Oh now THIS is... old. Hell, it's damn ANCIENT. I came upon this by sheer accident while getting ready to write the Full Circle sequel. I cleaned it up a little and thought I'd post it. Why, I have no idea. Though Griever might, since it has been, at the time, shamelessly inspired by a certain Blood Omen: Legacy of Kain/Ranma crossover. B) <whistles innocently>.
Anyway, enjoy this little side trip. Or not. Whatever.
Don't worry, it isn't a start of the new fic, not unless I finish my other projects, at least. Though I might write a snippet or two when the mood strikes me. We'll see.
Full Circle: The Wheel of Fire should be out sometime today or, at worst, tomorrow. Though no promisses.
*
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. I don't own Blood Omen games either. Shame, I know.
*
Fateless. (since I had NO idea what to name it)
A Naruto/Blood Omen series crossover. (Yes. I know it is not supposed to be crossed.)
*
It took nearly a minute to recognize the feeling, the subtle, electric tingle of the small device. No shifting of the plates, not yet anyway.
But he could feel his mental 'hackles' rising already.
Doubtful that the ripple itself had been directed at him since he was not even a pawn. There were far more potent figures on the board to play with.
But with the Old Man you NEVER knew.
He threw a longing, regretfull glance, commiting the ancient hall to memory. He had spent long, interesting hours in this Keep, time filled with knowledge, learning and, most importantly, peace from machinations and paradox.
Propably his most peaceful time since comming to Nosgoth.
The past was perilious, the future dark and each round of the game played on the chessboard called 'fate' only made it darker still. Like a maze that complicated itself on itÆs own.
'Well, maybe not on itÆs own entirely...' The young 'man' scowled darkly.
'Both Kain and Moebius... Swinging carelessly around, uncaring and unheeding of the damages they caused and things they destroyed in their machinations...'
Although he would have taken Kain over the old sorcerer any day.
'To think that a day would come that I would take side of arrogant fiend, a blood drinking monster who personfis all the faults of a haughty aristocrat with close to none of their redeeming qualities over a supposed guardian of the land.' He shook his head. 'Signum temporis.' he though with a rueful chuckle, nearly choking with laughter at the irony of the saying.
'Besides, I should be cautious who did I call a fiend, being who I am.' He growled. The rage, the old, potent rage raised it's head yet again.
The medalion tingled again and he laid his hand on it, seeking so much as to calm the agitated device as to draw the comfort from itÆs presence.
The device had nothing on MoebiusÆ Hourglass or even KainÆs Chronoplast in terms of power... In fact, until he had claimed it, it didnÆt even have a NAME. Comparing to itÆs more powerful 'cousins', it was weak and crude. But at the same time, itÆs crudeness and simplicity gave it uncexpected benefit. The subtelity of stealth.
A benefit that had, apparently, ended as he noticed the chronodiscs starting to shift like mad. Spinning so fast the internal circles, usually the hardest to turn, moved so fast they became a blur.
And since there was no ripple strong enough in his current 'present' to cause such a rapid shift, there was only one explanation.
"Time Ssssstreamerrrrr..." He hissed venomously, releasing the air through clenched teeth
The Old Man knew he was here.
The Chronodiscs of the Shifter were spinning wildly, unheeding of his will. The Eye was blind to the streams of time, providing no convulted path to follow.
There would be no escape from the hourgalss gaze of the old mage this time.
But he still had cards left to play. Even if he wasn't able to kill the mage, he would make sure the esteemed Guardain of the Pillar of Time would curse his memory for a long time to come.
*
Reaching his home at leisurly palce took over two hours, but it was time well spent.The old spells were dusted off and checked, new ones commited to memory. Several interesting goodies were brought out from their hiding place. He went so far as to discreetely check his claws for grime.
Since he had his 'snack' in the morning he didnÆt need to feed, which was always a plus. Stalking humans in the middle of a city, expecially in daylight was not exactly his most favourite activity. Feeding on blood creeped him out, even after so many years.
