Howling in the dusk, the coldly blowing breeze. Loud screams, these sharp sounds. That mercenary jolting awake, his hasty heart. Sitting underneath the tree, gathering himself for a bit. His blurry vision, this shocking him. Slowly looking around, blood catching his sense, immediately rising from the land. Mysteries forever within the worlds, those able to catch the most skillful off-guard. Resting from a long travel, his goal to escort a princess. A sudden situation, his unsettling feelings.
"Luna...?"
How foolish I was...to leave her alone with them. If only I had paid more attention...
A suspicious situation, guards around the corner, him not far. Rushing to the camping site, the red moon shining down its light on the horror. A peaceful day, enjoying it with another. Everything instantly flipping, his eyes on the scene. Residing there, observing the situation, imperials on the ground. His attention on some more, blood dropping from their weapons. His quickly beating heart, his awareness on the occurrence, an attack from the inside.
"D—don't tell me..." Michael's unease.
A shady job, not trusting it from the start. Needing money, a desperate dilemma. Focusing his mind, yearning to complete it. Little threats on the way, not thinking much on it, those guarding her as well. This destruction around him, lives of soldiers no more, those of the same holding responsibility. His eyes passing the imperials, his slightly widening gaze. Luna towards the back, gripping her head. Excruciating pain on her, flailing left to right. Her pulsing agony inside of her, the stinging torment.
"Luna!" urgently calling out.
"Michael...my body...it feels...so hot, it hurts...so badly..." Falling to her knees.
"What did you bastards do to her?!" yelling at the imperials.
Brewing sentiments, anger rising within him. A single mercenary against the madness, his unsettling feelings. Gazing onward, those soldiers directing their weapons at him. Stepping away, shifting his stance. Readying his assault, little time with him. His goal in mind, needing to penetrate their defense. Desiring to reach one, his gratefulness to the individual. Innocence in this terrible realm, another instance of its cruelty.
"Orders are orders. A beast massacred the imperials, the princess taken as a result. All by those of the kingdom of Vars." One imperial smirking.
Connecting these horrible points, an attack from the inside, those planning each instance. Thinking back to the strange request, his quickly beating chest. His desperation, a King refusing his request. Standing in blackness, those hasty events. His unsettling feelings, his concerning sister. Their rightful suspicions, this unfolding calamity. The soldier's chilling words, the mercenary trying to remain calm. A ploy from the beginning, this farce of a mission. Lives no more than commodities, pieces on a chessboard.
"Her own father...used her as a pawn...!" Michael stepping back, frustration from him.
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"Correct, but not like you will live to tell the tale hm hm. She has been injected with the blood of a demon, it will not be long now."
Low individuals, their willingness to use their own. Working over his years, encountering numerous. Not trusting others, his thickening shell. Completing his jobs, continuously proceeding. This careful design, his inability to foresee this monstrous outcome, a father committing an atrocities against his own. The cold chilling night, enemies around the mercenary. Refusing to relent, needing to reach one.
"Argh!"
"Luna! Hold on! I have something that can help!" urgently calling out to her.
The blood of a demon, its dangerous effects to humans, witnessing it before. His quickly beating heart, these foes opposing him. Visualizing a way, a line to break through. This chilling event, none other with him. Imperials spreading out, his eyes on those enemies. His blade in hand, shifting his stance. Needing to push forward, little time with him. An innocent one coming into his life, shining light on his path. Yearning to save her, his sounding heart.
Luna...just wait...just a bit more. Sister...forgive my selfishness...
"Don't let him get close!" one imperial yelling.
Selfishness guiding individuals, those forcing against one another. Each believing in their path, committing atrocities, their souls in this madness. A mercenary building his reputation, witnessing cruelty. Commodities of others, a resource towards another's goal. His willingness to stand against them, his enormous hatred. A friend in trouble, that pure person.
"Heh, you fools got a lot of nerves making an enemy of me. Let my crimson soul burn anew!" his powerful voice.
A skillful mercenary, his wounds reflecting his experiences. Returning from his missions, heading out stronger than before. Learning horrors, witnessing the actions from deplorable's. A pure one entering into his life, setting light on his road. His boiling blood, directing his offhand to his chest. Dark flames harshly igniting from his body, surrounding the area in a blazing energy. His displaying emotions, soldiers witnessing this. The intensifying heat, his power burning brighter by the moment. His desperate eyes on Luna, seeing her agony, trying to reach her.
Dammit...if there is a god out there...well goddess so I heard, just this once...let me have one desire...
A black heart, wandering in a terrible abyss. His way to proceed, his shaky path. His hasty chest, racing along his nightmarish direction, yearning to save one to his heart. An entity in the depths of the night, floating far above, not in sight. Her gold armor, her noble velvet cape on the lower half of her back. Her long gold hair, those crimson eyes bearing witness to this occurrence. Her massive pure white wings, a red ribbon tying at the back of her head, the laces extending a bit far. Cyra, the Iconoclast. One from legend, her actions leading to the current situation.
"Human who has such turmoil, I shall bear witness to where your resolve leads." Folding her arms.
Her vision on the scene below, feeling his fear. Bondage of the heart, sinking into blackness, racing within its loneliness. Avoiding shadowy hands, seeking what is inside. A soul in shackles, years of tragedy. Eventually escaping her chains, spreading her wings once more. Taking flight, refusing to bind to the land. This mercenary to her gaze, one carrying heavy burdens, his resolve against his enemies. Imperials rushing ahead, closing in on their foe. His sharp gaze, staking his sword into the land. Fire intensely spiraling around his weapon, a burst of power tearing through the area, incinerating everything in his path.
"AAAAHHH!!!" imperials screaming.
Unleashing his sentiments, his sounding soul. Blasting them away, scaring the area. Never ending cruelty, those no more than pieces, commodities towards the goal of another. Not standing for it, his vision on his direction. Little time with him, his hasty movements. Jobs over his years, accepting it, learning much. An innocent person coming into his life, acting on this moment. Refusing defeat, determination in his eyes, needing to reach her.
Just hold on, Luna...