A/N: ...the people have spoken, guess this is becoming a story...for now.
In other news, For Love of a Witch and Shed No Grace on Me should be updated next.
As ever, the Embers rule remains. Meaning, if folks don't enjoy this I'll not continue it. Working two jobs leaves me with precious little time these days and I can't bear to write something no one likes. Moreover, I don't have the time to. So by all means, speak up! Every bit of feedback matters here! Truly, it does! That's no joke!
As ever, I own no references, quotes, memes or themes. Not a wit or a one. They're merely tributes to those far greater than I.
Now then, lets see how well our boy does starting from the bottom...
...and if he can claw his way to the top despite it all.
To clarify! This is set well before the Shattering.
"We are all born equal. Heaven does not create one person above or below another.
But while we are all equal at birth, things soon begin to change. Appearance. Effort. Personality.
Little things. Tiny things. But they all add up in the end, don't they? In the end, the Greater Will isn't the problem. Its people...
~A Wise Sage.
Omen of Change
Father.
Such a simple word.
Morgott didn't think himself worthy of such.
A simple dalliance with an unknown woman had led to this; to this babe wrapped in dirty swaddling cloth, even now nestled in his arms. An Omen, tried and true. Twin horns on his forehead, but nowhere else. The baby screamed, wailing in a loud, lusty cry. Perhaps at the unfairness of it all, of his circumstances, of his birth, of the Mother he'd never know. She'd died in childbirth. The boy would never know her. He felt a fresh pang of guilt for that. The sewers held life, meager though it was. Even an Omen had their needs. It had been a fleeting encounter, a moment of passion, of weakness, that had led to this.
Nine months later, and he still hadn't learned know her name. Now he never would.
Such was the way of things underground. Those thrown into the sewers as babes often came without names. Most discarded them, as they did their lives. Sometimes they chose new ones. Sometimes they didn't. He and his brother were the exceptions to this strange tradition. They'd known their names from the beginning; if only because of their lineage.
Ah, but a son!
The thought made is arms tighten around the squalling little bundle.
Perhaps the boy would yet choose a name for himself in time...if he lived.
Would he? The thought was a knife in his chest. Such a little life, a little light, easily snuffed out...
.
..
...to grow old down here was not a kindness. Not by any means.
It would be mercy to kill him. And still the lad cried!
Morgott scowled. "Hush, boy."
Incredibly, the mewling infant listened. He looked up at him with those blue eyes and he seemed to know, to understand the words. There was an ancient wisdom behind his gaze, that of a life already lived. He wasn't sure what made him think of such. He looked, and something in the boy spoke to him. There was power in him. Morgott could sense it, having always been sensitive to such things. There was strength here. Might, to uproot the old ways and away with the Golden Order in its entirety.
And, despite all it had done unto him and his, Morgott remained a loyal follower of the Order.
Not just a mercy to kill the Boy then, but perhaps a necessity, cruel though it may be.
Queen Marika -Mother!- would never suffer such a threat to her rule.
She would not simply kill this boy. The Greater Will would never allow it. That...thing would break him. Take him apart, see what it was that gave him this power. He would die a dozen deaths, yet still live. Death would be release...even if it pained him to do so.
His right arm rose. Conjured a dagger of gold light to his palm. Held it high, now.
The Boy kept staring at him. Watching. Waiting. He didn't make a sound.
Morgott's arm trembled, and his will went with it.
"Forgive me...!"
It would be quick. Painless, even. A good death. Yet he couldn't bring himself to bring his arm down. He should. He must. His every instinct was screaming at him, howling for him to end the Boy. Such a child could not be allowed to flourish. He knew that. Understood it.
So why couldn't he move?!
Five firm fingers wrapped around his wrist before he could find his resolve. "Hold, brother!"
The Omen craned his neck back to regard the speaker. He knew that voice. Loathed and loved it in equal measure. Only one would dare touch him so.
...what are you playing at, Mohg?"
