Wrinkled was the Latino skin, but not of age rather from voluntary scrunching, a tensing of panic leading to a reaction almost trying to somehow close off the face from outside harm despite such futile action having negligible effect.

Even tightly shut the eyes were, but that would not vanquish any threats, if anything it’d only further empower those threats on a blind target, ultimately putting the victim in a more dangerous position.

Although it cannot be claimed that the reaction was purely in cowardice, for it too could be the instinctual reaction to a heavy gush of wind that would blow uncomfortably against the face and eyes, as the lifting of the long black unkempt hair indicated such event, although it passed even if recently as told by the dropping of said hair back into the flow of the passive breeze, not completely unbothered but not abused either.

In truth the reaction was a combination of the two, as while there was indeed a heavy wind that would’ve blown against him, it was coming from the tightly closed fist just inches away from his face, one wrapped in a flaring blue energy case blazing with the strength beyond man.

But perhaps it was most ironic that the fist belonged to a being of the most mortal form, a man cursed in senility, skin pale and wilted like the leather jacket covering it, grayed and thus softened. Opposite from the messy but full head of hair the mortal was just about bald if it weren’t for the technicalities of the four locks of thin white hairs just dangling off the head, maintained almost out of spite and unwillingness to surrender it all.

Those locks were also lifted in the same gust, but they too began to fall back and return to the flow of the breeze.

The panicked man himself was dressed in a far less casual attire, rather he was suited in a metallic armor with dark silver plating around the neck and on the shoulders with a hood down behind the head, one connected to a cape ruffled still from the gust but almost calmed back into passive waving. Below the shoulders was crimson metallic plating in the shape of scales, and in the center of the chest was a radiating red light in a curved rectangular shape meant to represent an eraser with red streaks emergent from various angles, four straight down and others wrapping around the back, arms, and up to the shoulders. Around said shoulders was also a heavy chain made of a deeply dark red metal, a material resembling obsidian, although the chain wasn’t smooth but rather was made of jagged links wrapped around the neck with the ends hanging over the chest.

Beside that squinter above the rocky gray surface that the two stood on beyond the various white spike towers including one of considerably colossal size and the ring wall as the border for all of it was the cosmos glittered with white stars, but rather than them being accompanied by a Moon they were instead by a globe of different colors, a blue base with green and brown chunks covering over and swirls of white painted above all.

From the other side a strangely overwhelming cyan light was cast such that it engulfed half of the two’s bodies, least severely stronger than any other source but with a color that does provide additional life to the otherwise rather gray mortal holding the fist out.

Whole seconds passed of the face squinted even after the hair fell, but eventually albeit cautiously the face relaxed, relinquishing such tense expression and even opening its crimson red eyes, stars flaring in the irises. The face had the expression of utter disorientation and bafflement, the body frozen the same as the neck for it could stare nowhere else.

Nowhere but the face of the senile man whose arm was extended out, the man with azure eyes although ones jaded without stars, supposedly hollow or either oceanic depending on perspective. Behind the man there were no visible white spikes or ring walls, as instead in an abundance far greater than the white spikes there was a field of others dark red but in an immensely more chaotic fashion as they impaled each other at various angles, completely covering any sight past the field from its sheer density.

Casually the mortal lowered his arm, as despite the initial stance presuming a battle he instead showed little combative intent, his face instead oddly serene. He closed his eyes and let out a soft breath, pushing past any windedness from the prior flight, and after acquiring just enough energy he opened his eyes and returned his gaze to the crimson man.

“Could you do me the favor and keep those stakes up until my signal?” spoke one of the men at last, that being the senile mortal who used a quiet voice, calm and friendly, trusting even to the one who he moments ago seemed to be declaring war on.

Yet the initiation of communication only supplemented the man’s utter stupefaction, still leaving him silent until he finally mustered the rather simple word, “...What?”

To that lackluster response the mortal just closed his eyes and lightly smirked before nodding his head and in a voice of full sincerity thanking, “Thank you, I don’t have much to say, and regardless they’ll eventually bring a pod around so it’d be best I make this efficient.”

