Crono's Story by Traum

Chapter 2 Triono

A roar, an unearthly scream of pure jubilation sprung forth from deep within, un-harnessed and uncontrollable, even by me. The moon, in all its elegance hung high above, its beautiful light flowed into my eyes, immersing my body in white radiance. My metamorphosis continued, undaunted by the tearing of my muscles, or the growth of my bones. I couldn't even make sense of my bellow; it had overpowered all my other senses. My muscles bulged, my clothes were torn off my body, the few hairs on body suddenly grew, getting darker, larger and more numerous with each second. I looked at Cris across from me, watched in delight as he grew smaller in smaller in my view, until I dwarfed him so severely that he was nothing, a tiny bug just waiting to be squished. I will never forget the horrified look on his face. All his training couldn't save him from me now; this fight, short of a miracle, was mine.

Then, the rage arrived. I found myself at eye level with the rooftops round me, my body taking up more than the width of the street; my transformation was complete. I was as prepared as I would ever be, then, to destroy Cris. As I realized this, the feeling overcame me. Later on I found out what it was like to witness a member of my species transform, how we unendingly rampage and tirade through our environment, until we've destroyed everything and everyone within our vicinity. People believe that when we transform, we lose control of every facet of our bodies, lose control of our very minds. That, in-fact, is not true. There is a peerless blood lust that rushes through our veins at all times, and when we transform, it is magnified, so much so that it overrides all other trains of thought. Unless there is something for us to focus on destroying, something to act as a center of attention, we will go on a crazy rampage, just to fulfill some sort of biological urge. Luckily for the surrounding people and buildings, Cris' ugly face was more than I needed to focus on him.

I suppose his face wasn't that ugly, I knew he'd had a girlfriend in the north somewhere, but the sight of it gave me a bad taste in my mouth. His mouth hung open, not daring to emit a sound, as I yelled like a banshee once again, and then began my assault. I walked over to him, crashing the street beneath my feet. He began to move, desperately trying to get away. He ran full speed away from me, but it was no use, my stride was too long for him to escape, a steady trot of mine was sufficient enough to catch up to him. Right before I was on him, he turned and shot at me with another of his ki-immersed jump kicks. I tried to catch him while he glided through the air, but he moved to quickly for my large arms to stop the attack. He struck my stomach, and in all honesty, I felt a twinge of pain, like an elephant would, whom a mosquito had bitten. He bounced right off my torso, and fell to the ground underneath me. With an immobile target such as that, how could I resist?

I rose my foot, ten metres in the air, and then brought my whole weight down on Cris' motionless body. A disturbingly familiar crunching sound snapped through the air, as a muffled scream came from under my foot. I skewered my foot into the ground, like I was putting out a cigarette, before lifting my paw off to the side of his body. To my surprise, he was alive, twitching with movement, his arms and legs twisted into deformed positions. I watched him with a coy playfulness, like a cat watches a mouse before it eats it. I saw him squirm onto his side and then with a great push, onto his stomach. I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't amazed beyond belief when he pushed himself up from the cracked street. The pain was clearly visible on his face, yet he fought through it and got up, using only his right arm, as his left was vastly disfigured.

A pang of guilt suddenly dawned on me, as though I felt sorry for taking advantage of my transformation. I studied Cris again; he was the only one on the planet who could challenge me. If he was gone, I'd have no one to fight, no one to compete with, and no one to hate. I would never again be able to get such huge increases in strength like I had after healing from one of Cris' beatings, at least not without physically training for hours upon hours, and just the thought of that churned my stomach. So for a very hesitant second I considered letting him live, of turning the blind eye and letting my unique brand of destruction loose on the city. Then he just had to open his big fat mouth.