"Hear me for but a moment." His twin grinned at him, still gripping his wrist. "Let the boy live."
In the end, Morgott could not deny his brother a chance to speak. Not even now. For all his flaws, they were still kin. They had been cast down into the sewers together, survived together, grown strong together. But that was where their similarities ended. Mohg reveled in his curse, delighted in the power he'd been granted, while Morgott wished for nothing more than a cure. His brother was quick with his silver tongue, and he, but a blunt instrument. His twin craved change while Morgott sought to remain in the here and now.
"Where you see a threat, I see potential." Mohg's voice was a low purr. "You know not what you do."
Morgott looked back to the squalling infant. "T'would be a mercy to end him now, I say."
Mohg disagreed with a shake of his horned head. "It would be cruel."
Morgott scoffed. "And who are you to speak of cruelty, brother? You and your Formless Mother delight in such debauchery!"
"Speak ill of my Goddess if you wish. I make no excuses." his darker half favored him with a selfsame smile and a shrug. "Nor have I ever pretended to be anything other than what I am...unlike you."
...so they were circling back to this, where they? "I know what I am. What you are. The Order was right to condemn us for our cursed blood. We are forsaken, the both of us. We deserve to rot down here, forgotten with the rest."
His twin flicked his fangs in admonishment. "And you would condemn your son, your own flesh and blood, to such a fate?"
Their eyes locked.
Morgott reached for his cane.
Mohg raised a hand. Scarlet light fled from his fingers.
Rather than strike him, that thin tendril of crimson miasma wrapped itself around the boy in Morgott's arm. He jerked back, but it was too late, the damage done. As he looked on aghast, it coalesced into a three-pronged scarlet sigil upon the little lad's forehead. The baby giggled at it.
Morgott rounded on him, teeth bared. "What have you done?"
"I?" his twin scoffed. "I have done my duty as his uncle and granted him the blessing of the Formless Mother." Mohg remained undaunted. "What have you given him save the promise of death?"
"...!"
His brother went a step further. "If you will not raise him, we shall."
Morgott reared back with a growl, clutching the boy to his chest and recoiling at the very idea. A child raised by Mohg? Unacceptable. Such would surely grown beyond his control and threaten the world above. The Formless Mother -and the Frenzied Flame beneath her- were not things to be trifled with. He imagined a boy commanding both and the very thought left him shivering. Nay. It could not be allowed. He said as much.
"Unacceptable!"
"Then rear him yourself, Brother." Mohg didn't touch his trident, but his gaze was shaprer than steel. "That is your only recourse. One way or another, I will see that boy survive. The Formless Mother has spoken to me. He has a purpose. A destiny. I will not let you deny him.
He gripped his cane.
...I could kill you, and then him as well."
"You could try," Mohg allowed, "But you won't. You're not that cruel."
Could he do this? Could he strike his own kin down in coldest of blood? The realization struck him. He'd been about to do the same to this boy. His own son. A pudgy hand caught at his ruined cloak, patting his chest. How odd. It almost felt as if the little one were trying to comfort him. Nonsense. T'was a baby. Whatever vision he might've seen of him was just that. A vision...wasn't it?
The moment of madness passed. "...he is my son. I shall raise him as mine own."
Moh's smile suggested he'd been angling for that all along. "A wish choice. This boy may yet be our salvation."
A flicker of dread stirred in Morgott's cold heart. Salvation? This boy might well be the ruin of all that their Mother -now the babe's grandmother!- aspired towards. That he was even entertaining this madness...!
And yet when he looked upon his Boy, his heart thawed. Perhaps...
Morgott stamped down on such thoughts. He would not fall prey to the flame of ambition. He would see this Boy live, yes, but he would teach him to be humble. Good. He would not name him. Such would be for him to find. He was born in the mud. He would live in the mud. Just like them.
Mohg clapped his shoulder, startling him from his maudlin thoughts with merry laughter. "Have some faith, brother. You've made the right choice."
"It is not the matter of faith that concerns me." Morgott sighed. It was a moment of weakness. Nothing more.
