So after uploading this chapter I'll have broken 300 reviews, my first time doing so. And I'd like to say you're all monumental fucking wizards for supporting this... creation.
I'm well aware I make poor choices occasionally, I'm more aware how shit the start was but hey. Here's hoping the march to the end will be monumentally better. Darkness I hope it is.
Dark Lake
Clothed and clean of bodily fluids the now trio sat at the edge of the black waters, Quela with a telltale glow about her, and Gwyndolin with a burning blush across her cheeks. Now with his horns and wings returned to his form Menma focused on the soul of Artorias, the golden glowing orb rose from the blackened waters of his soul, it expanded slightly and glowed brighter.
"What... where am I?" Questioned the echoing voice that whispered from the soul.
"Short answer, afterlife." Said Menma, the soul bobbed slightly spinning and looking every which way it could. To contain Artorias he'd need to keep the man oblivious and calm until he could assimilate him. Why not just do this when he was corrupted and weak? Because he got more power this way, nourishing the man's soul would increase the overall yield/loss ratio into his favour. There was centuries of experience in that ethereal wisp now, and with a few more days he'd get even more.
Not exactly the nicest thing to do, but he wasn't exactly the nicest person to exist anyway. At least the man would die happy. So that was a small consolation prize for unwillingly giving his knowledge and strength to the Abyss. 'The Abysswalker and the Vessel' quite the interesting idea, though thinking on it more Menma wasn't a mere vessel, unlike Chaos, he was the embodiment of Dark. If he so chose to rouse the Dark from its peaceful slumber and create another abyss that it could be world ending. Considering how the Undead were roused by humanity, and the festering of the human's inherient Dark would spread panic and chaos like it was wildfire.
It hadn't really occurred to him just how much power he had at his fingertips, now all he had to do was get back to the right time and all would be fine.
Long story short he was awesome, time travel sucked dick.
Speaking of penises being inside things.
"Quela, quick question." See what I did there?
"Yes dear?" Asked the Witch, getting a low hiss from Gwyndolin who stared at the older woman with a sharp glare, Quela merely met the look with a smirk.
"The Chaos hasn't manifest much more than the leaves," Menma guestured up to the trees and their flaming leaves, the wood of the trees looking like the Archtree's of old. "Is it dormant like the Dark?"
"Not so, my dear." Quela informed, "As this is a representation of your own soul your power would obviously be the most noticeable, linked and bound as we are the Chaos still rests within me. It is just... expressed through you." Menma nodded as he pondered this for another moment.
"It's so dark... is this the abyss? You say this is the afterlife but I feel no peace here, only... disquiet." Said Artorias' soul.
"That's because you've been taught to fear the dark. What do you see when you sleep? You see the dark, what wraps you in its embrace as you sink into oblivion? The Dark. You needn't fear what will not harm you, Knight. I am the Guardian here, and I mean you no harm. Only to guide you to rest." Assured the Dark Lord with a placating tone, the soul quivered before the light dimmed.
"I... I am very tired, rest sounds wonderful. My thanks, Guardian... perhaps we will meet once more, in the next life." Said the hopeful Knight, Menma smiled and assured him they would, his soul submerging back into the dark the light dispersing across the waters like lightning onto a river.
Menma sighed contently as he felt the slow burn of power entering his body once more, the sea of souls that acted in place of the sky swirled and whirled intensely before calming, these were the 'normal' souls he'd collected. He could give them to the flame to increase his own strength, his muscles tightened and expanded, it felt wonderful.
Power was a beautiful thing.
"So, I couldn't help but notice relative silence recently." Said Menma, glancing at the women at his sides.
"Nostalgia, mostly." Gwyndolin replied, idly dipping her toes into the dark lake, over the tree line one could spot Kurama looking over at them, a glorified shackle around his neck his angry red eyes leered dangerously.
"Humans... powerful or not, push them enough and they reveal their true selves. That's no man, that's a beast. No matter how much you deny it." Rumbled the creature within his own mind, this filth may hold more power than he, but they were still bound by the seal. That seal was etched onto the boys very soul, and until he was consumed and freed, Kurama's hatred would fester.
The boy had come into his mind, ruled by fear, and when he was called out on his cowardice he reacted like a ferocious animal. Kurama could respect his ferocity, but refused to accept the beast in a man's skin. He prodded and goaded the boy, to shed his humanity, to prove a point. To prove his father wrong, to say to the world 'Yes, this is what you all are.'
