Sitting at the edge of the abandoned cliff, Death stares into the setting sun, feeling wrongly punished and angry. Master had punished her with a life in the two realms. The only twist is that it's a vampire's body. And vampires live for a long time.

Being punished for the mistakes that are not yours hurts. So, what if it's Death? What if it's one of the two most powerful being that everyone is unknown to? It hurts, it hurts a lot. And do you know what hurts more?

The knowledge of the unfairness that took place when Death acquired the body which wasn't, rightfully, its, hurts more than being wrongly punished. Knowing that the body it has, was of the woman who made Death actually feel something for the first time. Someone who didn't deserve the atrocities of fate and world. Someone who deserved to be loved and respected, not killed by some worthless demons.

It had been nineteen years. Still, Death could clearly remember the feeling of her life source slipping through its control. Even though, Death knew it should not meddle with the fate, it can't hold back.

And, now, Death was sitting on this cliff, reminiscing about the lost soul of the woman and the half of demon population it had killed after that.

The day when Alice died, was the same day when Death promised her, it will never let her family suffer. It will try to keep the realms peaceful so that no other family loses a family member, no kid loses its mother and mostly no other hopeless being loses its hope. It was the promise it had to keep, sometimes even, by killing its own people, the demons, who considered Death as their god. Although Death's believers had decreased after its fiasco of killing so many demons, Death didn't want to ask for appreciation for its promise. 

The sun had now settled and the moon was shining. Now is not the time to remember the dead. Now, is the time to keep its promise. It had a tip that a demon was trying to get away with a stolen book of great importance from Eidolon. Even though, Death didn't know how the demon got his hands on the book, but when had it mattered. What matters is that he was not going away with it.