Once upon a time there was a perverted young man named Issei. Though good at heart, his age equaled the time he had spent without a girlfriend, until one day a beautiful girl he had never met before randomly confessed her love to him.

Obviously, it was a lie. The girl was a fallen angel who, for one obscure reason or another, wanted to kill him. Which she eventually did, with great relish. She lured him out to a secluded park, shoved a spear of light between his ribs and left him to die.

In one world, Issei was saved by a beautiful girl with red hair. He met a kind nun, a sensual demi-fallen angel, a loli cat girl, a brave knight, a shy vampire, an exorcist with a spectacular magic sword and his long lost childhood friend, and together they would get up to mischief and adventures of all sorts.

But what if all those people didn't exist. Then what? Would Issei then die, alone in the mud, without ever seeing another sunrise, without falling in love, without holding his first child in his arms, without growing old or seeing his grandchildren or experiencing life as he should...

Would he die, cold, betrayed and alone?

Yes.

Yes he would.

Issei lay on the ground, bleeding. It was astonishing, he thought, how much blood was contained within the human body. He could no longer hear his own heartbeat, nor the sounds of breathing. It left the world around him horrifyingly quiet.

Though the spear had burned to high hell, it didn't seem to have cauterized the wound, allowing for maximum leakage. It had also disappeared, which he had mixed feelings about. Though the burning was gone, it would've significantly slowed the rate of blood loss.

He was dying. Fact. His girlfriend had been the murderer, and had laughed while she did it. He no longer cared, to be honest. But yeah, dying. A new experience, which is never good. It hurt, it was invasive, it had ruined his school uniform. First love bites.

Issei had never really accomplished anything in life. He had never been good at sports, never been good at academics, never joined any clubs, never volunteered at special events, never learned to cook or play an instrument, never been popular or fallen in love, but he didn't regret it. He had one regret, and that was his family.

He wished he'd said goodbye before he left the house that morning.

Ba'dum. Ba'dum.

Ah. Hello, old friend.

...ba'dum...ba'dum...

Despite its long absence, the sound was loud, strong.

….ba'dum...ba'dum...

It was slowing down.

…..ba'dum...ba'dum...

All this time Issei had been lying on his back, staring vacantly at the night sky. Since he lived in the city, the bright lights obscured most of the stars. Now, even the trees and buildings in his peripheral vision had disappeared. He knew it was the end.

…...ba'dum...ba'dum...

He imagined his mother, cooking at home. His friends, laughing at school. His girlfriend, when they had first met. He felt himself start to cry.

…...ba'dum...ba'dum...

I'm so scared.

…...ba'dum...ba'dum...

I'm so alone.

…...ba'dum...ba-

And then it was over.

The sad form lay in the puddle, which was starting to turn from red to brown. Its hair and clothes ruffled in the cool wind, steam rose like a departing spirit from its gaping chest and its body heat plummeted to the level of the chilly night air.

There was no sound. Every bird and every beast had left for parts unknown, fleeing in instinctive terror from the corpse of Issei Hyodou, the man who should have been a hero.

And the soul of a hero...

That was a prize worth collecting in person.

A shadow began to froth across the ground. The street lamps began to flicker off, one by one, as the darkness boiled upwards. The black tendrils coiled slowly, overlapping one another intimately, as a Grim figure rose up.

His skin was pale, bloodless, and wrapped tightly over bulging muscles. His lower body and arms were shielded by massive plates of rusty grey armor. Right arm to the elbow. Left arm to the shoulder. The torso was left bare, revealing scars innumerable, and a large azure gem glowed sadly from where it was embedded in his right pectoral. His hair hung to his shoulders, lank and oily and black. His face was covered by a near blank bone mask; it reminded one of a skull, though without the cheery grin. The only openings on the ghostly veil were for the eyes, from which two points of glowing red shone forth. In his hand a scythe, huge, chipped and unimaginably sharp.

"Wake up, deadman."

