Chapter Text
Deon always knew something was missing. Certain moments were blank from his recollection, and warm, half-hearted hellos turned into avoidance after another blackout. Now, Deon's first thought was that he disappointed them with his unfortunate lack of skill yet an abundance of luck to survive. But that thought eventually found itself being questioned when he saw fear directed at him.
He was confused, a weak, sickly boy like him couldn't possibly be the source of fear but here he was. Standing in a field of red, comrades rushed to move away from him, a mutilated body underneath him; organs barely recognizable from the mush of body matter. He was straddled above the cadaver a dagger in hand, panting as his muscles screamed for rest.
His hands were covered in blood, unknown if it was his or not. However, all the albino could think about was how he got to this point. He was only standing at the back of the group now he stood at the front; in the middle of grotesquely trashed bodies of their enemies.
The opposing party tried to retreat, only for Deon to rush forward, pushing the body to its limit. However mentally, he was panicking, physical control wasn't in his hands; he was merely spectating the slaughter his body brought to the opposing group.
He can feel the stretch and tense of his bones, body twisting and pushing forward as he drags the dagger down across the back of a retreating soldier. Screams echoed as he pounced on the fallen knight, dagger stabbing the body multiple times before going slack. Another corpse to add to the ever-growing number.
º•º•º
It was when they were back at camp did Deon finally felt his body move to his desire. He opened and closed his hands which felt foreign after witnessing it move to cut down enemies before they could scream.
Somehow he felt a bit elated at the fact he killed; causing his mood to darken. However, a certain group, mainly the one he is in charge of, dragged him off to the medical tent.
Cletter had an arm around Deon's neck dragging him off to the tent to get checked up. Right when Deon tried to resist his body decided to give up. He coughed up blood and fell to his knees, the impact was sure to leave a mark on his joints.
The knights under his command panics, hurriedly picking him up to take him to the medical staff. "Help the captain!" One of them shouted. Deon couldn't see who was speaking as he was hoisted over their heads. It was quite the shitshow in the middle of war but the knights did not care for dignity and honor but took matters regarding their captain in high priority.
The doctor situated with them just sighed at the usual antics and ran a full examination on Deon. "Aside from a few cuts that have been sewed up, there are no other injuries to note. Just take this moment to rest for a day or two and don't overuse your body this time." The Doctor said, handing over a cup of water and a painkiller to the albino.
The night has fallen and Deon kept replaying the moment he had witnessed in his head. It felt too real and vivid to just be a dream yet it felt too unrealistic. Eventually, the exhaustion left him to fall asleep.
º•º•º
"Where am I?" Deon stood up from the ground. A void surrounded him in darkness. He should feel unease but somehow he felt familiarity and tranquility in the void lined with water.
Right when he tried to move, he glanced at his feet which were submerged in water. However, what intrigued him was the reflection at stared back at him.
It was a familiar face; one he wouldn't forget no matter what. As it was his own. But the reflection had a twisted expression, a smile graced his face, however the smile did not reach his eyes. The face was stained with blood and unknown matter. Hair in a similar state, dirt, and body matter staining the porcelain white strands.
"Hello." The reflection said, the voice similar to Deon's however slightly distorted. "Who are you?" Deon muttered but as expected the answer was, "You."
"I'm you, you are me." 'Deon 2.0' said, his eyes narrowing to match the grin on his face but the lack of light changed the meaning of the contraction of his face.
"...You're the one who killed them." The closed-eyed smile reply was enough to confirm that what he felt wasn't false. "We're weak, which is why." A hand reached up, breaking the water and dragging Deon down. "We should make them avoid us."
º•º•º
Weeks pass, and Deon has gotten used to chatting with the other him. Most of their conversation was rants about the battlefield and tactics to be used. Hood—he refuses to call him Deon due to confusion nor will he call him Noed as per the alternate's suggestion—was the most twisted person he has ever met. And he met a lot of psychos on the battlefield.
The alternate did not care about anything but survival. He would mutilate bodies in front of their comrades to instill fear. And it didn't matter how he had to do it. Stabbing, slashing, and more unspeakable methods were done.
To the point that Deon purposefully turned a blind eye to the massacre and retreated to the edge of his subconscious. However Hood was always stoic. Deon can somehow feel the emotions the other contains. Fear, guilt, and sadness every time he had to drive a knife to someone's neck. Having to slice through muscles to send a message to the opposing party.
They were the same; desperate to live and return the favor to those who sent them to hell. It just that one was aware of the body's capability and used it to his advantage whereas the other was a coward with incredible luck.
º•º•º
When the war ended Deon just moved on. Years of suffering that started by the emperor's command, was also ended by the emperor. And that man was now seated on a throne before him. Deon knelt on the red carpet, the request resting on his tongue. When the emperor asked him to raise his head, Deon almost froze. Before him was a man of royalty. And probably the most cruel ruler in the empire's history. "Oh my." Deon pointedly decides to glace somewhere else in case Hood says anything that'll get them side-tracked
"Allow me to kill my family."
That night, the loss of a clan was marked on the same day the victory of the empire was celebrated.
"We missed one," Hood said as he leaned the body against the window, the retreating sounds of a running horse signifying his failure. "How's the feeling? Returning the favor." He asked loudly, the inquiry directed to the person hiding inside his mind.
Deon never replied.
º•º•º
When he accompanied the hero to fight the demon king, he had already exhausted his emotional capacity to even care. However, the hero is sickeningly optimistic and infects the surrounding people.
"He's going to die," Hood said through their shared subconscious. "I know." Deon sighed, he tailed after the hero who went to confront the demon king. "A fool." Hood stated before falling into silence.
He reaches a cliff, the battle not in favor of the hero before a presence takes him aback. A cyclops..? Swung at him. Their positions switch as Deon dodges. The cyclops' back now facing the edge of the cliff. A risk was taken as Deon jumped up to stab at the demon.
This pushed both of them down, gravity and impact killing the demon. The hero, in the middle of self-destructing, was shocked at the appearance of a comrade. He struggled to make his way to Deon before trying to send his power to the albino. The light emitted dies down and demons gasps in surprise.
"May I ask for your name?" A man in all black approached him first. The man's eyes were yellow with the sclera being black. He can see the outline of the king's build being hugged by the fitted black outfit. "Hear me out." Hood suddenly pipes up as Deon makes eye contact with the Demon King.
"What do you mean hear me out?!" Deon mentally screamed before answering, "Deon Hardt."