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Heaven's Requiem: The Edge of Eternity

                                                                                                                     Chapter 1

The wop-wop sound of the helicopter’s blades rotating at high speed was annoying to say the least. That coupled with the deafening roar of the drill sound coming from the helicopter’s engine was starting to drive Alexander mad. However, he endured it because he was only 10 feet above his home, the Hellsing Estate, the headquarters of the American Branch of the Hellsing Organization.

He looked around the interior of the Bell UH-1 Iroquois he was currently in. He saw relief on the scratched and bruised faces of his subordinates. He began to survey his equipment and the equipment of his men. Their military-grade armor were sporting some deep claw and bite marks. Their guns were also heavily scratched. His armor and guns were in the same condition. He and some of his men were also sporting these deep scratches. Some were griping the area in which they were scratched, trying to subdue the pain until they landed.

“Mr. Hellsing and everybody else we’re about to land. Please brace yourselves.” The pilot announced from the cockpit.

A waves of sighs of flooded the helicopter. Alexander reached into his left pants pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He opened the pack and pulled out a cigarettes. After lighting it and putting it into his mouth, he took a long puff. Everyone looked on dumbfounded, their eyes fixated on the spectacle in a fascinated bewilderment.

“Sir, I thought you stopped smoking a year ago?” One soldier asked.

“I did. However, consider it a way to remember those who have died today.”  Alexander motioned over to the two helmets sitting next to him. “Their deaths were brutal. They were incinerated by hellfire while demons laughed and taunted them! Their flesh and bones reduced to ashes! The fluid in their eyes boiled! All we have left of them is their helmets.  This is my way of keeping their memory alive.”

Everyone was taken aback by his striking words. They sat there in awe of his compassion for his subordinates.

“Do not consider this an act of mourning. It’s so much more than that! This is a declaration of battle! We are Hellsing! We do not shirk when the enemy presents themselves!” Alexander proclaimed.

Every soldier in the helicopter raised their guns into the air and yelled triumphantly. Alexander’s determination spread like a disease. Confident smiles popped up on the faces of Alexander’s soldiers.

“Next time we see those monsters, we’ll give ‘em Hell.” one soldier remarked. Another soldier said, “Hell yeah.”

The helicopter slowly descended onto the helipad and stopped shortly. The speed of its rotors decreased rapidly as its powerful engine slowed and soon stopped. Alexander and his men stepped out of the helicopter and into the coldness of the midnight mountain air. The air was like that of needles pricking their skin, but they didn’t mind it, they actually welcomed it. They were finally home.

“All injured personnel report to the infirmary for treatment. After that, those scheduled for guard duty will start their shift and rotate from there. Those who are scheduled for guard duty, if your weapons or armor are not in working condition, report to the armory and pick up a working model. If any of you have any questions whatsoever, ask them now. If not, I’ll be in my office.” Alexander said with a hint of authority in his voice.

“Yes, sir!” All the soldiers exclaimed, saluting him.

Alexander removed the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled some of the smoke. “What are you waiting for? You have your orders.”

The soldiers marched into the mansion. Alexander followed behind them. He let out a small chuckle of relief. He made his way leisurely to his office, which was down the hallway adjacent to the entrance to the helipad.

When he stepped into the hallway, he felt an unusual sort of pressure in the air. A pit of anxiety formed and lodged itself in his stomach. He stopped dead in his tracks. Sweat beaded down his head like water beads off a leaf. With slight trepidation, he made his way down the hallway to his office through the heavy air.

Nearing the end of the hallway, Alexander felt a sharp pain in his chest. Blood spewed from Alexander’s mouth. He strained his head and looked down to find a scythe blade piercing the left side of his body. He tried screaming out in agony but all that escaped his crimson-covered lips was him gurgling as he choked on his own blood. The world around him grew cold and dark. A comforting darkness engulfed him as he fell and hit the ground with a thud. The floor under him was stained a beautiful crimson, a magnificent dark scarlet.

When Alexander awoke, he was being shaken by Anthony, his replacement for his old advisor. Alexander’s vision was blurry but he could make out at least one other human, it was a medic. Alexander sat up a bit and started rubbing his head, trying to remember what had happened to him.

“What happened here Alexander?” Anthony asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

“I remember being impaled by a scythe and dying face-down in a pool of my own blood. Other than that, everything else is a blur.”

“Sorry to tell you this bud, but you’re well and live.” Anthony said.

A small smile creeped up onto Anthony’s face. Alexander began looking around and patting his body, trying to find a single drop of blood. All he found was some drool. Disbelief swept over Alexander.

