Blinding light glared through the many ornately decorated windows that ran about the length of the exquisite building that was seemingly hidden away from the world; in the main hall of worship Sarakon could immediately see why this place was called the temple of light. Truly a marvel, it never ceased to amaze Sarakon whenever he saw such fine quality in the works of man and this temple was no different. Even he, a Dark Knight, couldn't suppress his wondrous expression as he took in the finely carved details and figures upon the walls, he eyed them all carefully, savouring all the details while strolling down the hallway towards the centre of the temple.
Burning incense and the aroma of colourful flowers, bursting with life, breathed their vibrancy into Sarakon with each intake of air, and his ears were filled with the droning hum of the many here in worship, praying to their gods. Wasting their time.
It was enough to make Sarakon sick, that they would waste such eloquent beauty and craftsmanship on forces that didn't care for them; it was the ignorance that bothered Sarakon more than anything. These people would pray their entire and in the end it would do them no good, the powers of the realms were only interested in their own little power struggle and the living were among those used in efforts to gain supremacy in that very struggle. A slight frown came over the Tarronian's face; a slight burning sensation came over his entire body, particularly around his chest where scars resided to remind him of the power of prayer, and the burning ferocity of heaven's wrath. This sudden bout of nostalgia made it all the more ironic when he picked out a soul amongst those around him that stood out as familiar. Rekka was nearby. Sarakon had assumed the boy had died, but now it seemed that he had come off the better of the two in their duel in the arena, despite his frail body and generally weak appearance. A rare treat it is, to be able to amend mistakes of the past
More than any other being, the slaughter of the righteous and the holy brought delight to Sarakon, he had revelled in the death of the holy elf, Illuminar Arden, having crushed his body under tonnes of debris and wrenching his jawbone off, he took satisfaction in crushing his head. He hoped he'd prolonged the fool's death just long enough for him to lose faith in his gods and his cause. It had the unfortunate side effect of making the elf something of a martyr to all the other would be Holy Knights of the time, instead of being remembered as one that died a pitiful death, the bastard was glorified and made into a legend, he wouldn't allow that to happen with Rekka. Glancing around at those in prayer, Sarakon knew that none must survive to tell the tale.
Hesitantly Sarakon drew Heretic from his back, since the revelations of his beloved's demise had been inflicted upon him by the blade he had begun to question who was really the master, the man who wielded the blade? Or the unrelenting shrieks from within it, bitter entities of hatred. He felt a vibration run through the blade's length, accompanied by a low hum as the soul's stirred in anticipation of the bloodshed to come, he couldn't trust the blade and yet he couldn't relinquish it either for it's power was to be invaluable in the rebuilding of Tarronia, as it had been instrumental in the founding of the first empire.
Fate it seemed had brought these two together this day, not for a massacre, nor slaughter. This was unfinished business coming to a close.
The Dark Knight stood poised, Heretic held up in the familiar defensive stance, Sarakon had now attracted the attention those around him that had a short while ago been deep in meditation and prayer, he paid them no attention. Sarakon's empty eyes scanned the temple, the door, the walls, the ceiling, and he waited for Rekka to come.
The temple goers would pay worship to different Gods this day in their open mouthed spectating, Gods of war and peace, but these weren't the characters of whimsical tales nor entities in another plain that ignored the people of the world. This clash of titans would be very real.
[ooc - Rekka bangs on about the temple of light sooo much, figured it's time we get a fight in there....it can be a different temple of light to your one if you want though, but I left it really for you to describe Dave mate so, whatever you decide]
Rekka had felt the world around him change. Some towns, villages here and there had had morals, justice and peace restored to their lands. Yet the Evil was growing. As Rekka took a step forward down the path of righteousness for the world, Evil would somehow spring up somewhere- spawning off the wanton destruction of various tools and beings of Darkness. Rekkas cause seemed a hopeless one- to change the world. It was a noble, downright holy, goal- in keeping with the vows he took as a child in the sacred Temple of Light. There had been various Temples of Light dotted around the world. Most had run to ruin- where the Dark had overrun the Light. Yet there was a Temple that still shone as a beacon to those of a pure heart- that no matter where in the world they were, a glance to the sky would be greeted with a faint mystical glow, even on the darkest of days. The light had been a constant source of renewal in Rekka- of his vows, of his cause and of his hope. This Temple was in a place Rekka regarded as secret and only the truly blessed could enter its grounds when the light shone. Rekka believed the light to be Illuminars guiding and protective soul. It was Illuminars tales of heroic deeds that had intrigued Rekka to strive to become the figure he had today.
