The Devil's Infantry ~P, NK~

Somehow the tyrant's voice seemed... final.

Well, that was troublesome. It seemed he was intent on ending the boy's life for his outlash. Would he truly die for defending what he loved? Well, that was to be seen. Killed for biting back. How ironic an end it would be.

The boy would simply shrug and kneel, speaking before turning up his head and being caught in the genjutsu, reality slipping away from him. There was a way to be found out of this. Surely.

"Of course, Lord Kage."

Nothing was final, not even fate. Everything would kneel before a titan in time. It seemed it had come time to find out which.

~Being caught in Tsukiyomi, w/e the hell that does, like seriously who uses that shit.~

Darkness shrouded the immediate vicinity of Altar, blocking out any visual stimulus other than himself as there seem to be a highlight on himself, a beam of light with no apparent source that came from the blackened sky. Yet the bleeding eye would remain within the shadow, it's distance varying in a rather uneasy display despite Xyxer's actual lack of movement.

It'd take only a few moments while he filtered through the entirety of the boy's memories to sift through them as he found relevant. He wanted to understand this boy, and the only way for that to occur would be for the boy to understand him as well. There'd been a divide between the two who by all rights should have understood one another right from the get go. A few particular scenes involving a conspiracy jumped out at him initially, something that he'd have to develop on later.. but for now, it was a time for the male to understand the quandary he was in.

A light, rapid splatter would start to echo through the eardrums of Altar, and he'd even feel himself start to become wet. The darkness lightened up to reveal a misty, cobbled village, with the pattering of rain soon being matched with the slapping of feet on the rocks as a chase was ensuing. Down the street, a silver haired individual with two different coloured eyes sprinted across the cobbles as quickly as his legs could enable him. His stamina wasn't the best, nor was his breathing during the ordeal due to his green nature. Behind him, a small group of four boys chased after him through the cobbles, jeering and coordinating their movement onto the boy. They appeared to be the same age as the boy, similar in height and weight. Altar wouldn't need to move to follow this display, as his vision would soon show the prey taking a sharp turn much to the group's laughter.

Moving forward and looking into the alley, it was easy to notice.. it was a dead end. The silver haired boy jumped towards the nearest wall in hopes that he could leave through hardcore parkour, but the wall was too wet and he couldn't find traction; he slipped back down towards the nape of the alley. He only repeated this motion once more while the boys continued to stalk towards him like a gang of wild hyenas. There was nothing left for the boy to do but prepare.. he'd never been one for diplomacy, even back in those days. Old Kirigakure was not a village for peace, and his cries would have been unheard if he'd ever had the guts to ask for help. The second boy would leap out from behind the first boy, launching a vicious punch at the exposed jawline of Xyxer.

Clunk.

It made solid contact with his jaw, sending the boy back against the wall despite his braced pose. The entire gang launched their flurries on the stunned child, throwing punch after punch at the silver haired boy as his arms feebly attempted to defend himself from the shots. One after another they landed, and the boys started to up their game; they started to pull on Xyxer's clothing to force him off guard before throwing in knees towards his gut and face, but he was smart enough to keep his face covered. 

Perhaps there was an expectation of the boy to suddenly pull out an upset win.. to become the hero of the story.

That wasn't how it would unfold. There would be no creation of heroes in this story.. no valiant deeds. This was a tale of the savage village that bred savage creatures. Momentarily there'd be a pause in the action before the whipped dog jutted his head forwards, headbutting the primary boy in the sternum to push him away before whipping his head up towards the next boy under the rain of punches. Streaks of blood flew through the air, staining the innocence of those in the area.

Latched into the boys throat were Xyxer's teeth, biting into his thorax like a feral beast. Blood seeped from the wound while the boy gurgled on his own essence, trickling down the cheeks of the beaten one. The surrounding boys watched, stunned.. The silver haired boy had not always been the strongest, nor the fastest.. but being brutal was easy for him, it came naturally. It was how he survived the Mist despite the plethora of better candidates. The young Xyxer spit the flesh from his bloodied mouth as the boy dropped behind him, clutching at his throat as if that would help keep the blood in. 

This was how you survived.

Boys being boys had escalated into much more than it normally did, and that was enough for the kids to just step aside, gawking at the sociopath as it made it's way out of the alley. There'd be a brief flash in the genjutsu before Altar could see the corridor of his home in Kirigakure, a well lit, tidy house that was kept in order. A rich smell of cinnamon wafted through the area as a motherly figure hummed in the kitchen. The door handle to the house pushed downwards before a bruised figure stepped in, rubbing his busted lip and scratched cheek. "Dinner'll be ready soon, dear!~" the motherly voice chirped as Xyxer proceeded to shuffle into his room, replying, "I'll just get changed!" 


With that, a slight insight would be given into the original nature of Xyxer and it's subsequent developments. Perhaps an understanding of why the boy felt such a need to be violent outside of outright sadism. Yet now, he wanted to know a bit more about the boy he may kill by the end of this.. he wanted to see more of Altar's strongest memories.