“I saw it. I was dead. It happened.” Alexander mumbled under his breath, making sure nobody heard him.

“It sounds like you had a case of insomnia-induced hallucination.” The medic said. “You have been telling us you were having trouble sleeping. You really need to stop working so hard and rest.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll get some rest.”

“Good. If something like this happens again, just call me Mr. Hellsing.”

The doctor walked down the staircase and soon disappeared out of sight. Anthony helped Alexander onto his feet and put his arm around Alexander’s shoulder, supporting him. They started walking down the same hallway again, that pressure still in the air.

What was that? It was so vivid. Alexander thought to himself. I was dead. Alexander was staring at the floor, the floor where his bloodied dead body was laying moments ago.

“What’s wrong Alexander? You haven’t said a word the entire time.”

“It’s that so called ‘hallucination’. I was dead. It was all so vivid. I felt the pain when the scythe impaled my body. I felt the blood as it leaked out of my body. There was no denying that.”

Anthony chuckled a bit. “You really do need some sleep don’t you?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

After a short walk through the hallway, they finally arrived at the door to Alexander’s office. They turned the door knob and opened the door. Inside the medium-sized room, they saw a young man sitting in Alexander’s chair, grinning at them with a sinister smile.

The young man had short, pure white hair. His eyes were a shining amethyst color, they looked cold and calculating, the eyes of a grim reaper. His appearance was youthful and human-like, yet he gave off a weird pressure, a weird feeling, not unlike that of the pressure in the hallway. His skin was pale. The young man wore an all-white tuxedo with matching white gloves. He was sitting in Alexander’s chair, facing both Anthony and Alexander.

“Hello there. Welcome back Alexander Hellsing and Anthony Hawkins.” The young man said.

Alexander pushed himself away from Anthony quickly. He reached into one of the holsters on his leg and pulled out a 9mm pistol. He pointed it directly at the intruder’s head.

“You’re going to tell me exactly who you are and why you’re here or I’m going to paint a new masterpiece on the wall!” Alexander exclaimed.

“My name is Azrael. I’m the Archangel of Death. I came here to enlist your aid Alexander Hellsing.”

“You? An angel? Nice try. This the fourth time mercenaries have infiltrated this mansion and tried to kill me. I want a name and a purpose right now!”

Alexander pulled the hammer back. He tightened his grip on the trigger. He glared at the young man before him. If hate was a fire, the young man would have been incinerated by now.

“What should we do with him Anthony?

“I believe there is a traitor in our midst because of these recent mercenary attacks. Maybe he knows something about it.”

Alexander shifted his attention back onto Azrael.

“Name, purpose, and the name of the traitor now!”

“I already told you my name and my purpose. As for the traitor, I know nothing. If I knew the name of such a being, I would rend their bones to a fine dust and give them a slow and agonizing death. Traitors are the lowest of the low.”

He’s playing coy. Alexander thought to himself. Alexander pulled the trigger. The bullet raced out of the barrel and lodged itself in Azrael’s arm. Blood stained Azrael’s pure white suit an extravagant crimson. Pain surged through Azrael’s body, however, instead of a face wracked with pain and a scream of agony, he was shocked when he saw Azrael’s euphoric face and he heard Azrael’s laughing.

Azrael put his right hand on the gunshot wound and held it there for a second. He removed it and held it under the light. The scarlet liquid gleamed under the light and stained Azrael’s glove. Azrael looked down at the glove, his eyes filled with lunacy.  He laughed harder.

Alexander’s heart was beating quickly. His thoughts were racing. This guy is crazy. Alexander pulled the trigger. The bullet whizzed out of the barrel and flew straight into Azrael’s head. When it exited, blood and viscera exited with it, spraying out and painting the wall behind the Azrael. The blood dripped down the wall slowly.

Alexander turned around and faced Anthony, who had a look of disbelief plastered onto his face.

“Well he proved to be worthless.”

“I’ll call a mortician to get rid of the body.”

Laughter bellowed out from behind them both. They swiftly turned around and set their gaze onto the dead body in Alexander’s chair. The body was dead, yet they heard its voice.

The blood of the wall began to levitate off of it and coalesce into a gigantic ball of blood right above the body. The blood rushed into the chunk of Azrael’s head that was missing. The lost brain matter started regenerating first. After that the skull began to reform itself as well. Finally, his scalp and hair grew back and covered up the now, regenerated wound. This happened in what appeared to be mere seconds. Azrael stood up and walked in front of the desk, right in front of Alexander and Anthony.

Fear and panic rushed over Alexander and Anthony. They stood still, paralyzed in the presence of the monster that before stood them. A sinister grin creeped its way onto Azrael’s face.

