Misery throughout the passing time, those reaching beyond the surface. Tormenting agony, an eternal war. Dread filling the realm of Midgard, many similar worlds. One capable of providing miracles, turning the smallest chances into an actuality. Hearts riding along in the wind, terribleness continuously protruding. Sorrow consuming the realm of the mortals, yet a hand guiding hand in existence. Far below, mid-afternoon of the scene. A mercenary traveling through the woods, imperials following behind. Brown armor, a symbol of a lion on them.
These proud soldiers, their mighty demeanor. Complexity in surviving, differing points of view. Those opposing one another, shouting what is within. Taking up arms, forcing onward. Crying throughout time, selfishness pushing forward. That strict mercenary, his showing muscles. Twin scars engraving on his face, eyes of the land. Spiking hair, reflecting the night. Armor of a dark dragon, his massive sword. Inscriptions upon it, visions of the gods. Wars plaguing it, this reliable weapon. Sentiments within, numerous ill feelings.
"So Michael, why are you working this crap of a job? It's not the best out there by any chance." One man looking to him.
"Whatever gets the money in—"
Not caring for them, necessity in moving onward. His horrible experiences, proceeding in his own way. Terrible battles, staining his hands in blood. His reason within, his beating chest. Wounds on his body, damning those in his presence. Flowing streams, moving along them. Another job in his hands, this no less enough. Stopping his movement, suddenness of this. Everyone halting their actions, trusting the mercenary's instinct. This strange occurrence, a thick stench to his attention. Metallic of it, a sickening smell. A way to live, expectance these events.
"—careful." Michael warning.
Hostility around every corner, danger in the field. Money of importance, withstanding cruelty. Horrors to his vision, unsettling at first. Learning to embrace this, cleaving through his foes. Coldness of him, accepting jobs. His mind on one, essentialness in his success. Forcing onward, striking down his enemies. Small signs, picking up on them. The creepy breeze, the slowly motioning grass. Rustling trees around, his high alert. Imperials looking at one another, his warning to their attention. Taking caution to their surroundings, remaining near him.
Why do I work these jobs...? Oh right...that's why. Without it...she will...this life...no one in their right mind would work these kinds of jobs. Hunting devils...? Hah, how funny...it is even more hilarious how these spineless bastards all hide behind me. They wouldn't even turn to help their own. Power...this is the corruption of it. It can bring you much followers, but in a time of vulnerability, everyone will leave...
Darkness of actuality, each of their own end. Selfishness of the way, pieces on the board. Awareness on this, his ill vision on others. Moving onward, imperials trailing behind. Spineless individuals, expecting it. Importance to keep sharp, not trusting them. A heart embracing this, surviving everyday. His harsh actuality, uncaring of their state. Heading further into the woods, Michael's unease. The unsettling wind, his careful eyes. Sounding screams, soliders in alarm. Haste from them, looking in the direction of it.
"Come on! We have the invincible Michael here with us!" one imperial raising their weapon.
Their high praises for him, disbelief from him, those rushing ahead. Their lives on his shoulders, never thinking through their actions. A normal occurrence, many proceeding in their ignorance. Meaningless lives, pieces on the board. Disgust in it, a terrible actuality. Witnessing this, his reputation rising over the passing time. Powerful individuals holding the cards, low ones unable to lead their own path. A repritive cycle, weakness paving the way for grandness, this never ending cruelty.
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Invincible...? How funny...I am far from such. Just like you, I am no more than the common man. Why do you put your lives in my hands...? Can you not make a decision for yourselves?
A formidable one, his great feats. Clashing against numerous, surpassing his enemies. Wounds on his body, lessons from them. Continuously growing, his own desire within. His ill views on others, unahle to understand this senselessness. Blackness of reality, screams echoing in his ears. Moving onward, approaching the imperials. Numerous bodies on the ground, scattering far, an unsurprising sight. Struggling from the remaining few, a gargoyle of their trouble. Scales of the night, their ferocious red eyes. Treading through the battlefield, his vision on the area painting in crimson.
Here I am again...about to strike down yet another. This life style...can you really support it...? Possibly not...I mean...how can you...? My life is constantly in danger, and I don't even care about that...only your wellbeing...
This of his life, proceeding in his own way. His intention towards one, enduring harshness. Misery continuously existing, his ill sentiments to others. Building his reputation over the passing time, moving up the ranks. Never healing scars, evidence of his success. Rising to the challenges, silencing his enemies. Once again on another job, his vision on the devil ahead. Balancing his sword on his shoulder, his offhand in the direction of his foe. Locking onto the mercenary, awareness on the difference. Gauging his opponent, learning another point.
"Stay back, I will make quick work of this fiend." Assuring them.
"Hah! Now you'll get it! Go get em Michael!" an imperial cheering.
"Right on!" another supporting.
Those cheering imbeciles...hmph...your words mean little to me. After all, I know I am but leverage if I so shall ever need your assistance. Your hearts are black, and mine is no different. In this world, only those with power survives, but even so...even I can be a bit compassionate now and then...
Those from the realm below, each following the guidance from a high one. An entity capable of breaking free of their limitation, rising far above their standing. A common wish, shouting what is within. None truly knowing the tale, their black heart. Once filling with love, their cruel experiences. Their selfish path, feverishly unleashing their emotions. The monster's uncaring eyes, loudly screeching. Its vision on its surroundings, witnessing the thickly extending crimson energy. Miasma shrouding the area, the mercenary not caring for this. His attention on the demon, the gargoyle expanding its wings. Ascending high above, his gaze in the direction. Claws in sight, descending on its opponent. A heart rising to this challenge, his blade connecting in an instant, meeting the arm of the monster.
"Is that all...? Fine then...let the inferno of war burn thy enemies to ashes..." His chilling voice horrifying the devil.
Flowing sentiments, his igniting fury. His harsh resolve, his immense pressure crushing down at the fiend. The monster slowly floating away, his eyes on it. His slight footing, moving forward. Appearing before it, immediately striking at it. This heavy impact, fire scorching the surroundings. Burning flesh to his nostrils, his unrelenting soul. An opponent unable to move, paralysis binding its body. Following up, barraging his foe in a flurry of assaults. Concentrating energy, this immense force. Dashing away, residing from a distance, his cold vision on his enemy.
"Farewell..."
These senseless occurrences, a realm filling with misery. Those screaming out, war tearing it apart. Lives trying to survive, some unable to choose. Ill feelings, countless clashing against one another. Monstrosities in existence, feverishly igniting hearts. Firmly pressing his foot into the ground, stopping his movements. His blade in the land, an enormous inferno ripping through. Flames sweeping the devil off the land, spiraling them above. Shrilling from it, demons around, fear overcoming them. Numerous fleeing, some unfortunate, those relentless flames engulfing them.
With Agni in hand, I shall lay waste to all my enemies...so that...one day...