Conflict of old, those in opposition of one another. Realms differing from each other. An entity of highness, another of the land. Unlikeliness of this, niceness of it. Reminding of those feelings, suspiciousness on the reason for separation. Despising gods, fitting together pieces. A heart once of blackness, meeting a goddess of purity. Her hand of guidance stopping his descent, a life eventually shaping between the two. Joyfulness for some time, terribleness setting in. Darkness plaguing him, sinking into the abyss. His daughter forming a friendship with a deity, a cycle of repetitiveness. Standing there, gazing at the Tyrant. Unwelcoming of the god, unsurprising of this. Trust of littleness, knowing of the bond between his child and this one. Restraining himself, mistakes of the past.
"Answer, why do you persist?" Alastor impatiently questions.
Loathing those of the heavens, his happiness of old. Those taking it away, clues of yore. Fitting together pieces, years going by. Admission from one of grandness, hatred of deepness. His method in proceeding, confronting his daughter. Illness of sentiments, rightfulness of her anger. A rift of massiveness, a monstrosity of her. Two sides differing from each other, embracing her fury. Unleashing it, selfishness guiding her way. Maintaining softness at her depths, that faintest light. A way in preventing a scenario of terribleness, her heart winning out. Glancing back to the forbidden gate, Valor thinking on her words. Times of most importance, constantly retreating into his shell. Bondage within, unwillingness in repeating this error. Wanting in reaching out, yearning in righting that wrong, a night eternally clawing away at him.
"For years she suffers, and for years I have been incapable of doing anything..." He slightly looks down.
Chilling of those occurrences, dusk of painfulness. That bleeding moon never leaving, a presence constantly reflecting his old friend. Cursing of it, images forever branding upon him. Ignoring it, a bond of valuableness. His message to her, wanting in making true to it. An obstacle in his path, naturalness of it. Venturing in between the living and the dead, seeking her out. Refusing in relenting, that Tyrant paying attention to his words. A response not of expectance, an interesting one. Countless years, that deity unable in acting, criticalness of situations. Forever following a friend in an abyss of darkness, fleeing upon a chance of ending this.
"Those many years ago, where she waited for me to do something, I did not. Now this is practically a similar scenario. Not this time...she is waiting, I will reach out, and I won't let go..." His vision more of confidence on the Tyrant.
Pieces inside, rockiness of a path. Wandering in loneliness, untrusting of others. Holding in sentiments of deepness, hatred brewing at the depths. Pushing onward, continuously falling, rising even stronger than before. Wanting what is within, seeking after a desire far inside. Deplorableness of actions, gambling the lives of innumerable. Selfishness guiding her way, softness still remaining. A miracle coming, unable in withstanding any longer. That Tyrant gazing up at the velvet moon, a soul of kindness. Cowardly of him, contradiction to his title. Countless faults within the deity, seeing this bond between his daughter and Valor. Reason for its existence, a connection desperately holding on. Vision on that god, extending his hand afar. Unease from the deity, blackness swirling around the demon. Reaching in, gripping his blade of darkness, ancient of it.
"Words are weak, action is always stronger. I will not allow you to disturb her slumber, prove to me that you will not hurt her again." Alastor glaring at Valor.
One once of mightiness, numerous fearing him. A devil of the land, yearning for heights far above his own. Crushing those beneath him, pushing even further. Ascending to a realm of highness, meeting a goddess of grandness. Combatting her, defeat coming to him. Everything slipping out of his hands, falling below. Her hand of guidance reaching out, stopping his descent. A bond eventually growing, endlessness of possibilities. Horribleness of the worlds, awareness on its cruelness. Mistakes over the years, wishing in finding answers. Coldness of the breeze, immensity of the Tyrant's pressure. An entity capable of challenging the gods, stifling malice. Slowly unsheathing his katana, keeping his eyes on the demon.
Importance in proving himself, intensifying wind. Circulating malevolence, both locking onto the other. Emotions wildly extending in this moment, unwillingness in relenting. Both having their reason, those in the shadows witnessing this. Instantly clashing, glaring at the other. Pushing against one another, determination strongly protruding. Slightly pulling back, fierceness of the Tyrant's uppercut. Narrowly evading, the surroundings rendering asunder. Dashing away, that demon pursuing him. Racing in this blackness, those willing in damning themselves. A wish of simpleness, seeking the nigh impossible. His descending blade, hastiness of that devil.
Two clashing once more, circling the other. Immensity with each collision, shockwaves tearing through. Pressing against one another, a mist of iciness steadily encircling them. Glancing from left to right, that Tyrant paying attention to this. Trickiness of his opponent, indirectness of his form. Shimmering azure from the deity's blade, increasing pressure. Visualizing this line, shifting his stance. Forcing onward, Alastor slightly pulling away, that assault barely passing his shoulder. An opening in his view, homing in on this, plunging his knee into the stomach of the god.