The corpse did not move, did not breath. Its heart did not beat, for it never would again.

"...wasn't I supposed to be dead?"

"You are. An experience, ironically, that I am unfamiliar with."

"Ah," Issei was dead, but he wasn't stupid. "You must be Death."

"Correct," whispered the Grim figure. "Old age, predation, malnutrition, disease, suicide, murder. I am all these and more."

"I see," murmured Issei. "So this is the end."

"I am afraid so."

For a while there was silence. Death and dead were still, their thoughts of a world beyond our own. "Why?"

He understood. "Must there be a reason?"

"No, I suppose not." sighed Issei. Death caught him by surprise, then.

"She did not kill you because of who you were, or because of any thing you had done. She killed you because of what you could have been, what you could have done."

"I was a nobody."

"Yes, which was why she dealt with you then, in case you became a threat. You were born to be a hero, deathling. A leader, a savior, a force which shaped the world, shaped history and shaped the people around you. You were to do great things..." Death fell to a whisper, a cold hiss on the wind. "So great that even I could not ignore you."

"Which is why I would strike a bargain with you, deadman."

For the first time since their conversation started, the corpse moved. Issei rolled himself over onto his stomach, then painfully pushed himself onto his knees. He knelt there, panting, blood soaked into his back and now his front also, a hole running through his chest. "I'm listening."

"Change is coming," Death whispered. "Change so swift and so great that worlds will be swept away by its coming. Gods and demons shall rise and fall, even I am not certain I shall survive the onslaught. Which is why I find myself in need of some insurance. A weapon." Issei could see, partially obscured by his hair, those red eyes piercing into his soul. "A champion."

"Become my instrument, deathling. Become my messenger, and everything you desire shall be yours. Life. Power. Vengeance. Anything. All I ask in return is your loyalty. Your loyalty, and your allegiance."

The night was silent. Issei fought his way to his feet. Slowly. Painfully. His mouth twisted into a humorless, sardonic smirk.

To an offer like that, there could be only one answer.

"Go fuck yourself."

Death stopped cold. "What?"

"Power? Revenge? Life?" laughed Issei bitterly. "As if I need any of that. I only want one of those things, and something tells me you can't give it to me."

"How dare you!" growled the Reaper. "Think of what you're turning down!"

"I know exactly what I'm turning down," Issei shot back. "Loyalty? Allegiance? You want my obedience. You want my servitude. You want to me to murder in your name, that's all." In his mind's eye, he saw her. Her eyes, her hair, her laugh as she tore his life away. He would never be like her. Never.

"You ignorant flesh bag!" snarled the apparition. "Have you no idea of who you're dealing with? I am Death, the Grim Reaper, Fourth and Mightiest of the Horsemen! You think you can insult me in such a manner, when I have given you an offer no mortal has been given before! You! An insignificant speck, who would have gone unnoticed and unmissed, were it not for I. Who do you think you are? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE! YOU ARE NOTHING, YOU HEAR ME! NOTH-"

He was interrupted by a fist colliding with his face, so hard both mask and hand were shattered.

"Don't take rejection well, do you?"

Issei kicked him twice, once in the groin and once in the knee, already running as he toppled. The park was surrounded by a high wall, which he vaulted over at high speed, straight into a road thick with traffic. More than one car hit him, leaving streaks of his remaining blood across their windscreens, but he barely slowed. On the other side he did a standing jump, grabbing onto the edge of a handy fire escape and flipping himself up. He glanced over his shoulder.

Death crashed through the wall, weapon a blur in front of him. The totaled vehicles left in Issei's wake were shredded like cottage cheese, diced into two, four, eight, into nothing at all. Issei scrambled up the side of the fire escape, ignoring the stairs for the sake of speed. The Grim Reaper followed, the escape crumpling like matchwood as he bulled through, fists grabbing huge chunks of masonry as he dragged himself upwards through upper body strength alone.

