#fornini

fromis' chaeyoung for @shanbini HAPPY BIRTHDAY ERI! ♡

And some people thought this place was all about the gold.  They were wrong: It was all about the blood. Here there were oceans of the stuff, and bones, and tendons, and all manner of things to break and snap.  People screaming in agony, opponents larger than anything he had ever dreamed of.  And he dreamed BIG, this was exceeding already high expectations.  Even as a child he hadn't imagined such nightmares he would someday face.  Whats more: No one could have understood how he relished the thought. Early years at the monastery were boring, drab, grey in his mind.  It was the cold period of his life, a winter that he had endured until the day he made his attack.  Useless fools, all of them.  To teach so perfect an art only to waste it on 'self defense' and 'enlightenment.' He WAS enlightened.  Only through sheer, brutal combat could one attain that perfect harmony.  And even then it wasn't true harmony but an all-encompassing shroud of chaos.  Every second spent near death was real enlightenment, and every victory was another step higher. Lately Malis had been climbing a lot of steps. People were apprehensive at first, especially when he was announced as a monk.  What sort of monk put themselves through the arena?  And even then the very word made people cringe with visions of white-robbed old men with long bears and long winded phrases. Malis changed that the first fight, tearing his opponent's head clear from his shoulders.  And the day after that when he punched straight through a man's sternum and into his heart, they fell in love with him.  Every day he was fighting as if it were his last, he put more heart into the fights than any other. To them, he was some sort of wicked hero.  The reality was different, he just...needed a purpose.  This was all that fit him.  He knew from a young age what he was made for, and now years after burning that school, he could do it. Even then...he grew bored. "Am I going to have a single real fight this month?"  Malis snapped, pissed as he stormed back through the gate.  The crowd loved it but he was fuming.  The day prior he had slain a purple wurm just outside this very arena, and his new wurm-skin pants were the trophy.  From head to toe he was covered in blood, his black leather shining in the torchlight. "Do you hear me Galus?!  WHAT WAS THAT?" The pit manager wiped sweat from his face.  "You're too bloody powerful!  What am I supposed to do!?  Just yesterday you and two men killed a damn wurm right outside my home.  We just....don't have what you need Malis." The monk spat on the wall and walked past.  He went to his regular quarters, plain save for his bed and area designated for meditating and training.  He eat, slept, and breathed the arena.  But still he hungered for something more. His dreams were haunted by images, dancing just out of reach.  Battles unattainable by mortal men.  He could see demons...monsters, all manner of awful things that would make another man quake in fear.  But Malis? No.  He felt awe.  He wanted to trade blows with the giant corpses he saw stomping men flat.  To run rampant in a field of war, proving the fist and the body were as much a weapon as the blade and bow.  He knew it was more.  Damn the rules his monastery taught, he had found his own way this far- "There is much more I could teach you.  Boy." He balled a fist, sniffed the air.  That voice came from everywhere at once. "Show yourself and I'll make it quick."  The lights extinguished themselves and he braced for a fight.  Monks didn't need that when they felt the earth beneath their feet and the sound vibrate in the air. Still...it was like a void.  Had he left the Arena? "You are quite the killing machine."  The smooth voice spoke, and he felt as if the shadows churned around him, slithering like the inky depths of the sea. "Tell me something-" "You don't know?  Well I can read your mind like an open book, thats to start.  And I can see that dark dream you hold so closely to your heart." Malis stopped breathing.  What was this thing?  Why did he feel so claustrophobic now? "I know of a path, one which your soul even know yearns for."  The room was cold...freezing.  "As of now, you are but coal.  Rough, undefined.  Dirty." Malis went to scoff but his jaw was locked in place, and his eyes widened at the realization he couldn't move. "Magic is superior to all forms of combat Malis, get used to that.  But the road you walk?  Something that rivals magic.  Something that can make you more than just a fighter." The room burst into flames, he saw forever into a horizon of black fires, burning corpses that still writhed in agony.  Twisted grins on people burning themselves, lay prostrate before him, the letter 'M' glowing red in their flesh.  His own was ablaze but unharmed, horns shorn through his mortal flesh, and he felt... Whole. He then saw a creature more glorious than he had ever imagined.  Black wings on what he had thought a gravestone spread, red flesh the color of freshly spilled blood colored a muscular body that could only belong to a god. Golden horns, gleaming like the very coin he fought for in the arena shone upon a wicked visage, eyes white and peering deep into his soul.  A smile, slight, small, but perfect spread across its lips as it said his name in a voice like nothing he had ever imagined. "Malis." He was back in his room, sweating as he fell to his knees.  Before him stood a man....no. Tentacles twisted around a cigar, a black suit with perfectly tailored pinstripes running its length stared down with yellow eyes full of promise. "What was it?"  Malis breathed, his body feeling weak and inadequate when only hours before he thought himself a god. "That, would be your destined master.  The Lord of Hellfire, his grace Mephistopheles.  I do business with him.  Your destiny lies in hellfire and battle.  Fitting isn't it?" "What does that make you?"  He gave the creature a nervous look, and whatever passed as a smile on such a face happened to chance itself then and there. "My boy, that makes me your boss.  And your new best friend."