Ether: Way of The Blade.

Chapter 5: Amon, The Behemoth.

Shock lightly coated Isaac's scoffs. Breaths repressed by arrogance teetered at the borders of his lips, in sought of denouncing any brood to lurch and prowl its way into the banks of knowledge residing in his mindscape. He, like a vault, pried shut his enticement, interest retained in the reticence of a grin - even a fool could detect its fraudulence. Disheveled joys of the moments were since wiped clean away, this hollowed shell of a man the result of the prime minister's praise - or, rather, a lack of. The tone behind the disclosure - it could have forged a grimace along those ashen lips, ensued hatred into those beady, brown eyes. " ... A-ah ... " It was all he could muster out. The grungy-skinned boy whispered as if exhaling foul smoke.

" I come from a place where we do not seek the validation of those higher than us to get what we want, or do what we do. What would you know of it, Officer? "

The response nearly made him seethe with rage: the titan's stare sank deep into Isaac's, hazel scintillations cascading along the irises, before an appeasing grunt followed from his domineering stature. The officer could not discern whether it was out of amusement, or disappointment: he knew damn-well it wasn't anything out of fear. The earth-shattering tremors of a goliath voice shook the room, inauspiciously pervading Isaac's eardrums, so much so as to force the officer to wince. The words aimed to besmirch not only the officer, himself, but the lot of society as a whole, the ideology behind it - the conception of a hierarchy. To Amon, it was nothing more than gum on the bottom of a shoe, or rocks accumulating on the bare skin of feet: it stuck well as an adhesive, but could easily be pulled apart by even the most assimilative of men. So imagine the most rebellious.

After all, what one envisions in the realm of their dreams, can be summoned to the palm of their hand, with ardour. Amon spent every waking moment in the phantasmagoria of escaping the evil clutches of his village, his sister and him, conducive to forging a world of peace and prosperity known to them, even if it was only them, one which they could relish in the bounds of time and in the moment, equally so. For Amon knew best that every moment in life, counted, and every moment he could spend amalgamating a world where the innocence and purity circulating life, balancing life, mattered.

Grappling with the essence of self-pity and jealousy intrinsic to him, Isaac snapped like a twig. The ambience bled tension, blended with the disintegration of all amicability from the office, the officers' faces, more specifically Isaac's. It only made for the most calamitous recipe for disaster.

Teeth stained in piss-yellow gritted tight as the bemused stare turned into one filled to the brim with spite. He lodged down a wad of dispirit, body rattling irately, eyes quaking spitefully, dilating with every decisecond he had to see this buffoon of a third-worlder before his presence.

" Isaac ... "

Very little did the minister's call resonate with his ears, or the audience's eyes with his. No... He was too far gone already. Clenching hands into exasperated fists, his enraged state materialized around him, as greyish strands of metaphysical energy exuded off his erect stature. Amon had watched as he inadvertently made a boy out of a man; he watched as a mere, sapient sentence knocked the officer right off his feet, clean out of his jagged demeanor. In lieu of reaction, the gorilla simply watched: this stoked the flame enough, encouraging Isaac's hand more directly.

The Head Officer dauntlessly took initiative!

Fist cocking back behind the waist, winding up right beneath the shoulder, the vengeful spirit lunged a foot forth, a leopard pouncing into action. Charcoal embers configured blades replacement of knuckles. They cut into flesh & tissue & bone, deathly sharp - more than capable of tearing through any flesh that stood in their way.