Author's Note: *still hiding in safe to protect self from vengeful fellow
authors and their strangling, pike roasting, and Barney watching* I knew
this would happen...
On a happier note, my super-busy month is FINALLY over! Plus, we've got 11:30 dismissal Wednesday through Friday, so I'll have even MORE time to write. Rejoice. And better still, I reserved a copy of Golden Sun: Lost Age on Friday! WHOO! Now I just have to keep myself from exploding until the 15th... relax, it's only two weeks from tomorrow...
Mmf... as previously stated, the beginning of this chapter will be told from Rayen's POV. The line of asterisks that usually depicts scene change will mean a switch back to third person in this instance.
Chapter 75
Nobody can truly understand what I go through every time that stone glows black. Some of them try to comfort themselves against the horrible atrocities I commit while clad in the armor of the Apocalypse Dragoon by convincing themselves that the armor takes hold of me, and that I cannot control my actions. As much as I would like to confirm that, it truly is a lie. I am totally conscious and rational, or at least as rational as one can be in that accursed suit, under such incredible pain. For that is how the Apocalypse Dragoon works; the agony it induces on the wearer is so intense that I would do anything to end it as quickly as I possibly can, and I know that the only way to achieve that is to destroy everything in sight. If I were to be presented with a planet filled with helpless infants to annihilate, I would have done so without a second thought, if it meant that it would terminate the transformation. That's how all encompassing and absolute the pain is.
My anger and my grief over the sight of Shade falling to what would undoubtedly be his demise, tangled up with a dozen other incomprehensible emotions, awakened the evil presence lying just below the crystalline surface of the Prism Spirit. As soon as the armor had manifested itself, I found myself already reaching for Azmerak, the fiery eyes of the twin dragons seeming to gleam in bloodthirsty anticipation. My other hand snatched the argent hilt of the Dragon Buster from my belt. The flaming yellow blade emerged, and as it had when I had used the ancient weapon as the Guardian Dragoon, it began to change. Except that the sword turned not to blue, but to red. Not the pale red-orange of an open fire, but a deep crimson, like blood.
Over the roaring pain in my head, I heard a voice I dimly recognized as Phil's, yelling hoarsely for the other Dragoons to clear out of the way. I realized, with a sort of perverse satisfaction on a deep level of my consciousness that appalled what little of my sane mind remained, that he was warning them about me. I pushed off the ground, reluctantly at first, as if my mind were bodily hurling itself at my onrushing anger. But it was to no avail, and the amazing force of my fury unleashed to its most chaotic level flattened my resolve, and the berserk machine I had become was allowed to run rampant. With both swords raised above my head, I launched myself into the throng, and the slaughter began.
I was so far into the rush of adrenaline and torment that I sliced indiscriminately through everything in my path, paying no attention to whatever I killed before I moved onto the next target. Nothing mattered to me but the destruction, because everything I exterminated brought me one step closer to ending my own torture. Undoubtedly it seems selfish, but nobody had my burden forced upon him or her. It is simply unendurable, more than anyone could stand. So I killed, and what scared me most is that some portion of me, however small, did not just enjoy the massacre, but reveled in it.
I reached the edge of the precipice, and whipped around. The tips of the Destroyer and the distorted Dragon Buster met, and my magic began to flow between them, manifesting itself in the form of crackling red energy. My voice echoed across the snow-covered expanse, an area where, if my current objectives were accomplished, would be completely devoid of life. "The torrential storm runs red with the blood of my enemies, strike them down once more! Crimson Lightning."
The blades parted, and the magic spread from both swords, unleashed into bolts that leapt from victim to victim in a lethal web. I watched in satisfaction as the magic multiplied as it sped across the plateau, almost as if it were feeding off the death of its victims. I floated back down to the snowy ground below, and was just about to hurl myself back into the fray to annihilate any remainders when I was suddenly halted. Two arms, one emerald, the other golden, grabbed my elbows and pinned them to my sides. Two additional arms, obviously the companion to each previous set, landed on my back, between my wings, and forced me to double over. I wrenched my head around, a furious scowl on my face, ready to incinerate these audacious yet suicidal fools who dared to oppose me. But then I felt the pain that coursed through me recede, and I knew that my Spirit energy was finally exhausted. The transformation was ended.
I slumped in the two pairs of arms, but continued to turn my head, and found myself gazing into the faces of Phil and Oraeus. Their eyes were filled with pity. Great, this was exactly what I needed, more sympathy. I hate it when people think I need their remorse. I don't need them feeling sorry for me. I broke free from their grasp, taking a few steps forward. My voice was hoarse and cracking when it finally got free of my constricting throat. "How many did we lose?"
