—The Past Revisited—
—1350 Years Ago—
Torment throughout the land, blood bathing the field. Stench of horridness, victims spreading far, bodies piling upon each other. That pig devil upon his knee, gazing up into the eyes of the young woman. Fear from him, his beating heart. Her blade directing at his neck, that demon holding his breath. Those cold ferocious eyes piercing right into his soul, rain pouring down, crashing into the field of dreadfulness. An entity standing above numerous, none knowing of her blood. Two of greatness, potential within. Countless falling, decay of the earth.
"Th—this makes no sense at all. I gathered all the best demons, and they all fell to you...! This is not fair!" he yells.
Going so far, gathering the best. All in the direction to a single one, that young woman in a class far above them. An army no more than ants at her feet, those eyes of the bleeding moon. Hair brilliantly shining its golden color. Faintly smiling, gazing upon the fool. Her expression filling him with rage, his body trembling at her presence. Murals painting his mind, blackness far within. Emotions crying out, yet something not right. Unable in understanding their differences, tactically moving pieces into place. Power far from his own, that maiden proving his efforts fruitless.
"You just do not get it do you, Reed?" Cyra calmly speaks.
Stabbing rain, the thickening of blood. Scars on the battlefield, dust blowing along. One continuously rising, a goal in mind. Perseverance relentlessly protruding, clashing against the resolve of countless. Eyes of coldness upon her, feeling water hitting against him. Slowly looking around, those lifeless devils upon the ground. Turning his attention towards her once again, uncertainness on her meaning. Her tone striking to his core, her blade soaking in the blood of innumerable. A heart of softness, actions of boldness. Refusing in relenting, surpassing obstacles.
"What do you mean...?" he coldly questions.
Painfulness upon the soul, treading through the deepest of abyss. Agony incomparable, ascending her power. Lessons of harshness, a realm of lawlessness. Selfishness guiding the way, maintaining that heart of gentleness at the base. Smallness of the chances, finding a solution. Vision of certainty, connecting the pathways. Reaching for the nigh impossible, seeking a desire. Her blade inching closer to his neck, that swine raising his head, glancing down to her sword. His heart desperately pounding, his spine trembling. Uneasiness far within his eyes, a devil above all else, looking down at her enemies.
"It is not that I am more powerful, it is because I have a reason." Her eyes lightening upon him.
"Reason?" he questions in confusion.
Loathing the battlefield, having in pushing onward. Reason guiding her path, irrationality within existence. Unreasonableness within the approach, rationality of the method. Conflicting it is, her own way in going forward. Strangeness for a devil, countless not requiring a purpose. Wondering on the difference, her power exceeding that of Demon Lord's. Senseless it is, pondering on the simplicity of it. Logicality within her actions, this leading to her surpassing his best. Vision in mind, seeking a certain one. Another desire even deeper, uncertainty of it. Knowing of her path, forcing against the influence trying to bind her.
"Indeed." She places away her blade.
Those of the NetherWorld, strength guiding their path. Torment throughout, despair never ending. A life of naturalness for them, that heart despising it. Playing within its game, sullying her hands. Holding true to herself, proceeding with her own rationality. That swine calming, his heart rate settling. A sigh escaping him, that pig gazing up at her. Conflict inside of his eyes, her vision upon the pitiable demon. That maiden proudly standing, one eternally higher, those below nothing more than stepping stones towards her own desire. Wishing for another way, impossibility of it.
"Reason dictates action. So long as I have a reason to take up my blade, then no matter what threat you bring against me—" she turns from him.
"—they will all meet their end." She calmly speaks.
"A demon with reason, how laughable." He stands from the ground.
Words of the past, uncertainness of it. A gripping feeling at her depths, following in its guidance. Resisting the logicality of others, pushing forward. Innumerable storming her, that resolve refusing in relenting. Felling countless, her will emerging superior. Those not believing in her method, staying within their own understanding. Glancing back, hearing the chuckling of the swine. Irritating he is, a reason not existing in taking his life. Demoralizing him, this no less enough of a punishment. Paying him some mind, this of the least she can do.
"Believe what you want, but the evidence is all around you. You can bring as many as you wish. You can get as high up as you desire, but against me, it is pointless."
Unreasonableness of others, learning of this over the years. Clashing against innumerable, surpassing her challenges. Words most chilling, inferiority from within him. His eyes slightly widening, hearing her tone, those words. His hands scraping the ground, frustration in her direction. Witnessing her moving further away from him, helplessness of his situation. Reaching so far, his efforts never enough in besting her. Eternally pointless, her message deeply striking inside of him. One born underneath the light of the crimson moon, origin of a mystery. Emotions of deepness, following a teaching of the past. Unable to identify it, reassuring it is.
"Mark my words! One day! You will die by my hands!" he yells.
"And I will be waiting for that day." She calmly states.
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—Present Time—
Wounds of time, conflict never dying. Purpose in pushing onward, a realm of lawlessness containing hostility. Feelings of illness persisting, that negativity existing in the world of the heavens. Within the deepest reaches, a place without light. One embracing their hatred, their desires. Wishing to bring down the one casting shame upon them, malevolence surrounding the being. Darkness lashing out in every direction, those eyes opening. Crimson glowing, piercing the blackness. Deepness of the resolve, yearning in surpassing a certain entity.
"Just a bit longer, Cyra..." They coldly speak.
Intent of maliciousness, grudges of deepness. Each carrying feelings, their own way. Experiences paving the path, those willing in reaching. Few ascending to heights far above their standing, birth no less of a factor. Futileness of efforts, aggravation far within. Wishing in opposing, numerous playing within this game of chance. A NetherWorld, one of the Nine Worlds. Home of the devils, some of the most heinous creatures residing there. Some desiring for peace, others embracing corruption. A place of division, gods aiming for annihilation. Everything within a balance, Valor in awareness on this. Rain pouring down, time of littleness. Cyra, Valor, and Argent returning to Ezel. That maiden suspecting a solution, a fighting chance in existence, holding onto this hope.
