Speech =``...´´
Thoughts = [….….]
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Fenrir was fire itself, and he revelled in it! The world screamed his name, boomed it across the blacken sky, whispered it in every breath and heart and beat.
Death! He had become Death..!
He had quelled Death with his bare hands and now brought it with him with every stroke of his blades. He could feel it throb inside him, he could feel it burst and spams between his finger tips, he could feel it descending with each and every drop of water and spark of lightning that flew across the air.
``Is over, is fucking over for you bastard, this...THIS IS MY TIME!´´
Fenrir was the greatest battle-master the Cult of Diabolos had ever known, and now that was plain to see before the eyes of all!
His men and the Cult would end up triumphant this day, and it would be because he was not found wanting, because he was meant to be the blazing sword which tore and cleaved the foes of the cult. He was the cleansing tide that would purge this world of any threat to his dreams and aspirations, no matter the cost.
No longer would he play or tolerate to be played by the bastard that had challenge him and shamed him beyond measure.
Now it had come the time to extinguish the weak, the foolish and the opportunist!
And though he now had his two arms to fight with, his blade moved now at least as trice as quickly than ever before, speeding fast enough at times to occupy the space of a hundred blades in a second.
``I am fucking invisible..!´´
He roared at the top of his lungs, skipping and leaping back and forth against his foe and the after images that had been made through out their battle. Visions that were as real and dangerous as the original.
He danced between them, natural talent and the infused power of the Demons blood and the cults work for a thousand years finally paying off, adding a much needed help to his magnificent combat experience that he had honed through a thousand battles. Commingly into display of push and pull he knew he would WIN!
``You cant beat me any longer..!No one can..!´´
He laughed, his lips widen in an abysmal smirk, eyes glinting with malice as he dodged the razor edge of the scythe that came to him from his left, before cocking his head to the side as he dodged the bursting, mind melting sound of ballistic rounds the size of his head being fired just right next to him.
He could see realiy slow down around him, he could feel a thousand heartbeats inside his skull of every living being in this kingdom and beyond. He could hear time and space tearing apart as magic blasts of energy boomed with each clash of their weapons.
He was exulted...
But not everything were sunshine's and rainbows, their movements and techniques were still hard to keep pace with, like liquid steel, hardening to strike him before melting to avoid his counter strikes with unnatural speed and precision.
Claws, blades and guns moving faster and faster to not only keep pace, but surpass his own…
Buildings were torn asunder, streets turned into powder as their moves tore through them, landing under the flooded undergrounds of the sewers before they slammed their way up once more like a pair of bulldozers unleashed in a porcelain shop.
The man did not reply at his words, did not rose to the bait of his barks, keeping silent and merely glaring at him with those unblinking burning coals he had attached in his eye-sockets, the wheezing sound of air being pushed down through those ancient, bloodstained filters.
He grinded his teeth, rage swirling inside him even more, aggravated by the silence rather than the titanic world bending slashes that he was still struggling to push through. The sheer amount of adrenaline pumping through his heart and the magic coursing through his veins that would have killed a dozen elite knights barely making him feel the nicks, cuts and bruises he had earned since renewing his vigour with the power of a god.
The nerve of that man.
If he thought he was scared of him his attempts were for naught, for he could not fear anything, for he was Fear itself! And he would inflict himself into the fool who dared still confront him with his arrogance.
He would fall!
He would suffer!
He would LOSE!
``DIE already you bastard and join the souls of the fallen like every other failure in history..!´´
His war cry echoed in tandem with the brutal thundering of the skies that broke down above him, lighting coursing through the heavens and smashing like pillars of light into the ground, burning and scorching everything they touched. His eyes gleaming with murderous intent that could have rivalled a sun on their own.
He spun in the air, a blur of violence that tore through the air like a shrieking revenant that descended upon their prey with the gnarling certainty that only death would be dispensed on those foolish enough to be his target, a task that appeared more and more possible as his blades slashed through the molecules, tethered by invisible threads of his mind, pulling them back and forth to attack and slash at command.
