Gundham Tanaka: Devas Lament

Devas Lament

The Four Dark Devas of Destruction were resilient. Even with dangerous obstacles standing before them, Gundham had faith in them. That didn't stop the worry pitting in his stomach. His evil would not last in this world, it was up to them. He knew he was minutes away from his dying breath, as he had seen in the trials before his. He wasn't stupid, although he'd been told he was delusional.

He looked at the small pets he had cared for since their birth, and pride filled his chest. They would live on. They would carry out the prophecy. From then on, nobody would doubt Gundham Tanaka and his Four Devas of Destruction ever again. The laughs and odd stares would mean nothing. Every finger ever pointed his way, and every snarky comment, they would be forgotten.

The prophecy was fulfilling itself.

Nonetheless, Gundham still had one last thing to do. Despite the pounding of the animals racing toward him, steered by the devilish Monokuma animatronic, Gundham revealed a stick. It was thick and lengthy, perfect to use as a writing utensil. In the warm, rich, sand beneath him, he drew a circle, then a rushed star, with other varying lines. This magical circle beneath him was almost complete, only one last thing needed. The words of the spell itself.

The sloppy writing came next. He rushed to write out the spell in a language he had hardly understood, but had memorized from his ancient book before ever waking up on Jabberwock Island. He had read this spell many times before, but had never had a use for it, not until now.

Gundham wasn't important anymore, what mattered now we're the Devas. He clasped his hands together, and reeled in the majestic energies surrounding him. The world was excited, he could feel it deep within. It was excited for the change coming about, undoubtably the Devas doing. Every iron in the fire belonged to them.

He spared a glance at Cham-P, the smartest of the quartet. She understood fear, a valuable asset toward the team. He felt a twinge in his chest.

He then looked at Maga-Z, who was both grieving, and staring down Monokuma. He could have laughed. He always was an aggressive pest. Gundham cared for him all the same.

The next in the line was Jum-P. He was wide awake, which was rather unusual. During most hours of the day, he would rather be sleeping. It pained his heart to see such acrid fear riddling the poor deva.

Finally he looked at San-D. Such a bubbly personality, only to be brought down by the execution of Gundham. It was a shame.

He closed his eyes, forcefully. The circle beneath him began to glow. A tell-tale sign of the spell he cast working it's magic. Perfect. The sound of a job well done filled his ears, but his celebration was short-lived.

The Monokuma animatronic rode atop a large mammal, the likes of which he had never had a chance to breed. He wanted to withstand the stampede, but the Gods above were not willing it. He was immediately trampled, not only by the buffalo on the middle, but the surrounding animals as well. By the end of the massacre, he was barely clinging to life. For the last time, he looked to his faithful partners. For the last time, he looked at his family. Tears smudged their fur, and darkened their faces. Gundham gave the loves of his life a final smile, a parting grace, before letting the omniscient beings reclaim him.