Soaked by perspiration peering through the lining of his robes, Roxas felt his lungs aflamed. "Twenty more," he panted, falling to a knee. Pain curling through his torn muscles brought a sort of small smile to his lips. Had there ever been a time since he felt mortal? Felt the weariness echoed a dreadful sense of morality through his bones?
He was born a demigod, conceived through the fusion of a Celestial and High Human. Roxas didn't know much about his parents. Whether they were dead or not, Cain, his Master, never spoke on it, and he never asked. It didn't matter. None of it mattered.
"It's our final stretch!" shouted Jacar. A Versi, an Ancient race that bore the Elements into being themselves. With his arms raised, gripping a staff he'd found lying around, he roared at the top of his lungs. "Kill!"