Still there was one human he wouldnÆt mind hunting this afternoon.
As he pushed the door to his abode open, he didnÆt need the mournfull whine of the Chronodisc to tell him of the old mageÆs presence.
The Flay was out of his hand the second the mage shifted his staff.
The spinning magical projectile almost touched the mage before it angled back to the young wraith's hand.
'Repelling spells? Magic Shell? No...' The yellow eyes, already showing hints of the ethereal blue, narrowed.
The Flay made mince meat out of static magical barriers and flesh alike, one of the reasons it was so damn dangerous.
'Something else then.' He decided finally
"You really didnÆt think a vampire weapon could have harmed me, did you, little shadow?" The mage mocked. "There are ways to netralise your wretched powers."
'Ahh. Some sort of a Sarafan relic or spell, most propably. The old man was heavily involved with them in the old days, after all. And with his ability to scour the time stream for what he needs...' The man-wraith smirked, his eyes glimmering with barely restrained power of Ether.
"Just had to try. I have a few other tricks I want to try as well." He said with a false cheerfulness, the smile wide, sunny and more fake than the illusionary arts of his youth.
"Obstinant, to the last." The mage sighed shaking his head. "Why do you persist, little shadow? "
"IÆm just obnoxious this way, old man. Especially when someone ruins my life." He said, all pretense of good cheer gone, the malevolent energy dancing on his fingertips
"So little you know, so little you understand, little shadow." The mage made a lazy gesture with his staff, the energy dying, the glyphs drained of power. "You canÆt harm me. I, on the other hand," His smile grew malicious as the staff lit up. "Can harm you, little fledgling."
The Wraith stood there for a minute, before buffing his nails disinterstedly.
MoebiusÆ eyes bluged in a most comical way.
"Y-you... How?" He sputtered in shock.
"Yes?" The wraith raised an eyebrow in most annoyingly Kainish fasion he could. Calmly he wrestled the staff from mage's hands and dispassionately slammed the balled end to the old head.
"You and Kain." The Shadow spat throwing the anti vampiric artifact away. "Both so sure in your own superiority, so sure of your own damn importance in the 'grand scheme of things'. So above the little pawns you play in your gambits against 'fate'. Well, here is one pawn that doesnÆt appreciate being played." He grabbed the time mage by the throat, lifting him from the ground. "You ruined my LIFE, old man." The self-dubbed wraith growled.
"You tore me from everything I knew, robbed me of life and left me a wraith! Do you know how that feels?! My life might have not been the best, I admit."
His eyes were fully blue now, instead of the vampiric yelow of the undead body he now inhabited. An ironic reflection of the past. The hard earned control unraveled, his body already letting loose the streams of ethereal power.
"My life might have even sucked... But it was MINE! MINE! MY own body, my own blood, my own LIFE! Not this MOCKERY!"
He roared, before calming down abruptly.
"But that I might me able to forgive..." He said with a strange calm. "Casually trying to erase me from the Time Stream and blaming me for that, on the other hand... I wonÆt." He bared his fangs, glaring at the Guardian of Time hatefully.
"Do you know just what I had to endure during my time in the
Underwrold, bastard?" The Wraith squeezeed his claws tighter on the sorcererÆs neck.
"They use two-bits like me for a snack there. My soul, bereft of magic and unnatural to this Plane, was barely worth that much. I had been on the run for YEARS in this damnable limbo. Moving, escaping, plotting... It took a long time to gain some measure of power, enough to either run from or overpower my would-be captors. The things I had to do... The vile, unspeakable things that became so common to me I donÆt even have nightmares anymore... All. Because. Of. YOU." He spat the last few words, ethereal energy lashing all around.
"But you propably donÆt care." He said bitterly. "Asking you to take responsibility for your games for once in your life would be too much, wouldnÆt it? You never did so before, why should you now?"
