Geslin

“What do you make of that, D? Is this the best you can do? Just
try it. Can’t you cut us down?” “I can cut you.” “What?!”

D’s eyes gave off a fierce red glare. Parrying all the nonexistent stakes
roaring towards him with a graceful movement, D charged into the very
center of the besieging horde of dead.

Geslin’s head was split it two, the expression of shock still plastered to
his face. The head flew off a youth who had a stake held high and was
ready to strike. Naked steel penetrated the bosom of a woman who was
retreating in screams. A pair of fangs jutted from D’s mouth. Who could
have stood to look directly at that ghastly visage? This was no less than the
slaughter of the dead by a demon of a man.

Rain splashed off the silver blade.
Amidst the wind and rain and darkness stood the lonely figure of D.
There was no one there. Just as it always was.

Even the cut on his cheek had disappeared. The whole battle had taken
place in his mind.


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