That moment of weakness would change the world.
But for better or worse? Who could say?
He knew what the boy was.
An Omen of Change.
(.0.0.0.)
The Boy grew under his watchful eye; steadily and surely.
With time came came knowledge.
But also sorrow.
(.0.0.0.)
"You have come far, my child."
Naruto pursed his lips. As ever he twitched a little at the voice; if only because it wasn't the one he knew. He wished it were.
Still, he appreciated the sentiment, misguided though it was.
"Not far enough," he muttered.
"Fair." A low, husky chuckle pervaded his thoughts. "Always reaching for new heights, aren't we?" he felt spectral fingers pat his hair and the mark on his forehead pulsed a baleful red. "'Tis an admirable quality in one so young."
Young, the Formless Mother said. Didn't feel like it.
Naruto cast a baleful look at his trousers. The ragged black cloth was fraying at the edges, little more than rags. He'd need new clothes, soon. They barely fit him, and his tunic wasn't in much better shape. Here he was, already, five years old and he was just growing too damn fast. He'd have to scrounge up something else to wear soon. Dad wouldn't provide them. Not because he wouldn't, but rather, because they lacked the resources. It didn't bother him. He'd begun with nothing once. He would do so again, if need be. He was no stranger to rebirth or reincarnation by this point, but even so it pained him to know what he'd lost.
Kurama was gone.
Just thinking of the fox's absence pained him beyond words. In place of that snarky voice inside his head, only she remained, a gift from Uncle Mohg. It just wasn't the same. He'd grown used to having the old fox around. Not just for his power, but his presence. His vast reserves lingered even in this strange new life, as did the accumulated knowledge of his techniques, yet he felt hollow inside. He still had full access to all his elemental combinations, and acquired bloodlines. Boil, Magnet, Lava and the like, yet he would've gladly traded them in an instant to have them back.
"I understand. I am a poor substitute for such a creature. You truly miss him, don't you?"
Naruto pursed his lips and dared a nod. "...I do."
"Understandable. He was your friend. It is not weakness to shed tears for him."
He sensed her lingering question, even if she didn't speak it. "But...?"
"But you are still here. In this second life. Why is this?"
True. If he really wanted to could've killed himself and gone to where Kurama was -assuming the old fox was dead in the first place!- but he hadn't now, had he? An he knew why. In good conscience he couldn't abandon this world, not when the people down here were suffering so.
"Ah." there the Formless Mother went, reading his mind again. "You seek atonement."
It felt damn strange having a goddess in his head, but at least she was good for conversation. That she could peer into his past so freely was...frankly a little concerning, but only that. She had no more control over him than he did her. The fact that his legs were still folded beneath him -his eyes stills screwed shut- was proof enough. Theirs was a symbiotic relationship, strange as it might sound. A chance to make amends, to do things better than he had in his first life. When he'd lost everything, everyone, all because of that wretched, nasty, vile OTSUTSUKI...!
Oops. he felt steam seething from his shoulders, caught the slip and reigned it in, taking a deep breath to center himself. Don't lose control.
He felt another spectral hand pat his shoulder. "You did everything you could, Naruto."
But he hadn't, had he? He should've kept up his training. Not slacked off.
"Can...can you not, right now? I don't want to think about the past.
...as you wish."
Another deep breath came and went, bringing him back to the center. The veins pulsing near his eyes receded as his temperature dropped. There. Better. Meditation helped to center him these days. Calm. He was calm. Centered. Wholly at peace...or as much peace as one could be down here in the depths. He wouldn't let his anger get the better of him. He'd do things right this time.
"And when you are of age?"
His brow furrowed. He kept his eyes closed. "Then I'll do something about this mess."
He had to. He must. He couldn't bear to see the Omens living like this. That he was one of them in this cycle was of no consequences; he still would've sought their salvation even if he were human. Five years down here in the dark had shown him much. Too much. These people -his people!- live in squallor, and for what? An accident of birth? They called it a curse, but it truth it was a blessing. Uncle Mohg was right. Their world wouldn't change unless someone made it change. He'd show them. He would show them all.
