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    Light in the Darkness Part 2

    Mythal Ragnos
    Mythal Ragnos

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    Lineage : Heir to Darkness
    Position : Saint of Might
    Posts : 564
    Guild : Rune Knights
    Cosmic Coins : 50
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Age : 31
    Mentor : Nessa Cordelia Lux (Former)
    Experience : 3,545,154

    Character Sheet
    First Magic: Kami No Ken Sutairu O Taosu
    Second Magic: Kingdom Darkness Embodiment
    Third Magic: Incoming...

    Light in the Darkness Part 2 Empty Light in the Darkness Part 2

    Post by Mythal Ragnos on February 7th 2019, 1:07 am

    I've been out there and seen the things she's made


    Mythal didn’t know  how long he was stuck in place, how long time had been frozen for. His entire body felt like it had lost its energy, everything limp and hanging from him. His thoughts were stuck in a loop of racing too fast and not existing at all. All the information that Archimedes had bestowed upon him, all the terrible things he had taunted him with and the revelations he had dropped, swam through his fluid mind like fish in a sea. How had it come to this? Right as he was beginning to push himself to a point of pushing back against his fears, to fighting against the current that ran inside of him, the entire damn broke and immersed him in the hellish waters of contempt and despair. The archangel truthfully had earned his title this day, by devastating his blood child’s hopes and dreams in one swift stroke.

    His eyes lifted from the ground mournfully, slowly tracing up the world until they were looking into the dark woods beyond. The darkness was there, swallowing up the trees, bushes and living creatures within the forested area right beyond. That was his life; cast in a never-ending shadow that seemed intent on swallowing any goodness or tangible form. There was Faera, her claws stretching out to tear at the world around him and bring it into the ocean of darkness from whence she lived and flourished. There was Archimedes, the Archangel that was his father apparent and master of manipulation and devastation. Whatever manner of creatures lay just beyond his eyesight, mere hours away from infecting this world and wiping it clean of all life?

    Perhaps the most devastating news was the knowledge that his life was based on a lie. He’d settled into the belief and feeling that he despised humanity. He’d always believed that he saw through their outer forms and into the darkened, corrupted husks beneath that were so greedy, manipulative and savage. And in that knowledge came the understanding that he could never truly love one of them because he would never be able to see past those flaws to even consider them worth his time while he, at the same time, felt the same abhorrent nature towards himself. This world was useless and its inhabitants more so. But to discover that his feelings and emotions had circumvented that; that he was capable of feeling love for a human, a wonderful and truly spectacular woman, had given him a glimmer of hope. But it was a ruse – his self-deprecation of his own race and fear of affection had been side effects of his birth, genetic tags that his father had put into him when he bred his mother.

    Now the day had come that he attempted to bypass his decades-bred feelings and it could very well be his last on this planet. He let out a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, his vision becoming as dark and bleak as his future was. His future though – just because it had to be his last, didn’t mean it had to be everyone else’s. He’d grown stronger since he had decided to open himself up to the members of Fairy Tail. He’d become a more caring and giving person, one that cherished life, thanks to Serilda. Had this fated moment come even a day before, he may have been so destroyed by the news mixing in with his own shame and hurt that he wouldn’t have the strength to carry on. He’d just sit back and wait for the world to end. But his conclusive choice to rise above his weaknesses, to break through the walls preventing him from living his life fully, had been a… god send, in a perverse way. As his eyes slowly reopened, the devastation that had been wrought into his world had faded and there was a new fire burning within. His hands still shook slightly but it was small, almost indecipherable. He took a breath once more, inhaling the fresh air that somehow still revitalized his lungs despite the world in its frozen state.

    As he stood to his feet, he could feel the world beginning to press forward. The wind brushed against his cheeks gently, like the gracious touch of a lover. The rustling of leaves, the creaking of the branches from the trees and the sound of Gren finally being able to relieve himself all filled his ears as time released itself and returned to its normal flow. The Star Wolf finished up and gave a little shake of his rear, panting happily as he turned and wuffed lightly at Mythal. The God Slayer bent down in a crouch, holding out his hand for the pup. It hustled over to him and pressed its face against his fingers, demanding affection. He gave it – gentle scratches around the ears and under the chin.

    “Good boy,” he said softly, a weak but firm smile on his face. The pup wuffed once more as Mythal rose and clicked his tongue, signaling to the hound that it was time to follow. The two of them went back into Serilda’s house. The hound immediately went back over to the chair next to the couch and curled up on its seat, resting his head on his tail and getting himself comfortable. The God Slayer had stopped right before the coffee table, still pushed unceremoniously out of the way, and looked at Serilda, still slumbering away on the couch. His gaze lingered for only a moment longer before he began his search. He knew Serilda liked to write in a journal and, as such, that meant that she must have had some writing utensils around the house. After a precarious search, he managed to find himself a pen and some blank pieces of paper. Four of them were needed, as far as he was concerned – no more would truly care what he had to say. He wasn’t even sure the other three would either but he felt compelled to still pen something of an explanation.

    He decided to start with the simplest one first and would work himself up to the last one. With the pen in hand, he began the first letter.

    Sorano,

    I know you probably don’t know me, or at least really. I was a Fairy Tail wizard who joined only a few months ago, having wandered off the street desperate for jewel and some warm food. I never expected to use your guild for more than a means to get paid and then eventually move on without concern. I’ve never been one for making connections and I wasn’t about to try and start with a wizard guild that, frankly, I didn’t care about. Sorry if this seems blunt; I don’t really know any other way to write it.

    But much to my surprise, I found I started to bond with people. It started with getting assigned a mentor in Nessa and branched out to Markus, who I found a kindred spirit in. After that, I found myself… strangely comfortable within the guild. Not even comfortable but enjoying myself and my time there. I made friends, I worked with other members who I never thought I’d spare a thought on. Before long, I had become more open and social than I had ever been before. It was exciting and terrifying all at the same time but I never stopped trying to open up my connections and see what it got me.

    This makes this last part very hard to write. Though I’ve come to care for Fairy Tail, I might even say love, it seems my time as a member has come to an end. Perhaps I should have known it was coming all along but I guess I had a hope that I could live in the fantasy for longer. I guess I can’t. You once signed my name on a job that, for lack of a better phrase, embarrassed the hell out of me. I did it still; I’m not one for refusing jobs, even if they do require me to wear a… tutu. But you claimed that you owed me one because of it. I’ve never really considered calling in any kind of favor before but like I said, I’m learning a lot of things aren’t what I expected. Do me the favor and just relieve me of my position, no questions asked. It’s time for me to move on and I don’t want anyone worrying about the where’s or the why’s. I went away and that is that. I don’t plan on coming back but I wanted to write this so you know how much I appreciated my time with Fairy Tail. There are things about it I don’t agree with but the people within are good people, people I truly enjoyed. If it weren’t for Fairy Tail and it’s members, I don’t know how well off I’d be today. So thank you… for the chance to be a part of the guild.

    -Mythal


    Well, that one wasn’t as easy as he had originally hoped. Talking in depth about Fairy Tail had struck a chord in him and he had to take a minute to calm his heart, as it was pounding in his chest like a drum. He took a breath and folded the letter up, putting it aside so he could start the next one.

    Nessa,

    This isn’t the way I would do this if I had a choice but I don’t have much of one. You deserve better than this and I’m sorry you’re not getting that respect. I know I’m not your mentee anymore technically but that doesn’t mean I don’t still consider you someone I could truly learn from. When we met, I was a wreck past hope. I was more than happy to lay in my darkened waters and just be there, without anyone else bothering me. And that last thing I wanted was anyone ‘mentoring’ me in anything. As far as I cared to know, I was the only one with my particular skillset and was more than happy to just live in that. But I was forced to become a mentee and I’ll admit – I was not thrilled with finding out it was you at first. You were so spirited, so friendly and bubble, so… young. It seemed like a terrible fit.

    But you proved me wrong. You were all those things but they weren’t just this show of face, this façade to hide your darker, more selfish thoughts. You were genuinely a good person that cared about everyone, even those ones that you just barely met. Your attitude was… infectious, to say the least. I’m not saying I’m the nicest guy around at all but you helped crumble the walls, weakened them so I could start feeling nicer to the other people in the guild, and to the people outside of it. I don’t have any family – or kind of do, it’s complicated now – but you very quickly became like my sister. I could never really decide between younger or older because while you have your younger moments, you also have these moments of absolute maturity that surpasses even the wisest people. I know I didn’t spend a lot of time with you but I want you to know that for the amount of time I did, I will cherish it.

    Now I have to ask a favor, one I hope you’ll take seriously. Don’t look for me. I’m going beyond where anyone can find me and chances are I’m not coming back. I don’t want you falling into any danger for my sake when I’m doing what I feel I need to do. Please just continue to live your life, because I know you’ll make it a wonderful one. And give Markus a chance – he’s not as bad as he seems.

    Take care,
    Mythal


    He knew that one was going to hurt; not just himself but Nessa too. Though their time together as friends had been short, he knew she was the kind of person that formed bonds and held them tightly. This letter was going to sting but it would be better than his disappearing without any answer at all.
    He set that letter down and to the side as well, sighing as he did so. Then came the next one.

    Markus,

    I know this kind of thing isn’t really high on your list but I still felt you deserved something. Since we met, you’ve been a constant ally, a reliable guild member and a friend I knew I could trust. Though we came from different backgrounds, we had a lot more in common than any I’ve found in this world. You understood things about myself that many wouldn’t and still don’t to this day. Having that kind of connection was important, because it helped me come to grips with what I am and what I can do. It helped me grow stronger and with Nessa’s help, made me a better person. I won’t make this long and tedious, because I know you’re not really a fan of that kind of thing. But I’m leaving and I wanted to at least say goodbye in some shape or form. Take care of yourself and Nessa for me, will you?

    Thanks,
    Mythal


    Markus was fairly detached from the emotional scale, from what Mythal could gather. A long, lengthy letter probably wasn’t best suited for him. Short and to the point would be better. He put that letter aside and then sat there, staring at the last sheet of paper. The pen hovered just above the scrap, not quite touching but hovering just above. He knew this one would be the hardest and yet, even after the build up, he couldn’t just dive right in. He took a moment to breath once more, relaxing himself. Eventually, after several long minutes, he finally began to write.

    Serilda,

    I know this is going to look bad, especially after everything that happened last night. Please believe I didn’t mean to do this and if I had any other way, I would do that without hesitation. But my time has run out it seems and now I’m left with the daunting task of looking at my mortality in weight against the rest of the world’s. But despite all of that, I would give anything – anything in the world – to have one more night of just me and you together. I wanted to tell you everything once you woke up but I’m afraid I’ll be gone before that happens. But I don’t want you leave you wondering about all the missing gaps between my words, thoughts and feelings. And now that I have a better understanding of why my feelings have been the way they are, I find it’s much easier to just say them outright.

    I love you. I know that seems ridiculous coming from a man who once despised anyone even touching him but… it’s true. The more time we’ve spent together, the more you’ve earned my trust, my respect and my friendship, I found myself more and more drawn to you. That night at Oak Inn, I knew I couldn’t leave and walk out of your life, nor could I let you leave mine. There was something special between us, something I chalked up to companionship that I’d never known. In a way, that was true as well but it blossomed into that much more. I realized it the night I went to your parent’s house for Christmas, after you’d given me the chance to bond with Gren. I just… knew.

    And I was afraid of it. Not because of any kind of commitment issues but a real, deep fear of the feeling itself. I worried about opening myself up to that kind of connection, of letting you in where I’d never let any before. I worried about how dangerous my life was and what it could mean to you if I got you involved. I thought that I was too damaged to actually feel love and when I did, I still felt I wasn’t worthy of it – that it and I didn’t belong. As it turns out, that wasn’t something I had made a conscious choice about; it was a choice that had been made for me before I was even fully alive. Being here with you tonight, after everything, made me realize that I shouldn’t let my fears rule me. I have to face them full force and either rise to surpass them or at least give a last stand worthy of singing about.

    And that’s why I have to go. Some things are going to happen that have to be stopped. I’d tell you what they were but I know if I do, you’d come and try to find me. And if I’m being completely honest, I don’t see this as something I’m coming back from. If I do, then know that I’m coming back to you having finally buried my past for good. But if not… I’m doing this because if I don’t, you might get hurt. This world could suffer and that’s not a chance I can take. If I’m wrong, then I’ll deal with that no matter what happens. I’m sorry I had to leave this way but I don’t know how much time I have before things get bad. And after all the things that happened to you last night…

    I wished I could tell you how much I love you in person. Maybe I’ll get that chance. But if I don’t, know that I was ready to fight back all my fears and worries for a chance to be with you. I didn’t care how hard it got or how much it drove me insane – you are worth it. I’d’ve found my way to Hell just to punch Hugo in the face for how he treated you. Never doubt you’re a person that deserves love and care and tenderness that anyone in the world can provide. You were never the problem, I was. Please take care of yourself and be safe.

    Forever yours,
    Mythal


    Gods, how it hurt to write it out and not say his thoughts directly to her. He had to stop several times to collect himself, his emotions threatening to boil over. Once he finished the letter, he had to sit there for a few minutes, the reality of everything he had written settling into his bones. Once that was set, he quickly scribbled the names on the fronts and folded the letters. Three of them were tucked into his jacket and the other left in his hand, hanging loosely between his fingers as he walked into the living area. He set it down on the coffee table with her name facing her, hopefully giving her opportunity to see it as soon as she woke up. He then walked over to the couch and leaned down, wrapping his arm around her and holding her. He breathed in her scent, memorizing it so he couldn’t forget it and then kissed her gently on her scalp. Somehow the tears still managed to stay within, even now. He gave her hair one last stroke before he let her go, now ready as ever to go. He went over and picked Gren up, holding him tucked in one arm. He groaned a little in protest but then snuggled up against him to get more comfortable. He looked around once more and then turned to head for the door. If he didn’t leave now, he would think twice and then probably not leave at all. And that possibility was too unacceptable.

    So he went, locking the door behind him as he went. The sun still hadn’t risen much as he walked away from her cottage, his mind exhausted but determined. Eight hours, Archimedes had said…

    He didn’t have much time at all.


    Unknown LandsFairy Tail
    3327/12000
    Let me tell you, they are fear.


