Setting
INK
At the limits of a mass grave, a figure stood, malicious eyes gazing upon the wreckage. Wing City, the city that had repelled him for so long out of the sheer energy it generated, lay in ruins. That ever-present sense of life and joy that had previously radiated from it seemed gone, impeding his progress no more. The hovering clouds threatened of rain, and he would welcome it. This city was an obstacle he would gladly seal off in a tomb of ice.
And yet, something stirred within. He should have felt joy, at least a sense of weary relief, but he did not. He felt... rage? Hatred? This was odd: evil tough he was, those two sensations he did not often feel, for little in this world could stir him toward it. This was a bad sign; since the fool's return to Metro, he, Chrono, had felt next to no stirring of him, yet now he did.
It happened in the blink of an eye. Simultaneous to the first spatters of rain hitting the ground, an indescribable flash of, for lack of a better word, darkness occurred, coupled with an effect similar to a shockwave, blasting out for miles around, sifting the wreckage, stirring the lake. Its epicenter seemed to be Chrono himself, yet it was not entirely. It was just in front of Chrono, directly between himself and another man -- terribly long, unkempt ice blue hair, a set of matching eyes. A build like a sprinter that spoke of an unearthly speed. Perhaps most prominent was the massive sword on his back; its hilt rose to a height just an inch above his head, and the blade was nearly touching the ground, spanning all of his tremendous seven-foot height.
Rain had broken free.
Yet, he was not the same Rain as before. There were a few changes to his physical appearance -- his skin had darkened to a healthy tan -- far different than the bloodless pale he'd had before. His ears had an elongated, pointed look to them. His eyes seemed to lack pupils -- or perhaps that ice-blue which had been taken for irises were actually what he saw through. The tattoo on his left arm which he'd known so well was extended, the serpentine dragon now running from left knuckle up his arm, presumably across his shoulders, and down his right.
Yet there was more to it than that. He seemed stronger, possessed of a higher vitality than before. He was no longer shiftless, apathetic; a fire had been lit within him. Was it the destruction of the city? Had that inherent goodness of the place actually been keeping Rain himself content, and thus lacking the passion to act? It was definitely possible. Now was not the time for such ponderings, for a fight was in the air and they both felt it.
Chrono, wordlessly, spread his massive leathery wings, taking flight into the now pouring rain. He circled once, twice, looking for an in that would allow him to descend on Rain, lashing, tearing. There was not one. Rain followed his movements effortlessly, his massive frame graceful in its movements. He was not content to merely hold his ground, it seemed, for in a heartbeat's span, he had leapt, massive blade spinning into a stabbing position. Chrono tried once for a temporal rift, a slight disturbance in time, yet found his efforts ended, his concentration broken by the pelting of a million little bits of rain-turned-ice, most seeking his less-protected areas -- eyes and ears foremost.
And in that instant, it was over. The terrific blade plunged into the beast's chest, driving him downward into the mud below. The blade passed nearly halfway through, its tip burying in the ground, pinning the demon in place. It writhed for a moment and Rain watched on, his eyes full of righteous hate. As the beast gave a final, desperately weak cry, Rain spoke for the first time, pulling his blade from the ground and the creature's spirit with it.
"Ye've been exorcised, demon."
And yet, something stirred within. He should have felt joy, at least a sense of weary relief, but he did not. He felt... rage? Hatred? This was odd: evil tough he was, those two sensations he did not often feel, for little in this world could stir him toward it. This was a bad sign; since the fool's return to Metro, he, Chrono, had felt next to no stirring of him, yet now he did.
It happened in the blink of an eye. Simultaneous to the first spatters of rain hitting the ground, an indescribable flash of, for lack of a better word, darkness occurred, coupled with an effect similar to a shockwave, blasting out for miles around, sifting the wreckage, stirring the lake. Its epicenter seemed to be Chrono himself, yet it was not entirely. It was just in front of Chrono, directly between himself and another man -- terribly long, unkempt ice blue hair, a set of matching eyes. A build like a sprinter that spoke of an unearthly speed. Perhaps most prominent was the massive sword on his back; its hilt rose to a height just an inch above his head, and the blade was nearly touching the ground, spanning all of his tremendous seven-foot height.
Rain had broken free.
Yet, he was not the same Rain as before. There were a few changes to his physical appearance -- his skin had darkened to a healthy tan -- far different than the bloodless pale he'd had before. His ears had an elongated, pointed look to them. His eyes seemed to lack pupils -- or perhaps that ice-blue which had been taken for irises were actually what he saw through. The tattoo on his left arm which he'd known so well was extended, the serpentine dragon now running from left knuckle up his arm, presumably across his shoulders, and down his right.
Yet there was more to it than that. He seemed stronger, possessed of a higher vitality than before. He was no longer shiftless, apathetic; a fire had been lit within him. Was it the destruction of the city? Had that inherent goodness of the place actually been keeping Rain himself content, and thus lacking the passion to act? It was definitely possible. Now was not the time for such ponderings, for a fight was in the air and they both felt it.
Chrono, wordlessly, spread his massive leathery wings, taking flight into the now pouring rain. He circled once, twice, looking for an in that would allow him to descend on Rain, lashing, tearing. There was not one. Rain followed his movements effortlessly, his massive frame graceful in its movements. He was not content to merely hold his ground, it seemed, for in a heartbeat's span, he had leapt, massive blade spinning into a stabbing position. Chrono tried once for a temporal rift, a slight disturbance in time, yet found his efforts ended, his concentration broken by the pelting of a million little bits of rain-turned-ice, most seeking his less-protected areas -- eyes and ears foremost.
And in that instant, it was over. The terrific blade plunged into the beast's chest, driving him downward into the mud below. The blade passed nearly halfway through, its tip burying in the ground, pinning the demon in place. It writhed for a moment and Rain watched on, his eyes full of righteous hate. As the beast gave a final, desperately weak cry, Rain spoke for the first time, pulling his blade from the ground and the creature's spirit with it.
"Ye've been exorcised, demon."