Again the crimson man could only stare dumbfounded back, and in the few seconds he spent thinking his best conclusion was: “Huh…is this some sort of trick…a distraction…?”

Although that theory was instantly debunked with the shake of the head by the senile mortal who stepped back, wearing long black pants with gray trims and silver shoes, shoes that kick against the lunar pebbles as he explains placidly, “I don’t intend to deceive you, I intend to offer a simple proposition that I expect will be responded to truthfully.”

He placed his arms by his side, his fist no longer glowing, and after a deep sigh he began to reveal: “I’m unsure if you had known this, but for the past ten years of my life, or more accurately for my life in its entirety I’ve been waiting for you to hunt me again. I hid away, made sure not to leave any traces of my being not only to not alert the masses but also in knowing I’d be alerting you. Especially as my own abilities waned, the fear of needing to combat you loomed over me. I figured it’d be a few weeks or months until you caught me, any plans past a year felt ignorant.”

He then stepped to the side to get a better view past the crimson man’s shoulder, specifically eyeing the central white spike, the tallest of them all, the gate open and the heaps of corpses strung by metal exoskeletons visible even from afar. Sighing from the gruesome sight, he noted in a voice still serene despite the reminder of what horrors had occurred just within the past minutes, “I knew when you would eventually find me you’d leave a trail of others…it’s why I was so reluctant to let any specific person accompany me for any extended duration, let alone live in my house, and it seems this may be punishment for my abstraction.”

Shaking his head and stepping back, the senile mortal began to pace back and forth as he continued, “I knew that as long as you didn’t know of my existence I wouldn’t be chased by you, that much was clear. However…what did start to elude me was why in all those many years you hadn’t sought to cause any disturbances of your own, there was not a single report of any attacks of any scale connected to you, and trust me I did search for an instance, I was waiting for you to do something, anything, yet you never did. It was…curious for a while…in the past every now and then you’d commit some horrendous crime seemingly for the sake of it, you’ve even tried collapsing skyscrapers in Versepolis which could’ve killed thousands if not more.”

An eyebrow of the crimson man raised in apprehension to the strange monologue, and in a tone more aggressive he demanded, “What are you trying to get at? Do you think I’ve grown soft, now all the sudden?”

Suddenly the mortal stopped pacing, gazing straight at the crimson man at an instant and asking so calmly, “Tell me Exitium, how’s Rica been?”

From apprehensive to immediately hostile, the crimson man’s starry eyes flared as he began approaching and threatening, “What the hell do you think you’re-.”

Without taking a single step back, the mortal just used his words to reveal, “Exitium, I understand now. In all the years we’ve fought I’ve finally come to realize a fact so simple, so elementary that it’s honestly obscene that I hadn’t yet…you do have your own life.”

Just as instant again the crimson man froze up, although not with the same agitation as prior but further back bemusement again, tilting his head lost for words.

Only another step away from the devil, the mortal stood his ground and charted in a tone that never rose, “I apologize as in truth I may have tracked you down and stalked you in an irrational fear of you noticing clues of my existence, but I came to realize that in a situation disregarding myself, you do lead a normal life. You do have colleagues, friends, a normal job, you might have tried to give the impression that you’re different from everyone but you’ve at the same time put in the effort to live with them.”

Again anger began to boil in the devil who contended in a risen voice, “I am different, and so are you. These people are not us, they’re nothing, if I cared about humans why would I slaughter them so thoughtlessly then? You either are trying to deceive me or you're delusional yourself.”

“It was because of me,” the question was answered.

Blinking twice in perplexion, the crimson man asked for clarification again stunned, “What do you-,”

Stepping back and again pacing in front of the man, the mortal reflected meditatively, “All this bloodshed, every life you’ve taken, all of these hateful thoughts that made you into what I believed to be a soulless monster, they’ve all occurred because of me. You only committed crimes when you knew it’d get a reaction out of me, even these lives you’ve robbed today were in service of luring me out.”

