This was just a short little thing to kill time one night.
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And so the final battle of the war had ended.
It was hard to see through the smoke. Though the basic architecture of the theatre still held, the harsh flames had burned away most of the basic woodwork though only time would tell how long till structural support would last. The heat of the atmosphere affronted him as he scoured the surroundings. Staggering through the crumbling walls, he could not see the two figures who started the blaze though he could smell a horrendous stench. Burning Flesh.
As the path ahead collapsed, blocking his entry to the main stage he ran across to an adjacent hallway. Regardless of the danger, he had to find his goal. He found himself stifled by the fumes the further into the fire and flames he went onward. As the taste of sulphur grew stronger he felt the strength in his limbs weaken as they began to weigh him down. Staggering past the debris he felt his foot bump against something almost soft. And there it was again, the smell of burning flesh.
Looking down he could see his foe. Rather the remains of him. Those once rugged and handsome features were already starting to vanish within the flames and the seal on his left hand had already vanished.
Then the Berserker is dead too.
He hadn't felt his connection to his own servant for a while so the only conclusion was death, he smiled knowing that idiot had finally did something helpful - and none were left to interfere. This meant all the servants of the war had fallen, the grail was ripe for the taking.
Striding through the chaos around him, ignoring the darkness and the flames, he could see it in the distance. It was calling to him like a beacon of light. Hope, even. The chalice still shined through everything around him yet the closer he walked towards it - the further it seemed to be. All he could taste was the sulfur and brimstone in his mouth, he felt so heavy and so hot. As the flames encroached upon him he knew there was no way he could attain the grail and survive. So he took the only option he could. Run.
Run away.
Run and survive.
He could always enter the next war. The root would always be there and after all, what was a few decades?
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Originally Posted by Hymn of Ragnarok