    _____________________________________________________________________________________

    Serilda Sinclair
    Serilda Sinclair
     
     

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    Lineage : Scion of the Void King
    Position : Goddess of Conviction
    Posts : 614
    Guild : Rune Knights (GM)
    Cosmic Coins : 75
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Experience : 3,559,197

    Character Sheet
    First Magic: Voidwalking
    Second Magic: Sword of Wrath
    Third Magic: Cruorthurgy

    Light in the Darkness Part 2 Empty Re: Light in the Darkness Part 2

    Post by Serilda Sinclair on February 7th 2019, 3:42 am




    "Character counts most when duty calls."




    If there was one thing Serilda had learned about drinking in excess, it was that the hangovers were not worth it.

    She had no idea how long she’d been asleep for, though it was certainly hours. Her stomach was what woke her, still throbbing angrily at her like it was trying to decide if it had more it wanted to reject or not. She had a splitting headache to boot, which wasn’t being helped by the light flooding in through the windows. Serilda groaned rolled over, sitting up to try and wake herself a bit. She saw the second glass of water on the table that Mythal had gotten for her the night before and reached for it. Her mouth felt disgusting, and while she didn’t have a lot of firsthand knowledge of getting drunk she did know that water was essential in coming down from the intoxication.

    The woman was still weary and unfocused enough, both from sleep and the hangover, that she did not see the scrap of paper with her name on it right away. There was still a fair bit of mess around the house from her emotional explosion the night before, so her eyes mostly just glossed over things that were out of place because everything was out of place. The only thing that was strange was that she didn’t see Mythal, but perhaps he’d moved to one of the bedrooms -- she wouldn’t have blamed him, since there wasn’t exactly enough room for the two of them to sleep together on the couch very easily.

    With a yawn, she stood and made her way to the bathroom, her footing much better than it had been previously but still a bit unsteady. Serilda couldn’t remember the last time she’d needed to pee so badly, and it felt like she was in there forever doing just that.

    When she was done, she moved back into the main area of the house and poured Xiuh a bowl of food. As the wolf happily scarfed the food, she made sure to give the animal some extra love, praise, and affectionate apologies for everything the night before. When sufficient attention had been granted, she moved on in search of Mythal. Her first stop was in the guest bedroom on the second floor, which would have been the easiest bed to get to. He wasn’t there, and neither were any of the blankets as she realized the ones he’d brought her were from this room. Logic followed that he must have gone to her room upstairs, then.

    Walking a flight of stairs wasn’t thrilling in her current state, but she did so. She had half a mind to just crawl into the bed with him when she got there and rest a bit more, but instead she frowned as she got to the doorway. Mythal also was not in this room. Where was he? It wasn’t exactly an expansive manor like her parents had. There were only a few rooms he could get to. Maybe he’d gone outside?

    A slight feeling of panic and unease was beginning to worm its way into her, but she kicked it back. Her memories of last night weren’t perfect, but she remembered the encounter for the most part. He’d made it quite clear that he wasn’t going anywhere, and it wasn’t really like him to just disappear at a time like this. She chalked up the feeling to the alcohol and trudged her way back downstairs and outside to the garden.

    He wasn’t there either, though he had been at some point. Or at least, Gren had. There was a pile of excrement in the grassy area of her lawn that was far too small to be Xiuhcoatl’s. At this point, the worry picked up a bit more. Maybe he’d gone to run an errand? She went back inside, her feet hustling a little faster than usual. Snatching up her iLac, she checked it for any messages. A few things were pending her attention, but nothing from Mythal. Perhaps he’d left a note somewhere?

    It took her a couple minutes to find the letter that she honestly should have seen as soon as she’d woken up, and when she did notice it a full fledged feeling of trepidation shook her to her core. If he had just gone to get some food or do something quick or simple, surely he would have just written a short note on a scrap of paper and left it out for her to see. This was clearly not a short note. It was a full letter, folded in half with her name written on top of it.

    Serilda picked it up slowly with shaking hands and sat down on the sofa. Against her better judgement, she opened the paper and started to read. The words she found waiting for her somehow both stunned her and sent her drifting right back down the path of an emotional frenzy. She knew before she’d even finished reading the first paragraph that something was very, very wrong. This was a goodbye letter.

    And in the letter, he confessed both that he loved her and that he had been afraid of that love, which was the reason he’d been pushing her away. He truly hadn’t held anything against her in regard to the appearance of his long lost surrogate father, and in fact it seemed the man’s return had nothing at all to do with the fact that Mythal had stopped seeking her out romantically -- it was just poor timing.

    By the time she finished the letter, it hadn’t fully hit her what was going on. Serilda felt numb all over again, like she was trapped in some sort of out of body experience. She had to read the letter again, and then a third time before the panic started to show on her face. There was only one reason he would ever do something like this: Faera. Sometime while Serilda had been sleeping off her stupid, senseless hangover, Faera had made a move and forced Mythal to make a choice. That was the only explanation. He never said it outright, even going so far to admit he was being vague because he knew she would follow him otherwise, and that was all she needed to understand.

    “No...” She whispered. How long ago had he written this? Maybe it wasn’t too late to find him. Serilda snatched her iLac back up and called him. It rang a couple times and went straight to his voicemail. She continued to try and call him, hanging up without leaving a message and dialing the number again immediately. “Please answer, Mythal...”

    He did not answer.

    When his phone went to voicemail for the fourth time, she screamed in anguish. Why? Why was all this happening? What could have possibly gone down in the few hours she’d been asleep that would have forced him to leave her like this? Even though her body should have been dried up by now, the Voidwalker once more found tears pouring down her face. She felt like she’d been gutted, like someone had set her heart in a vice and ripped it out of her chest. It was just like losing Hugo all over again, but somehow this was even worse.

    Hangover forgotten, Serilda rushed upstairs and quickly changed into the first outfit she saw before grabbing her sword and storming back down. “Xiuhcoatl.” The wolf didn’t need a command to know what her mistress wanted, already alert and wary due to the fact that the woman’s emotions had once against spiraled back down into a black cesspool that frightened the poor creature. If Mythal wasn’t going to answer his phone, then she was just going to have to track him down the hard way.

    Serilda didn’t bother heading for the train station. It would move too slowly for what she needed. Instead, she hefted the wolf into her arms and shot into the sky, making for Magnolia Town as quickly as she could. It was closer than his home, and surely someone at the Fairy Tail guild would have gotten some kind of word from him as well. Maybe they would have a clue she could follow.

    But when she got there, she could not track down either Nessa nor Markus -- the only two people she knew were remotely close to Mythal. If he had left word for anyone at the guild, it would have been for both of them. The members at the guild did their best to help the Sabertooth wizard, who was still hung over and behaving a bit erratically because of that and the emotional state she was in, but none were able to give her any kind of answer that would help her.

    Once she was certain she wouldn’t learn anything useful there, Serilda once more gathered Xiuhcoatl into her arms and flew with all haste to Oshibana where Mythal’s house was. It was a longer flight, but with any luck she would find him there before he got the chance to set out. Serilda practically stumbled onto the ground when she got there, depositing Xiuh as gently as she could manage while rushing to the door. She didn’t even bother trying to deal with the key, instead walking through it with the use of her magic and stopping briefly to flick the locks and open the door so the wolf could come in.

    “Mythal?!” she yelled into the house. The woman stormed through every room on both floors and in the basement, continuing to call his name loudly and desperate for any sign of him. She found none. Each room was empty, and looked as it always did. If he stopped here before he left, he hadn’t grabbed much. Serilda stumbled back toward the living room and dragged her iLac out again. Still no messages from him. She tried to call him again, and this time it went straight to his voicemail. Either he had turned off his phone, or had gone somewhere without enough service to support the device.

    Serilda dropped to her hands and knees. “MYTHAL!” she screamed desperately, very much at the point of hysterics. He loved her. All this time that’s what the problem had been, and if she hadn’t have been so stupid as to keep her own love to herself then maybe they could have talked about it and figured things out before it got this far. But she hadn’t. She’d kept her feelings to herself, content to let life take its course and to honor the fact that they had never really made any commitments to one another.

    And now it was too late. He was gone, off to confront Faera where he was probably going to die. Or worse, be forcefully subjugated to her devices. She continued to shriek her agony into the ground, curled up into a ball with her fingers digging mercilessly into her scalp. She should have told him how she felt. Now, she would never get the chance. Serilda felt so helpless. The worst part of it all was knowing that he was going into the fight by himself, without her there to have his back. Perhaps they both would have died, but that would be nothing compared to the daunting thought of living without him, of having to carry on knowing that she hadn’t been there when he needed her most.

    It was absolutely torture. After everything she had already been through the last twenty four hours, this was by far the worst of it. Her own husband had chalked her up to nothing more than a passtime, and now the only other man that she had ever loved -- the only one that had also truly and fully returned the sentiment -- was gone, and she had no idea where to find him. She needed help, but where could she go? Who would be able to find him better than her? If Mythal had gone after Faera that meant he probably wasn’t even in this realm anymore. He’d had to have gone back to the place he’d told her about, the place with the door that he’d sealed months ago. The last place he’d seen the cursed goddess.

    And Serilda had no idea how to get there. She wasn’t even sure that she could. It was an entirely different plane of existence, one that she had no connection to. The only way she could even hope to be lead to such a place was by a god, or even a…

    Reality slammed into her like a freight train at full speed, hard enough that it knocked the air out of her lungs and caused her to choke on her own sobs. Blue eyes flew wide. Her body began to shake violently. A demon. Ozorith’s words rang in her head more clearly than anything else that had ever haunted her, his promise that one day she would need a power that only he could give her, his assurance that when she was ready to receive it that she would come to him.

    “No… no no no…” she whispered, fright and horror settling on her as a heavy mantle. Absolutely not, Serilda told herself. There was no way that she was going to be driven to that. It was a trap, one that she would probably have to live with the rest of her life. Even Ruzatz had warned her to stay away from his comrade, emphasizing that even by demon standards the man was probably the worst scum one could ever get involved with. This was exactly what Ozorith wanted, for her to be driven to a point of desperation from which she had no other option but to take up his offer.

    Serilda pushed herself up a bit until she could sit back with a thud on her ass. “No, I won’t do that.” Fear had shocked her out of crying. She wiped the moisture from her face and nose, mind scrambling for another option, any option but that one. The woman refused to sell her soul to a demon, and Mythal would not want her to do that for his sake. She would find another way.

    The more she thought about it, the more she came up empty. The noblewoman quickly came to the realization that she had literally no other options. Her choices were to accept that Mythal had left to die, and either hope he somehow survived and came back to her… or seek out the only person that would have a chance of giving her what she needed to help the man she loved. Serilda thought long and hard about it, turning over everything in her mind as she compared the two options, trying to decide which would be the worse outcome to live with.

    In the end, the choice was simple. She couldn’t live without Mythal, couldn’t continue her life knowing that she hadn’t done everything she could and sought every available avenue to help him and protect him. Before he had shown up and made himself a part of her existence, Serilda had been numb… going through the motions of living without really feeling them, or caring about them. He had reminded her how to feel alive again, shown her what it meant to truly be cared for, even before she’d learned that a large chunk of her past had all been a falsehood. And as she sat there and slowly placed the final pieces of her thoughts in order, Serilda came to one very important realization.

    He would do the same for her. He wouldn’t be proud of it, and he’d know that she’d be beyond pissed, but if their roles were reversed Mythal would stop at absolutely nothing to either bring her back or assure that he died by her side. He would tell himself that he would do what needed to be done and deal with the consequences later, after the fact -- so long as the actions would ensure that there would be an after the fact where they could afford to be angry with one another over the choice.

    And that understanding made her path seem so much simpler.

    The woman took a deep breath, a sudden sense of calm and peace washing over her like the promise of an oncoming storm. “Ozorith,” she said, her voice firm and unwavering. Serilda hadn’t received any instructions from him on how to actually find him, but somehow she knew that simply speaking his name -- his real name -- with the intent of wanting to talk would summon him.

    Sure enough, no more than a beat later her Void sense yawned, molecules shifting place nearby to make space for the demon lord. She turned her hard, steady gaze to where he’d appeared sitting casually on Mythal’s couch like he owned the place. He took only a brief moment to study her with his dark eyes, to take in the fullness of her emotionally broken state, before a small and arrogant smirk tugged on his lips.

    “Right on schedule, Lady Serilda. Right on schedule…”

    Words: 2908/12,000


    _____________________________________________________________________________________

    Mythal Ragnos
    Mythal Ragnos

    Knight VIP Status- Regular VIP Status- VIP- Quality Badge Level 1- Quality Badge Level 2- Quality Badge Level 3- God Slayer- Character Application Approved!- Magic Application Approved!- Complete Your First Job!- Obtain A Lineage!- Join A Faction!- Player 
    Lineage : Heir to Darkness
    Position : Saint of Might
    Posts : 564
    Guild : Rune Knights
    Cosmic Coins : 50
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Age : 31
    Mentor : Nessa Cordelia Lux (Former)
    Experience : 3,545,154

    Character Sheet
    First Magic: Kami No Ken Sutairu O Taosu
    Second Magic: Kingdom Darkness Embodiment
    Third Magic: Incoming...

    Light in the Darkness Part 2 Empty Re: Light in the Darkness Part 2

    Post by Mythal Ragnos on February 8th 2019, 12:19 am

    I've been out there and seen the things she's made


    “This ain't one of your best ideas,” Mythal said simply, sighing gently as he walked along. The desert heat bore down on him, the oppressive warmth already wearing him down. Beads of sweat dotted his brow, wet rivulets drenching his flesh and pooling over his eyebrows. He reached up and brushed the back of his hand across, wiping away the compiled salt water. He shook it away, splattering the droplets onto the cracked, dried ground below. But already the sweat was beginning to rise to the surface of his flesh, ready to repeat the process. And so the constant cycle kept on while he traveled across this barren land. The trip had been far easier the last time… but perhaps that was because he had been ignorant of the danger that lay on his path.

    His journey across the desert was perhaps the longest part thus far. Everything before seemed to run together in a blur of motions, sounds and images. He had left Serilda's home rather quickly, walking to the train station with a strange calmness. Despite what awaited, there was no trepidation as he boarded the early morning train, finding himself the only rider. It seemed appropriate -- he was heading towards doom on a solo mission, having laid his goodbye before Serilda on her coffee table. Three more farewells lay in his pocket and the other was tucked into his arm. He'd just started to bond to the young Star Wolf pup, the young one starting to truly understand the commands he gave. It would be most heartbreaking to leave the hound behind but he couldn't bear bringing him; it was a death sentence and he wouldn't allow it. He sighed and looked out the window, losing himself in the passing world outside the glass.

