Pre-Canon Adventures Collection

Monster

It was a simple nightmare. It wasn't something that he never had before. But this nightmare... It was all too real for Ingressus. He just didn't know it, yet.

Author's note: I am in P A I N

super quick oneshot - idea from Cloudless_Sky (aka ArtimisWarrior)

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Fire.

Everywhere.

Destruction.

Everywhere.

...bodies...

Everywhere...

He knew they were supposed to be glowing. They were supposed to be adorned in yellow. In green. In blue. Purple. Red... He knew these bodies were supposed to light the unity.

So why didn't they?

He cut them down, one by one, his flaming sword in hand. He didn't care who they were. He didn't care that they might have families waiting for them at home. He didn't care that, once upon a time, they could've been his allies, his friends, people to fight for, not against.

Everywhere he walked, he left flames in his wake, burning innocents and destroying the land he once called home. No-one survived his blade for they were cut down like trees and skewered like meat before they even had the chance to raise their hands in defense.

He was blind. His rage governed his actions, progressing unchecked. Where had this rage come from? What fuelled his hate-filled vengeance that ate at his insides, ravenously devouring him like prey?

He didn't know.

He didn't care.

He found comfort surrounded by death. He found satisfaction in the ruthless killing of others.

He hated it.

He hated how the world would look upon his markings and see a monster before they saw him, but he was numb to the pain, by now. He had destroyed everything and, if given the chance, he would do it again.

And again.

And again.

Without hesitation.

Even on that day that he spied the cursed blue markings of the very man that thrust his sword through the body of his father, and thus, through himself. It wasn't him, but he sported the same markings, and it didn't matter that he never wielded the sword. He was guilty by association and that was all that mattered to him.

"For killing the last of my family, it is only fair that I kill the last of his!"

Galleous Sendaris was to be cut down just as Thalleous was, and atop the peaceful mountainous islands, the Deathsinger would commit these actions in symbolism to show that he was the monster that the world had made him out to be. He raised Voltar to the air, the diamond blade catching the light and very essence of the burning world and a storm of destruction rained down on what should have been his home, drenched in the blood of all those who opposed him and there was nothing the universe could conjure that would stop him.

They could tie him down and break him, tear him limb from limb, beat him until his markings flickered, balancing on the line between life and death and leave him hanging there in agony, but his dark chuckle would haunt the dreams of children for centuries to come. His markings would be the light in the dark of nightmares of thousands of people and his smile...