A final battle. A death. A sacrifice. These described the events that had reached its crescendo long before the end.
"Your delusions of grandeur end here!"
A war happened here. A war revolving around only three – originally two – men.
Here it laid - the remains of a volcano that didn't just erupt – it exploded. The amount of fighting spirit built into the battle, regardless of being good or bad, had overpowered the devilish mountain of lava and rock, and destroyed it. This may as well have been a graveyard for most, if not all, of those who took part. As a part of history, the 'Battle of Brimstone and Fire' was the violent spectacle that over 20 years of hell within a fractured family built up to, but although only one was meant to be the definitive victor, a third power intent on fulfilling a long-set cause had other plans.
"My power is absolute..."
Thus, we see here, the results of that war, within a volcano blasted, almost into nothingness. None of these three warriors, by the end of it, were left standing, and they weren't discovered by anyone else...
...except perhaps someone, something, that found its way into the wasteland of what was the volcano. Surveying the aftermath, hours past the battle's end, it found this sight to seem like art.
The cobwebs of cracks within the molten rock surface, the lava oozing out and bursting with what little power remains after its flood, the red tint glowing across the air off the brightness of the orange pool layered underneath the ground, still visible through the deep smoke that continued to make its way around.
But the energy... the energy left in the air was certainly a taste to behold. To breath in, soak it in... the fighters who were here, alive or dead, were still around in spirit... and that spirit was its own to claim.
Held in one hand, a small black ball that almost looks like a ghastly black hole or a piece of a dark void – vibrating within the fingers of the holder. It sensed the power of the fighting spirit roaming in the air. It was hungry.
This unknown being knew what to do. With this power, it knew its cause – it was their turn to rise to the occasion.
That was what it wanted.
Rise up.
Take everything.
"Fighting is about who's left standing...
...Nothing else."
This doubles as both a bit of a Drabble of Alexandria for the bit (since I've been slacking a little, reasonable since I just recently moved into a new place), and a hint of a big story I'm in the middle of starting up. Stay tuned for that.