"Nine, not counting Shade."
Nine were dead, and only two had been killed before Shade had fallen. The blood of seven of my own warriors was on my hands. My fists clenched, and a bitter brew of anger and self-loathing forced its way down my throat. I continued to march almost mechanically across the outcropping. Nine were dead, and Shade made ten.
************************************************************************
Eclipse watched their leader go, his hands folded across his chest. It was ironic, when he thought about it. He had been created for the sole purpose of killing Shade, and now that he really was dead, he felt sort of... empty. As if he had lost a piece of himself, and rightly so. Shade was a part of him now, with his memories permanently burned into his mind. To find him dead was sort of like losing your past.
He had originally thought he would replace Shade, but that illusion was dispelled now. Nothing and no one could replace Shade, for his memory would still remain even if a carbon copy stepped in. His thoughts, his deeds, his advice, and his actions would remain, and those things were irreplaceable. He could step into Shade's role as a Dragoon, but he would never fill the void that his death had left behind. Eclipse finally understood what it meant to be human.
Kyra also watched Rayen go, but she was filled not with disdain or apprehension or pity, but a sort of strange uneasiness. There was something about the way he walked, as if he had a heavy weight resting on his shoulders. The Wingly chewed her bottom lip, wrestling with her own stubbornness. Should she reassure him, should she tell him...?
Oh, to hell with him and his bloody conscience. The cold façade returned, and she spun on her heel and left.
************************************************************************
The shadowy winged shape slid into the air from the pile of rocks that had collected at the foot of the cliff, a bundle of black cloth clutched in its teeth. The black creature beat its wings a few times, then relaxed, letting the wind currents take it far from the place. It was pleased to have found this thing so easily. It had been afraid that one of the other pesky beings would have gotten to it first. But no, the thing it had been seeking was there and intact, found after only a momentary search. The master would be pleased.
Author's Note: Chapter over. OK, for all the people that were bugging me about romance, I hope you're happy. I've been trying to put subtle hints in here and there for a long time, but I'm apparently to obvious for some people (DDX guessed it about 50 chapters ago, but he had who was digging on who reversed), but not obvious enough for others, so I decided to make it blatant. Enjoy.
Anyway, I'm finally going to update LF, LS next, and then I'll work on Chapter 76. OK? Good.
On a happier note, my super-busy month is FINALLY over! Plus, we've got 11:30 dismissal Wednesday through Friday, so I'll have even MORE time to write. Rejoice. And better still, I reserved a copy of Golden Sun: Lost Age on Friday! WHOO! Now I just have to keep myself from exploding until the 15th... relax, it's only two weeks from tomorrow...
Mmf... as previously stated, the beginning of this chapter will be told from Rayen's POV. The line of asterisks that usually depicts scene change will mean a switch back to third person in this instance.
Chapter 75
Nobody can truly understand what I go through every time that stone glows black. Some of them try to comfort themselves against the horrible atrocities I commit while clad in the armor of the Apocalypse Dragoon by convincing themselves that the armor takes hold of me, and that I cannot control my actions. As much as I would like to confirm that, it truly is a lie. I am totally conscious and rational, or at least as rational as one can be in that accursed suit, under such incredible pain. For that is how the Apocalypse Dragoon works; the agony it induces on the wearer is so intense that I would do anything to end it as quickly as I possibly can, and I know that the only way to achieve that is to destroy everything in sight. If I were to be presented with a planet filled with helpless infants to annihilate, I would have done so without a second thought, if it meant that it would terminate the transformation. That's how all encompassing and absolute the pain is.
My anger and my grief over the sight of Shade falling to what would undoubtedly be his demise, tangled up with a dozen other incomprehensible emotions, awakened the evil presence lying just below the crystalline surface of the Prism Spirit. As soon as the armor had manifested itself, I found myself already reaching for Azmerak, the fiery eyes of the twin dragons seeming to gleam in bloodthirsty anticipation. My other hand snatched the argent hilt of the Dragon Buster from my belt. The flaming yellow blade emerged, and as it had when I had used the ancient weapon as the Guardian Dragoon, it began to change. Except that the sword turned not to blue, but to red. Not the pale red-orange of an open fire, but a deep crimson, like blood.
