Random Midas Scene: Two
𝔄𝔫 𝔲𝔫𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔨𝔶 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱
Midas stood atop the car, his form silhouetted against the backdrop of a cold night. The relentless wind whips through his hair yet does not push him, as if nature itself acknowledges his dominion.
"The newer swordsman,"
he muses, his voice carrying a note of subtle amusement,
"they grow faster, yet their minds remain perpetually naive."
His lips curl into a sardonic smile. For Midas, the pursuit of power holds little allure if his triumphs are hollow victories.
***
Another ontop of the train, Rokuta, was looking to the sky in Boredom
"why do I have to fight these slayers? What if there is a hashira?"
He whispered, his words flowing into the air, presumably never to be heard by another.
"you're upper one, why did he send you here? Does he not think I can handle myself?"
Midas turns his gaze towards Rokuta, his eyes piercing with a cold, unyielding intensity. With a voice laced in derision, he responds to the upper 6's inquiry.
"Perhaps he doesn't believe you possess the mettle to handle the task at hand. After all, one must question the capabilities of those who question their own worth."
A wry smile graces Midas' lips as he continues, his words dripping with arrogance.
"Very well, I shall grant your wish. I will focus my efforts on capturing the rogue while you revel in the glory of elustrious combat. But remember, if you find yourself in dire need of my assistance, you will have to beg and grovel like a dog."
Without hesitation, Midas swiftly darts towards the front of the coach, his movements so fast upper 6 wouldnt even notice his dissappearance until he looked himself. In an instant, he had positioned himself behind the conductor, his hand gripping the back of the man's neck.
The conductor trembles under the weight of Midas' numbed presence, fully aware of the precarious situation he finds himself in. With a menacing aura swirling around him, Midas leans in close, his voice a mere whisper that carries an unmistakable threat.
"Listen carefully. If you dare to let this train falter, to decrease its speed or bring it to a halt, you will find yourself robbed of the light of the sun come tomorrow. Your life hangs by a thread, and it is in your best interest to comply."
The conductor, paralyzed with fear, nods frantically in agreement, understanding the severity of the consequences that await him should he fail to heed Midas' warning. The demons dominance is palpable, his control over the situation absolute.
With a satisfied smirk, Midas releases his hold on the conductor's neck, the man gasping for air as he falls back into his duties. The train hurtles forward once again, its speed maintained under the watchful gaze of the golden king. Midas, now focused on his own task at hand, vanishes into the shadows of the train.