CLAANG...!
CLAANG...!
CLAANG...!
The sound of their steel clashing send shock-waves through half the kingdom, the air whirling like a hurricane and fleeing from them as the rain became nothing but a wayward memory of the past with each savage strike, replaced with the bright, molten light of magic burning up and splashing everywhere like molten, explosive magma that burn through rock and stone like an army of gigant termites.
He could feel his bones shudder, his muscles bleed and his veins boiling up inside him, threatening to burst like balloons that had been crushed under a carriage.
But he did not give up….
Instead he pushed on, like a madman! He could already taste victory in his eyes, he could already see the final strike a million times inside his mind. And above all things, he could not believe, nor would allow defeat...
For this man he fought, in his very own eyes disgusted the ancient Diabolos cultist battle-master…
He had tried to assassinate him, he had tried to deceive him with his tricks to attack and take his domain from him like a schemer, no better than that worm of pathos.
But if he was honest with himself, he hated the silence he was offering to him.
A warrior had to be thrilled by fighting, to spat out in rage or delight when their blades collided with a strong and worthy foe. To feel the pain and to give it in combat, that unknown language that every man and woman who lived by the sword knew until their very end.
But this man was silent…, cold and unresponsive. He was sure that not a word had been uttered, real or imaginary from the towering figure clad in black.
And that angered him to no end.
He would accept this! He would not allow this soulless thing to make a mockery of Fighting! Where was the joy of a battle hard-won? The excitement of testing ones own mettle against the odds? The purity of war in those eyes that craved for it? In his stance the fidgeting question whether his next strike would be his last or not?
But there was nothing….
Nothing!
And he hated that.., he hated that more than anything.
It was like he was fighting a shadow….
And there came that fickle voice at the back of his head, whispering callous words that he refused to believe, yet they never left him as his eyes eyed the man he was trying to skewer like a pig while simultaneously pushing away just barely the supersonic projectiles blasted from the edge of a six barrel shotgun which his insides had become rather well acquainted by then.
It was one thing for a man to be resilient…
It was another for him to seem effectively unaffected by the growing patchwork of wounds which were being inflicted on him.
He had hit him!
He had struck at the man, no…, this thing! He was sure of it! Not just his magical blast at his skull like face, but cutting him and stabbing him as-well.
And yet whatever agony, pain, or even any show of weakness he was waiting for where dashed into the winds with each mad, world tearing strike.
Had he looked down at the blade he would have seen that it had a few visible dents at the tip, and that the blood that it was covered in was his own...
He pushed back one, and cut through the other three as he put his all into the manoeuvrer, ignoring the way his brain started to turn to mush and his muscle fibre burnt out in the process that he forced his body to move at even a speed close enough to match those bullets.
. But the other two flew onto the target, digging inside him like massive fist of iron and tearing through him like paper. Ribs were shatter and organs punctured,
But he did not cry out in pain, he did not stumble back or made any attempt to retreat as he felt his guts pour out through the holes, he did not knelt into the ground as the pain flowed through him like a rabid cancerous decease as rot, melting bone and flesh mixed painfully with the magic trying to regenerate his body.
Because now, the pain they inflicted on him, only made him stronger. Fuel for his waning strength.
Something that he put to use as his blood crystallized and exploded violently a few seconds later.
Pushing him forward like a bolt, spinning through the air with the grace of a feather yet the voracity of a lion before slamming his free hand, clenched into a tight fist into the waiting hand of the after-image. Doing no damage whatsoever, but managing to throw him off the crumbling roof that he stood.
He did not waste a single second in watching it fall, cocking his neck to the side with inhuman speed as he dodged the scythe from cleaving his head in two, feeling its cold kiss along the half side of his face, reaping and gnawing at his left cheek mercilessly, exposing the muscle and teeth beneath the rip out skin as if it was nothing more than the skin of a potato that was being peeled of.