He then stopped and faced head on with the man before analyzing, “But when I’m not there, I can’t mark a single person you hurt. For ten years you did not take a life, and only when I made the mistake of letting my identity be released did you start, all in the hunt for me. Had you not known of my presence, I doubt you’d have done what you’ve done to those officers and the other victims you’ve taken.”

He then began pacing again circles around the man while deriving, “Perhaps you did once cause destruction and take lives for the simplicity of causing me sorrow, I understand now you never did intend to kill me that day, you just wanted to torture me, your attempt at my life was mere self defense. But I realize now your goals have changed, for so many years have we played this game of chase and now the thrill isn’t there. You don’t care about torturing me anymore, if you did you could have easily murdered those three at any moment but you didn’t, they lured me out here and you understand there to be no reason to do further harm. I admit, even now I don’t believe I truly understand why your hatred of me is as strong as it is, and perhaps that is an impossible truth to find. But that isn’t the truth of my interest any longer, now I understand your true mission. You wish for me to be gone,” and as the mortal made a full semicircle he stepped in front of the source of that aforementioned cyan light, as half of the cosmic view had been covered by the ginormous supersun so close it’s flares and spots could be seen, so close it felt like it was in the process of eating them all.

In front of the overpowering cyan backdrop the man rose both of his arms up freely and proposed: “So very well, if it means bringing you the peace to continue your life, and if you vow not to do harm to the three who I’m guilty of tangling into this mess from the beginning, then you can have my life.”

At the climax of not only the speech but the utter bewilderment to the crimson man, what was of the devil just blinked and asked dumbfounded, “Wait, you won’t fight me? What was this all for then? All this resistance you’ve caused, all this running you’ve done, if you’re just giving up here? After everything I did to find you, you’re really just going to quit?? Without a fight??!! I can’t tell if this is some clever deception to make me feel sorry for you so I won’t want to put you down, because trust me that will has not wavered, one of us dies right here right now.”

Standing in front of the blazing blue sun, Meditat just smiled and proclaimed, “You’re not my enemy, you’re my brother. I may never find the strength to forgive you for the atrocities you’ve committed all the way up to today, but I know that you have the capacity for living a life coexisting peacefully with other people. And you’re right, I could have stopped any time until now, and this may be selfish and immature but the truth is…I just wanted the experience of being a part of a team again. You could call it a last wish. But I’ve lived my life, my story here is just about done whereas you still have much ahead of yourself. And I know so do they, you all have futures, great futures, and even if I won’t be able to watch them I’ll know. So I do give up here, and I don’t intend to fight you, not anymore. You may bring down the wall, and when you’re ready, you can do what you must.”

That is when in those fiery monstrous crimson eyes of the devil, tears began to form a film over like a lid, growing at the bottom despite being held back.

Frozen in place, Exitium just gazed blankly without realization of his own reaction, and in a voice trying to remain tough but wavering he threatened, “I will kill you, if you don’t block my strike it will end you, I don’t know what this gamble is but it will not work on me.”

“I know,” admitted Meditat before nodding his head and again permitting, “You can lower the wall when you’re ready. If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like to see them once more before you send me on my way.”

Clenching his teeth from the confliction of emotion, Exitium just warned “If this is some trick, I swear I’ll-.”

“We both know we’ll never defeat you, despite what false hopes I’ve fed them in the end this was only going to end one way,” again admitted Meditat, but not before sighing contently and declaring, “But I accept it now.”

Almost grimacing from the clear tearing of ideals within him, Exitium winced as behind him the field of black spikes all suddenly gleamed red, combusting into crimson flames that quickly lost their shape and began dispersing, first leaving the field covered in red smoke before that then cleared up, revealing the distant other spike towers but more importantly the parking lot in the far distance housing several black van pods, and from one of them a man in a brown coat stepped out facing their way.