There were miles to go. And promises to keep.
"Very well." the Goddess hummed in his head. "I've been patient thus far. I can wait a little while longer."
A rusty chuckle escaped him "...you sound so certain."
"I've seen your memories, my champion. There is no one better suited to usher in a new age than thee." There it was again, the faint feeling of unseen arms embracing him as he continued his meditations. "Likewise, I have already claimed ye. You are mine. You simply haven't realized it yet.
"Why me?"
"Because you are more than a vessel. You were reborn into this world for a purpose and thus, embody change. My...rivals have goals of their own, but their vessels are lacking." she sounded almost bitter about that. "One seeks naught but Chaos. Another craves Order. One demands Rot. Some wish the Moon to reign. A few crave the return of Dragons. And yet more seek the endless darkness of Death. I aspire to greater things.
A blond brow rose, despite his shut eyes. "And that is?"
She hummed happily."A new dynasty. Ours."
Cheeky goddess.
His thoughts turned inward once more. In the absence of Kurama, he'd become more versatile; thrown himself into study, into learning every damn thing he could. Some might say he was lesser than he was before. Quite untrue. He was more, somehow. His once-tan skin was paler, not ghost white, but the shade of one who hadn't seen proper sunlight since his birth. His body, young though it was, brimmed with power and strength well beyond what a child of five should command.
He rubbed his horns absently, grumbling a little as they pricked his fingers.
"Feel like a freaking Otsutsuki with these...
A low chuckle. "Perhaps you are."
He snarled. "Don't say that."
"My apologies." He experienced a brief flash of someone; a pale, shapely woman with flowing dark-hair and sad green eyes staring out at him from the void. "I didn't intend to offend. I merely meant-
...just leave it."
She did, and gradually, Naruto turned back to his thoughts. He pitied them.
Not just the Omens, but everyone trapped in the underground. These sewers were no place to raise a family, yet what choice did they have. He'd seen others down here, other younger Omen who had chosen names for themselves in the absence of any true parent to raise. Titles like Maul or Razor, Savage and the like. Crude at best. It was all some of them had, their sole memory of sunlit-land they would never see. There were ways out of course, but each was carefully guarded...and Morgott was ever watchful. Many descended, but none went above without his say-so.
Strange folk snuck down to trade from time to time of course; odd fellows like Kale or Patches, those who knew hidden ways they were loathe to reveal.
Bit of an odd duck that last one, but not necessarily bad.
His ear twitched suddenly.
Faint shuffling footsteps reached him from a nearby tunnel. A blue eye creaked opened. What was this? A newcomer? Most were usually thrown down here as infants but every now again, someone came down of their own volition, seeking asylum and bringing tales of the world above. Perhaps a pilgrim...? The harsh stomp of heavy boots put paid to that thought and Aapained cry reverberated through the tunnel soon thereafter.
Well, well, well. A newcomer AND a hunter chasing them. In one day? Seemed his fortunes had changed.
Naruto righted himself and turned to face the mouth of the tunnel.
"Alright, what do we have
A small figure shot down the ladder at speed, all but throwing themselves off in their haste to escape their pursuer. They saw him and he saw them, caught a flash of white clothes and dark hair -wide yellow eyes!- then they were past him, hurtling deeper into the sewers. Something crashed down behind him, ignoring the ladder entirely. Naruto craned his neck back. Saw the grinning mask, those twisted cleavers in hand, and knew what it was he faced.
Omenkiller.
He'd seen Uncle Mohg slaughter one once before. They were monsters in the shape of men. Cold and unfeeling with no emotions. Tools pretending to be people.
Which meant he needn't feel guilty for what he was about to do. A spark of excitement kindled in his chest as he stepped forward.
"A chance to test yourself! Show him! Show the world you are not to be trifled with!
"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya."
