02-15-2018, 08:02 PM
He threw everything he could. Lightning. Wind. Hail. Rain. Fog. Cold. Heat. Every single weather effect that he could think of, everything that would drive a person to death. He tried striking his opponent down with lightning, blasting her aside with wind, pelting her down with hail. Everything. He brought the wrath of the heavens down upon her and yet, after all that, she still stood, her lips still moving in a wordless chant, magic still swirling at her fingertips. And there he was, master of the weather, forced to the ground, knees digging into the dirt as he struggled to stand.
The chilling rain of his storm pelted against him, water washing into his numerous wounds, stinging him. Roaring winds rushed past him, flinging up dirt and mud, bending the long grass surrounding them, but somehow leaving both of them untouched. An unseasonable frost, somehow surviving the pouring range, had long since stopped creeping along the ground all around them. Little light penetrated through the thick, dark clouds in the sky. Most of their fight had been illuminated by the glow of her spells, the numerous flashes of lightning not only in the clouds, but also arcing to the ground. By now the storm that brought those frequent flashes was beginning to die, and now the battlefield was as dark as a bright winter’s night.
And just like his storm was beginning to fade, so too it felt like he was. There was nothing left the spirit of the weather could do. No matter how he willed his body, he just couldn’t rise up. Was it simply exhaustion? Could he simply not lift his limbs anymore? No. It didn’t feel like that. He’d fought until he couldn’t move anymore; until he started consuming his very body to cast his spells. Though his chest heaved with deep breaths, and his muscles screamed in their overexertion, he could still tell that this wasn’t like that. It was as though he simply couldn’t work up the willpower to move.
But that shouldn’t have been possible. He was the master of the weather, the terror of man! He infiltrated villages like a light breeze, joking, laughing, making friends. He was the master of faking emotion. The master of becoming emotion. There was no one out there with the master over their feelings that he had. If he wanted to be cheerful, he would become it! If he wanted to rage, then he would succumb to it! Even his willpower was bottomless! There was nothing that should have been able to force him to stop fighting save for death itself. Let alone something that made him lose his nerves like this.
And yet here he was, unable, unwilling to keep fighting this enemy. She hadn’t even completely crushed him; he still had energy, he could change the weather once more. And even past that, he could start eating up his body! He still had fuel, he could still fight until the bitter end. But it felt like he just couldn’t. He couldn’t work up the will to raise another fist at the black-cloaked enemy in front of him. And he knew exactly why.
This entire fight, he had no control over his emotions, that control he was so dearly proud of. He’d raged until that rage had been replaced by cheer he shouldn’t have had. Cheer morphed into sadness. Sadness into anxiety. Anxiety into apathy. All of that and back again. Every spell the mage in front of him cast had simply... tore his mental state asunder, forcing him to feel things he didn’t want to feel. Forcing him to even think things he didn’t want to think! She’d whispered her spells directly into his mind, and he knew of only one thing that could do such a thing. The impossible magics. Telepathy.
She had used the magic that no one had used before on him, that he’d rarely even seen people attempt. She deftly wielded spells that would have killed a lesser magician, throwing his emotions into a turmoil, planting terrible ideas in his mind. Hell, somehow she’d even managed to look into his mind, learn how he thought, see what he was going to do, all while somehow avoiding the paralysis that came with it. With those magics, she learned what he was feeling, and how to manipulate those feelings to her own goals, forcing him to play right into her hands.
There was nothing the spirit of the storms could have done. Every action he tried worked against him. Whenever he attacked, it was because she had guided him to do so, knowing exactly how to counter it. When he defended, it was because she knew where his openings were, and how to work against it. She read every single storm he summoned as though she were him. Even though he was the one directing the winds to his whims, she knew how they would blow. When the fog rolled in, she knew exactly where he was anyway. Hell, if the hail he’d summoned hadn’t been so indiscriminate, he was certain she’d have found a way to work against it.
