“Unhand that medallion at once, Ky’lar.” He knew what it was the moment he laid eyes on it; a treasure recovered from a serpent goddess that took the lives of five brave Asgardian warriors with her before perishing from her wounds. “I will not ask a second time.”
A slight smirk spread across his lips as flipped the medallion over in his right hand. “You mean this?” he asked, holding it towards Thor. “It stays with me.” If it was indeed wanted by Thor, it must have meant something to the Asgardian, but as to what? Ky didn’t know as of yet, but he figured it would be revealed soon enough. “Fair is fair.. after-all.”
At the peal of a distant bell being rung, Thor springs into action, keeping both axes held out behind him as he led with his head and shoulders first. After trading a conventional hunk of uru for an arsenal that had something for every situation faced, he was forced to adapt and change up his fighting style to suit each hammer of the week.
Some, as he discovered the hard way, were not able to endure as much pressures placed upon it and promptly shattered, falling to pieces in his very grip, whilst others put an onus on functionality and flare over walloping foes. The duel axes he had gone for, which constituted one of his more offence orientated options, were already battle tested and had served him well as a focal device in the summoning and subsequent channelling of his lightning power.
And so, confident that the tools he was about to swing at the demon would not break easily, Thor partakes in Ky’s so-called games, letting his opening stroke be that of a pincer manoeuvre. Each axe is drawn level with the other and is promptly swung inwards, edge first, intending to wedge themselves into the demon’s side had he not the temerity of mind to try to dodge and evade such a bifurcating gesture.
A grin pulled at his lips as Thor granted his request for a fight. Such an interesting creature he was. He wasn’t just a Hero, but rather, he also was a God. One, that people still prayed to, and that made him just the adversary he didn’t just need, but also wanted.
Discovering his strengths was an ever evolving process that he doubted would ever cease. Weapons were decent and all, but they had much to be desired. Guns were far too unpredictable for his tastes. Bladed weaponry worked to an extent as their uses and yet they still lacked a certain touch. Magic, on the other hand was another thing entirely, and was far more specific than a blade or bullet.
However, Ky always preferred to use a mixture of magic, and hand to hand combat when needed. It may not have been the best of idea’s, but he was still a demon. He’d make sure to use whatever was on hand to win… even if he knew the odds were clearly stacked against him.
So, when Thor slammed both blades into his sides… he took it joyfully. The blades digging their way into his flesh as his left hand lifted to send a blast of dark energy at Thor to not just blast him back, but also to sear wherever it hit with burns. It was intended to strike him off guard even though it was a major risk if he failed to do what was intended.
Such assurance, however slight, is received positively. Thor finds reason to smile, though the gesture is strained and burdened with the weight of loss. “Nor do I,” he echoes, if out of a need to let the universe know that the god of thunder has no plans to reunite with his loved ones in Valhalla. He could never bear the agony of meeting with them again, until he’d made good on his promise to avenge them.
A sight nod is given to show that he had heard Ky’lar’s remark, after which his attention shifts from the trivialities of conversation to taking action. His eyes light up with a blinding energy, sensitive to each charged atom that floats in the air around them as he holds the axe aloft. He’d observe Heimdall initiate the Bifrost’s teleportation power plenty of times before, but had only called upon it a few times himself.
Within seconds, a torrent of light washes over the duo, carting them off to some faraway place. Thor knew that the bridge needed a fixed destination in order to operation, so he had thought of the furthest star system away from the Earth that he knew of and set course for it. A system that was as insidious and light deprived as the baneful thoughts that currently sought to overtake the benevolent deity’s typically approachable demeanour.
The power of the Bifrost was something Ky hadn’t experienced before. True, he’d been through other means of travel, but nothing like this. If Ky was a bit younger, he would have been asked several questions about it, and how it worked. The only problem was now – being older – he knew that while it was amazing… somethings were best left unanswered. More so given their current circumstances.
While the trip went as planned, Ky had to admit he hadn’t been to many other worlds, and his knowledge of the universe as a whole was lacking. He’d been to Earth and most notably Mephisto’s realm. There had been some others, but nothing like this – or maybe he’d just forgotten what the others were like.