A deep breath filled his lungs as he drew on the natural energy around him. There was so very little of it down here in the sewers. Enough for a minute at most. More than enough. His senses expanded and for a moment he could see everything, sense every being living down here, Omen, siren, albinauric and otherwise. His attention snapped back a moment later. Blue eyes stained a molten shade of gold, orange dust flecking his eyelids, lending them an eerie glow. Power surged through him, empowering his spindly frame. He reveled in it.
Grinning, he stepped forward, exhaled and uttered a single word. "Oi."
"...!"
The Omenkiller might be mindless, but it wasn't stupid; it reacted to sound and noise; heard his, turned away from its prey and rounded on him in turn. He beckoned once. It leaped. Bloody thing was fast. Terribly so, well beyond what a normal human should be capable of. Many an Omen had already fallen to those cruel horned cleavers.
Fortunately he was faster. Stronger, too.
Its first strike went wide, missing him by a narrow margin. "Don't suppose you'd be willing to back down?"
It swung at him with a wordless roar.
"Didn't think so." He swayed back with a lazy sigh, spine creaking as he let the twisted cleavers whistle past his head. "Hmm. Near miss."
Not up to his old level by any means, but then again this body was that of a five-year-old. Such discrepancies were to be expected. Pivoting on one heel, he smashed his heel again the monster's left knee, curious to see how his strength held up these days. Sure enough, the Omenkiller's well-padded limb bent with an awful crack. It doubled over, howling in pain. He caught it by the mask and smashed it into the floor. Hairline fractures spread through the stone, widening into fissures now as he pushed down on the twisted creature.
"Not so fun when your prey can fight back, is it?!"
A cleaver smashed into his side, only to be caught by a raging torrent of golden, spiky hair. Lion's Mane was a useful jutsu he'd seen Jiraiya use a time or two, against foes like these, it was all but effortless. Nor did he stop there. In a matter of moments, he had the cruel creature ensnared. For a moment -a silver of a second- he caught a dull flicker of surprise gleaming through the Omenkiller's mask, a faint spark of what was once humanity but now little more than a living doll. Doubtless it hadn't expected such a technique.
"That's right," whiskered cheeks dimpled in a savage smile. "You've never met an Omen like me."
This beast was pathetic.
Or so he thought, until it spat fire in his face.
The Formless Mother hissed in his head. "Wretched thing!"
.
..
...it didn't even tickle Naruto. Made him feel nice and toasty, really.
Gold eyes narrowed in mild exasperation "Is that all you can do?" he leaned out the flames, utterly unscathed. "I expected more."
The omenkiller snarled and swung at him with its remaining cleaver. No tact. No subtlety whatsoever. Only brute strength.
Naruto reached up, then around as though swatting an errant fly. The cleaver settled snugly against his palm.
"Enough games." A simple squeeze shattered the weapon entirely, peppering him with jagged debris. "Put these foolish ambitions to rest."
The Omenkiller gurgled in confusion, then pain as his snapped his head to the right. His jagged hair reacted accordingly, slamming his prey into the vaulted ceiling above. All that armor availed it naught. An audible crunch of broken bone reached his ears. He whipped his neck to the left, using his hair as one might a whip. His prey caromed off a wall, now. Followed by the floor. Ceiling again A wall once more. Over and over. Again and again in timely succession. Back and forth he flailed, almost dancing in place as his long locks thrashed the mindless brute every which way.
Finally, he let it fall. Its broken body collapsed int a pool of blood.
"Now," he considered, "What to do with you...
"Break him! Tear him apart!
'Someone's a sadist today. I still need his head for a trophy.'
"I mind not-oh!"
The Omenkiller surged up and threw itself at them, clawing for their throat.
Bloodflame sparked in his grasp as the fingers of his right hand curled into a cruel claw. He held it for a moment, let it sizzle there awhile as the manbeast blitzed him in mindless wroth. Counted to three, now, waited until the very last moment...and flung the crimson cloud his way with a contemptuous flick of the wrist.
