His monstrous body hardly stirred as he was slammed into the realm of his sleep.

A low sound rumbled like thunder from a broken cloud, a keen ear picked it out to be the resonance of mortar fire as a faint screeching tore through the air in unison. Rykosar leaned his back off from a small rock wall and he had put his weight against, pushing off into a run. Both legs carried him light, the usual metal present in his right leg now gone. Though the situation had absorbed him too much to take significant notice, for the time being it was just a gracious gift. He forced himself to stop and snapped up to a straight attentive pose, his head turned quickly to take in the environment. It appeared to be a strange desert, vermillion tinted sand and a piercing violet sky.

His stomach became a dreadful sour pit as his loss of orientation and purpose for being here wiped over him. Though in the back of his head, there was a burning need to run for a reason beyond him.

So he did.

A pungent smoke began to plume from the west, where the mortar fire echoed from. Despite this knowledge, the first place he moved to carry himself was there. The hue of the sky grew darker in this area for every step closer he was to the source of the chaos. The groans of distant mountains being hit by the consistent cannon fire continued to roar in the background of the old man’s heavy breathing. Rock faces and various pillars of stone began to grow more common and jagged in texture as he advanced. He stopped right as he could see the origin of the smoke from the horizon, the cloud had grown so abnormally large he craned his neck up attempting to find where it had yet to touch in the sky.

Looking back down revealed a sudden change in the climate. The air became frigid and from behind the smoke he could spot a massive stone door without walls to contain what was on the other side. Rykosar moved again, but reduced to a painful walk as pinprick pains began to invade his legs.

When he arrived, the smoke began to curl around his form and he began to choke, a panic returned to his thoughts, and a lost feeling made the cavity in his chest plummet. Exhaling sharply and coughing to relive the burning in his lungs, he reached for the door and let his metal claws tick against it. At that moment, his eyes widened with alarm and every nerve in his brain began to scream.

- Mortar behind you –

He jumped to the left just as a deafening crash shattered his ear drums, a blinding light and heat flooded him. Metal began to dig into his skin and he felt the sand grit his face before sensations were lost and everything went dark.

What was that smell? An acrid stench filled his throat, setting it alight with a flurry of sensations. Pain was chief amongst them, from both the intense heat crisping that inner flesh and from the harsh, burning particles that settled along that inner passage. Bul inhaled sharply, but no air reached his lungs, instead he found himself coughing and rolling off the bed he had been laying in. Still seeking vainly to get air into his lungs, Bul felt around, looking for anything to help him. His hand recoiled as it found an intense heat, instead. Suddenly the floor gave way, crashing down in a flurry of painful embers that the man felt, rather than saw. But the air was clearer, here, and as precious air filled his lungs, Bul opened his eyes. Irritants in the air caused them to water, and Bul’s vision of the inferno was seen through salty tears. His house, he remembered it. All of it was burning, and he was not himself. Instead, as Bul looked up through the fire and smoke, he found himself looking at what he had become. There stood the burning man, clothed only in the flames that sought in vain to devour him at all times, the only thing appearing wholly human being those eyes, which burned with a different light. Purpose, terrible purpose that he recognized as being his own.

“The whole of the world.” That figure intoned. “I have seen it. All of it is burning. Choking on the smoke from that which they fuel their lives with. You have seen it, too. Rejoice, for like the phoenix, once you have burned away you shall be born anew.”

Flames grasped for Bul’s legs, quickly finding them, and beginning the steady climb. Here it was that things seemed to change for Bul. He could feel whatever it was that had made him who he was igniting, but rather than burning away, it seemed to grow stronger in the flame. This wasn’t killing him, it was bringing him to life. But as what? Everything that he had valued, he felt it burning away, reducing him to the raw core of a soul. All the while, he could see Wildfire watching, untouched by the flames. No, that wasn’t right. He could see that those flames strengthened Wildfire.

“Burn away everything, we’ll start again.” The words mixed with the crack of fire, and Bul looked up to see the structure of the house fail, collapsing towards him, transforming his world from a burning vision of fire and smoke to a thick blackness from which he wasn’t sure just how he would emerge.

Light flooded his senses, and a scenery he hadn’t expected to see unfolded before his eyes. Lucas rubbed his eyes, unable to fathom the possibility that he had returned “home”. Standing on a sidewalk as cars ran past him, the sound of people's chattering as buzzing as always. He began to take in the sight, and found the town unchanged through his course of traveling. A feeling of nostalgia filled his mind, though it was hardly for the town itself. No, it was for her. Maria, his friend.

“Time hasn’t affected much, eh?” The house was a majestic one, with its sturdy cream-colored wooden walls not deteriorated nor dirtied one bit. With well-placed windows and a grand entrance, the building imposed an intimidating presence on its guest, him to be exact. This place was her home, as was his. For he was fated as an orphan, he was adopted into their family through pure luck, and they had lived for a joyous amount of time, and it'd have continued had he not left for his journey. But the moment Lucas reached out his hand to press the doorbell near the black metal gate, his glance caught someone. It was her, with a shadow beside her. Another person, who was awfully intimated with her as he wrapped his hand around hers. With his back against a wall nearby, he had made up a new goal for his current sight-seeing trip: examining this “boyfriend” of hers.

