Haruto knows when he is finished. Since his brush with Oriko, he's been moving toward the city limits. Open skies or not, Dragon is coming. Haruto's head aches, pounding with the strange unreal feeling of the whip of Dragon's tail and Dragon's claws against his Underworld. He was his parent's hope, but he'd brought nothing but despair for as long as he'd been trapped in this city and its war, for both strangers and for the only person who actually knew him. He'd fought relying on Nitoh, but now, when the chips are down, he can only wait for him to catch up, and take the brunt of Haruto's biggest failure. That, in fact, is what is the most bitter pill to swallow.
He is glad for the stretches of silent dead space in the outer stretches of the city--finding an empty lot, dead as this city, and as the commune, is easy. Dirt as fine as sand grinds under his boots as he pulls a red ring from his pocket. He feels the pull on his mana as he activates the PlaMonster, and knows that it's only his time honing his weapon that has allowed him to cast a single spell since Dragon began going berserk.
"Find Nitoh," he says, "or Oriko, but Nitoh first."
Garuda departs, and Haruto turns to watch it fly away, rubbing his fingertips over the scrape still red across his right wrist, from his time in the past. As it turns a corner, Dragon's voice echoes his name so loudly he has to clap his palms to his ears. It hurts to breathe, a beat later, and he curls down immediately, bending his shoulders over his kneecaps and breathing shallowly. His magic is pushing at his skin, like he could burst like a balloon, and he knows Dragon is making his move.
'My strength gave you hope, and yet you did nothing but squander it on useless battles. A hope-protecting wizard indeed.'
Purple cracks Haruto can't see begin spreading slowly across his skin. A little boy wrapped in bandages begins to crack under Dragon's tail. Haruto cries out, wordlessly.
late morning on the third
He is glad for the stretches of silent dead space in the outer stretches of the city--finding an empty lot, dead as this city, and as the commune, is easy. Dirt as fine as sand grinds under his boots as he pulls a red ring from his pocket. He feels the pull on his mana as he activates the PlaMonster, and knows that it's only his time honing his weapon that has allowed him to cast a single spell since Dragon began going berserk.
"Find Nitoh," he says, "or Oriko, but Nitoh first."
Garuda departs, and Haruto turns to watch it fly away, rubbing his fingertips over the scrape still red across his right wrist, from his time in the past. As it turns a corner, Dragon's voice echoes his name so loudly he has to clap his palms to his ears. It hurts to breathe, a beat later, and he curls down immediately, bending his shoulders over his kneecaps and breathing shallowly. His magic is pushing at his skin, like he could burst like a balloon, and he knows Dragon is making his move.
'My strength gave you hope, and yet you did nothing but squander it on useless battles. A hope-protecting wizard indeed.'
Purple cracks Haruto can't see begin spreading slowly across his skin. A little boy wrapped in bandages begins to crack under Dragon's tail. Haruto cries out, wordlessly.