“I…I’m going to throw a punch…and if you don’t dodge it…or block it…it will kill you…,” warned Exitium yet again.

“I trust you,” simply responded Meditat, still smiling in front of the cyan storm, the gateway out.

Fighting himself to keep his tears from escaping, Exitium held his tongue and lowered it as in the distance a woman with a white hoodie stepped out of the same pod but from the other side.

He shook his head before asking again, his voice becoming less intimidating and more mixed with the sobs pushing against the door: “But you know I could just kill them after killing you…and then this whole sacrifice would be meaningless. You know that right?”

“I trust you, brother,” again simply responded Meditat, not having moved out of the way, his arms still at his side, defenseless against a strike.

In preparation Exitium closed his right fist tightly, squeezing it in fact as hard as he could, practically stabbing his nails through his gloves into his palms with how hard he tensed. In front of him just a couple feet away stood Meditat, his arms by his side, his palms open, his posture straight at a casual stance.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Exitium’s long black hair waved in the calm breeze just as Meditat’s thin white locks, yet they waved just as majestically if not more. Exitium’s jagged cape too danced in the current, the design of the cape intentionally meant to convey the sense of being ripped up, paired appropriately with the unkempt nature of his hair.

Far behind them came unintelligible shouting from the familiar close friend, shouting Exitium nearly turned his head to face before stopping himself, the sound of heavy footsteps slightly rumbling the surface beneath their feet to which Meditat asked, “Exitium?”

Raising his head up to meet Meditat’s gaze, Exitium asked almost in a whisper trying to suppress his own voice, “Yes?”

Gently smiling while the devil in front of him was struggling against his own tears, Meditat simply wished, “Live a peaceful life, okay?”

That is when in the distance the raspy shouting can be heard even if quieted by distance: “WHAT ARE YOU DOING, GET IN THE DAMN POD, WE STILL GOT MORE ADVENTURES YOU DUMBASS!! WE’RE NOT DONE YET!!!”

Lowering his head and sighing as though having suddenly remembered a crucial detail in the heat of the moment, Meditat chuckled to himself before admitting, “Ah damn…this is rather ironic now isn’t it…” as his azure eyes began to become reflective.

In the distance the man in the brown overcoat, the woman in the white hoodie, and now in between them another woman but in a black suit approached in a sprint, the woman’s legs golden that being the source of the rumbling.

As the woman in the white hoodie shrieked with a voice getting louder the closer they reached the two: “WAIT…I WANTED TO TELL YOU…THAT I’M SORRY,” Exitium whose eyes were now watery without question asked gently, “Huh?”

With the final desperate declaration from that same voice being made of: “AND I WANTED TO ASK…IF I COULD BE YOUR FRIEND,” Meditat turned to face the direction of the three friends as he admitted, “I’ve never wanted to live this badly,” his words spoken in pain with eyes that had become watery, and yet through it all he wore that sincerely heartfelt smile, one that he flashed to his team one last time.

That signal given even if in a way that served a punch to the gut, Exitium nonetheless slid his right foot back against the rocks, raised his fist, and charged the chains wrapped around his arm with an ignition of crimson flames that danced chaotically.

And with that, all he had left to do was to throw that one punch to the chest.

And he did just that, with the contact erupting a powerful blast that immediately shot Meditat’s body off his feet into the air.

And as Meditat’s body was lifted from the lunar surface off to the stream to the gates past what’s beyond, and as Dana, Kokei, and Ekitai continued to rush towards him in desperate futilities on the verge of tears–pushing all they had with every step–, Exitium’s arm extended out in followthrough of his punch by his flowing hair and cape, the shockwave of the strike expelled out in all directions, also blowing back Dana’s and Kokei’s hair.

And at that very moment those tears were unleashed from his starry watery eyes, pouring down his cheeks, facing away from the friends of his brother, his long messy black completely clearing his face to fully expose it in its agony, the water distorting the stars within.

For how could they know that the monster who murdered their team leader cried doing it?