"Responsibility...? RESPONSIBILITY?!" The mage growled and suddenly an explosion left the wraith on the ground, Moebius towering over him.
"What do you know of the responsibility, little wraith?! I had to watch my fellow guardians MURDERED by the vile creatures like vampires!" He spat.
"Murdered simply because they needeed to become monsters to be worthy in their eyes. I oversaw MILENNIA, I guarded entire ERAS! I sacrificed everything and everyone I held dear on the altar of Time... DonÆt you DARE to preach to me about RESPONSIBILITY fiend!"
He snorted.
"Look at you... A soul sucking wraith... A parasite forced to drain others to survive even without the... courtesy of draining their blood." He sneered." Forced to inhabit corpses to gain even a small resemblance of life... You are an abomination even worse than the vampire body you inhabit!
"I am an abomination that YOU created!" The young man snarled.
"True." Sorcere's eyes hardened. "And I can unmake you just as easily."
"You may try." The wraith bared his fangs at the mage in a mirthless grimace.
"Strike me down now, and all you kill will be a shell. I will just shift to spectral realm, back ot the Underworld. I escaped once, I can do so again. Protected by that paradox of your creation you might be, but I swear to you, you will never know peace!" He hissed. "If it takes rest of that wretched existence, I will find a way to torment you and ruin all your plans in any way possible!"
The mage looked at the wraith, his face expresionless for a minute.
"I believe you just might." he said thoughtfully after a period of silence "You are much like Kain... Or Raziel. Tenacious. But you still have a lot to learn, little wraith."
He smiled thinly and the Wraith could feel the ever-shiftng chronodiscs slow down, to finally stop. The Eye of Time in the center going dim, light fading to nothingness.
His whole body felt strangely numb, as if he shifted to the Wraith form... But he was still corporeal. He tried to grab Moebius again, only for his hand to pass through the mage.
"What have you done now, old man?" The wraith asked suspiciously
The Chronodisc shouldnÆt be able to stop. Ever. As long as it kept him anchored to that era, the wheels turned...
He could feel his eyes widening as the understanding dawned.
"As I said, my little wraith, I saw millenia, I forgot more about time and the nature of Paradox than you will ever learn. I can cause it. I can repair it... And I can dismiss it." The mage smiled mockingly, retrieving his staff. "You have no place here, little wraith. Your very existence is an anomaly. I can not allow that. I might not me able to kill you, wraith of the Underwold that you are, but I can erase the very root of your presence and unmake all of your petty accomplishments. Soon nor I, or anybody else, will even remeber you. The very time will forget you." He turned, walking away before stopping and throwing his opponent the last, mocking look.
"After all..." He laughed. "You were never here to begin with!"
The Wraith howled, feeling the first slips of the streams that held him anchored to Nosgoth fade.
*
Ba-bum.
...
Ba-bum.
...
"Reputed to have been torn from the chest of the gretest vampire that ever existed..."
...
Ba-BUM.
...
"...Janos Audron..."
...
Ba-BUM.
...
"...The Heart of Darkness restores vampiric unlife..."
...
Ba-BUM. BA-BUM.
...
"Life is precious, Janos discovered..."
...
BA-BUM. BA-BUM!
...
"As it was torn, throbbing and bleeding, from his own body."
...
BABUMBABUMBABUM!
...
And through the veil of unexistance shrouded over his very being, aided by the
very lifeblood of last, true ancient vampire, first guardian of the Soul Reaver, a weapon that defied fate, he screamed.
And the Void screamed with him, shattering into pieces.
*
The air burned, filling his weak lungs and throat sore from the howl. And it never felt sweeter to him.
He lived.
Or, more accurately, he survived.
Again.
And it was all thanks to Moebius. And little aid from Heart of Darkness.
He almost choked, laughing hysterically.
'I wonder how would the old mage feel knowing that I used his very energy to feed the lifeblood I had drawn from the Heart in my vampiric guise with enough power to survive my 'erasure'?' He thought, laughing like a madman.
