It had been thirteen years since Jin left this place. Thirteen years since this curse infected him. Still, even to this day, it looked no different as it did then. The ruined buildings of his old village still sat in silent snows. There were no footprints, no sign of life. Just the ruins of his past. That was all that was left.
Why did you come back here?
There might be something here telling of how we can get separated from each other.
The Bringer of Death scoffed, showing his disbelief in the Paragon's suggestion. Nonetheless, he walked forwards, approaching closer to the ruins. Little was left but foundations and scaffolds. There were no bodies. All the skeletons had decayed in these long years. Either that, or some hungry beast swooped in to grab a tasty treat. Jin sighed. He came here to look for something, anything, but he did not know what. Coming to the center of the ruined village, he closed his eyes as a memory flooded into his brain.
"No! You can't do this! Not to my baby!" a woman screamed.
"This is for the resurrection of our master!"
"We will not hesitate to strike you down!"
The woman cried, being held back by masked figures. A feeling of cold rushed across his back. Light began pouring into the sky as the masked figures began chanting. He looked around. They were everywhere, these masked figures. Holding back the unmasked. The colors were all faded, but he remembered a bright red on the man with the skull-faced mask. The light suddenly converged into his body. All of this felt familiar, somehow, but now he could not remember any feeling.
"He is back! Praise be!" the skull-faced one cried.
One moment, the skull-faced one had his arms outstretched to the heavens. The next, he was collapsed on the ground as a wave of red poured onto the white ground. An eerie silence flooded the village. Within seconds, the masked ones rushed at him. Tendrils of black pierced their way through the masked men as they collapsed to the earth. A wave of dark energy suddenly burst, and everyone dropped. Most were tumbled to the earth, but the screaming woman remained on her knees.
"You...you saved me. Come here, Jin. Come to mother."
He slowly walked towards the screaming woman. Tears ran down her face as she smiled. She embraced him in a hug, and a feeling of warmth spread over his body. She became cold as she, too, fell, her lifeblood spilling onto the ground from her pierced neck. A small boy emerged from a nearby house, curious. He stepped out, looking at the devastation. He, too, would join them as his house crumbled on top of him.
Jin opened his eyes. Was that a memory of my past?
Yes. You don't remember anything after the possession, and I remember nothing before the possession.
So...you caused the destruction?
The vessel was far from stable. I could not control myself.
Who were the masked men?
They were a cult devoted to me. They thought me a god or a demon or somesuch.
Aren't you?
No. I am not a demon, nor am I a god. A Slayer would have no more effect on me as they would any normal mortal.
Then what, exactly, are you?
The Bringer of Death laughed. I'm surprised it took this long for you to ask. I am simply the spirit of a once-living man. This was some five or six hundred years ago. I was a master of shadow magic. My own country was peaceful, a true heaven on earth. Death only occurred in the result of the body's failure due to age. There was no sickness. There was no disharmony. There was no crime. I, myself, subscribed to the pacifism of my land for a time. But, as all things are wont to do, life changed. I was not the first to kill another, nor was I the first to die. There was an outsider, a user of gravity magic. He came into our city and murdered my brother. It was an accident, he claimed. Him and my brother were close friends. My brother wanted to experience flight, and the outsider obliged. My brother did not know how to land. The elders and officials trusted his claim that it was an accident and gave him no more than a slap on the wrist. That was when I knew. My land was no heaven. It was merely a facade. I remember walking into the outsider's house. He was eating a light meal with his wife and his two young kids. I confronted him about the murder of my brother. Had he confessed, I would have spared him. Yet he didn't. He feigned ignorance, keeping the same story as he had told the others. "It was an accident! Your brother did not follow my magic's rules! He flew too high!" I was overcome by rage in that instant. I raised my hand, and an arrow of darkness, once merely used for hunting animals, had now taken a life. His family was shocked. I knew that they would turn me in, so I turned on them. By the time I was done, they were little more than heaps of dirt.
They were innocent! You didn't need to murder them! You could have forgiven the outsider! Anything!
No. This was a deeper rooted problem. I needed to make a change. That change needed to come from the top, so my next target was the elders. I struck them down much the same. They were too old to use magic to counter me. After they were dead, I rallied the people. We would no longer be held back by this false utopia. War raged in my country. Just a year prior, no one had been killed by another human. Now, thousands were dying by the day. Hundreds died by my own hands. My revolution was quashed, however. My inner circle, save for two others, were all killed in battle. Me and the last two were captured to be executed. The other two were executed, their last words being defiant cries for freedom. I would get no freedom. As punishment for my crimes, I was banished from life and death, left to wander the world as a loose spirit. Every so often, someone would do much the same as that cult did. They would embark the Spirit of the Revolutionary, the Bringer of Death, as I eventually became to be known, to another. This was much the same.
My country fell, even after my death. My service was done, but my mission was far from complete. More people took up my cause and struck down the leadership of my country. I was nowhere near as powerful as Zeref, don't ever think that. He would come by and do much more than I ever could. But I would like to think I was an inspiration to him.
That's not a good thing to be proud of.
The Bringer of Death laughed. The power certainly is, and you can't deny that. Anyways, there's nothing here. Nothing but memories.