Rekka was sitting on an outcrop of rocks in the mountain region of the North, stoking a fire on the ground to keep the embers warm and the boar on the spit cooking. As the fire cooled and the boar eaten by him, Rekka stood bolt upright. He clambered up a nearby tree to get a better view, as if his eagle eyes had failed him as to what he had just seen. He had seen nothing in the sky- and that is what unsettled him:
Where is the Light? The Light has never gone out before
Rekka brought his right hand across his eyes to view the horizon once more, He used his left hand to hold on to the tree to stay in position. Something was wrong. The secret place had been discovered. The priests would never allow such an event to occur and the light to fail without opposition. The wind gently blew around Rekka in his position in the tree, toyfully playing with his hair- ruffling it. His robe came undone at his torso and revealed a horrifying truth that Rekka had hoped would never come again. The scar was bleeding. The scar was a mark left by the Dark Knight Sarakon and Rekka had thought it had healed. These events surely were connected. Rekka and Sarakon had fought a battle like no other. It was the light in the sky from the Temple that had aided Rekka that day- the day that he had died, he thought. However Rekka seemed destined to continue his cause until he had completed it, or until the beings he faithfully followed had finished their grand scheme:
Even though I had died that fateful day, I am still here. And if I am- HE must be too
It would seem they would meet once more. Yet Rekka could not be truly convinced that he would be confronting the Fallen One, until he stood in his actual presence and felt his aura. Rekka quickly scaled down the tree. He took out a water bottle and drank some of its contents- unable to take his eyes off the horizon. He stamped on the fading embers of the fire with his right foot to prevent a chance of it flaming up again. The cacophony of animal sounds that were once ringing in his ears was now silent. He looked away from the horizon and saw the forest behind him. Owls, deer, rabbits and other forest dwellers made no sound and did nothing but stare past Rekka into the distance.
Rekka sheathed Vaporil back into its scabbard from the tree trunk where he had lain it. It would not take long to get to the Holy Temple of Illuminar from here:
“By Illmunars immortal soul, I shall smite with furious vengeance on the evil that desecrates the Temple of the Divine One this day”
Rekka uttered this rudimentary prayer somewhat in anger and somehow in pain. The Light had gone- an event never yet to occur until now.
It was evening, the sky a dark shade of blue, and the first star had appeared in the heavens. Rekka began to run down the heavily trodden path. People would come up here from the Temple to seek nature and be at one with it. Rekka had not been back to this temple in months. He was on his way to it- yet his plans had been interrupted it seems and he would visit it now. The faint smell of incense lingered in the air and as Rekka inhaled and exhaled through his nose as he ran, it became more pungent and reminded him of many prayers he had taken within the temples sacred walls. Oddly, the closer he got to the Temple a sense of dread filled his very being. It was faint but an aura was present that was not fit to enter the place:
If it is Him, the priests are in mortal danger. Surely he would not lower his standards to massacre them?
Rekka thought this and realised that if it were Sarakon, morals and what is right and wrong would not enter into the equation. Visions flew through Rekkas mind as the adrenaline pumped around his body as he ran. Visions of what would meet him when he stepped through the doors of the Temple. He prepared himself for the worse.
He slowed his pace and began walking. A few more paces around the corner of the clearing would be the Temple. His footfalls crunched upon the forest floor- a mixture of leaves, grit and soil. Rekka inhaled deeply, turned the corner and began advancing. His heart lifted at the wondrous sight that greeted him. The exterior looked just as he remembered it. A huge steel door that dwarfed a man stood in place in the Temple. The decorative symbols of Holy artefacts adorning the door captured significant and central pieces to the Way of Light. Intricate stain glass windows were placed either side of the door higher up on the Temple face. One depicted the ascension of Illuminor to heaven. The other was of Illuminar bringing Light to the dark world. The Temple was unique and an achievement to the architects and builders of the day. A sense of grandeur and majesty befitted the Temple, as it should. Engraved upon the stone walls were reproductions of a Sun- at full beam. Its rays depicted upon the wall. The rays stretching far and wide across the stone, a metaphor for the goal that Illuminar strove for in the world.