And still out in the Superverse that monster roams, seated inside the gray interior of the pod at the driver’s helm, his hair kempt in a manbun, dressed professionally in the gray suit that he had for the whole day as the side window beside him showed the silver city in night, streaks of the rainbow lighting up the streets from the towers below the starry black sky.

In reflection of the recent memory that hadn’t yet ceased his mind the man frowned, his own stars dim as the only sound in the interior is the passive hum of the engine.

From the flowing blue river in the sky the gray sedan pod diverges, making a clean turn and heading towards a nearby highrise, but unlike the smooth slender skyscrapers it is instead a sharp rectangular tower, one with distinct cubic blocks of composition split by canopies.

Gradually the gray pod depresses on its way to the apartment complex beneath the white moon, submerging under the river, diving into the unseen.

Past the wall of bushes the groomed dancing lawn that sits beside the silver driveway, the gray sedan pod approaches from afar, the streets further away and this part quieter albeit not silent as the blue traffic still reaches even if with its fingertips.

From the lawn however the single engine hum of the sedan overwhelms the rest of the traffic the nearer it approaches, not ferocious though but more mellow like a yawn, only taking prominence due to transition to the foreground.

At last, delayed by a whole day the pod finally reaches over the edge of the driveway, decelerating down to a crawl with the shushing of the engine but not preventing the brushing of the grass and bushes from the initial entrance, yet they calm near instantly.

Just about a foot off the smooth driveway the pod creeps up until it reaches the end where it then comes to a full stop, the hum still present but substantially soother. It persists for another several seconds before finally silencing, and a few moments later the driver’s door dematerializes, followed again by a pause but then the departing of the man in the gray suit, stepping beside his vehicle and firstly patting down his blazer to rid the creases.

He then promptly turns around and begins a stroll down the canopy right beside the bushes, passing the green patch of commercial life while being met by a small red holographic screen that he taps on without stopping, which after a few seconds leads to a projecting blue light casting over the gray pod and consuming it whole. Once the blue shell fully wraps around the pod it then vanishes along with the vehicle, stored to be driven another day.

Down to the other side of the lawn the man reaches before turning to face the huge silver wall completely opaque, only given color by the bushes that sit at its foot. He approaches part of the wall with a distinct frame for a door, one that dematerializes into a cloud that takes about a second to disperse completely, revealing the interior of his home although pitch black.

He pauses for a moment after noticing its utter darkness, sighing in discontent before then without another choice continuing inside.

Only the faint light from outside passes into the spacious but dark apartment, its true scale not discernible for there lacks even the light from the wall once the great window, for it is instead pitch black too without display.

All that is visible is the silhouette of the resident stepping inside, his head glancing from side to side with the only sound being the passive curtling until he murmurs to himself, “I thought I paid for the electric bill...come on,” while continuing deeper without anxiety due to it being his own home, a safe haven only he could control as dGhlIHJvb3Qgc2xpdGhlcnMuCg==

A few steps in and the single source of light vanishes as the door materializes in a whoosh, absolutely blackening the apartment with not even a distinct line tracing a shape perceivable.

Although even then the footsteps continue, moving closer to the center and further from the exit, cautious but not particularly anxious. Every step causes a creaking from the wooden floor like that of the cabin, echoing unrestrained in the open thus somewhat hollow interior. Every step is emphasized and captured even if unwillingly, every movement tracked even in the deepest pitches of black.

To the rescue a single concentrated dot of white light projects onto the wooden floor beneath the caster, the light’s bleed minimal for the circle is sharp, hardly lighting anything but that one foot diameter of the floor.

That light is then raised straight forward for a more relevant direction, emitting off the hand of the user to get sight towards the kitchen past the long black roots emergent from the floor although only to instead come short and spread to faintly reveal an inhumanly robust silhouette about ten feet tall with disproportionately broad shoulders and thick limbs spikes running along all of them same as the top of the head.

Strange enough the light noticeably fails to reach its natural range, instead being suspended by a strange force like a barrier, only allowing it to expand in width to disperse its excess energy.

