Green, an infinite vastness of effervescent life, a view that could ameliorate even the most broken soul, that was the world that befell the youth upon his exit. With fields of emerald that appeared to breathe and roll with even the mildest of zephyr, the land possessed an imperturbable serenity that Eros's prior reality would never be close to recreating.
Thickets of brown overcast the horizon, with gaudy trunks that brushed against one another in a tight yet invigorating battle for dominance, the umbral realm they protected, surviving solely from such conflict and the immensely opaque skyline they bred. A singular ball of flame incessantly burned in the backdrop, hanging listlessly amidst a celestial mural of the empyrean. A realm of amaranthine joy, upon initial inspection, it unquestionably appeared as such; however, the boy titled Eros knew better, for where he stood was a dungeon, though one without monotonous diseased walls or clandestine structures, the very antithesis, an opened air realm sporting any number of dangers.
Eros's head, in tandem with his neck, instinctively spun with a force that would undoubtedly bring whiplash to an average human. He had seen enough of the skyline, of such a pristine world without sin. Now all that remained in both his heart and mind was deathless curiosity and undistinguished worry.
He had to find it, that which he had only just departed, and yet when the boy's body completed its destined travel, Eros would be met with not the falsely prophesied view of an ethereal, shimmering rift but instead the same monotonous field of green from which he had just left.
The portal was gone. Of course, it was. The boy didn't expect it to remain. Eros knew better. He had been taught as such, overheard tales that could only be true and yet, he still held out hope that, for some reason, by some ungodly machination, it would be different, that if needed, he could always return, no matter if that made him a defect or not.
The hand that clutched the 1.2-metre blade unconsciously tightened, he had affirmed his place in the world, or rather his lack of knowledge in such a field, now all that remained was to complete the task set for his hastily made leader, to slay all that inhabited this realm.
'I should be fine. This is only an E-rank dungeon,' Eros inwardly affirmed, ignorant to the constant jittering of metal that fell weightlessly upon his obscured ears. And it was with such affirmation that the boy resumed movement, his chocolate-brown eyes searching once more. However, the apple of his eye had been transposed onto something else, of a colour that bore no place in the comparative Eden he currently resided, crimson, a stain of blood given form in long silken strands. He had to find her, the human bearing the title Fiamma, and sure enough, Eros did.
Situated not even metres before Eros stood a figure that leered at the wonderland, spitting upon its treacherous divinity with an aura akin to an all-consuming flame burning with ill-disguised hatred. In her hands sat not a weapon nor sparks of orange, but merely nothing. There was no need for her esper ability, not when the creatures that lay in such land remained unknown. Still, the girl was not alone, as by her side appeared four visages, all bearing little presence within Eros's mind. They stood there, some sporting arms that lay atop their neck, jovial, buoyant and carefree. In contrast, others rested atop the metallic hilt of the blades they would be wielding, unknowingly dulling the items as they sank ever deeper into the terra firma underfoot.
However, it wasn't merely Eros who discovered them, for the instant his gaze rested upon their coagulated form, he would be met with leers in turn, apparent disapproval of his tardiness and lack of presence. Some boys beckoned him closer, jeering at him with soundless calls, while Fiamma merely stared ever forwards, her body unmoving, uncaring, apathetic to the world.
It took little more than seconds for Eros to arrive in the supposed defensive formation the group prepared, yet, he received no welcoming but instead, eerie ambivalence to his existence, one that brewed an aura of permeating loathing that even the nightless land struggled to penetrate, still, one Fiamma would shatter with little more than a single sentence.
"We're all here now, right?" The girl poised, her question borderline rhetoric to the mass of F-ranks who could do little more than shake a head to the flaming queen's call, an action the person herself couldn't detect for her back remained her ever turned to their forms. "You know your purpose. If I'm at any point in danger, you are to sacrifice your life for mine." The teen continued, her every utterance festering in the humid air for all to hear, her order absolute and unquestionable.
"Though it's not like you'll have to, considering the frustrating ease at which this dungeon's ranked." She added in little more than a self-serving whisper, one that should have otherwise gone unheard yet oddly permeated in the youth whose form lay furthest distanced, Eros, who heard her notion with subtle clarity, along with a minute message that propped up once more in the centre of his view.
{+2 Affection}
"NOW! Let's get moving. I believe this dungeons monsters lay dormant in the forest," She bellowed, her gaze that formerly lay magnetised to the backdrop now placed upon the group of boys in an uncharacteristic display of optimism, or rather perfervid animosity, that which could easily be mistaken for the former.