All this because of the impossible magics she wielded. Telepathy. There was no doubt in his mind. The mage in front of him was the undisputed master of emotional magics, to a degree none could ever hope to close in on. Merlin. The terror of mankind that not even the weather could become. Unstoppable, unassailable, unreadable. He couldn’t help but be in awe of her sheer power. It may not have been pure, physical strength, the sort of thing that could move any obstacle in her way. Nor was it a natural, raging strength, the kind that would bend even mighty trees to her whim. But it was still strength nonetheless. Anything that could feel, anything that could think, would be forced to bow to her. And there was nothing they could do about it.
The spirit of storms smiled at Merlin, humbled. It had been far too long since he’d been in a fight like this. He couldn’t say that he liked it. Not at all. But nevertheless, it was strangely exhilarating. He had never been humbled like this before, and he doubted he would be in the future, either. A true, once-in-a-lifetime experience, even for someone ageless like him. Here he was, nature’s wrath given physical form, shoved into the dirt by possibly the greatest magician to ever exist. He wasn’t a medium, he couldn’t tell what the future would hold, for him or for her, but he could still tell true power when he saw it. And that right there, a pure, unmatched strength packed into a frame no larger than 5’2” and 105 lbs, and hidden behind a dark cloak, was true power. He almost felt honored to have been bested by such a girl. If only it weren’t for the fact that he was probably about to die. That tended to put a damper on things....
“Well, it’s done...” The spirit of weather panted, doing his best to raise his voice above the raging winds, his chest heaving with deep breaths. There wasn’t a single ounce of fight left within him. For a brief moment, he let those winds touch him, blasting his grey hair back and out of his eyes, just so he could look at his opponent properly. “You’ve bested the weather itself. What next?” His green/grey eyes scoured her face, trying to get a read on her expression. She remained just as serious and unamused as ever. He sort of expected that. There weren’t all that many people who would be cheerful after such a battle. It was a bittersweet victory for her. She couldn’t save the village he had just razed, after all.
Without a single word, she raised a hand towards him, and just like that he could feel magic stirring in the air. This was it. This was where he was going to die. He didn’t show a single sign of fear on his face, simply kneeling there stoically, though he could still feel it stirring in his heart. One thousand years of terror and destruction, all wrought in the name of the weather itself, for he was the weather itself. And now it was all about to come to an end, all from a girl who could have been no older than twenty. A true prodigy. Well, at least if he was dying, it was at the hands of someone cute....
It took longer than he thought for her to put the spell together. The spell that would tear him apart. For who knew how long, he simply stared at the soft palm of the one who would end him, invisible magics rending apart the air in front of her hand, slowly stirring and gathering. He could feel the strength of that attack growing. It was one hell of a spell she was putting together. Was she going for maximum torment or something? Trying to let the fear set in? He couldn’t tell. The only expression Merlin wore on her face was neutral. This was the expression of someone putting a feral animal out of their misery. He would feel insulted, if only he hadn’t been so impressed.
Finally, her spell hit. No flash, no flare, just like the rest of them. Suddenly he simply felt his body trying to pull itself apart. Agony ripped through him, his very being straining, threatening to become completely undone, as though everything down his consciousness itself was trying to tear itself asunder. Every muscle, every molecule, every atom felt like it was trying to escape him. There was no part of his being that didn’t want to be somewhere else. So that was how she wanted to end him, complete annihilation!
Even in spite of all his amazing willpower, a scream escaped the spirit of the weather. He couldn’t help it, the pain was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Everything was trying to escape him. Everything. Everything. Everything! His arms, his fingers, his body, his brain, his thoughts, his memories, his existence, his life, his death! Everything! Things he didn’t even know could hurt were in agony. Happiness hurt! Pain itself hurt! All the agony he felt, he felt twice over!
And suddenly everything snapped apart. His consciousness rebounded into him, and his head snapped back as though slapped by an elastic tether. The spirit fell backward, mud splashing as he sank into it, and he found himself blankly staring into the grey sky above, rain pattering against his face. Something felt... off....