And yet, failing to full fill its task to kill him, and now, allowing him to deliver a blow like no other with the sword cracking in his hand with all the power he could muster into its now dented and battered form of the blade.
Turning his sword into another Bomb! One that he drops away just a millimetre before taking contact with its intended target, just in time to warp a small shield around him.
He would need it, for this time the entire avenue was blown away into dust. His body flung back away like a puppet whose string had been cut and then tossed into a tornado.
Debris and dust flew to the heavens, disappearing into the shrouded darkness before coming back thanks to mother gravity touch, showering the remaining streets and houses with chunks of rock and cobblestones the size of doors.
Blood was slipping down his ears, the scarlet tide mixing with the sweat and grime in his body. Speaking of the fact that both of his ear drums had burst like balloons.
His eyes were unfocused at first, fighting back the grinding sensation of having a drill work into his skull.
``Take that you son of a whore! How does it feel? How does it feel, eh!?´´
He spatted half growled as he tried to regain his breath between the ragged sensation of his organs bleeding inside, he would not be able to grin much longer when he found himself kneeling down and vomiting on the ground a blob of blood on the dusty, cracked ground..
The red ichor sliding down his chin, leaving the metallic taste to remain a while longer in his mind while his eyes ached terribly by the amount of dust concentrated in the air, forcing him to shut them for a moment.
By the time he open them up they were bleeding, creating a pair of arterial tear streaks down his cheeks..
``You were nothing, you heard me..!? Nothing! Just another kill in my belt, another soul to scream my name in the other side, I w-..´´
Much to his dismay his words died out in his throat, the swiftness of their coming turning into a bloody mess as they clung to his throat like harpoons or weights attached to his vocal cords and tearing them up with a single pull.
The reason simple as the monster merely walked through the smoke and dust like nothing...
Not limping..
Not stumbling…
He was just there, walking with no sign or shred of damage or pain…
He took a step back, then another. His legs trembling against his wishes. No.., that could not be. It was impossible..! Nothing, nothing should have been able to survive that, let alone come out unscathed. His tune unchanged, his demeanour static like before.
It felt like the skull bastard was walking down for the grocery's instead of the greatest battle of all mankind!
His bleeding eyes threatened to pop up from their sockets as he remained lost in bewilderment, his mouth hanging open, gawking like a fool…...
It was too much.., it was just….too much for him to handle in that moment as something snapped inside him.
A line of comfort he had drawn so long ago…, and then there was nothing but madness, shame and more bloodlust driving him on.
Taking the reins of what he was...
``Tell me, if I take your mask will it hurt..!? Will it make you bleed!? Eh!? Answer MEEEE..!´´
He roared both in dismay and incredulity before he found himself once again dashing towards him and meeting blades once more in the spam of a second. Never before he had run so fast in his life.
Nor that he would be able to do it again soon enough….
The masked man merely scoffed through the filters as he pushed him back, more like shoving him the same way an adult would push a five year old stuck hugging their leg before leaping into the air as the scythe became nothing but a blur of lights and shadows between his fingers while a barrage of fire sprout from both above and below as the two figures open fire at the same time.
Reminding him the ugly truth that the other apparition had come back...
He gritted his teeth, realizing in the snap of the moment what they intended.
They wanted him to block...
It was a good move, and the proper reaction was to doge or block..., to put some distance between him and them and dash again with even more speed. But he would not…
He would not fall back, he would not run…, he would only KILL..! And so he needed to be faster..!
Something that he did not request, but commanded to his body to do so as his blood became fire and lightning. Wreaking havoc in his insides, but the thrill of battle and the rage inside him proved to be a hell of an anaesthetic
His eyes locking onto the cold, unblinking fires of his assailant that glinted under the fickle gushes of wind of the storm, but his were no longer dark and dull, but glowed just like the towering man with a deep searing shade of sparking red.