The subtle clank of metal befell the land, hushed whispers of grass left in the wake of the group's movements, the slow scraping of earth that waged war with myriad tips of blades, they slaughtered, massacred the distance between their former place of arrival and the darkened canopy that remained unaware to their sinless presence. The once blinding light of the sun soon dimmed, shrouded by the wooden monoliths as though committing deicide against the seraphic creation, until eventually, the celestial item vanished, leaving in its place a caliginous horizon of brown mixed with the joyless unknown. The collective stood there, guided by their goddess bearing the name Fiamma, on the precipice of the irreligious realm, the sparse sounds occupying their ears, taking the form of the hair-raising splintering of distant wood and belligerent branches while remaining utterly ignorant to their own symphony of aberrant breaths.
"Line up by the edge of the wood but do not enter. Wait for whatever lies within to escape," Fiamma half-heartedly ordered, the purpose behind her words an unknown to the plebian mass yet, carrying new meaning to Eros, the sole boy who knew of the potential power such orders brought. Once more, the clamouring of weapons reigned supreme, from the silver hilt of the blade that quivered unsettling within Eros's vice-like grasp to the broad spears and axes of his coequals that lay apathetically held between their beady palms. It was a cacophony sound, yet, one merely fleeting, for upon taking equal distance across the horizon portrayed by Fiamma's will, they froze, laying paralysed in wait for directions that would never come, at least not by word of mouth.
Orange, an incandescent sight of luminous flame, that which breathed and sparked, wishing to consume the very heavens, fulgurating in the most primordial seductive manner such conflagration befell the boy's view the instance he turned to face the crimson-haired beauty. Its present meek form, one capable of being compressed and controlled, lay caged within her dainty fingers of ivory-make, peering through the intermittent bars of flesh with its blazing eyes of ember. This was Fiamma's ability, her pyrokinesis, the potential to create and manipulate flames given life, and this was how Eros assumed she would deal with this dungeon.
The sight of the girl basking in her blazing light, dyed a sporadic violent orange, could only be described as horrifically angelic. Her ruby-red eyes, apathetic to all, reflected the sins of the earth and the power she possessed to cleanse such aspects, while her crimson hair heralded the blood that would spill. The boy watched with peeled eyes as Fiamma's right hand, that which prisoned the imminent rapture, began to twist and contort, her formerly firmly shut fingers opening in a blasphemous display of saintly power allowing escape to the impassioned avenger that burst from within. Heat befell the world as the light danced from within the girl's open palm, soaring to the woodland with a speed Eros's F-rank eyes could only narrowly observe.
*BANG* The land, once obscured by a thick cowl of umbral make, now lay stained an interbred mix of yellow and red, the once distant howls of moving trees now replaced by little more than the desperate wails of wood and bark, the endless witching hour brought life by the canopy of impregnated murky foliage now an infernal hellscape of treacherous luminosity. Titanic clouds stained monochrome grey festered amidst the air, tainting, defiling, committing adulteration against the once pure land deemed blasphemous by none other than the foreign humans, their seed tortuous to the body, inflammatory and depraved.
Vehement cries of the land fell upon Eros's obscured ears, yet they appeared deaf upon his mind. All that reflected within his chocolate-brown eyes were orange, a second sun that besmirched his form, given birth by none other than the holy maiden who lay to his wayside. Droplets of perspiration clutched tightly upon his pale skin shaded a violent mottle of reds and yellows. In a manner akin to a beggar, they pulled at his visage, staining his hair once an average shade of inoffensive brown a repulsive dingy black, the cloak of obsidian embossed with halcyon wealth the boy wore appeared merged with his flesh, the layer underneath having been soaked into little more than a translucent mass of which it would likely never recover. This was the power of a B-rank esper, the gifts they wielded that which man could never hope to match. The world before him, once holy, had been terraformed into little more than a depraved hellscape.
Yet, in such infernal land of diabolical sin, the boy saw movement, not in the form of collapsing trunks that now lay dead, buried with little more than a coffin of dirt, but something more animalistic, barbarous, inhuman. A mound of flame possessing zoetic sentience that moved ever closer to the boy, indifferent to the impairments of the opaque miasma that scorched one's every orifice. New sound joined the cacophony of despair. However, its song was different to the rest, not that of crumbling wildlife but agonising sentience, a tortuous wail that grated the soul of all who bore testimony to such a broken ballad.
"GYAAAHHHHHH!!!!!" From within, the sea of flames erupted such a cry. Though its origins were not formless, it had a body, a root of which all sin lay dormant. Something moved, born from the womb of such an inferno. Its cry now a howl that brought trembles to Eros's rather lanky form. And that was when his flaming gaze caught sight of it. The creature that emerged birthed anew, though to say it had been reborn would be an overstatement. Its karmic records had caught up to it. Now, what scurried before the youth, breaking free of the scorching horizon, could be described as little more than a sentient flame.