Mixed emotions surged through his chest.
He breathed in slowly, tranquility seeping through him.
A tumultuous storm enveloped him.
Was this what the light of a perfect summer day felt like?
Anyone who stood in his way would be crushed.
Calm. Dangerous. Something to be enjoyed but not chanced.
Simultaneously, two people sat up from the ground, frozen mud staining their backs. They looked absolutely identical in every respect, and yet something seemed vaguely different about them. As if on a cue, the two seemed to notice each other out of their peripheries, and they turned. Two heads recoiled simultaneously, one with a baffled, angry look on its face, the other peering curiously. For a few seconds, they simply stared, each closely studying the other. In concert, they turned, heads swiveling at the same pace as they brought their attention to Merlin.
“What the fuck did you do!?”
“What did you do?”
Two voices spoke simultaneously, one polite and one enraged. Though one tensed up, ready to spring, neither of them moved from where they sat on the cold, rain-soaked ground. Whatever spell the young magician had cast to make them stay in place still seemed to be working, in spite of whatever new thing she had wrought upon them. She pulled her hood and cloak closer to her, the fabric hanging limply around her small frame, completely unaffected by the raging storm. She stared at the two with deep green eyes, trying to hide from the rain pouring down over the moor.
“I know not what consequences would arise from killing the weather.” Merlin’s voice was soft and monotonous. Even though it was so quiet, he could still hear her clearly over the pouring rain, the raging winds, the distant cracks of thunder. Those were the first words he had heard her speak. She hadn’t made one little noise before she jumped him, and at most, he’d heard a few grunts of pain during the hail he’d summoned. She was truly a ‘quiet’ one. “Thus, I simply tore you apart. You should not be able to wreak havoc anymore.”
“What do you mean ‘Tore me apart!?’”
“What do you mean ‘Tore me apart?’”
The same sentence spoken twice simultaneously, but in two different intonations. Calm and furious. The small girl looming over their kneeling forms shifted slightly on her feet, her face as placid as ever. If she was at all intimidated by the fury in one of their voices, she didn’t show it.
“Exactly what it implies. Storm and Clear Sky. Arashi and Kaisei...” she spoke the names awkwardly, clearly not knowing the language, but obviously gleaning what she could from their minds. “You are two now. Do with that what you will.”
With that said, Merlin’s business was done. She spun away from the two without fanfare, pulling her hood over her face as she turned into the rain. Her dark cloak wrapped around her tightly, guided by her magic, and she strode away nonchalantly, walking into the roaring winds as though they were nothing, sure-footed even as icy mud splashed and slid away beneath her boots.
“Wait!” One of them demanding, throwing himself forward just as the spell sapping them of all motivation ended. His hand clamped onto the back of her cloak with an iron grip, and the magician was forced to stop in her tracks, though still, she did not turn to face them. Even with their overwhelming strength threatening to sneak up from behind, she seemed thoroughly unconcerned. “Why are you letting me live!?” Though they were the words of one half, he was speaking for both of them. “Either kill me or bind me to your will! That’s how it’s supposed to go when you defeat a monster like me! Not whatever mockery this is! Give me something honorable at least!”
Merlin stood silently for a few seconds, eerily still amidst the raging winds. She didn’t give the slightest hint of a response until.... “I already told you, I know not what would arise from slaying the weather itself. Thus I shall not chance it.” Her tone was just as monotonous as ever, in spite of the human monstrosity clinging to her outfit. “Additionally, you offer me nothing I don’t already have. Thus, I shall not bind you.”
The spirit’s grip faltered, his heart shattering. Both of their jaws fell open, and just like that, Merlin effortlessly wrested herself free from his grip and continued into the storm, unperturbed.
What?
There was nothing he could offer her? Him? Nothing? The powerful, indomitable spirit of the weather itself couldn’t offer anything to some two-bit human mage that she didn’t already have? One half clenched his teeth, falling to his hands and knees, staring in rage at the flooding ground beneath him. Nothing!? The air seemed to stir around him for a moment, the unmistakable feeling of electrical brilliance building in the up as he rose to face the magician.