Peering from a corner, Lucas could see their sillhoutes, but not their appearances, for they are of considerable distance from him. As he tailed the couple, he could make out certain features of the man from each passing turns they made. Blue, fuzzy hair. Dark attire, with strange cream-colored collar. Four straps hanging behind his head. With every detail he'd seen, the faster his heart beat. It's impossible. Illogical. Thoughts rampaged his mind, emotions crashing against his rational consciousness.


The moment they reached the shopping district, where the sidewalk broadened into a small parallel street for well-off pedestrians, he could see them in plain sight, and it was a shocking one indeed. It was him, or rather, Lucario the Blue Brawler, who he was after he shed the shell of a normal man. Feeling intoxicated from the overwhelming stress, Lucas leaned weakly on a shop's window glass nearby. His eyes caught his own reflection, and his mind was nothing short of a turmoil. He was back to his old self, a normal teenager with a normal life, whose purple hair and brown eyes had reverted back to their original state. Without a second thought, Lucas dashed off, trying to grab his beloved's arm and ask her who he was. But the second he touched her body, his body slipped through her as if he was a ghost. Tumbling on the concrete tiles, he got back up with all his remaining strength and mental power. He could not stand them looking at each other so lovingly as they continued their stroll.

"Oy! I'm talking to you! Who the hell are you?" His voice was intimidating, but shaking. He could feel him reaching his limit. One more push would break him. His command echoed across the landscape, yet the couple walked through him with no acknowledgement of his presence. Lucas was flabbergasted, speechless from pure shock. He turned his head around, to find the same reaction among the moving masses: despite his commotion, none spared him a single glance, if not attention. Being ignored by not one, nor two, but everyone, was the biggest insult he'd taken. He mattered, no matter what, and this fact invalidated his value. He lost all inhibition, and ran after the couple, his body drenched in cold sweat.

"Please, look at me! I'm here! Look at me, Maria!" Then, he felt a hand grabbing his face. The grip tightened, as if trying to crush his skull.

"Shut up." It was Rio's voice, the wandering soul given refuge in his body, "You don't deserve to be Lucario. Nor Lucas." Then, everything went black.

For Lucas, everything was surreal. Was it all a dream? No. It was a nightmare.

The scent of blood, the crack of bone shattering.

KRICK


Another snapping sound as Torvin turned to face the sound.

KRUNCH

A monolith of flesh faced him, the bare body of the beast covered in unnaturally large muscles. If Torvin was more coherent, he may have wondered how he could have even considered to move without tearing a muscle, but what it held in his hand caught much more of his attention.

Dangling In the monsters hand, the entirety of their upper-body encased by the creature’s vice-like grip. He only saw a pair of legs and an arm dangling from the creatures grip.

It squeezed, more crunching and cracking of bone was heard. A river of blood oozed from between its fingers, until it hurled the twitching corpse on the ground.
It was nearly unrecognizable, the part held crushed and mangled by the sheer force of the creature’s grip. A khaki pair of pants, a light shirt, both stained red with blood.
Before he could react to see the body in more detail, the bloodstained hand reached for him, and all went dark.

It was a modest attic enclosure, and one which Karal felt oddly familiar with. Three blue-painted walls and a wide cross window boxed Karal in her most familiar space, evenly surrounding her as she sat upon her bedsheets. It appeared some things had been moved around; she had always imagined her bed to be comfier, and a distinct lack of furniture made her feel at a slight unease.

Karal placed a gentle hand against the pane. She watched nonchalantly as cracks formed between her fingertips. The window gave way effortlessly, but the incident did not seem to phase her either. It simply felt necessary.
The shattered glass littered the driveway outside the small house. Looking down and to the right, a birch tree across the street waved from below. The morning sun was high, yet its branches were undressed and shivering. Karal too was shivering within her bedroom, having just noticed the draft she had caused. It appeared she had no curtains to close. She did not believe the room had been this empty the last time she was here.... And she was right.

Something else alerted Karal's senses. It was in the corner of her room, placed upon her wooden computer desk. Cake, she identified it . A wedge of blood-red sponge oozed in a bath of blackened chocolate, which seeped steadily from the incision of its neon icing jacket.

Trying from several angles, Karal struggled dearly to separate the deluged confectionery from its platter. Glazed caramel stuck to her fingers. It smelled delicious - not quite like how she remembered, but appetising to her all the same.
-Good Morning.- Watching Karal from behind the granite kitchen counter, a young woman looked amused by the ordeal. Her white fabric apron was stained with similar red and brown hues. Her kind greeting rung within Karal's mind; a calm, airy voice which she could not put a face to. It did not match the face which smiled above her. She had a gut feeling that this was not someone she knew.