    Faera had been a nail in his side since his birth. And now, after everything, she was ready to cast him aside and repeat the same ritual that had nearly made him hers. Some poor child, bred like he had been, was hours away from losing his soul and becoming the avatar for the violent Goddess. He would be the one that brought the destruction of the world… unless Mythal stopped it. But how the hell was he supposed to stop it? He was only God Slayer in name -- a false title given to those who had the magic capable of causing injury to deific and legendary beings but how many had actually been slain? It would be one thing if she were here, in this world, but he was required to go to her world? This… Kingdom Darkness dimension? Home turf advantage was a strong suit, especially when it came to battles. He was going in blind, ignorant and brash while she had the upper hand of her own design, her own fashioned realm. But he had to try -- he couldn't just let her win without some kind of revolt. In such situations, he imagined others would be asking for help from their friends and allies and perhaps he should have considered that too. But he felt, in his gut, that this was a fight he couldn’t possible win. And with that feeling, he couldn’t just ask anyone to throw their lives away.

    All the information that had been pressed upon him in such a short amount of time swam in his mind, like pictures in a lacrima projector. Friends that he’d made in the recent months since his joining of Fairy Tail and the image of his adoptive father, still smiling as he was wont to do on many days. Then of his newfound enemies; Archimedes, who claimed he was his birth father. He wanted to deny it still but even that he felt was true in his gut. There was no reason to lie about that so brazenly. Then there was the shadow of Faera, pressed against the backdrop of the doorway he had seen. The mastermind behind his plightful life, unwilling to even show her features to him beyond shadows and darkness. Then through all of that was Serilda’s face, pushing the rest away as his memories of her flourished in his mind. There was no doubt he was going to miss her the most but no matter what, he would find a way to stop this world from ending. He couldn’t let anything happen to her, not anymore.

    Before long, the train came to a stop in Magnolia. His eyes refocused, having been lost in his daydreams as he sat there. He left the station briefly, long enough to walk down the street to head to the guild hall. The sun was only just beginning to peek over the horizon, streams of light splattering across the buildings around him. Few were beginning to rouse from their rest, the early risers that started their days at dawn so they could be prepared to tend to those that rose later. He got a few nods and murmurs of hello from some of them as they prepared their papers and shops and what have you and he returns their gestures, if a bit sullenly. It was odd; knowing that there was a very real possibility that this could be the last day any of them saw the sun rise. The chance that Armageddon was only a few hours away sent ice water through his veins and made him walk a bit faster.

    The guild hall was open and lit, as many came and went on jobs at all hours of the day. He walked in, the sudden emergence of the light causing Gren to groan slightly and stretch in his arm. He smiled at the hound as he walked up to the desk, his presence getting the attention of the fairies working behind it. “This is for Sorano,” he told them as he reached into his pocket and withdrew the first letter with the guild master’s name on it. “And one for Markus and Nessa too,” he followed up by handing over the next two parchments, watching as the fairies looked at each document curiously. “Please give it to them when you see them. Thanks… for everythin’,” he finished the thought a bit ominously. The fairies seemed keen to inquire at his words but he was already turning and leaving, heading back the way he came. It would be the last time that Mythal would step foot inside the guild hall as he was now.

    He barely remembered the train ride as he took it back the way he had come, though stopping several stops earlier. Oshibana always looked bright and wondrous in the morning light or perhaps that was just the introspective side of him that was taking in everything around him, under the impression he never would again. By the time the train had come to a stop, Gren was beginning to wake up, his little eyes blinking open and staring up at the man holding him. He wiggled gently in the warm embrace of his master before finally wanting freedom, rolling out of Mythal’s nook and dropping onto the cushioned seat. There he shook himself and licked his fur quickly before he followed after the God Slayer as he departed the train.

    It was a short walk to his home, to which he was quick to open and enter. He took a deep inhale of the place, not only to set the smell of the rich home in his memory but to see if Susano was around. It seemed he wasn’t, as his scent was there but quite aged. After last night, he probably went to do more exploring to ease his mind – he was known to go off and wander for days on end, as he hadn’t seen the world in quite some time. He had forgotten to give the demi-god a letter of his own but he had a feeling that Serilda would be the one to bear the bad news to him on that regard. But that didn’t sit right with him so he went upstairs to his room and find another pen and paper and quickly jotted down a brief but meaningful farewell to the midget. It would be enough for him; he was leaving the home to him, so he’d have a place to stay after his long journeys. It seemed this place would become a haven for those that enjoyed wandering. That thought made him smile a little.

    He gathered up Curse and attached it to his back, the weapon locking itself in for the long trip. He also grabbed the keysword he had taken from the masked man after his original dive into the dark realm’s entryway. He felt no need to bring anything else with him so he headed back downstairs, where he found Gren sitting on the couch and eagerly wagging his tail. It was time to say goodbye.

    He knelt down before the hound and smiled at him. “This next part I have to do myself. I don’t know if I’ll be back but… Seri will find you and take care of you,” he said softly, reaching out and scratching the hound’s head gently.

    Gren’s tail stopped suddenly and his face lost his joyful luster. In fact, it seemed that the Star Wolf had picked up on what Mythal was trying to say. He whined and stepped forward, trying to climb his little paws on the God Slayer’s chest. As much as he wanted to hold the hound, he had to let go now before it got even more hurtful. He rose and moved towards the door, the hound eagerly following after him and wuffing softly. Getting through the door became a challenge; Gren did everything he could to try and wiggle through the opening and follow after Mythal, forcing the man to have to pick up the pup and slide him several times back into the house before he finally managed to get it shut. As he locked it, he could hear the hound’s paws eagerly scratching at the door, trying to tear through the wood and get to his master. Mythal had to fight back tears as he lay his hand on the door, his last silent goodbye to the hound he had grown to love as well.

    His walk to the train station was a bit slower, the reality of everything finally settling in. As the next train rolled into the station, he trudged on board and dropped into a seat, his eyes staring ahead almost in a trance. He seemed about ready to let himself just pass out there, exhaustion finally kicking in, when he heard a commotion down at the end of the train car. Curious, he leaned over to look down the alley of seats, seeing several people pointing out the window and tracking something apparently on the platform outside. Maybe it was some big romantic reunion that people were getting caught up in? His stomach dropped as fear that Serilda had woken up early and managed to track him down sent bile into the back of his throat. He rose from the seat and moved towards the door, now wanting to see just so he could confirm that wasn’t the case.

    As he reached the doorway, Gren came flying through, planting his paws on the man’s chest and knocking him to the ground. There he stood on his master’s chest, wuffing angrily and excitedly, both proud of his tracking and furious at Mythal for leaving him. All the God Slayer could do was stare up at the pup, who equally stared right back down at him. “Gren…” he said softly.

    The hound wuffed a few more times, ranting at him in a language he definitely didn’t understand. But he knew the tone – he was angry that he had been left in the house, abandoned by the man who was supposed to be his master when he needed help the most.

    Mythal shook his head. “Gren, if you come with me, you could die,” the God Slayer attempted to explain.

    The hound growled at him in resistance, daring him to try and put him back at the house. How had he gotten out in the first place? As the train lurched and began to move, Mythal’s window to put his Star Wolf back was beginning to close. But in all honesty, it was already closed and locked by the pup himself. Mythal sighed and shook his head. “No idea where you get this hardheadedness from,” he said to the pup, meeting the hound’s gaze. There wa a long moment of inner dialogue between the two it seemed before the God Slayer finally smiled softly. “Alright. At least with you there, I’ll feel pressured to stay alive,” he said.

    That was all Gren needed to flip back to his excited self, his tail immediately wagging again. He walked up the man’s chest and licked him right across the face, a show of trust and encouragement. Then he bounded off the man and ran over to the seat he had been occupying before, leaping up onto it and settling himself down.

    Mythal sat up on the train’s floor and looked over at the Star Wolf. He had remembered a moment ago that Star Wolves didn’t bond easily – in fact, creating a bond was a once in a lifetime thing.  If that bond was broken, the hound would eventually wither and die out as well. Curse those damn books he’d been given at Christmas… but bless them as well. He didn’t like this, bringing the hound into a possibly winless situation but it seemed he didn’t have much choice. The pup had given about as much lip about it as Serilda would have, had she been the one leaping through the door. If anything, keeping the wolf alive would drive him to fight smarter rather than make stupid mistakes.

    The ride to end of the rail was about an hour and a half and Mythal took the time to sleep, regaining his energy as best he could. Gren kept guard of him while he did, happily planted next to him and watching out the window at all the scenery passing back. Once the train pulled in, they began the long trek into the barren land; the ground cracked and dried up without moisture to feed it. And so that’s where they found themselves, having traveled near an hour or two into the abusive field of endless death. The sun was up now and the reflection of it bouncing off the ground made them feel like they were standing in an oven. Mythal’s comment about this being one of his worst ideas brought a small wuff from Gren, who was still walking right beside him. He would pause every few minutes to shake his entire body, rinsing his sweated fur across the ground. Then he would keep on going, somehow still in good spirits despite their predicament.

    Mythal’s gaze caught sight of something in the distance and his veins felt the chill run through them. The Ravines of the Lost were minutes away, judging by the sight of them, and already there was a coolness that tinged the air around them. The closer they got, the less oppressive the sun felt. By the time they were walking up to the gorge, it felt more like a fall day than anything else. The God Slayer looked down into the crevice like he had before, his eyes attempting to pierce the veil of fog that filled the earthly divide. Just as before, he could only see down the walkway to a certain point before it faded into the mist. He took a deep breath and looked over at Gren, his tail raised up to a near point and his fur practically standing on end. “Last chance, bud. You can wait here if you want,” he told the hound, giving him an out.

    The Star Wolf looked up at him and then back down into the cavern, a low growl rumbling out from his throat. Making his decision, he looked back up at Mythal and wuffed, getting into a stance that showed he was ready to go. Say what you will about the hound – no one could ever claim he wasn’t brave. Mythal bent down and rubbed his head once more before he took an encouraging breath for himself. Then they began their descent down onto the ramp. It was still as steep as it had been before but the foot notches in the stone, worn down from people using them, provided perfect platforms for balance. Gren followed after the man, bounding from one flat surface to the next so he didn’t slide down the entire ramp. The fog rose above their heads as they continued downward, the sky melting into the white clouds. Soon the world around them became impossible to see, save for the swirling clouds. But Mythal followed the same path he had gone before, remembering each step and turn he had made prior. Soon he found himself on the same platform from before. The flat, stone stage was just as unnerving as it had been before but this time, Mythal came with an experiment. He reached into his pouch and pulled out the keysword, flipping it around until he was wielding it much like his own weapon. As soon as it was properly in his hand, the end of it began to glow. The ground shook softly but not like it had before – there was no feeling of nausea or uncomfortableness in his senses. A ring of light formed around him and Gren, surrounding them on all sides and began to increase in strength.

    “Stay close to me, Gren,” Mythal told the hound, the order earning him a wuff of acknowledgement. He felt the Star Wolf press against his calf, following the God Slayer’s words to a point. As the light swallowed them up, Mythal was forced to cover his eyes from its brightness. He felt the wind rushing around them loudly, tearing at his clothes viciously. The way it was moving, it was almost like he was in a free fall but he could still feel the flat, solid surface beneath his feet. Then just like that, it came to an abrupt stop. The God Slayer slowly opened his eyes and found only darkness around him. Not in the fashion that made him feel blind but literal lack of color and light all around him. The key had opened the pathway to the realm right before the door. He was back where he had fought Key.

    He glanced down and his fears rose suddenly. Gren was gone – the little pup nowhere to be seen. “Gren?!” He called out to the darkness, whipping around to search for a sign of the Star Wolf. He saw nothing forever in each direction, not even a hint of the doorway that led to Faera’s realm.  He rushed away from where he had been, running in each direction in a wild hope that moving would present some kind of evidence. “Gren!!” He called out even louder. No… this couldn’t be. Had the hound been bounced back when he entered the realm? Cast out because he wasn’t meant to be here? He felt his stomach surge into his throat, his confidence suddenly waning.

    As he turned once more, he finally saw something. Where had once been nothing, now stood the elegant, pristine white door that led to Kingdom Darkness. And standing on the dark ground, only yards away from him, was a woman. She was dressed in a red and black kimono that covered her entire torso but gave way to a frilly black skirt on her lower half. Red, plated gauntlets covered her hands for protection against sword attacks. She had heeled boots that were covered in a fabric that ran all the way up to her thighs. A monstrous white mask covered her face and there was an odd looking box strapped to her side, looking like a multi-slotted sheath. Indeed, there were a few sword handles sticking out of slots as well. Her jet black hair ran down behind her and swung down near her ass, nearly as long as she was tall.

    So they’d found someone to replace Key. Mythal’s hand reached back and quickly pulled Curse out from its resting spot. He stuck the keysword bac k into his bag and tossed it aside for the moment as he brought his sword forward, pointing it directly at the woman. “Once chance to leave, lady. After that, I’m cuttin’ through you to get to that door.”

    “Mythal Ragnos,” the woman said behind the mask, her voice deepened somehow by the covering. “You’re a lot scrawnier than I imagined. But I suppose that doesn’t really matter. Dead meat is still dead meat,”

    Mythal scoffed. “Last masked freak that tried to kill me down here wound up on the wrong side of a beatin’. Do yourself a favor and walk away. I only have one beef to settle today and it ain’t with you,” He twisted the blade so the rifle barrel popped out, pointing directly at the woman. It was his last warning to her before he decided to take her out.

    He could hear her sigh from behind the mask before she slowly reached up to her mask, planting both her hands on it. Slowly she pulled it free from her head and down, revealing her face behind it. The God Slayer’s heart stopped as he looked upon the façade of Vriko, who looked so much like… him. Indeed, all of her features were akin to his, save for a feminine touch added to them. “Wh… what?” he gasped out.

    She scoffed. “What, Archimedes didn’t tell you? After you got away, they decided to try again – plant another seed, make another vessel. Only it turns out, your birth was a one-time ‘miracle’,” she said, putting up air quotes as she said it. “One of a kind Mythal was the only one capable of housing Faera because of some stupid spark. Luckily, that spark can be transferred – you just need to die,” her gaze was ice cold as she said the last part.

    “Why… why are you doin’ this?” He asked, finding his words again. “Faera wants to destroy the world. She’s going to remove you and use your body. That can’t be what you want!” He shouted at her, as his mind still tried to process the fact that this woman was quite clearly his sister.

    “I don’t give a damn about this world. Everyone in it can die for all I care. All I want is the chance to murder you with my own hands and then ring that Archangel’s and bitch’s necks together. After that… who even cares.”