“Don’t!” The other half called out, springing to his feet far too late. Lightning flashed once more, and blackness consumed the two of them.
The chilling rain of his storm pelted against him, water washing into his numerous wounds, stinging him. Roaring winds rushed past him, flinging up dirt and mud, bending the long grass surrounding them, but somehow leaving both of them untouched. An unseasonable frost, somehow surviving the pouring range, had long since stopped creeping along the ground all around them. Little light penetrated through the thick, dark clouds in the sky. Most of their fight had been illuminated by the glow of her spells, the numerous flashes of lightning not only in the clouds, but also arcing to the ground. By now the storm that brought those frequent flashes was beginning to die, and now the battlefield was as dark as a bright winter’s night.
And just like his storm was beginning to fade, so too it felt like he was. There was nothing left the spirit of the weather could do. No matter how he willed his body, he just couldn’t rise up. Was it simply exhaustion? Could he simply not lift his limbs anymore? No. It didn’t feel like that. He’d fought until he couldn’t move anymore; until he started consuming his very body to cast his spells. Though his chest heaved with deep breaths, and his muscles screamed in their overexertion, he could still tell that this wasn’t like that. It was as though he simply couldn’t work up the willpower to move.
But that shouldn’t have been possible. He was the master of the weather, the terror of man! He infiltrated villages like a light breeze, joking, laughing, making friends. He was the master of faking emotion. The master of becoming emotion. There was no one out there with the master over their feelings that he had. If he wanted to be cheerful, he would become it! If he wanted to rage, then he would succumb to it! Even his willpower was bottomless! There was nothing that should have been able to force him to stop fighting save for death itself. Let alone something that made him lose his nerves like this.
And yet here he was, unable, unwilling to keep fighting this enemy. She hadn’t even completely crushed him; he still had energy, he could change the weather once more. And even past that, he could start eating up his body! He still had fuel, he could still fight until the bitter end. But it felt like he just couldn’t. He couldn’t work up the will to raise another fist at the black-cloaked enemy in front of him. And he knew exactly why.
This entire fight, he had no control over his emotions, that control he was so dearly proud of. He’d raged until that rage had been replaced by cheer he shouldn’t have had. Cheer morphed into sadness. Sadness into anxiety. Anxiety into apathy. All of that and back again. Every spell the mage in front of him cast had simply... tore his mental state asunder, forcing him to feel things he didn’t want to feel. Forcing him to even think things he didn’t want to think! She’d whispered her spells directly into his mind, and he knew of only one thing that could do such a thing. The impossible magics. Telepathy.
She had used the magic that no one had used before on him, that he’d rarely even seen people attempt. She deftly wielded spells that would have killed a lesser magician, throwing his emotions into a turmoil, planting terrible ideas in his mind. Hell, somehow she’d even managed to look into his mind, learn how he thought, see what he was going to do, all while somehow avoiding the paralysis that came with it. With those magics, she learned what he was feeling, and how to manipulate those feelings to her own goals, forcing him to play right into her hands.
There was nothing the spirit of the storms could have done. Every action he tried worked against him. Whenever he attacked, it was because she had guided him to do so, knowing exactly how to counter it. When he defended, it was because she knew where his openings were, and how to work against it. She read every single storm he summoned as though she were him. Even though he was the one directing the winds to his whims, she knew how they would blow. When the fog rolled in, she knew exactly where he was anyway. Hell, if the hail he’d summoned hadn’t been so indiscriminate, he was certain she’d have found a way to work against it.
All this because of the impossible magics she wielded. Telepathy. There was no doubt in his mind. The mage in front of him was the undisputed master of emotional magics, to a degree none could ever hope to close in on. Merlin. The terror of mankind that not even the weather could become. Unstoppable, unassailable, unreadable. He couldn’t help but be in awe of her sheer power. It may not have been pure, physical strength, the sort of thing that could move any obstacle in her way. Nor was it a natural, raging strength, the kind that would bend even mighty trees to her whim. But it was still strength nonetheless. Anything that could feel, anything that could think, would be forced to bow to her. And there was nothing they could do about it.
