A man who has known immortality and escaped from it's grasp, only to be fooled and be placed under the same condition he has once manage to escape.
Now. Four people, cursed with immortality and the guilt of their past, Follows the man to reason with...
Chaos. It reigns the battlefield within it's blood-soaked claws. The crimson liquid of soldiers mixing together as weapons lay at the ground, broken and separated from their owners as they found no peace even upon their death, Only a look of terror was the only face they could muster as they die silently over the muddy surface of the battleground.
A man stood their at the war zone. His stature almost exposed by the torn fabrics he was wearing. Cuts, bruises, stab wounds, and even the blades of the swords that was still stuck around his body as he bleeds out from all of his wounds and injuries.
Yet, the man seemed to be unbothered by the position he was in. In fact, He wasn't feeling anything. Lifting up his left hand, a mechanical arm was shown into his eyes. He controls it, flexing his fingers as he clenched the prosthetic hand to see if was still working.
He focused, closing his eyes as he felt the quiet and petrifying scene he was placed upon. Flicking his left wrist, a spark of fire was lit as the wheels of his prosthetic arm, an object landing into his cold, metallic left hand. It was a small, four-sided edge throwable. A shuriken is that his world calls it.
He felt it, one— No. two, overwhelming aura from behind him. The spirits one of them wielded were cold and and desolate from emotions, hidden when it comes to the heat of the battle. One wears that aura as an king, highly respected and exudes a commanding nature from how calm their spiritual nature it is. What interest the man the most about the latter was that, he could feel a sense of unnatural being from mixing within his profound aura.
He concluded. "Emanator" He spoke out from under he's cold, emotionless voice, Throwing the shuriken from behind as it pierces the wind with precision towards the target. The targets however, were skilled, much more skilled than those rotting away, dead on the ground fighting him.
One of them, shrouded within the dark shadows outside of the field, seems to pull out something from their side, a weapon of sorts. The moonlight reflecting what the warrior was holding, as they made a quick move and sending the throwable immediately into the air, sending the shuriken straight to the sky before striking itself on the ground. Their figures, once coated with darkness, slowly dissipates as they were finally hit by the bright moonlight, the lunar star giving it's majestic view to the ugliness and violence from below.
Two warriors approach the man with cautious and readiness. their armor were luminescent by the strong ray of light reflected by the moon as the fabric of their clothing fluttered majestically within the air.
The man that was standing at the center of the bloodbath observes the two figures cautiously as they approach closer within his vicinity, His eyes momentarily focusing on one of the warriors.
To his left was the same gender as his, having the appearance of a tall man with a light complexion. He's long white hair was tied with expertise, turning the long messy hair into a ponytail with a red ribbons tied nicely. He's bright, promising golden eyes that spokes of his power and experience that he used as a commander, even a beauty mark that rest under his left eye.
His clothing consists of an oriental-styled blouse modified with plating and golden armor in the shape of a on his right arm. He also has two capes that drape over both shoulders,making the strong winds blow and flutter the fabric with grace, adding to his supremacy. His waist armor was compliment with multiple belts tied and strapped around him. Leather vambraces, red trousers with thigh harnesses, and tall boots, with a scroll and tassel attached at his hip.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
