He had forgotten about the deep and profound emotions that resided deep within his being. The feelings of sorrow, anger, joy, regret… he had forgotten about them all too well. But it was only now, in this new world, in this new perspective of sorts, where no laws bound him, and no one controlled him, that he had realised. He had control over his own freedom, emotions, and fate. It was a completely new and unfathomable concept to him.
So, when he had finally taken in what seemed to him as an unknown variable. What had seemed to him as an obstruction on his path to power, he realised. It would practically be the same path as his last. A path littered all in but corpses, rage, sorrow, and death. A path that left him alone, isolated, and scarred. He didn't wish for anymore of that, he had resolved himself to change hadn't he?
But now, as he had looked into the eyes of that very spearman, the one slaughtered by his hand, he realised something, he felt something. Something foreign and incomprehensible to him, he had felt regret, sorrow, and rage. It was all there and all so very clear to him, it had reached out to him. It called and beckoned to him, and in that very moment, it wasn't like he had felt but a portion of that very emotion, but he had felt it as a whole. He then reflected on his present and past self as a sole emotion surfaced within him, one of the many emotions he lacked, an emotion known to him as regret. Regret over those lost… taken… killed… Regret over his lack of change, over the countless deaths, the images of those he killed assaulting him at the speed and rate which a machine gun could fire. It was the same back then, and even the same now.
He sighed once more, it had seemed to become a more common occurrence now, the emotions he meant. Appearing one day and gone the next, it was something he found obstructive but at the same time necessary, necessary for change that was. It was something he believe he needed… it was something he wanted. He looked back to his obsidian coloured palms whilst thoughts of regaining what he deemed to be his humanity entered through one ear and out the other. But rather unprecedently and abruptly, one thought dominated them completely as it entered his mind. The thought of how humanity was indeed unnecessary, a hindrance and plague in itself. He reminisced over the ones who had made him this way. They had taken children, orphans, and many others. Ripping them away from their homes, their loved ones, to be but experimented on…
But then again, they had also gifted his friend life out of their own volition, and the soldiers that were produced from the numerous experiments resulted in the preservation of life, hadn’t it? They - the spartans - protected and shielded the many civilians who lived within the confined spaces of their cities, keeping them under their veil of safety from the onslaught of covenant and insurgents that proceeded to assault them. Protected by their artificial guardians, the spartans… but had they truly acknowledged that? Did the people they protected truly see them? Did they see them as people? Or as machines created for but this sole purpose? His mind was divided into two different contradicting opinions of humanity's true nature. Contemplating whether he wished to be similar to them, to be human. Or to rather be himself, to be Nicholas. Not chained down by laws, nor blinded by humanity’s greed.
But as he was in deep thought, he was interrupted by a pack of gray wolves that pounced upon his figure. They bore great fangs as they leaped, mouths gaping in a need for bloodshed, failing to discern the difference in strength in comparison to the figure before them. Seconds later, they fell upon the ground, devoid of life.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The difference in levels were apparent.
*Time skip 40 minutes*
As he had passed through the vegetation and underbrush that obscured his path, his eyes met with the town of Novac. Its buildings lined the outskirts of the field that was used as its foundation as people of different origins roamed in large groups, passing in and out of the gates of the town. Nicholas himself stood in between the shade of the trees. Concealed beneath the canopies and bushes that were placed before him.
He transferred his attention to his clothing, covered in the crimson blood of monsters and humans alike. He visibly contorted his face, albeit slightly, as he took in the grotesque appearance he beared. It was times like these that Nicholas resolved himself that the Succubus was a needed an ally. Since she was an illusionist, he thought that it would be useful in the long run in terms of how he was a demon and those of human descent detested those of his kind. He was, as stated, in the north. The region meant for those of the human race, and a death sentence for those of the demon race, and he planned to keep low in case someone strong were to appear. Someone he could not defeat.
He summoned his familiar, Lia, hoping that she would of recovered over her little outburst as she materialized before him in the underbrush. She looked flustered as she dropped to the ground, a tree nearby supporting her fall. She clumsily got up as she glanced to Nicholas, an abrupt shade of white colouring her face. Fortunately for Nicholas, it was a lighter shade of white. Which Nicholas interpreted to be a sign that she had recovered, well, at least a bit, a bit he had thought.
“Oh fuck... fuck, fuck, FUCK!”, intelligible amounts of words flowed from her mouth as she proceeded to scramble opposite of where he stood. ‘Well,’ Nicholas thought, ‘at least she can speak, this will make things easier to deal with...’, transferring his attention back to Lia. He observed her as her hands grasped along the sides of the tree, using its pole like structure to position herself upright along its trunk. Her eyes, although slightly bloodshot, held their deep crimson glow as they simultaneously began to become moist upon view of his figure once more. It was similar to a dam waiting to burst. Watching the walls slowly crumble, and anticipating the way the calm waters would soon become a flood. It incited Nicholas to pity her, it was a sore view to the eyes after all.
“Stay away! Leave. Me. Alone! I don’t want anymore of this! I don't want to be hurt again…”, her screaming fell upon deaf ears as Nicholas proceeded to ignore her, strutting through the vegetation as he finally arrived facing her. But unprecedently, as abruptly as he appeared before her, he clasped his hand over her mouth. Impeding her from releasing the pent up stress that left her mouth in the form of intelligible screams, prompting a type of silence to permeate throughout the area in its place. But what pierced through that silence soon after it emerged, was a monotonous and hoarse voice that entered the Succubus’ ears.
“Calm down.”, Nicholas was never really good with expressing what he wished to convey through words, right now, he wished for her to just shut up. They were, after all, at the border of a town, and what were to happen if they found him with a young woman, screaming as if her life were at stake? It wouldn't look good at all, would it? But Nicholas also wished to not scare Lia, for it could very likely influence the way she would act in the future. He needed an ally, a friend. Not a hindrance.
Lia quieted down as commanded, trembling in place of her intelligible murmuring. It seemed that it was an effect of not having an outlet for her fears. Her fears of Nicholas, her fears of the past. It rather appeared like she was more terrified now than as she were before… He directed his attention towards the Succubus, wholeheartedly, before finally continuing with his words.
“Get a grip Lia. I will not hurt you… If this problem is rooted to the past, just forget it, let it go… and move on.”, Nicholas tried his utmost best to convey what he could in words, all in an attempt to make her impression of him somewhat better. If it had, he did not know, all he knew was he tried what he could.