The Barren King

Jealousy..
Anger..
Hatred..

She had betrayed him, Imperial had made him an outcast. These emotions filled Kent's
heart as he trudged through the dark, rainy, woods. His mud-caked boots splashed
through puddles as he made his way. Throughout his life he had beamed confidence,
head always up. His friends gone, he felt barren. Now his gait had a halt to it, his
steps heavy and his eyes gazing at the ground. The trees became sparse, it gradually
brightened as he neared the treeline.

Kent noticed a change immediately, he lifted his head. A lone figure in the distance
rode a pale horse. Kent squinted, the rain grew in intensity. The rider turned in
his direction, urged his mount forward. Kent sighed, waiting.

Tekstone..

That onyx robe that managed to have an eerie white glow..even in the dense rain it
was impossible to miss. Kent straightened his back as the priest neared him,
reaching his full height and his shoulders spreading. Even in his dirty white robe,
he was an imposing sight. The Tekstone dismounted, Kent brushed his long bangs
behind his ear.

"Kneel and praise Dennac or die, weakling," spat the dark priest. Kent stood there,
staring at him with a sad, bored look upon his unshaven face. Memories of past
battles flooded through his mind, he knew how he was going to handle this arrogant
stranger.

An empowered scepter swung at Kent's head, he leaned back calmly, watched the
movement of its shaft and grabbed it with his left hand. He pulled down, hard. Kent
fell to the ground, in complete control. Landing on his right arm, his bicep
bulging, he continued the motion, planted his muddy boot into the tekstone's stomach
and used the gathered momentum to heave him into the air.

That tattoo.. It was only as he was flying above the tall grass that he realized his
mistake, he had challenged the King of Hearts, Kent Strider. Slam. The priest's back
made a sickening sound as he smashed into the ground, he had landed on an apple-
sized rock. Kent looked up at the sky as he waited for him to stand, the black
scepter's dark gift burning his hand. Pain..he felt it, but couldn't muster the
ability to care.

He turned to the dark priest, facing the rain now and having to blink occasionally.
A pain entered Kent's mind, he heard the constant piercing noise that reminded so
much a headache. Only this pain came with a deep, twisted voice.

Kill the unworthy. I want him to suffer for being so weak. Do it. Tear off his head
so I can hear every last vein, muscle, and bone pull apart so slowly..

"Shut up," Kent muttered as he held the side of his head with his right hand. The
tekstone charged, Kent grumbled and dropped the scepter, prefering to beat him to
death with his fists. He jabbed with his left, Kent swayed from it, bended his
knees, rotated his torso and backhanded him with such intensity that two teeth flew
from his mouth. Before he could drop, Kent snatched the neck of his robe.

And now he beat his face to a bloody pulp, blood spraying from his face, crimson
drops floating in the air for a brief instant, before being destroyed by the
countless raindrops. The poor man's blue eyes began to roll, Kent decided to end it.
He released his robe, let him drop. Then he yanked up his legs, placed them on his
shoulders, and finally plummeted to the hard ground in a viciously-angled powerbomb.
His spine snapped quite audibly, the back of his skull went smoosh and blood
spattered the grass.

Standing up, Kent sighed once more, truly bored.

Kent Strider.. You've seen what every religion is like, you know they all turn on
you eventually.. I am no merciful god, the weak get punished.. But the strong.. You,
I will not hesitate to give you a taste of true power. Swear that your soul belongs
to me for all eternity. You'll only regret it if you fail me.

He looked up at the sky, eyes wide open, taking every last drop that splashed
against his cornea. I'm so sad..and I have no tears. Vision blurry, he flexed his
right hand, stared at his magnificient tattoo and said in a flat tone, "Whatever,
I'm yours." Kent screamed the next moment, he thought he had known pain, every last
cut, bruise and break in his lifetime had been blissful ignorance compared to now.

His blue irises almost vanished, his pupils went wide, giving them the appearance of
black eyes. Kent's throat was already raw, but it seemed like paradise, every fiber
of his being felt like it was stretching, shrinking, breaking. Arms at his sides,
every muscle tense and flexed, he fell silent. Those fives seconds had felt like
hours.

You're less than human now..your old body wouldn't have been able to endure this
power.. Kent? I hope it fucking hurt. Now go and spread my glorious chaos.