Vash was terrified.
Tears streamed down his dirt-stained face as he curled under the shadow of a crooked tree.
"I don't want to be alone… Aunt… Maria… someone… please…"
It was ironic, wasn't it?
He always chose to be alone. He avoided everyone. But now, when there was no one left—
He realized just how crushing loneliness truly was.
The world around him looked eerily like Earth.
A bright sun. Open skies. A light breeze.
But it wasn't home. It was foreign… and terrifying.
He was starving.
His throat burned from screaming.
His legs had no strength.
The crying, the fear, the panic—had drained everything from him.
He collapsed beside a dark, leafless tree, letting its crooked branches shield him from the heat.
His head throbbed. His lips were dry.
He couldn't even look for water, let alone move.
And slowly… the world faded.
Then, in the depth of silence—
A voice exploded in his head.
"VAAAAAAASHHHHHHHH!!"
It wasn't soft. It wasn't kind.
It was furious. Terrified.
Almost… betrayed.
Vash's eyes snapped open. He sat up, panting, drenched in sweat.
"W-What was that? Who screamed…?"
Before he could gather his thoughts, he saw torchlight approaching.
Two armored soldiers appeared, swords at their sides, walking toward him. Behind them, on horseback, was a royal woman—dressed in white, elegant, and cold.
Her long, silver hair shimmered in the moonlight. She looked around twenty… but her gaze was ancient.
Was this… help?
Vash, desperate, rushed forward and dropped to his knees.
"S-Sir… please… help me," he cried, broken.
The soldiers glanced at each other.
"Who are you?" one asked. "What are you doing here at this hour?"
"I… I don't know. I don't even belong here. Please—just help me go back home…"
The royal woman stared down at him.
Then… she laughed and said
" Stop making jokes Commoner "
It was a sharp, cruel laugh—almost theatrical. The soldiers joined her, mocking him like hyenas.
Vash's heart pounded. Confusion turned to anger.
"Why won't you believe me?! Why am I here?! What did I even do?!"
He stood up, trembling, voice raised.
The laughter stopped.
Her smile vanished.
She slowly dismounted from her horse, unsheathing her sword—a shimmering steel blade that looked like a beautiful work of art.
SHHHINK.
And with a sudden slash—
She cut into his eyes.
"AHHHHH!! I CAN'T SEE!! WHY?! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS?!"
Vash dropped to the ground, hands over his face. Warm blood spilled between his fingers.
The pain was unbearable.
"You begged on your knees, and I acknowledged you," the woman said calmly.
"But then you stood. You looked at me. You spoke to me like an equal."
"You are a filthy, ugly peasant. I am Princess Elireth of the Third Crown. You will remember that… if you live long enough to remember anything."
She turned to her guards.
"Slice off his head."
"No—NO! Please!" Vash screamed, blindly stumbling backward. "Why is this happening?! What did I do?! I don't want to die again! Please—PLEASE!"
But he couldn't see. He tripped and fell.
One of the soldiers grabbed him by the hair, lifting his head up like trash.
"AHHH! No—don't—PLEASE!"
The blade came down.
His head hit the ground.
It rolled… right back to the base of the dark tree where he first cried for help.
And just like that…
Vash died again.
No hero's journey.
No powers.
No purpose.
Just another brutal death in a world that didn't care and won't"