It all came crashing into him.
Sound.
Smells.
Sight.
When was the last time he had felt... anything?! It had been some time. For how long was it again?
Days? Weeks? Years?
No, it was nothing like that. He felt the passage of time in his bones and his marrow. Centuries, millennia. A void so utterly replete with unawareness that it made every moment stretch like molasses. To experience this once again—the sheer breadth of life around him!—was a blessing, one he savored deeply and let every one of his senses acclimate to.
The air was scented in the smells of humanity. There was fire and smoke churning in the air, the stench of sickly tar was consummate. He almost giggled. Nature had been reduced, made lesser, a dearth compared to its viridian, has-been glory. And that realization made him so... giddy.
Then there were the sights. Oh, the sights were wonderful!
Stone and steel and glass—clearer than cut gems—molded into structures he couldn't even imagine! They became monuments so tall and imposing, the clouds seemed to run away from them; it seemed impossible but even the skies were defaced by man's hands. Maybe this was hell, heaven, a heretofore yet unknown plane of purgatory, whatever it was, it was gorgeous.
And the planes of blackened ground, entire streets, and alleys, of that sweet, cloying tar! As if a giant painter used a black brush and made the world his canvas. The toxic vapors stuck to his tongue and branded their deadly nature upon his reborn form.
He decided, this place was heaven after all. A great, orgiastic collection of vices and virtues and everything in-between. Life, though absent in some forms, teemed here like a virulent weed. Nothing and no one was left untouched by its rampant overgrowth.
He breathed, slowly and carefully, and ground himself past the intoxication, past the melody of people chatting and talking away—by the heavens, when was the last time he talked with somebody?!
It was certainly the right choice, feeling himself out in that moment of relative peace, and noticing the diminished self he had turned into. He was a blot of ink now, compared to the sea of reishi of the before. The clarity showed him how some things came only with difficulty. The fundamentals of hunting, for example, came with great difficulty. Nevertheless, it snapped into and slipped over his mind like a second skin with a bit of prodding.
But names and faces, pasts and companions, his own strengths... Those were blanks. They had always been clefts and chasms in an otherwise brilliant mind - if he may say so himself - after the battle. However, the time spent in isolation pried them open like voids into the outer realms.
Filling them would be difficult, after a bit of soul-searching it should prove possible though. They were woven into his very being, a fundament on which everything else built, after all. And in any case, he beat worse odds before.
FOR THOSE THAT HAVEN'T NOTICED, THE UPDATE ABOVE IS A HOLLOW POV AGAIN, NOW WE NEED A NAME FOR OUR BOY. (SELECT MORE THAN ONE.) -VOTING CLOSED - 17 VOTERS
Votes
Ytem
7/13
Syzygy
4/5
Xyzzy
1
Iggaahaggaa
1
Revel
1/1
Avios
1
Nooweduwe
0
WHAT KINDA BEASTY ARE WE TALKING ABOUT? (SELECT MORE THAN 1.) -VOTING CLOSED - 20 VOTERS
Votes
Fox (Focus on burrowing through dimensions and using the same tears in reality as weapons, maybe even pocket dimensions for portable, ready-made Ceros.)
10/14
Crow/Raven (Murders of intangible Reishi/Space-tear constructs as weapons. Very edgy, which might not be to everyone's liking.)
4/6
Assassin bug (Can take special things from opponents and construct them into hollowfied equipment along with hiding in tears in space.)
3/4
Centipede/Bobbitworm (Dragging people into a different darkness, deeper, a plane not unlike the hadal. Focused on grappling and snaring, you bend the void into a million limbs, to never let your prey go.)
1/3
Harpy Eagle (A brutal and swift bruiser. Claws the size of steak knives and just unparalleled speed.)
1/2
Cat (Silent and swift, with hidden claws that can be bared in moments. Very deadly, yet death doesn't come easily for its victims)
1
Viper
1
Shrike (Constructing those dimension tears into thorns and vines, upon which all shall be impaled.)