Still, to be so far from Earth… it was breathtaking – more so for Ky as there was a bit of curiosity there. He wanted to explore and to know how this world worked. Hell, he’d want to explore the entire place, but this wasn’t the time nor place for it. No, maybe next time, but not now.
Not when Thanos’ snap and Thor’s failure was still fresh in the God’s mind. Ky may have been cruel, but even he knew his limitations, and wasn’t going to cause something out here. Not when it was just the two of them; he didn’t have to put up an act out here. Nor did he believe it was necessary.
“You think it reached out here as well?” He asked, trying to at least get some sort of dialogue going. It may not have been the best thing to do at the moment, but Ky didn’t know much of what happened. Hell, he didn’t even want to know, and yet some part of him wished everything was just a dream. “—- it’s quiet.”
With true intentions revealed, a change in composure comes over the blond, half-regretting the warnings he issued mere moments ago. For so long he’d believed, or, more accurately put, fooledhimself into investing attention into that the boy’s confrontational habits were a product of reckless whims and impetuous compulsions.
During most encounters, he had fed these desires, placated them as though he viewed Ky like a pet in a perpetuate state of needing sustenance constantly. Had he ever been informed that the demon’s wish to fight him was born of some misguided need to prove that he could stand on his own two feet, a worthy heir of the legacy he was set to inherit, Thor would never have been as quick to amuse him.
“You need to win?” He parrots Ky as though hoping that by repeating his words with his own voice they might finally start to make sense. Unfortunately, they didn’t. “That is the height of absurdity! To be told you are required to do battle and come away as the victor is the type of rationale I would expect to be spouted proudly by hellspawn! But do you not see, Ky’lar? You are better than your forebearers!”
The term ‘better’ was ultimately scoffed at. Since when had he been ‘better’ than anyone in recent times? Training was a waste; it was doing the same thing again and again. He couldn’t even beat one of his Grandfather’s lower ranked demons head on – he had resort to trickery just to win the fight.
He needed an edge; to find what he was good at and then focus there. Instead, he fond himself fighting an adversary that was far powerful than most. To focus in on one enemy, learn everything about it, and (beat) or destroy it anyway possible.
The desires would never be stated; not until he finally found a way to prove himself. Hellspawn or otherwise, he had no choice in the matter – it was either do this or be stuck in Mephisto’s realm for who knew how long.
So, Ky’lar resorted to violence; something that he could hold and grasp. It wasn’t the best of idea’s, but that unending rage fueled him when he needed it the most… even if that was currently the last thing he needed at the moment.
“Incorrect,” he said, making sure that his words stayed on point as he took a step forward, “I’m worse than them.” Though, even Ky doubted the validity of those words; he had to admit in some cases he was. Ky wasn’t limited to what they were as he was still part human… even if he denied that little fact at every opportunity he possibly could.
“I fight… so maybe one day I can prove i’m worthy. To prove i’m more than just a bloody mistake and that maybe one day i’ll have my birthright.” He doubted Thor would ever understand just what he wanted, but at the same time….even Ky had a shred of hope ( even if it was small ). “That one day I might be worthy of something more than useless titles.”
The quickness with which his punches are dished out slow considerably when reminded of their vast difference in age. The blond had known life for several millennia, hitting his stride as a young if brash god when Norseman began to set sail upon the seas in search of distant lands to plunder. He was ancient compared to this viper tongued whelp, and yet you wouldn’t know it to look at him.
It was further proof of how effective this hellish place was of reducing the misanthropic souls trapped within its boundaries to their truest cast.
“Cease your attempts to slander me, should thou wish to retain the use of thy tongue!” Tone filled with hate, the way he now moved revealed what had just stated unnerved him. It caused the ruthless showering of punches and jabs he started with to slow down in the face of Ky’s scathing laughter, as if realising who was the one at fault here – whilst also generating room for the demon to strike back in retaliation.
Now, hatred he could use. It was one of the few things he learned even before his demonic side manifested itself. That hatred was known by most species – man, god, or otherwise.