Rekka ascended the cut stone steps to the Temple door. As he made his way up, each step made Rekkas heart lift. Down the centre of the steps, a red carpet flowed- again the picture of a golden sun evident. Rekka saw the door was slightly ajar:
Am I too late? The priests would never leave the door open
Rekka placed his right shoulder upon the door and used his right leg as leverage to fully open it. It easily swung back. Rekka had become strong over his travels- since his last battle with Sarakon, new skills, new power and new strength was his. The heavenly aroma of fresh flowers and incense welcomed Rekka as he entered. It was a smell he had yearned for so long. Long drapes hung on the wall depicting events of profound significance in history. In glass cabinets, manuscripts of laws, prayers and teachings that Rekka had learned from were still here. A golden goblet and a bread roll were atop a small pedestal to the right of the door. It would be taken from here through the inner doors the main temple hall for service. The faint sound of a musical choir emanated from the inner hall. It complimented the scenery he was surveying. It was poignant that the Hymn of Illuminar would be resounding in the Temple as Rekka made steps forward to open the door to the service hall. As he put his left hand on the door, the music stopped. The song was not yet finished. Something was happening inside and he knew the cause before he opened the door:
Sarakon….It must sicken one such as him to be in such a holy environment. Here is the symbol of all that he rejects. Good forsaken for Evil. Light eclipsed by Dark.
He placed his left palm upon the door and pushed it open. The plush scenery of the service hall, without Illuminars light to shine, was overshadowed by a figure in the centre. It was in a stance that denoted its intent. Shrieks of huddled parishioners and priests filled the hall not their music anymore. As Rekka gazed at the frightened people, he took one last look around the hall:
To think that such a holy place would become a battle ground. Yet this event has to occur. Sarakon must be drawn from this world to the abyss
Four stain glass windows on the right, four on the left, were at regular intervals along the two huge walls that ran into the distance. Two other windows were placed on the wall that was at the back of the Temple. When the sun shone, through these windows light would beam down onto the pulpit where sermons were held. The Ten windows in all depicted the legendary Knights of Light- some of Elven kind, some human.
The tiled floor had been hand made and were in keeping with the ornate décor of the place. Two vast marble columns were either side of the door that Rekka had just opened, two more were in the centre and two more were near the stage at the back of the Temple. The marble columns were awash with golden strands that give it an aura of immense beauty when light shone on it. On either side of a red carpet that ran up the centre of the room to the stage where communion was taken, were eight or so wooden benches on the left and right sides. Each bench could hold around ten people. There were no services today and therefore only the choir, the petrified people in the corner, was here.
The Light had gone however and the splendour that the Temple once had was darkened due to the figure that now perverted the holy ground. Rekka announced himself. He gripped Vaporils hilt in its scabbard and pointed with his left at Sarakon:
“Let them go and I will spare your life here and now”
Rekkas voice resounded around the hall, giving it a much higher volume. Rekka was no longer the young naïve boy that Sarakon had challenged in the Coliseum Arena that day. Ironically, it was due to the epic battle with Sarakon before that made Rekka push himself further. He had begun to realise that he could push the boundaries and limitations he once thought were impossible:
“How ironic we should meet once again and in a place where you are not fit to enter. Illuminars Slayer vs Illuminars Successor. You thought that by ending the life of Illuminar you would cease and quell the faith? FOOL. Your corrupted nature and perverted quest for power ends. Shall I let you into a secret? You will die by the hands of Illuminars blood. Prepare YOURSELF”
Ushering the remaining congregation to flee, Rekka readied himself for the retort that was surely to follow. Sarakon, he could see, was in a defensive stance. This would allow the people time to escape. As the last person fled the building, the door swung shut with a gust of wind that blew through the Temple. His right hand remained on the hilt of his blade- different to what Sarakon would have seen before. Vaporil had grown powerful. Rekka knew in his heart that whatever the outcome of the battle, the Temple would bear the brunt of both beings fury.
