The world came to an end.
The Cessation transpired a lot slower than everyone predicted. It was a process, not a moment. The sky leisurely lost its luster, even in the lucid summer months. Flora and fauna alike began to feel the feathers of the finale silently embracing the world. The only beauty remained in the night, for the moon was closest to being full. The peace that passed in the multitude of days before the Armageddon were a far cry from what would ensue when the end actually began. Humankind was in for a shock, having been lulled into tranquility by the attitude of their surroundings.
Families spent more time together in those last days, and crime grinded to a halt as even the most blackened hearts felt as though the evil had been torn from them. As it happens, the evil really was drawn from their hearts, and subsequently used to nourish those corrupted hell-spawn who would make their first and last appearance at the End of Days. Just beneath the surface teemed millions of the worst kinds of creatures, most of which were mindless beings whose instincts told them a feeding frenzy was about to begin. There were a few of these demons, however, who were much more intelligent than their ravenous brethren, and in turn much more powerful. These were given names, domains to rule, and high-quality souls to reap. But of these privileged few, only one planned on ignoring all his primal instincts to satisfy a personal hunger. As the life drained from the planet, as the thin border between Hell and Humanity began to shatter, only one thought occupied the dreams of the comatose mind belonging to Sig Danasty.
Revenge.
The havoc began in, ironically, Mt St Helens. This eruption was no accident. From out of the smoke came a deadly influx of demons. Some flew, some crawled. All moved extremely fast. All were already en route to kill. Their keen, animalistic senses picked out every human within a wide radius. Then came the Grand Canyon. It glowed with an unholy crimson before spewing every manner of foul beast into the atmosphere. Humans panicked, but that was about the greatest response they could muster. A sense of dread swept over the nation and subsequently the planet as news of the outbreaks started popping up more and more. The entire mainland of Chile was wiped out in minutes by the force of the volcanoes' discharges. The Pacific Ring of Fire lit up as host to another miasma of flesh-seeking slaughterers.
Deep within the Pacific Ocean, he stirred.
Their fight or flight instincts triggered, humanity began a desperate flight in any manner possible. Planes, boats, trains, all took off as quickly as they were able. Millions were left behind with space still available. Thousands were killed meandering in the paths of these great hopes of humanity. The boats were all stocked to last for weeks, perhaps months, until the reckoning blew over.
His eyes opened, blue and red shining mutedly in the murky darkness of the deep.
All aboard the ships, those surviving families breathed sighs of relief. A wave of reprieve washed over their weary souls, for many had just seen the slaughter of their loved ones. They believed, truly, that they had lucked out.
He could sense her, caught in the turmoil somewhere in Paris. She was alive, and fighting. He would change that.
A young girl who had managed to claw her way onto a ship heaved herself against the stern rails of the Carnival Triumph. She looked back at California, certain in herself that she would survive. After all, she had seen plenty of apocalyptic anime. She closed her eyelids slowly, as the rocking motion had momentarily lulled her to sleep. They fluttered open again moments later, and her vision was filled with ocean. In the split second that followed, she only had time to whimper before the sloping Triumph completed its capsizing.
He yawned, shrugging aside the ship that he had accidentally surfaced under. He gave it a mere sideways glance, before he caught a fresh wind of her scent. She was ten thousand miles away, but the ocean breeze was tainted with her distinguished scent. After all, it was one of the only scents besides the ocean breeze he had awoken to. He willed the ocean to throw him forth, and every molecule of water obeyed. He created tsunamis in his wake, but for all he concerned those were just extra kills. As he vaulted at supersonic speed over what remained of California, the young man smiled a rare smile. He had one purpose. He would keep his promise.
~Scratch~
She tried to hide herself in a mob of people, but when he pointed at her they scattered. With her only option to fight, she finally turned to him for the first time in years. Green eyes glowering, blood-red hair dirty and unkempt. He froze in place before her, blue sword drawn and expression lacking.
"Sinnet."
"Danasty."
"I figured you deserved a funeral speech." He spat out, hatred burning in his eyes. She looked unfazed, even in the face of death.
"This is an unfair fight. You've still got your powers." She spat back, her scythe held like a cobra poising to strike.
"I gave you multiple chances to reconcile. You tried to kill our kid." She gave an indignant snort.
"She told you? That insensitive b-" Her breath was cut short by a black sneaker placing itself in her chest. The force of the impact knocked her off her feet, but she didn't quite hit the ground. The hands coiled around her ankles made sure of that, as they launched her in the opposite direction and into a nearby car. Before she could lift herself from the dent in the van, his claws were over her windpipe.
"Don't you DARE talk about her that way. You don't deserve her." His red claws became violet, and then ebony. His eyes hardened as he watched her writhe in agony, seeing the veins in her neck bulge as the blood piled up against her constricted airway. He couldn't resist quipping, "This isn't the first time I've made you choke, Mao."
The comment must've struck a chord, because she placed a solid kick into his unprotected crotch. He staggered back, and she gave him a forceful roundhouse kick, smashing her heel off in the process. The ebony aura surrounding him broke, and she leapt for an overhead swing with her scythe. Her scythe blade was met with his sword, and though she had the momentum, he had much more strength. She rolled to the side, swiping her scythe across the pavement at his prone form. He managed a quick rising handspring, stepping hard on the blade as it passed him. He grinned in her face, snapping the snath of the scythe in half. A discharge of magical energy from the broken scythe blasted them both back, though she managed to land on her feet. He landed back first into a brick wall, dazed. She screamed madly, throwing herself at him bodily. He caught her by the wrists, barely managing to keep her claws from his throat. He looked into her eyes, and winked. She growled, leaned in and sank her teeth into his neck.
He gave a short yelp, feeling warm blood pour out from the wound. She vaulted back, using the momentum to tear a chunk of flesh from his neck. She spat it out, grinning at him as his vision swam. He watched dazed as she picked up his sword, barely standing with the weight. She raised it over her head, and he saw its cobalt glint in the sunlight. As his consciousness ebbed, and his motor functions shut down, he squinted at her and she spoke the last words he'd ever hear from her.
"You couldn't please her like me, anyway."
She brought the blade over her head in a perfect arc. It sank into his flesh. She tried forcing it down, but he was given renewed strength. Out of the wound on his hand, which had caught the sword faster than she could perceive, poured jet black blood. The blood wrapped itself around the sword, and he wrenched it from her shaking grasp. She stepped back as a shadowy aura surrounded him entirely, dyeing his blue hair black and covering his limbs. He sheathed the sword, wiped the blood on his shirt, and then reared back for a punch.
The earth shook from the force of the impact.
She crashed into several buildings, before coming to rest in a grassy field. He was right behind her, placing his foot on her stomach. He unsheathed his sword, burying it to the hilt inside her shoulder. She gasped breathlessly, having no oxygen to muster a screech. A ripping noise came from his shirt, and a large blue pair of leathery wings lifted him into the air. She looked up at him curiously, watching as he ascended away into the clouds. His shadowy cloak disappeared behind a cloud, and she closed her eyes, having figured he'd let her live. Then the air temperature dropped.
She looked skyward to see a large vortex, spanning the width of several miles, drawing in clouds and water from all around. Her keen eyes picked up every angle of the black ice lance forming in his hand. Her former husband shouted something unrecognizable, throwing the lance as he did so. She struggled in vain, pulling at the sword embedded in her scapula. The lance reached her before the words did.
As the dust settled around the crater of impact, the force of the shout stirred up an even greater cloud. A lone girl, crying at the beach miles away, could barely make out the words. But she heard them clearly enough.
"Revenge is a dish… Best served cold."