“The fuck are you!?” They shouted in unison.

Anthony pulled out his pistol from its holster and they both opened fire on Azrael. Azrael was sustaining heavy damage. One bullet came after another, repeatedly injuring Azrael with each shot. After 16 shots, their guns both ran out of ammo. Azrael’s body was bent over. It was full of bullet holes. Blood dripped from his body. The bullets slid out of Azrael’s wounds and dropped to the floor with a metallic clink.

Alexander and Anthony stood there in horror and awe as Azrael once again regenerated his wounds and smiled at them. Azrael straightened out his body and looked at Alexander and Anthony, who sat on the floor with their jaws open. Sweat dripped down their foreheads. Terror gripped them and held them in place.

“If you’re done being afraid, please listen. Fear not. I only wish to enlist your aid on a very important matter. If you refuse, I’ll ask one of your siblings. If you accept, you can expect a great reward from Heaven. So what will it be, Alexander Hellsing? Azrael inquired.

Alexander and Anthony straightened up, steeling themselves for a conversation with Azrael. They faced each other and whispered, trying to ascertain Azrael’s motive.

“He’s obviously a demon. Kill him Alexander.”

“Every demon in hell hates me. If he was a demon, he would have tried to kill me by now.”

“Well, what is he then? A werewolf maybe?”

Alexander broke away from Anthony and faced Azrael, who was leaning against the desk with his arms folded, a smirk on his face.

“Have you decided yet or do you need more time?

“I’ll help you but on one condition.”

“WHAT! Did you not see what he just did!? You can’t possibly trust him!” Anthony objected.

“Stand down Anthony.” Alexander commanded.

Anthony stopped talking but the accusing look on his face did not leave. His gaze was set on Azrael.

“What is this condition?”

“I wish to know exactly what you and are why you’re here.”

Azrael let out a small sigh.

“I already told you my name and purpose.”

“You’re an Archangel, one of the seven most powerful beings in all of Heaven. Other angels have told me about the great power an Archangel possess. What problem could I possibly help you with?”

“Although I possess great power, I’m forbidden from using most of it in this realm. I only possess approximately 10% of my actual power. The rest is locked in these gloves, which I can only unlock when ordered to or I deem the situation dire enough to do so. I’m essentially a regular angel at the moment.” Azrael said.

Azrael showed Alexander the back of his pure white gloves. Written of the right was a circular symbol with strange markings inside of it. In the four corners of the circle, there were words written in Greek as far as Alexander could tell. The words were: ΑΖΡΑΕΛ ΜΟΩΤΗ ΑΔΟΝΑΨ ΧΗΑΨ. The left had an inscription that said “Keter”. The inscriptions both glowed a pale yellow for a moment.

“The problem I have is I’m trying to retrieve a very powerful and ancient holy relic, or, rather, the pieces of one before someone else does.”

“Who is this someone?” Anthony interjected.

“That’s another one of my problems. Uriel, the Archangel of Light, had a vision and told me some being would try to rebuild the legendary gauntlet known as, ‘The Hand of God’. This gauntlet is imbued with a fraction of God’s power. It used to be wielded by God’s strongest angel, however, after Lucifer went mad and tried to destroy Heaven with the gauntlet, it was split into seven pieces and scattered throughout the dimensions.  I was ordered to come to Earth and find the pieces of the gauntlet by any means necessary, however, Uriel’s visions are vague, so I have no idea who’s looking for it, only that someone is after it.”

“I’m sorry Azrael, but I don’t know who's looking for the gauntlet either. I’m useless to you.”

“No, you’re not. You control an international demon hunting organization. You have access to resources most humans don’t. You see, the pieces are scattered between two dimensions, this one and the magical one. You can help me search for a piece when it activates in this world or the other. Now do you accept?”

“I accept.”

“Excellent. I suggest you rest, for tomorrow is a day full of hardship.”

Alexander walked to the door across from his desk and opened it. He went inside and closed the door. A soft click was heard as the lock snapped into place. He was still uneasy about Azrael.

“Umm…do you need sleeping quarters? If you do, I can provide you some.”

“That won’t be necessary Anthony. Angels don’t require sleep. Don’t worry about me. I found some entertainment in the forest.”


“A demon is stalking this mansion. I noticed it when I arrived here. I’ll go take care of it. You can go to bed now.”


Anthony walked out of the room with Azrael trailing him.

“I have a question?

“What is it?”

“What was that strange pressure Alexander and I felt in the hallway?”