Whether it was a trick of the sun light that had broken through the darkened day, or something altogether ethereal, a faint beam of light shone through the window that depicted Illuminar and bathed Rekka in a holy glow as if furthur emphasising his point.
______________________________________
Quote:
Quoth Albel Nox:
Imho? it's emo, douche.So if you're going to call me emo do it right.not imao, ihmo, or imo, but EMO.
Last edited by Blitzballer : 01.09.04 at 09:40:49.
Rekka had changed, before he had been meek and frail, yet while his appearance was pretty much the same, something about him was exuding far more confidence than when he had first crossed Sarakon's path, he believed in his strengths now and in himself. It would certainly make for an interesting rematch.
Despite sensing his spirit already, Sarakon was still somewhat surprised to see the holy youth alive. His recollection of their battle was a little fuzzy but he distinctly remembered killing the boy, yet here he stood, with the audacity to point his finger at Sarakon and speak to him not with respect, but with arrogance.
“Let them go and I will spare your life here and now”
Sarakon shook his head slightly with disbelief, immediately his lips curled up into a smile. The laughter that followed made it clear the former King of Tarronia wasn't taking the boy's "offer" very seriously. For all his newfound confidence and power, he was still very much a child to Sarakon. The boy had done well in his life so far, but his life spanned a couple of decades at the very most, he still lacked experience. This time Sarakon would capitalise upon his advantages in power, knowledge and experience. In their previous battle he allowed himself to get caught up in Heretic's blood lust while slaughtering the fighters of the arena, This damn accursed sword, my greatest ally and enemy are one
and the same...Heretic. Such mistakes shall not be repeated, the man wields the sword, not the other way around, Piercing shrieks and laughter reverberated throughout Sarakon's mind, it seemed Heretic had been listening. It mattered not, it could shriek and laugh and show Sarakon as many visions as its power allowed, and still he would not give it that power over him again, he'd destroy the weapon before it ever came to that again.
“How ironic we should meet once again and in a place where you are not fit to enter. Illuminars Slayer vs Illuminars Successor. You thought that by ending the life of Illuminar you would cease and quell the faith? FOOL. Your corrupted nature and perverted quest for power ends. Shall I let you into a secret? You will die by the hands of Illuminars blood. Prepare YOURSELF”
He didn't entirely understand Rekka's words, but he listened enough to gather that the boy was an overly zealous little idiot, one of those the glorified the pathetic elf that had been in his thoughts earlier that day. It seemed to be too much of a coincidence that all these things should be related simply by chance, he wondered what ties it were that bound Rekka and Illuminar to himself and what other unseen elements there might be to this conundrum, but for now he would have to leave it as a mystery, more important matters required his immediate attention. Like the entire congregation evacuating the temple, it was too late to stop them and really Sarakon didn't care to try, sooner or later each and every being from all the realms would meet their judgement at his blade.
The silence after Rekka's speech was rather anticlimactic, for all his big words there was no action to back them up.
The armoured figure paced around the tiled floor, carelessly striding over all sorts of murals and mosaics that depicted holy knights and martyrs of light, particularly Illuminar Arden. One of the many murals depicted his suffering and entrance into martyrdom, his jaw being torn away by a serpent like creature of shadows; the artist obviously hadn't done much research.
Casually he strolled past one of the six pillars in the temple, returning his gaze to Rekka after the pillar had passed between them,
"Rekka, you know as well as I do that you have no place to call me a fool. Do not forget that neither of us left the field unscathed last time, remember that before you get ****y oh righteous one." He paused for a second to lean against the pillar he'd just passed, his weight supported by his left hand while he still held Heretic loosely and maintained eye contact with Rekka.
"If it's not too much trouble, would you care to let me in on that secret again? I missed it the first time while trying to filter out all the zealous **** you were talking...tell me, don't you too find it odd that we and Iluminar all seem tied together in someway? Perhaps I'm just being paranoid, not that it matters anyway."
