Johnwaluigi
Demon Lord
- Credits
- 400
*continued from a taster of what's to come topic*
... He flexed his fingers. Having a new form always disconcerted him. When he felt in a full state of self-control he reached out and touched the twisting, turning shadows which formed the walls of the Underworld. He soaked up the evil like a sponge, he needed this energy. Being asleep for half a millennium was incredibly draining on his power. He pulled his hand back again, the fresh, raw evil pumping through his veins. He looked up and let out a manical laugh. The remains of his cell exploded. He looked back with disdain. So much for that. The Godess used most of her energy locking away his master. The magic on his cell wasn't so strong. He spun on his heel and clicked his fingers. A long, black saber appeared in his hand. He grinned evilly, this day was just getting better and better. He then walked straight through the shadows surrounding the rubble of his cell. He emerged in a new room. A cavernous throne room, with a jet black throne at the very end and an old, bloodstained pedestal in the centre. This brought back fond memories of the executions of many demons for Ghirahim. Oh, he did enjoy freedom again. He walked right up to the throne and brushed it's arm gently. At once, the doors of the room and one of the last Sheikah guards sprinted in. As she ran, she unsheathed both her swords. The golden metal glinted in the darkness. She the acrobatically leaped into the air and swung both her swords downwards. Ghirahim made no attempt to block but grabbed both swords, his hands charged with protective energy. This move caught the Sheikah by surprise. Ghirahim wrenched both swords from her grip. He then disappeared. The Sheikah looked around with bewilderment, only for Ghirahim to reappear right behind her and run both blades through her. She fell to the floor, writhing in pain. Ghirahim walked up to the throne and sat, looking thoughtfully at the Sheikah's body as the life drained from her. If Ghirahim wanted to raise Demise, he needed a plan...
To be continued...
... He flexed his fingers. Having a new form always disconcerted him. When he felt in a full state of self-control he reached out and touched the twisting, turning shadows which formed the walls of the Underworld. He soaked up the evil like a sponge, he needed this energy. Being asleep for half a millennium was incredibly draining on his power. He pulled his hand back again, the fresh, raw evil pumping through his veins. He looked up and let out a manical laugh. The remains of his cell exploded. He looked back with disdain. So much for that. The Godess used most of her energy locking away his master. The magic on his cell wasn't so strong. He spun on his heel and clicked his fingers. A long, black saber appeared in his hand. He grinned evilly, this day was just getting better and better. He then walked straight through the shadows surrounding the rubble of his cell. He emerged in a new room. A cavernous throne room, with a jet black throne at the very end and an old, bloodstained pedestal in the centre. This brought back fond memories of the executions of many demons for Ghirahim. Oh, he did enjoy freedom again. He walked right up to the throne and brushed it's arm gently. At once, the doors of the room and one of the last Sheikah guards sprinted in. As she ran, she unsheathed both her swords. The golden metal glinted in the darkness. She the acrobatically leaped into the air and swung both her swords downwards. Ghirahim made no attempt to block but grabbed both swords, his hands charged with protective energy. This move caught the Sheikah by surprise. Ghirahim wrenched both swords from her grip. He then disappeared. The Sheikah looked around with bewilderment, only for Ghirahim to reappear right behind her and run both blades through her. She fell to the floor, writhing in pain. Ghirahim walked up to the throne and sat, looking thoughtfully at the Sheikah's body as the life drained from her. If Ghirahim wanted to raise Demise, he needed a plan...
To be continued...
