1 Prologue

"Sir! We must leave now! It's here!" A middle-aged soldier shouted as he burst into the room, sweat dripping down his face as he was trying to speak in between breaths, shutting the door behind him as he threw his body on top of the double doors as if to keep it shut.

A man with blonde hair that was in a bun sitting on the top of his head, his hands behind his back as he paced back in fourth, several television screens to his side with cameras on said screens, but instead of showing the typical grey and black pictures, the screens were showing nothing but the fuzzy grey, black, and white screen that indicated the cameras were broken.

"Are you serious?!" The blonde-haired man shouted, enraged. "I had over fifty men guarding this building, and you're telling me that monster of a human being got through!?" The man that was now trying to become one with the door nodded fearfully.

"Yes sir, he was-" He was interrupted as a blade came through the door and came out of his chest, piercing his heart, the steel sword dripping crimson blood. "G-General?" The soldier uttered out before the sword was withdrew from his chest as he slumped to the floor, dead.

"It is here," The blonde muttered. "Damn it all!" He shouted, slamming his fist onto the desk, breaking it into more than five different pieces.

"Sir," A man shouted, borderline hysterical. "What do we do?! What do we do? We're all gonna di-" He shouted before a knife suddenly found itself stuck right in his forehead, piercing his brain as he hit the ground with a thump.

"Proture, it's over. I've been told to give you a choice, surrender or die," A monotone voice sounded out as the door opened, revealing someone dressed in all black besides the hood, which was red that covered their head and shadowed their face, the only features seen being the mouth and a lock of braided black hair draping out of the hood on the left of their face, it reaching right to their shoulder.

The man known as Proture laughed, but it wasn't one of humor, or one of insanity, but one of a man who has lost.

"Of course they sent you! Why wouldn't they? You are the best after all, and you're only a child!" Proture shouted, a rather wide grin on his face.

"I will not ask again," The hooded figure said as they flicked their sword to the side, all the blood suddenly off of the blade, returning it to the clean steel it once was.

"Oh, trust me, I wasn't intending on letting you!" Proture shouted as he jumped forward, brandishing a knife as he slashed down, ready to slice into the hooded figure's head, but was stopped midair as he suddenly found a knee in his stomach, causing spit to fly out of his mouth.

"Never knew you were suicidal," They whispered in Proture's ear before quickly spinning around the man's body and kicking him into the ground, causing the concrete to crack under the man's weight.

The figure landed on the man's back, sword in hand, ready for the kill.

"Goodbye, Proture."

The figure in black with the red hood walked into the room, the sword they carried on the left side of their hip, their left hand resting on the hilt.

The said room they walked into was filled with various amounts of people on computers, each typing furiously or watching a video furiously, working their hearts out.

A woman in the middle of the room standing on a platform as she looked down at the workers, saw the figure approach, and couldn't help the smile that crossed her face. She had light green eyes with short dark brown hair, dressed in the standard military outfit which was blue camouflage and combat boots.

"I've heard all good things, your mission was a success correct?" The figure nodded once, a smirk playing upon their lips. "Absolutely amazing, I knew the moment you took this mission the war would be over in no time, now all we have to do is finish off the remaining rebel bases. Thanks to you, their leader is dead and they cannot replace such a strong one at that."

"He wasn't strong, just stronger than the average man I guess," The figure said as they climbed up the stairs and stood in front of the commanding general. "But now that the war is basically over, I can expect my wishes to be fulfilled?" The general nodded, all but happy to comply.

It didn't help that the figure could kill her at a moment's notice, so if she had said no then she wouldn't be alive in that second. They were. . . sadistic in a way that could be used to their war efforts advantage.

"Yes, what was your wish again? Remember, you can have anything. Money, power, a good political position, anything and it's yours."

"I just want to be normal teenager," The figure stated for what felt like the hundredth time since the five-year war began.

"Ah, a shame," The general said, shaking her head almost sadly. "I was hoping you'd pick to be a general like me so we could work together more. You'd be a very valuable ally." The figure shrugged.

"Well, I'm already wealthy, so that's the money. I'm the reason we won the war, so that's the power, and for that same reason, that's my political position, I'm pretty much set. I just want to be normal for a change," The general smiled at the figure in black.

"Then your wish is my command, you will be missed, Red Reaper." The figure let out a snort, chuckling a little bit as they began walking away.

"I've always wondered why they called me that," They said in between laughs. The general let a smirk play upon her pink lips.

"It's because of your red eyes, of course, it's supposedly the last thing on of your victims see before they die," The figure stopped walking as they turned around, and almost glowing red eyes appeared from the shadow that the hood created, a grin on their face.

"I guess so, but it all sounds so morbid. . . I like it." They turned around and lifted their hand into the air, waving it slightly as if dismissing the woman. "Goodbye General Brister, it was nice fighting alongside you in my ear," As if on cue, the earpiece fell out of the figures hood as they "accidentally" stepped on it, crushing it.

"See ya Red, will there be a way to contact you if we need help?" The figure laughed once more, shaking their head in amusement.

"No," They said simply before walking out the door, leaving General Brister dumbfounded before she pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head.

"Children, can't live with them, nor without them," She muttered to herself before she turned to a soldier that was approaching.

"What is it, Lieutenant Bale?" She said, no longer in a playful mood she was a second ago. The man saluted, his figure stiff and orderly.

"Shall we go ahead and take out the remaining rebels?" The general nodded.

"Yes, leave no survivors. I don't want another civil war on our hands, if this happens again, I'm afraid no Red Reaper can save us this time," Bale nodded before running off, leaving the general by herself at the command station, her eyes fixated on a screen as she saw the profile of what the Red Reaper was truly like.

"What an enigma," She whispered to herself before deleting the page, leaving no evidence that the Red Reaper ever existed, unknowingly creating a legend that would be told throughout the next few years.