung his sword wildly about. "RRAAAHHHGG!!!!" he ran about the hoard of vengeful demon, taking out a head here, a rib there. They cackled at his pitiful attempt. One leapt up on his back, fingers coiling around his neck "Sweet, sweet flesh…." His fists shook and he reached behind him and clutched onto the skull with his calloused hand and ripped it off its decaying spine. Then crushed it in his fists and dropped it. The demon merely laughed and pieced himself back together. "Foolish mortal…you cannot beat us…"

"Cannot beat us…"

"Cannot beat us…"

"SHUT UP!!!!!" he screamed and dropped his sword with one hand, putting it on his head. His metallic hand still clung to the hilt. He opened his eyes, it suddenly widened at the sight. The child was fending off these demons! But…how…He snapped his jaw tightly shut and barred his teeth. Then touched his neck and felt blood. Upon his neck, burned into his skin was a brand; the brand of the sacrifice. With malice in his soul, he grabbed his weapon once more and charged. This time fighting next to the boy. If he could do this, then he'd be damned if was going to give up so easily.

A/N: And that about wraps it up! Aww….Gutts's is makin a friend^^:;;….not really…lol actually, I'm not too proud of the ending of this fic however my friend liked it and she's m editing Hitler so I faced a paradox….to defy Hitler or to follow my heart…in the end I coward before her mighty editing powers and kept it. So there you have it. And once again- yay for a puck-less fic! Tootlez and stay tuned for chapter three- Ethereal Reminisce!