As often as the Paragon disagreed with the Bringer of Death, this was not one of those times. He nodded, making his way back to the Phoenix Mountains and Silver Wolf.
WC: 1227
Why did you come back here?
There might be something here telling of how we can get separated from each other.
The Bringer of Death scoffed, showing his disbelief in the Paragon's suggestion. Nonetheless, he walked forwards, approaching closer to the ruins. Little was left but foundations and scaffolds. There were no bodies. All the skeletons had decayed in these long years. Either that, or some hungry beast swooped in to grab a tasty treat. Jin sighed. He came here to look for something, anything, but he did not know what. Coming to the center of the ruined village, he closed his eyes as a memory flooded into his brain.
"No! You can't do this! Not to my baby!" a woman screamed.
"This is for the resurrection of our master!"
"We will not hesitate to strike you down!"
The woman cried, being held back by masked figures. A feeling of cold rushed across his back. Light began pouring into the sky as the masked figures began chanting. He looked around. They were everywhere, these masked figures. Holding back the unmasked. The colors were all faded, but he remembered a bright red on the man with the skull-faced mask. The light suddenly converged into his body. All of this felt familiar, somehow, but now he could not remember any feeling.
"He is back! Praise be!" the skull-faced one cried.
One moment, the skull-faced one had his arms outstretched to the heavens. The next, he was collapsed on the ground as a wave of red poured onto the white ground. An eerie silence flooded the village. Within seconds, the masked ones rushed at him. Tendrils of black pierced their way through the masked men as they collapsed to the earth. A wave of dark energy suddenly burst, and everyone dropped. Most were tumbled to the earth, but the screaming woman remained on her knees.
"You...you saved me. Come here, Jin. Come to mother."
He slowly walked towards the screaming woman. Tears ran down her face as she smiled. She embraced him in a hug, and a feeling of warmth spread over his body. She became cold as she, too, fell, her lifeblood spilling onto the ground from her pierced neck. A small boy emerged from a nearby house, curious. He stepped out, looking at the devastation. He, too, would join them as his house crumbled on top of him.
Jin opened his eyes. Was that a memory of my past?
Yes. You don't remember anything after the possession, and I remember nothing before the possession.
So...you caused the destruction?
The vessel was far from stable. I could not control myself.
Who were the masked men?
They were a cult devoted to me. They thought me a god or a demon or somesuch.
Aren't you?
No. I am not a demon, nor am I a god. A Slayer would have no more effect on me as they would any normal mortal.
Then what, exactly, are you?
The Bringer of Death laughed. I'm surprised it took this long for you to ask. I am simply the spirit of a once-living man. This was some five or six hundred years ago. I was a master of shadow magic. My own country was peaceful, a true heaven on earth. Death only occurred in the result of the body's failure due to age. There was no sickness. There was no disharmony. There was no crime. I, myself, subscribed to the pacifism of my land for a time. But, as all things are wont to do, life changed. I was not the first to kill another, nor was I the first to die. There was an outsider, a user of gravity magic. He came into our city and murdered my brother. It was an accident, he claimed. Him and my brother were close friends. My brother wanted to experience flight, and the outsider obliged. My brother did not know how to land. The elders and officials trusted his claim that it was an accident and gave him no more than a slap on the wrist. That was when I knew. My land was no heaven. It was merely a facade. I remember walking into the outsider's house. He was eating a light meal with his wife and his two young kids. I confronted him about the murder of my brother. Had he confessed, I would have spared him. Yet he didn't. He feigned ignorance, keeping the same story as he had told the others. "It was an accident! Your brother did not follow my magic's rules! He flew too high!" I was overcome by rage in that instant. I raised my hand, and an arrow of darkness, once merely used for hunting animals, had now taken a life. His family was shocked. I knew that they would turn me in, so I turned on them. By the time I was done, they were little more than heaps of dirt.
They were innocent! You didn't need to murder them! You could have forgiven the outsider! Anything!
No. This was a deeper rooted problem. I needed to make a change. That change needed to come from the top, so my next target was the elders. I struck them down much the same. They were too old to use magic to counter me. After they were dead, I rallied the people. We would no longer be held back by this false utopia. War raged in my country. Just a year prior, no one had been killed by another human. Now, thousands were dying by the day. Hundreds died by my own hands. My revolution was quashed, however. My inner circle, save for two others, were all killed in battle. Me and the last two were captured to be executed. The other two were executed, their last words being defiant cries for freedom. I would get no freedom. As punishment for my crimes, I was banished from life and death, left to wander the world as a loose spirit. Every so often, someone would do much the same as that cult did. They would embark the Spirit of the Revolutionary, the Bringer of Death, as I eventually became to be known, to another. This was much the same.
My country fell, even after my death. My service was done, but my mission was far from complete. More people took up my cause and struck down the leadership of my country. I was nowhere near as powerful as Zeref, don't ever think that. He would come by and do much more than I ever could. But I would like to think I was an inspiration to him.
That's not a good thing to be proud of.
The Bringer of Death laughed. The power certainly is, and you can't deny that. Anyways, there's nothing here. Nothing but memories.
As often as the Paragon disagreed with the Bringer of Death, this was not one of those times. He nodded, making his way back to the Phoenix Mountains and Silver Wolf.
WC: 1227
