Fresh Blood (Code Vein Male Reader)

Mountaintop Truth (ß)

Pulling a loose string from its clothes all of the pins in the many, many grenades strapped to its body came loose, all the levers falling at its feet and all the red lights now blinking alarmingly fast.

With a war cry that would make even Black Ops Zombies very proud, the lost outstretches its arms and rushes the three now very panicking men before lunging at one of them.

Acting as fast as they could, Louis, (Y/N) and Yakumo dodge to the sides and let the suicidal lost pass by them. 'Splosion man manages to grab hold of another lost, one that was sneaking up behind the group, and locks its arms around it without realizing it wasn't any of the explorers.

Louis: RUN!

Using a secret and ancient technique the three men dive behind the wrecked trucks, putting decent distance and a solid layer of debris between them and the massive fireball and shockwave generated by the countless grenades.

The mountain shakes with the explosion, which resulted in a shower of blood, haze and guts along with the snow shaken off of its resting place, now falling gently as if to contrast the recent violence.

(Y/N): How did... a single guy... get so many explosives?

Yakumo: The lost find all sorts of weapons out here. But  that was way too much

Louis: I don't think we have time to think about it. Two more, dead ahead!

Louis points his blade at two more lost coming down a narrow path, presumably the path they need to go up to reach their destination. As the two revenants take off to deal with the lost (Y/N) walks away from the mountain edge, good practice for anyone that can die, and leans his sword on the rocky wall. He enjoys the show while blowing some hot air on his hands to stave off the growing numbness.

The group had managed to put together quite the warm clothes for him, but the gloves were just a bit too thin for his comfort and the pockets in a blood veil aren't good for warming hands. But that didn't really matter at all, he was glad to have something to do that didn't scare the life out of him.

Well... at least scared him less than facing his life problems.

While (Y/N) was busy being a slob and not helping at all, the door of the ruined truck right beside him flies off straight down the cliff. Out of the wreck came another lost, armed with ye old sword and board and well within melee distance to the freezing breathless human.

After a great half second staring at what could be certain death (Y/N) finally reacts, reaching down at his sword and already swinging it in a wide arc at the lost's neck. The newly awoken creature was unnaturally swift and raised its shield to block, the strike too weak to overpower the lost but still strong enough to carve out a chunk of the worn out shield.

In a moment of tactical brilliance the lost twists its cracked shield and tosses it aside, the movement almost flinging the sword off of (Y/N)'s hands. Struggling with the lack of feeling on his hands, (Y/N) tries his best to regain his grip and raises his blade just in time to sloppily block an incoming slash.

The sheer strength of the superhuman being was too much for (Y/N)'s mortal arms and the black blade flies out of his grip and onto the ground. He usually parries attacks instead of blocking since he can't compete with raw power, but with his form broken he didn't manage to adjust himself this time.

His eyes momentarily flicking to his weapon for a second and then back to the lost, (Y/N) rolls to the side to avoid another attack, his body sliding a bit on the snow before coming to a stop.

Looking up from his kneeling position (Y/N) finds the lost already reaching him, rusty sword risen and ready to split his head open. There wasn't enough time to reach back and level his bayonet, so mustering all of his breath he uses his ultimate technique...