0
Ytem .. the name rolled off his proverbial tongue.
It fit, it worked, it slotted right into the places where it belonged. An anchor for his identity, an idea to construct himself around. There was power in that name, a fear upon hearing it, fear he could taste already, but also veneration, respect for what he was. Everything great deserved a name after all.
Naming himself he felt a rush, a draught of power passing into him, from within him. It sat there for a moment, boiling his insides, creating and imprinting an image onto his very soul, leylines to run his power through. When it was done, when his own self finished reflecting and compounding, the pressure increased.
It began with a steady push in his chest threatening to spill his heart onto the ground. The energy strained against its captor, his new, tender flesh and he had a single choice to make.
With a roar and a flash of reishi, the energy was expelled skyward.
The affair resolved itself quickly enough, but the strain on his new body persisted.
Legs had been broken, multiple lacerations and bleeding scuffs dot his body; something had cracked his damned ribcage like some rotten crab shells.
All in all, some damage had been done, not enough to impede him, certainly not enough to amount to more than a bother.
Heavens... he was a moment of carelessness away from singing and dancing and perhaps eating the rabble that kept gawking. Having a corporeal form, being able to think, was a joy beyond his ability to express. Sure, some leftover, aimless indignation bled through from the former mind he battened. Then again, a promise of rectifying violence had it mollified rather quickly. He was being happy, not a fool. And whoever or whatever hurt this new form of his... there was a price to be paid in blood.
A moment is all it took for Ytem to sort his memories. Waking up from a nightmare, going to school, encountering a villain on his way there.
Supernatural villainy and megalomaniacs with the strength to back it up, caused by the phenomenon called Quirks, the latter being a peculiar subject in and of itself.
The people of this realm have acquired incomprehensible powers, drawing on—he tasted the air and the sparks of energy within—a particularly flavored form of reishi with the abilities to... He guessed it was some sort of reality manipulation. To make make-believe real, that kind. He couldn't be sure at this point, but the matter would be thoroughly researched in the future.
Instead, he turned his focus towards more pressing things, ergo the poorly hidden 'villain'. His assailant.
Ytem had to give it to the man: stitching reishi into crude, visual constructs that lead sight away from them and induced acute motion blindness? That was not only creative but it also spoke of a highly talented individual. His own, physical eyes couldn't tell the empty blot of air apart from the man standing right in its place. However, for his reishi sense, he shone like a candle in the dark.
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!
Killing him was a waste. Alas, as talented as he may be as a potential protégée, he was an enemy right now and Ytem didn't remember himself being the merciful sort.
Ytem limbered up, rolling out the kinks and knots of this untrained form. Blood pumped through his veins, real blood and not some soul-borne analog, muscles bunched and pulled taut like steel cables, his chain of fate danced like a snake—curious that he still had that. Nevermind. His knees seemed the worst of the bunch, their joints snagged against one another with audible clicks. A generous application of reishi served as a makeshift surgery well enough and then went beyond that.
Unadapted to the all-encompassing energy of souls, his body drew it all in. It was a greedy and messy process. Energy spilled from him in great waves, like a keg filled to the brim and carried by the world's most inept bow. The flares of reishi shot to the sides, the ground, the sky, everywhere and indiscriminately. They bowled over lookers-on who cursed and shouted something about 'illegal Quirk usage'. None seemed the wiser to the scorches on their souls. Their loss.
For some reason, his prey had yet to move and instead watched him warily from around a corner. He accepted the offer to fight graciously.
Sight tunneled on a singular point. Sinewy flesh was coiled like springs. His legs buckled and suffused themselves in reishi. And with a shattering of stone, he shot forward.
One, two, three steps! Air whipped around him in a sudden storm, the distance was eaten up and then he was upon his prey just as it bolted past the bend, startled by the sudden motions.
Something of a strangled squawk escaped the man and whatever grip he held on his ability vanished.
The air shifted in the colors of nacre and suddenly a green-skinned and scaled hollow stood before him. Ytem wondered what a hollow was doing here in broad daylight, and in a habit, he would have to give up sooner rather than later, he put that thought away for later inspection.