'Using his temporal magics as a battery for one of the most potent vampiric artifacts in existence...' The young man smirked, before laughing again.
'Now THAT is an irony!'
Chuckling, he instinctively concentrated on the Path of Blood û a little vampiric trick he jad learned after aquiring the Heart, trying to 'boil blood' to heal the weakness that he felt, only to feel nothing.
'Oh. Right.' He alost felt like slapping himself. 'Time Stream erasure.'
Everything was gone, back to itÆs original place in NosgothÆs time stream.
Even the energy patterns burned into his mind as he learned to manipulate NosgothÆs magics were blank, bereft of energy. Only the minor ones, those requiring his own power instead of drawing on NosgothÆs arcane aura remained.
He would miss his small collection, especially the Chronodisc and the Flay.
And not having the necromantic engine like the Heart of Darkness in his chest anymore was a sour lemon to swallow, even if it meant his survival.
'Speaking of chests...' He frowned.
He stubbornly overcame the weakness, rising hand to check his body, only to freeze.
The hand was... small. As in very.
And it wasnÆt the size, but the general feel, a slightly chubby, smooth look that could only belong to a small child.
And it was... famliar.
His eyes widened.
Slowly, his palms shaking, he touched his cheeks.
His unsteady fingers traced the gouge-like lines that had accompanied him long, long time ago. Long before the world went crazy and dark.
Back when things still made some sense.
There were six of them, three each on his cheeks.
Numbly, he looked around. There was a prevalent presence of white. The bed, the walls... Even the small chair next to his bed.
'My?' He thought dazedly. 'No... I'm sure I never...' He stopped. 'No. One thing at a time. Like with the Sarafan. Slow and steady.' His cerulean eyes focused, searching the room with renewed sense of purpose.
'No, no, no... Not this either.' His eyes swept over the window and his legs itched to get out of bed and check with his own eyes but... 'Calm. Focus. Priorities, remember?' He smiled thinly as he spied a small, shiny bowl. He took it from the nightstand next to his bed. It was metal. Poor quality, but polished more than enough.
Forcing his hands to hold it steady he looked into it... And almost forgot how to breathe.
The air came out with long hiss a long moment later.
Large ceruelean orbs, fair, but not deathly pale skin, six whisker-like marks and hair that could put the sun to shame.
'I'm... me. I'm ME again...!' He thought, his eyes widening.
He sucked in the air greedily, feeling it burn and caress at the same time.
He didn't need to touch his chest ot know that his heart beat and pumped blood. HIS OWN blood.
The face looking at him was slightly deformed because of the poor quality of the bowl, but it had shown him enough.
He looked at his face in wonder.
Judging by the body and the face, he was six, seven years old at most.
And he would BET he was seven. He could feel it in his guts. HIS guts.
He took in the scent of air, almost gleefuly remarking just how weaker, but how REAL his senses felt without resorting to using the undead walking corpse.
He put the bowl away and threw the covers off. He got out of bed, unheeding of the early autumn chill in the air.
With purpose and determination, he stalked to the bed, only to stop mid-way.
"Ah... Right." He muttered sheepishly. He stalked back, grabbing a chair.
He didn't know if to scowl or laugh gleefuly as he felt it's weight.
He dragged the cahir tot he window and climbed on it. There were blinders on, but he could see the light seeping through the cracks.
The lock on the window was simple. Not that it would stop him, really. If he couldn't open it, he would smash it.
The glare of the sun almost blinded him, but he didn't care.
Greedily, he took in the familiar, yet unfamilar sight of cramped village, buildings seemingly growing on their own haphazardly.
His sight, despite the years away from the image, unerringly drew itself to the sandy mountain side and the large visages looking over the village with their stony, yet kind, eyes.
He threw his head back, laughing wildly.