    “Why? Why do you want to kill me so bad?!” Mythal demanded.

    “Because I have been compared to you for years!” She roared back at him. One of her swords shot out from the box, soaring through the air in front of her. She leapt forward after it, her hand reaching out and grabbing it by the handle to arm herself. As she came within Mythal’s proximity, she swung the weapon at him, the crimson blade meeting the steel of the God Slayer’s. The sound of the two metals scratching against one another screeched in the space between them as Vriko slammed her feet down on the ground, pushing against him. “Since I was born, all I’ve ever heard is how I’m nothing compared to you. How you were everything and turned your back on the future for Faera and her minions. I needed to be better; it was beaten into me every day and night. Mother would never stop reminding me that I was just the backup plan, I was nothing compared to what you were supposed to be. So to answer your question, brother,” she hissed at him, her own crimson eyes flaring up. “I want to kill you to prove I’m the better one.”

    Before Mythal could open his mouth further, she roared at him. “Flame God’s Inferno!” From her sword came a violent twister of magic, the intense flames rushing out at him with such force that he was sent flying backwards.  The flames licked at his hands, leaving burns and scorch marks over his fingers. But he slammed his feet into the ground as he came down and launched himself back at her, swinging his weapon forward.

    Her speed in storing one sword and taking out another was incredible – the fastest he had seen. As his weapon came around at her, she had another weapon up and ready for him. “Metallic God Slayer’s Reinforcement!” She shouted as she brought her weapon up, blocking his swing. The two swords rang out once more but this time the whine came back, almost like it was echoing back from a wall. The strength of the combined hits shot back into Mythal’s weapon, once more sending him flying backwards and now disarming him.

    He skidded across the ground, Curse sliding away from him as well. Vriko pulled out another sword and chucked it towards Mythal’s sword like a boomerang. “Glacier God’s Frost Tomb!” she called after the sword. It stabbed into the ground and immediately erupted into a pinnacle of ice, trapping Curse within its frosted walls. She turned and just barely had time to get her current sword up to block Mythal punching at her. But his strength far outweighed the temperament of the weapon and the sword shattered into pieces, sending the woman flying backwards.

    The God Slayer followed after her, chasing her down as she soared through the air. His magic flowed through his body at an alarming rate, boosting his natural speed to unnatural heights. He caught up to her midair and planted his fist into her stomach, slamming her into the pitch-black ground below them. She let out a cry of agonized pain, her eyes flying wide as her stomach turned over itself and her spine nearly bent in half from the impact. She grit her teeth as she saw Mythal winding up another punch and pressed the button on her weapon box, bringing another sword out from its depths. “Sky God’s Whirlwind!” She called out, twisting the weapon almost like she was turning a lock. Wind erupted from the sword and slammed into Mythal’s chest, lifting him up into the air violently. He was spun around wildly, whisked in a clockwise rotation.

    This gave Vriko time to get to her feet, a bit uneasily. She growled and pulled out another sword, flipping it into her other hand so she could duel wield the katanas. She leapt into the wind tunnel, the magic attuned to her and allowing her to fly upwards like a bird on the breeze. She rose above Mythal’s spinning body and swung the new weapon down upon him. “Earth God’s Rock Prison!” She cried. Black boulders materialized out of the air and slammed into Mythal’s limbs, dragging him down through the storm. When he hit the ground, he hit it hard and let out a cry of pain. The rock’s buried themselves in the dark ground, immobilizing him on the floor.

    This was it. Vriko hit the ground running as the tornado came to an end. Swords flew out of her weapon box and into her hands, only to then be stabbed into the ground. She raced around Mythal’s body, planting weapons one after the other in specific locations. Thirteen of them were put down, making a circle of embedded swords. As she came to a skidding halt, she thrust her hands out in the direction of Mythal’s form, her fingers splayed out. “Godly Union!” She called out. Each sword began to glow in its respective color, the magical energies within them building up. All at once, beams shot towards the center of the circle right over Mythal’s body, converging into a mass of colors and power. They reached their breaking point and exploded in a mighty tower of magical dispersal, the God Slayer’s agonized yell muted over the roar of the detonation.

    Soon the pillar of light faded, leaving a billowing trail of smoke in its wake. Vriko stood there, her hands still thrust out, as she stared into the pitch-black swirl of smog. As it began to lighten and disperse, she spotted a shadow lying on the ground. After a few moments, the smoke had fully cleared and she could fully see Mythal, lying flat and unmoving on the ground. His clothes were tattered, his body bruised, beaten and burned. His eyes and mouth were closed but his chest was rising gently, showing that he was alive – if only barely.

    Vriko took a shuddering breath as she pulled her final sword out from the case, the deep black blade seeming to glow against the dark backdrop. She walked slowly over to the man’s unconscious form, standing over him with the weapon in hand. She turned it over slowly, the point directly over his heart. “Finally…” she said softly, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Finally she had done it. Finally she would find her peace.

    But just as she pulled the weapon up and prepared to drop it into the man’s chest, a hand came out and caught it, stopping it in place. Her eyes, widening in anger, snapped to the sight of Archimedes standing there, smiling at her. “What?!” She demanded.

    “Ye know, lass… I decided to drop by and see how the battle was gonna end. If I’m bein’ honest, I expected him to kick yer arse in. But I guess all the news he’s gotten over the last couple of hours have sent his head a’spinnin’. Imagine my surprise that you managed to best him,” the Archangel said to her, continuing to smile. “You’ve earned this win.”

    “Then let me finish this!” She yelled at him, attempting to pull her sword free. “I can take his power and we can end it all.”

    “Yeah, about that… I’m thinkin’ the plans have changed,” Archimedes gloated.

    “What?!”

    “Ye beat him, sure… but you ain’t a flame against his roaring inferno. Only reason you got the upper hand was because his heart is weak right now. If I hadn’t softened him up for ye… well, you’d be the one lyin’ there,” he said, nodding to Mythal’s form. “Point is, methinks I misjudged his capability of bein’ a proper vessel for our Dark Mistress. I think with a little exposure to his other home, we might be able to get him back proper.”

    “No…” Vriko said softly, shaking her head. “No, that was not the plan! I’m supposed to be her vessel after I kill him!”

    “No, ye was always a backup. T’ings change and when the original plan looks to be active, we can dismiss our plan b,” the Archangel’s grin twisted maliciously before he suddenly pulled on the sword towards him. Vriko was taken off guard and fell towards him, only to be met with a knee to the jaw. She fell back, her hand flying to her mouth as the intense pain burned all across her face. “Yer a magicless whelp who shoulda never been born. For Faera’s sake, you need weapons made of magic to even keep pace and even t’en, you fall short.” Archimedes scoffed and tossed the sword beside her, the weapon clattering loudly. “Get outta here. You’ve been replaced. Take yer swords and go find a hole to hide in. Once Faera arrives in this world, she’ll remember what you’ve done for her and will grant you a swift death. That’s the least yer dear ol’ da can do for ya.”

    Vriko had no words, her eyes wide and brimming with rage, ache, surprise and pain. After everything, after all the sacrifices she had made – she was cast aside like a tool that had broken right at the end of a project. All she could do was watch as Archimedes picked Mythal up and hoisted him over his shoulder. With one last glance at his daughter, the Archangel snapped and the large door to Kingdom Darkness began to open, opening the path for him. Vriko watched as the two of them entered the realm, fading into the shadows beyond and as the doors slammed shut, her cry of pain faded into the darkness around her, her streaming tears melting into the nothingness of the floor.


    Unknown LandsFairy Tail
    8748/12000
    Let me tell you, they are fear.


    _____________________________________________________________________________________

    Serilda Sinclair
    Serilda Sinclair
     
     

    Developer/GFX Artist- Main Account- Gain An Artifact- Quality Badge Level 1- Quality Badge Level 2- Quality Badge Level 3- God Of Ishval- Ten Wizard Saint Member- Guild Master- Custom Slayer- God Slayer- Z-Rank- Y-Rank- X-Rank- H-Rank- S-Rank- A-Rank- Wanderer- So Extra- EXP Grinder- Job Creator- Working Together- Forever Solo- Christian Minecraft Server- Teaming Up!- Limited Edition- Hired Help- Unknown Powerhouse- Unknown Legend- Helper- Guild Creator- Achiever- Expert Achiever- Over Achiever- Buddy Buddy- Obligatory Beach Episode- Shipped- Dank Memer- Taskmaster- Richie Rich- Rich- Veteran Level 2- Veteran Level 1- Character Application Approved!- Character History!- Magic Application Approved!- Obtain A Secondary Magic!- Get A Pet!- Complete Your First Job!- Obtain A Lineage!- Join A Faction!- Tertiary Magic- Senior [500]- Novice [250]- 1st Place Event/Contest Winner- X-Mas Event Participant- Motor City Rush- Best GFX Artist Award- Player 
    Lineage : Scion of the Void King
    Position : Goddess of Conviction
    Posts : 614
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    Character Sheet
    First Magic: Voidwalking
    Second Magic: Sword of Wrath
    Third Magic: Cruorthurgy

    Light in the Darkness Part 2 Empty Re: Light in the Darkness Part 2

    Post by Serilda Sinclair on February 8th 2019, 7:23 am




    "Character counts most when duty calls."




    Ozorith looked the woman over casually from where he sat, taking in the fullness of her state with his eyes. “Not having the best day, I see.” He smirked a bit, both of them knowing that he was fully aware this was exactly the emotional point she’d have to be at to actually call upon him. Serilda said nothing, only glared at him defiantly and refusing to be baited by his mannerisms. “So. You learned my true identity and have taken it upon yourself to summon me. Here I am. How can I be of service?”

    “You really do get some kind of sick satisfaction out of this, don’t you?”

    “Naturally.” The demon grinned, but as usual it was not a friendly gesture. “It is not easy to shape a path for a woman such as yourself, so disciplined and unwavering in her convictions, to drive herself toward me. I think I am allowed a bit of satisfaction.”

    Serilda frowned at him, her heart practically pounding in her ears. “Shape a path?” she asked suspiciously. Her voice grew dark. “Did you have a hand in all this? In driving Mythal into this stupid suicide mission?”

    Ozorith chuckled, then held his hands up innocently as her glare deepened and she reached for her sword. “Relax, Serilda. I have had nothing to do with it. Faera’s business is her own, and she and I are hardly friends. I simply… made use of the opportunities that her plots afforded me. I have no interest in your lover.”

    She continued to glare at him for a beat or two but ultimately moved her hand away from the hilt of her weapon. Xiuhcoatl was standing next to Serilda, hunched on all fours with her hackles raised, teeth baring in a low, murderous growl. “I see your wolf still has not taken to me.”

    “She never will. She know you’re slime.”

    He raised a brow. “Now, now. Is that any way to talk to the man you want something from?” Ozorith asked her slowly, a dangerous amusement dancing through his eyes. “Don’t forget… You asked for me.”

    Gods, she hated this. He was so smug about this, knowing that she was backed into a corner. With every passing second she questioned her choice and built up her mental fortitude as if to simply throw the whole idea away and say forget it. But, she couldn’t. Mythal would die if she couldn’t find a way to get to him. He may die anyway, but either way she wasn’t going to let him face the fallen goddess alone. She had promised him that night back at the Oak Inn, seemingly ages ago now, that she would do everything she could to help him with this fight… and she meant it.

    Serilda set a soothing hand on the wolf. The gesture did little to actually make the creature feel better, but she did stop growling and made an effort to at least appear relaxed.  If I were interested in this… whatever it is your offering me,” she said, looking him in the eye and making it clear with her tone that she was not yet fully committed to this venture so much as at least exploring its possibility. “What would it entail?”

    He smiled, all too willing to answer that particularly question. “As you already know from my comrade, I am what’s known in hell as the Prime Sin of Wrath. Any demons that thrive off war, conflict, anger, resentment… they fall under my command and authority. Ruzatz explained to you already that I am drawn to mortals with such qualities as well, ones which you possess in abundance though they simmer deep within your core rather than flash on display around you. As a Prime Sin, I am able to establish a mortal as my… vassal, if you will.”

    She certainly wasn’t sure that she liked the sound of that. “So I’d have to what, then? Seek out wars and fight in your name? Draw people to your name?”

    “Hardly,” he said, waving a dismissive hand at her. “The requirements of the job aren’t quite so focused as that. Really, there is not much that you would have to change about your life as you currently live it. Wrath comes as easily to good men as to evil ones, and I don’t expect you to suddenly change your moral grounds just to start working for me. You and I both know that would never happen, no matter how badly you need my help.”

    “Then what’s the point?”

    “The point, dear Serilda, is that where the areas of my domain are allowed to foster, I grow with them. All Prime Sins are made stronger by the presence of their domains. Our vassals are selected with great care. We seek to find individuals that embody our desired traits naturally, whose paths will allow them the chance to flourish and display those traits as profoundly as possible. Take Agatha, for instance. Ruzatz chose her as his Hand of Lust because she was already a woman that exudes both sexual and emotional passion in a degree far above the rest of her human kin, to the point where she has won over both the bodies and hearts of men and women alike the world over -- and even at least one god that I know of, though Ramuh was far too possessive over her for that to work out in the long run.”

    Ozorith shrugged as Serilda frowned. “Wait, Ruzatz’s wife is his vassal?”

    With a snort, the Sin of Wrath told her, “Yes, a foolish notion, that. Marrying a mortal is absurd, but Lust always seems to be a special case. His aims are not always shared by the rest of us.” Ozorith rolled his eyes a bit, and it was not difficult for Serilda to understand that he held no great love for his comrade, nor respect for the other Sin’s human wife. At the very least it confirmed for her that the two Primes truly did not get along very well, as Ruzatz had once tried to tell her.

    There was a small pause as Serilda thought the man’s words over. “So I would be what.. Your… hand of Wrath?”

    “My Sword,” he corrected her slowly. “You would be my weapon, the mortal embodiment of my domain, to call upon and use my gifts as you see fit. It matters not what cause you use them for, so long as you ensure that those who would oppose what you stand for are made to see justice and to bend their knees before you.”

    “But why me?” she asked. It tore her apart to keep asking all these questions, knowing that each second that ticked by was one more second where Mythal was facing his demise. But, she could not allow herself to accept this agreement with Ozorith without knowing as many conceivable details as possible. “Why do you think I am the best choice for this job?”

