Steel. White light clad in chrome wheeled along the horizon of Hank's eyes. The hoarse rhythm of a clock stuttering blurred out all other noises. A bright figure clouded over him, its deep whisper penetrating Hank's flesh. His skin bristling, sweat seasoning his eyes with tensed teeth grinding on one another.
"You have been chosen. A Hero, you were born to be a Hero. I God of Time, declare you Hank, to be christened as Warrior of Time and Steel. Grow well my child."
Blood trickled down the man's throat. Eyes fiercer than a tiger's, pursed lips tighter than boiled skin of a fish, fists clenched with vein bursting stress. An aura reminiscent of a rampaging furnace in the dead of winter. The trees rustled with fear, the rolling energy tore the air creating spirals of treacherous wind. Shredding through shrub to twig to gravel to stone to steel; such force fractured anything into futile fuel for its continued destruction. Grease bit his lip, Kojiro's blade chipped, Hank flew, his body melting from the speed.
A silver chariot, a rioting behemoth. The smithy was cold, his eyes, Hank's, blankly staring into the chrome mass. A being worthy of his power arose, legs of legend sauntered steeply, its sliding wheels rolled into Hank's soul. A birth of conjoined being leapt as the ride to battle settled within his mind as all became clearer than an untouched pond.
"I am a HERO!" Hank's shout left with his crumbling body. Death welcomed him greatly as his soul joined the Hall of Warriors, never to reach the realm of the prophesied Heroes.
"What just happened!" Grease shouted inside the bubble of Hell's imitation.
"Steel yourself," Kojiro said. "The lines in which we should have crossed have now shifted. Let us rejoice for a battle more new than the future's choice has been brought upon us."
"What the hell is this guy talkin-bout?" Grease mumbled. In the midst of confusion a chant could be heard, the blazing roar of revolution. Wild hair bleached by flame with eyes more ambitious than any conqueror, Nishant stood gallantly with the beckoning beast across the sea of corpses and ash. As the mountain began to collapse he stood by his stead ready for the charge. A misty aura akin to an ancient serpent blended behind his back whilst a cyan hue akin to arctic moonlight bled beneath his feet.
A technique blessed by the Agents of Wrath, the cross. A move that is built on sharp cutting force, the acuteness so deadly it would also harm the user; if used at full capacity the individual would delete themselves.
A technique where he pretends there are six other versions of himself, each able to cut a concept: Space, Time, Reality, etc. His real self simply cuts in a crude arc with his blade, yet seven slashes appear on his victims with their existence being rendered obsolete.
A technique where he can harness the power of his latent potential as a Dragoon, channeling the Azure Dragon. With song and story he can create what would normally only be fiction, rewriting reality. In this moment he broke the chain that holds our blood together.
Rain began to cloak the billowing flames. The mountain was being pushed back into place as Grease, Kojiro, and Dante fended off against the grand Reo. Nishant's hands were bleeding profusely as his legs were cracking, hooves shoved into muddy sediment.
G. Reo's head lay in the watered soil. Kojiro slowly sheathed his blade as Grease dropped to the ground in exhaustion. Dante swiftly ran to find Rad. The night was exhausting, but the sun's greeting wasn't much more pleasant. Kojiro awoke, his eyes gazing at a completely normal mountain. His vision softened to the destruction still around.
"He's still alive…" Kojiro whispered.
"Huh? What did you say?" Grease asked too exhausted to bother fighting his supposed enemy.
"We must find the shiny one."
"Hank, but he's dead."
"No, he's still alive and his curse is still running amok."
"What are you—" Grease's vision blurred as though he was still on his bike. "The same…I've ridden my bike four times now on the same night."
"I have killed the slimy creature four times as well. We've been placed in a corporeal loop."
"Impossible, only mental loops should be possible."
"Time travel…Do you believe in time travel? He would ask this."
"Shit!"
Kojiro whipped his blade through the air, the sword's edge cutting a rift in space. On the other side he could see near infinite versions of himself. His eyes said all that needed to be said. Each Sasaki Kojiro went off to hunt the glimmering man across time and space.
"He will die. Vanish even. Yesterday, tomorrow, or even today, he has nowhere to run, I shall chase his ever changing shadow until it is vanquished by my edge's light." Kojiro's eyes gleamed with keen spite.