He appeared not affected by the predatory glare he had sent the man, he however sensed the shift in the man's feet as he was met with the renew onslaught of Fenrirs flurrying strikes and lunges. It was that his speed that his very presence was creating ruptures through the air, creating his own kind of heat induced momentum.
He however never lost sight of the other combatant as he threw himself for the true target. The other apparition wanting to search for an opening, a break of a millisecond in his wild, mad tide of cuts and slashes.
But he would not give it, summoning a tide of swords and wind that would have crumble any wall it would crash upon. He grunted, loudly, unable to speak as he started to spin in the air. Over and over again, never stopping, never relenting as he built momentum inside the small hurricane he became.
Spinning through the air, using the blade he clenched tightly between his grasp as tightly as humanly possible he abused the molecules of air between him and his target. The energy coming out from him mixed then with a random strike of lightning, red and blue glowed brightly, like a small star being given birth in the middle of a war zone...,
And then he struck.
Slamming down onto those hateful red eyes, with all the momentum and strength he could muster, with all the physical exertion he could push his body and beyond to deliver the most simple yet deadliest swings he had ever done in his life.
The source of his hatred did not move..
Fenrir could feel his heart shake inside him, time slowing down to a crawl as he witnessed the razor edge cut through the air, his breath hitching in his throat before something else started to take place inside him.
Then he hit..
``CRRRRAAAACCCCCK..!´´
It was beautiful…, the way the energy was dispelled down into those waiting burning coals like a fire-hose spraying highly explosive and destructive energy into that waiting face could not be overstated. Only sweetening with the sound of everything around him shuddering and crumbling as he felt his blade strike true into something truly massiv, heavy...and old..
He felt his heart flutter.
He had done it…
This time he had, no one would dispute that with him. Not fate, not the gods...and surely not this unholy monster!
Yes.., he had done it..
He really had..OH FUCK!
He cursed internally when he finally realized that his blade had not struck where he wanted, that it was not bathing in the warm, sweet flesh and blood of the hulking warrior. That his sword had not even managed to reach nowhere close he had believed was the best zone the crack an egg as stubborn as this scythe wielding bastard.
And the worst of all? He had stopped his blade with only two hooked fingers…
Two. Fucking. Fingers….
The two hooked things posed in a v position, and lazily catching his blade like nothing and not letting it go as if they were holding in a vice like grip..
Once again, there was not even a shred of damage in the man he had tried to murder into oblivion. Whatever blood he had it was from his previous time feasting on his useless underlings.
The irony that those weak, useless cretins meant for cannon fodder had put their mark in this maker of carnage was lost on him.
[I-IMPOSSIBLE...!]
He screamed inside him, a myriad of emotions floating and coming and going behind the depths of his eyes as his brain broke in two, unable to comprehend the sheer absurdity of it all.
Anger, rage, shock, surprise…..and fear.
So much fear.
That was why he could see in time the darkness wrapping around the other free arm of the man, why he could barely react as a massive chainsaw appeared from that dark mist, nor he was capable to put a stop to it when he felt not one, but two of those things lance through his body with ease.
Back and front…
Protruding through his flesh like sharks in a dark red ocean, his blood tainting and drenching the myriad of sharp teeth the machines had all along their lengths…
And then they started to work.
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A/N
Poor Fenrir, he believed he was the main character for a moment when he doesn't even know he is in borrow time, chipping away so fast.…
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I wonder how the kingdom is going to afford to pay for the reparations of all the infrastructure they are just demolishing like houses of cards, yet again...is not like we are going to delve that deeply into that scary rabbit hole, are we? Are we..?
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When Alpha? Don't worry, she is cosy in the hammer-space, a certain someone needs to die first before a certain someone remembers that she is there. A lot has happened in just one day so perhaps we can give him some slack.