'Meobius, you FOOL!' He almost choked in his mad cackle. 'You sought to destroy me... And you only helped me to accomplish what I couldn't do for YEARS!'
He was home.
Uzumaki Naruto was finally home.
*
Comments?
Anyway, enjoy this little side trip. Or not. Whatever.
Don't worry, it isn't a start of the new fic, not unless I finish my other projects, at least. Though I might write a snippet or two when the mood strikes me. We'll see.
Full Circle: The Wheel of Fire should be out sometime today or, at worst, tomorrow. Though no promisses.
*
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. I don't own Blood Omen games either. Shame, I know.
*
Fateless. (since I had NO idea what to name it)
A Naruto/Blood Omen series crossover. (Yes. I know it is not supposed to be crossed.)
*
It took nearly a minute to recognize the feeling, the subtle, electric tingle of the small device. No shifting of the plates, not yet anyway.
But he could feel his mental 'hackles' rising already.
Doubtful that the ripple itself had been directed at him since he was not even a pawn. There were far more potent figures on the board to play with.
But with the Old Man you NEVER knew.
He threw a longing, regretfull glance, commiting the ancient hall to memory. He had spent long, interesting hours in this Keep, time filled with knowledge, learning and, most importantly, peace from machinations and paradox.
Propably his most peaceful time since comming to Nosgoth.
The past was perilious, the future dark and each round of the game played on the chessboard called 'fate' only made it darker still. Like a maze that complicated itself on itÆs own.
'Well, maybe not on itÆs own entirely...' The young 'man' scowled darkly.
'Both Kain and Moebius... Swinging carelessly around, uncaring and unheeding of the damages they caused and things they destroyed in their machinations...'
Although he would have taken Kain over the old sorcerer any day.
'To think that a day would come that I would take side of arrogant fiend, a blood drinking monster who personfis all the faults of a haughty aristocrat with close to none of their redeeming qualities over a supposed guardian of the land.' He shook his head. 'Signum temporis.' he though with a rueful chuckle, nearly choking with laughter at the irony of the saying.
'Besides, I should be cautious who did I call a fiend, being who I am.' He growled. The rage, the old, potent rage raised it's head yet again.
The medalion tingled again and he laid his hand on it, seeking so much as to calm the agitated device as to draw the comfort from itÆs presence.
The device had nothing on MoebiusÆ Hourglass or even KainÆs Chronoplast in terms of power... In fact, until he had claimed it, it didnÆt even have a NAME. Comparing to itÆs more powerful 'cousins', it was weak and crude. But at the same time, itÆs crudeness and simplicity gave it uncexpected benefit. The subtelity of stealth.
A benefit that had, apparently, ended as he noticed the chronodiscs starting to shift like mad. Spinning so fast the internal circles, usually the hardest to turn, moved so fast they became a blur.
And since there was no ripple strong enough in his current 'present' to cause such a rapid shift, there was only one explanation.
"Time Ssssstreamerrrrr..." He hissed venomously, releasing the air through clenched teeth
The Old Man knew he was here.
The Chronodiscs of the Shifter were spinning wildly, unheeding of his will. The Eye was blind to the streams of time, providing no convulted path to follow.
There would be no escape from the hourgalss gaze of the old mage this time.
But he still had cards left to play. Even if he wasn't able to kill the mage, he would make sure the esteemed Guardain of the Pillar of Time would curse his memory for a long time to come.
*
Reaching his home at leisurly palce took over two hours, but it was time well spent.The old spells were dusted off and checked, new ones commited to memory. Several interesting goodies were brought out from their hiding place. He went so far as to discreetely check his claws for grime.
Since he had his 'snack' in the morning he didnÆt need to feed, which was always a plus. Stalking humans in the middle of a city, expecially in daylight was not exactly his most favourite activity. Feeding on blood creeped him out, even after so many years.
Still there was one human he wouldnÆt mind hunting this afternoon.