Issei vaulted onto the rooftop. He was strong, he was fast, and he was agile for no apparent reason, but he couldn't stop to wonder why because Death was hot on his heels. Straight ahead was a river, forded by a huge metal bridge. A long cable connected the bridge with the roof he stood on, and that was what he went for. He took it at a running jump, the Reaper's scythe flying so hard and so close that he felt the wind pressure cut at his back. Instead it severed the cable, just before Issei grabbed on.

The deadman held on for dear life as the cord swung an incredible distance, miraculously failing to slam him into the side of the bridge. It was a moot point, however, as he was flung screaming into the path of an oncoming lorry.

Death stood at the building's edge, glaring balefully as the truck jackknifed. A long, deep crack snaked across his mask from where Issei's fist hit home. "Minions..." he rumbled. Red mist breathed about his ankles and materialized into slavering dog-like demons. Their heads, torsos and limbs were hideously misshapen and distorted, and their saliva hissed on the concrete. "Take him down."

The pack tore into action, baying for the deadman's blood. Issei was only just creaking to his feet, dizzy from the impact, as they caught up. As his vision steadied he was already surrounded, the Minions mounted upon crashed cars, crawling across the bridge supports or scraping along the ground.

The pack leader crept forward. It was a huge specimen, the pale orange skin of its kindred replaced by a sickly green, and a coat of lethal spikes burst from between its shoulder blades. It lunged and he dodged, throwing himself out the way in a monumental leap to safety. Pulling itself out of the crater its impact had caused, the creature balanced itself on its smaller hind legs and began to swipe wildly with its huge forelimbs. Issei dodged each blow cleanly, back-stepping smoothly and trying to use as little movement as possible. Eventually he saw his opening and jumped straight over the Minion's head, higher than he had ever jumped before.

He landed messily, rolling to a halt near one of the many vehicles that had been caught in the mayhem. A car, the door torn off and a fat white man lying dead in the driver's seat. He was probably American, because strapped to his leg was the longest and broadest combat knife Issei had ever seen. He had barely torn it out of its sheath before his enemy was on him, spear-tackling him in the abdomen and sending him skidding across the ground. The monster snarled, viciously trying to bite his head off.

Big mistake. It should've used it's claws.

Issei drew the knife back and slammed it deep into the Minion's shoulder, then yanked it out and slashed the wrist holding his right shoulder in place. His right arm now free he attacked furiously, stabbing once in the chest and once in the throat. The creature reared back and he took his chance, using both hands to ram the weapon into the center of the monster's face.

As he pulled the weapon free his enemy pulled back and roared, a huge spout of blood gushed from the wound and Issei found himself buried beneath its overpowering bulk. He frantically kicked the weight off, desperate to escape, to survive. A futile hope, considering he was already dead.

And then, impossibly, the Minion stood up. It was groggy, weak, and with the same cold clarity he had had since life had abandoned him, he showed no mercy.

Grabbing its arm he began to pull, placing his foot against its shoulder for leverage. The monster squealed in agony and the tendons gave way, the limb separating with a snap. Issei stumbled backwards, disoriented for brief moment. And then he jumped, bringing the severed limb down like a gory club and crushing the monster beneath its weight.

Exactly what it was that happened next, Issei couldn't be sure. What he saw was the severed arm turn grey, dissolve into tentacles of moving bio-matter and assimilate into his body, the feeling it caused one of revolting invasion. His body, already beginning to decay, began to repair itself at the sudden increase in biomass. The broken hand, the shredded back, the results of being caught in eight consecutive car crashes in the course of ten minutes. All of it closed up and disappeared, though unfortunately the hole in his chest remained where it was.