Everything was dark. So god damn dark. There was a light shining from somewhere above him, and he could make out what seemed to be... was that, could that even be described as a sky? It was something near pitch black and there was a godly light emanating from it. In the distance, an eerie red glow seeped from the same eye that had caught him in this genjutsu. A sharingan. Xyxer had a sharingan? How had...

The boy's thought process was interrupted by a cold, damp feeling. Why was he wet? The room... no, the street in front of him lit up. Why was he in a street? An old, beat up cobblestone street that he didn't recognize. His vision pulled to above, where he could see a silvery haired boy being chased down by four other boys of what seemed to be equal age.

Why did this matter? Where was he? Who were these children?

Of course, the chase came to a conclusion that seemed obvious, given the horror movie setup. The boy being chased had been cornered by the others, and as they slowly closed in on the young male like a pack of rabid dogs, it dawned on Altar that the lone child bore a resemblance to Xyxer. The nose, the jaw... despite being altered from what the boy could only assume had been hard fought battle, they remained similar.

The young ANBU watched, silent, as the pack of boys closed in on the loner. Yet as he stared down the four others, there was no fear in his eyes. There had been no cry for help or plea for them to stop. No parley to speak of. Just readiness for what was ahead. The result was a beatdown, and as the first punch landed square on the jaw of young Xyxer, Altar felt pain in his own. He felt anger among indesribable feelings. He felt pain as the group beat down the child he'd come to know as a horrid ruler.

And suddenly, he felt a rush of feral instinct. Pain at the top of his head, then the distinct taste of warm copper. Altar gagged, choked and coughed but no blood came from his throat. It was illusory, but it felt real. The teeth in his mouth felt resistance, and a tearing sensation he knew well. Before him in the vision, the silver haired boy stood, flesh in his mouth, while one of the four attackers fell, hands on their missing throat. The young Xyxer had just killed another child in cold blo- no, in self defense.

The scene changed to a warm and comfortable hallway, a smell of... what, cinnamon? It drifted through the air, seemingly carried further by a sweet, motherly voice. Only to be followed by one he was familar with, but in a higher pitch than usual. The young ANBU had so many questions flitting around his head, but they all died on his lips or in his throat. Why had he not yelled, screamed for help? Why had he murdered the other child? Was it necessary? Did his mother not care?

Of course, all questions were moot. He knew the answer to each one. There was a point to what Xyxer was showing him. This had to be where he had grown up, the original Kirigakure. A place of brutality, hatred and bloodshed. Help was a sign of weakness whether it was asked for or given. The strong survived. The weak perished. A life meant nothing if it could be taken so easily. Such was the way of the Bloody Mist. The same way Xyxer was trying to inject into New Kirigakure. He had been brought up believing as such, and it had been effective. Why change it now that he had the reigns?

Of course, the scene went dark. Everything changed in his mind. His vision blurred slightly, and he was a child again, strapped to a barely standing, splintered chair. The same light as before bore over his head, but this time it was affixed to an overhead lamp, a steady hum and occasional volt sent haywire from the cord. Creaking echoed in his ears. They never did get those floorboards fixed. Lucky him, really. Meant he always had somewhere to hide.

Light flared from a door open in front of him, kicked forcefully by a mountain of a man. The man staggered forward, bottle barely held in his fumbling hands, a sick grin plastered across his face. God, he hated that grin. The man made his way over to the boy in the chair, grabbing the back and tipping it backwards with his other hand. It was now that Altar saw the rag in that hand.

So this was what it was going to be tonight.

The man let go of the chair, the wooden frame rocking forward and barely coming to a stop before it was knocked backwards by the man's fist sent into the bridge of Altar's nose. A loud crack echoed in the shoddy basement, but no one upstairs cared. They were too... busy. Probably trying to fix themselves up the best they could.

As soon as the back of the chair hit the ground, the rag was placed over Altar's mouth, and his father took a swig of the bottle in hand before stomping on the boy's right knee. The boy tried to cry out in pain, and it was met with a rush of liquid to the rag. His nose smelled alcohol, his throat burned and his lungs ached. After a few seconds, the man stopped pouring, but he kept the rag over the boy's mouth, laughing as he tried to breathe through the horrid mask. In retrospect, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Typically the rag was stuck to it's place by staples.

The chair tipped back forward, standing again, the rag falling from the boy's face. He gasped for air as his father chuckled, that same stupid grin on his face. As the boy gasped and heaved, he untensed his left arm, pulling his arm back and twisting his hand around. If he could just get his hand free...

Of course in some sort of flash sober reaction, his father ripped his trusty knife from the toolbench at his side and drove it through the boy's palm. He screamed from the pain. No one came, of course. The knife was removed and his father freed him from the chair, pulling him upstairs by the neck and tossing him to the floor of the living room before laying down on him, feeling cracking under his weight. The stench of sweat, alcohol and pride was sickening. Amidst his shouting, the boy reached for his mother in the corner of the room, noting her absent stare out the window, the tear streaks down her cheeks. She didn't care. She never fucking cared.