Its flesh, formerly a pristine green, lay charred and blackened, with pustules of simmering skin that appeared to grow and shrink as though in mourning, sizzling and popping, creating a portrait of crimson upon the umbral canvas of skin. The sporadic rhythmic tune of cooked flesh echoed from the body, the bile that once lay within now a steaming mess of vapour that had yet to bring an end to the creature's life. In place of eyes now loomed little more than conjoined sockets, flesh sewn shut, never to be opened again from which the final remains, taking the appearance of white sludge, poured listlessly. Any hair the entity may have possessed had long since dissipated, giving way to a denuded midget standing a little over 1.2 metres in height. Still, despite having escaped from the torrent of flames that loomed behind, the creature remained embraced by the element, with orange plumes encircling its figure akin to an aura.
What ran towards the boy was a goblin, a being Eros had long since heard of. Appearing predominantly in low-ranked dungeons, they bore little harm to any capable esper. However, the sins they would commit given the opportunity could only be described as genuinely bestial and atrocious. Their existence was deserving of little sympathy, and yet, seeing the goblins form even Eros's stomach he believed long since placid churned once more.
The blade clutched to his side chattered as though urging for action, and yet, he could do little more than stare at the impending form engulfed by flame. Eros knew what he had to do, why Fiamma had positioned them in such a way. What her actions implied, and yet, he remained paralysed, inwardly debating the cruelty the beast was currently enduring and whether it would even make it to him before dropping dead, and that was when he heard it, little more than a whisper one could mistake for a passing gust of wind, a voice eerily soft for the figure it exuded from.
"Kill whatever leaves,"
Eros's body gained animation, and with steps ever so shaky, he wobbled towards the maimed creature, his ability utterly useless, little more than an F-rank esper with a blade he had never used. Its tip hung low to the ground, grazing upon the off-coloured arid land as if Eros was unsure of where to place it, possessing neither the muscles to bear it in a perpetual state of readiness nor the courage to do as such. Still, his chocolate brown gaze never left his enemy, that which he was destined to kill. The world fell oddly silent, the perpetual drone of sparks and vengeful massacre now little more than a blurred sentiment that couldn't lay fixed upon the boy's mind. Only one sound mattered, that of the snapping hay underfoot, the tactile feedback that jostled his person, the sole thread that tied him to reality.
Tinged in orange and mirroring a world of decay and destruction, the blade suspended loosely by Eros's side was soon to rise, its weight infinitely heavier than what he remembered, his arms rattled, muscles weaker than that of his peers, he was before the beast now, its rattling char tinged cry had no place to fall spare for his ears which they failed to ostracise.
He would do it. Eros would claim his first life. The boy repeated such mantra endlessly, bolstering what little confidence he possessed until the forlorn conclusion was finally put in motion. Silver glinted under the light of hell, a feat it would never accomplish again, as with one nascent strike, the mound of metal collided with the goblin's cauterised neck. It sank into the fried flesh, gouging and maiming more than half the land through which it passed until the youth ran out of strength, and the creature fell backwards, lifeless, metal stuck into its half-decapitated neck from which seared meat lay liquidised, pulled from bone and the spine that replaced the hanging neck as the precipice of the once green entity's height.
It was dead. Eros had killed it, extinguished the life from its tortuous existence, and yet, he felt nothing, no sympathy for the entity nor disgust with himself. He had accomplished his goal. Scarlet sizzled atop silver, dripping endlessly upon the dyed earth as the youth turned his attention elsewhere, unaware of the momentary flash of pink that erupted from his left eye nor the mild increase of affection which read.
{+4 Affection}
Instead, his sight was set upon other things, the expanse of the flaming horizon and, more particularly, the figures that lay to his left, wielding weapons dyed red by blood they loomed there, a mountain of corpses unique to all by their feet, apathy, neigh, joy forced upon their faces, they had seen this before, performed such horrific acts, they weren't new to such life-threatening scenarios unlike the boy, their esper abilities more practical in nature held full captivation of the boys mind, from a mild light that hovered at the precipice of a bland spear, to a soap-like substance that coated another's blazer, they had found solitude in their place at the lowest, finding a sort of vindictive joy in their current antics. Eros studied them, their smiles never fading, before moving his gaze to the beauty adorning a head of blood-coloured hair. Chocolate-brown collided with ruby-red for a second as the girl focused her gaze on the boy....before everything changed.
Crimson.