A human foe -or any rational being- would've seen the incantation and dodged aside.
Alas, an Omenkiller wasn't human. The dumb brute blitzed right through it, fixated on him and nothing else. The spell ignited a moment later, bathing the beast in bloody napalm. Naruto pivoted on one heel, let it stumble on past, then smashed a Rasengan into its back for good measure. A tortured wail filled his ears as it went down. No emotions didn't mean no pain. Heartless or not, the living bled like any other.
It sank down onto hands hand knees. Perfect.
His left hand clenched and conjured a massive hammer forged from purest gold light. Morgott's trademark, taught him only after much cajoling. Now that Giant Crusher swung down and splintered the beast's remaining knee. Blood flew across the air to spatter across his face. The bloody loss only strengthened him. His prey cried out. He hardened his heart to it. This thing wasn't human; it would have shown him no more mercy than he would have given it.
Such was the way of the underground. Kill or be killed.
Some might say it was cruel to torture someone in such a way. Naruto rather disagreed. In his eyes, there was nothing sweeter than tearing down those who sought to avail themselves of the weak. The cruel. The twisted. Those who thrived on pain and torment. An Omenkiller was just such a creature, a mindless weapon capable only of being aimed in a given direction, then let loose. Someone must've sent it down here. No matter. He'd find its master and kill them, too. Might help to know their identity, though...
He paused just short of killing it. Grabbed it by the mask. Hauled it upright. "Who sent you here?"
It growled...and surprised him with garbled speech. "All Omens...must die."
"I've heard that one before." he jostled it with a scowl. "Who sent you?"
"All...Omens...must die."
Broken record, this one. "Last chance. Tell me, and I'll grant you a peaceful death."
"All Omens...Must...Die."
In a fit of pique, Naruto yanked the mask off. The face beneath had him jerking back with a yelp; the creature was barely human at all anymore, all scarred skin, dead black eyes and a thin slit for lips. He couldn't bear to look at it. All the while that twisted visage grinned at him, chanting those wretched words like a mantra.
"Die, die, die!" The lunatic grinned at him, mad to the last. "They'll all die! All of you will die!" spittle frothed at the thing's mouth. "Every last Omen! Even the women and children! All will die~!"
His eyes flashed. "You first."
The golden Giant Crusher screamed down in a circular swing.
Blood spattered the floor. A head rolled. A body twitched once and fell still.
Naruto planted his conjured hammer in the ground, took a breath to center himself, then bent to retrieved the man's fallen mask. A trophy; perhaps the first of many. Maybe living down here had made him cruel. Perhaps he'd always had this side of himself, and losing Kurama had simply sharpened it. Who could say?
The Formless Mother prodded him. "Don't forget the runaway."
...right."
Naruto craned his neck, spied a trail of blood leading away from the scene. Wasn't hard to find.
He followed it, rounded the bend...and saw them.
"Oh."
His heart twisted as he beheld the creature's victim at last, found her curled up in a corner, bony quivering knees tucked into her chest. A girl -maybe six or seven at a glance- clad in a torn white shift. Bloodied shoulders hunched down when he drew near, trying to make herself seem smaller somehow. Idly he noted a brilliant pair of bone-white horns upon her head, one to each side of her skull, curling through long dark hair toward her forehead before tapering off just above her eyes. And what strange eyes they were. Wide, gold, and slitted like those of a cat. So the girl was an Omen after all. Not surprising.
"Stay back!" She bared her teeth at him in a snarl when he dared a single step forward. "Don't come any closer, or I'll curse you!"
"You're alright." he dispelled his hammer and held up a hand. "That thing's not going to hurt you anymore."
The girl looked past him. Saw the corpse, and the mask in his hand. "You...You killed it...?"
"Yup." he smacked his lips, producing an audible pop. "That a problem?"
"No!" Her face creased in a murderous scowl. "I hope it hurt!"
