Heaven And Hell

The Kill

Kolgod closed his eyes in preparation for the searing pain of the branding iron, focusing on the sweet scent of red spider lilies. Relaxing himself best he could, although his jaw still clenched despite his efforts, to relieve the pain and take the satisfaction of seeing him in anguish away from his father.

"Your mental fortitude is.... Impressive. But it's annoying." Zalgo spoke with a cocky tone of voice, thinking Kolgod wouldn't be able to escape.

He smirked.

"Think instead of all your friends fighting in Midgard, the foundation being slowly brought to its knees. The holy ones, all the way above, staring down at it all and doing nothing while they lean back and sip wine."

Kolgod snarled viciously in return, "You'll be dead the moment I'm out."

Over the past 20 years Kolgod had been infusing very little of his power into his bindings, not nearly enough for his father to notice, but the bindings had begun to make the same sound as thin ice with every little movement Kolgod made.

Through the ear canal. Deep into his father's skull. That's where he would drive his claws. Rip open the head. Smash the brain.

Kolgod stopped himself.

No. Leave it wide open. It's lethal enough. Let him suffer in his final moments.

Kolgod hadn't noticed, but his little smirk had grown into a wide, teeth baring grin. His power, stored so long it had become rotten, began to make his skin smoke. A low chuckle filled the room, and grew to a maniacal laugh before his shackles shattered, throwing pieces everywhere and destroying equipment, glowing brightly and flying around, the air itself burning in the wake.

His father curled into a ball in the corner, trying to hide. He always was a lily-livered coward. Kolgod flew at his father with one fling of his gangrenous and tattered wings; the stench of rotten power and flesh filled the room. He drove his hand forward, and time almost seemed to slow as he felt his hand make contact, slowly driving deeper into Zalgo's flesh and through the skull, shattering a perfect line in tandem with the seams.

Kolgod spoke one last time with his father, which is much more than the man deserved in the first place.

"You will never win, even after your death. You'll never see it. Your soul has been long gone," Kolgod giggled, "Goodbye father, and good riddance."

Kolgod stole all of his father's power as Zalgo tried desperately to reclaim it and heal himself, causing Kolgod's injuries to heal instead but leaving nasty white scarring on his wings, body, arms, and anywhere else that had been hurt before.

Upon the finishing of the healing process Kolgod spread his wings and flew towards the portals that led to Midgard, snatching equipment and weapons from the souls raining from the megaportal in the center. Unfortunately, he recognized most of them, and the soldiers recognized him. They wished him luck, throwing their equipment to him. When he broke the surface, what was up there was just another hellscape, another ring if you will.