“That is what you humans call ‘killing intent’. As per its name, killing intent is how much I or any other being wishes to kill another being or beings. Soldiers radiate low levels of killing intent at all times. Beings, such as, murderers and myself exude gigantic amounts of killing intent at times. Given my position and how long I have existed, I have learned how to manipulate and fine tune how much killing intent I exude at all times. Strong enough killing intent can induce realistic hallucinations, fear, paralysis, and anxiety in those in range of it.”

“Okay…see you tomorrow morning. Good night.”

“Good evening.”

A smile plastered itself onto Azrael’s face. Anthony strolled down the staircase and disappeared around a corner when he reached the bottom. Azrael walked outside to the helipad. He walked over to the edge and stared down. Two red eyes stared back up at him.

A shadow-like body began to form around the eyes. It took on the form of a dog-like creature. Its skin was pitch black. It had six white ram-like horns that twisted several times and covered its body. It had seven frothing mouths filled with sharp razor-like teeth that opened into each other. It had nine eyes that cover a portion of its body.

Azrael’s smile grew wider as the lust of battle grew within him. His face was wracked with the madness of combat. His gloves glowed a pale yellow. A pale yellow shot out from his left glove and took on the form of a scythe. It solidified in Azrael’s hand. The scythe’s blade was jagged and sharp. The snath of the scythe appeared to be made of a spine. The bones shined under the moonlight.

“God’s Executioner. Angel of the Left. Crimson Reaper. Horseman of Death. You’re here.”

“Dazerranon, you will tell me why you’re here or I will rip you into bloody shreds you mongrel.”

“Why you insolent angel!”

Using its powerful hind legs, the creature launched itself at Azrael. Azrael didn’t dodge, allowing the creature to bite down into his right arm. Blood was drawn. Pain surged at his arm. His smile grew. Azrael shook the creature off, his arm still in its mouth, and threw it at the helicopter. His arm came off, sending surges of pain through his body. Azrael was bleeding profusely. His smile intensified. The helicopter was crushed and fell over and the beast was impaled by one of its blades. The beast howled in agony. It began wriggling and writhing, trying to set itself free but to no avail. Its blood was draining from its body and staining the helicopter and helipad.

Azrael’s arm grew back quickly. His pure white suit was stained a dark scarlet in several areas, but like his arm, it regenerated its pure white color. He started walking over to his prey slowly. He glared down at the demon with his cold, calculating eyes, like that of a grim reaper, while he smiled like a madman. As he drew closer, the demon wriggled more but it still couldn’t break free.

“You fool. You thought you could challenge me. How pathetic. I was really hoping for a challenge and all I got was a mangy mutt. Oh well, a kill is a kill. You’re going to tell me everything you know demon.”

Using all of its seven mouths, it began speaking to Azrael. Its inhumanly deep voice echoed throughout the forest. Blood dripped from its mouths. It coughed up blood as it talked.

“Ugh! Ugh! -I was sent by Sam-Ugh! Ugh! -el. I was told to spy on- Ugh! Ugh! –and if need be, kill Alexander Hellsing. But, then you came along and I had to delay my mission.”

“Thank you for your contribution demon, it was greatly appreciated. Your reward… is Hell!” Azrael exclaimed, an inhuman echo in his now deeper voice.

The demon looked on in fear as Azrael readied his scythe. It was quivering, shaking in terror. Azrael raised his scythe high and with one swift slash the demon’s head came flying off and landed at his feet. He savagely slashed and sliced the demon’s headless body repeatedly until it reduced to nothing more than a pile of viscera and entrails. The helipad was bloodied and limbs lay in several places. Azrael began laughing like a madman at the very sight of it. His very laugh was the sound of madness. After he was finished laughing, he returned his gaze to the mess before him.

His right hand began glowing, surrounded by a pale yellow energy. With a snap of his fingers, the crushed helicopter, the blood, and the viscera were surrounded by a sphere made of the same energy. This dome had magical inscriptions and a clock-like symbol on it.

“Negate.” Azrael commanded.

The hands of the clock on all of the spheres began moving in opposite directions and as they did, the helicopter inside began returning to a state before its destruction, while the others became nonexistent.

After everything was tidy, he went back inside the mansion and closed the door leading to the helipad. Leaning against a wall, he covered his face somewhat with his left hand, his right eye still visible between his fingers. The silver cross that was around his neck jiggled somewhat when he did so. He was still smiling.

“Samael, I can’t wait to see you again… old friend. We will have a great time playing this game of ours. We are two sides of the same coin, you and me, good and evil.”

Azrael cackled a little, which soon erupted into a symphony of cacophonous insanity that echoed throughout the mansion.          

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