As he pushed the door to his abode open, he didnÆt need the mournfull whine of the Chronodisc to tell him of the old mageÆs presence.
The Flay was out of his hand the second the mage shifted his staff.
The spinning magical projectile almost touched the mage before it angled back to the young wraith's hand.
'Repelling spells? Magic Shell? No...' The yellow eyes, already showing hints of the ethereal blue, narrowed.
The Flay made mince meat out of static magical barriers and flesh alike, one of the reasons it was so damn dangerous.
'Something else then.' He decided finally
"You really didnÆt think a vampire weapon could have harmed me, did you, little shadow?" The mage mocked. "There are ways to netralise your wretched powers."
'Ahh. Some sort of a Sarafan relic or spell, most propably. The old man was heavily involved with them in the old days, after all. And with his ability to scour the time stream for what he needs...' The man-wraith smirked, his eyes glimmering with barely restrained power of Ether.
"Just had to try. I have a few other tricks I want to try as well." He said with a false cheerfulness, the smile wide, sunny and more fake than the illusionary arts of his youth.
"Obstinant, to the last." The mage sighed shaking his head. "Why do you persist, little shadow? "
"IÆm just obnoxious this way, old man. Especially when someone ruins my life." He said, all pretense of good cheer gone, the malevolent energy dancing on his fingertips
"So little you know, so little you understand, little shadow." The mage made a lazy gesture with his staff, the energy dying, the glyphs drained of power. "You canÆt harm me. I, on the other hand," His smile grew malicious as the staff lit up. "Can harm you, little fledgling."
The Wraith stood there for a minute, before buffing his nails disinterstedly.
MoebiusÆ eyes bluged in a most comical way.
"Y-you... How?" He sputtered in shock.
"Yes?" The wraith raised an eyebrow in most annoyingly Kainish fasion he could. Calmly he wrestled the staff from mage's hands and dispassionately slammed the balled end to the old head.
"You and Kain." The Shadow spat throwing the anti vampiric artifact away. "Both so sure in your own superiority, so sure of your own damn importance in the 'grand scheme of things'. So above the little pawns you play in your gambits against 'fate'. Well, here is one pawn that doesnÆt appreciate being played." He grabbed the time mage by the throat, lifting him from the ground. "You ruined my LIFE, old man." The self-dubbed wraith growled.
"You tore me from everything I knew, robbed me of life and left me a wraith! Do you know how that feels?! My life might have not been the best, I admit."
His eyes were fully blue now, instead of the vampiric yelow of the undead body he now inhabited. An ironic reflection of the past. The hard earned control unraveled, his body already letting loose the streams of ethereal power.
"My life might have even sucked... But it was MINE! MINE! MY own body, my own blood, my own LIFE! Not this MOCKERY!"
He roared, before calming down abruptly.
"But that I might me able to forgive..." He said with a strange calm. "Casually trying to erase me from the Time Stream and blaming me for that, on the other hand... I wonÆt." He bared his fangs, glaring at the Guardian of Time hatefully.
"Do you know just what I had to endure during my time in the
Underwrold, bastard?" The Wraith squeezeed his claws tighter on the sorcererÆs neck.
"They use two-bits like me for a snack there. My soul, bereft of magic and unnatural to this Plane, was barely worth that much. I had been on the run for YEARS in this damnable limbo. Moving, escaping, plotting... It took a long time to gain some measure of power, enough to either run from or overpower my would-be captors. The things I had to do... The vile, unspeakable things that became so common to me I donÆt even have nightmares anymore... All. Because. Of. YOU." He spat the last few words, ethereal energy lashing all around.
"But you propably donÆt care." He said bitterly. "Asking you to take responsibility for your games for once in your life would be too much, wouldnÆt it? You never did so before, why should you now?"
"Responsibility...? RESPONSIBILITY?!" The mage growled and suddenly an explosion left the wraith on the ground, Moebius towering over him.
