"The air was filled with smoke and blood."
Swords clashed in the midst of a lonely field of budding roses. White roses, previously, now red. Stinking of scorch and blood. The green grass that had yet not been blown away or burned down like paper made to kindle a small flame have lost their sweet green color and had succumb to dryness that surrounded them in the arid air around them.
"There have been many before you."
Many names, many titles.
Burning leaves, carried by the wind and sweet little tongues of bright orange flames tickled father and farther away from the splashes of energy and pure power that are them.
The mere pressure of their existence was more than well strong enough to push even the sturdies of men back like flies with a swipe of your hand. As if they were nothing more than a nuisance to be rid or a decency to be skipped before a table of children.
They brought death to all who stood around them.
"Men who rose from nothing, men who risked all that they loved —"
to lead by honor and virtue, and inspire the common man.
From the distance, wolves hungered with their angry eyes, desperate to feed on the spoils of war.
Angry wolves. Filled with hate and seething fury. For they have been the ones most hurt by this natural disaster.
No one cared for the wolves like they deed for the deer and elk. None would feed a mouth that they believe is destined to bite it so they were chased away, torn and hated for little reason…
Yet even simple animals like they were.
They were never alone. For, fear knew them the best, and they welcomed it in with open jaws, ready to bite it's throats out…
…Like family.
"Do you think you are different? Somehow... chosen?"
Who gave you the right to rule?
Their bodies were covered in dark, sticky mud and spoiled liters of blood, slowly hardening away and fusing themselves with the robes that theyused to carry oh so proudly around their necks.
Or was it dry tears?
None could tell you that, I'm afraid.
Tears and blood made no difference at this point. Brothers and sister that lay beneath them made that case true as the clouds in the sky.
… For there is a storm brewing on the horizon. And this time the storm of wolves will not fall on deaf ears.
"The light of civilization dims and gutters.
And if such precious time was left to hide your women, for your children to cry, even at the moment of your final defeat you would still take no comfort in oblivion.
For I am coming for you.
I RIDE WITH A MILLION WARRIORS!
I BRING THE END OF DAYS!.
I AM!
THE SCOURGE!
OF GOD!
…And I will watch your world... Burn.
Red flames prevailed the swoops of orange as the final blade was driven in to the ground, straight through the chest of the great orange flame…
Blood tickled around the broken blade as eyes gasped in horror. Desperately searching for help, of which there was none.
The chipped and bloody blade slowly rose from the flesh and bone, chipping away at the skin like a saw as it slowly did with the many broken edges that tattered the blade, made from previous clashes and combat.
The blade would be thrown away soon after, regardless of it's rich décor and no matter how well made steel point. It was just a tool in the end.
The red bird had stood triumphant over the fox as even the last few moments of painful agony had all come to a crashing end.
"Die… Uzumaki.