Stalker becomes Hunted

No one goes near her. Not unless they want their arms chopped off (and I assure you it would not be pleasant...). Xyliar only has one family member... her brother. But they lead less than normal lives. Others live in fear of the demonic creatures that haunt the darkness in the night, but then you have the hunters. They turn the stalker into their prey.
She finds it oddly difficult to accept other people, but who needs other people? Who needs anyone? All she needs is the katana at her hip and the murderous hatred of those who prey on the weak and vulnerable.


11. The escape

Training was hard. In Japan everything was so much more… calm… peaceful. But in Britain everyone expected so highly of Xyliar. The moment she arrived she was put through torcher training, only the raw age of four. Then after weeks of pain she finally passed and was moved on to how to wield a katana. Those lessons were the best part about living there; it had a Japanese edge to it that made her feel at home.

            It was odd; everyone dressed so plainly in Britain, all boring and black. When she’d been home she’d been able to wear bright colours in the day when she wasn’t working, but apparently that was actually against the rules. The young Xyliar had been extremely disappointed when they’d forbidden her from dying her hair deep red; apparently black was the ideal colour for everything, eating, sleeping, training, hunting…


She tried to befriend some people, but they just weren’t as kind and polite as her friends at home. That was when she’d decided; if they were going to be snappy and rude to her then she’d be even worse back. They didn’t deserve her kindness. So she quelled her former self and embraced the cruel unforgiving one she used in the present…




Xyliar stalked the corridors of the rooms below. She located her beautiful katana and many weapons she used. She left most of them, as she didn’t have her coat to attach them into, but everything she could strap to her body she did, leaving her katana in her slim fingers. Brushing at her long hair impatiently she crept onwards, readying herself for attack.

            Suddenly a deafening alarm sounded, she swore in irritation as the sound made her start. “Xyliar, please don’t keep escaping punishment.” The irritated voice of Varian came through the speakers. Xyliar swore again angrily and broke into a sprint. “If you come out now I promise you’re free.” Now that was surprising. But being untrusting Xyliar she knew there was no way she could afford to believe him. She didn’t even know why she was really escaping; she thought it was most likely simple boredom and bloodlust. The feeling of nihileitatas wondering the streets, attacking innocent people running through her very veins was too much to ignore.

            She’d left the fan blade behind in the room where she’d found all her weapons, as not to force her into carrying things she didn’t really need. Things that were not needed had to be disposed of…


The halls were slowly getting brighter as windows grew bigger and friendlier. Voices could be heard ahead of her; they were laughing carelessly, clearly children. Xyliar crept along, hoping they wouldn’t see her, she didn’t like hurting children.

            On spotting her, one of them, a boy with deep purple hair and bright curious eyes, froze, tensing and trying to look casual while he set a hand on the axe like thing at his waist. At the tiny movement the girl at his side went still also, drawing out a dagger and examining it, pulling a finger along the blade. Xyliar held her katana relaxed in her grip, calming herself and going on silently.

            “Xyliar?” The boy said, drawing out the axe, an ono (the Japanese word for axe, but a slightly different design than English axes).  She didn’t answer him, and simply carried on walking.

            “Stop! You bitch! You killed Lavinia!” The girl exploded suddenly. “She was my little sister! I’ll never let you get away with killing anyone else!”

            “I personally don’t plan on killing anyone else. I just disliked your sister, she was in my way, and I did warn her.” Xyliar replied calmly. She dodged the girl’s dagger that flew past her ear. “You could have hurt me with that.” Anger shot through her like a bullet from a gun, but she quelled it, what use would it be whipping out an entire blood line? There was no point.

            “Shut up, Revelation.” Xyliar couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the name. One of those word names that annoyed her. Revelation. What kind of name was that for a plain girl like her?

            The girl was silenced; she glared at the boy with obvious disgust.

            “Xyliar. We won’t hurt you if you come with us to the boss.” The boy said calmly.

            “What’s your name?” The hunter asked spinning her katana in her hand like it was nothing more than a twig.

He ran a stressed hand through his purple hair. “My name’s Tarquin, but that’s hardly very important… Please just come with me.”

“I can’t do that. Sorry.” She hopped forward with almost inhuman speed and flipped the katana round smashing the hilt into his head then turned and did the same to Revelation. It served them right; they shouldn’t have gotten in her way like they had…



Xyliar sneaked onwards, up the stairs. Keeping close to shadows. Staying away from people.

            Carefully she slid her katana back into its sheath, trying to avoid the cling the blade made as it settled into place.

            Zenith, she had to find Zenith… They had to get out…  

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