He breathed heavily.
In his hand, beaming, glittering he weighed the blade. It was light. So very light, despite the blood clinging to it.
The battle had lasted long. He had lost count of how many he had slain. Those with and without hearts, who had tortured and killed his friends. They had caused so much suffering in his heart, making way for scorching anger, blazing pain and smouldering hate. There was no more room for innocence.
He had not been able to protect his friends.
The blade had been light, light as it had hurtled down on his enemies. Through his enemies.
Cutting new paths into ravaging madness...
He had wanted to see them suffer.
...passion turning to rage...
He had wanted them to die.
...ringing with the sound of fatality as his adversaries, those who still could, screamed in fear...
One by one he had wanted them to pay for what they had done.
...echoing through his being and vibrating to the very tips of his weapon, a mere extension of his revenge on them.
With every body he left broken behind him, a part of his purity was shattered. With every bone he broke, he fissured his soul. With every face he disfigured, he would lose more of who he was.
And then, finally, when there had been nothing left of him, he and the key had become one as they had never been and in the swirls of red he had felt the rise of a new and terrifying power his weapon communicated to him. A power that encompassed his body and reached down to the very depths of his heart, being nourished by his fractured feelings.
And then it had awoken destruction.
Instantly, he felt a moment of fear. Of utter wrongness. But it was already too late. Through the will of its bearer, the radiant benevolence of the key had faded away to reveal the darkness that lay deeply crafted within the blade itself.
In a fiery screeching of unspeakable agony a force had been unleashed beyond his control, and hearing but the singing of his weapon in his ears, matching the rhythmic pulsating pain of his strained muscles he unleashed the wave of annihilation.
Every body still left disintegrated.
Every heart still unscathed vanished completely.
Every speck of life in this world was extinguished forever.
Only wasteland remained.
His blade was light, but his heart was dragged down with heaviness. For in a moment of hatred and weakness through its will he had wrought a destruction he had never wanted. A destruction that could not heal the pain nor bring back his friends he had lost. And yet he knew that now the darkest core of the Keyblade was released there would be no turning back.
He merited the name of the Chose One no longer.
And over his dirty and blood stained face a single tear made its way to fall on a devastated ground.
Hooray for angst.
My tribute to Kingdom Hearts II. I have to say that I dont love
the game as such, but it is certainly entertaining. At the time I started this (last September) I didnt even have the game (it wasnt out in Europe yet), but there already were these screenshot of KH III on the net. And especially this screenshot --> [link]
and the rumours of that being Sora - it was all too inspiring. I just had to draw a grownup Sora!
I started a small digital sketch just for fun --> [link]
which sat on my computer for a good long while until I suddenly decided to colour it and add some... well... more story and depth to it.
I like it how this turned out. This is how I wish Sora would be like it KHIII. Even though him growing up is about just as likely as him being blood stained, as KH probably will remain a franchise for a young kind of audience. "My" Sora is a Sora that has fallen from grace, a Sora with a darker personality - because lets face it, even though Sora isnt a complete dork like some other young and famous RPG main characters, he is nice up to the point where he should get slapped for it. Oh, and the destructive power of the keyblade refers to a remark made in the secret ending of KH II, in case you're wondering...
So there. Enjoy.
PS: Yeah, I know - the title isn't too great. But I couldn't think of anything else and like this it at least references to the title of the ending song. Meh.
PPS: I used fan fiction mode *orin
-style! I hope she forgives me for it, but I just love the little stories she writes to her pictures and read them religiously! So this is sort of a tribute.
PPPS: Wow... you actually read all this?