Personal Musings

Title: One Last Cut (oneshot short story, to be expanded on (hopefully))

Death came for me on a Tuesday morning.

The air chilled to a freezing temperature as dense clouds of grey mist rolled in from nowhere and everywhere. The world seemed to darken by several shades, the colors becoming dull and muted, and an otherworldly, decidedly inhuman presence seeped into the air. It was impossible to describe for it was a sensation that affected not the body but the soul itself, some primal part of my mind instinctively registering the fundamental wrongness and screaming at me to run, to hide, to freeze, to die.

From the darkness of the mist it emerged, a tall forbidding entity shrouded in a cloak of curling shadows. I could not see its face – as in, I literally could not see its face; the mortal eye was not created nor meant to perceive such things. Yet if I focused hard enough, channeled my magic to look beyond the surface veil of reality and peer into the deeper realms, I could make out a glimpse of a hollow skull with two burning pinpricks of eldritch black flames for its eyes. It held a scythe at its side, the long menacing blade curved like the crescent moon and gleaming with an unearthly light harvested from dying stars.

Death. The Grim Reaper, the Pale Rider, the Destroyer of Worlds. It was the inescapable truth, the end of all things – and it was standing right before me as I had my morning tea.

Slowly, I lowered the cup from my lips and gently set it down on the porcelain saucer. I cast a glance around to see if anyone else at the teahouse had noticed Death, even though I already knew what I would see. Everyone, from the bustling waitresses to the customers who’d been happily chattering just a second before, now stood still and unmoving. The hands of the clock on the wall were frozen in place and the water from the fountain in the corner hung suspended in the air.

In the presence of Death, even Time held no dominion.

Anyone else would’ve cowered. Would’ve been transfixed in place by a lance of fear and meekly awaited their fate. But I was not anyone else, and as I gazed upon Death, all I could feel was a surge of burning anger rush through me.

“You promised,” I said, and though I tried to keep my voice low and restrained, I could not fully stop my fury from leaking through. “Three summers past, you promised to clear my debt and grant me a lease on life for duties rendered. Did I not do what no one else dared to do? Did I not accomplish your impossible task despite what it cost?”–too much, too many, an endless sea–“Did I not stain my very soul and break enough sacred laws to have half the heavens calling for my head?” I slammed my hands down on the table, the china clattering precariously. “I held up my end of the bargain, Death! I did what you asked in return for a reprieve, a chance to live out the rest of my cursed days in peace. So tell me, damn it all, tell me how you dare stand before me today as though you had forgotten our pact, you oathbreaking son of a–”

I did not come here to reap your soul.

I froze. “You… You didn’t?”

No. As you said, we forged a pact, and Death honors its promises.

“Oh. I see.”

A long, awkward silence descended over us.

Throughout my travels, I’ve wandered the forgotten realms and gambled with my very soul to attain spells of the most arcane. I knew sorcery that could immolate the flesh with flames hotter than the sun, charms that could flood the lungs with liquid mercury, even a curse that could command the earth to open up and swallow a person whole. And at this moment, I was tempted to cast one of them on myself – or perhaps all three.

I coughed several times into my fist. “I… I may have jumped to conclusions a little too quickly.”

Perhaps. But please, go on, finish your sentence. Of what lineage exactly was I born?

It was difficult to determine exactly what Death was thinking, for he used not sound to speak but rather resonations with the soul – reverberations layered with bass that echoed around in my head and rang with a note of absolute authority. Yet, at that moment I could swear I heard a tinge of amusement in Death’s voice.

“A truly fine lineage of metaphysical concepts, I’m certain,” I said, making sure to keep my voice level. “I intended no offense, of course…”

No, no, don’t hold back on my account. Please, continue. I’m dying to know what you think of my parentage.

I winced. Was that pun intentional? There was no way. “I… My apologies. Though in my defense, you appeared out of nowhere in a clearly ominous manner. What was I supposed to think? That you were just dropping by for a cup of tea?”

Oh, I’d be delighted to have some.

I paused, trying to figure out if he was being serious. Death looked back at me expectantly. “Have a seat,” I finally said, deciding to take it in stride, and Death sat down across from me, balancing his scythe so that it leaned against his shoulder. Bemused, I poured out another cup of tea and handed it to him, which he accepted with a surprising grace to his bandaged skeletal limbs.

