Neyaphem Thor Part IV

This is where he belonged.

The beat of his heart was calm, a rhythmic sound that echoed within his mind, focusing and sharpening his mind upon the task at hand. His body moved instinctively, a powerful and fast, and unrelenting charge that gave no quarter nor offered any mercy. Shadowed lances burst from his body, striking and impaling the monsters that rushed at him from all sides.

A shadowed fog rushing across the field of the dead, rushing into those both alive and dead, and taking control of them, manipulating their bodies for his own. Wings, large and powerful, swinging around like weapons and striking all those that came close, feathers firing out like arrows, impaling all those that came close.

Thor himself rushed forwards, punches and kicks, elbows and knees, every fibre of his body working in perfect unison in a devastating assault upon the monsters that met his charge, or fleed from it. They were all his enemies and he crushed them all, pummeling them to the ground, tearing them apart with his bare hands.

Thor bathed himself in their blood.

There was not an inch of his body, not a speck of skin not covered in the dark red, black and green blood that the monsters possessed. Through it all, Thor smiled, feeling his body grow more and more powerful as he drowned himself further in rivers of blood.

The magical and demonic element evolving him further, wings growing larger and sharper. The darkness around him grew ever large and more powerful. He himself, rocketing across the battlefield with even greater speeds, blows striking with even more power. The battle was Thor's home, just as Odin had intended.

In that cave, all Thor did was fight.

Fight for his survival.

Fight for freedom.

Fight for victory.

When he finally exited that cave and headed out into the world, he was a weapon that acted freely, crushing the enemies and allies of Asgard alike. He defeated his brothers and ascended to the throne as King and led a new and grander campaign. Battle and war were where Thor felt at home, it was where he evolved and grew.

Battle and war were where Thor felt the only sense of pride.

That constant instinct. That occasional erratic beat of his heart as he came close to death. The knowledge that just a single mistake could cost him his life. All of that made Thor feel truly alive, It made Thor feel pride that he had overcome those odds and survived. It was the battlefield in which Thor evolved and now was no different.

The blood of the Demons coated his form, strengthening his muscles, seeped into his body and warped his very mind and soul. They made his muscles denser, instincts sharper, mind more focused.

On the battlefield, Thor was unstoppable.

He spun, wings slashing out and cutting down numerous beings in half, Thor pushing off the ground, a mighty flap of his wings releasing a force of wind so powerful it tore up the earth beneath his feet. The Demons above stood no chance, lances of shadows forming from nothing and firing out, impaling them all except the few lucky survivors. Yet they did not last long, Thor zipping across the sky faster than they could react, fists firing out and punching holes through their bodies.

Spinning, around, Thor looked to see the last remnants of the horde of beasts that lay beneath him and smiled. A single flick of his wrists and all the shadows below came to life, attacking those they were attached to.

The skies and all those beneath it were his.

-X- Line Break -X-

Varuna should have killed him that day, the winged figure that controlled shadows. He should have killed him when he was weak and feeble but had not. For a while, he had been correct in his decision to spare the figure, believing him a powerful tool that he could use to save the Winged Lords.

The figure, the one who refused to give a name, was a warrior, the likes of which Varuna had never seen before. He fought with a brutish skill that was so unlike the elegant way all others fought, simple, but dangerously effective.

The hordes of monsters that invaded from the Higher Realms came as they always did. Varuna and his forces beat them back, but the difference now was that they had the Unnamed at their side. He was weak at first, but he grew rapidly, his skill, control and powers rapidly expanding till he become one of their strongest and then, the greatest of them all.

The Unnamed set out alone battling hordes all on his own, coming back littered in wounds, but victorious. Then he came back unharmed, unscathed and untouched by the thousands of Demons that invaded their realm. His power and strength had grown beyond any of theirs and for a time, Varuna had felt at peace.

For the first time since arriving within this realm that lay within the Archipelago of Dimension, he felt like they finally had a chance to live in peace. The Unnamed craved battle and so he would act as their gatekeeper, battling against the hordes sent by the beings from the Higher Realms. All the while they lived in peace, free and without fear.

Yet what none of them had foreseen, was that hidden ambition within the Unnamed.

He craved battle not for the act itself, but for the power he gained from it.

He did not serve them because he was loyal, but because they offered him opportunity.

He did not save them because he was a hero, but because he had plans for them.

And as Varuna reached down, helping his former rival and wife, Shamhat to her feet as they looked up to the being floating down towards them. His black wings were extended fully, shadows slowly engulfing the sky up ahead, swallowing all the light that bathed their world. Behind him, thousands upon thousands of Bird Men, the Winged Lords who had fought and lived by their sides, now corrupted by the dark powers he wielded and below, hordes of monsters, once servants of the Higher Realms, now serving him.

They had offered him the perfect opportunity to not only grow more powerful but also build his army. His power and infamy grew, things that would bring others to his side. But he had no need for such a thing, his power of shadows corrupting and breaking all those he chose.

They were puppets and he the puppet master.

"You need to fear for much longer," Thor told them, a smile dancing upon his lips. "You shall be joining your people at my side soon enough." And as the last vestige of light was swallowed, the world became blanketed in darkness.

As for them, Varuna and Shamhat, the greatest of the Winged Lords, husband and wife, father and mother. They much like all the Winged Lords, the Bird Men of Akah Ma'at they fell like all those who came before them. Nothing more than servants to Thor Odinson, the Unnamed, the Angel of Darkness.

'It's not enough,' Thor thought, smile slipping away into a frown. 'I need more, more power. If I am to defeat the foe that even Odin could not defeat, I will need more.' Hundreds of thousands of realms existed within this Archiepalgoue, all with their own lifeforms and rulers.

All ripe for the taking.

"Let the conquest begin."