He leant in to the pillar for a second before snapping his left arm out and pushing himself off of it, using the momentum to spin, arcing Heretic's blade round towards the pillar. Screams erupted forth from those tainted souls, as Heretic's metal bit through the blessed stone column with ease. Sarakon placed Heretic upon his back once more and continued to spin, twisting at the waist to shift weight and maintain momentum. His muscles strained as he whipped his leg round and ended his motion with a powerful kick that landed solidly on the pillar, above the incision he had made.
The pillar shifted and only slightly, a few inches at the most. Sarakon smirked and spoke again,
"You know the most damage I did to Illuminar was in dropping a building on him, if you're so intent on being him we should do this the right way"
With that said he turned sharply, his attention once more on the pillar and his energies being channelled into his right hand, each knuckle a focal point for his power. A right hook made short work of the lower section of the pillar; his arm followed through after the initial impact cracked through the stone and sent a cloud of white dust billowing out.
The pillar twisted and tumbled about its base, before toppling over, narrowly missing Sarakon as it crashed to the ground and sent out a huge cloud of dust that masked the array of temple furniture and ornaments it had just crushed.
The delicate balance in the structure of the temple was lost, the walls and ceilings creaked, straining to stay together as the huge mass shifted under this disturbance. Cracks formed and grew, dust and rocks rained down from above them both, bouncing and rolling across the floor. The detailed murals began to disappear under the dust and rocks and the walls began to bend inwards, the ceiling began to droop down, to the left Sarakon heard another pillar fall.
He looked up to see the many tonnes of weight that would soon come crashing down on them both, it looked like quite a suicidal move now, but the Dark Knight still smiled, a knowing smile.
[ooc- meh]
Last edited by Lennon Legend : 01.09.04 at 22:57:55.
The crumbling stone that was falling towards the ground and repeatedly pounding the shield that had surrounded Rekka was having its impact. The stone that had once been erected in place to house a Temple dedicated to light was now being plunged into darkness. Collapsing inwards around both Sarakon and Rekka, it signified the battle between the two- not just of the strength they had, but also their will and conviction. It was Sarakons strength that had brought the, albeit weak, structure to fall around them. Yet it was Rekkas will, encapsulated in his shield, that was holding off the seemingly inevitable at bay. The marble floor below Rekkas body shifted. It too was bearing the brunt of being continually pounded upon by the falling stone. Plumes of smoke rose where rock met the floor as it broke. As if this didn’t obscure Rekkas view enough, he could feel blood oozing from his forehead down his right eye, down his cheek and dropping upon the floor. Ironically it fell upon the pool of blood that had formed from the various injuries Rekka had sustained as he had hurriedly erected the shield to cushion the blow, for a while, of the falling ceiling. Rekka was still half kneeling upon the floor, with his right leg, bent at the knee on the floor supporting him as both his hands grasped Vaporil in front of him. Rekka was holding Vaporil with the hilt of the blade in the air and the blade itself pointing towards the ground- with the tip entrenched in a visible crack that had formed in the floor. It provided the ideal place for support too but worried Rekka. He knew that it would not be long before a gaping wound in the earth would be formed. Yet it was the gaping wound that was blatantly visible on his left leg. His left knee was in the air with his foot firmly planted on the floor. A mixture of minute stone, rubble, flesh and blood had pooled in the lowest part of Rekkas thigh, which had bore the brunt of the rock as it fell on a downwards tangent to the place it resided at Rekkas feet now. It had pooled because of the way Rekkas left leg was positioned. It had ripped and mangled flesh, revealing bone. The shock of this made Rekkas nervous system out of kilter. Blood had coursed through his body much faster than usual, trying to somehow replace that which had been lost, culminating in the thick jet of dark crimson liquid spraying from the top of his left knee, lower thigh. It had stained the floor of the Temple and Rekka had left a mark that wasn’t quite the impact he had had in mind. The shattering of the stain glass windows which were forced out of their place be the collapsing church, almost seemed to depict in Rekkas mind the fragility of humanity. In the various pictures in the glass were significant moments of history, great battles and famous people. In a few moments Rekka knew this place would be no more:
What will future generations learn if there is nothing to teach and learn from? How can people aspire to be without the guidance that can be sought from seeking out the past isn’t there?