He slipped close to the beast that left itself unguarded, reared back, and shot two quick punches into the stunned creature's abdomen: jabbing left, pivoting and crossing with his right. It was the only option if one had neither claws to tear, fangs to rip, nor the ability to blast his enemies with ceros. But the dull slap of knuckles on flesh was pure music to his ears.
The blows robbed the hollow of air and Ytem measured the distance with a parting left to its jaw just as it keeled forward. Its head whipped with the passing of his fist, blood sprayed from split skin, and one, bulging eye stared incredulously.
That same eye just seemed to widen further and further, the shadow of fear passing over it.
"F-Fuck off you monster!" the hollow hissed and used the added momentum to leap back. Its throat swelled midair, drool and drops of blood trailed down its face; its mouth snapped open and a giant tongue zipped towards him.
Ytem almost scoffed-
Until the pale-pink limb slammed into him with the force of a Bala—hyperbole on his part—and he skid back over the ground. This was surprising: such incredible, physical ability on a lowly hollow was unheard of. Even his flimsy Hiero had been damaged!
Now it was his turn to grit his teeth and collect his bearings.
"Serves you fucking right!" the hollow cackled and its tongue whipped through the air for another pass at him.
Ytem stepped to the side, ducking low, and the tongue clipped with the barest touch against his shoulder and went on to whail against the ground.
Swift footwork ate the distance up and he pressed his advantage, dashing right into the open guard. The gloating expression fell from the hollow's face, just in time as a thundering right hooked against its cheek and spun its head around like on a swivel.
The crack was sharp and clear and the hollow stumbled back further, its eyes gyrating without focus. Like old wood, the hollow toppled. Its tongue dragged over the stone sluggishly, languidly, rolling up into its mouth, and Ytem considered for a moment.
YOUR CHOICE. (SHOULD ERSHIN WIN THE ROLL, FURTHER ROLLS WILL BE AT A DISADVANTAGE, AMPLIFIED BY FURTHER LOSSES. THE FIGHT WILL CONTINUE THOUGH!) -VOTING CLOSED - 23 VOTERS
Votes
Tear out his tongue. (This sort of brutality will be rolled against Ershin. Bo2 100 against Bo2 100.)
13/17 1
Let him collect himself. Let this be a real fight! (Fight will continue without an Ershin roll.)
4/5
Bite off his tongue. (Bo2 100 against Bo2 100+20 because this is particularly nasty.)
BO2 1D100- CLOSED - BE THE FIRST TO POST.
Dice: 1d100
59 = 59
Dice: 1d100
81 = 81
Dice: 1d100
79 = 79
Dice: 1d100
75 = 75
Rip and tear. The idea was as brilliant as it was brutal.
The hollow kept reeling in its tongue, teetering between conscious and unconscious, unaware of the terrific smile Ytem couldn't help but sport.
In a single motion, he grabbed the slimy appendage from the ground and tested his enhanced grip on it.
His fingers sank into the pliable, warm and absolutely delectable looking muscle—the flesh molded itself against his hands like softened butter. It took every bit of his will to keep himself from salivating. He wanted to take a bite, just a nibble. But giving in to such a base, and frankly vulgar, desire right from the get-go would leave him no better than the hollow before him. A slave to lower instincts.
Instead, he began tugging, not unlike a fisherman.
The hollow, waking softly from its fugue, looked on with uncomprehending eyes.
"B-Bwha? Wha' a' you 'oing?"
Confusion, alarm, fear, and lastly horror crossed its features. It scrambled back, sure of its greater size and strength, and Ytem moved with it.
A powerful kick to its stomach, momentum added on by its own actions, left the creature even flatter on its ass.
Brought down like a dog, beaten and humiliated, scrambling like a maggot on the ground; there, Ytem decided, is where this creature belonged. With care, he put his heel onto its chest, pushed it onto its back with a weight that threatened to crack its ribs, and pulled. So simple, so... deliciously painful.
