Cold Steel's arm turned into a cannon within a split second, and... nothing happened. Or at least, nothing seemed to happen. A series of small pebbles proceeded to rise into the air at a certain point, only to suddenly disappear into nothingness.
"Singularity cannon. Not strong enough to be a black hole, but it should definitely crush your pathetic excuse for-"
Karunax was unaffected. And what was more, the pebbles ceased to float.
"Oh come on! That's it! I'm gonna kill Mata Nui for giving you all those darned pow-"
Cold Steel was by this point punched straight across the face and sent flying to the other side of Xia. Such was the fate of those who faced Karunax without a means to break his armor -- which was pretty much everyone.
"Yeah. This is getting old fast." He said, trying to think of what to do next while admittedly somewhat stuck to the rubble he had been thrown into.
In the distance, he could see another skyscraper crumbling, another victim of the Makuta's destruction.
A slab of obsidian came crashing down upon a nameless Makuta. Realizing its folly in being where it was, it pleaded with its slayer a measure of mercy, but before it could find the words, a weak plasma was sent into the upper half of its armor, incinerating the antidermis within. "No." the slayer said, after the fact. The mysterious ebon Makuta-slayer picked his blade back up and pressed onward. A trail of smoke and an eerie violet glow following him in his wake.
It was a weapon made of Rahi bone and spare metal. It bore a distinct blackened hue due to the nature of the materials made to use it, and was also infused with shadows in the making of it. Any hate and rage that may have been felt as the blade was made has been directly injected into the material, forming an edge of pure darkness and chaotic energies running along the length of the blade, a darkness that only grew as its wielder's swirling tempest of emotions continued to intensify.
The Makuta-slayer was Kratark, and his eyes were no longer their usual violet. They were a deepest charcoal. A blackness so pure as to exceed the terror of looking into the space that lies beyond the edge of the universe. A black that not only absorbed light but destroyed it. The only thing this black could possibly reflect was pain... pain of the purest sort. Pain that transcended comprehension. Where once there lay dulled senses and a bored existence now raged the violent flames of absolute rage and hate. Kratark's dark power now transcended the darkness itself -- he has broken a wall that one would not think even existed. Lesser beings who are consumed with such sorrow as Kratark usually die soon after. Makuta Kratark does not have this luxury though, for he is not inconvenienced with the need to rely upon something as unreliable as a "heart" to live on. He is an immortal being of pure energy with no weaknesses aside from extreme heat or cold, but that is neither here nor there. Since he cannot die from the extreme strain he is under, he carries on, Oblivious to the terrifying and incomprehensible potential he has unlocked. Obliterating everything that's not his friend.
Cold Steel lay beaten on the ground level of a munitions plant, and he was ticked off. As he angrily grumbled, wondering to himself: How did I get beat up like that? I'm cooler than this! He heard a sudden scream -- a Makuta's scream, and it was a very welcome sound to his ears. A door faded into nothingness without warning on a stairwell across from him, and he saw Kratark walk through, the door apparently having been consumed by the transcendental void that now permeated about the vaunted "One-Punch Makuta."
"Ah, Kratark. My favorite punching bag!" Said Cold Steel in an unusually playful but no less truthful and disparaging tone, "...I seem to be in quite the emberassing situation."
Kratark was silent. His anger too focused on Karunax to even acknowledge the insult Cold Steel shot at him.
"Hey... some of the Xians were cheering when they saw... ahem, I heard about..." Cold Steel would have finished that sentence with the word "Waffles", but the disturbed look on Kratark's Kraahkan -- an emptiness that was empty of emptiness itself, said it all and more. There was no telling at this point what reminding Kratark of Waffles would do. He was already so far over the edge that it was a miracle that the very universe had not collapsed in on itself. Existence was simply not meant to harbor such raw power in its midst, and yet it seemed under control -- if barely.
After taking a good, long look at Kratark's face, Cold Steel of all people was driven to somberness, remarking, "...Go get him, Kratark." It was the only productive thing he could think to say at this point.
"Where?" The question was all at once a dry whisper gentley ushered into the wind and a shout of rage driven with dark purpose.
"Other side of the island. Out that door, and due west down the road. There's a fallen skyscraper. If there's shade there you might be able to-"
Kratark vanished.
"... see something in the shadows. Ugh -- edgelords... so cool but so dumb."
Karunax's armor was suddenly chipped. Upon noticing this he immediately delivered a savage backhand to whoever had done the deed, only to find his fist colliding against an unmoving object. A distinct Kanohi Kraahkan. Makuta Kratark was completely silent. Apparently a specter of something beyond death before Karunax. A harbringer of forces that simply could not be comprehended. If Kratark said something by this point, it was an indistinguishable whisper, a veritable rustling of the wind. In the blink of an eye, a massive purple blade suddenly twirled about and cut through Karunax's still outstretched arm, seperating his metal wrist from the gauntlet it was once attached to. The hand that bore infinite strength found itself being cut off by some dastardly contrivance of fate.
