midnight's rage

m i d n i g h t ' s r a g e | o n e

[ s l a y e r ]

unedited

The sound of suede leather combat boots hitting the cold metal floors, echoed throughout the vacant hallway. Arms swayed, simultaneously, back and forth, as a pair of muscular legs carried the slender figure aimlessly around, vaguely loitering in the direction of a set of double doors. It was strange to have someone wandering in the corridors so late in the morning. One would've be claimed daring or even foolish to be late yet he carried himself as if he had all the time in the world, even when he knew very well the consequences.

As he approached the doors he took in a deep breath, bracing himself for the painstaking and extensive rhetoric he would no doubt receive. Shoving open the entryway, he strolled into the training room. Instantly everyone's attention fixed on him, as if he was a notorious luminary. His stance was casual although there was this certain grace and menacing aura around him that had caused everyone to be so captivated. All eyes settled on him, those engaged in combat stopped. Some looked at the boy in pure awe and admiration while others just wondered what punishment he would receive for not being punctual. Maybe they could finally see someone being slaughtered for once and maybe, just maybe they can quench their constant thirst for blood. Amateurs. Amateurs was what anyone would dub those bloodhounds. Sure, their assumption would've been correct if it had been anyone other than the boy however they didn't apprehend that this particular lad was the only exception.

A man dressed in simple combat armor, consisting of a metallic chest piece and clad leather slacks, was first to approach the boy. "Dryth." The boy spoke first, addressing the leader as if he had the same position as him or even greater. Expression was stern but somewhere behind those apathetic eyes held latent respect. He was what most would claim looked like a military general, from the haughty vibe he emanated to his contemptuous posture, it wasn't difficult to tell he was someone of significance.

The boy let out a yawn, not quite fully awake yet. Dark ebony hair was in disarray, spiked out in all different directions, and melanoid eyes were still bleary and half open. He shrugged with an lackadaisical attitude as if to say he couldn't care less. "Yes?" The boy sneered, his deep, velvety voice ringing athwart the entire training room. Anyone who knew this lad would know that he was never the morning person, his temper, like an eternal raging storm, was worst at daybreak.

His actions earned him a disapproving glance from the man, only the look vanished almost immediately and his expression returned somber and lull. "You're late... again..." Came his adamant statement. "Now, I'm confident that a senior like you would understand the consequences if one was late for training, weather they overslept or just simply not on time, yet-" Eyebrows twitched as he watch the boy heedlessly wave him off hardly paying any interest to the man's speech. Forcing himself to take deep breaths and fighting the urge to snap a certain boy's pretty little neck, he turned his focus back to the stunned crowd of trainees he had been previously coaching. "What are you guys gaping at? Get back to work, all of you." The man barked, taking his displeasure out on them.

"Yes sir, General Hines." The series of trainees saluted in unison, with hands behind their back and head bowed low.

Turning on his heels, the ebony haired boy began a lazy stroll to the equipment room. He pressed his index finger against the security lock and the hi-tech metal doors beeped in confirmation and rolled open. The boy stepped inside without hesitation and found himself in a room crammed with hazardous swords and daggers. Blades that were polished with diligence and kept in tip top condition with no traces or stains of blood, filled the entire room. They were sharp as well, one slight drag across the throat was enough to end a life. It wasn't hard to tell that the blacksmiths enslaved around here were quite talented, after all Kobe only take in the best of the best.