Mortal Coil (CONQUEST)

Like a moth to a flame, Vale was drawn to the carnage. Blissful, indiscriminate carnage. The sensation, the chills running down his spine, how grand it was!

The perpetrator was unknown to the Shinjin, but the method with which he operated was far too familiar for it not to bring a smile on his face. After all, Vale had no monopoly on soul-altering powers and was probably from the most adept at it in the first place.

When he arrived at the scene, everything had already been set in motion. The dead had risen, preying on their living counterpart, drenching the city in escalating chaos. A spectacle to behold, indeed. It was pure, unadulterated. Yes, that was the gourmet kind of violence. Vale took a moment to close his eyes, taking in with his other senses the dread that filled the street, witnessing the death throes of Earthlings, captivated by this intimate moment as they crossed the boundary between life and death.

But who was -or rather, who are- the ones responsible for such delight? Popping right beside Sitri & Valac, Vale bowed down respectfully in a sign of respect.

“My compliments to the chef.” he said, sporting a satisfied grin. “What could warrant such delectable mayhem, I wonder? No, no, don’t say it. It would…spoil the moment.”

Turning around, he looked at the scene from the ground, feeling suddenly nostalgic. There was certainly a time where he indulged in that same hunger for death. Not that he wasn’t as interested today as back then, but with time and maturity, he had realized he preferred to be a spectator, rather than an active participant.

"That's the last of it."

With an affirmative grunt, Garon placed a half-beaten cardboard box onto the carpet, completing the collection he'd been growing for the past few hours. The room was now cluttered with pillars of boxes, each labeled some variation of "OFFICE SUPPLIES" in stark black marker. It was a big day– with the recent news of his mother's promotion, she needed help moving all her stuff into the new office. Someone had poured a lot of money into the space– all the preexisting furniture was top-of-the-line, and it had those fancy motion-activated lights. Her desk was backlit by a window the size of a wall, boasting a view of Central City anyone would be jealous of. Garon was glad at least one of them was moving up in the world.

Garon's mom pushed open the door, her hands filled with paperwork too dense for him to read at a distance. "Is that everything?" she asked, high off the adrenaline of her first day. "Yeah. Everything's off the truck." With a sigh of relief, she pushed away some clutter on her desk to make room for her papers, dropping them off before heading back for the door. "Almost done for the day! I... have an interview with the higher-ups, just a formality. I'll be out in a couple of hours. Think you can keep yourself busy until then?" Garon shrugged, looking out of the window. "I dunno. Haven't really been around here that much." Garon's mom smiled as she walked out into the hall.

"It's a big city! I'm sure you'll find something to do."

It didn't take long for boredom to kick in; within minutes, Garon was walking the unfamiliar streets of Central City. The sidewalks were just as crowded as they say, and it felt like everywhere you walked, you could find whatever kind of store you were looking for in a five-minute radius. If his wallet wasn't close to empty, he could see himself having a great time just navigating the maze, finding new spots to enjoy.

Unfortunately, that day would not come to pass.

The only reason Garon did not join the hundreds of souls claimed by the Lich is that he was lucky. There was no higher explanation, nor could he have done anything to improve his odds. Fate had different plans for him. In an instant, death declared its claim on Central City. Droves of people flooded the streets, abandoning their cars in a mad dash for the city borders. Hot on their trail was the fresh undead, their post-lives given new purpose by whatever magic strings tugged them along. It didn't even take a minute for the city to plunge into pandemonium.

Whether Garon liked it or not, this was the opportunity he'd been looking for.

He didn't wait to suit up; finding a vacant alleyway to transform in would've taken too much time. From his place in the crowd, an armored hero emerged, flying straight for the source of the chaos. He figured that by the he arrived, he would be greeted by an array of heroes from legend, ready and willing to let him join them on the front lines and share the glory he'd been fighting for months to earn. What he'd find instead, as his Scouter roared to life, was a living nightmare. Immediately, the radar populated with over a dozen Power Levels– each well above his own. Most of the familiar faces weren't promising either, with Vale and Moire both present. Even fucking Lottus was there, dressed to impress with a seven-digit Power Level to boot. It was the worst-case scenario.

"What the hell is WRONG with you people?!" Garon blurted out, equal parts scared and angry at the numbers on his screen. It was an impossible situation. "What are you all waiting for? Don't just stand there! Do something!" His message wasn't directed at anyone specifically; he couldn't discern who was on whose side. With no other options, he turned to one of the only faces he recognized.

"You're fucking crazy if you think I'm gonna let you turn this place into a graveyard!" Garon yelled towards Lottus. Acting fast, he charged a gray sphere of crackling energy– his best yet– and vaulted it at Lottus as hard as he could!

Garon had already decided. He wouldn't let anyone lay another finger on Central City until everyone and their grandmother had evacuated. No more losses, no more impossibilities. It was time to show off all the work he'd put in up until now.

One way or another, he was getting his damn victory.