"So why the rush back to Ezel?" Valor questions.
"There is a certain bartender I know there, he might have some useful information." Cyra informing him.
Confusion of the past, resisting of loneliness. Power of weakness, direction towards one. A family no more, misunderstandings. Meeting one of the bar, her identity in seclusion for so long. Jobs at hand, a way in staying afloat. Memories of blissfulness, a place of belonging. Warmth in the presence of the inhabitants, that ghoul her friend. Standing at an intersection, positioning her arms in a thinking posture. Deeply considering her knowledge until that point, her attention on her surroundings for a moment. Strangeness of the condition, not a single devil. Demons not caring for the weather, those going on with their day either way.
"Hold on, you drink?" he looks to her in surprise.
"Used to, it was during the time when my memories were still scrambled." She places her hand upon her waist.
"Uh-huh, ya know there are stages an alcoholic goes through. You're not getting to acceptance at this rate." He slightly raises his eyebrows.
"You are unbelievable, have you any idea how frustrating you can be?" glancing back to him, annoyance slightly in her tone.
"I wanna say no, but then I would be lying to myself." He teases a bit, leaning towards her.
Those of closeness, direness of the conflict. A weapon of the gods on the way, grimness of the situation. A bond of nearness, emotions of deepness. Words of indirectness, both wishing for times of yore. Another chance at hand, a miracle within a nightmare. One treading within the deepest of abyss, that faintest light guiding her way. Her companion diving to the depths, trying to reach her. Selfishness leading the way, blissfulness from it. Faintly smiling, Cyra nodding in disbelief. Pushing back against him, that deity laughing. One of cheerfulness, that boy propping his arms behind his head, actions towards one another. The child gazing up to the cloudy sky, that young woman turning in the direction of the god.
"Do you not find something strange here?" Cyra questions.
This dreadful area, liveliness no longer there. That halfbreed glancing from left to right, witnessing water hitting against the empty streets. Noticing her concern, Valor looking around. His serious expression. Quietness of it all, sounds of nothingness against the ground. Coldness of the scent all around, unsettling feelings. A place usually of liveliness, those coming from numerous directions. A devil constantly returning, knowing of the habits of innumerable. That god in awareness on the change, a reason no less for this, sadness from it.
"No one...anywhere..."
Infinite in sins, those inhabiting a realm of lawlessness. Emotions guiding the way, resolve feverishly igniting. Their own path in life, reprehensibility of it. A place of a gathering, those willing in communicating. A threat of grandness, that weapon of the gods. Direction towards one, a solution for countless more. Genocide of their answer, numerous of the land unable to resist. One continuously opposing, following the faintest light. Argent looking around the area, none other than themselves. Devils of resilience, the severity of the situation of the likely solution.
"Correct, I can only wonder if they have begun fleeing. Are they already aware of Ultima?" Cyra positioning her arms in a thinking posture.
"That would make sense, still, there is nowhere to run towards." Valor folding his arms, slightly looking down.
"For now then, we head to the bar. I know no matter what, the bartender there will not run." Cyra speaks.
Deities going so far, disrupting the livelihood of devils. One never accepting the way of her race, no matter so, this of her belonging. Originating elsewhere, growing in this world. Memories of valuableness, both horrid and pleasant. Feelings of illness within, hatred boiling at her depths. Coldness of the air, dampness of the surroundings. Grimness of the situation, the weight of it all pressing on her shoulders. A final resistance in place, uncertainty on her chances. Escalation of the crisis, unnerving it is. Desperation of the time, joining together no doubt of betterment than fleeing.
Innumerable losing their lives of a tragedy, yet the future continuing for others. That devil turning, slowly inhaling and exhaling, gathering her nerves. Those companions resting their vision upon her, that deity in awareness on the burden she is carrying. No matter the morrow, even if it is sorrowful, that young woman continuously holding everything together. Even if her world is crashing down all around her, that maiden constantly opposing what is reason, pressing down her own path. Terribleness of it all, that faintest light guiding her in the darkness.
"Sis, this bar, how long did you visit it?" Argent stepping forward.
"I lost track of the time, probably a thousand years or so." She calmly states.
Blissfulness within the presence of few, a family after so long, warmness with them. Misfits in one place, accepting of the other. An environment of belonging, painfulness at a minimum. Smiling of brightness from the mass, a ghoul keeping them together. Glancing back to Valor, one readying for a comment. Slightly glaring at him, his response of obviousness towards her. A chill running down his spine, her eyes shaking his will. Even if the end of days is approaching, that halfbreed knowing her old friend. One taking advantage of the situation, childishness of his habits.
"I have a gun you know." She threatens a bit.
"Never-mind then..." He looks away.
Time constantly moving, each day those getting further away from the past. Two seeking times of yore, difficulty within it. Emotions driving the way, their own reason in pushing onward. One trying to maintain his beliefs, wishing in righting a wrong so long ago. Another holding onto her heart of softness, breaking down obstacles within her path. That god remaining the same, unable in passing up an opportunity. Propping his arms behind his head, quietness of betterment for his safety. Truth within it, age of a delicate topic. Those not falling victim to it, preference in not facing it. Cyra positioning her arms in a thinking posture, considering the condition. Direness growing, information of necessity. Hoping for her correctness, a fighting chance of existence if the bartender is still there.
"Anyway, we have not the time to waste. Valor, invoke a teleportation magic." Cyra glancing back to him.
"Bossy...but okay..." He sighs.