Asura Reborn

In a field with the scenery of red dyed soil with countless bodies of horses and soldiers wrapped in metal along with occasional limbs scattered, a youth stands in midst of the post chaos, breathing in the pungent, rusty smell of blood.

If one were to see this youth, he or she would have to hold their own throat tight so that their heart don't escape, as the Ashura and his Possesed Regalia is covered with the fresh, crimson blood of his recent target.

In the calm and serene atmosphere, no one could guess that few minutes ago someone was screaming for aid to the High Gods before getting the heart ripped out.

He looked around, as if the scenery isn't something the Ashura is used to.

"Is this all I am?"

He questions if destruction by him is caused for his thrill or nature. He asks if this is all he is allowed to be.

In his hand he holds the Divine Spark of a Minor Temporal God, fresh from its corpse. Reincarnation for him is as easy as killing ducks now.

"Wait for me, High Gods!"