The Sins I carry as a Demon for loving a Saint.

The First Key

Romania

Period unknown

The Sparda Manor: The Hidden Library

Andrew P.O.V.

For how long have I been stuck here, this cursed library? When was the last time I drank, ate or slept? How many times did I flip through the same pages over and over? Reciting the same sentences only for them to lead to the same dead end, makes me question if what I'm trying to find is in any basic language at all!

(Andrew): Father enjoyed making puzzles but even this... this is just infuriating!

Punching the table in frustration I got up and headed straight to the sealed door.

(Andrew): Nothing makes sense, no matter how much I struggle to decipher this library it only leads me to the same dead ends and incomplete gibberish. There has to be something...a clue...I just can't let this be the end!

I approached the door, covered in slashes and dents from all the times I lost my mind trying to destroy it directly. Unsheathing the Yamato I let out my frustration on the only thing keeping me away from attaining what was rightfully mine. My father's power was right behind that door and no matter how much strength my next strike was increased by, I still was not strong enough.

(Andrew): I can't unsee it...the pyre, the flames, the cross, her tears, her smile...I can't unhear them... her cries, her prayer as she burned away in my arms...the people screaming, burning, their souls begging to be saved.

Releasing my devil form, my barrage of strikes continued relentlessly. Each slash cutting deeper, each strike chipping away at the impenetrable door. My bones cracked from the recoil, my muscles tearing apart, my ears bleeding from the ringing noise, and my hollow eyes could only see what I had lost, and what I had taken away in response.

(Andrew): Rouen...all those lives I took that day...I regret none of them...

Something was glowing from behind the door. A redness like blood shone through the cracks.

(Andrew): The light...I can see it...it's so close...my power.

Lifting Yamato above my head, my grip tightened, my feet steadied and my soul armed itself with a last promise.

(Andrew): As long as I have breath in my body...my fate...

I delivered the last strike with all my power, a strike so hard it could split the ground in two at a distance of 10km. As soon as Yamato's tough steel made contact with the impenetrable door an explosion emerged that launched me away on the other side of the corridor. Smashing into the wall I felt how every organ in my body smashed into each other, how my ribs penetrated my lungs, my brain at this point should just be a pile of smashed meat from all the times it bounced in my skull. Looking to my right I saw Yamato lying in a pool of blood. I tried to reach it only to be met with the sight of half of my arm blown away, all that remained was the broken bone attached with small bits of flesh to it. I looked at my left arm as it found itself in the same situation. I tried to get up only to be struck by agonizing pain. My legs were severely damaged, flesh slowly burning and melting off of my bones. My eyelids were heavy as my vision was aimed at the crimson light across the corridor. Reopening them I found myself in the middle of a field of wheat. My hands, my body, and all of my injuries healed as if they were never there. The wind gently beat across my face. The sun shone its warm rays over my skin. It was calming, it was peaceful, it was something I could not comprehend, something that can't be comprehended by senses, but only by one's soul.

(Andrew): What is this place?

I traveled through the mazy field wondering how I ended up here. Did the explosion kill me? Did I finally feel what it means to be truly dead? Did I come to terms with my grief? Suddenly I heard a voice ringing in the distance, it was her, it was Jeanne's voice! I ran through the field following her voice, thousands of thoughts wrestling in my mind, thousands of things I wanted to say to her. I wanted to see her, I wanted to fulfil my promise to her...I emerged from the field onto what seemed like the main road. There she was, behind her a place that seemed familiar, it was her hometown Domrémy. I was here once so long ago and yet I remember most of it perfectly. I remember this greenfield, the smell of mud and farm animals, the church's bells ringing for the Sunday prayer, the hill and the trees where we'd spent the entire day under their shades, and you Jeanne, standing behind them all, beautiful as the day I lost you.