All that Rekka held sacred would be lost if Sarakon triumphed on this day. There were other Temples but not one so highly sacred and tantamount to the faith that people so passionately believed in. Rekka knew he had to perform to the abilities he had aspired to in the Coliseum. He had been young and naïve that day yet had managed to survive an encounter with the foe before him. He was now stronger and believed in his inner strength. His untapped power had become awakened. Even if the Temple fell and were reduced to rubble, which in all likelihood would occur, a new Temple could be reborn in its exact place- if Rekka prevailed. Sarakon would undoubtedly obliterate the immediate landscape of all traces of this place. Rekka tightly gripped the handle of Vaporil and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling through his nose as he summoned the courage to stand once more. The shattering of glass, the crumbling of stone and marble and the failing strength of the shield that cushioned the blows of falling rubble resounded in his ear drums, heightening the realisation that Rekka would have to act now. As Rekka concentrated, he felt awash with the feel of invigoration. The pain that had blighted him so much on his left knee had lessened. He felt as if he was drawing on the holy aura that had once resided in the collapsing walls. Rekka realised the reason that Sarakon had acted upon collapsing the Temple. It was a source of strength, not just metaphorically but also physically:
An animal is most vicious after a severe injury.
Sarakon had unwittingly provided Rekka with a sense of empowerment. Rekka had remembered how Sarakon had healed a gaping wound in the Coliseum with his mere mindpower- drawing on the malicious environment of the arena, a place of Death. A smile broke on the face of Rekka, despite what he surveyed:
You’re on my turf now Sarakon.
Somewhat amazingly Rekka unclenched his hands from Vaporil, the source of so much power, and took a step back, returning to an upright standing position. His feet seemed to glide in position due to the blood on the floor, yet this did not deter Rekka from his somewhat bolder exterior. The shield vanished, its job completed as only dust and small pieces of rubble now fell. Rekka tilted his head back and saw the sky above- strangely it seemed a welcome sight. A slight breeze funnelled down upon Rekka and toyed with his hair and clothes, almost billowing. The refreshing wind renewed Rekka, as he clenched both of his fists as his arms lay either side of him. With an almost coquettish touch, he cracked the knuckles on his right hand:
Sarakon I see also uses a sword with such magnificent strength within it
This thought came to Rekkas mind as he saw Sarakons own ‘defence’ against the danger and peril of standing within a collapsing Temple. Rekka had to admire the agility of such an awesome figure. Sarakon it seemed had ascended above the falling masses of rubble, although injuring himself. Remaining columns began falling and teetering to and fro, holding parts of the wall and ceiling perilously in place. As his foe burst through the collapsing ceiling, Rekka knew that the many years of the landmark Temple were coming to an end in a few seconds. Huge blocks bowed to gravity and plummeted to earth, a column fell too and as it impacted upon the floor, it sent a shockwave towards Rekka. The gaping wound in the floor became bigger- as if the earth was forming a mouth, a cry of pain at the total disregard that such a being as Sarakon had against Nature. Vaporil wavered at the shockwaves too, as it stood resolutely steadfast in its position:
It is too late to save the Temple and for that I am sorry. Yet for every Sarakon, there is a Rekka. Though he may destroy buildings, he cannot change my will and convictions. Our standpoints are different and because of this I will meet him face to face. He leaves destruction and fear in his wake. He will never stop unless he is challenged.
Rekka was unconcerned with the collapsing Temple. His side of the Temple had already fell in on itself and he had survived, albeit with the help of magic. He looked on in sadness as the last fragments of the temple plummeted and crashed upon the floor, sending a wisp of cloud and powder into the air. Fortunately, the now open environment mingled with this view obscuring nuisance and the wind swirled around the debris, blowing the smoke away. Rekka looked at a small piece of broken stain glass that lay among the debris. It depicted a scene that Rekka could not remember learning of. It was of two figures locked in combat, as the world crumbled around them. Rekka looked up, becoming more aware of his surroundings, now that the cloud of smoke had begun to disappear, a shadowy figure loomed ominously. Rekkas eyes fell once more on the piece of glass. Strangely it depicted the symbol of a sun in full bloom. Rekkas face contorted somewhat in sheer shock and surprise. He shook his head in astonishment and thought nothing more of it:
I must have imagined it. I will concern myself with it at a later date.