He'd wished sometimes, that he hadn't bothered. While he didn't miss the boy's companionship, he was vehemently bored, and boredom was equivalent to torture to an eternal being.
Saffron met red for a moment, Kurama locked eyes with the boy and there was a bestial hunger in those eyes, that made Kurama snarl quietly his ears flattened when he saw the boy mouth 'Soon'.
A hungry beast, that all he was.
Later, Royal Chamber.
Menma stood, garbed in a black tunic, a white sash around his waist with loose fitting trousers, somewhat reminiscent of hakama, as he'd had slight creative control over his wardrobe. A pair of simple black leather boots on his feet, his wings and horns out on full display. He stood with his hands crossed behind his back, little Gwyndolin almost hanging off his side, the child rapturously fond of the attention he gave her at the drop of a hat, a small purple serpent in her hands, "What's his name?" She whispered, trying to be inconspicuous as her sister addressed the nobles gathered.
The hall was filled with a dozen lords and ladies who had small holdings, comparatively, within Anor Londo, along with the leader of the local sect of the Way of White. Archbishop Hargray.
"Manda." Answered the Dark Lord, with a soft smile, the little snake king-to-be liked the taste of Gwyndolin, the morbid part of his mind drummed up the image of many Manda's in place of her legs but he pushed it away, it was not he who marred her form in such a way. If she liked his friend so, she would be allowed to play with him.
"He's very pretty." She whispered again, giggling quietly as the snake flicked its tongue against her cheek. Manda's golden eyes had a slight shimmer to them Menma had only seen during his contract ceremony.
"Sorry to disappoint, little one. But she's got no Chakra." Manda's whispy little voice produced a 'tsk' but he slid around the girls neck and soaked up the warmth she provided, Gwyndolin could barely contain the ticklish sensation Menma had to fight the laughter that would spill from his lips as she bounced on her heels to keep herself silent.
Menma shook his head with a smile on his lips, his eyes fell upon the gathered humans, they were gathered close together, reverently kneeling before the ethereal beauty that was the Princess of Sunlight, the great hall was decorated with Silver Knights, all had a rigid stance and stared directly ahead.
"I wonder if I should add a tail to this form?" Questioned Menma idly, then again that may be pushing it. He already looked like Lucifer's more attractive cousin, no need to push it. That and he already had more than enough transformations, his 'human' shape was twisted to his current state. His draconian form accessed by the amulet around his neck, and the Chaos at his hip at all times. Gwyndolin reminded him of this as she tapped the bell, making it chime quietly. He took her hand into his own and smiled down at her, she reddened and leant into his side, whilst she wasn't even half his height, a little bending never hurt anyone.
Besides he liked Gwyndolin, and chibi-Gwyndolin was almost so sweet it gave him cavities.
"And so, gentle humans of Anor Londo. I present the bearer of the Dark Soul, Lord Menma." Gwynevere rose a hand and directed their gaze to him, Menma released Gwyndolin's hand and took a few steps forward, they drank in his form, the Archbishop looking about ready to have a heart attack.
Menma tugged ever so subtly on the Dark Soul's power, resonating with each human gathered, they felt a calm settle when he smiled, their fears washed away, for no harbinger of chaos could wear such a warm, and gentle smile. They had nothing to fear.
"Hail, Lord Menma. It is an honor to be within your presence." Said a Merchant Lord, he was a blonde haired man with grass green eyes and a strong build, he had a gentlemen's look to him. Dude had a killer beard. "I am Maximilian Hohenheim."
The dignitaries offered their greetings, Menma didn't really care to memorize more than the skin deep details, they weren't his major concern. The Knights saluted crisply and echoed a one another as the nobles finally left.
"Hail to you, Lord of Dark." Menma smiled at them, tilting his head in a slight bow, before turning his gaze to the hefty chested maiden on the throne. He did a dramatic bow, his wings flaring out to their fullest, Gwynevere smiled serenely at him, he did have such a unique and welcomed presence.
The doors to the royal chambers were thrown open as Flann strode in, a red mantle across his shoulders, a gold clasp holding it together. Menma rose and faced the man over his shoulder. "Well that's just rude." He murmured, amusing himself.
Flann ignored the man and walked past him to speak with his wife, "My dear may I ask why I was barred from entering the Royal Chamber whilst the nobles were here?" He questioned with a slight edge to his voice, Menma leant down to the man's ear, making eye contact with the amused Gwynevere all the way.
