I wrote this over Christmas. It's not very cheery, and may or may not ever be finished.
-Nir
It's cold. Medusa has gone, but she said she would check up every once in a while. They were standing on a tall building, taller than any building Chrona had ever seen, and Medusa told Chrona what today's exercise would be.
You see those men on the sidewalks? The ones wearing red and ringing the bells?
There are lots of them, Chrona. I want you to kill them all and have Ragnarok eat their souls. If you do not get every one of them, or if you allow yourself to be caught, you will sleep outside tonight.
It's still cold. The man in the red suit is across the street with his bell, the street which is clogged with cars like clots in an artery. They are slow, and the time to cross never seems to come. People pass, paying no mind to the child who waits for the cars to stop and idly taps dirty snow into the gutter with the end of a boot. Why would they? It's peaceful now. There's no need to interrupt that.
Finally, there's a gap. Chrona darts forward, urged on by the cars' petulant honking. The man is close, the ringing of his bell rising above the murmur of the people on the sidewalk and the growling of the cars. There's more to the exercise than making Medusa happy and getting to sleep indoors. This man and his bell are the key to being strong, and not having to be afraid. Chrona would like to think that he isn't scary, but he is. Everyone is. If he were to turn around and yell, Chrona would run and never be able to come back.
Chrona waits. Some people look over, but there's nothing remarkable about the skinny kid in the black sweatshirt. The man is still looking away. It has to be done soon. It has to be done now. The force of Ragnarok's liquid form slices a hole in the back of his host's clothing, a dark and shapeless mass that quickly gains shape and comes to rest in Chrona's hand. The weapon, once so small and toylike has grown long and lean with its wielder over the eight years they have existed together, but their symbiotic bond is no less strong, as twisted as its fibers may be.
Ragnarok screams as Chrona raises his blade, making the people on the sidewalk duck and run for cover, their hands clasped over their ears. Why do they lean over like that? Are they expecting a giant bird to swoop down on them? Or a dragon? It's a few years too early for the dragon, but the desired effect is achieved and Chrona runs Ragnarok's point into the space below the man's left shoulder blade. The sword's vibration shatters the bones easily before moving on to the heart, and the first bell-ringing man has fallen.
A little blue flame drifts free of his body and hangs there for a moment. The screaming has stopped and some of the sidewalk people stare at it until Ragnarok vacuums it up. Then Chrona has to run from the grasping hands of the sidewalk people. The first one is always the easiest, because nobody is looking or expecting anything to happen. Now they'll all be scared, and the other bell men might hear about it and disappear. Now Chrona will have to move more quickly.
Luckily, the street is crowded and easy to get lost in. The cold air gets in through the new hole in Chrona's sweatshirt, but it's bearable for now. Ragnarok has to return now too, because people will be looking for someone with a sword. His metal body has gotten chilly now, and it's going to hurt to let him back inside. Like the worst cold headache ever, only all over your body.
There's an alleyway, and Chrona quickly ducks inside it. Another man is in the alley, but he doesn't have a bell. He sees Ragnarok and the blood and he's scared, but probably not as scared as Chrona is of him and the possibility of having to kill him and waste more time. Ragnarok goes back inside before Chrona can do anything, making his host scream and double over at the sudden icy pain. This scares the man and he runs, saving Chrona the trouble of having to decide whether to kill him or not.