Post by Vice Ysal on Apr 8, 2014 22:22:17 GMT -5
A broken body was for the inable and weak, it was for those who could no longer stand and accepted their defeat. Such a pathetic existence didn’t merit a long life within this realm. Yet here he was, he who didn’t accept defeat and stood up against all odds, walking along the deep chasm of the Devil as every step was an impossible task and every breath harder than the last. He could feel his energy deteriorating at an astounding rate, and he was beginning to lose his sense of self. All his body knew was that it needed to keep going, that it needed to become stronger than ever. Even if the mind had long since forgotten what it needed to do, the physical incarnation of it would continue to survive by whatever means necessary. A cold focus, honed to a edge, so long as the broken body clung to it then maybe there was a chance for redemption.
The blank eyes stared off into space, his neck moving around out of habit as if to look at where he was going. Nothing registered anymore but it did so nonetheless. He could no longer see the hard packed dirt, or the stalagmites that threatened to impale him, or even the shadows that had been lingering around and simply watching his every move. He was no longer a threat like he had used to be, simply a waste of space in his current condition so much so that not even the weakest of these mindless creatures bothered with him. That was fine, his broken leg couldn’t do much nor could his unresponsive arm do anything else. Even his spirit energy was so laughably low that any of the people he had watched over could beat him without any effort on their part.
It was sickening, and slowly his anger and frustration began to build up. The glazed look in his eyes, at a snail’s pace, started to disappear. His movements becoming stronger in their presence rather than their actuality, and slowly but surely his body’s pace towards the goal he had found increased. Pain continued to wreck him but he persevered. In the back of his head, in the barely active part of his mind that was still trying to regain control, paranoia began to increase as the presence of those things continued to evolve. He didn’t know exactly what but his mind redoubled its efforts to take control over the wayward body once more.
The normally quiet emperor, the demon king whose face was usually devoid of any emotion was morphed into a cruel grin. The excited flapping of his wings and the sudden appearance of it into the world shocked his mental self. Alone, in the vastness of that space, the mental him could then hear the rattling of chains and the roars that Arondight would normally fend away. In the physical realm, the persona appeared above its user and with almost loving hands did it carry the broken body across the distance. Avoiding any and all confrontations possible before arriving at a lonely clearing. The clearing was wide enough that one could possible make use of it as some form of shelter that could house 5 entire families. Unfortunately for the scenario, a massive crater could be discovered in the middle, and within it a pool of black ichor.
Slowly, but surely, Arondight placed him right in front of it. Somehow the body had managed to gain enough strength to stand up. Pathetic in posture but he still stood. And with another mighty flap of his wings, the persona floated over to the middle of the pool. His wings, no matter how strong they flapped, did not cause a ripple in the stagnant waters. Turning around, Arondight opened his arms as if to call over his host. And as he did so, the persona began to morph. Shrinking, transforming, to the point that it looked like it was slowly devolving into its previous state. From where the winged demon was, now stood the armoured knight. The black miasma around it thicker than ever as its armour soon began to fall apart to show case just who was within it.
One by one, the metal plates revealed clothing. And as the pieces dropped into the pool of darkness beneath its feet, he could finally see. Jet black hair that reached till the shoulders, wearing a black jacket, and sporting the most malignant red eyes.
“Tell me.”
His voice echoed.
“Must we still do this?”
And in that moment, electric yellow challenged the broken red.