"'ease! 'EASE!"
The hollow squealed, like the good pig it was, but his mind was zeroed in on the flesh pillowing through his fingers. The image tickled his spine.
"OWN'T! 'OWwWN'T! OWW!!!"
Muscle battled muscle. Ytem came out on top.
His hands shut like vices. Strands of muscle spread within the mucosa to make way for his grip. Ytem felt it wriggle underneath his skin, the tongue drawing back by reflex. When the pressure went up a notch the same muscles expelled themselves past their boundaries with the snap of broken strings. Arterial spray, a scream, and the tongue came loose with the squelch of torn meat and a hot—so hot—deluge of blood.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"
Red splattered all over his shirt in the terrific mosaic of feathers and soaked him down to his bones; it splattered against his face, his lips, seeping into his nose, and heavens he could taste and smell the metal, the iron, in it. He shuddered and moaned a husky breath as orgastic jolts of pleasure ran up and down his back.
Moments like these made life worth living. He admonished himself, he should have taken that bite. The tongue was one of his favorite cuts.
The severed limb wriggled out its dying throes and left him standing in relative silence, save for the sniveling, groaning, and incoherent mess of a hollow that writhed numbly in its own blood. Panicked hands were trying to staunch the profusely bleeding wound.
Rarely, if ever, had he seen such a mollycoddled sort of hollow. Losing a single limb and breaking down into a crying mess? Good heavens, either this generation had become soft or something else was afoot.
Ytem rubbed the ruddiness from his face, literal and figurative, chucked the tongue away, his interest lost, and stepped up to the giant wuss.
WHAT DO YOU DO NEXT? -VOTING CLOSED - 14 VOTERS
Votes
Leave him be, should your first act, reborn and given a new lease in life, be to turn into a kinslayer?
7/8 2
Kill him, end it right here, right now. (This sort of brutality will be rolled against Ershin. Bo2 100 against Bo2 100+20.)
3/5
Torture the fucker some more.
He silently watched the creature, which in turn scuttled back in mute horror.
This... This was just pitiful. He had been struck once this entire... farce of a fight and that was it. Now, losing a limb was more in the ballpark of debilitating injuries, but good heavens it wasn't that bad!
Either this hollow was entirely too incompetent for its own good, or something was seriously wrong here.
Whatever the case, his mood had been soured beyond the ability to be salvaged. He stared the crippled thing down a moment longer and then walked right past it. His time was better spent elsewhere instead of being in the presence of this insect more than he must.
He felt its eyes watching him, tracking every move of him—the hollow may or may not have played him, he couldn't find himself caring right now—up until he disappeared around a corner and jumped for the rooftops.
So far his new life had been exciting if a bit of a letdown at the same time. He could work with that though. He could tell that his time here would not be boring.
Which hero noticed the scream? From the Hero Roster from the MHA Wiki: 1-42 (43 is All Might)
Dice: 1d43
21 = 21
It's Crimson Riot.
Mirko gets a straight-up try because she got freakin' rabbit ears.
Dice: 1d100+30
Options: Sum. Threshold: 60.
60 + 30 = 90 (Success!)
Hound Dog gets a try because he's a... dog, do I need to add more?
Dice: 1d100+30
Options: Sum. Threshold: 60.
62 + 30 = 92 (Success!)
Crimson Riot heard the scream and thought nothing of it.
Dice: 1d100
Options: Sum. Threshold: 60.
48 = 48 (Fail)
Up here, far and away from the people, this new, foreign city took his breath away. Though he enjoyed reveling in his hollow desires, namely bloodshed, destruction, and the occasional bit of cannibalism, he could accept when something was... mundanely beautiful. This city was one such thing.
It was thriving with people, it was blindingly bright and colorful and it stretched far past the horizon, grander than anything he ever laid his eyes upon. It was majestic, in a word.
He surrendered the urge to violate for a moment and just took it all in, even bloodsoaked as he was.
Up until two immense reishi signatures began hurrying his way.