POV Harold Winsten

The air shook with the fury of his mighty battle cry. Harold found himself standing in front of a natural disaster waiting to occur. Knowing, he had to face it head on or his loss was imminent. Much to his great frustration, he recognized the power in his opponent was massive, to say the least. The only silver lining, the massive Raug looked clumsy as he covered the gap between them in two enormous steps. Yet, the baleful aura and pure strength exuded at that moment made up for his deficiencies.

Drawing from his massive experience, he lowered his center of gravity, widened his stance. Then bent his knees. Making himself as small as possible. Using his Tower of Might skill, he raised his shield at an angle. Sliding his left foot forward and to the right. As the enormous sword dropped like a meteorite, it hit Harold's shield with an unyielding force. Using the momentum of the blade against itself, he pushed his angled shield up, forcing the enormous blade to slide down its rough exterior.

But, at that moment, Harold was shaken by the incredible strength. Forced a step back, he found no chance to strike. Gathering his composure, he forced himself back into a compact form. The Raug used this time to swing an upward slashing attack. Attempting to make him lose balance and end the battle in two strikes.

Understanding the vast difference in strength, Harold tilted his shield in a forty-five-degree angle, where he pushed the lower part out, and the top towards him. Parrying with a grunt of effort, he spun with his sword prepared for a downward slash. Keeping his shield in front of his opponent's blade lest he is cut in half.

Screaming in effort, he swung with as much force as he could. Using his inherited skill, Strengthen, he bolstered his strength for a second. Using his battle energy wisely, he knew he could not use both Tower of Might and his Strengthen skill for an extended period of time together. So, he chose to use Strengthen in timed bursts for efficiency.

As he slashed, the Raug used the metal outgrowth on his forearms to block the incoming attack. Yet, it was not enough to stop Harold's blade from drawing blood. Hoping to follow up on his attack, he prepared to strike again but jumped back as far as possible with urgency. Having felt mana gathering in front of him. He tried to cover himself entirely with his shield.

As he was jumping back, a massive amount of mana was gathered on his opponent's hand. Within a second of time from hiding behind his shield, an inferno of fire was blasted towards him. The edges of the flame licked upon his armor; their heat, palpable.

Just as the Raug was about to charge at him again, A strong voice sounded out clearly.

"STOP!"

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"STOP!" A voice sounded out like an echo in his foggy mind. Azeal broke out of the trance he was in just a second ago. Coming to a dead stop, he lowered his head, staring at his hands. Something was freed; opened to the world. He felt afraid, worried about the consequences of this quick spar. Terrified at his complete lack of control, his eye's glazed. Anxious at the sudden change, he excused himself.

Walking towards his tent, he could not help but feel the awe, that was coming out of everyone that watched the fight, in waves. As he looked around, he saw the many shades of emotions, as if they were a tangible thing. They came from all parts of the spectrum; fear, joy, sadness, but most unusual was a single person with great anger. Anger that flew in droves. Unaccustomed to seeing the sources of such emotions, he hurried his steps to get away as fast as possible. How he was suddenly seeing it all, he did not know.

But what he did know… He would be driven insane at the sheer intricacy of it all.

Finally reaching his tent, he forcefully pushed his way in. Stumbling at how much information he was suddenly receiving. Every moment he focused on them, the more they became; an unending font constantly growing. Yet, he could not pull his eye's away from the pure beauty of it all.

Knowing he would become addicted to it, he shut his eyes with a tremendous effort. Forcing himself, he sat down to meditate. To find some sort of balance to this suffering. Something that was at least bearable. Trying his utmost best to force away the 'second sight'. For a long period of time, nothing changed. But as he was holding on to the tiniest of ropes tied to his sanity, he finally broke through the amalgamation of emotions it had all become.

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'Ding'

System –

Skill –

Blind Emotion - High Tiered (High)

Power gained is Power paid – Until the Price is adequate you will not have the right to use this skill. It may cost much, but to many, it is worth the price paid. Is that true for you?

- Locked – three conditions must be met -

- Condition 1 – 'The simplest of the three, it is not a price, but a confirmation of your ability.'