As one, we raised our cups and sipped our tea. Even with the circumstances, I took a second to relish the delicious aroma of the unique blend; there was a reason why I frequented this teahouse. I steadfastly tried to ignore the absurdity of the situation. Weirder and stranger things had happened to me before. For a while we simply sat there, man and reaper. It could’ve been a few minutes and it could’ve been an eternity – with time rendered impotent, it was hard to tell.

I apologize, Death suddenly said, breaking the silence.

I glanced at Death in confusion. “What for?”

Three summers past, I asked you to do something no mortal should’ve had to do, a task you did not have the choice to refuse—

“Don’t,” I said, my voice hard. “My choice was mine and mine alone. I did what I had to do.”

And you have suffered dearly for it. I can see it in the cracks of your soul, the way your magic constantly bends into itself as if under an unbearable weight. I realize I have never said this before, but you have done the world a great deed. The sanctity of life and death remains pure because of you, and though many may condemn you for your actions and call you a monster, know that you are responsible for saving countless souls, both alive and dead. For that, even if no one else will, I thank you.

A cascade of turbulent emotions tumbled through me at Death’s words. Memories rose from the depths of my mind, drenched in pain and tainted with guilt. Of an impossible task, of an abominable choice, of a decision I could never take back. A sea that stretched out as far as the eye could see.

“I did what I had to do,” I said again, this time in a whisper, and Death inclined his head in a manner that could only be in silent respect. But wasn’t that to be expected? Death knew humans the best, after all. Even as the gods abandoned us and the spirits reviled us, Death alone remained by humanity’s side, everpresent and evercaring in his own special way. He of all beings would understand what it meant to cast aside one’s humanity to save the rest.

I sighed. “It doesn’t matter. The past is the past and I’d like to keep it as such.”

Very well. In which case, I’ll get right to the point of why I came today. I need a favor.

“I’m sorry?”

You’re forgiven.

“No I mean… What do you need a favor for?”

Death held up his hand and an image formed from the shadows. It was the face of a man I didn’t recognize. He was old, ancient even, his face slashed with severe frown lines that gave him a stern, unforgiving aura.

This man’s time came to an end three months ago. His thread was severed and the wheels of his destiny ceased to turn. He had no divine interference to preserve his life nor any infernal interference to condemn it. Yet despite all that, he still lives on, breathing freely as we speak.

I frowned. “What? Why? Haven’t you gone to reap his soul already?”

I have. Of course I have; it is my natural duty to claim the souls whose times are up. It’s just that… Well… Death shifted in his seat, and to my worry, he seemed almost uncomfortable. No, not just uncomfortable. Death seemed downright perturbed. He keeps on defeating me.

I stared at Death. “What?”

Every time I try to reap his soul, he is somehow able to sense my presence and fend me off. Death said, his voice sounding bewildered, as if he couldn’t believe the words he was saying. I didn’t blame him; I felt much the same. The last time I tried, he cut my scythe in half.

I looked at his scythe, and sure enough, I could see a scar carved into the blackened wood of the shaft. I looked back at Death. “How?”

I do not know. I cannot determine what manner of magic he uses, what arcane sorcery he wields. There is a possibility he possesses a power older than even myself, and I confess, the idea troubles me.

It troubled me too. “So I’m guessing you want me to track him down and – well, kill him?”

Death nodded. Yes.

I felt as though I should refuse on principle alone. I didn’t want to become known as Death’s pet assassin or servant killer. It wouldn’t be the worst of my titles, but it would be the most demeaning. This case was much too interesting to pass up, though. A mystery, a challenge, and a purpose all rolled up in one. I thought I’d burned my spirit to a desiccate husk three years ago, but I suppose I still had a trace of my old self left. Some things never truly died, it seemed.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll do it. What can you tell me about him?”

He uses the sword.

I waited for more to come. “That’s it?”

That is it.

“You couldn’t have at least prepared a file with some more basic information on him?”

Death does not do paperwork.

“Right…” Well, this wouldn’t be the first time I leapt headfirst into a situation completely blind. Hell, once upon a time, I even preferred it like this. It was more fun. “Fine. I’ll manage. Shall we go?”

Death nodded. The ground underneath turned solid black and we melted into the twin voids of darkness. A second later we emerged into a forest clearing surrounded by massive trees that towered over us. Sunlight streamed through the canopy above, illuminating the old man sitting balanced on a rock more akin to a boulder before us. His eyes were closed and his breathing even, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was asleep. I knew better, though.

