Amari Abara
Ah, it is war then Eh? The sheep scatter before the lion.
Amari took his eyes from the small girl. It was fun seeing the effect he had on prey. The way she nearly shit herself just under his gaze. But she was hardly a snack and he was in search of a meal.
Power.
An aphrodisiac.
Power is what creates order. It is not friendship. No. It is not Cooperation. No. It is power and necessity. The power to get what you want, and the necessity to do what others won't.
Power is what Amari was promised, but it seems he would have to earn it, as he had everything in his life. He stood in silence while the crowd washed around him. A herd in panic. He stood quiet, eyes closed, a smile on his face. It had been too long since he had to struggle. Since he was challenged. Well, except for her. A problem he let grow out of control.
Then, his stomach seized like a fist. Sweat gathered on the back of his neck, pulse quickened. It couldn't be. Across the room he saw her moving. Lithe as a panther, low to the ground, just like he taught her. It couldn't be her.
Curse you spirits. Do not taunt me.
His thoughts began to spiral.
Control yourself. Do not become the prey you hunt.
His eyes scanned the crowd but before he could spot her again someone grabbed Oya, the shotgun strapped to his back. Amari felt rage surge. He spun, teeth grit, long hair whipping around, and he felt his elbow connect with someone's jaw. He cared not who it was. Nobody touches Oya. The jaw shattered to dust on impact and Amari looked down on a man half his age, skin like charcoal, eyes rolling into the back of his head. There was no pulling punches in the wild, and Amari hadn't held back, he put his whole body behind the blow. It looked as though the man's head had nearly been torn from his neck.
Time to finish the job.
In one swift motion he pulled Oya free, leveled her.
"Listen to the Lion's roar, child."
Amari consigned the man to death as he squeezed the trigger. The crowd around him screamed and scattered.
This is home. It is good to be a King.
A cone of gore spread out from the corpse. Everything from the shoulders up was erased; turned to red paste and bone fragment.
The pleasure of a kill washed through him, but he shook it off. It was time to focus. He looked back towards the crowd, but she was gone. If she was ever there to begin with.
"You test me today, Spirits. But I will rise above." he announced. It was time to hunt. These robed men had promised him power and he was going to get it. Arcane catalyst.
Tis shamanic nonsense.
That's what he thought. Or at least it was before the old man had turned away every attack Amari sent his way before subduing him with a gesture.
This is what true power was, and he wanted it.
He looked around at the nearest door. They all had symbols above them, but it mattered not. He fingered the belt at his waist, cocked the empty shell from his shotgun and walked through the door below the flame sigil.
The halls beyond were victims of war. Cracked brick and blasted mortar held together only by the weight pressing down above it. The little art that wasn't torn from the walls showed scenes of destruction. Men wielding the powers of creation. Vast plumes of fire, living snakes of lightning, and spinning cyclones of earth. The power of a vast army in the palm of your hand.
Amari smiled; this would be him. He would stand above all, and look over his lands from a throne.
The hall opened up into a proper wing, and choices expanded away from Amari in all directions. He continued on straight, wasting little time on decisions.
Most doors he passed were cracked and hanging loosely in their flames. He peeked inside but saw only dusty classrooms, a washroom, and a closet filled more with spider webs than equipment.
Eventually, one door stood out from the rest. This one made of interlocked stones of magma, living fire erupting and dancing between the cracks. Amari stood before the door, considering it. There was no handle, no switch. Just a collection of rocks.
Above the door he saw the English word "Reward". He scoffed and prepared to move on. Rewards were earned, not given, and he had done nothing to earn it. Yet.
Amari continued on until he heard a sound he was familiar with.
Battle.
He traced it to a room with an ornate wooden door. Inside was an interesting tableau.