- Face an opponent a minimum of twenty-five levels above you and not die.

- Unlocked - Emotion Sight - You sense all emotions, every ounce of joy, sadness, and hate. Here you must find balance, for failing to will destroy your weakened mind. Making you nothing more than an insane creature, having lost all modicum of thought. But, if you make it past the pain and suffering, then rejoice in the glory of your success!

- Condition 2 – '…'

- Condition 3 – '…'

Feeling inexplicably tired, he broke down at the pain and insanity he had to go through. Quietly sobbing to himself. Feeling broken by it all. No, the power was not worth it in his eyes; it was not worth feeling a thousand hooks tear into his mind, their numbers always growing. Such pain was not meant to be experienced by a normal person. He lived in an age were great mental fortitude and willpower were not required to live a good life; a peaceful existence. Though stress was a great factor in his dealings with work and family, he had lived a comfortable life compared to many people in third world countries. Then again, even they would not be tortured in such a way.

Opening his eyes, he noticed that they had become crusted. Rubbing them with his hands, he finally got them to open. The first thing he noticed was his hands had a faded color of red. Reaching up, he touched around his eyes, to find what had crusted over his eyes were not the tears he sheds, but the blood that oozed out as he fought for his sanity. How long it had been, he did not know; nor did it matter to him.

Bringing both trembling hands up, his back was bent forward. Droplets falling onto their open palms. He clenched them into fists. Promising to himself, to never give up. To never fall into despair and misery. No matter how hard it becomes.

He had a home to build… A future family to take care of… He will not pass on until he made an eternal fortress to keep them safe.

For the rest of the night, Azeal cried. Until his hulking form finally fell asleep from exhaustion.

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Unbeknownst to Azeal, Fenia watched him from afar. Sadness filled her soul at the pain only a Raug and a god could ever survive. She thanked The One for his blessing. That of all modifications, Azeal had chosen this one.

The Raug were a curious race. Their most prominent trait was an emotion limiter that was not shown by the system. This limiter greatly dulled all emotions in high-stress situations. Making the trial he faced much easier on him. Yet, she knew it was not enough; it had broken something inside of him. It was the only thing that would cause a fully-grown person to bawl like a child for most of the night.

Oh, how much she wanted to help ease his pain. To stop his suffering. To her, he was like a child she could never have. For the gods could not reproduce. Still, she had found the last tiny particles of his existence in the void through sheer luck. Particles as small as a grain of sand. She had given him from her own soul, forcing her to stay for many years in a cocoon of pure energy to heal.

She felt… She felt like a mother…

At the time Fenia gave him a fully formed soul, she felt incredibly satisfied and happy to be a mother.

But now, she knew it was a double-edged sword. Watching him in such pain caused her great distress. Though she knew, to act in the world of mortals directly was to invite them to her domain…

Fear gripped her heart at the prospect of having True Angels and Demons hunting her. She remembered the war, that most terrible war. The gods battled for eons; each faction fighting for dominance. But, after the Pantheon of Holy Light finally defeated the Pantheon of Dark Endings, they became too strong. Becoming a pure dictatorship, where they forced their views on all other gods.

They had all gathered and formed a force to oppose them, fighting for years untold. Until the Gates of Cercius, near the outer edge of the world, opened but a sliver. Even for the long-lived gods, they knew not what it truly meant; only that a force that will destroy them will come out.

But, when they came out in orderly lines and unimaginable numbers, a god of trade estimated that for every one of us there was seventy-thousand standing on the other side. Then two walked forward. An Archangel and an Archdemon. Power, unlike anything the gods have ever seen, surged uncontrollably from their most furious visages. Their anger unimaginable.

Their words, spoken in unison, clung to Fenia like a parasite,

"You have caused great pain to those you were entrusted with! You have forsaken the vows of your forefathers! And betrayed The One's trust in you! Destruction untold has been sown! Cruelty unknown has been allowed! The world, your pitiful existence claim sovereignty over, weeps in sorrow at the unnatural powers you have released! Know that justice has come to be served in Thy name! And with a deft hand IT. SHALL. BE. UNRELENTING!!!"

Screaming with fury, they charged at the gods. All of them charged…