No man in slumber could make me instantly start trembling from his presence alone.

I laughed, throwing my head back in sheer delight. Not even Death had ever made me so scared. But this old man, this decrepit doddering man who looked like he had one foot already in the grave, was making my instincts blare with such alarm? “You spoil me, Death!” I said as I laughed and laughed. “To think you had such a thoughtful gift prepared!” How long had it been since I’d found someone who exhilarated me so much? For the first time in three years, the song of bloodlust screamed to life in my mind as my magic swirled into existence, a maelstrom of raw unimaginable power–

I stilled. The man was looking right at me. Our eyes met, and in that instant I understood.

Death made to step forward, his scythe spinning in his grasp, but I stopped him with a raise of my hand. My gaze didn’t leave the man’s eyes.

“I see,” I said quietly. I wish I didn’t, but I did. “Death, can you please stay out of this one?” Death didn’t hesitate, nodding and stepping back immediately. The man didn’t move, still sitting in a relaxed position on the boulder as he regarded me. “You…” I said to him. “You see it too, don’t you?”

“Depends,” the man said for the first time, a polite curiosity to his gaze. “What do I see?”

I smiled. A small, sad smile.

“An endless sea of blood, stretched out as far as the eye could see.”

There was a moment of absolute silence.

“I’m very glad that you are here,” the man said, sincerity in his every word as his wizened face crinkled into a genuine smile. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“I know,” I said. Then I thrust my hand straight upward to the heavens and the heavens answered with a deafening roar, a bolt of lightning splitting the sky and slamming down onto the man. The world shook as the air thrummed with undiluted energy. Through the ensuing cloud of dust and debris burst out the man, an iron blade held in his hand. His clothes weren’t even singed from the blast. He dashed at me with a speed no man his age had the right to have, moving so fast the wind whistled around him.

The earth beneath us groaned and shuddered before the ground underneath him opened up. He didn’t even miss a step, having already leaped into the air a second beforehand. I anticipated this, however, and I was already slashing my hand across the air. A whirlwind of hardened wind formed into existence and hurtled forward with a piercing screech. Checkmate. Defenseless in the air as he was with no way to dodge, there was no way he could avoid my attack.

He didn’t. Instead, he raised his sword and cut the whirlwind in half before landing lightly and continued running at me.

I blinked in confusion. What? I channeled magic to my eyes and focused on his sword, trying to determine what type of magical blade it was. But I saw nothing. No magic, no enchantments. The iron sword was the iron sword was the iron sword. Through my confusion I flicked my palm up at him and sent out several fireballs, each crackling with a heat that rivaled the stars. The air hissed and nearby foliage ignited into flames from the proximity alone, but the man simply cut them in half as well.

No, no, no. This wasn’t right. Gritting my teeth, I sent a barrage of attacks at him. Curses of the darkest and foulest magecraft, forbidden spells that once caused entire civilizations to crumble, arcane sorcery of such might and power that it’d be enough to bring down even a god. My magic bled off me in waves, potent and unrestrained, a rainbow of color that lit up the environment all around us. I sent everything I had at the man, the air so thick with spells it would’ve made even Death take a step back.

And the man cut through every single fucking one.

He uses the sword, Death had said. I was starting to see why he’d only uttered those four words. For what else could he say? Even with my enhanced sight, I couldn’t see the man using a drop of magic. For all intents and purposes, he was just a normal man wielding a normal blade. It didn’t make sense.

Shit, when did he get so close to me?

I felt a flash of fear. Snapping my fingers, I teleported backwards a hundred meters just to gain some space. I wasn’t running away. That’s a lie, I totally was. But could you blame me?

“How?!” I asked. “How are you doing this?! A divine contract? Spirit possession?” My stomach dropped. “Oh fuck… You didn’t sell your soul to Her, did you-?”

“Why do you look down on humanity so?”

I didn’t understand. What did he mean? What part of his impossible displays was human?

Unless… No, there was no way. And yet, it was the only explanation. Understanding dawned on me. I began to laugh again, this time with a hysterical tinge to it. The answer was so obvious. It was looking at me right in the face this entire time.

There was no magic here. There was no trick, no divine assistance, no outside supernatural interference. This was just skill. Pure, peerless swordsmanship that allowed a mere mortal man to transcend the limits of humanity and reach a level of mastery that surpassed the gods themselves.