"I realized something, Karun. You've been using me this whole time. I was brought into this world by a good man. A man you nearly killed. A man I nearly killed. When I refused, you then in turn took the only thing I ever created from me. You died when you did that. The only reason you still exist right now is because you teleported, and I needed to tell you these things before I did anything to you. For what it's worth: you also made me betray the only being that could even come close to giving me a fun sparring opportunity, and he doesn't even know what I did here yet. For all he knows I came here to stop you and Waffles died somewhere along the way. I probably won't be able to show my face to him after this. Thanks for that."
"Your welcome!" Karunax snarled. With the hand he still possessed, Karunax furiously swung out at various points of Kratark's armor. Unfortunately for Karunax though, Kratark yet remained unflinching and undamaged. It was beyond explanation. The being that Karunax could once push around and throw freely was now completely and totally invincible for some inexplicable if not sinister reason. And instead he just stood there, unmoving, as if to allow Karunax to let the thought of his doom fully sink in.
Kratark remained unmoved and unfazed by Karunax's ruthless barrage of punches. As the juggernaut lashed out in vain, Kratark spoke: "I first joined the Brotherhood because Emarcee told me to when I was created. Neither of us had any idea The Brotherhood was going to turn on Mata Nui, nor did I know I was supposed to stop it. I didn't know right from wrong because he never told me. He had faith I'd be able to sort it out on my own. And you exploited my apathy! I didn't know what I even *wanted*, and *you* presumed to answer that question for me. You never had the right."
Karunax's fist continued to bang upon Kratark's chest with frantic desperation, but it would not break.
"WHY CAN'T I KILL YOU?!" He screeched.
"Your strength is only infinite."
"EXACTLY!! SO WHY HASN'T YOUR ARMOR SHATTERED?!"
"Your strength is only infinite."
"BY DEFINITION YOU SHOULD BE IN PIECES!!!"
"Your strength is only infinite."
A terrible realization came to karunax, and that's when Kratark's claymore suddenly jumped from seemingly out of nowhere and thrusted itself straight through Karunax's chest. The shadowed blade protruded from the other end effortlessly, and with seemingly now resistance.
"HOW DID YOU DO THAT?!?!" Screamed Karunax, taking slower, heavier potshots at Kratark's face.
Kratark released his grip from the sword, which remained embedded in Karunax's armor, and proceeded to procure his other weapon, that bladed fist of his that had spelled doom for so many innocents, a weapon that sadly only now would be turned upon evil. He then stood there, arms crossed, until Karunax was finally ready to give up. A well-timed "SHUT UP!" coupled with a deathstare was enough to ensure the juggernaut admitted defeat.
The juggernaut fell to his knees, and asked, "Are you... going to hit me with your right arm then?" Seemingly resigned to his fate at last.
"No. No. No." Kratark replied, shadows bursting at the seems with each word.
"Your left?" Karunax asked, curious as to why Kratark was holding his fistblade in his right hand if he wasn't going to use it.
A flurry of thousands upon thousands of blows ensued, fragmenting Karunax's armor piece by piece. As Kratark swiped and slammed his arms about, those same armor fragments were pounded into a fine powder, a powder that was then scattered into dust, and then that dust was further disintegrated down into their base atoms with massive blasts of over-compensating energy. All the while Kratark screamed. All of his rage, his hatred, his pain, all of it, after being contained for so long, was suddenly concentrated into a single unholy screech that resounded throughout Xia. A scream that would chill even the most edgy veterans of mosh pits. A primal yell that could make any sort of metal band look like a vain poseur. This was real turmoil. Turmoil being concentrated into one single rush of blows. It was the rarest of all sights: darkness being channeled, harnessed... and redirected, not at light, but at darkness. A darkness so profound that it hated evil and sought to reconcile with the light without becoming it. Indeed, nothing less but total obliteration would suffice when it came to the likes of Karunax. When it was all said and done, the only thing that yet remained was the wretch's antidermis.
This antidermis would only remain for a single instant.
One last punch was to be issued, and it ignited the air around it. A brilliant streak of violet flames erupted about Kratark's bladed fist as it burst forth at an incomprehensibly fast speed. Some can claim their blows fast enough to create embers from friction in the air. Others can claim their fists indeed catch flame. Only Kratark can say these flames are purple. Be it because of shadows, or the pure speed and heat of the blow, it matters not. What can be said for certain, however, is that the distinct smell of a Makuta's essence being snuffed from existence came into being. It was a smell that would signify at last the violent end of Makuta Karunax.
