'What are you?'
The thought was not asked.
It simply was.
'The air does not recognise you... the world does not highlight you...'
Even the light bent wrong around his body.
'The smell of submission ran wild within that cocoon... and yet here you stand.'
The boy's frame barely shifted.
No pulse.
No tremor.
'Is it because of her?'
That girl?
That princess?
'No.'
'It seems you move with the lack of thought.'
There was no hesitation.
But it wasn't... mechanical.
Each step lands where the world resists him.
Yet he moves still.
'Does a lack of consciousness, also arrive with whatever has taken hold of you?'
The ground rejects his weight.
The air refuses to part.
And still... he exists.
'What is it that drives you?'
There should be nothing.
---------------
Chaos.
Stillness.
Two sides of the same coin.
Plup...plup...plup...
The blood rain fell.
Vrrmmm...Vrmm.....
The circle of blood grew taut.
They stood in the centre.
The eye of the storm.
Hiss!
Yorant sang, as its edges dripped to the floor.
There was a brief silence, broken only by the pouring rain and vibrations all around.
It was then, the tall figure's head tilted.
"It's impossible boy."
The words felt final.
Given.
That ember gaze narrowed on the boy's visage.
Distorted. Flickering almost.
"To fight what death cannot take..." he muttered.
Plup...plup...plup...
The drizzles of rain thickened, as if stirred by his will.
Each drop shimmered, as they glistened the ground in red.
What once fell dragged yet soft, now threaded through the air.
Vrrmmm...Vrmm.....
"Futile."
The scene was still for a while.
The short lapses in the air seemed to be the boy's only response.
Aside from the thin stream of crimson rolling down his eyes and ears.
His body... something was happening.
But... it was then he took a step.
Plup...plup...plup...
A quiet sound under the torrent.
A shift of weight.
It wasn't rushed. It was inevitable.
There was nowhere but forward.
Hiss!
Yorant sung at the distortion rippling through the air.
It was a constant anomaly.
The tall figure simply stood still, as the medallion swung round his neck; his bony fingers clutching at his side.
Vrrmmm...Vrmm.....
He watched him. That white mask, as abstract as clay.
It was then... the rain changed.
Plup...plu----
The droplets that once fell, dragged themselves upward.
Frozen.
They trembled in mid-air, unable to obey gravity, as if tugged by strings.
Each drop shook.
Then...
They split.
Stretching thin like needles...
Siiinnk.
It was clear they weren't simply falling.
Plu--Siiinnk. Siiinnk.
They were aiming.
RIPPLE!
It didn't take long.
In an instant the boy moved.
Siiinkk! Siiinkk!
Those thin crystalline needles tore downward from the sky.
Hunting.
Siiinkk! Siiinkk!
RIPPLE!
The air distorted, almost creating mirages as the world struggled to recognise if anyone was truly there.
The tall figure, Drenn, watched the boy scatter all around, the rain seemingly refusing to touch him as he disappeared in and out.
Siiinkk! Siiinkk!
In and out.
He kept moving.
Almost like a blur.
'You can't keep this up forever boy.'
Was he right?
The boy's complexion... seemed worse.
RIPPLE!
Siiinkk! Siiinkk!
Was he getting closer?
Vrrmmm...Vrmm.....
The circle of blood groaned as it tightened, the air potent with a hunger that burned.
Outside, apart from the boy's face... he seemed faster.
Darting through a void that avoided the ever falling needles of blood from the sky.
Inside...
That was a different story.
He didn't show.
He didn't make any sounds to attempt to.
Siiinkk! Siiinkk!
The world wailed.
His veins screamed.
Inside his body was like a widening black hole, pulling every breath, every heartbeat into its void.
RIPPLE!
Something was tearing.
Tendons?
Thought?
There was no way to tell.
The longer he moved, the more the world rejected him.
Still...
He stepped forward.
RIPPLE!
Faster.
RIPPLE!! RIPPLE!!
Even faster.
The world seemed to tear itself as he grew in speed.
Drenn stared, rooted to the ground.
RIPPLE!! RIPPLE!!
It continued.
Then...
Nothing.
Siiinkk! Siiinkk!
The needles still fell. The circle still grew taut.
And yet suddenly there was nothing.
No form.
The boy was gone.
Vrrmmm----
The circle seemed to hesitate as it vibrated.
The needles paused in mid-air.
The distortions were gone.
'...Where?'
'Where did you go?'
Drenn's head turned.
He couldn't sense him.
...He couldn't have simply gone invisible.
It was as if the world had swallowed him.
RIPPPLLLEEE!!
A gap tore through the air.
Suddenly he was there.
Right before the tall figure.
Close enough to touch.
Drenn's gaze widened, ever so slightly.
Too late.
SHHHAHHH!
The Fang tore through the air...
Or it should have.
SHKK!
The blade met flesh. But Drenn did not move.
Didn't even blink.
The wound sealed almost as soon as it opened.
A familiar scene.
Flesh crawled. Blood slithered back beneath his skin.
Meaningless.
But then--
The boy's wrist turned.
Not to strike again...
Lower.
Shhkk!
It was toward the chain around Drenn's neck.
The medallion.
Hiss!!
That was when Drenn reacted. His hand shot up.
Yorant hissed, rising in a murderous aura.
It was too late.
Ching.
Something tugged.
Metal had snapped.
The medallion was no longer on his chest... it hung loosely on the boy's blade.
It hung loosely on his Fang.
Rmmmm!
For the first time... Yorant didn't scream.
It growled.
The air around the monster shuddered.
A tremor ran down his arm.
His elongated fingers twitched...
His head lowered, as those slits turned a darker tone.
"You dare..."
His voice was low.
"Give it."
It wasn't a plea.
And there certainly wasn't restraint in the comment.
RIPPLE!
But by then, the boy had already stepped back.
One, two paces.
Was it fear?
No.
He had to. His legs nearly buckled.
"Khkk--"
For the first time, the boy had uttered words.
Although they weren't. His mouth had only opened to spray crimson.
Blood.
From his own mouth.
It continued to flow from his nose.
His ears.
THUM! THUM!
That familiar sound rang through the air as his hollowed eyes stared in front.
It was a ringing.
A ring so violent it felt like glass was being poured through his skull.
His stomach groaned.
The Fang trembled in his grip.
The world was fighting him.
Still, he had the medallion.
There was no way he'd let go of it.
Was that wise?
Yorant's edge scraped the ground.
Frhrkkk!
A red mist swelled around the man...
He was no longer calm.
He no longer had the air of certainty.
"You shouldn't have done that."
He had the air of reckoning.