But that wasn't all. His flesh began to glow and flicker, as though unsure of its own shape. Not like a mirage, or the shimmer on a hot day. It literally, physically flickered, the disturbance surging across his body, focusing on his arms until-

'THOOM'

The change was so sudden it caused a small sonic boom, the air forced backwards by the explosive transformation. Issei's arms, from wrists to shoulders, bulged with skinless muscle. The color was black streaked with red, and various protrusions, like tubes, ridges or spines showed where the synthesis of man and monster was incomplete. Each hand was now triple the size of his head, and were each adorned with a terrifying set of claws. Three fingers and a thumb each, they lacked bones or joints but rather extended into claws straight from the knuckle-bones, long, curved, serrated and sharp. Weapons, made for killing. For battle.

Issei targeted the Minion closest to him and lunged with an animal roar, tearing it to ribbons with the first strike.

Death watched darkly as the deadman slaughtered the remaining demons. This. Was. Not. Good. "Despair!" he barked, and Despair answered. And lo, he rode upon a pale horse.

As Despair carried his master to the battlefield, Issei finished the last of the Minions. With a swipe of his new claws its arm went flying into the air, and as it stared stupidly at the stump he leapt up, planted his feet on its shoulder and decapitated it with a double swipe. At this point he noticed the horse, huge and powerful, its pale flesh rotting and decorated with bone armor. Its hooves, its mane and its eyes all glowed with ghastly green fire, and on its back rode Death, his scythe held at the ready.

Without hesitation, but not without fear, Issei charged. His inferior body weight meant his flying tackle was unable to knock the horse down, but it was not without effect. As Issei clung like a monkey to the horse's chest it reared and neighed, leaving Death unable to attack for fear of killing his mount. The poor creature screamed as the claw plunged into its neck, sending its master flying for the first time since time began. As the huge creature fell Issei stabbed a second time, pinning its throat to the concrete. After a few moments, the legs stopped kicking.

Death and deadman rose to their feet, each glaring steadily at the other. Issei briefly considered running, but the other being charged before he got the chance. Issei knew the incredible weapon in Death's hand would cut through him like a hot knife through butter, so trying to take him on in a head to head clash would be the equivalent of suicide. Instead he backhanded with his right claw, striking the flat of the blade and redirecting its course, allowing it to embed harmlessly into the ground. His left moving in the same direction at the same time, Issei used the momentum to gash into Death's forearm, digging into it and completely cutting it off. His claws morphing back into human arms in a blur of red and black, Issei grabbed the haft of the scythe and yanked it out of the ground, bringing it round in a crushing arc-

-only for Death for to grab it, blade first, with his remaining hand. With a flick of his wrist, the ungodly metal snapped. Issei staggered backwards, jaw swinging. "That... That's not fair!"

Death grabbed him by the throat and lifted him clear off the ground. "The world is unfair, boy!" Death's severed right arm lifted of the ground, smoothly re-attaching itself to its owner. "You led me a merry chase, deathling, but it looks like this is the end."

"The end?" smirked Issei. He was glad he no longer needed to breath, or else Death would be destroying his windpipe. "Not quite."

"Oh?"

"Of course. I have yet to use my secret weapon, which like all good secret weapons-" Issei threw his head back dramatically. "Comes from above!"

Death glanced upwards quickly, and Issei took his chance. Morphing his left hand, one long claw dug into Death's throat and exited through the crown of his skull. His grip loosened and Issei's legs came up, using Death's chest as a springboard-

-and inadvertently flinging himself off the side of the bridge. Death ran to the edge, his wounds already healed, but it was too late.

He was gone.

Death stood at the edge, eyes glowing behind his crumbling mask.

He had strength, speed, reflexes and agility several times what he had when he was alive.

Death didn't care.

His survival instinct was so strong, he could fight on par with entire packs of demons.

Death didn't care.

He was capable of assimilating other beings at a genetic level, taking on their strength, abilities and physical characteristics.

Death didn't care.

For Death was drawn to life like a moth to a flame. One who was already dead on the other hand...

This man...

This boy...

Had outrun Death.

"This..." He murmured, mask finally falling away to reveal the visage beneath. "Has never happened before."