Note: This fic will rougly be based on the events in the Book of Revelations. All info shown in this fic may or may not be accurate, since my only source is a public encyclopedia, i.e. Wikipedia.
Anyway, sit back, relax, and hopefully enjoy!
Prologue..
Prontera...capital city of Rune-Midgard. For a city with so many people, it's awfully quiet at night. Death literally watches over your every move.
Unlike the other cities of Rune-Midgard, Prontera has no nightlife whatsoever. Not a single bar can be found across the whole city. By the time the moon sets foot in the night sky, the once busy and lively city of Prontera turns into a ghost town; not a single soul alive would dare walk these streets at these hours...
...except for me. No foolish gangster would even dare stare me in the eye.
"..and if they do, I'll be sure to make short work out of them." I whispered to myself, feeling for my two guns with both hands.
It was raining as hard as ever, and I could feel the rain's weight on my shoulders as it weighed down my black trench coat. Seeing an alleyway nearby, I decided to walk down its streets, as the rooftops and the walls would lessen the amount of rainfall.
"It's dark..." I once more whispered to myself. All around me, I could hear the splashing of water, but something seemed different. As if it weren't raindrops splashing on the puddles, but rather...feet.
Taking a cigarette from a pack in my pocket, I lit it with my lighter, and saw them; gangsters...the foolish low lives. One of them dared to stare me in the eye, and was right in front of me when I lit my cigarette – did he not know he was staring death in the eye?
The short time I saw them when I lit my cigarette was all I needed to know where they were. In the instant it grew dark once more, I felt them closing in on me, planning on stealing my things...No way!
I instantly took my two guns and pointed both at one of them.
"You gonna mess with me, punk?" I boastfully said.
"You don't have the guts to shoot—"
But I did. A flash of light briefly showed me his bloody face, a deep hole was made on his forehead where the bullet had gone through.
"One." I said, indicating that was only the first.
Behind me, I heard the revving of engines, and the drawing of swords. Without a second thought, I turned around and shot the man on his motorbike, the quick flash revealing his bloody head falling down to the ground.
The motorbike, however, still running at top speed towards me. A burst of light emanated from behind me, as pain began surging down my left arm to my hand, blood dripping down to my gun.
"Shit!" I bellowed. I now know what pain felt like, and it wasn't good.
With my left arm swinging from side to side, I jumped onto the motorbike as it sped past me, shooting the man who shot me as I passed him. Behind me, more engines started revving; they were not happy about what I had just done. No problem.
I turned around and pointed my gun at them and shot. Nothing changed. I could still hear the engines running at top speed toward me. Suddenly, a bright light blinded me, as pain sunk deep into my right hand, forcing me to drop my gun. What has happened to the skill I spent years perfecting? Was this the end?
With both arms being crushed by pain, I struggled with one hand to steer the motorbike, while the other tried to shoot down those who were chasing me. Blood-soaked gun in hand, I shot. Twice. Thrice. Things were not looking so good for me.
Only one thing left to do.
Throwing away my blood-soaked gun, I took my knife and cut my right arm deeper as it held onto the handlebars, letting the blood soak down into my whole hand. A weak, luminescent light began to engulf my hand, and chains wrapped around each of my fingers, with knives at the end of the chains, acting as a large claw, whose fingers I could throw, and use as a chain to throw my enemies in the air.
With my left hand gripping the handlebar firmly, I launched the five knives from my fingers towards the gangsters. Though I could not see what was happening, I could hear and feel the knives seer into their flesh. I pulled back my right arm with such force that I threw them off their motorbikes; something I never would have thought I'd be able to do in this state. With a simple tug, the knives retracted, and the chains coiled once more around my fingers.
As I looked in front of me, however, I didn't notice the ramp until it was too late, and I found myself flying through the air with the motorbike. Next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground, blood-soaked, and the claw had disappeared. My magic was weakening. I had lost both my guns, and in this state, I could not tell how long I would last.
But that was not important at the moment. The will of God is absolute. My brethren are waiting for me, having been asleep since the creation of the universe...