That spread light along with the dim edges of the beam too exposes the infestation of dark extraterrestrial constructs jutting from and returning into the floor and furniture, constructs shaped like the roots of a tree but with a subtle pulsation, faintly lighting up by thin whiteley glowing edges and an almost caustic white pattern, as do countless more far beyond the reach of the flashlight as they’re practically crawling all over the apartment, even on the walls and ceiling, some larger than others or branching off into more, all of them with a slimy casing likely part of the caustic pattern.

Immediately the dimly visible eyes of the resident sharpen to the intruder he points to with his hand projecting the light. Luminescent is the glare he imposes as he threatens sternly, “I don’t know who you think you are, but you broke into the wrong house. I’ll generously let you take your leave now, or I’ll force it myself.”

“You were substantially easier to track, Exitium,” speaks a voice nonhuman, although not in an electric distortion or demonic either, for there was no semblance of a human tone beneath but rather the voice naturally carries a deep extraterritoriality, but one with an authoritarian volume not raised but rather resonant, echoing perhaps from the lack of enclosures but amplified by a natural rumble in the voice, for unlike a voice module’s distortions it instead had a different set of natural variables distinguishing it from any other speaking life form.

Not a single motion is read on the silhouette, for it may very well be a cutout if not for the weighty presence.

Exposed by the greeting of the intruder, the resident pushes out a sigh exhausted and shakes his head before retorting casually, “Do you just say that hoping one day you’ll find him? I shouldn’t say this regardless but my name is Dexter, I don’t know what prank this is but it doesn’t warrant your break-in.”

“After a lifetime since your Father’s banishment you still remain disposed,” simply notes the Shadow in a tone calm although lacking any friendliness.

All the sudden the crimson stars flare bright as the resident takes a step forward and in a tone again stern but even more he demands, “What are you talking about?”

Behind the black roots the Shadow brushes off, “Regardless you will be of purpose. I need the location of Meditat,” the responses short, brief, impersonal.

Yet something clicks in for the resident, a smirk creeping up his face suddenly from the dawn of an opportunity, and alas burns his facade with the crimson flames that burst off his body, encasing him whole before cementing and colorizing into the crimson hide of the Devil, the eraser emblem emitting red light that pours down the body and up the dark silver pauldron beneath the black mask with flaring lenses under the hood attached to the jagged cape.

Gone is the commercial flashlight, but in replacement is the passive red glow from his body. In the crimson light the resident speaks again but in the demonic voice of the Devil who judges, “I understand now, it all makes sense. You wish to form an alliance with me to hunt Meditat down? I have to admire your confidence, especially if you know who I am and that I could have easily melted you the moment you showed yourself.”

He chuckles devilishly and shakes his head before then accepting, “Either way I accept your alliance, I might not know where he is but I know full well how to lure him out of any corner.”

Whereas the flashlight was direct and reached the Shadow even if suspended, the passive red glow of the armor does provide more aerial light to the nearby roots but it fails to reach the Shadow, causing it to vanish in front of the Devil, for there is no knowing if it is still present.

The lack of sound too calls into question if it still remains, for it does not speak, its weight becomes imperceivable, and it just leaves the Devil puzzled although still anticipatory.

That’s then when white streaks pulsate from the darkness, forming the outline of the Shadow, unstable as it YnJpZ2h0ZW5zIA== and ZGltcw==, and from that reemergent presence the Shadow calmly observes, “To think you are of the most powerful beings of reality itself yet your purpose is as meaningless to dedicate your existence in opposition to your own, I had hoped for greater purpose from you but I see now how leased you really are.”

Stunned by the sharp insult spoken so cooly, the Devil growls enraged and steps forward, the chains wrapped around its arms starting to brighten red hot as he mutters in clear hostility, “Excuse me, you’re stepping out of line now. You want my alliance, fine, but I will not be mocked by whoever you are. I am anything but leased, if you know of Father you know that it was I who killed him, like I did to his replacements. It was me who slaughtered The Shield and…ridded Meditat for all this time, so you respect me or the deal is off.”