The spirit of storms smiled at Merlin, humbled. It had been far too long since he’d been in a fight like this. He couldn’t say that he liked it. Not at all. But nevertheless, it was strangely exhilarating. He had never been humbled like this before, and he doubted he would be in the future, either. A true, once-in-a-lifetime experience, even for someone ageless like him. Here he was, nature’s wrath given physical form, shoved into the dirt by possibly the greatest magician to ever exist. He wasn’t a medium, he couldn’t tell what the future would hold, for him or for her, but he could still tell true power when he saw it. And that right there, a pure, unmatched strength packed into a frame no larger than 5’2” and 105 lbs, and hidden behind a dark cloak, was true power. He almost felt honored to have been bested by such a girl. If only it weren’t for the fact that he was probably about to die. That tended to put a damper on things....
“Well, it’s done...” The spirit of weather panted, doing his best to raise his voice above the raging winds, his chest heaving with deep breaths. There wasn’t a single ounce of fight left within him. For a brief moment, he let those winds touch him, blasting his grey hair back and out of his eyes, just so he could look at his opponent properly. “You’ve bested the weather itself. What next?” His green/grey eyes scoured her face, trying to get a read on her expression. She remained just as serious and unamused as ever. He sort of expected that. There weren’t all that many people who would be cheerful after such a battle. It was a bittersweet victory for her. She couldn’t save the village he had just razed, after all.
Without a single word, she raised a hand towards him, and just like that he could feel magic stirring in the air. This was it. This was where he was going to die. He didn’t show a single sign of fear on his face, simply kneeling there stoically, though he could still feel it stirring in his heart. One thousand years of terror and destruction, all wrought in the name of the weather itself, for he was the weather itself. And now it was all about to come to an end, all from a girl who could have been no older than twenty. A true prodigy. Well, at least if he was dying, it was at the hands of someone cute....
It took longer than he thought for her to put the spell together. The spell that would tear him apart. For who knew how long, he simply stared at the soft palm of the one who would end him, invisible magics rending apart the air in front of her hand, slowly stirring and gathering. He could feel the strength of that attack growing. It was one hell of a spell she was putting together. Was she going for maximum torment or something? Trying to let the fear set in? He couldn’t tell. The only expression Merlin wore on her face was neutral. This was the expression of someone putting a feral animal out of their misery. He would feel insulted, if only he hadn’t been so impressed.
Finally, her spell hit. No flash, no flare, just like the rest of them. Suddenly he simply felt his body trying to pull itself apart. Agony ripped through him, his very being straining, threatening to become completely undone, as though everything down his consciousness itself was trying to tear itself asunder. Every muscle, every molecule, every atom felt like it was trying to escape him. There was no part of his being that didn’t want to be somewhere else. So that was how she wanted to end him, complete annihilation!
Even in spite of all his amazing willpower, a scream escaped the spirit of the weather. He couldn’t help it, the pain was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Everything was trying to escape him. Everything. Everything. Everything! His arms, his fingers, his body, his brain, his thoughts, his memories, his existence, his life, his death! Everything! Things he didn’t even know could hurt were in agony. Happiness hurt! Pain itself hurt! All the agony he felt, he felt twice over!
And suddenly everything snapped apart. His consciousness rebounded into him, and his head snapped back as though slapped by an elastic tether. The spirit fell backward, mud splashing as he sank into it, and he found himself blankly staring into the grey sky above, rain pattering against his face. Something felt... off....
Mixed emotions surged through his chest.
He breathed in slowly, tranquility seeping through him.
A tumultuous storm enveloped him.
Was this what the light of a perfect summer day felt like?
Anyone who stood in his way would be crushed.
Calm. Dangerous. Something to be enjoyed but not chanced.