    Ozorith shifted on the couch, making himself more comfortable. “A number of reasons, actually. As a noblewoman and an heiress with a successful business that caters and sells all over the continent, you already have strong ties to a number of influential people and thus have a name for yourself both in Fiore and other countries around you. You have not been with your guild for very long, but you have quickly risen through their ranks and made yourself known of your own accord, rather than just your family’s name. You lead with a firm hand, and are not afraid to get your hands dirty if it’s required to get the results you desire. Your future promises to be one of great impact in the mortal world, and would be quite beneficial to me.”

    Her mind was racing over all this information, turning over every rock in her mind. It seemed simple enough, but therein lay the problem. It seemed too good to be true, and that was suspicious enough with any offer let alone one coming from a demon. “So you just grant me your powers and let me on my merry way, to continue living my life as I please? You and I both know it’s not so simple as that. Where is the catch?”

    “So distrusting,” he chastised her, shaking his head with a smirk. Then, he went on. “There are certainly… drawbacks, I suppose? Though really that depends on your own opinion. Occasionally I may seek you for a specific job, of course, though this does not happen often. When it does, it’s rarely anything involving the designs of mortals as I don’t particularly care about their squabbles and wars, so long as they continue. If I were to call on you for something, it would be more in line with what you’re currently already planning on doing.”

    By that, he meant fighting gods. She did not like the sound of that, but it made sense. He would only call upon her when necessary, and he would not consider a battle with mortals necessary. If she took this position, Serilda knew that she would be willingly signing up to get more directly involved in the affairs between demons and gods; a notion that did made her stomach churn just thinking about it.

    He continued. “You would also have to be in regular contact with me, of course. Occasionally a couple of my generals if I am otherwise preoccupied. Additionally, for the tenure of your time as my Sword you would be immortal, in a sense. You may be killed in battle or by some force of intent, but will never take fatally ill nor die or suffer from old age. Most of my previous vassals were keen on that particular aspect of the job, though not all of them were fans of it.”

    Well, that was certainly a stunner. It wasn’t every day one was simply offered immortality. Serilda wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that part. Surely all mortals were at least a little curious about the concept, but even that kind of gift was bound to have its consequences. Plus, she definitely wasn’t thrilled about the idea that she’d have to interact with Ozorith on a regular basis. He was a creep through and through.

    “Alright, then,” she said slowly, her mind still processing his words but pressing on to the next bit of information to keep them from wasting too much time. “What about the powers themselves that would be bestowed upon me?”

    “It is difficult to sum the details, but simply put I would grant you aspects of my unholy magic -- the kind you would need to face a god such as Faera.”

    Well that seemed straightforward enough. Which again just made her all the more skeptical. “How do I know you’re not lying to me about all this?” she finally asked him. “How do I know that this isn’t some ploy to steal my soul or something?”

    The demon laughed outright at that, a short but somewhat boisterous display of entertainment. “Steal your soul? You humans and your superstitions. There are some demons that desire to own the souls of mortals, but those fall under the command of Greed and Gluttony. You may keep your soul; I have no use for it, just as I gain little from lying to you.”

    Serilda shook her head. “I don’t know. This all seems too.. convenient.”

    “Well in that case, allow me to clear up any misunderstandings,” Ozorith said. He leaned forward, bracing his arms upon his knees and fixing a dark gaze upon her that nearly froze her in place from fear and discomfort. “Being the vassal of a Sin, particularly mine, is no picnic. The parameters of the position are simple enough, but I am not a nice man. Unfortunately for you, we’ve little time to get into the details of that. Your cursed lover Mythal has already ventured beyond this realm, to a place where not even I can sense him. Make no mistake that he is within Faera’s domain already,” he spoke the last words slowly, letting them sink in and giving time for the panic in her to take root. “You do not have the luxury of time to think this through as much as you would like. So what is it going to be?”

    Serilda gulped and looked away in thought, her face scrunched with worry. Mythal was already out of reach, fighting for his life more than likely. She needed to make her choice now while there was still time to help him -- assuming he wasn’t dead already. Even if he was, Serilda knew she would need to go and confirm it for herself. She would not be able to just live in wonder without knowing if he had actually died, or if he had survived but just gotten stuck. It would torture her every day.

    “Fine.” Setting her jaw in determination, Serilda turned her gaze back to Ozorith’s and met it with an unwavering sense of confidence in her decision. “I accept your offer.”

    He smiled at her. “Then we have no time to waste, do we?” Standing to his feet, Ozorith approached her and held out his hand to help her to her feet. “Come, my Sword. I must see to it that you are properly outfitted, and I cannot do that here.”

    Hating herself for it, she begrudgingly took his hand and allowed him to pull her up from the floor. He did not let go of her after she was standing, but rather slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her a little closer to him until she was somewhat loosely tucked against his side. Serilda was surprised by how cold he felt to touch, even for someone like her that was quite resistant to low temperatures.

    A warmer body pressed itself against her leg in the form of Xiuh, who did not hesitate to stay defensively at her mistress’s side. “Is the wolf coming as well, then?” he asked, looking down at the creature. Serilda could feel Xiuh’s blistering dislike of the man, who was being far too familiar with the woman as far as the hound was concerned.

    “Where I go, she goes,” was the noblewoman’s simple answer.

    “Very well. Let’s be off, then.”

    All around her, Serilda could only watch as Mythal’s home seemed to melt away in her vision. It didn’t feel like they had travel so much as the world around them had shifted to bring them where Ozorith wished for them to go. A cold draft blew in as the temperature dropped significantly, and the ambience of bright light from the sun filtering through the windows was replaced by a dark glow more akin to moonlight.

    The Voidwalker found herself standing in what appeared to be some sort of cathedral crafted of ice and snow. Despite herself, she was absolutely awed by the beauty of it. Its architecture was flawless, with countless pointed arches in doorways and windows. Great columns of ice stretched up to a beamed ceiling that was raised so far above her head that she could barely make out the details of it. Massive windows paned with ice as clear as glass extended up the face of the walls, with the dark light from outside casting rays through them into the room. It was a spacious hall, and at the far end of it where they stood was a dias with an ornate throne that was also crafted from ice.

    He must have seen the confused expression on her face. “Not what you were expecting?” Ozorith asked her with a smirk.

    It took her a moment to find her voice. “I’ll admit I was expecting a bit more… well, fire.”

    The Sin of Wrath chuckled. “Most do, but fire is not as suited to my domain as ice is. Yet another reason why I was drawn to you, given your affinity toward the cold.” She didn’t exactly have anything to say to that, so instead she just kept looking around and taking the place in.

    “Now, then,” he said, “I do need your pet to stand aside for a moment so we can complete this agreement.”

    Serilda gestured for Xiuhcoatl to give her some space and the wolf did so, if reluctantly. The wolf was not at all thrilled to be in this place, which had set her almost entirely on edge. Ozorith paced around the woman for a moment, looking her over in more detail than Serilda was really comfortable with. As he came back around to her front, she glared at him defiantly.

    “First thing’s first.” He waved his hand at her, and in an instant the throbbing in her head and stomach stopped. Her hangover had completely disappeared, leaving her feeling refreshed and rejuvenated like she’d gotten a night’s peaceful rest. “I will not have you going into battle at anything less than your best. You represent me, now, and I expect you to carry yourself accordingly… though with your upbringing, I do not believe that shall be an issue. These clothes will not do, however. They are far to common for someone of your stature, and will provide you no protection in Kingdom Darkness.”

    “Kingdom Darkness..?”

    “Faera’s domain, where she and her Trumpets, and the rest of her accolades, reside. The place where your lover is likely fighting for his life as we speak.” He seemed a bit amused by the idea, which made her angry but she swallowed the emotion back. Ozorith was clearly trying to goad her and she would not be that easily manipulated.

    The icy ground beneath her feet began to shake a bit, and she felt something raising from the ice. A pedestal formed before them, and on it lay four items. The first was a set of armor which Ozorith picked up and offered for her to change into. Serilda accepted the garments but did not change into them right away. “Is there a room where I may change?” she asked, already figuring what the answer would be.

    “You’re already in it,” he informed her simply, the smirk on his face all too knowing like he was looking forward to seeing if she would fight him on the matter or not.

    The only evidence of her ire with him was a slight twitch in her jaw, but she did not hesitate longer than a second or two before she started stripping out of her clothes. There wasn’t much time to get to Mythal, and she wasn’t going to waste it arguing with Ozorith about something so stupid as modesty. She literally had more important problems. The demon didn’t take his eyes off of her once as she changed, content to stand back and observe with interest.

    By the time she was dressed, Serilda had already decided the attire wasn’t really to her liking. “This seems… impractical,” she informed him bluntly. The armor itself was comprised of several parts. First was the breastplate, which was sturdy enough but only fell down just past her ribcage, leaving her stomach exposed. A turquoise colored gem in the shape of a diamond sat nestled between her breasts, of which a fair amount of her cleavage was showing, and the leather was a blue shade, trimmed with gold. Similarly designed was the bottoms, which was not a pair of pants and greaves but a long skirt. The leather of it was fashioned like the top and rested low on her hips, elongating the view of her abdomen. It was fastened together in the front by a clasp in the same of a demonic looking skull, from which several silver colored chains with large, heavy links draped toward the floor, tipped with sharp spikes. Beneath the leather part of the skirt was a sheer white material that was ratted and frayed to give it an almost wispy, ethereal look. The material was as open in the front as the leather, meaning that when she walked her legs would be almost completely bare.

    The entire ensemble was tied together with a large cloth mantle that rested on her shoulders like a heavy cloak. It was a similar color blue as the leather of the armor, but trimmed in a soft white fur that complimented her hair. The pauldron on her right shoulder bore another skull crafted from silver, but this one was much larger than the one on her hips. It took up the entirety of her shoulder and ran down the length of her arm to the elbow, fashioned to look like a dragon’s skull with great ram like horns that wrapped down toward its snout. Cloth and leather bracers were fixed around her wrists, along with a matching pair of boots on her feet.

    “It seems that way, but I assure you it will serve you well. It is imbued with magic that is specifically designed to protect against not just the magic of gods and angels, but specifically Faera.” When Serilda gave him a suspicious look, he smirked and added. “The fallen goddess and I have… a history. One that had brought us to battle many times in the past. It behooves me to keep items on hand that can withstand her influence.”

    A fair enough answer, or at least the best one she was going to get at this time. “Very well. What are those?” Serilda nodded to the other three items left on the icy pedestal. One was a fist sized sphere that was perfectly smooth like glass and glowed with a pulsating light, as though there was magic swirling within it. Another was a jagged piece of what appeared to be black titanium ore. The final item was a hunk of black ice covered in frost and emitting a faint glow.

    It was this item that Ozorith picked up first. It was a frail looking thing, riddled with cracks and crevasses like it had been shattered and glued back together. It was also horrifyingly similar in shape to that of a heart, and about the same size. As it turned out, there was a reason for that. Ozorith handled it with care, not because it was fragile but because it held a great deal of power in it that even Serilda could sense.

    “This,” he told her, “Is what is left of the archangel Israel, once the Spear of my deific counterpart Zalona. He was charged eons ago with the protection of a kingdom deep in the Silent Glaciers, a kingdom that thrived for many generations across hundreds of years. But over time he became bitter as the people whom he cared for forgot that he existed and began to take his guardianship for granted. Eventually, his heart froze over and he fell, as did the kingdom itself.”

    As he spoke of the angel’s heart, Ozorith lifted the lacrima in his hand. It was covered in frost that he used a thumb to smear away. Inside, similarly to the other sphere, Serilda could see magic like a fog shifting within before more frost built up and obscured her vision once more. “It is now a lacrima, one that I have imbued with my own magic… and will now bestow upon you.”

    This was the power he had offered her. The power that would be able to sustain itself against holy foes such as Faera, though Serilda could hardly deign to consider such a foul creature holy. Ozorith placed the lacrima in her palm, and as soon as it came into contact with her skin she shrieked in agony and shock. Her entire arm had gone painfully numb as thought she’d been stricken with frostbite. The Voidwalker bit back the pain and forced herself to endure it though her body was shaking.

    What had she gotten herself into? What had she agreed to? The lacrima in her hands felt wrong. Even she could sense the taint in it. A feeling of dread washed over her. Was it too late to back out of this? Could she turn it down now, before this unholy power was granted to her in full? Her mind drifted back to Mythal, and all she could envision was him struggling for his life in a realm of darkness, alone with no one there to fight or die by his side.

    No. She refused to back down. Serilda had already signed her deal with this devil, and she would see it through. “What do I do with this?” she asked him, having never worked with a lacrima before.

    “You must fuse it with your body.”

    Fuse it? Serilda had no idea how to do that. She looked at the item with a mixture of trepidation and puzzlement, a look that her unholy patron did not miss. Ozorith shifted himself until he was standing behind her. “Here. I’ll help you.”

    He slipped his hand around her waist again, his flesh coming into contact with hers, and pulled her back until she was leaned up against his front. Serilda was still in such pain from merely holding the item that she couldn’t even fight him or protest the intimate manner in which he handled her. That, and her mind was setting into a very real and active state of panic. This moment right here was the embodiment of her deepest fears, being subjugated to the will of a supernatural being that could end her existence with a look, handling a power that would change her life irrevocably and force her to accept responsibilities that terrified her. She trembled visibly, already fighting back tears from fright alone.

    “Relax, Serilda,” he told her, turning his face so he could speak directly into her ear in a dark, hushed tone. His free hand reached out and cupped hers as it held the lacrima, pulling the limb closer to her body. The other hand which had been around her waist rose further up, his fingers trailing her side up past her breast and over her shoulder where he slipped it beneath the cloak to run the digits across her skin on her shoulder and neck. “We’ll make this as gentle as possible… though no matter what, I do guarantee that this will hurt.”

    She could tell he was smiling as he said it, but Serilda was too paralyzed with fear to do anything but let it happen. Her eyes widened in shock as the hand exploring her shoulder suddenly came up to put a firm hold over her mouth. She gasped, granted a second or two by him to prepare herself before he pushed her hand -- and the lacrima -- against her bare stomach. It stung her just as hard there as it had on her hand, but then the sensation became worse.

    The harder he pressed it against her flesh, the more agony coursed through her body. Every nerve she had felt like it was on fire as the item slowly seeped and melted into her stomach. She screamed in anguish into his hand and the tears that had built up in her eyes poured out in earnest. Her knees buckled, unable to support her weight as her mind focused completely on trying to overcome the strain being put on her body. The only reason she didn’t fall to the floor was because Ozorith had a death grip on her, holding the woman firmly against him as she squirmed and struggled to endure the torture.