He composed himself and returned to the figure that obscured his path. As he scanned in front of him, Vaporil was itching to be gripped once more as it had remained in its position in the ground, then there was the debris of the Temple, with the widening gap that had been created in the earth. Layers of rubble and strewn debris lay all around Rekka and blotted the topography of the land. Sarakon lay in wait on the other side.
Anger welled up inside of him. Forgetting his training for a second, Rekka began to break into a run- to reclaim his sword. Instantly, a sharp pain reverberated around his mind, stopping him in his tracks. Tens, thousands of voices streamed in his mind, signifying all the people that had passed through the doors of the Temple. Screams of agony were mixed with prayers of hope and faith. Rekka brought his right hand to the side of his head, gripping tightly with his fingers, as the pain became unbearable. He felt himself doubling over. He made the palms of both of his right and left hands cover his respective left and right ears, as if it would somehow stop the pain. Visions of past, not of his, but of significant events in the history of Illuminar, the Temple and the faith flooded his mind- making them his memories. The countless voices stopped, the pain resided and Rekka was left a single voice that lingered with him. The voice was familiar:
What has happened here had been destined to occur since the day you were born. You do not need a Temple to signify your strength. Avenge what the Abomination has done with the power that you have always had.
The stain glass that littered the landscape and were mingled with the debris emitted a white hue that brightened and hummed in the air. Suddenly light beamed out from the pieces, absorbing and erasing that pictures that they had once contained and swirled around in the ether around Rekka, as if questioning whether this figure was worthy. Rekka closed his eyes expecting the worst. Instantaneously, the beams arched towards Rekka from all angles, passing through him many times, filling him with the knowledge, power and strength of the Temple, Illuminar and awakening Rekkas inner qualities. It was as if Rekka was becoming as powerful as the one that stood in his way now. As the beams passed through him, the visions that were on the glass windows flashed through his mind. It did not cause any pain this time. The spirits of the dead- their values, beliefs- would linger on in Rekka.
Rekkas eyes opened, with fire dancing in his iris. His eyes flashed with the same confidence one comfortable with his own abilities has. He extended his right arm towards Vaporil, and gritted his teeth. He outstretched his four fingers and thumb on his right hand as if he was straining to do something. In his mind, he pictured Vaporil returning to his hands. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep concentration. He heard Vaporil waver in its entrenched position in the ground, yet there was no wind around him. Vaporil was violently shaking now. Rekkas eyes opened and he saw the veins on his right hand near the surface of his skin, his neck also showing the same signs, as veins bulged. His right hand began to shake with the stress of what was occurring. Sparks flew around the hilt of Vaporil as it became dislodged from its place. It unerringly flew through the air and looked to be returning to its master’s hands. Just as it seemed it would, Rekka broke his concentration. The strain was unbearable and Vaporil landed at his feet instead. Rekka let out a huge breath of exhaustion:
What’s going on? How am I able to do this? What else is possible?
He bent down and brought Vaporil to his eyes, with the hilt near his eyes, and the blade pointing skywards. He composed himself as he began to try and comprehend what had just occurred:
SARAKON
Rekka screamed in a voice that resounded around him and with a greater emphasis than it ever had done before. He let go of Vaporil with his left hand and wielded Vaporil with his right almost effortlessly. He arched the blade right handed from in front of his eyes diagonally to his right hand side, pointing beside him:
"No longer am I the naïve young samurai you met at the Coliseum. You have destroyed this temple but you will not destroy or break me. ‘Til the worlds end, whatever dimension I will hunt you down and challenge you. Show your true self to me this day…do not hold back."
Rekka watched the landscape around him. Sarakon would respond. He would be ready.
Linear Mode
