Hatred building for years, inferiority within, kneeling to higher authority. A rainy night forever within the mind, that moon cursing the battlefield. Blood coating the land, that pig devil on his knee. Gazing into vision of velvet, blackness trapping him far within. Eternally screaming out, malevolence deeply within the swine, anger for those eyes of crimson. Memories forever remaining, helplessness so long ago. Yearning in ascending, wishing for heights far above his own. Words stinging upon him, those stabbing drops hitting him. Frustration inside of him, incapability of doing anything.
Is it true? That those who come before you are destined to be inferior?
An entity above those below, a curse of an existence. Vision of the bleeding moon, numerous falling, countless kneeling. Images eternally engraving, murals painting the walls. Blackness consuming the worlds, innumerable falling. In awareness on the depiction, unwillingness in playing within the game. Reaching for the nigh impossible, confronting them. Defeat at hand, that one sparing his life. Walking away, emotions of illness within the swine. That question continuously plaguing his mind, malevolence intensely building, lashing out in every direction. One forever standing higher, those eyes of crimson piercing his soul.
No...I will not believe this...why is it that we the lower ones must bow to you?
A legend depicting throughout time, a story by a certain one. Meaning of necessity, few capable of deciphering it. Conflict around each end, one standing above innumerable. Blackness devouring, another following. Vagueness of it, some certainty no less. Unable in claiming victory, falling in line with the rest. Anger of massiveness, wanting something more. Blood red eyes piercing through the depths of darkness, malevolence wildly raging. Opposing such, wanting in surpassing that entity, resolve feverishly igniting. That realm of the heavens far above the clouds, chains connecting throughout. Floating platforms maintaining itself, that gateway into the world of the gods and home of the angels. Measures of desperation, a goal in mind. A way in quelling a certain threat, extremity of the method. Direction towards one, a devil constantly growing. Hatred of deepness, tackling the trials.
Odin sitting upon the throne, his hand pressing against his cheek, his elbow resting on the handle. Troublesome of his vision, risk no less of worth. An abomination upon the worlds, getting rid of an obstacle. A grander plan in place, everything steadily moving into position. Smiling once of brightness, anger consuming that entity. Unwillingness in remaining silent, breaking through countless obstructions. Shouting her soul, images never leaving the mind of the god. His eyes slightly trailing to the wall, a sigh escaping him. Remembering the mural, words of another. Powerlessness in doing anything, action of necessity. Ultima's awakening well underway, possibilities opening. Trickiness in keeping the genie within its bottle, carefully considering his way in going forward. Freya floating at the side of Odin, doubting him from far within.
Risk of massiveness, wondering if it is only for remaining in power. Possibility of a larger influence, capability in shaping the worlds in his image. Characteristics of a leader, mentality less so. Emotions of conflict, that goddess wishing for another. Laziness of Valor, that deity constantly ensuring the state of her beloved home. Holding her hand to her chest, wondering of how long the god is willing in following an abomination. Two of closeness, a bond never fading. Constantly holding on, following in their footsteps. Never taking the easy way out, feelings eternally existing. That return of the devil, the god trailing her. Deepness of pain, incomparable agony. No matter so, Valor intending in doing something about the current madness.
"You were once so great Valor, then you met that woman..." She distantly thinks.
Heights far above, distance of endlessness. Standing above numerous, personality of brightness. A day forever inside of her mind, that god heading out. Unable to do anything, unsettling emotions. Meeting an entity of the land, a bond forming. Continuously following, falling from greatness. Odin glancing to the goddess, in awareness on the difficulty. Decisions at hand, some reprehensible ones no less. Yearning in preserving their home, doing what he must. Questionability of his actions, a path in doing so, moving pieces onto the board.
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"Freya." He calmly speaks.
Infinite in mystery of the worlds, threats lurking in the shadows. Those of firmament, numerous below. A weapon of the gods, unpredictability of it. Desperation of the situation, a way in quelling a halfbreed. That young woman coming from two, potential most frightening. An abomination of a birth, a curse of an existence. Willingness in grabbing hold of power, shouting her soul. That goddess turning towards The All-Father, conflict in her eyes. Wondering how far he is willing in going, of the boundary he will not cross. Attacking the NetherWorld, failure in the assault. One of more importance revealing, the child of Reynas.
"Yes, lord Odin?" she answers.
Unable in understanding the loyalty of Valor, unwillingness in leaving his companion of the land. Chaos ensuing, horribleness at hand. Proper leadership of necessity, his presence elsewhere. Those earlier days within her mind, that supreme deity of mightiness, his chilling voice. Quelling wars of grandness, none willing in challenging his influence. Those times no more, his heart residing elsewhere. That All-Father gazing to the door towards the throne room, unforgivable his actions are. Throughout the years, events testing his credibility. Sacrifices moving into reality, that deity pushing onward.
"I know my actions are questionable. Though, as it is now, Asgard is on a steady decline. I am doing all I can to maintain our home." He distantly states.
A realm falling apart, one doing everything within his influence. A solution in place, a way in quelling the conflict. Desiring to save his home, doing so in his own way. A weapon of horribleness, risks of greatness. Freya looking away, truth in those words, incapability of agreeing with his method. That god trying to maintain their living, unacceptable reason. Nonexistent limitation, destruction of the result. Hope residing below, within the hands of a certain one. Treading within the deepest of abyss, reaching for someone far inside of it.
"If Ultima goes berserk...then none of us can stop them, you are aware of this, correct...?" she uneasily questions.
Unfathomable power, an entity above innumerable. A last resort, one able in quelling the threat of the land. That devil continuously pushing, ascending to heights far above her own. Treading close to the domain of the gods, soaring alongside another. Falling below, despair consuming her. Refusing to endure, breaking free of her shackles. Shouting her soul, shaking the resolve of those of highness. Odin thinking for a bit, correctness in her assessment. None capable of containing Ultima, a risk of deadliness. Irrationality of necessity at times, that will in protecting what is existing now, measures in place.
"I am aware of the risk, but trust in me..." He looks down.
Trials at hand, corruption staining the soul. Tears within the abyss, a voice wishing for contact. Frustration of deepness, selfishness guiding the way. That faintest light, holding onto words of dearness. Immeasurable suffering, uncertainness on the reason. Born underneath the light of the crimson moon, seeking an answer. Countless desires, one of most worth. Freya turning from The All-Father, unable in looking at him. Holding her hand to her chest, sorrow far within her eyes. Odin not worthy of a leader, wanting Valor on the throne once more.
"Valor...please come back home...we need you more than ever..." She deeply pleads.
Cheeriness in those younger days, that deity following around an abomination. Brightness in his mood, finding a place of belonging. Keeping order between the realms, the god now chasing a dream. Parting of dreadfulness, trying to stay close. Death taking her, years of torment. That devil reawakening, everything falling apart. Worlds moving closer to ruin, that supreme deity racing after his old friend. Painfulness of it, incapability of understanding the reason for him clinging onto the past. A heart residing elsewhere, yearning for times of yore.
Valor...our worlds are moving closer to ruin, and that friend of yours will be the reason for the Nine Worlds being no more. Why will you not let go? Are the lives of countless worthless to you? Will you sacrifice so much for a single person?