    The agony was mind numbing. She was barely even aware of anything else, even Ozorith as he ran the tip of his nose along the edge of her ear, reveling in her pain like it was making him drunk. The demon clutched her tighter, forcing the lacrima the rest of the way into her abdomen at a rate she wasn’t prepared for, eliciting another screech from her. “Good girl,” he crooned in a low voice. “You’re almost done.”

    Her mind exploded as the power fused with her veins. Images and knowledge that she’d never known before raced through her mind in the blink of an eye like she’d watched an entire lengthy film in less than a second. The names of spells, as well as how to cast and utilize them, formed in her thoughts. She felt cold to the bone, like a great wind had chilled her to her core, and she was seeing stars like flakes of snow drifting across her vision. Enlightenment struck her with horrifying awareness as she realized exactly the type of magic that he had just bestowed upon her: god slaying magic, just like Mythal used but with a different element.

    Once the merge was finally complete, Serilda was nothing more than a sobbing, quivering mess in his arms. Ozorith let out a sound that was almost a cross between a chuckle and a growl, pulling her up against him a beat longer before he simply let go and let her drop unceremoniously to the floor. The newly created god slayer clutched at her stomach, weeping and shaking as the pain began to ebb.

    As it did, the demon lord walked away from her and back over to the pedestal. “Pick yourself up, girl,” he told her with a cruel, compassionless smirk. “Neither you nor your boyfriend have the time to wallow in self pity.”

    Unfortunately, he was right and Serilda knew it. As agonizing as it had been -- and it had been a thousand times more painful than anything she had ever experienced either physically or emotionally, recent events included -- she needed to get going as quickly as possible. Using every shred of discipline and self control she had, Serilda choked off her tears and forced herself to stop crying. She stood to her feet, shaky but determined, and wiped her face with trembling fingers.

    Another wave of his hand dried up her face, though it was still red and splotchy, and even fixed her hair so it no longer appeared mussed from not having been brushed in almost a day. “Much better,” he said, looking over the woman. The trauma of what she had just experience was evident in her eyes, but she otherwise looked the part of a well put together woman of high degree and station.

    “Now, for your last two gifts.” Ozorith picked up the metal ore and the glowing sphere, bringing them both over to her. He held out the orb first, placing it in her shaking palm. “This is a very special item,”[/color] he explained to her slowly, as though aware that she may still be too shaken up to properly process everything around her. “It is a condensed, and highly concentrated bauble of my own powers. If you need a boost, simply crush it and it will unleash one of my deadliest storms -- and I think you’ve spent enough time around other slayers to understand what to do with it from there, as well as the price you may pay for consuming so much magic.”

    She certainly understood. Serilda had seen with her own eyes as Mythal had devoured Markus’s magic, or at least what the effects of it had been. He’d taken on a form known as Slayer Force, which boosted his power to insane levels but at the cost of burning up equally insane amounts of his magic power. The same would be true for her if she used this item, she knew. The slayer tucked the orb away in a pouch on her armor, only nodding her understanding to him.

    Lastly, he placed the ore in her hands. Though it greatly resembled black titanium, once she could feel it Serilda knew it was not any metal found on Earthland. It was cold to the touch but hard as steel, harder in fact. Her Void magic practically spelled out its molecular make up to her, advising her that this was one of the most durable metals she’d probably ever handle. It felt strange, as well. It had a dark taint to it like almost everything else did in this realm. She also sensed… something else. Something she couldn’t ascertain in her current state.

    “This is your weapon,” Ozorith informed her, almost a bit proudly. “In its raw form, of course. Concentrate on it and will it to the shape you desire. He stepped back and gave her some room.

    Serilda blinked at him for a moment, her mind and emotions starting to numb from the overload of experiences she’s just been subjected to. Taking a breath, she closed her eyes and focused on the ore, picturing her desire in her mind. The metal shifted as if alive, condensing and thinning itself out as it stretched from her hand until it had taken the shape of a new scimitar as black as a starless sky. She understood as it formed that it was the antithesis of her other weapon: an unholy blade to battle a fallen goddess and her ilk. It also formed with it a sheath that would veil its dark properties just as her other sword’s scabbard veiled its holy aura.

    The Sin of Wrath smiled upon her, satisfied with his work. “I do believe you are ready now.”

    “Thank you,” she mumbled numbly, holding the item loosely in her hands.

    “It was my absolute pleasure,” Ozorith told her with a tone slick as oil. “Now then.” He stepped up to her one last time, slipping his fingers beneath her chin and gently turning her face up to him. For once he actually had a serious expression on his face, one that caught even Serilda off guard and brought her out of mental anguish enough to feel a little more alert and alive.

    “Remember what you are fighting for,” the demon lord advised her quietly. “You are my unholy paladin, my Sword of Wrath… and wrath, rightly or wrongly, fights for a cause. Mythal, the man you love so much that you have forsaken all of your convictions to protect him, will die if you do not get to him in time. Do you understand?”

    It was… odd to hear him saying such things. Serilda knew it was not coming from a place of caring -- at the end of the day, Ozorith couldn’t be bothered about whether Mythal lived or died. However, he did care about this woman utilizing her new skills and title to its fullest potential and bringing him glory, so to that end it seemed he could afford the time to tell her the words that she truly needed to hear.

    Her hands tightened around the weapon, and the shaking of her body stopped. A sense of calm washed over her as it had when she’d called Ozorith before all this, at a time that now seemed hours ago though it couldn’t have been more than an hour. Serilda nodded, her chin dipping against his hand in determination. “I understand. I will not fail.”

    Ozorith smiled again. “That’s what I like to hear.”

    As he released her face, she asked, “How do I get to Kingdom Darkness?”

    “The only way to get to Kingdom Darkness if you are not a being from the realm is by the guidance of one that is connected to it. I do not have that connection, thus I do not have the ability to send you there. However...” he said slowly, cutting her off before she could protest the notion that she’d just gone through all of this for no reason. “I know someone who can take you there, as do you. I will deliver you to him. If he expresses worry about helping you, as I suspect he might, assure him as my Sword that I will befall no ire on him or his for doing as you ask of him.”

    Serilda strapped the new sword to her hip, and then went over to the pile of things she’d removed and picked up her other sword, strapping it in place beside the other. Gathering up the rest of her items, as it seemed rude to just leave them here on the floor, the woman called Xiuhcoatl to her side. The wolf hurried over at once, eager to leave this place. “I am ready,” the woman said.

    “Excellent. Teach them what it means to be at the receiving end of my power… Oh, and do tell Faera and her puppets that I say hello, will you?”

    As before, the scene around her melted away and she found herself standing back in the mortal realm, though not where she had been previously. Serilda was somehow unsurprised to find that she had been deposited outside the grounds for the Lusty Titans guildhall. “Ruzatz…” she whispered, voicing aloud her understanding.

    A whimper drew her attention to her feet, where Xiuh sat in a full fret. “Oh, baby girl I am so sorry…” she whispered, dropping to her knees and wrapping the wolf in a tight hug. “It was not what I wanted, and not something you should have experienced. I promise we’ll work it out later, but right now I need you be patient with me. Please. If we don’t hurry, Mythal will die… can you do that for me, girl?”

    The hound licked her face gently, seeming to understand. “Thank you.” Serilda held her tightly one more time and then made her way into the guild. What was strange was what she was sensing. Or rather, not sensing. Every time she’d come to Hosenka and passed near the hall, the noblewoman had all but needed to shut off her Void sense to keep from being privy to the goings on inside the rather lascivious guild. As of right now she could sense people inside, but there was no one participating in any deviant acts.

    In fact, when she got inside it seemed like people were expecting her. Everyone looked up from their various places where they chatted and socialized, their eyes lingering like she was some person of note or dignity that needed to behold. Had they known she was coming?

    Serilda frowned for only a moment before a familiar voice carried out from the far side of the room. “Serilda..!” Agatha beckoned her over to where she and Ruzatz were sitting, the gypsy getting right out of her seat and rushing down to meet her. “Lady Serilda, I am so sorry,” the younger woman said, tears brimming in her eyes. The woman was still stuck on the encounter with Hugo’s spirit, it seemed, tormented with the knowledge of what Serilda had been put through. “Are you okay?”

    “I’m… I’ve been better,” the noblewoman answered honestly. In a display of compassion that she didn’t typically show toward individuals that made her nervous, Serilda placed her hands on the woman’s shoulders. “You are not at fault for what happened, Agatha. You warned me what I might face, and I had an idea of what would happen going into it. Please don’t blame yourself. Okay?”

    Agatha nodded and threw her arms around the woman in a hug. Serilda accepted it, mostly because she sort of needed one as well after all this. Her eyes found their way to Ruzatz’s, a man whom she looked upon with a great deal of mixed emotions. There was still a wariness about her, but it had been heavily tempered for the moment by trauma, and determination.

    Stepping away from the gypsy, Serilda turned to face the Sin of Lust. “Thank you,” she told him softly. “Thank you for finding him and sending him to me. If you hadn’t… honestly, I don’t know where I would be right now.” Despite the misgivings she still had, particularly after this last encounter with Ozorith, Serilda would not fail to ensure that Ruzatz understood that she truly was grateful and appreciated his efforts and his thoughtfulness.

    “I know I don’t have the right after the way I treated you when we met last, but… I need to ask you a favor. I need you to send me to Kingdom Darkness.”

    Words: 9941/12,000


    _____________________________________________________________________________________

    Mythal Ragnos
    Mythal Ragnos

    Knight VIP Status- Regular VIP Status- VIP- Quality Badge Level 1- Quality Badge Level 2- Quality Badge Level 3- God Slayer- Character Application Approved!- Magic Application Approved!- Complete Your First Job!- Obtain A Lineage!- Join A Faction!- Player 
    Lineage : Heir to Darkness
    Position : Saint of Might
    Posts : 564
    Guild : Rune Knights
    Cosmic Coins : 50
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Age : 31
    Mentor : Nessa Cordelia Lux (Former)
    Experience : 3,545,154

    Character Sheet
    First Magic: Kami No Ken Sutairu O Taosu
    Second Magic: Kingdom Darkness Embodiment
    Third Magic: Incoming...

    Light in the Darkness Part 2 Empty Re: Light in the Darkness Part 2

    Post by Mythal Ragnos on February 9th 2019, 1:09 am

    I've been out there and seen the things she's made


    The door to Kingdom Darkness was closed and all Vriko could do was stare at the massive doors, her eyes red and veined from crying. Her jaw had a lump the size of a ball, right where her father had kneed her in the chin.  She’d fallen to her knees as soon as the portal had closed itself, her anguish escaping her in the form of running tears and cries and curses. But now her tears had run dry and all that was left was the fiery coal of vengeful thirst within her belly. She wiped her face with hand, her fingers closing around the moisture and pressing it against her flesh. From there she stood up and grabbed the sword closest to her, twisting it around and thrusting it back into the case. She walked to the others, still buried in the dark floor in their circular shape. Each one was plucked from its spot and put back in its proper slot, the woman rearming herself after her full frontal assault.

    As she picked up the last sword, her eyes caught sight of something in her peripheral. She turned her gaze to find Serathar standing there, now nearly in the spot she had been to confront Mythal. Her own blood froze as she looked at the angel, for he looked more serious than he had ever before. He normally had a rather neutral face that hid many of his emotions behind a veil of disinterest. But he was frowning now, a sense of dreadful seriousness tugging down on his façade. Before she could open her mouth to speak, the man reached down to his hips, where his two guns were holstered. He flipped off the straps keeping them in and began to withdraw them, even as Vriko stumbled back a step or two…




    Something was amiss. Ruzatz knew it for sure now, after everything he had experienced recently. First his run in with Serilda Sinclair here in Hosenka, a few weeks back. He hadn't thought too deeply of her significance until she had mentioned Arthas, one of Ozorith's many character names. Not only had she encountered him but he had been following her. In a better situation, he may have found a way to keep her safe from the Prime Sin of Wrath but alas the man was incorrigible with his pranks and games. Mess with his fun and one might find themselves on the bad end of his rage. All he could do was hope that Serilda’s time as his target of enjoyment was short lived.

    That didn't seem like it was going to be the case. The revelation that the Voidwalker's love was a Fallen God Slayer -- one tied directly to Faera -- proved that there was a plot afoot. The Prime Sin hated plots; they weren't clean, they caused pain and endangered more lives than needed. Yet what could he do? Serilda had insisted he leave her be. He had gone out of his way and element to seek out Mythal and send him to her in her time of need. He'd done all he could and now he was out of moves. So he went back to his guild, distracted himself with the perverse members of his harem as well as his wife.

    But it wasn't even a full day later when the wind changed again. He could feel it, like the natural colors of the world growing more vibrant in his gaze. In times like this, he knew it was best to act however his gut told him too. For once, he asked the guild to remain proper, to keep their passionate actions delayed for a time. They cleaned the main hall so that it was presentable and then waited. He wasn't sure how long he waited along with his wife and a few of the guild members. Time seemed to move painfully slow right up until he felt her appear outside the guild hall. Her emotions were worse than before -- fear and panic had wrapped themselves around her woeful love. But there was something else there he couldn't quite sense from this distance. He waited until she came to the front door and opened it, his eyes already there to meet her gaze.

    No. This couldn't be. He stared, his eyes widening, as Agatha ran to the woman and chatted with her before embracing her. Ruzatz rose from his seat slowly, his vision never breaking as the Voidwalker finally met his look. His distress was evident on his face, even as she thanked him for his kindness. “Whatever kindness I managed seems to have gone awry,” he said sadly. “You're his Sword.” It was obvious now; that is why Ozorith was so interested in her. She did have a fiery rage, such a strong emotion that he had been on the receiving end of. The other Prime Sin must have seen the potential in her and started vetting her. But why had she agreed? She seemed so indignant against him and he had a feeling that the seduction of power was not a vice that lived brightly within her.

    Yet his answer came a moment later as she put forth her favor she needed from him. His eyes widened and he sighed as understanding washed over him. “Mythal… shit.” Kingdom Darkness was Faera's realm, her personal charge that had been given her when time had nearly begun. It was a vile world, made of the inky darkness that had come from the birth of existence. He would know -- it was, after all, the mirror and opposite of his own element. His golden gaze lifted to meet her's, his eyes sad and weighty. “Of course he sent you to me. Faera uses darkness blacker than any known in existence and I use a darkness that is tinged with light. She is my opposite, from element to standards. Oz would know this too and I'm sure he saw that as a benefit for his case,” he explained, shaking his head mournfully. “I'm sorry Serilda. I can send you there but I won't. If Mythal Ragnos had been taken there, he is already dead. And I won't damn another to death on a suicide mission.”




