"Don't you see the pain in this world! You're The Dragon of Time, are you not! You cannot feign ignorance. The endless loop of suffering has been spinning from time immemoral, and I'm going to put an end to it! I'll make a new world with no suffering! I'll avenge myself against these wicked astravians so that their children's children will remember what they've done to me. I will fulfill my beloved's dream! I will bring peace to this world!"
Darkon snarls as he raises his polearm. It leaves his hand to float languidly upwards before snapping around to aim directly at The Hero's chest. The Dragon of Time is staring at him with something not quite fury. They had been arguing with each other rather heatedly about how the world 'should' be, before they've begun to trade blows in the deafening maelstrom of nothingness.
And much to his surprise, he found The Dragon rather significantly weakened due to the effects of the warped time stream. Perhaps he was confused as well, because he seemed to run about robotically taking orders from whoever would give them. It was an odd thing, really. It appeared that The Hero did all the heavy lifting on both sides of this conflict. One moment he was doing Drago's bidding. Next, that Traitor, La's, recently, his... and now they were standing face to face.
Well, not standing. The Hero is collapsed, exhausted, a few paces away from him - his limbs trembling with the effort to even sit up and look at him. Darkon feels a little bad, after all. The Hero is well known to be pure hearted and constantly fights for peace and prosperity. He had expended himself to battle for him, then reason with him, and now - Darkon is going to slay that benevolent entity without even a hint of ceremony.
"Darkon!" He coughs, his voice pleading as bronze ichor stains his sharp teeth, "The people must have a choice! What's a world without freedom! A world where there is no right or wrong! Reconsider - prince! You must!"
Even now, at the brink of defeat, The Dragon is still trying to reason with him. His persistence is admirable, as is his goodwill, but and at this point Darkon is far past convincing. The Dragon was the deity and guardian of Lore... and yet even he couldn't make the perfect world. One might imagine he could've done something. But obviously - no matter how much The Hero wanted he, he was unable to stop all the suffering he saw.
Perhaps he saw that interfering in the flow of time would have disastrous effects? Maybe this is just the 'best' timeline in this broken world... But Darkon wouldn't pretend to understand the mind of The Dragon. He was a broken deity for this broken world. Darkon would be the perfect god of his new earth.
He fixes his eyes on The Hero and shouts. There are notes of sorrow in his voice, yes - but it's doesn't matter. The death of The Dragon for a perfect world. This is an exchange Darkon its willing to make.
"You cannot stand before The Arcana's power - Dragon! You are too weak to fix this world! I will do it for you."
The air seems to reverberate as power gathers in a singular point, congealing at the tip of Darkon's weapon. The emptiness about them swirls like an inky whirlpool. The Hero says nothing. The pleading has dropped from his eyes. The Fury is gone too. Instead, just sadnes-... no... disappointment and exasperation. Did one feel exasperated when about to be skewered? That... well...
It is a bit suspicious, but it'd not enough for Darkon to stop. It doesn't matter what The Dragon thought. Soon enough, he was going to be dead. Darkon fixes his eyes and raises his chin. He points at The fallen Hero. The Polearm glows with power
"And if i need to kill you to fulfill my dream, then so be it! I will do away with rebellion, and sadness, and pain and suffering. I will cause all war to cease! Every creature will live in harmony! With the power of The Arcana, I will make a perfect paradise... and will always remember you for your sacrifice."
Darkon flicks his wrist. The polearm shoots at The Hero so quickly, it's merely a flash in the dark. There's a thud. Darkon shuts his eyes.
"Farewell Dragon."
Time stops.
Everything stops.
Everything is quiet.
A deep, deathly silence.
The Great Arcana beasts are still... and so too Darkon. He can't even blink, but he's concious. He can think. He can feel. He can see. He can hear... and what he hears sends shivers down his spine. He begins to panic, but cannot express it.
"A Paradise? I'd recommend against that, Little Prince."
The voice is doubled. The growl of a dragon beneath an annoyed sigh. There is the air of disgust in The Hero's voice that Darkon had never heard there before. Nay, until now, he could hardly imagine The Pure hearted Hero speaking to anyone like that. He is still laying where Darkon had pinned him, but unlike a moment ago, he doesn't sound injured... or even winded. What in the world?! Was the Hero... just messing around? Was he pretending to be weak?!
"You keep taking about Paradise, but paradise is boring. I had to just... do away with it after a while. You know how it is..."
What?!
