Actually, Ark. I think Tamir might have a different reaction than you might think.
Tamir: Than isn't better Than me! Hehehe!
Oh dear God, no! >.< He just made a really stupid pun! o_o
This will definitely not be the last massacre that Modello leaves behind, or his last mauling. I plan for more bloodshed.
"For some reason Modello and Alyssa remind me of Hohenheim and Dante from the Fullmetal Alchemist show... That sprang out at me from the first bit they were in. Maybe it's just Modello's character design"
I honestly didn't think of it that way. XD I just thought: "Hmm, guy about to propose to girl, plague comes, and kills off girl, and now guy is cold and hates the world, but has a reason for living which is the reason for the story's title. o:" I didn't think of Dante and Hohenheim for this one.
And Dar3k, it's definitely okay to think that - because it's true! A lot of violence is on the way. And my hands just want to get writing it. I'm on the half way of Chapter 4 right now, and I can tell you that somebody's gonna die by an invisible killer.
That's one reason I refuse joining clans, sometimes they're more trouble than they're worth.
Well, my actual purpose of comin' here today, new chapter.
Enjoy.
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Chapter 3: The View of What's to Come
The world around Modello Mercer turned into a swirl of shadow. His eyes closed together like a curtain at the end of a play. The dark abyss swallowed the young man whole as he fell down deeper and deeper into the esophagus of the still duskiness. His wings broken, his left hand trying to reach out to salvation, he watches helpless as the world turned into shadow.
His body felt numb and limbless falling longer and longer from life to a cold reality. Slower and slower. His mind shut down. His ghostly - pale as death - left hand dropped down to his side lifeless. His fading green eyes shuffled frantically, scanning the world around him. But where there was blood and lifeless carcasses was shadow and darkness.
"What is going on," he mumbled in his head. "Is this...death? Am I dying? Finally?" The emerald green eyes that were born upon his face closed by his eyelid. The mask that concealed, hid his face from the world dissolved into sand, as well did his hat. Black dry sand rose up into the air like it was rescued by the rope of life.
He opened up his eyes like a rising sun. He glanced upon his left hand and as soon as his hand came face to face with his fleshy mask, it turned into dust as if the hands of time were taking every ounce of essence left in his body. Modello's expression didn't change at all, no reaction at all. He retained his emotionless disguise.
His eyelids silently close shut. He drew breath, passing into his nostrils and inflating his lungs with the oxygen of life. And as soon as he blows it out through his mouth as if he were playing a flute, his body began to disintegrate into dust.
His breath exhaled slowly, and soon with each passing millisecond, his body disappeared, following the time of his disintegrating breath. Slowly, but surely - his body turned into dust. Ten seconds passed of him pushing out his breath, and he was at the end. His body vanished, and now all that was left was his mind. But even that didn't last long. His mind, body, heart, and soul were now lost within the darkness.
Back in reality, Moriah had no idea what to do. She shook him to wake up, but as soon as she planted her hand on his chest, she felt nothing. Her eyes widened in shock. Without a second thought, her hands glowed mint green. "I've got to heal him," she stated to herself. "Otherwise, he's going to die."
The mage placed her hands upon the chest of Modello. Lighting up like a torch, Modello is wrapped in the embrace of the life giving energy. "If I work hard enough," she mumbled to herself. "I can bring him back, I-I can save him." Even she was doubtful of her abilities, she began doubting herself. "What if I don't save him?..."
But completely oblivious to what stared down upon her, a ghostly dark shadow glared down upon her. It's face concealed by a hood, but it's eyes glowed red like headlights on a car. Moriah felt something strange, she felt like she was being watched. She glanced up at where it was that the feeling was coming from. "Who's there?" she yelped.
But then a demonic laughter, like something that would come from the devil, roared from the shadow. "He will not interfere with my rebirth," said the shadow. "All I need to do is get rid of those who know of me."
Moriah shuffled her head left and right, looking for the murmurs that whispered into her ear. She wasn't sure - maybe it was the wind's silent whisper. Or maybe something more. The shadow turned to it's right and took a step away from the dying Modello. He then continued walking. And Moriah was able to hear the silent solo drum of footsteps.
The hooded apparition approached the shadow of a building. Moriah followed the footstep sounds like her own heartbeat. Her eyelids herd together, tightly as she tried to see anything. Once the figure entered the shadow that caped the dirt behind the building, the figure appeared silhouette.
She was able to see the hood that conceal it's face, the robe that cloaked it's body, and the piercing red eyes that glared fear into any man. She only saw it for a split second, for one heartbeat. The world seemed to freeze, milliseconds, seconds, minutes, it didn't matter. The young mage knew what she saw, and it was the true face of evil.
Saliva rolled down her esophagus and she shuffled her eyes left and right, frantically looking for the shadow. She could no longer see what she was being stared at, but this incredible shiver of fear raced down her spine faster than a lighting bolt.
To take her away from looking for the shadow, she felt a faint, soft, but lively bounce in Modello's chest. Moriah's eyes quickly turned back to Modello, and then the feeling of life jumped again. A smile grew on the corners of her cheeks, and her irises lit up like a lantern. "Thank Saradomin..." she mumbled to herself. She breathed a sigh of relief, but she knew that he wasn't out of the woods yet.
From the very pathway that lead into the main district of the city came the ever so elegant Richard. His hands concealed in his coat's pockets, glitter sparkles on his hair by the sun's light, dancing on his hair like a masquerade. An ever arrogant smile pullulated on his face.
The gentleman stepped over to Moriah, and she quickly glanced up to see who it was. When she saw that it was Richard, her glance turned into a deathly glare. A black look, indeed. "Well, I guess they ran off," he calmly stated. He places his left hand onto his chin and closed his eyes. "That's understandable, running in fear from the most elegant and powerful warrior in this land is a definite excuse, hehe..."
Moriah let out a breath of frustration, closed her eyes, and turned her attention back on Modello. "Would you just shut up for just a moment?" Moriah growled, her words ice cold.
Richard cracked his eyes open sluggishly, and his smile went down. His eyebrows rose up, touching the middle of his forehead. His skin folded back by the movement of his eyebrows, and he had an expression of uncertainty. "And what's the matter with our little princess," he questioned. "Can't save your boyfriend, hmm?"
And as soon as she heard him, her eyes glare right back up at Richard, giving him the devilish look of pure anger. "WHAT the hell are you talking about," she yelled, her voice echoing across the entire city. "He's a comrade for your information, I'm not just going to let him die!!!"
Richard folds his hands behind his head like he was under arrest. "Oh, yeah...I'm soooo sure."
"You're so lucky I've got to heal Modello, because," she continued. "I would punch the perfect right out of your face."
"Such an empty threat," he said. "I have noooo idea how to respond..." After that, Richard closed his eyes and bursts out in laughter.
Moriah grit her teeth in utter anger. She quickly stood to her feet and clenched her left hand into a fist like grabbing onto a handle. Without him realizing it, Moriah swings her fist right at his face, aiming dead center. Her fist cracked against the bridge of Richard's nose, so hard that the force blew winds in his face that seemed like the winds of a F-3 tornado.
Her fist right to his face sent him plunging to the ground like a falling tower. His body kisses the dirt in a swift thud. His pearl white teeth shown, grit in absolute dolor. Blood rushed out from his nostrils like a waterfall. It made contact with his five o'clock shadow and blended in with it. Faster than a lion, he threw his hands onto his nose. "Y-y-y-you," he shuddered, crawling away from Moriah. "Y-y-you...peasant...!"