Once you knew the correct buttons to push, you could exploit them, and then everything would ultimately fall right into place.
In this case, Ky was relying on his more demonic or otherwise feral urges at every opportunity. Coherent thought was out the window and his focus was on taking every advantage possible. if that meant playing dirty tricks? So be it.
“I’ll do far more than that -” words were cut short as he was bombarded by the punches. If he had real training, he may have been able to do better, but so far… he was just trying to find an opening by taking the punishment as he came.
Then he found it. It was when the assault slowed down just enough that he was able to swipe forward and grip Thor’s chin tightly with his clawed like hand. “You’ll be nothing more than a memory of what you are now, Odinson or maybe,” his eyes narrowed. “You’ll be a corpse that i’ll keep for my… amusement.”
A harsh truth, but all too real. The Odinson responds to this reveal with what dignity he has left to muster; a challenge for one so stuck in the mire of irrelevance as he had been. But, being reduced to so little, he was willing to grasp for what chances to escape were floated his way– no matter the cost.
“I… I will.” The confirmation of his intent sits strangely on this tongue after being aired. He was about to partake in practices that’d see all respect he might still be capable of earning from his observers mutate into a species of hatred, labelling his fall as yet another spirit lost to the temptations of darkness.
Given the necessary of it, the blond was willing to wear such a cloak and inherent the shift in perceptions of him for as long as he needed. What macabre work Ky’lar had meant for him to partake in, he’d carry out without complaint.
“Any who interfere will be dealt with in a most severe manner. Now…shall we begin proceedings?”
All Ky had to do was dangle the prospect of something greater for the fallen one, and he’d have a perfect puppet. It would take time of course; getting everything together, but it would be worth it.
Give something, take it away, and keep Thor loyal. If it meant doing things that many would look down upon? So be it. Wasn’t the first time the Son of Blackheart had to get his hands dirty for something far symbolic than material. Nor would it ultimately be the last. All he had to do was play his cards properly and everything would fall right into place.
“As expected,” he mused out lightly. He didn’t need anything going wrong with this little endeavor of his. Nor did he need any of his family members – specifically Mephisto – to get involved with this. Blackheart, he could more than likely wave off (or so he hoped), but his Grandfather was the more wild card.
Ky attempted to, but never understood him or… his father really, but he knew distance was sometimes the best option. Never digging too far into their affairs and staying out of their fights. It worked… on most days at least – just not when Ky was the entire reason of said fight.
“I don’t expect them to bother us, but someone is always watching.” his lips pursed into a thin-line. “The sooner you come to accept that. The sooner you realize what limited time frame we have.”
He then let a slight smirk spread across his lips. “Let’s get to work… shall we?”
Dealt a harsh defeat, the pile of rubble stays still for a moment, the silence deafening in its length. Seeing no need to react immediately, or even drum up further fuss, Odinson, disgraced, depowered and absolutely humiliated, surfaces from beneath the pile of rubble during Ky’s ‘fallen’ remark, a fluke of timing that makes it appear as though such a claim had been spoken too early.
Standing with shoulders hunched and back doubled over, breathing becomes an annoying challenge for him, given the devastation wrought upon his insides by the hammer that betrayed him so publicly. Yes, the blame must lie with Mjolnir, thinks his muddled mind, grasping now at threads before admitting it was his own fault it dropped from his hand.
By the time he deigns to speak, the unworthy blond, no longer interested in dragging out this encounter, makes way to leave, but not before dropping a few angry remarks at Ky’lar’s feet.
“Then leave me to my self-made ruin and be gone from my sight, worthy one. I am certain your time is better spent elsewhere than observing this foolish god
besmirching his own reputation by conducting himself poorly.”
Ky’lar chose to reject his demonic tendencies to become worthy. He rejected his anger and his hatred to become something more. To become something more than he could ever achieve any other way.
It was trial and error. Restraint and release. A circle of becoming better; to admit he had faults and then work better to achieve something more. Mjolnir wasn’t needed for this – he could have done it himself, but the Hammer focused his mind, and gave him a reason to change.
