Time seemed to slow to a crawl. The Inheritor's smiling eyes fell upon his corpse.
Amidst the loud sounds of Cunber's rage, Eliphas' grin faded. It curled downwards at; first, cracked skin softened, and scarlet eyes dimmed. What little color remained in the Dark Apostle's inhuman visage was drained, leaving him as pale as a corpse - a real corpse, the one that now lies beneath that accrued hide, shattered underneath the weight of a steel crossbeam that stuck in through his abdomen and out his back.
His head tilted just to the side, brows raising - shock, confusion, perhaps? Who could tell? The Word Bearer was loose with his feelings. To serve Chaos is to surrender one's self to that tantalizing abyss lying within us all. Push every emotion beyond the edge of reason and experience the passion of true freedom. Rage, despair, ecstasy, and ambition. All or none - everything and nothing - form the eight-star path upon which the enlightened sinner receives his gift. Bloody or pleasurable, rotten, or mutative; never the same, always different, always suffering.
Death is just another gift. It is chaos. It is to be
celebrated.
Celebration through judgment.
Cunber's muscles suddenly seized all at once. A sharp sensation, like stakes being driven through his supple ligaments, held the Saiyan in place. No amount of gnashing, yelling, smashing, kicking, or blasting freed him. He was rendered impotent. Eliphas' hand reached out just before the Saiyan could drive a fist into his exposed head, softly uncurling to wrap around the warrior's face like a spider. His palm forced against Cunber's lips, and his clawed fingers pressed against his eyelids.
"Look with the eyes that I give you," his voice echoed, deep and displeased.
"And relish in the Truth."
And then Cunber was no longer at the crash site.
At first, he would not have noticed anything different, as the world remained calm despite the chaos of the situation. It was after the Inheritor evoked the word 'truth' that the Saiyan's eyes quiver intensely. The color on Eliphas' figure began to melt off of him as a painting left too long in the sun. Then went the ground beneath his feet, as also did the wreckage and Hell's crimson horizon. The greyish shapes left in their receding wake remained for just a few moments, hanging in the air like poor mockeries of what was originally there. They, too, ceased existence, and nothing beside remained beyond the infinite space.
Then, chaos followed.
Something unearthly gripped the Saiyan's eyes with incomprehensible malice. A maddening dream of a sort ultimately indescribable seized every facet of his crushing senses in a levy of abhorrent visions of someplace far beyond this uncertain veil, a place so subsumed in the unfathomable essence of chaos that what it truly was twisted at every microcosm of every second. A living nightmare welcomed the Saiyan into its ever blackened abyss - submerging him in a torrent of thought that shred his self apart in an instant of his arrival.
The sensations defied description. The utterance 'Cunber' soon had no meaning, the identity that it may have once belonged to disseminated. And yet his Body remained - still a spirit, much like the Inheritor, but a vessel nonetheless for what soon followed. Cunber's form shambled backward from Eliphas' hand into a fit of thrashing and howling. Unintelligible gibberings slipped free of his shuddering jaw, hands flying up to his broad face to scratch into his eyelids. His nails dug into the skin and ripped it away in grotesque repetition, eliciting howls of pain with every gouge.
Much to his maddened displeasure, the skin did not separate from his bone - it twisted. The Saiyan's arm flew backward and mustered a muffled snap from his shoulders, which then began to bulge outwards and twitch, the flesh across his body suddenly beginning to roil and bubble like a gory stew. A metamorphosis enraptured what was once Cunber, parts of his skin splitting open to reveal twisted, misformed limbs that flew towards the air with a rapidity that rivaled lightning across the sky. The hair across his head and back calcified like bone, forming jagged horns and bony spurs sticking jarringly out from his mutated form.
The accursed thing that stood in Cunber's wake was of some diseased fancy, a grotesque mockery of life that resembled a living mass of flailing limbs, horns, tentacles, and teeth. Multiple mouths gnashed at the air for nothing, and tentacles whipped for something to fondle, eyes rapidly blinked and bled some tarlike substance that joins the already growing pool of blood, saliva and other liquids at whatever horrible composition of feet it had. A vague humanoid form may have stood there, but it was no human, nor was it a Saiyan. It's most massive head spat out some gurgled howl to the stygian skyline of Hell - some cruel mixture of a roar and a pained scream.
What it was hearing cannot be faithfully described. A storm of sounds, most of them screams. A single voice quieted the wind for just a moment, speaking directly to the newly formed Chaos Spawn. It had no choice but to serve it.
Now, you have nothing to fear. Nothing to think.
Embrace instinct, the rage you so desperately desired, and heed this one command.
Kill Blackheart.
Only then will I allow you to die truly.
The Chaos Spawn shuddered and gurgled out another abnormal sound, spinning about in vanishing into a blur of hungering flesh. It's set of eyes honed in on Blackheart's fortress. It would relentlessly pursue this purpose with reckless abandon, even as a spiritual entity. It yearned to die at any cost.
Eliphas turned away as the abomination he created vanished beyond the wreckage, calmly stepping over his corpse and glancing down at the scarlet horned helmet lying at his feet. He kneeled and grasped the helm, gently dusting it clean of the grime it had accumulated before placing it over his head. The armor sealed the helmet in place atop his head, his glimmering eyes still shining behind the opening in the front of the mask.
He then turned towards the Devil.
"My apologies, what were you saying?"
@Raynar Saassin @Sark @Jeremi