“Yes, I know very well the delays you’ve caused,” recites the Shadow, the outline thickening for a moment almost in a silent grunt of irritation yet without any change in tone for, “And I know the tantrums you’ve let out. The degradation of quality of both of you to your Father is unfortunate, it will be work to make use of you, especially if you still bind yourselves so intimately to this system he created. I despise agreeing with your Father, but:”

“You really are-.”

In just these words the Shadow’s figure flashes the image of the Man in the White Blazer, those blinding white eyes of judgment cast down on the young teen boy.

“-a disappointment.”

Rage boils within the Devil whose chains don’t only redden, but from its hands blast crimson flames that swiftly manifest into viking axes, their dark red metal instantly set ablaze in maximum power, the blades clashing against each other with red sparks from a spin as the Devil bellows, “I’LL SHOW YOU NOT TO DISRESPECT ME!” before charging head on at the silhouette a few strides before leaping forth, arching both arms back in preparation for a full frontal assault.

Not a limbic shift.

Not a single movement.

SnVzdCBhIGJsYWNrIGZsYXNoLgo=

QSBzdHJlYWsgZnJvbSB0aGUgZGFya25lc3Mu

In an instant unseen.

Flaming red the left axe primes to fire as the entire right side of the body from the collar down the leg vanishes in black, not struck but deleted.

From a bellowing roar to an agonizing shriek Exitium reaches his target but fails his strike instead collapsing on the floor, dropping the left axe instinctively and grabbing where his right shoulder would be, that entire side of his body red but from within as a pool pours out from the wound he grips the squishy flesh of.

Right in front of the head of Exitium, whose hood and mask dissolve in a red flame to reveal his excruciating expression wincing horridly and unleash his long black hair no longer bound in a bun, the foot remains standing outlined in white, the foot inhumanly large as it’s enough to crush an entire torso, but furthermore the front arc of the foot resembles the clawed feet of a beast.

“I will find Meditat by my own means, and I will make use of the both of you. Your potential may be inhibited, but I will help you achieve it, and together we will resolve the mistakes your Father made. All of them.”

Suddenly a profuse bright yellow light flickers and devours into the space, although in reality it is the default intensity of the apartment lighting that has reactivated, providing full perception of the apartment to find that no longer is the foot there.

In fact there is no longer the Shadow at all, not its silhouette, not the black roots that were just before swarming the home.

Instead the apartment is in a clean state just as it was when the resident had left for his meeting, the furniture intact and in place, the floors shining and spotless as the walls and ceiling of the second floor looming over.

The only mess in fact is the crimson pool spilling out of the resident, having grown enough that the entire body is now lying on it.

Alone is the resident, no family, no friends, no other occupants despite the surplus of furniture as all the sofas and tables, just him alone in a pool of his blood in the middle of his apartment by the entrance of the kitchen, the whole right wall again displaying the window screen of the silver metropolis alive with vibrant colors under the beautiful night sky.

Wincing in agony with the gritting of his teeth and squeezing of his eyes, Exitium expels crimson flames off of his wounded half which reshapes to complete the shoulder, torso, and hips as well as form the right arm and leg which then materializes in just a couple seconds, already integrated in the crimson suit, the suit of the monstrous Devil now lying in a pool of his own blood, still wincing as he starts to breathe heavily and rapidly in attempt to calm himself.

He opens his starry eyes, expanded in genuine terror as his hyperventilating continues if only intensifying, for despite the reputation he had achieved it was as though he saw the true devil with his own eyes.

No, a god.

One whose choice of wording engraved a morbid dread in the careless murderer.

One who has declared his next target.

For the first time, he feared for his nemesis.

QmVjYXVzZSBvZiB0aGUgdHJhZ2VkeSBoZSdkIGJlIGZvcmNlZCB0byBjb21taXQu