"What do you know of the responsibility, little wraith?! I had to watch my fellow guardians MURDERED by the vile creatures like vampires!" He spat.
"Murdered simply because they needeed to become monsters to be worthy in their eyes. I oversaw MILENNIA, I guarded entire ERAS! I sacrificed everything and everyone I held dear on the altar of Time... DonÆt you DARE to preach to me about RESPONSIBILITY fiend!"
He snorted.
"Look at you... A soul sucking wraith... A parasite forced to drain others to survive even without the... courtesy of draining their blood." He sneered." Forced to inhabit corpses to gain even a small resemblance of life... You are an abomination even worse than the vampire body you inhabit!
"I am an abomination that YOU created!" The young man snarled.
"True." Sorcere's eyes hardened. "And I can unmake you just as easily."
"You may try." The wraith bared his fangs at the mage in a mirthless grimace.
"Strike me down now, and all you kill will be a shell. I will just shift to spectral realm, back ot the Underworld. I escaped once, I can do so again. Protected by that paradox of your creation you might be, but I swear to you, you will never know peace!" He hissed. "If it takes rest of that wretched existence, I will find a way to torment you and ruin all your plans in any way possible!"
The mage looked at the wraith, his face expresionless for a minute.
"I believe you just might." he said thoughtfully after a period of silence "You are much like Kain... Or Raziel. Tenacious. But you still have a lot to learn, little wraith."
He smiled thinly and the Wraith could feel the ever-shiftng chronodiscs slow down, to finally stop. The Eye of Time in the center going dim, light fading to nothingness.
His whole body felt strangely numb, as if he shifted to the Wraith form... But he was still corporeal. He tried to grab Moebius again, only for his hand to pass through the mage.
"What have you done now, old man?" The wraith asked suspiciously
The Chronodisc shouldnÆt be able to stop. Ever. As long as it kept him anchored to that era, the wheels turned...
He could feel his eyes widening as the understanding dawned.
"As I said, my little wraith, I saw millenia, I forgot more about time and the nature of Paradox than you will ever learn. I can cause it. I can repair it... And I can dismiss it." The mage smiled mockingly, retrieving his staff. "You have no place here, little wraith. Your very existence is an anomaly. I can not allow that. I might not me able to kill you, wraith of the Underwold that you are, but I can erase the very root of your presence and unmake all of your petty accomplishments. Soon nor I, or anybody else, will even remeber you. The very time will forget you." He turned, walking away before stopping and throwing his opponent the last, mocking look.
"After all..." He laughed. "You were never here to begin with!"
The Wraith howled, feeling the first slips of the streams that held him anchored to Nosgoth fade.
*
Ba-bum.
...
Ba-bum.
...
"Reputed to have been torn from the chest of the gretest vampire that ever existed..."
...
Ba-BUM.
...
"...Janos Audron..."
...
Ba-BUM.
...
"...The Heart of Darkness restores vampiric unlife..."
...
Ba-BUM. BA-BUM.
...
"Life is precious, Janos discovered..."
...
BA-BUM. BA-BUM!
...
"As it was torn, throbbing and bleeding, from his own body."
...
BABUMBABUMBABUM!
...
And through the veil of unexistance shrouded over his very being, aided by the
very lifeblood of last, true ancient vampire, first guardian of the Soul Reaver, a weapon that defied fate, he screamed.
And the Void screamed with him, shattering into pieces.
*
The air burned, filling his weak lungs and throat sore from the howl. And it never felt sweeter to him.
He lived.
Or, more accurately, he survived.
Again.
And it was all thanks to Moebius. And little aid from Heart of Darkness.
He almost choked, laughing hysterically.
'I wonder how would the old mage feel knowing that I used his very energy to feed the lifeblood I had drawn from the Heart in my vampiric guise with enough power to survive my 'erasure'?' He thought, laughing like a madman.
'Using his temporal magics as a battery for one of the most potent vampiric artifacts in existence...' The young man smirked, before laughing again.