-last edited on Sept 24, 2018 17:24:20 GMT by Emarcee
Post by Emarcee on Sept 24, 2018 17:23:03 GMT
In the moments that followed, Kratark in fact did not wish to be alone. However, for a being such as he, company -- much less camraderie would be hard to come by, especially when the few beings who had come to know him were now either dead, or nearly dead. Curses! the lone Makuta thought, If only I knew *sooner*... if only I gave a darn about what was happening around me! I could have done something!
Unlike my bretheren, I was not cursed with arrogance... no. My fate was far worse. *Apathy* was my lot. To think: all this power, and I've either misused it, or worse yet, *not* used it.
As the Makuta pondered his irresponsibility, he could not think of what to do next. The only thing he loved in this world save for his cape was gone, and even that, he admitted, was merely a silly vanity he afforded himself merely to introduce some measure of levity in his otherwise uneventful existence. The thing that truly brought him joy, if only a little bit, was now gone, and he didn't even know how he might recreate such a beautiful beast even if he could bring himself to try and do it. The only thing that would be left to do is to annhilate the rest of the Brotherhood, but that would leave him without foes to battle. Kratark's was a perplexing case of "Too bored to live, too smart to die." A terrifying consignment to say the least.
And so alas, Kratark was right back where he started. Virtually alone in a world where nobody would have his company, let alone be capable of entertaining him, and too powerful and invincible to be threatened or challenged by anything or anyone. None can say what the Makuta of Zakaz went on to do beyond this day. But whatever it was, it probably will at least be of no consequence to anyone else. And though it is but a small comfort, Kratark can at least say that he has secured a brighter future for those who do have a purpose in their lives.
The End?
Oh and uh, now announcing Valfakt. It'll blow your socks off, seriously.
In the moments that followed, Kratark in fact did not wish to be alone. However, for a being such as he, company -- much less camraderie would be hard to come by, especially when the few beings who had come to know him were now either dead, or nearly dead. Curses! the lone Makuta thought, If only I knew *sooner*... if only I gave a darn about what was happening around me! I could have done something!
Unlike my bretheren, I was not cursed with arrogance... no. My fate was far worse. *Apathy* was my lot. To think: all this power, and I've either misused it, or worse yet, *not* used it.
As the Makuta pondered his irresponsibility, he could not think of what to do next. The only thing he loved in this world save for his cape was gone, and even that, he admitted, was merely a silly vanity he afforded himself merely to introduce some measure of levity in his otherwise uneventful existence. The thing that truly brought him joy, if only a little bit, was now gone, and he didn't even know how he might recreate such a beautiful beast even if he could bring himself to try and do it. The only thing that would be left to do is to annhilate the rest of the Brotherhood, but that would leave him without foes to battle. Kratark's was a perplexing case of "Too bored to live, too smart to die." A terrifying consignment to say the least.
And so alas, Kratark was right back where he started. Virtually alone in a world where nobody would have his company, let alone be capable of entertaining him, and too powerful and invincible to be threatened or challenged by anything or anyone. None can say what the Makuta of Zakaz went on to do beyond this day. But whatever it was, it probably will at least be of no consequence to anyone else. And though it is but a small comfort, Kratark can at least say that he has secured a brighter future for those who do have a purpose in their lives.
The End?
Oh and uh, now announcing Valfakt. It'll blow your socks off, seriously.
In the moments that followed, Kratark in fact did not wish to be alone. However, for a being such as he, company -- much less camraderie would be hard to come by, especially when the few beings who had come to know him were now either dead, or nearly dead. Curses! the lone Makuta thought, If only I knew *sooner*... if only I gave a darn about what was happening around me! I could have done something!
Unlike my bretheren, I was not cursed with arrogance... no. My fate was far worse. *Apathy* was my lot. To think: all this power, and I've either misused it, or worse yet, *not* used it.
As the Makuta pondered his irresponsibility, he could not think of what to do next. The only thing he loved in this world save for his cape was gone, and even that, he admitted, was merely a silly vanity he afforded himself merely to introduce some measure of levity in his otherwise uneventful existence. The thing that truly brought him joy, if only a little bit, was now gone, and he didn't even know how he might recreate such a beautiful beast even if he could bring himself to try and do it. The only thing that would be left to do is to annhilate the rest of the Brotherhood, but that would leave him without foes to battle. Kratark's was a perplexing case of "Too bored to live, too smart to die." A terrifying consignment to say the least.
And so alas, Kratark was right back where he started. Virtually alone in a world where nobody would have his company, let alone be capable of entertaining him, and too powerful and invincible to be threatened or challenged by anything or anyone. None can say what the Makuta of Zakaz went on to do beyond this day. But whatever it was, it probably will at least be of no consequence to anyone else. And though it is but a small comfort, Kratark can at least say that he has secured a brighter future for those who do have a purpose in their lives.
The End?
Oh and uh, now announcing Valfakt. It'll blow your socks off, seriously.
