The inherent inclination of humanity leans towards cruelty and malevolence. Attempting to restrain or alter this innate aspect is ultimately fruitless; instead, we would gain much if we gave in to the destruction that our souls crave.
Aegon Valerion, High Duke of Blood
Sunstone Kingdom, Year 2275.
----------------------------------------
When Aodhán finally regained consciousness, he found himself in a room crafted with rectangular white tiles. It vaguely reminded him of a hospital ward but lacked the nauseating scent of antiseptics. The entire room was bare, at least the part within his field of vision.
Groggily, Aodhán tried to take in his surroundings but found his neck uncooperative, and after several seconds of trying, he concluded that any movement was, at the moment, impossible.
Before fear and confusion could overwhelm him, though, the room suddenly collapsed in on itself, as if space were destabilizing, and the next instant, the room disappeared, completely replaced by a vast blue sky and beautiful golden clouds.
It only took a moment for Aodhán to realize that he was experiencing a sort of vision; the colors of the sky and clouds were all wrong, bleeding into each other like a bad watercolor painting.
He turned to observe his surroundings and immediately let out a shrill sound that was definitely not manly.
"I'm floating among the clouds!" He exclaimed in amazed confusion after he realized that he wasn't in any danger of falling and dying a gruesome death.
"Okay, roll with it, Aodhán. It's just a dream."
He took several deep breaths to control his fear, before turning his attention to the grand city of silver and gold sprawled out below him.
It was beautiful. Several buildings jutted into the sky; their style and design broke just about every law of physics he knew. The buildings were a mix of medieval and futuristic architecture, their silver structures gleaming with golden light.
At the epicenter of the city, a central tower rose up to the sky in defiance, surrounded by what seemed to be a castle built around it. Golden spires from the castle reached up to the sky like needles, their points like arrow heads, aimed at the heavens.
On the central tower, the number 7 was written in bold letters, and although he had no idea what it meant, it seemed important. Wide black roads weaved around the city, making it look more like a grid or maze than an actual city.
The city was crowded with people who moved about their daily lives, their medieval clothes ruffling in a non-existent breeze. Aodhán could barely hear a thing this high up, but he couldn't help but appreciate the beauty of the scene before him.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
A look of amazement and awe bloomed on his face as he took in the beautiful sight, but when he turned to take in more of the city, a man suddenly appeared, floating alongside him.
The man was clad in a military silver uniform, etched with flowing black runes. His white hair billowed in the non-existent breeze, and an intense pressure emanated from him.
The man turned to stare at him, and Aodhán gulped when sparks of lightning flashed out of his golden runic pupils. He was beautiful, perhaps too beautiful, but his eyes were frigid and dead-looking, as if he had no care for human life at all.
The man said nothing to him; instead, he turned to the city below, and almost instantly, the sound of an alarm blared loudly from the central tower.
The city was immediately plunged into disarray as the citizens panicked, but the man's impassive disposition barely changed. He raised his right hand slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, and the golden clouds immediately lost their hue, transforming into a storm of dark clouds.
Thunder rumbled dangerously above us, and in only a few seconds, the day turned as dark as night.
Multiple individuals, dressed in military uniforms of silver and gold, surged out of the panicked crowd, flying towards them with their faces set into a mask of fury and determination.
Screams of fear and terror echoed out of the city as the storm built, growing darker even as thunder boomed loudly in his ears. Flashes of lightning streaked across the dark clouds, foretelling a tale of impending ruin.
The man ignored the approaching soldiers, and with a single finger movement, multiple tornadoes of dark, cutting winds and lightning, so large that they beggared comprehension, descended on the soldiers as well as the city below them, immediately plunging it into chaos and wrecking havoc.
A blue energy shield flickered into being above the entire city, but various beams of colored lightning struck down immediately, destroying it before it was even halfway formed.
More beams rushed down as thunder boomed, their arcs splitting as they surged into the now-defenseless city, killing hundreds in an instant and destroying even more.
The incessant flashes of lightning blinded him, but the cries of thousands reached his ears even at this height. Wails of terror echoed out as innocents either mourned the deaths of their loved ones or ran for their lives.
Aodhán watched in horror, helpless, as an entire city was destroyed in minutes. He tried to shout, cry, or beg, but shock held him motionless as his eyes took in the calamity before him.
All that was left of the once-beautiful city was rubble and scrap metal, except for the central tower, which, though battered, remained standing.
The man turned to him as the storm died and the sky returned to its previous beauty, as if to mock the horror and destruction below.
"Weaklings! The whole lot of them." The man sneered, his voice like the distant rumbling of thunder. Aodhán shook, scared to look at the man, but when he finally did, he found the man staring at him, his countenance calm and collected as if he hadn't just murdered thousands of innocents in the past minute.
Nausea roiled within him, but it was completely overshadowed by terror. The man smiled, revealing extremely white teeth, and Aodhán flinched in horror.
"You think me a monster, don't you, little seed?" The man asked a moment later, frowning at Aodhán's actions, and when Aodhán failed to respond, the man stretched a palm towards him.
After seeing what just befell an entire city, because of a single finger movement, Aodhán railed against his mind, screaming and crying for salvation, but his prayers went unanswered.
As the man's hand closed in, Aodhán gathered all of his will and slapped himself so hard that he felt his skull rattle. Pain lanced through him, piercing through the haze of his mind, and with a final push, the vision shattered.