    Mythal was very not dead, despite Vriko's best attempts. But he was not, by any means, safe from danger either. Reality began to return to him slowly, the rushing sound of consciousness ringing in his ears. As he awoke, he groaned softly, the soreness that filled his body the first feeling he felt. His eyes fluttered softly as his mind started back up. A single eye opened, surprised to find the world was… shadowed. Everything was darkened around him but not fully pitch. There were… vein-looking roots that rose out of the walls around him, giving off an ominous blue light. It gave him just enough illumination to make out the creases in the brick, the worn and cracked surfaces all around him. He groaned again as he attempted to move, wanting to get up and look around. But as his torso leaned forward, he found his arms unwilling to budge. The more he started to feel, the quicker he realized his arms were lifted up on either side of him. Bound? He found his strength and gave his right arm a tug, the limb refusing to move. There was no rattle of chains but he was certainly hindered.

    A heavy metal clunk caught his attention, his eye snapping to the source. A flash of brief light and then more, the golden color filling the room and temporarily blinding him. He flinched, turning his head away from the illumination. But he heard the chuckle, one that was now all too familiar to his ears.

    “Well good mornin’ laddy. The lass did such a number on ye we thought you were a breath away from death. Yet here ye live, though a little worse for wear.” Archimedes’ grating treble caused Mythal to groan softly in annoyance.

    “I must be dead because this is definitely my hell,” he said, his voice dry and cracked.

    “Not yet lad. In fact, you surprised us all by survivin’ Vriko’s onslaught. She’d been trainin’ for years to kill ye and even with all of that, you’re still breathin’.” The Archangel was thoroughly amused, chuckling away as he walked forward and stopped before the chained up man.

    Mythal’s head snapped up. “Vriko? That’s—“

    “Yer sister, aye. May have lied to ya about the brother but ye do have a sister,” he explained before giggling a bit. “Or well… had.”

    “What?”

    “Oh yeah, she failed big time in takin’ care of ye. Frankly I’m glad of it – right annoyin’ pest she was. Poor without a magical drop in her blood so we have to go through all this effort to get her special swords to kill you and she can’t even manage that. I stopped her from finishin’ the deed because frankly, I still think ye are our best chance for a vessel. My underling should have put her out of her misery by now so… sorry ye never got a chance to meet her proper,” Archimedes said, shrugging.

    “You abused her…” Mythal said softly. “She said you all abused her, turned her into a weapon just to kill me. Now you’ve killed her for what, annoyin’ you? She was your goddamned daughter!” He snapped at the man.

    “She was more me mistake than daughter. Shoulda thrown her in the river the minute we discovered her lack of magic but… our Dark Mistress had hope. Unfortunately Vriko didn’t reward that hope. But it doesn’t matter anyways; our original vessel has been returned to us and has even come home! Oh, how rude I am. I didn’t even give you a proper tour!” As he finished his words, Archimedes held his hand up and snapped, the sound echoing despite the small space.

    Mythal’s entire body was spun around suddenly as the walls gave way, plucked apart by some magical force. As the bricks spread away from one another, Mythal was treated to the sight of Kingdom Darkness – or at least this portion of it. There was no ground from what he could see, merely an empty void of black that fell as far as the eye could see. Odd, black and purple growths sprung out from the shadows, blooming into bulbous tops that pulsed with dark purple and blue lights through similar veins. Long, winding paths of gray-toned dirt slid through the air all around and headed off into different directions. The floor beneath him broke off from the rest of the ground and turned as it floated into the sky, giving him an ample view of the tall tower that was apparently his temporary home. It seemed more like natural rocky growths than anything else; curling stone ‘fingers’ rose up from the base towards the sky, with pillars of differing sizes jettisoning out from the ground and the base itself. As his eyes tracked the tower upwards, he was gifted with the sight to what was the night sky here. A plain black veil with purple gems embedded within the cosmos, each one twinkling like the stars in his own world.

    “Admittedly we’re not very deep into the world and nowhere near Sanctuary Castle. But quite the sight, isn’t she?” Archimedes asked as he floated in the air beside him.

    “Yeah, very depressin’…” Mythal said, glancing at his hanging arms. Now that he was in a more lit area, he could see the shadowy chains that were strapped to his wrists and arms.

    “Soon our Dark Mistress will inhabit your body and all of this… will bleed over into your former world,” Archimedes explained, reaching down and squeezing the God Slayer’s cheeks between his fingers. “But not after we’ve broken ye down a little. Worn your spirit down to naught.” With the scene shown, Archimedes brought them back to the prison cell, attaching them back in with nary a crack to show they had left.

    “She may be able to take me but you ain’t gonna break me, Archimedes,” Mythal said when his mouth was released, the Archangel starting to walk towards the door.

    Archimedes stopped,  his back still to the God Slayer. When he turned back around, he was wearing a smug and malicious grin. “Don’t be so sure about that…” He brought his hand forward and waved it over the spot right in front of him.

    The air shimmered and out of the air came… Gren. The hound looked like hell had ran him over and then some. There were dark circles under his little eyes but he managed to open them and spotted Mythal. His tail pitifully wagged behind him as he spotted his master and his pawns started to move, trying to get him to his feet. But he lacked the strength, instead doing a sort of crawl across the bricks.

    “Gren!” Mythal cried out, thrusting his body forward at the hound but still chained up. “What the hell did you do to him?!”

    “Nothin’… yet. You see, Kingdom Darkness is not for mortal souls. Only ones allowed here are Faera’s legion and the dead. You who has a bit of the Kingdom’s taint in ye won’t have issue but this wee pup here…” Archimedes clicked his tongue. “He ain’t long for this world.”

    The Star Wolf didn’t seem to care that the world around him was draining him of his life. He continued to crawl towards Mythal, only stopped when the Archangel reached down and tugged him back by his tail, which brought a whine from the pup.

    Mythal’s entire body was shaking with rage. “Send him home. Get him out of here! It’s me you want, just send him back!” He demanded, yelling despite how raw his throat felt.

    “No can do, laddy. The door is shut. But weren’t you just sayin’ how we wouldn’t break ye?” Archimedes’ smile twisted again as his stuff appeared in his hand. He brought the end of it down and pressed it against the wolf’s back leg, not quite puncturing the flesh but enough to pin him there. “How ‘bout this… I’m gonna cut off all this pup’s legs right in front of ye. Sure, the air will pro’lly kill him before then but I imagine you’ll still enjoy me cuttin’ up his carcass. Sound like a plan?”

    “NO! Archimedes, don’t do this!” Mythal pleaded with the Archangel, pulling against his constraints. His eyes met the hound’s, who somehow still managed to look happy he had found the God Slayer. How long had he been wandering about, trying to find his master? How long had they been separated and now he was relieved to see him, willing to die in this world for the opportunity to see him one last time?

    “Let’s start with this one,” the Archangel practically whispered, just as he started to push down on the pup’s leg.

    The yell that came from Mythal was unlike anything that had ever come from him before. His muscles expanded as he pushed against his chains, the shadows cutting into his wrists and causing him to bleed. The Archangel was laughing along with the scream, more than entertained at the sight of the man suffering and railing against his imprisonment. But that laughter stopped as the unmistakable sound of the chains cracking and then finally snapping broke through the room, with the God Slayer pushing himself to his feet. His right arm was back and forward before Archimedes’ could truly understand it, the fist smashing into his stomach with such force the room shook. There was only a brief moment of absolute silence and pause before the Archangel was shot through the ceiling, the strength of the attack sending him flying almost out of a cannon. The entire building rumbled as the Archangel broke through layer after layer of the prison.

    But Mythal didn’t care about that. He was falling to his knees, pulling Gren up into his arms and holding him close. “Gren, please…” he whispered, two even rivers of tears flowing from the corners of his eyes. He had to do something – he couldn’t let his hound die like this. But what could he do? Archimedes’ had said nothing can live in this world, save for those that belonged to Faera or…

    His magic. He gasped as he lifted his right arm away, looking at his hand. Could such a thing work? He’d never heard of any animal that possessed any kind of Slayer magic beyond dragons. But if they could use it, could others? Would he just hasten the pup’s death by trying? He tried to think of other options, tried to weigh what choices he could possible make and found himself with nothing. He had no idea how to get out of this realm, no idea where the door was… if he tried to make a break for it, Gren could die before he even makes it out.

    His magic flowed over his hand, answering him with the only option he had. He focused it into his hand, compiling it into an orb in his palm. It contained the smallest amount of his magical power he could use to create such an orb and even then he was afraid it was too much. He brought his hand around to the dog’s face, his entire arm shaking in fear. “I’m sorry…” he said softly to the hound before he gently opened his mouth and forced the orb inside, closing his jaws after.

    He held the hound to his chest as the magic began to take its effect. Gren’s small body began to jerk, his muscles spasming all at once. He whined and squealed and attempted to wiggle out of Mythal’s grip. But he held him fast, rocking him gently and praying with all of his heart this worked. Then the dog went completely limp in his arms, the breath slowly exhaling from his lips. The God Slayer grit his teeth, his mind completely going blank as the tears fell about his cheeks.

    Then an inhale. A deep, strong inhale. Mythal’s eyes opened as wide as plates as he looked down and watched strength return to the hound. Gren’s little eyes opened and he started to wiggle again, this time to get his bearings. Mythal set him down on the ground, the Star Wolf taking a few steps and stretching. He gave a shake of his head and then turned back, his face returning to its normal, pleasant state. He bounded over to Mythal and pressed his paws against his chest, leaning up to lick on his face. Mythal could have died, he was so happy in that moment, holding the pup’s head to his as he let out a long and shaky breath. “You scared the hell out of me, bud,” he said to him.

    The hound wuffed and licked him across the eyes. The God Slayer chuckled and pat him on the sides. As he lifted his head, it suddenly dawned on him that they weren’t out of danger yet. “This ain’t gonna be a walk in the park, Gren. I have no idea how to get out of here and everythin’ in this place is our enemy. But maybe, if we don’t do anythin’ too stupid, we can get out of here.” The hound wuffed again, with a bit more strength this time. Mythal smiled briefly before he turned his head. He could hear footsteps coming from the door – several pairs of feet heading towards them. Seems like Archimedes’ hasty exit had finally been noticed. “Alright. You ready to kick some ass?”

    The hound jumped into a more aggressive stance, his low growl already rumbling out of his throat as he faced the door. The God Slayer rose to his feet, his magical core already beginning to spark back to life. Lost within Kingdom Darkness, trapped in a prison with who knows how many guards and minions, with no idea what direction to go in. It would be one of the hardest fights of his life. But he was ready for it and as the first few angelic soldiers came pouring through the door, he didn’t even wait a beat to charge into them.


    Unknown LandsFairy Tail
    12136/12000
    Let me tell you, they are fear.


    _____________________________________________________________________________________

    Serilda Sinclair
    Serilda Sinclair
     
     

    Developer/GFX Artist- Main Account- Gain An Artifact- Quality Badge Level 1- Quality Badge Level 2- Quality Badge Level 3- God Of Ishval- Ten Wizard Saint Member- Guild Master- Custom Slayer- God Slayer- Z-Rank- Y-Rank- X-Rank- H-Rank- S-Rank- A-Rank- Wanderer- So Extra- EXP Grinder- Job Creator- Working Together- Forever Solo- Christian Minecraft Server- Teaming Up!- Limited Edition- Hired Help- Unknown Powerhouse- Unknown Legend- Helper- Guild Creator- Achiever- Expert Achiever- Over Achiever- Buddy Buddy- Obligatory Beach Episode- Shipped- Dank Memer- Taskmaster- Richie Rich- Rich- Veteran Level 2- Veteran Level 1- Character Application Approved!- Character History!- Magic Application Approved!- Obtain A Secondary Magic!- Get A Pet!- Complete Your First Job!- Obtain A Lineage!- Join A Faction!- Tertiary Magic- Senior [500]- Novice [250]- 1st Place Event/Contest Winner- X-Mas Event Participant- Motor City Rush- Best GFX Artist Award- Player 
    Lineage : Scion of the Void King
    Position : Goddess of Conviction
    Posts : 614
    Guild : Rune Knights (GM)
    Cosmic Coins : 75
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Experience : 3,559,197

    Character Sheet
    First Magic: Voidwalking
    Second Magic: Sword of Wrath
    Third Magic: Cruorthurgy

    Light in the Darkness Part 2 Empty Re: Light in the Darkness Part 2

    Post by Serilda Sinclair on February 9th 2019, 8:38 am




    "Character counts most when duty calls."




    She could feel his gaze on her the moment she stepped into the guildhall, though she couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with him until after she’d soothed Agatha. The Prime Sin of Lust stood from his chair and walked toward her in slow shock. He didn’t have to say anything for her to understand that he knew exactly what had taken place almost moments before. Ruzatz was not pleased to say the least. There was a very real worry etched on his face, and while he accepted her thanks it was done so in a way that cut straight to the fact that things were still definitely not okay.

    “I am,” Serilda told him quietly. Though she held his gaze firmly, there was absolutely no pride in her expression. Her eyes were haunted, her cheeks flushed from the sheer amount of crying she’d done in the past twenty-four hours. Agatha gasped slightly, her delicate hands rising to her face to try and cover the horrified look that befell her. “Believe me, if I thought I had any other choice, I would have taken that road instead.”

    The mere mention of Kingdom Darkness was enough for Ruzatz to at least put the general pieces of the puzzle together. The incubus lord explained a bit about the realm, comparing it to his own and why Ozorith would have sent her to him. But he followed up the explanations with a refusal to send her, stating that if Mythal was in Kingdom Darkness he was already long dead. The very words ripped apart her already aching heart, sending such a surge of emotion through her that it actually overwhelmed Agatha’s empathic senses for a moment.

    “Do not write him off as a lost cause,” the Voidwalker told him in a low, firm tone though the nature of it was very much broken and pleading. Tears were forming in her eyes again though she stubbornly kept them back. “Ruzatz… please. Can’t you see that I have to try? Mythal is so strong, and I have every faith in him that he can hold his own for a time, but he needs me there to help him see it through. Besides, Faera still needs him as a vessel. I do not believe that she would want him dead.”

    Serilda had no idea of all the new developments that had come up, of course. She didn’t know of Archimedes’ words to Mythal, nor of the existence of Vriko. All she had to go off of what everything Mythal had told her until this point, which was that Faera was still trying to trap him, not kill him.