-You're awake early. Maybe I have fed you too much.- The woman was holding a silver spoon in her left hand. Karal's blue eyes gazed back at her in the reflection. The stranger's words were making little sense to her, but right now her hunger ruled out her train of thought. Her fingers reached out, simply aiming to snatch the cutlery. She could not quite reach the spoon's handle -- nor lift said hand from the counter's surface. Her arms felt heavy... burdened, perhaps. It was a disorienting feeling.

-No subject has been able to crack open their cell before. We'll need to move you into another one.- Seeing that any further attempt would be in vain, Karal's attention finally swayed from the dessert. It appeared she had mistook the woman's apron for a lab coat. She was wearing glasses, but no identifiable face was to be seen in front of them. The air around her was cold. The room was poorly lit, with unfamiliar apparatus scattered throughout the concrete cubicle. There had not been a kitchen, nor a bedroom, nor a birch tree. Wishful thinking appeared to have gotten the better of her.

-You'll return to your senses shortly. Is that okay?- The woman asked rhetorically. She had left the room long before she finished asking the question.

-Senses...- Karal mimicked, speaking only to the sudden blackness which surrounded her. She was not sure how she communicated her words - or if she communicated them at all - for she was suffocating, slowly but surely. Her arms felt heavier. Her feet would not budge. Her eyelids were heavy... or were they already shut? She could no longer tell.

-...This again.- Karal finally realised. Her mind calmed, and her body came to rest. Her struggles for breath were ceased voluntarily. Showing no emotion, she silently embraced her return to a year-long state of unconsciousness. A never-ending nightmare in a never-ending dream.

-It's perfectly fine.-

Eliza is seen sitting in a middle of a dark, dry wasteland; everything around her is nothing but miles of dead land. The sky is no more than a void; no stars, no moon, only the abyss above her. Looking at herself, her nightgown is missing. Light as a feather, she is au naturel within an endless barren. Silence rules this landscape, no sound of wind brushing against her ear, even her own voice has been muted. No matter how hard she tried to scream, not a single word was muttered.

Eliza again examined the desolate area as her head twists to the right, but her motion was decelerating, as if time is slowing down. She has no control on her speed, her body moved sluggishly no matter what. She ascended from the ground and try to get more observation of her surroundings, but no luck. She decides to search the entire desolate plane, but as she kept moving, it gave the suspicion that she's was going nowhere, it's an eternal loop devoid of life. It felt like it's been forever just from walking a couple miles, but then she felt a sudden presence from behind her and quickly turned. What stands in front of her was a mirror, reflecting only her bare imagery upon its glass. Eliza couldn't comprehend on what's happening and why, but nevertheless examines her nude body upon the mirror.

She takes a quick glance down at her own flesh before turning back to the mirror, but what she saw again has struck her with utmost fear. The mirror is reflecting her time back when she was publicly humiliated in the middle of the street. The mirror was stained with the word “slut” in bright red letters while in the background, floating faces of people she knew in the past, those whom she have killed, are silently laughing at her. Eliza's screaming has broken the silence, but the sound of her scream and the roaring laughter is exceeding to its highest volume. The more she shrieked, her reflection is rapidly aging to a grotesque old hag. Her ghoulish self emerges from the mirror before shouting in a loud demonic voice at her face,

“WAKE UP!”

Eliza then fainted from fear.

---

[/HR]

Bella is running for her life across a long corridor of doors. No matter how hard she ran, she is trapped within a treadmill of carpet. Afraid to look back, she can hear heavy footsteps coming closer to her. Down at the end of the hallway is a slightly unlocked door which she desperately needs to hide in, but was unable to reach. Her chest is burning from the excessive running from the mysterious figure behind her, but she can't stop now, not while being hunted like a rabbit running from a ravening predator.

Her eyes quickly glances at the constant doors she's passing by and decides to take the chance and hide in one. She grabs the knob and frantically twist it, but it wouldn't budge. The ominous familiar is getting closer with each second and she's losing time fast. She tries the other door and manages to slip in and lock it. Bella stepped back from the door as it tries to bash it down. She turns and finds herself within a child’s bedroom. Didn't have time to observe the room, she frantically searches for a place to rid herself from the looming monster. Luckily the bed has room enough for her to slip under, so she crawls right under. Bella crawls back to the darkest part underneath the bed as the beast brought down the door. Silence filled the air as it surveys the room.

Bella held her breath as she watched the being's feet treading the floor. It looked like it has left the room, but she couldn't tell due to the intense darkness surrounding her. It is difficult to see anything, and it has launched her anxiety to its peak. She can feel the cold sweat dripping out of her pores and her heartbeat is pounding so heavily that it's bound to burst from her chest. Before she can crawl out from under the bed, the figure emerged.

“WHY'RE YOU RUNNING FROM ME!?”

Bella screamed in bloody terror before the creature's hand can reach out and grab her. Her hands tried grappling to the carpet, but it was too strong. The monster pulled her out and starts strangling her. Her vision is slowly blur as her surroundings fade to black.