Simultaneously, two people sat up from the ground, frozen mud staining their backs. They looked absolutely identical in every respect, and yet something seemed vaguely different about them. As if on a cue, the two seemed to notice each other out of their peripheries, and they turned. Two heads recoiled simultaneously, one with a baffled, angry look on its face, the other peering curiously. For a few seconds, they simply stared, each closely studying the other. In concert, they turned, heads swiveling at the same pace as they brought their attention to Merlin.
“What the fuck did you do!?”
“What did you do?”
Two voices spoke simultaneously, one polite and one enraged. Though one tensed up, ready to spring, neither of them moved from where they sat on the cold, rain-soaked ground. Whatever spell the young magician had cast to make them stay in place still seemed to be working, in spite of whatever new thing she had wrought upon them. She pulled her hood and cloak closer to her, the fabric hanging limply around her small frame, completely unaffected by the raging storm. She stared at the two with deep green eyes, trying to hide from the rain pouring down over the moor.
“I know not what consequences would arise from killing the weather.” Merlin’s voice was soft and monotonous. Even though it was so quiet, he could still hear her clearly over the pouring rain, the raging winds, the distant cracks of thunder. Those were the first words he had heard her speak. She hadn’t made one little noise before she jumped him, and at most, he’d heard a few grunts of pain during the hail he’d summoned. She was truly a ‘quiet’ one. “Thus, I simply tore you apart. You should not be able to wreak havoc anymore.”
“What do you mean ‘Tore me apart!?’”
“What do you mean ‘Tore me apart?’”
The same sentence spoken twice simultaneously, but in two different intonations. Calm and furious. The small girl looming over their kneeling forms shifted slightly on her feet, her face as placid as ever. If she was at all intimidated by the fury in one of their voices, she didn’t show it.
“Exactly what it implies. Storm and Clear Sky. Arashi and Kaisei...” she spoke the names awkwardly, clearly not knowing the language, but obviously gleaning what she could from their minds. “You are two now. Do with that what you will.”
With that said, Merlin’s business was done. She spun away from the two without fanfare, pulling her hood over her face as she turned into the rain. Her dark cloak wrapped around her tightly, guided by her magic, and she strode away nonchalantly, walking into the roaring winds as though they were nothing, sure-footed even as icy mud splashed and slid away beneath her boots.
“Wait!” One of them demanding, throwing himself forward just as the spell sapping them of all motivation ended. His hand clamped onto the back of her cloak with an iron grip, and the magician was forced to stop in her tracks, though still, she did not turn to face them. Even with their overwhelming strength threatening to sneak up from behind, she seemed thoroughly unconcerned. “Why are you letting me live!?” Though they were the words of one half, he was speaking for both of them. “Either kill me or bind me to your will! That’s how it’s supposed to go when you defeat a monster like me! Not whatever mockery this is! Give me something honorable at least!”
Merlin stood silently for a few seconds, eerily still amidst the raging winds. She didn’t give the slightest hint of a response until.... “I already told you, I know not what would arise from slaying the weather itself. Thus I shall not chance it.” Her tone was just as monotonous as ever, in spite of the human monstrosity clinging to her outfit. “Additionally, you offer me nothing I don’t already have. Thus, I shall not bind you.”
The spirit’s grip faltered, his heart shattering. Both of their jaws fell open, and just like that, Merlin effortlessly wrested herself free from his grip and continued into the storm, unperturbed.
What?
There was nothing he could offer her? Him? Nothing? The powerful, indomitable spirit of the weather itself couldn’t offer anything to some two-bit human mage that she didn’t already have? One half clenched his teeth, falling to his hands and knees, staring in rage at the flooding ground beneath him. Nothing!? The air seemed to stir around him for a moment, the unmistakable feeling of electrical brilliance building in the up as he rose to face the magician.
“Don’t!” The other half called out, springing to his feet far too late. Lightning flashed once more, and blackness consumed the two of them.
![[Image: ZpWQiiu.gif]](https://i.imgur.com/ZpWQiiu.gif)