No being—
Mortal or God—
Escapes the soul-crushing darkness of the Null.
And yet, they watched him erge from it.
Kain, the bastard son of Valtherion.
His new na was "Death," and Hell followed with him.
When the gods heard of this, they, even in all their gallantry... knew fear.
---
Kain moved. His sword dragged behind him like an afterthought, his steps as weak as his body had beco. Around him, corpses lay still in the wake of his wrath.
His dark hair, marred with crimson, clung stubbornly to his forehead.
The tallic stench exuding from the lifeless bodies was proof that even gods could bleed.
How many had he slain now?
He didn't care. His answer would always be the sa:
"Not enough."
Not enough to quench the vengeful flas within his soul.
Not enough to and their atrocities.
Not enough to...
"Kain, bastard son... have you no ability to learn?"
The voice cut through his thoughts. He stopped. The dragging screech of his sword ceased as he raised his head, his eyes eting the owner of the voice.
"Hmm, Celestial Orin," Kain muttered, referring to the figure floating in the distance, draped in coats of pure energy. "...And friends," he added, acknowledging the other celestials flanking him.
"Many years have passed since your impossible escape from the Null," Orin began, "and many more gods have fallen to you. Tell , Kain, do you yearn for oblivion?"
"What I yearn for... is retribution," Kain shot back.
"And have you not had it?" Orin's voice rose, and reality itself trembled. "How much more will you upset the balance of the universe? How many more gods will you slay before the gaping void in your heart is filled?"
Kain glanced at his left hand, his eyes tracing the red cloth wrapped tightly around it.
"Your words an nothing to . I will do what I must."
"No," Orin said, his piercing gaze eting the lifeless gray of Kain's eyes. "You will do what you are allowed, and we have allowed you far too much."
Orin raised his hand, pointing it at the bastard son.
Kain grinned, unfazed.
"Go ahead. Send back to the Null. It won't be long before I walk back out," he declared.
"You misunderstand." Orin shook his head. "You are beyond torture and punishnt. Now, your very existence shall be eradicated."
Suddenly, Orin's hand ignited with a white light, and Kain was just as quick. His sword rose in a flash, growing a thousand feet tall to shield him.
But the sword did not last a second.
The beam cleaved through it, and the searing light struck Kain.
For even gods, at the mont of contact, would cease to exist. Yet Kain stood, his feet digging into the ground as he scread—a cry of one having their existence brutally torn from reality.
And in that mont, the bastard son did sothing that unnerved even the celestials.
Even as the all-eradicating beam pressed against him, he took a step forward.
A celestial beside Orin raised a hand, streaks of white falling upon the battlefield. The slain gods stirred and were revived.
"NO!" Kain roared, taking another step.
However, monts after their resurrection, the gods realized their state and rushed at Kain with blinding fury.
Swords, spears, axes—divine weapons of all kinds—found Kain's flesh in an instant.
He was cut and impaled within seconds. Yet, from his gory, mangled form, still standing against the beam, he muttered words:
"This is not over. I swear it."
He clutched the red cloth in his left hand one final ti before his body was reduced to less than dust, his soul to nothing.
On that day, Kain, the God Slayer, the bastard son of Valtherion, who was nad "Death" for he could never know it... t his inescapable end.
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