    Her voice grew quieter as she continued. “If you force me to stay here, the only things that will come from it is that I will have to go on for the rest of my life not knowing what happened to him, feeling like I failed to be there for him when he needed me most, and that I will have put myself in the service of that horrible, horrible man for nothing.”

    The noblewoman was very much trying to keep everything together, and it was a struggle. Serilda took a moment to keep herself steady, to quell the raging cacophony of emotions inside of her and bestill them to a simmer. “If you deny me the chance to at least try, you will not prevent me from dying. All you will do is ascribe me to a state of living death. Please believe me when I say that I would rather die in that dark realm by his side than have to live the rest of my now immortal life not knowing if I could have saved him, if I could have brought him back to me instead of letting him die alone or surrounded by people that don’t give a shit about him.”

    Agatha moved over to stand next to Ruzatz sensing his own internal conflict over the situation. She said nothing, only slipped her arm beneath his and leaned against him in comfort, her free hand resting on his shoulder. The gypsy was at a total loss for words, which was rare for her. She understood where Ruzatz was coming from, but so too did she understand Serilda’s plight.

    “With all due respect, Ruzatz… my fate, whether it be to live or to die, is not your choice to make. And if there is still time left to help him, as I desperately hope there is, it is quickly running out the longer I stay here and beg you to help me.”

    Words: 10,742/12,000


    _____________________________________________________________________________________

    Mythal Ragnos
    Mythal Ragnos

    Knight VIP Status- Regular VIP Status- VIP- Quality Badge Level 1- Quality Badge Level 2- Quality Badge Level 3- God Slayer- Character Application Approved!- Magic Application Approved!- Complete Your First Job!- Obtain A Lineage!- Join A Faction!- Player 
    Lineage : Heir to Darkness
    Position : Saint of Might
    Posts : 564
    Guild : Rune Knights
    Cosmic Coins : 50
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Age : 31
    Mentor : Nessa Cordelia Lux (Former)
    Experience : 3,545,154

    Character Sheet
    First Magic: Kami No Ken Sutairu O Taosu
    Second Magic: Kingdom Darkness Embodiment
    Third Magic: Incoming...

    Light in the Darkness Part 2 Empty Re: Light in the Darkness Part 2

    Post by Mythal Ragnos on February 9th 2019, 4:01 pm

    I've been out there and seen the things she's made


    Ruzatz sighed softly as Serilda confirmed what he already knew, perhaps needing to hear the words herself. Reality had a funny way of tricking the mind right up until the person acknowledged it. She told them that had she any other option, she could have taken it rather than indebted herself to the Prime Sin of Wrath. But that was part of the game, wasn’t it? Ozorith knew exactly whose path to follow that would lead them to a dead end, with no other direction to turn. He’d always excelled at it and he showed, even now, that his mastery hadn’t waned in the least. He felt for her truly but his empathy wouldn’t allow him to make a hasty decision and break through the veil so he could send her to Kingdom Darkness. If Mythal had been taken to the other reality, it was ten to one he was dead already.

    She insisted against his words, telling him not to write off the God Slayer yet. While the Prime Sin of Lust wished he could simply flip a switch and do that, it wasn’t that easy. Faera had always been one to get what she wanted and if Mythal was something she felt was hers, he would become hers. She continued to persist, stating that she deserved the chance to at least make an attempt to save him, claiming Mythal was strong enough to hold the line, even for a little while. It still didn’t seem that simple and his opinion was proven true as she stated that Mythal wasn’t wanted dead after all – in fact, he was meant to be her vessel.

    His eyes widened and his heart went to his heart. “No… not again,” he said breathlessly, a true wash of panic rushing over his features. Mythal was that child? Why hadn’t he sensed it? Why hadn’t he put it together? If that was true… “If he’s there, it’s over. She’ll already be preparing the ritual, she’ll take his body and…” Wait, his inner self told him. Kingdom Darkness was vast and the Goddess’ castle was nowhere near the door. Even with their speed and strength, no angel of hers could reach her kingdom in less than a day’s travel at best. If he was there, then…

    She continued to revolt against his judgement, explaining that she couldn’t live her life knowing that she would have been there and at least took a chance. If he refused, she’d be enslaved to the Sword position for as long as Ozorith wanted her to hold it, living her life in miserable existence one day at a time. She even went as far as to say that stopping her wasn’t saving her from death but damning her to a worse one. She would rather dive into the darkness and perish there than to lose the one, small possibility that Mythal was alive and capable of being saved. And as she rounded her thoughts about, stating that it wasn’t his right or choice to make about her death, he sighed and shook his head. But there was a small, sad smile on his lips as he brought his hand over and rested it on Agatha’s. “What is it with beautiful, stubborn women coming into my life and making my life complicated?” he said in a gentle tease, his tone far more genuine and complimentary than the words were. “I’m not going to send you in blind. If I’m going to do this – and I’m going to catch such hell for doing so – then I need proof that Mythal is even alive. If he is… then I’ll rip open a whole just large enough to let you in.” There was no argument in his tone – that was his decree and his requirements to break his word.

    “Luckily, my love is an expert at scrying. We probably won’t get much of a clear picture but… well, to be frank, if she scry him and finds nothing at all, we’ll know the sadder truth. Any sound or brief flash of a picture will be enough to convince me.” He squeezed Agatha’s hand. “I trust you have something he’s touched or held for a long period of time? Piece of jewelry, article of clothing… even something as seemingly useless as a key?”


    Unknown LandsFairy Tail
    12853/12000
    Let me tell you, they are fear.


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    Serilda Sinclair
    Serilda Sinclair
     
     

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    Lineage : Scion of the Void King
    Position : Goddess of Conviction
    Posts : 614
    Guild : Rune Knights (GM)
    Cosmic Coins : 75
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Experience : 3,559,197

    Character Sheet
    First Magic: Voidwalking
    Second Magic: Sword of Wrath
    Third Magic: Cruorthurgy

    Light in the Darkness Part 2 Empty Re: Light in the Darkness Part 2

    Post by Serilda Sinclair on February 10th 2019, 2:38 am




    "Character counts most when duty calls."




    The knowledge that Mythal was Faera’s vessel certainly seemed to trigger something frightful in Ruzatz. The Prime Sin’s eyes went wide in horror, and for a moment he seemed to be all the more insistent about not sending her, but then he paused his words. Something seemed to have occurred to him, a thought that he didn’t share but had put a seed of doubt in his mind that maybe, just maybe, Mythal was still alive.

    Ruzatz listened to the rest of her words and pleas in silence, letting her get out everything she needed to say. By the end of it, he could only smile if sadly. “You’re just lucky, I guess,” Agatha told him with an equally soft expression, squeezing his hand affectionately. It was definitely odd to Serilda to see such genuine love between the human woman and her demon husband. The observance was something that would surely come into play later after all this was done, but for now she was far too focused on the matter at hand to do more than make a mental note of it in her mind.

    He told her that he would agree to send her if, and only if, they could prove that Mythal was actually still alive. He suggested to have Agatha scry on Mythal, a trick she could supposedly do from this realm through similar means as what she’d done to bring Hugo’s spirit out to talk. “I’ll go get my crystal,” the redhead said before rushing through a backdoor into the recesses of the guild hall. In the meantime, Ruzatz ran down the list of things that might work.

    For a moment Serilda stood there helplessly in thought. She didn’t have anything on her that belonged to Mythal, and she knew if she had to take the time to go back to his house then it might well and truly be too late before she got the chance to prove he was alive. But then the Titan’s guildmaster suggested an item that sparked hope in her. Serilda dug through the pack on her hip until she withdrew a small keychain with two house keys on it. “I do have a key,” she said, holding one of them out. “I don’t know how long he had it before he gave it to me, but it’s for his house. It’s the only thing I’d have on me…”

    It was clear by her expression that she was worried it wouldn’t be enough, but they wouldn’t find out until they tried. As they waited for Agatha to come back, Serilda let her eyes wander around the hall for a moment. Most of the members were trying not to stare at the odd scene that was taking place, and at the strange woman in the stranger garb that had gathered the full attention of their guildmaster and his wife.

    While they had a moment of moderate privacy, Serilda turned her gaze back to Ruzatz. “Listen… I know what I’m asking of you is no small favor. I know it is going to paint a target on your back if Faera ever finds out you sent me there. If she ever starts sending anyone to harass you, please tell me so I can help you deal with it. I do not want you to take the fall for this.” She meant it, too. If Faera decided to raise a hand toward Ruzatz, Agatha, or anyone associated with them as a way to punish them for helping Serilda, the noblewoman would not hesitate to step up and remind the fallen goddess who her true enemy was. Serilda was the Sword of Wrath, now, and hurting these people would definitely draw her ire and vengeance in a way that Faera would learn to regret.

    “I also wanted to tell you… if we survive this, if I manage to come back alive… You have my word as both the heiress of the Sinclair duchy and as a wizard of Sabertooth that I will make a more conscious effort to set aside my… misgivings and mistrust that I displayed for your kind, at least as far as you’re concerned. I can’t say I will start to be more trusting of demons in general, especially after working with Ozorith… but your actions since I’ve met you have not gone unnoticed, and I will try to let go of my preconceptions with you.”

    Surely he would understand, knowing Ozorith as well as he did, that her fears of demons had likely only risen in the last few hours. But at the very least, she could and would make an exception to do better by him because of his kindness, and if she didn’t make it back from at this she at least wanted him to know that she understood he really was different from his peers.

    Shortly after that, Agatha hurried back into the room with a crystal ball. Setting it on the nearest table, she accepted the key that Serilda gave her. “One moment. I need to attune to it.” Thankfully, ever since she’d married Ruzatz and became both his queen and his Hand, her powers had grown exponentially. A process that one took her a full day now took her only a few seconds. “I have it.” Agatha handed the key back and then held her hands over the glass sphere. A dark cloud formed inside of it, swirling like a storm as magic churned within.

    It took a brief moment, but suddenly the sounds of battle drifted to their ears. They heard Mythal’s voice as he very much fought for his life. A wash of relief so great flooded over her that she was nearly become by tears again, but the sensation was almost entirely overrun by the passion and ire that filled her at knowing he was struggling, that Faera’s men were trying to hurt him. How dare they.

    Serilda turned to Ruzatz. “Drop me as close to them as you can,” she told him, her tone dark and cold as she plotted the ruination of the being in the Kingdom. The noblewoman was completely giving way to her rage in that moment, letting it fuel her for the fight.

    “Wait, just a moment longer.” Agatha’s voice was rushed, knowing that time was of the essence. “Neither of you will survive long in Kingdom Darkness without some assistance. The air there will be toxic to you both. You need some protection.”

    “I will be fine. I can breathe even in a vaccuum, and Ozorith told me this armor is specifically designed to combat Faera and her magic. But Xiuhcoatl… If you can do anything for her, I would be grateful.”

    After gesturing to the wolf that it was okay, Agatha bent down and cast a spell on the creature, chanting words in an odd language as she had the day before back at her shop. When she was done, the wolf stood on all fours and shook her thick coat vigorously like she’d just been injected with a great deal of energy. “Thank you,” Serilda said. “Both of you. For everything. And if… if we don’t make it back… please tell my family what happened.” Both Agatha and Ruzatz were more than aware of who her family was and where to find them, so she knew she didn’t have to say anything else.

    Taking a deep breath, she refocused and found her center, transforming into the visage of a born and bred noblewoman that was about to show zero mercy in laying down the law. “I’m ready.”


    It was subtle at first, barely noticeable through the chaos and frenzy of the battle taking place in the dark kingdom, but soon the strength of the sensation picked up. The ground was shaking, just a bit at first, but before even a couple seconds had passed the phenomenon had turned into a full fledged earthquake that rattled anything and everything fixed to the ground within a couple hundred meter radius. Anyone standing on the ground would quickly find themselves struggling to fight as they needed to focus on keeping their feet planted.

    Then, out of nowhere, everything began to explode. Buildings and earth formations cracked and crumbled violently. Armor and weapons in the hands of their bearers split and disintegrate into dust. All around him, Mythal would find practically the entire army of Faera’s present men clutching to their bodies and crying out in pain as they became afflicted with the sensation like their very molecules were being pulled apart in their bodies. In no more than a few passing seconds, anyone that Mythal had not already managed to wipe out suddenly became more focused on their own well beings than on attacking him.

    A light appeared above them. So bright was it that it cast its rays over the entire chamber, promising to blind all those whose eyes had adjusted to the darkness. More screams of anguish rose through the chamber as angels and other minions of Kingdom Darkness desperately tried to cover their gazes from the violent shine that lit up a place that was never supposed to ever see light. The source of that light dropped down from the ceiling with all the speed and mannerisms of a comet from space, smacking into the ground with such force that it shook the world even more and created an appropriately sized crater where it landed.

    As his eyes began to adjust, Mythal would find a most shocking surprise before him. The source of the light might take him a moment to recognize, but there was ultimately no mistaking the wolf that stood before him. Her usually pitch black coat shimmered and radiated with a vivid yellow-white light like a sun. She stood at the ready with her tail toward him, growling menacingly at every enemy that was far too near to Mythal and Gren for her liking.

    Standing next to her, no more than a few paces away from Mythal, was Serilda. She was wearing a strange armor that he’d never seen on her before, and there was an extra sword at her hip. Her expression was every bit the look of a noblewoman that was somehow able to achieve both dignity and supreme judgement on all those around her whom she looked upon. Her jaw was set with determination the likes of which he’d have never seen before, her blue eyes on fire with a simmering, murderous intent.

    Silence filled the chamber as all around stared in shock and confusion at the woman that had no right to be in this shadowed kingdom. And yet, there she was. For the moment, her newly acquired god slaying powers were being suppressed. Serilda turned slowly and looked about the room, casting her enraged glare on everyone unfortunate enough to catch her eye. The only person she didn’t look at was Mythal, as she was too busy focusing her wrath on those that had been attacking him.

    When she spoke, her calm voice rang out dangerously throughout the room, reaching its edges not through shouting and screaming but with the practice strength of warrior that knew how to make herself heard over the roar of war. “I will give you one opportunity, and only one, to surrender yourselves peacefully,” Serilda told them, a venom in her tone that almost dared them to test her or to try and call her bluff.

    “Fail to do so, and I swear that I will tear this entire realm asunder until your pitiful, miserable excuse for a goddess learns her place, crushed beneath my heel.”

    Words: 12,741/12,000


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      Current date/time is December 13th 2019, 7:32 am