He can't speak. All he can do is slowly digest the information... and when he does, he trembles in rage. The Hero yanks The glowing Polearm from his chest and tosses it aside before climbing to his feet. His torso is badly ravaged, blood pumping from various gashes to leave golden streaks on the floor where he treads - but he doesn't seem to mind. Instead, The Dragon-man yawns languidly before brushing the dust off his ornate greaves. He smirked as he approaches, his walk - confident and predatory.
"You know what happens when everyone is happy and healthy? Everyone well fed and celebrating in goodness and abundance?"
"..."
"Exactly!" The Hero congratulates him like a school teacher. "Nothing happens. It's not interesting or entertaining or anything really. It's boring as hell, and that's not a world I want to live in."
Darkon could hardly believe what he was hearing. What kind of admission was The Dragon making right now?! Was The Benevolent Guardian of Lore saying he once had paradise, but threw it away for entertainment's sake? That Hero who had worked tirelessly for the sake of peace and prosperity... wasn't actually striving for it? That the greatest force of goodness was the very one that plunged this world into darkness in the first place? Impossible! Impossible!
The Hero laughed at him as he steps so close, there is hardly space between them at all. He grins with his mouthful of too sharp teeth. His eyes have lost the veneer of kindness, and are now hard and sparkling like diamonds. Burning like coals. He reachs up and stroks Darkon's cheek as he croons over him. His voice has never been crueler as he whispers the stinging words.
"War and strife... suffering, despair and pain. It's far more exciting than that boring paradise. Drama! Excitement! That's what I want... and what I want... that's important too, dont'cha think? I am pretty important after all."
Darkon feels rage bubbling up so hot, he thought his head might explode. He nearly doesn't realize he's been unfrozen until he lashes out and slams his fist into The Hero's temple. The Dragon man doesn't stagger nor lose his grin. Clearly, he's been feigning his weakness throughout their first battle. His eyes sparkle and his laugh is cruel silver bells as time freezes once more. With a motion of his hand, Darkon's polearm zips into his palm. He pries open The Prince's clenches fist and wraps his weapon in his fingers with the same gentle care of a mother dressing her infant, or a wife tying her husband's tie.
"There you go... okay, try again."
Time unfreezes. Darkon's weapon flashes as it swings for The Hero's throat. The Prince's mouth is dry. His eyes screwed in disgust. How dare he. How dare this fucking dragon take paradise away!! If he hadn't, Suki would be alive! Perhaps he'd be the king of a happy, prosperous nation without the Empress's touch! Everything would be perfect, but for the sake of this damn Dragon's boredom - the world is shrouded in distress.
Clang!*
The Hero blocks the polearm's blade with the back of his hand. The blade pierces the skin, but seems to stop short immediately - as if lodging against a subcutaneous layer of chain mail. The Hero is nonplussed. He watches Darkon carefully - his eyes fevered and full of excitement. His grin in cruel. He's drinking this in. When Darkon screams at him, The Hero can hardly contain his sick delight.
"You!! You ruined the world! You have endless blood on your hands! You killed Suki! You! Bring her back! Bring her back now!!"
"Hm? Why would I do that? Look what her death has done to you? Isn't this fun?! Isn't this really damn fun? Just look at you! Look around?! Look what war and strife has brought about! This is damn fucking exciting, and don't you dare try to say it's not."
The Hero is grinning. His eyes are too wide. His tongue is too long and roils sickeningly about as he spits those horrible words. He flicks aside the polearm and spreads his arms, baring his wounds in a mocking invitation to kill.
"Come on then, Prince... Aren't you dreadfully angry? Call upon your powers that I may shred them in my claws! I've been wanting to kill The Arcana for a while now, but as they are, there is neither malice nor sharpness to them. Boring, pathetic lumbering deities that are hardly worth my attention, much less my aggression. They need you - Darkon! Make them exciting for me. "
He roars a battle cry far exceeding the volume of his lungs, the corners of his mouth tearing apart as if his human skin is made of nothing but thin rubber. Time rumbles and leaps, snapping in feral glee. A crest appears over The Hero. The Crest of The Dragon. The Human form bursts and a massive scaly form climbs out of the golden bloodstain. The Dragon in his full glory. A hundred feet tall and teeth like pikes. When he speaks, his voice entirely guttural.
"Come, Prince! Arm yourself! Let us do battle!"
Om nom.
Its The very Same Hero. :) he's a man/thing of many talents