#deitad

“Oho~ Such ambitious eyes. Those are truly the eyes of one who would sell the world to achieve their destiny. But what is your destiny, I wonder? What  is your dream?”

         ☓ –-- ·   Guts could name so many deaths, so many experiences, strifes and hardships he'd endured that were enough to heat his seething blood until it boiled from open flesh, but nothing, nothing stung his hardened heart harder than the held tongue of the falcon whom he wanted to scream at for answers; a reason. Something. The price that he would pay for daring to struggle on this long was a taunting quietude from what they hailed as their fifth God, and this bitter confusion was more tortuous than being surrounded by the echoing cries of his raiders' final moments and the monsters that would soon take their place. A furious roar blasted from his burning throat, one that sounded more monster than man. His stained skin flooded with open wounds screamed for mercy, each strand of muscle in his sculpt exerting and every vein bulging as his body's way of begging him to stop. He would keep pushing, writhing for freedom from monstrous jaws ensnaring him like a dying stray. In the midst of his madness, the hours that it would carry on, there was only one thing to cease the mercenary from tearing the rest of his own broken existence into shreds.        Snap. Guts was reduced into nothing but shaken silence after that daunting sound, using what little strength he had left to drag up his head and stare, uncaring of how much his lungs urged for breath for as long as each piece of familial bone gruesomely cracked beneath the bladed toes of a thing most would never believe was once human. His red-soaked features twitched and gritted to every break and burst, seized up his crooked spine as if something was eating him from the inside more viciously with each corpse that was mashed into the thickened paste coating the ground his knees had collapsed upon. The warrior's rattled gaze fell back to the falcon's feet as it marched closer toward the only human remains he could recognise. Was he. . . ?       “W-Wait--” The remains of. . .       “Don’t-- don’t you dare--”  The remains of. . . ! ! ! Nothing prepared him for the intense surge of starving adrenaline; that drunken rush that could only be exorcised by spilling the gore of this monster that dared masquerade beneath the guise of a man he once respected; had the nerve to call a comrade, his conqueror. Each sickly crack of bones resonated with Guts’ own painful humanity until there approached the moment that stole his wrath and pushed it over the edge, dragging it away and manifesting it into something more. Something savage deep within breathed its first vile breath of reddened smoke, crooked fangs laying themselves upon a jagged maw with hellishly glowing eyes that could terrify even the most hardened army, and the tormented anguish on the swordsman's face was rapidly sharpened to this snarling beast’s image. Over two-hundred pounds of uncontrolled rage came barreling towards the newly warped false angel, tearing in from all sides in the tenor of his fury that parted the mercenary with a piece of himself. Tendons and the fluid of what ran in his veins gushed from a phantom limb as he roared and raved without rhythm, but he didn't feel a thing, brandishing his last broken shred of hope in the form of a beaten blade lashing straight for that space within the demonoid's chest; to rip out his still-beating heart and crush it to throbbing mush.

but im the king shitposter and salt miner

i know and it was terrible

sin is only as ugly as the one confessing BOOM