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"Gyah...!!"
Stepping back, enduring the shocking attack. Following up, firmly planting his foot into the chest of the god. Flying across the field, flipping onto his feet, skidding back on the ground. Shaking away the impact, unease from the deity. A heart wanting the nigh impossible, timidness of old. Uncertainness of acting, one waiting for him. Patiently doing so, kindness of her. Once of brightness, hatred consuming her. Torturous experiences, the weight of her despair. Chilling of the surroundings, that Tyrant's blade towards the land. Gazing around, the mist of iciness evaporating. Unnerving of this, nullification of his abilities.
"I am not holding back, you will suffer an ability of an execution level. There are only two that has ever survived this, I wonder if you will be the third." Alastor challenging.
Riding along in this wave, diving far, yearning in reaching one. Confronting a Tyrant, unwillingness in letting him pass. Protectiveness of his child, guilt of deepness. Suffering over the years, trying her hardest. Frustration of greatness, despair continuously extending. Surpassing her trials, insecurities inside of her. Steadily revealing, closeness of her goal. Selfishness of her path, giving up her desire. Shielding a child, her plan in dealing with a weapon. A wrong of old, determination in righting it. Two surviving an ability of enormousness, cruelness of this Tyrant. Beating within, that god bearing witness to this, countless weapons materializing above. Difficulty of this, unable in using his power, that attack locking onto him. Moving back, crouching his stance, readying his katana. Hastiness of his heart, visualizing his way. Connecting those lines, those assaults rushing at him.
Endlessness of their approach, his heightening senses. Scanning his surroundings, trailing the malevolence. A path leading to the Tyrant, slimness of his chances. Willingness in grabbing onto this, quickness of his strikes. Deflecting those weapons, increasing his speed. Swords, lances, spears, numerous staking into the earth. Immensity of this pressure, elevation of it. The heavy shaking, those weapons in between the living and the dead. A graveyard of them, an opportunity coming. Lunging at the Tyrant, colliding at the center, setting off a chain reaction. Wideness of it, iciness racing through, freezing everything. Impressiveness of this, this god holding true to his title. Facing that demon, Alastor immediately appearing before the deity. Crouching his stance, readying his assault. Shocking of this, power from his surroundings. Energy reacting, flurry of attacks striking that god. Crushing against him, negativity responding, darkness locking his body.
"Farewell..." Alastor calmly states.
Cowardice of yore, a friend of nearness. Stillness of him, words speaking more. Retreating into his shell, harming her. A bond throughout time, not knowing of her suffering. Horribleness within, wanting to right this wrong. Going beyond, two sharing a dream of similarity. Heaviness of assaults, negativity linking with each attack. Compressing in each moment, weapons floating around, aiming at him. Closing in, unrelenting resolve. Racing in this abyss of blackness, one residing far inside of it. Unsheathing his katana, forcing against this influence. Swiftness of his strikes, reversing this energy. Devastatingly assaulting the demon, releasing this force. Violently exploding, their surroundings tearing apart. Objects of massiveness wildly flying, fiends seeing this outcome.
"Gyah...!!"
That Tyrant skidding back on his feet, falling to his knee. Gasping for air, Valor stepping back, his heart desperately pounding. Fleetingness of dreams, those wanting in making it into an actuality. One remaining in place, timidness of him. Patience of another, journeying together, niceness of it. Hoping for his presence, that one never coming. A great wrong, a way in righting it. Sighing in relief, that demon rising to his feet. Visions on the other, that devil lowering his weapon. Littleness of chances, a way still existing. His daughter wandering in blackness, one capable of reaching her.
"Very well...I can acknowledge you, but...there is one more you need approval from." Alastor informing.
Harshness of actuality, naturalness of this. Untrusting of him, in awareness on him. Capability of grandness, closing up in times of essentialness. Harming another, wanting to do more. Coming far, venturing into this realm. Risking his own freedom, nearness of two. Importance in pushing, racing in this abyss of darkness. Seeking one residing inside of it, his companion desiring a certain life far within. Closeness in achieving this, possibility in making it into an actuality. Enduring cruelness, her despair of enormousness. Her soul eternally in bondage, her voice forever screaming out.
"Who?" Valor questions.
Shattering tips, pushing onward in a realm of lawlessness. Seeking days of old, becoming the Bringer of Demise. Giving up their chance, wanting her family of togetherness. Selfishness guiding her way, proceeding as herself. Softness still existing, abandoning her desire. Protecting a child, her plan in dealing with a weapon. That Tyrant turning from the deity, heading down the opposite path. Gazing at the forbidden gate, knowing of the person behind it. Malevolence far within, his attention towards the demon. Following along, willingness in gaining approval.
Cyra...just a bit longer. After this...I will find you, and bring you back home. No more tears, no more sorrow...we will be able to smile like in those older days...