-Rehabilitating a Child Soldier-

The Dark 16th

The sky burned an amber color as ash poured down from the sky. The cleanup hadn't begun yet, and all that was left was an ugly crater in the ground. The withers had been dealt with, fortunately, but their presence was still very clear. 

There were very few living plants in the surrounding area. It was a miracle that the L'man-tree even survived, especially with the damage brought down by Techno's wrath. It was almost like someone finding a broken toy, and smashing it some more, just for the hell of it.

But this wasn't a toy... this was people's whole lives. Completely obliterated by a handful of people who deemed it an eyesore.

The promise to rebuild loomed, but wasn't as reassuring as it sounded.

The dust and debris hung low, making the evening sun shimmer through a dark, cinnamon colored haze.

Now, the only sounds coming from the desolated landscape was the occasional crunch as someone trudged through the rubble, either to clean up or loot any remaining items that, by now, were threatening to be lost in the soot.

No one lost a cannon life in the fallout. But two lives had been lost today...

At the end of the day, were there really any winners? The territory had been won for a second time, but was it really worth it?

That was the question that had been running through one of the vulture's minds for a while. As a neutral party, he never really had any firm opinion on the war, but as the demon picked through the rubble, he really began to ponder how much of this was really worth it.

He did fight today... But he wasn't really fighting for anything. 

Chaos? Fun? Power? It doesn't matter in the end.

All that mattered to him was that Skeppy and Sapnap were okay. Their injuries weren't too severe, and they were on their way home right now. Leaving him alone in the abandoned battlefield.

Bad felt an uncomfortable wetness on his face, and slowly reached up to wipe a speck of blood from his cheek. As he ran his finger over the shallow cut, he felt satisfied as his skin weaved itself back together, regenerating faster than humanly possible.

That's the beauty of being a demon, isn't it?

He took one more look at the demolished scenery, watching the leaves of the L'man-tree sway in the light, evening breeze. After a moment, he nodded. To himself, and to the land in an accepting manner, before returning to what remained of the wooden path.

The path became stairs, which then cut through a hill. 

Just outside the territory, though, the dust was beginning to settle, but the fallout had the largest impact.

The single house was still standing, if you could even call the tiny shack a house. The rickety wooden doors were blown open, and the inside was a disaster, but how could it not be?

As he was walking by though, he was stopped in his tracks by a small, meek noise.

Bad paused for a moment, unsure about what he was hearing, if it was anything at all. One of his pointed ears flicked, focusing...

There it is.

Soft sniffles cut through the dead silence. The cries were coming from the excuse of a house.

Inside, the muffled sounds continued. The mess was hard to navigate, but for anyone up for the challenge, the source was quite clear.

In the corner of the building, curled up in a sad little ball, was a scrawny child, no more than ten years old. His golden blonde hair was stained with crimson blood, oozing from an injury on his forehead.