err0r oneshots

Imagery

[7 different types of imagery all described with Error as our lovely demonstrator]

[ I try okay? ]

Warnings: Vivid imagery of blood + injuries, heavy mentions of suicide, throwing up, panick attack and violence

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Visual.

Dust was scattered around the dirt, the floor of the Surface. Trees were dead or dying on the ground, some being completely removed from the ground that used to hold them. Their usual forest green turned into dirt brown as most leaves had fallen or been torn off for the sake of food or fire. Their sacrifice would be appreciated by Gaia herself, but at this point she is dead. The wasted land filled with stones, and loved ones, all torn by the affects of war. The blood of those lost and of those who've fought for their right on this planet was scattered across the hills and plains. Weapons left as if forgotten or in a decaying body standing tall, their wooden handles suited with stone, iron, or steel and the bodies filled with blood and growing larva. Their organs having been torn out and skiered nearby. Pits of shades of red were found most around their chest, a lack of care of whether they were scared or as demented as those that killed them. Legs were torn off with pools of blood having formed showing that exact place was where they had died. Arms could too be seen separated from their original bodies, every limb being different from the last. Thrown away like some unwanted toy, on the opposite side of the battle grounds or completely devoured by the mouth of war. Muscles could be seen surrounding broken bones while the skin of those fallen was pale, scratches and burns could be seen on the hand and the four countable fingers were limp. The fifth being lost in the fields. They were lucky enough to still have their hand attached. A handful of pairs of legs could be found under a giant boulder, buckets of blood were scattered underneath it showing the unfortunate folk who weren't fast enough to dodge. Innocent or not, people were killed. If you didn't wear allied colors, you were considered an enemy. Dust scattered at the gusts of wind only added a mist to the air making it even harder for the sole survivor to see the wasteland. His bones were darker than night with eye sockets filled with blood. Tears of a broken SOUL fled from his sockets down to his chin disappearing under a cobalt blue scarf with pulled out strings making it look worn and aging. His trench coat is coal and his sweater underneath was a deep crimson both were torn to shreds, barely hanging on. His legs blended with the flow of blood as he cautiously stepped around pools of blood and scattered body parts with bare feet. Looking around with a blue eyelights surrounded by a yellow ring in one of his sockets, his other socket was empty, a hole taking up half his face making it seem like it was an opening to his skull. All this death. All the bloodshed. Just for him. A universe created, bent on his destruction. They all worshiped the Creator as their god, their salvation. So desperate to please. They twisted their children, destroyed the same land they stood on, pushed themselves to near dust. All for his demise. Years had passed with generations training to become stronger than the last, families broken, society crumbling. But they all stood firm in their belief to end his own reign of destruction. They'd destroy the destroyer of Worlds, they'll succeed or die trying. And try they did.

Just a few seconds after he entered sirens roared and the sky darkeren, he was bombarded with attacks and physical assaults. Feet that dug into the bare dirt below clamored to just get a hit on him, cries and screams of many grew closer as he defended himself from his current attackers. Finishing one off only brought another and another, both covered in armor that looked dull no thanks to the lack of a sun. They looked less like soldiers fighting for a cause and more like demons raised from hell. No better than he is. Monsters and Humans were on the same side for once, all just so he could be killed off. So they could spill his blood and gift his head to the bastard who started all this hate. What even makes them think they could kill him if their precious God couldn't? In all honesty, he's tried to kill himself. His body had hung limply from strings tied impossibly tight around his neck (he still has blue noose around his neck, not bothering to take it off in some form of twisted hope), his body floating limply in the blue ocean that refused to embrace him, a broken building tearing at his ribs, a torn shard of what's left of his SOUL, he was missing part of his bones that held his fibula and tibia together causing a limp in his leg, he's ignore basic needs for as long as he's existed. He's ignored himself for so long that his body has become so frail that it's laughable at how he's still standing. His bones crack with contact and at his every move as he dodges and attacks back. The spears and bursts of raw magic targeted at his own lines of magic and SOUL greatly affected him and others who could feel the shift in atmosphere. It was full of Hate. Physical attacks were the first to go, those attacking him head on having no fear of this devil and got as little as a missed punch to as much as a full on set of attacks. It was sacrificial for these people to just risk their lives for a single SOUL, having built up their strengths as soon as they're born only to die within a few minutes of war. Waves of magic flew from the sky alongside bombs and gunfire, a tainted rainbow of colors ranging from yellow to lavender. KIND SOULs were tainted by war, healing their HP to the max and never letting their lives leave for the underworld. They were torturing themselves by keeping themselves and others alive, their bodies contorting to fix broken limbs and magic replaced blood, quickly entering the battle once again. He was backed into a summoned wall of bones as Boss and normal monsters and Humans attacked with no mercy. They had only heard the tales passed down from generation to generation. He mercilessly killed off entire communities and worlds, not having any remorse. Not stopping at any point, an embodiment of death before the real one. He killed with a smile so wide it stuck with survivors of the torn worlds like glue. They'd save worlds across the Multiverse from this monster. If he left, then they would have lived, survived, and trained for nothing.