...alright, that was an awful lot of anger to unpack there, but he knew better than to pry right now. Something told him the girl wouldn't take kindly to it just yet...or asking after the wounds on her arms. She must've had horns there too, once upon a time. Poor thing. The pain she might be in.
He dropped the mask and knelt before her, careful to keep his hands in full view at all times. "What's your name?"
"Name?" The anger dulled for a moment. She shook her head. "Don't have one. They never gave me a name. "I ran down here. That thing chased me."
"You till haven't answered my question." His brow furrowed. "Who's they?"
Her mouth sealed shut, refusing to answer. No dice.
"Well, if you need a name...
Naruto pinched the bridge of his nose and wracked his mind. It wasn't the first time he'd named a newcomer, but he'd always been pants when it came to stuff like this. It would have to be something short and succinct, easily remembered. Something simple. Something that reminded him of his own name...
"Albedo, then." He declared, watching her jolt a little. "Come with me. I'll take you somewhere save.
"Why...?" she squinted up at him fearfully. "Why help someone like me? Who are you?"
Naruto's lips parted in a small smile.
He held a hand out.
Omen of Change.
A/N: Aaaaand scene.
Hope this put a smile on your face.
Well? Should this be a story? Yay or nay? Your input determine's this story's fate~!
To be clear! The girl is clearly a reference to THAT Albedo. Wanted to do a tasteful reference without cramming unnecessary things in. Frankly anyone with proper horns has potential to be an Omen, but I'm not flooding this story with characters from different franchises.
Once more, we're sticking with the "Embers" rule for this particular story, and others.
If folks don't like this, it won't be continued. Meaning that if the story itself ain't popular? POOF! Gone. Completely. I'm working two jobs -might need a third soon!- so I barely have time to write; as such, I cannot afford to write something folks don't enjoy. So by all means, speak up! Your voice matters! Make yourself heard! As ever, reviews are the fuel that sustain me. Without them I cannot write a single word. Simple as that. Working nearly all hours of the day keep me absurdly busy, and I can't bring myself to write something folks don't like.
Aaaand there we go. As ever, reviews keep me alive. Without them, I cannot write. So...in the Immortal Words of Atlas...
...Review...Would You Kindly?
Here, have some previews.
And as ever:
WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!
READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!
HERE BE SPOILERS!
(Preview)
Reincarnation sucked. He had his skills, his memories, but not the body to wield them properly. He'd have to build himself back up.
"You forget, I am a goddess." The Formless Mother cooed in his ear, her voice the darkest seduction. "Eternal. Ever changing. I can whatever you want me to be. Take as many lovers or wives as you wish. But I shall be your unforgettable first.
Albedo squirmed in place, knees twisting from side to side. Clearly she expected praise.
He palmed his face. "Good job."
Her grin was too pure.
Morgott watched his son train a moment more. This little lad, so smart, so clever, so quick with his silver tongue...it was rare to see him falter in something.
Finally, he sighed. "Well, thou art of passing skill. Warrior blood must truly run in thy veins...but that is not how you wield a sword.
The Boy perked up. "Show me?"
...very well.
"Why are you crying? This is your doing. You said it yourself; you'd rather feel pain yourself than inflict it. You choose to be neutral.
But you know what happens when you play both sides?
In the end, everybody loses.
This is the result."
He grinned.
"What fun, what fun~!
Then he was among them, ripping and tearing.
"Uncle Mohg!"
The one-eyed Omen sputtered.
"Blast it, boy! Don't sneak up on me like that!"
"You truly fear nothing, don't you? Not the Formless Mother, nor the Frenzied Flame, nor even the Greater Will...
There were other Omen in the sewers. Children, just like him.
The boy soon made friends. One. By. One.
In time, they would become his army.
You've learned a lesson few seem to grasp. Sometimes, to protect one thing, you have to have the resolve to let go of another.
You're not weak. Break your chains. Even if your decision is wrong, its your decision. You started this, after all."
I'm not wrong. What's wrong is this messed up world! And I'm gonna fix it.
R&R~!