'Now THAT is an irony!'
Chuckling, he instinctively concentrated on the Path of Blood û a little vampiric trick he jad learned after aquiring the Heart, trying to 'boil blood' to heal the weakness that he felt, only to feel nothing.
'Oh. Right.' He alost felt like slapping himself. 'Time Stream erasure.'
Everything was gone, back to itÆs original place in NosgothÆs time stream.
Even the energy patterns burned into his mind as he learned to manipulate NosgothÆs magics were blank, bereft of energy. Only the minor ones, those requiring his own power instead of drawing on NosgothÆs arcane aura remained.
He would miss his small collection, especially the Chronodisc and the Flay.
And not having the necromantic engine like the Heart of Darkness in his chest anymore was a sour lemon to swallow, even if it meant his survival.
'Speaking of chests...' He frowned.
He stubbornly overcame the weakness, rising hand to check his body, only to freeze.
The hand was... small. As in very.
And it wasnÆt the size, but the general feel, a slightly chubby, smooth look that could only belong to a small child.
And it was... famliar.
His eyes widened.
Slowly, his palms shaking, he touched his cheeks.
His unsteady fingers traced the gouge-like lines that had accompanied him long, long time ago. Long before the world went crazy and dark.
Back when things still made some sense.
There were six of them, three each on his cheeks.
Numbly, he looked around. There was a prevalent presence of white. The bed, the walls... Even the small chair next to his bed.
'My?' He thought dazedly. 'No... I'm sure I never...' He stopped. 'No. One thing at a time. Like with the Sarafan. Slow and steady.' His cerulean eyes focused, searching the room with renewed sense of purpose.
'No, no, no... Not this either.' His eyes swept over the window and his legs itched to get out of bed and check with his own eyes but... 'Calm. Focus. Priorities, remember?' He smiled thinly as he spied a small, shiny bowl. He took it from the nightstand next to his bed. It was metal. Poor quality, but polished more than enough.
Forcing his hands to hold it steady he looked into it... And almost forgot how to breathe.
The air came out with long hiss a long moment later.
Large ceruelean orbs, fair, but not deathly pale skin, six whisker-like marks and hair that could put the sun to shame.
'I'm... me. I'm ME again...!' He thought, his eyes widening.
He sucked in the air greedily, feeling it burn and caress at the same time.
He didn't need to touch his chest ot know that his heart beat and pumped blood. HIS OWN blood.
The face looking at him was slightly deformed because of the poor quality of the bowl, but it had shown him enough.
He looked at his face in wonder.
Judging by the body and the face, he was six, seven years old at most.
And he would BET he was seven. He could feel it in his guts. HIS guts.
He took in the scent of air, almost gleefuly remarking just how weaker, but how REAL his senses felt without resorting to using the undead walking corpse.
He put the bowl away and threw the covers off. He got out of bed, unheeding of the early autumn chill in the air.
With purpose and determination, he stalked to the bed, only to stop mid-way.
"Ah... Right." He muttered sheepishly. He stalked back, grabbing a chair.
He didn't know if to scowl or laugh gleefuly as he felt it's weight.
He dragged the cahir tot he window and climbed on it. There were blinders on, but he could see the light seeping through the cracks.
The lock on the window was simple. Not that it would stop him, really. If he couldn't open it, he would smash it.
The glare of the sun almost blinded him, but he didn't care.
Greedily, he took in the familiar, yet unfamilar sight of cramped village, buildings seemingly growing on their own haphazardly.
His sight, despite the years away from the image, unerringly drew itself to the sandy mountain side and the large visages looking over the village with their stony, yet kind, eyes.
He threw his head back, laughing wildly.
'Meobius, you FOOL!' He almost choked in his mad cackle. 'You sought to destroy me... And you only helped me to accomplish what I couldn't do for YEARS!'
He was home.
Uzumaki Naruto was finally home.
*
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