Darker Than Black

Chapter One • It Has Begun

Vann Vernard I

The young lad never asked for anything from anyone. He depended on himself. He was a one-man army and it couldn't be changed even if he wanted it to. All around people despised him, but that was just because they were not like him. Because they didn't understand him. People despise things they don't understand.

Most times he went on team missions somewhere, somehow, one of them would always die though that was normal in this era of mankind. A few survived the missions he went on. They lived to tell the tale of how he was evil. How he had his teammates killed in combat while he saved his own ass. Of course, those were only rumors. Vann wanted his comrades to survive so that was only part of the reason why he worked alone.

At present, he was towering over the body of a young foe he had rendered unconscious with the flat of his sword. A sword that was very unique, one that was categorized as a berserker's blade. A claymore for example. This sword,  however, was one-sided and had a pointy tip. The sword had additional parts that used new generation technology to cut the weight of it but only for specific users. He could hold the sword in one hand and it'd feel as light as a feather. That and he could make it temporarily disappear by placing it in an alternate space created by said technology. Most of this tech, however, was not in the sword itself, but in a small part of the elbow to finger length gauntlets on both arms, ones that were irremovable. It was these gauntlets that allowed the weight of his sword to be cut. The gauntlets were black and covered with tribal blue markings. A spell was also placed on it to cleans the skin underneath.

Standing there for so long could mean that if his foe awakened later he would alert the others. After all, this was a covert operation.

With that thought in mind, Vann brought his blade down ending his opponent. The brave warrior who challenged Vann dissipated in ashes instead of bleeding out. One would question why that happened.

"On to the next one," Vann muttered as he dashed forward. The sword became encased in bright light which dissipated into smaller lights that seemingly drifted off into his gauntlets. As he ran, his silver hair, a trademark of his family, blew wildly around his face and due to its length making him frustratingly wipe his face all the time. Of all his vibrant ruby red eyes, also a trademark of his family, petrified many who saw his break-in. They knew who he was.

He was Vann Milakus Vernard, he who was the second survivor of the Vernard family that was slaughtered. Vann halted in his run as he came up to a large steel door. Approaching it curiously, he gazed at it in realization at the now stunning fact. He cocked a surprised brow.

"There's no handle," he muttered. "Why isn't there a handle?"

He brought his hand up and gazed at the middle finger of his left hand.

"I didn't bring my ring," he muttered. And not any ordinary ring either, he added in thought. He moved around swiping his hand through the air and pressing against the wall to see if there was some secret lever or secret panel that opened the door. Of course, there was none. Life was never that easy.

The blue patterns on his gauntlets began to glow vibrantly and it released a frenzy of tiny white lights that immediately began to reshape itself in his hands. When it took the appropriate shape of his sword the light dimmed down, bringing the sword into view.

"Well, there goes covert. I've never made it this far so I am quite unprepared for this," Vann sighed. He swung his sword cutting through the steel noisily. He repeated the action until there were several dozens of intersecting slashes through the metal. Sticking the sword into the ground, he brought his leg up and kicked the center of the intersecting slashes, creating a large gap big enough for him to slip through.