"Because it didn't concern you." Said Menma, "We didn't invite the Smith either, but he's not here, complaining."
"Be silent you! You're just some ruffian off the street!" Snapped the Flame God with a hiss, embers crackling from his hands, Menma looked unimpressed by the attempt at intimidation, "You will speak when spoken to."
"Actually, I have declared the Lord of Dark as an honoured member of the court. Menma is now on equal footing to us all, public relations may end up with his clout stretching further among the common folk, as he is the only one amongst us with a true Lord Soul, Flann." Informed the woman, yes she'd taken a gamble by giving the man so much power, but she could see his true character. He was a man of his word, if nothing else. And he had no real motive to move against her in any way, and-and she'd offered him Flann's place at her side, if he proved himself as good as he boasted.
It was a win for almost everyone involved, she would get a strong, intelligent husband instead of a blowhard full of hot air, Gwyndolin was fond of the man so she would gain a father figure of some kind in place of the man they'd lost. The humans would have another, more relatable idol to exalt. There were far more positives to this and few downfalls.
Sure, some may say this makes the gods look to be just as human as they, considering that if uncertainty could fracture a bond between Gods what made them so godly? A slipperly slope could be taken, and it wouldn't be fabulous for anyone involved. But with the way the horned man handled those humans before, he softened them to him he tugged on their own fragments to welcome him with open arms.
She did not expect the Archbishop to greet him like a brother, almost weeping with joy at the sight of him.
"You-WHAT!?" This grown ass man, screeched, Menma was impressed for a moment he couldn't expect anyone past puberty to go that high. Flann looked up to the taller entity with fear in his eyes, "Dark Lord!? You? You're nothing but some vagabond the Knights brought back from that black pit and you claim to be a LORD!" Roared the man, flames dancing around his form.
Black miasma began to rise from Menma's body, his third eye opening with a bright shine, this same shine was mimicked by his other eyes, the darkness made Flann feel weak, like it was a suffocating wind around his flames, "You're nothing but an upjumped Pyromancer, where I come from we have a simple ritualistic combat to resolve disputes like this, wanna fuck with the Dark, boy?"Asked Menma with a grin.
On her neck Gwyndolin heard Manda whisper to pay close attention, this was what a real warrior looked like, she committed every action to memory. The flare of power, the stance, the way his lips were pulled into a vicious smirk and his eyes reflected hunger for blood or battle.
"I think airing grievances is a wonderful idea, Lord Menma." Said Gwynevere, a few choice words was all this would take, "Of course my Husband-to-be would be more than happy to prove why he's called the Flame God, yes?"
Flann managed to breath for a moment and nodded, "Of course, I'll put you in your place, cretin. Beneath my boot."
Menma wiggled his eyebrows, "Kinkey, fruitcake." Flann recoiled in disgust, "Nothin' like some good hairy man-lovin', eh?" Watching the way people reacted to jokes were the best part of shit-talking your opponent.
"You repugnant beast." Spat Flann, Menma just chuckled, the miasma subsiding.
"Would you like an audience, for this my lady or shall we smack each other senseless in private?" Gwynevere hummed to herself, there were up and downsides to both options, one could rally the hearts and minds of the humans due to the release of the Dark and destroy her betroathed's dignity, the other would keep his honor but would end up being little more than a schoolyard fight.
"We'll assemble the people I'm sure it will be a welcomed spectacle." Said Gwynevere, "To make it interesting, let us place a little weight to it, the winner gets a single request, within my power of course." That man, she thought looking to the three eyed Dark Lord, had made everything immensely easy. Goading Flann into one on one combat, anything could happen in an arena. And with so many witnesses no one could call foul play.
It was clean cut and cold blooded.
She could grow to be quite fond of this man, with great ease if he kept this up.
Anor Londo Amphitheater
Menma and Flann stood at either end of an arena that was usually used for plays and such, not gladiatorial combat, but it would serve its purpose. The Dark Lord and the Flame God stood across from one another, it was all rather dramatic just like Menma liked it.
He loved a good fight, but he loved theatrics more. He'd considered doing a spot of acting at some point, but infiltration missions were good enough during his youth. A rather tame flight of fancy when it came to things, but he had his hobbies.
He'd forgone a shirt and stuck with pants alone, he felt like clothing would just end up getting burnt off. This seemed to get several cat calls from the younger, bolder ladies in the crowd he responded to each one with wave and a wink, Flann looked quite irate, his face was as red as his hair.
