—[No Man's Land]—
Year 1482 A.D…
The cries and horrors embodies this barren wasteland, it echoes with never ending screeches.
The earth smells of fire ashes, the horrid stench of sprawling corpses intensifies this smell.
An ambiguous, daunting entity strides across the cold, soft soil coloured in crimson. They walk with gloomy purple eyes seeking for preys within sight. It's branch-like figure seeps underground, creating soft thumps that reverberate across the land.
Nearby, there lies a stoned boulder the size of a house, inhabited by a scarfed individual.
'No breaks at all.' Taking a quick chug out of his bottle, he wipes his mouth of the ashe stains breezing across his entire figure.
He reveals his exposed ribcage through the thin sheets of clothing, slim figure, hollowed black pupil eyes and overgrown hair flaying to the wind.
"So tired…" His eyes wavers, his mind wonders. The environment attacks him at his weakest, like a cornered rat.
"Elevar." A shrouded piece of equipment flies towards the air from his back, levitating still.
"Reban." Swiftly, the cloth hanging around the long piece of equipment unveils its sharp edges.
"It's currently Stage Three, soon to be hitting Commander Stage." He softly mutters, his gaze sharpens and stare directly towards a purplish horror.
Stomping incrediblly hard on the soil, the reverberation sends signals to the root branches scattering slithering underneath.
The purplish horror, crackling with its long branch-like figure, locks on to their target. The tall, slender figure wearing a red scarf slowly approaches towards them, causing the encounter to be unsettling to both parties.
"Ki—ki—!" Their screech explodes with a thundering boom, creating a pulsating shockwave across the air.
'Hyperfixation, the ability to lock the target within a given domain.'
'Root Echolocation, the ability to sense living creatures on the surface using heat signatures.'
He continues gathering information from this morbid creature. His mind tempers and hardens with the draining curse of the lands.
The purplish horror spits out acidic liquid, covering its thick branches in glowing green.
'What is this?! It has three abilities?!' His revelation causes a disturbance in his sleepless mind.
The purplish horror extends their branches at Mach speed, trying to grasp the scarfed individual.
As it draws closer to the scarfed individual, he murmurs, "Battle Axe Labrys: Windmill!"
The Battle Axe Labrys spins rapidly, it was so fast, it was to the point where the spin looked slow and misleading. Extending his hand, he charges the spin attack towards the incoming branches, cutting it with ease.
"Ki—ki—ki—!" The purplish horror's terrifying screech creates a gravitational pressure across its vicinity.
Buckling on his knees, the scarfed individual feels extremely threatened.
'Four! This is a mutation!' Coughing out blood to his palms, his bodily functions is slowly coming to an end. His vision is fogged with a purple miasma, causing his mind to drift away.
'It already hit 90%. How terrifying indeed.' The scarfed man softly chuckles, with signs of muscle weakness apparent.
'How nice would it be if this Nether Beast would side with me.' Thinking nonsensical, he really did wished for such an opponent to be his support.
In this dark and surreal moment, the scarfed man grasps his palm upon a necklace wrapped around his dried neck.
Opening up an image adorned at the centre, it reveals a family of four.
Two grown individuals, and two adolescents all sitting on a log by a campfire.
His parsed lips whispers as he softly caresses the family photo, "How I wished to enact justice for you guys. Mum, dad, and my sweet little brother.
His eyes unfocused, the pressure is ongoing, but his mental sanity is still unwavering even till reach 95 percent corruption levels.
'I heard stories of people trying to stay in corrupted lands and wanting to get immunity towards it. But the best that they could reach was 70 percent before they ultimately flee in anguish or die in the midst of unrelenting battle.'
The scarfed man turns his head towards the walking nightmare, its emotions unchanged.
With the impending purplish horror drawing closer, creating branches around him.
Then the purplish horror branches stabs him in all directions, ensuring that he cannot escape.
With each stab, chunks of flesh drizzled in green sizzling liquid reveal on the sharp tips surrounding him like a porcupine.
The scarfed man's eyes darken pitch black, but incredibly enough, he manages to stay sane still.
"100 percent! This corruption is too weak!"
He laughs maniacally with an explosive voice, his whole figure creating purple veins across his tanned skin.
His ears rings with a word, corruption. He feels his power surging incredibly fast.
"Corrupted Armsmaster."
Before he was about to be ensnared by the incoming branches from all sides. He lifts his Battle Axe Labrys in the air.
"It seems like the world doesn't want to see my end just yet!" He embraces the gravitational pressure, feeling it to be natural.
"Variedad de Brazos." The Battle Axe spins and duplicates, multiple versions of it hovers in the air all covered in purple veins.
"El Fallo." The Battle Axes locks in on the purplish horror. With snapping thuds sending shockwaves across, the duplicated axes send a raining barrage filled with murderous intent.
'So painful.' But even if he thinks of his dire predicament, he still maintains a stern and strong headed spirit and continues his counter attack.
If one is at their wits end, why not try their hardest to bring down the assailant with them.
Coughing out more blood, the scarfed man crazily said with a wide grin, "Blood for blood—Let's us become nutrients for the soils."
The brutal barrage causes the purplish horror to split into many bloodied pieces, pieces scatter across the soft ashened dirt. But with a couple seconds of consciousness. The split purple body brightens, it begins unleashing its final struggle. Using its entire life force, the purplish horror splits its branches to smaller ones comparable to needles. The needles cut through the air like tiny missiles, hissing as they close in on him. He feels the breeze of their approach, cold and sharp, each one aimed to end him.
But before it manages to do so, the scarfed man focus heightens as his life flashes before his eyes. His heart pounds, and in that fleeting instant, a lifetime of memories flood his mind. Faces and voices long buried resurface, vivid yet hazy.
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"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth." Sitting by a campfire, a grown tanned man quotes from a past reading.
"Remember that Crilis." He proceeds to pat the head of a young boy named Crilis Menziz.
"Father. Why do you always quote philosophical nonsense?" Crilis kindly questions, his eyes filled with unending curiousity.
"…"
"I get where you are coming from." His father stands up from the oak log, drawing his hands closer to the blazing fire.
"There are lessons to be learnt from life. The process of one's learning of perspectives and meaning comes from Philosophy.
"Once you come of age, wisdom is just the result of experience." His father smiles, with the past memory fading to darkness.
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