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A former hero finds his true calling. |
Jealousy.. Anger.. Hatred.. She had betrayed him, Imperial had made him an outcast. These emotions filled Kent's heart as he trudged through the dark, rainy, woods. His mud-caked boots splashed through puddles as he made his way. Throughout his life he had beamed confidence, head always up. His friends gone, he felt barren. Now his gait had a halt to it, his steps heavy and his eyes gazing at the ground. The trees became sparse, it gradually brightened as he neared the treeline. Kent noticed a change immediately, he lifted his head. A lone figure in the distance rode a pale horse. Kent squinted, the rain grew in intensity. The rider turned in his direction, urged his mount forward. Kent sighed, waiting. Tekstone.. That onyx robe that managed to have an eerie white glow..even in the dense rain it was impossible to miss. Kent straightened his back as the priest neared him, reaching his full height and his shoulders spreading. Even in his dirty white robe, he was an imposing sight. The Tekstone dismounted, Kent brushed his long bangs behind his ear. "Kneel and praise Dennac or die, weakling," spat the dark priest. Kent stood there, staring at him with a sad, bored look upon his unshaven face. Memories of past battles flooded through his mind, he knew how he was going to handle this arrogant stranger. An empowered scepter swung at Kent's head, he leaned back calmly, watched the movement of its shaft and grabbed it with his left hand. He pulled down, hard. Kent fell to the ground, in complete control. Landing on his right arm, his bicep bulging, he continued the motion, planted his muddy boot into the tekstone's stomach and used the gathered momentum to heave him into the air. That tattoo.. It was only as he was flying above the tall grass that he realized his mistake, he had challenged the King of Hearts, Kent Strider. Slam. The priest's back made a sickening sound as he smashed into the ground, he had landed on an apple- sized rock. Kent looked up at the sky as he waited for him to stand, the black scepter's dark gift burning his hand. Pain..he felt it, but couldn't muster the ability to care. He turned to the dark priest, facing the rain now and having to blink occasionally. A pain entered Kent's mind, he heard the constant piercing noise that reminded so much a headache. Only this pain came with a deep, twisted voice. Kill the unworthy. I want him to suffer for being so weak. Do it. Tear off his head so I can hear every last vein, muscle, and bone pull apart so slowly.. "Shut up," Kent muttered as he held the side of his head with his right hand. The tekstone charged, Kent grumbled and dropped the scepter, prefering to beat him to death with his fists. He jabbed with his left, Kent swayed from it, bended his knees, rotated his torso and backhanded him with such intensity that two teeth flew from his mouth. Before he could drop, Kent snatched the neck of his robe. And now he beat his face to a bloody pulp, blood spraying from his face, crimson drops floating in the air for a brief instant, before being destroyed by the countless raindrops. The poor man's blue eyes began to roll, Kent decided to end it. He released his robe, let him drop. Then he yanked up his legs, placed them on his shoulders, and finally plummeted to the hard ground in a viciously-angled powerbomb. His spine snapped quite audibly, the back of his skull went smoosh and blood spattered the grass. Standing up, Kent sighed once more, truly bored. Kent Strider.. You've seen what every religion is like, you know they all turn on you eventually.. I am no merciful god, the weak get punished.. But the strong.. You, I will not hesitate to give you a taste of true power. Swear that your soul belongs to me for all eternity. You'll only regret it if you fail me. He looked up at the sky, eyes wide open, taking every last drop that splashed against his cornea. I'm so sad..and I have no tears. Vision blurry, he flexed his right hand, stared at his magnificient tattoo and said in a flat tone, "Whatever, I'm yours." Kent screamed the next moment, he thought he had known pain, every last cut, bruise and break in his lifetime had been blissful ignorance compared to now. His blue irises almost vanished, his pupils went wide, giving them the appearance of black eyes. Kent's throat was already raw, but it seemed like paradise, every fiber of his being felt like it was stretching, shrinking, breaking. Arms at his sides, every muscle tense and flexed, he fell silent. Those fives seconds had felt like hours. You're less than human now..your old body wouldn't have been able to endure this power.. Kent? I hope it fucking hurt. Now go and spread my glorious chaos. |