"Take this seriously, swine." Snarled the man, Menma looked at him and smirked.
"You might want to try and calm down, Sparky. All that salt can't be good for your heart." Ha! Oh he was sad that joke was lost on everyone around him, one day Menma, you would find a BFF to shoot the shit with and the world would be right and fabulous.
Murder time now.
A bell chimed signaling the beginning of the bout, Flann conducted the flames that leapt from his body and shot streams of orange pain towards his foe, Menma lifted a hand his blue flame growing, and forming a wall of azure, the inferior flames of Flann fizzled on contact, Menma smirked as the azure wall turned into embers, the Flame God looked livid at this, his hair turning to fire as he leapt forward.
Menma flickered from view and appeared behind him, striking the god in the back of the head with his foot sending the god down like a sack of bricks, Flann skidded and crash, digging up a small trench as he did, Menma stood at the opposite end once more, arms crossed behind his back, the crowd cheered for the Dark Lord.
"Come on sweetheart, get up." Ordered Menma, smirking all the while, Flann growled before quickly getting up and releasing a torrent of flames, they bathed around Menma's body but the man didn't flinch, the populace gasped, but when the flames cleared Menma's body was protected by a shield of transparent, azure tinted air.
It was fire too hot to be seen by the naked eye, for clarification.
Menma responded by flooding the area around him with a light devouring darkness his third eye snapping open as he rushed the blowhard, before Flann could react Menma had struck him in the chin, sending him into the air, but instead of letting him sail, he grabbed his ankle and threw him onto the ground hard enough to bounce, with a ferocious kick he was sent up, unfortunately for Flann, Menma refused to allow the man to gain any kind of freedom.
Once more he grabbed his ankle and pulled him back towards himself, Menma struck the man in the chin, shattering his jaw, effectively turning his lower jaw to dust, Flann's limp form was tossed onto the ground, "Now to test how well it responds to my will."
Menma flexed his arms and stomped the ground, the dark dove into the earth and produced hundreds of spear shaped blades that turned Flann from a beaten corpse, into a soggy pile of diced meat, metaphorically speaking of course. The poor fucker was nothing if not hardy.
The Dark however, suffocated the man's fire, and he was left gasping for air, the dark blots that had formed on his body, he looked pale, horribly so.
Menma walked up to the man, the dark rolling off him like smoke, he placed a foot on Flann's chest, he looked up to the stands and saw Gwynevere, she had a small smile on her lips, the one she always wore in public, and she nodded.
All the Dark leaping about his form suddenly converged onto Menma's foot, he crushed Flann's ribcage and killed him by releasing the Dark directly into his Soul, the man turned to ashen mist the souls left behind leapt into Menma's body, a golden shimmering body of light left in its wake was consumed by the hungry Dark.
The crowd was silent for a moment, Menma tugged on them all, filling them with joy and rapturous delight, a standing ovation awaited him. He smiled and threw up his arms, three of the Four Knights watched with interest.
"He's dangerous. But not to us... I don't think." Said Ciaran, frowning.
"We'll find out, soon enough." Replied Ornstein.
Later That Night
Caution, chest ahead.
Orange was such a dickhead sometimes, he and was greeted by a very naked Gwynevere, her fingers walking up his chest as her pools of emerald stared into his cauldrons of molten gold, "Shall we consummate, our new pact... husband?" Menma was not a creature driven by his lust, he enjoyed sex to be true, but he was a man of his own mind.
And the mind could go fuck itself at this point, he was going to ravage this woman until both of them were comatose.
Pulling her close, his wings sunk into his back and his horns retreated, with a pleased growl at her delighted gasp he grinned hungrily, "Clear your calendar for the week, darling." Gwynevere laughed lightly, arms around his shoulders she pulled him close and locked lips.
Whether it was her kink or otherwise, she allowed Menma to take the lead. He'd never fucked a 'god' before, the purrs of Quela in his mind did remind him he'd flown close to that metaphorical sun, the irate calls for decency by Gwyndolin seemed only to spur him on.
Fun fact, the Princess of Sunlight? Complete and utter butt-slut.
The worlds clashed, light and dark striking one another in ecstasy.
They fucked like wild animals. The guards outside were both impressed and cripplingly jealous.
End of Chapter.
Don't worry, you fucking perverts. I'll write a proper sex scene at some point.
I know how you guys operate, don't try to deny it.
Raxychaz!