However, it was times like this that hew as put to the real test. Every part of him urged to strike at Thor; to end the Unworthy one here and there. Yet, he knew he couldn’t – to do so would prove he hadn’t changed, and it was why he gripped the handle tightly to avoid doing anything that could prove to be problematic.
“Mark my words, Odinson, your ruin was your own doing. Not mine; a foolish god with no understanding of reality.” His lips formed into a thin-line as held the hammer tighter. “See you around.”
Thor’s brow creases as he listens to Ky speak, his explanation not settling well with him if the twist of his mouth into a disappointed frown is any indication. He is visibly troubled by what he hears, by what Ky would claim to do should he supposedly possess the power necessary to take action.
Thor wanted to believe his sibling, but found he was unable to do so. Crestfallen by this lack of faith in him, the thunder tears himself away from Ky’s presence, unable to stare at a king he cannot support nor condone. “This is sheer madness, Ky’lar. I wish to play no part in it.” Fully committed to leaving a demon in charge of the realm, if only temporarily, he wished to leave at once; and with his departure try to scrub the thought of Ky as king of Asgard from his mind.
“Something is clearly amiss here and I plan to find out what. Until then, fare you well, Ky’lar. I pray that we never need to meet as liege and subject again.”
“And what made you think that you’re were allowed to leave?” His tone turned darker – far darker than it had been before – as he leaned forward. “Asgard is mine,” no, it wasn’t his – not even close – he was still a puppet – no, mouth piece in this after-all, “and I expect you to do as I command.”
It wouldn’t be easy; bringing the realm to fully recognize him as the heir and also ruler would be difficult. It was a reason he wanted – no, needed- Thor to stick around. If he had his support… things would go over smoothly. With out it? Well, he could still do what was required of him, but it would just be slightly more challenging.
“Not as your brother, but as your king.” The moment the words left his lips he wished he could have said something else. Wished that maybe he could have taken back everything and left, but it wasn’t possible. Not when Mephisto was pulling the strings and holding him practically hostage.
“Consider your warning noted! I will…consider it as I close in on this ghost for the killing stroke!” So he was a dangerous sort– why should it matter? Thor had an equally, if not more horrifying reputation associated with this name, the sole difference being that he had not slaughtered a god in quite some time, though he supposes Zeus’ bastard is still sufficently suited for this dark purpose.
“A hero, you say? I like that term!” Such a word broaches a slasher-like smile, bright blue hues waxing with terrible menace as he digests the term and its connotations. He’d seen a few heroes rise and curry favour with their mortal brethren. Individuals who, luck favoured, were afforded the honour of having the rune forms of their names be inscribed upon unmarked stone for all of time.
“Quite right you are, mortal. Those with claims to divinity hold more influence over these lands than your petty intellect can grasp. We need only to look to the fallen greek pantheon for what may transpire when gods die and the chaos their element goes through when robbed of an envoy on Midgard.”
From what Ky’lar knew of the Ghost, he was not just dangerous, but determined. A reason he wanted to stay as far away from the other as possible. Lending aid could be the same as helping – it was a thin-line, but hopefully one he’d be able to walk this time around.
“I can grasp things just fine,” he said bluntly. “Gods live and die – whatever they make doesn’t die, but wilts away as they do. Be it power or even influence.” In Ky’s case, he’d have rather been back home -away from this chaos-, but he wasn’t ready to return there yet. Maybe once this little spat with the Ghost was over, but even then… it was doubtful.
“Heroic actions make you a hero in the minds of true mortals. A villain such as the Ghost could be a hero to many; taking down the Gods as if they were little more than sticks.” he could have said more – much more in-fact, but Ky didn’t exactly think it was necessary for the moment. “This Ghost of Sparta won’t be easy to defeat or even kill. If he’s taken down one series of Gods…what makes you think you’ll do any better?”
Playing the part of escort had not been a role he’d foreseen himself taking up when opening his eyes earlier in the day. But like it or not, here he was playing such a part, accompanying his brother as they walked together towards a bound to be unpleasant meeting. Should any words, on account of their importance, necessitate exchange, now was a suitable time to do so. But similar to his reticent sibling, Thor could not think of anything profound to say. This fact is concerning to him, if for how it illustrates just how little he knows Ky’lar in the dozen of years he’d seen him grow in Asgard’s care. A blatantly obvious outsider, but then he wasn’t the first stranger to grace such halls.
