Disclaimer: I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal
Title: Last One
Characters: Mizael
Word Count: 500||Status: One-shot
Genre: Drama, Angst||Rated: PG-13
Challenges: Diversity Writing Challenge, section A82, write about losing something; Zexal Flash Bingo, prompt #017, graveyard; One Character Boot Camp, #11, hollow
Notes: This takes place in a minor AU where past life!Mizael survived the slaughter of his village. At least for now... Don Thousand won't let him escape forever, of course.
Summary: Mizael survived the loss of his village. Or at least he's breathing. Now he lives for one thing alone: revenge.

His muscles almost couldn't hold him up anymore. He made them anyway, just as he had during the battle. He had more wounds than he could even count and he had no idea of how he even kept breathing. Every movement of air in and out of him hurt, but he had too much to do.

He had many things to do, but one at a time.

Mizael stood on the edge of what had been a battlefield and was now a graveyard. Before it had been a battlefield, however, it had been a village: his village. The one that he'd spent most of his adult life protecting along with Jinlong.

Behind him, the great dragon stood, as wounded as he was, but as determined to cling to life, if not more so. They'd made a pledge together, one that would keep them alive no matter what. They would find the one who sent the army here and they would destroy whoever it was, until no memory of them remained in the world.

Just as that army had done to their home. The scales would be balanced.

"That's all of them," he murmured, his voice dry and croaking. He hadn't touched food or water since he'd begun to prepare them all for burial. He whispered each name to himself as he did so, remembering so many wonderful moments with them.

No more of those. Only empty days, much like a time he tried not to think about, stretched out before him.

Jinlong moved his head a little, enough so that Mizael would be more aware of his presence. "You need to rest before we go."

He knew that. But he didn't want to. He knew what would come once he closed his eyes: an endless nightmare of screams, blood, weapons, and betrayal. He wasn't in any hurry to get started on that.

Jinlong said nothing else but his disapproval of how Mizael remained there, eyes on the churned up earth before him, remained clear. Mizael wished he could smile at that. He wished many things but had none of them.

Why? That one word rang over in his mind. He'd never had a chance to ask those who led the army why they'd been sent here and he didn't think they would have answered if he had. In the heat of battle, all he'd been able to gather was that their master wished this place ruined and the dragon and dragon tamer taken.

They had succeeded in half of that. Mizael would not be taken, but if they wanted him, then they would get what they wanted.

And they would spend the rest of their very short lives regretting that they had him or had even heard of him.

Slowly he plunged his sword into the ground before him and spoke. "I'll come back, when it's over." He didn't know what else to say, before he moved toward Jinlong. They had a long way to go. Best to get started.

The End

Note: Thank you for reading and I hope that you enjoyed the story. Please let me know what you thought of it if at all possible.