Over the roaring pain in my head, I heard a voice I dimly recognized as Phil's, yelling hoarsely for the other Dragoons to clear out of the way. I realized, with a sort of perverse satisfaction on a deep level of my consciousness that appalled what little of my sane mind remained, that he was warning them about me. I pushed off the ground, reluctantly at first, as if my mind were bodily hurling itself at my onrushing anger. But it was to no avail, and the amazing force of my fury unleashed to its most chaotic level flattened my resolve, and the berserk machine I had become was allowed to run rampant. With both swords raised above my head, I launched myself into the throng, and the slaughter began.
I was so far into the rush of adrenaline and torment that I sliced indiscriminately through everything in my path, paying no attention to whatever I killed before I moved onto the next target. Nothing mattered to me but the destruction, because everything I exterminated brought me one step closer to ending my own torture. Undoubtedly it seems selfish, but nobody had my burden forced upon him or her. It is simply unendurable, more than anyone could stand. So I killed, and what scared me most is that some portion of me, however small, did not just enjoy the massacre, but reveled in it.
I reached the edge of the precipice, and whipped around. The tips of the Destroyer and the distorted Dragon Buster met, and my magic began to flow between them, manifesting itself in the form of crackling red energy. My voice echoed across the snow-covered expanse, an area where, if my current objectives were accomplished, would be completely devoid of life. "The torrential storm runs red with the blood of my enemies, strike them down once more! Crimson Lightning."
The blades parted, and the magic spread from both swords, unleashed into bolts that leapt from victim to victim in a lethal web. I watched in satisfaction as the magic multiplied as it sped across the plateau, almost as if it were feeding off the death of its victims. I floated back down to the snowy ground below, and was just about to hurl myself back into the fray to annihilate any remainders when I was suddenly halted. Two arms, one emerald, the other golden, grabbed my elbows and pinned them to my sides. Two additional arms, obviously the companion to each previous set, landed on my back, between my wings, and forced me to double over. I wrenched my head around, a furious scowl on my face, ready to incinerate these audacious yet suicidal fools who dared to oppose me. But then I felt the pain that coursed through me recede, and I knew that my Spirit energy was finally exhausted. The transformation was ended.
I slumped in the two pairs of arms, but continued to turn my head, and found myself gazing into the faces of Phil and Oraeus. Their eyes were filled with pity. Great, this was exactly what I needed, more sympathy. I hate it when people think I need their remorse. I don't need them feeling sorry for me. I broke free from their grasp, taking a few steps forward. My voice was hoarse and cracking when it finally got free of my constricting throat. "How many did we lose?"
"Nine, not counting Shade."
Nine were dead, and only two had been killed before Shade had fallen. The blood of seven of my own warriors was on my hands. My fists clenched, and a bitter brew of anger and self-loathing forced its way down my throat. I continued to march almost mechanically across the outcropping. Nine were dead, and Shade made ten.
************************************************************************
Eclipse watched their leader go, his hands folded across his chest. It was ironic, when he thought about it. He had been created for the sole purpose of killing Shade, and now that he really was dead, he felt sort of... empty. As if he had lost a piece of himself, and rightly so. Shade was a part of him now, with his memories permanently burned into his mind. To find him dead was sort of like losing your past.
He had originally thought he would replace Shade, but that illusion was dispelled now. Nothing and no one could replace Shade, for his memory would still remain even if a carbon copy stepped in. His thoughts, his deeds, his advice, and his actions would remain, and those things were irreplaceable. He could step into Shade's role as a Dragoon, but he would never fill the void that his death had left behind. Eclipse finally understood what it meant to be human.
Kyra also watched Rayen go, but she was filled not with disdain or apprehension or pity, but a sort of strange uneasiness. There was something about the way he walked, as if he had a heavy weight resting on his shoulders. The Wingly chewed her bottom lip, wrestling with her own stubbornness. Should she reassure him, should she tell him...?
Oh, to hell with him and his bloody conscience. The cold façade returned, and she spun on her heel and left.
************************************************************************
The shadowy winged shape slid into the air from the pile of rocks that had collected at the foot of the cliff, a bundle of black cloth clutched in its teeth. The black creature beat its wings a few times, then relaxed, letting the wind currents take it far from the place. It was pleased to have found this thing so easily. It had been afraid that one of the other pesky beings would have gotten to it first. But no, the thing it had been seeking was there and intact, found after only a momentary search. The master would be pleased.
Author's Note: Chapter over. OK, for all the people that were bugging me about romance, I hope you're happy. I've been trying to put subtle hints in here and there for a long time, but I'm apparently to obvious for some people (DDX guessed it about 50 chapters ago, but he had who was digging on who reversed), but not obvious enough for others, so I decided to make it blatant. Enjoy.
Anyway, I'm finally going to update LF, LS next, and then I'll work on Chapter 76. OK? Good.