What the fuck? Was that even possible? Could a man cut through such incredibly powerful spells with skill and skill alone? Could a man cut through Death’s own scythe with only raw technique?

It was an absurd thought. Yet here I was.

The man must’ve seen the realization in my eyes because he nodded. “You finally understand.”

“How long?” I asked. “How long did it take for you to attain such skill?”

It was now the man’s turn to smile a small, sad smile.

“Not long enough.”

I considered his words. Ah. “Was it worth it?”

“I don’t know. Was it worth it for you?”

Somehow, I knew we were no longer talking about his skill with the sword.

“I think so,” I said.

“Even if you slaughtered an entire country with your own two hands?” There was a fierce look in the man’s eyes as he asked me that question. Fierce, but desperate.

“Even then,” I said quietly. “After all, you did it for a reason, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he answered after a long moment, his voice as quiet as mine. His gaze hardened with resolve. “Yes, I did.”

Kill ten to save a hundred. Kill a hundred to save a thousand. Kill a thousand to save a million.

Back when our gazes had first met, I had recognized the look in his eyes instantly. The look that spoke of haunting memories, of an unbearable guilt and an impossible choice, of warring conviction and despair, as if he knew he made the right choice but he despised himself for it anyhow. I knew that look very well. It was one I saw in the morning every time I gazed into the mirror.

Kill a million to save a billion.

I didn’t know the circumstances of his choice. I didn’t know who he killed, or how many he killed, or who he killed them for. I didn’t need to know. Our hearts were already one and the same. We were both men who had thrown away our humanity for our oathsworn duty and received a sea of blood drowning our memories in return. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so damn tragic.

“Look at us,” he suddenly said. “Talking in the middle of a fight like two gossiping old maids. Shall we finish our duel?”

I answered by bringing another bolt of lightning down on him.

Our battle resumed in a clash of steel and magic. The landscape around us was altered, the forest turning into a desert wasteland into an ocean into a pool of burning lava into mountains of jagged rock. More than once I nearly lost my head. Everything became a blur as I lost myself in the flow of the fight.

Until finally, it ended. I leaned back against a pillar of stone for support as the man stood over me, sword still gripped tightly in his hand even as he lacked half of his chest.

He tilted his head, assessing the situation.

“So it ends, huh?” he asked.

“So it ends,” I said.

Our eyes met once more, and a look of mutual understanding, of mutual respect, of mutual pain, passed between us.

“I still don’t know if I can forgive myself,” he said, almost as a confession.

“That’s okay,” I said. “Even if you cannot, I’ll forgive you in your place.”

“Is that so?” He smiled. “I think I can live with that. Thank you.”

From our side, Death approached shrouded in shadows and clouds of grey mist, his scythe held at the ready. It was time. The man didn’t have much longer.

“What is your name?” I asked.

He looked surprised. It took him a moment to answer, as if he was trying to remember. “Gabriel,” he said. “Just Gabriel. And you?”

“Arthur M. Iya.”

Gabriel nodded before turning to look at Death.

Will you duel me again this time? Death asked

“No. Not this time, Death. This time, I’m ready.” Gabriel hesitated. “Will it hurt?”

Yes. Immensely.

“Wait, what?”

You cut my favorite scythe in half.

Gabriel’s eyes widened. “Hold on, I apologize–“

I jest, of course. Be at peace.

Death’s scythe swung down, and a wearied soul finally found rest. The man’s body disintegrated into shards of grey light before even that dissipated into nothingness.

I stared at Death. Death stared back at me.

“Was that really necessary?” I asked.

Yes. I do believe it was.

“Well. Okay, then.” I paused, a thought coming to form. “You knew,” I said, almost accusingly. “You knew he was waiting for someone like me.”

I did. For months Gabriel refused to die, refused to let me reap his soul. He stubbornly held onto life until he could die at the hands of someone who fully understood him. Someone who could acknowledge his sacrifice and grant him forgiveness. That was all he ever wanted, and that was why I brought you to him. To allow one soul to finally move on… and to allow another to see that he too is not beyond salvation.Death’s skull visage seemed to grin at me. The tides of the sea have receded a bit, has it not? The waves quieter, the crimson less vivid?

“Oh, you crafty old bastard,” I said as I realized he was right. Death chuckled, and I joined in a moment later. “This was… pleasant. You have any more missions you need me to do?”

Death never rests. The missions are endless.

“Heh. Hope the pay is good, at least.”