Luckily, they arrive at the throne room in no time at all, an achievement that is only relieving if for how it put an end to the silence that stretched between them on the way here. What was to happen next would not be easy, but recognising the importance of age, Thor takes point, leading proceedings as the eldest child of the family. “Father,” he says, kneeling out of an obligation to recognise his forebearer. Rather than instruct Ky’lar to do the same, the thunderer reaches out with a hand and catches the clothes on the male’s back, dragging him downwards to join him in the respectful gesture. This action is met with a noise of disapproval from the All-Father, which causes Thor to look away, ashamed. He takes a moment to steel himself, then opens his mouth to speak for the both of them.
“We have answered your summons. Now tell us the reason for why you have brought us here.”
Ky’lar kept his silence due to the reason he thought it was best. As much as he wanted company, it was no use to attempt to explain himself over, and over again.
Over the years, Ky stopped talking after he learned he never was going to blend in. His curious nature turning darker and it got to the he even stopped going to anything besides training and reading as much as possible.
Maybe, if he was able to get through to Thor or even be able to explore the Realms for himself things would be different. It was doubtful, but at the same time even Ky had a shred of hope. Even if he still felt like a complete outsider most of the time in his home.
Still, there was no denying the low feral growl that escaped Ky’lar’s lips as he was dragged downward into a kneeling position.
Odin knew that Ky’lar wasn’t adapting as well as he’d hoped. It was something he’d have to rectify, but letting him leave Asgard wasn’t going to happen. Mephisto would ‘smell’ the boy and try to reclaim him. That was something Odin wouldn’t have not if he could prevent such an occurrence.
When his both of his son’s entered, a nod was given. One to signal approval and then a harsh noise of disapproval was given shortly after the fact. It was a simple truth that Odin expected Ky’lar do kneel himself. An expectation that wasn’t much, but proved just how distant he had become. It was something the All-Father attempted to change, but it seemed that even he couldn’t reshape someone’s primal nature. However, it wouldn’t stop him from trying.
“While Thor shines brightly across the Realms as a sign of hope, you, ky’lar do not.” A statement, more than a fact, but Odin was being harsh for a reason. “Since your youth, you’ve always had a darkness – one that has festered over the last few years.” Even if no one would speak the truth of the matter, but that wasn’t the point. “You were both born to be kings. Born to sit and stand in my place.” It was Thor who would obtain the Throne and Thor who would lead Asgard into the future. Not Ky’lar, he would -if he gathered control- rule over a realm of his own, but as the day’s past… Odin knew that would be a close to impossible task.
“And yet… you bicker like School Children.” It wasn’t the right word to use. In-fact, it wasn’t the proper word to use at all, but Odin wanted to use something the both of them could understand. If he said the truth, he doubted either of them would listen so… he chose a slightly softer, but just as harsh approach than the harshest reality of things. “While Thor rises above you, my son.” he said, eyes dead set on Ky’lar, “stick to the shadows and plot to defy my commands.”
Odin could have gone on into more dangerous territory, but the mention of Treason wouldn’t be taken lightly. No, he’d not mention the words that would out Ky’lar in a cell for the rest of his days, but he would recite (with his sons filling in the details) the story of the Demonic invasion that happened years ago. Just so maybe it would get through Ky’s thick head about the dangers of why he shouldn’t leave Asgard.
“Many years ago,” he said, leaning forward, “I fought of an invasion lead by Mephisto himself. It was during that time during the final battle – after many Asgardians were killed – that he let lose his general. A massive Demon known as Blackheart.” He then glanced towards the ceiling. “How did I kill the demon and who was his Father?”
Ky’lar knew the answers to the questions, but remained silent. It was his own way of defying his ‘Father’ and better yet? He didn’t even have to do anything. Just that simple inaction would be sure to make both of them angry. Maybe even enough so he could explore the Realms, but it was doubtful. Very doubtful.
Hellfirebound 