A/N: Here we go. This is intended on being just a simple, few-chapter story as opposed to a long one. idk XD
The Chapter.
Footsteps thumping against the wet ground, the soil, were heard before they eventually stopped at the entrance of a cave. Those pursuing the one who belonged to the pair of footsteps hesitated as their eyes nervously gazed upon such a dark and dismal location, not to mention dangerous because of what exactly lied down there. However, it seems whoever had been leading this mob showed up.
"There's no need to hesitate, my friends! We can destroy that killer and not worry about the monsters now that I've brought runes and weapons from our town!"
The man then suddenly gave a signal by a wave of a hand beckoning forward and armored men brought forth a whole carriage of runes, armor, and weapons. There were twice the amount of everything so everyone was able to get something.
"Charge my men! We shall no longer cower in front of this serial killer but he shall cower in front of us!"
Then, the men roared in agreement as well as rose their weapons and/or hands high in the air before continuing their pursuit down the cave.
"Hah, hah, hah...dammit those fools are persistent!"
Long blond hair flowed from a blue-eyed individual as he ran down the cave; he was clad in only what appeared to be a turtle neck the color of wheat and blue pants. He was barefoot and he still carried the murder weapon with him in his cold, clamy hands: a broadsword. He had killed some monster along the way and he was suddenly glad he hadn't abandoned the heavy, yet burdensome weapon like he had thought of doing before.
At that very moment the long blond-haired man suddenly found his face in the ground and sword meters away from his hands as he lay on the ground, panting. Get up! This is no time to be resting!
Slowly, the man did get up with a sigh as he felt stupid for tripping over only a rock. Stupid dark caves.. You could never see where you were going!
Then, as soon as he reached for and grabbed his blood strained weapon, fire erupted spontaneously in the spot he had been laying in just a few moments ago and he cursed as his feet were once again back to their previous occupation: running. Runes?! Curse the damn runes! When I get my chance I'll slaughter these poor people and revel in their blood splattering all over the walls!
The killer turned a sharp corner and waited patiently behind it–surely then one of the angry townspeople and a few had come around just a few minutes after he himself had. So, with just one happy, good-timed swing–or swings–of the broadsword he lopped their heads off. Then he ran as icicles pelted the ground where he had been and behind him where he felt the icy cold fingers of death. Wind had also picked up in a place where there were no currents and so a few cuts here and there were now present on his back.
But he was getting ; he couldn't keep this charade up for any longer.
--
Blood everywhere, on the ground, the walls, the ceiling, on the victims, on his blade, and on himself. It had felt great, really; the family of ten were terrified out of their wits, just like his later 127 victims! Slaughtering the children in front of the adults in the family was the best part; the agony, the sorrow, the suffering!
"HeheheHAHAHAHAHA!"
Chaos was the best element in killings, he had thought.
Then the door of the entrance of the house banged open and the mass murderer turned his blood -soaked hair in motion with air as he jumped down the stairs and then cut the poor policemen/sheriff of the town in two. This was because he thought the man needed to be killed as well as the twelve mages after that..at least before he took his 'run' and before he knew it a mob of forty townspeople had gathered up supplies to hunt him down. Only 30 of them remained now but that was too many to take on all on once.
A sharp pain to his leg–from a spell?--and then he jumped over a whole reservoir of water that was present in the next room and instantly kicked a wall with his non-injured leg in hopes of rocks in the cavern collapsing before the open doorway. Such as was the case, but the blond found that half of the ceiling had also come down in that event he was trapped in this section of the dark cave. Under rocks.
"That wasn't very smart now was it...? Urgh."
The murderous blond then began to pull himself from out of under the rocks, which had completely damaged his right leg so now he was limping...and he couldn't his broadsword anywhere. Great.
"Hmm?"
The blond's blue eyes which were half-closed had seen some kind of altar, so he decided to pull himself closer to it to see exactly what the altar was of. He also saw that someone seemed to have written some kind of message, which read' Ere the time of order has chaos existed, trapped within this it is surely ensured chaos will have a hard time manifesting into physical form and dominating history again'. Was this supposed to be some kind of warning to not touch...whatever is lying here?
The individual brushed away the dust with his right hand, now ignoring the pain of his right leg, on the altar to see some kind of symbol...of a rune. Curse the runes! Curse them!
"These damn things must be all the range now!"
The blond-haired man exclaimed with anger and almost turned his back on it, just thinking it a simple drawing (elaborate) of a rune but he thought he saw it move. Then he put both his hands on the sides of the altar and then his world become silent, although he was very much still conscious. He could no longer hear the sound of people chapping away quickly at the temporary barrier he had formed by rocks hand their constant swearing that him an edge of every passing moment.
A hundred and eight stars–
Then he heard himself scream; in reality, where time was a cruel mistress the barrier had been broken through and a sword thrust through his back, blood splashing everywhere as though being the paint of a manic artist. The sword was pulled out and as the blond was on his knees and his right hand was still on the rune symbol as he began to fall over–
We accept.
Time rewound itself and stopped as the blond-haired man died and the demon was born.
A black shadow rose up.
"W-what, how could this be–"
One of the townspeople stammered as the blond-haired man's form which brought death stood more imposing over the congregation of thirty people and some even stumbled back as they felt his demonic presence. Although, the demon was still clad in such torn clothes the people felt like they were facing a black knight clad in black armor that reeked of the stench of blood torn from the innocents who were slain in his path. The one who stammered had his throat cut open, blood spewing from the wound as he dropped dead.
Some had already begun chanting but because of the demon's appearance they momentarily had been distracted so only a few cast elemental spells successfully that never reached their target as the demon had moved from his spot to slay them quickly with his twin blades. The ones who had run away experienced a similar fate and soon the blond cast an amused glance at the pile of bodies that would make a good pyre.
"They were getting too loud with their obnoxious laughter anyway,"
Yuber, the Chaosbringer.
A single name appeared where one had not existed for him before... and Yuber then decided that the name suited him just fine as he licked the blood from one of his blades. It was as he liked it; wet, fresh, and unresistable.