The boy turned, looking for something to help. And he found it in the empty bottle his father had foolishly discarded. Barely able to wrap his fingers around the neck, the boy rolled it to himself, grabbed it, turned, and slammed it to the back of his father's head. Glass shattered. His father yelled. He would've loved to think his mother screamed. Blood quickly began pouring from his father's head as he ran to his own private room, brushing shards from his scalp and picking them out.

The boy, of course, sat up to see the horrified face of his sister. He got up, reaching out to touch her, assure her she would be safe for now. They could leave while he was distracted. They could get away from this horror show. She recoiled in fear and disgust, the same emotions mingling with hatred on her face. She spat at him, seethed, called him a monster. And in the morning following, she left, and abandoned him there to face the torment alone.

The boy left the night after, swearing under his breath he would prove her wrong. He would not become a monster. He would not become his father.

And once again, as the boy faced the treacherous trek across country borders, the scene faded to black, and all became normal again.

For a moment Xyxer had to lift his hand to block out light, an unwelcome adversary in this state. That was until Xyxer understood the significance of the flickering light that filled the room with a dim glow. His hand dropped to his side, simply held there as he quickly picked up on the room.. there wasn't much around. On one side of the room wooden stairs climbed up the wall to provide a platform for the host of the evening, a rather large man with features that somewhat resembled Altars.. a larger figure, with a bottle in his hand and a rag in the other. This must be the father.

As he descended down the creaking steps, his eyes flickered towards the restrained boy, the one with a mane of hair that almost covered his eyes, almost. He wasn't willing to ignore the situation at hand, he wasn't staring at his feet.. Xyxer knew what was about to happen, and he could respect that Altar had not allowed himself to become a victim despite his incarceration. Prisoner in body, but wild in his mind. Yet.. the savage could not understand why the desire to survive was not peaking in the young boy. Did he not realise how he could avoid all of this? All of the impending pain?

He was pushed backwards on the chair, tilted off balance. Xyxer walked around the pair of them as he surveyed the situation, attempting to see it from the boy's eyes.. but he couldn't. He couldn't feel his fear.. that was a foreign luxury to him, one that he had never been afforded. Yet it was fear that was the focal point of this situation.. the father wanted him to feel it, yet Altar was unrelenting when it came to not displaying such pitiful emotions. The lack of fear.. perhaps that was the trigger to the brutal punch that was thrown.

Thwack.

It struck the boy head on, and he was unable to defend himself from it at all given his situation of bondage. Xyxer understood that, the usage of violence in order to invoke fear.. to inspire others to worry about what he may do, to whimper about his unpredictability.. was this man attempting to recreate the same effect? He glanced back towards the falling boy, particularly down towards his bound arms. Xyxer was a combatant through and through, and he could analyse.. he could deduce what to do in situations such as these.. it'd have no effect, as the deed was done and the boy was younger.. but he could tell him what to do. Fall onto your wrist, allow your weight to break your own body and grant you freedom.. through pain, you could escape once the rope binding became loose enough to pull your good hand out.. You'd be free. He willed this to the boy, but it was unheard.. yet he didn't afford the boy his sympathy. The opportunity was there for him to escape.. he could have done it.. and then it started to click.

There was something else at play here.. he could have escaped the incarceration easily, whether he'd overwhelm the man was a different situation entirely, but there was no attempt.. he was willing to be his plaything. He couldn't afford to not be. Something was keeping him not only bound to the chair, but the building. The Mizukage looked upwards towards the roof of the room, he wanted to go explore and see what kept him here.. his reason for enduring the punishment.. yet that'd be spoiling the story. No, instead his gaze dropped back down towards the boy who seemed to be getting waterboarded by his paternal figure. It was off.. he wasn't doing it properly as the boy wasn't angled slightly downwards to allow the liquid to seep into his nose.. a true sensation of drowning.

Altar was brought back up onto the legs of the chair, much to the older man's gleeful laughter. His grin was twisted, it seemed malformed.. yet Xyxer couldn't place a reason as to why. Something was wrong with it.. then something even more important struck him.

Struggling.

His eyes dropped like a predatory birds, instantly focusing on Altar as he wriggled his hand helplessly.. this was an innate reaction to torture, yet he only shook his head. The opportunity was there.. and that was all Xyxer cared about. Time seemed to fast forward for Xyxer as Altar was now in the same room as his family, and his thoughts from earlier clicked.. this was why he stayed. He looked longingly at his mum, who in turn stared outside the window.. was it his mother? The boy's eyes suggested so, yet the lack of maternal care said otherwise..That thought was soon abandoned when the mother stared through Xyxer as if she had just seen a ghost.. for a moment he thought his cover had been blown, but then the shattering of glass registered. He turned around to see the messy patch of blood, scalp, and glass. The boy had finally done it, and that brought a smile to the lips of Xyxer. Yet it wasn't so fortunate for the boy.. his sister left him alone, and he left in turn.. what happened to the mother?

Cloaked in darkness once more, the room was now to be his own plaything, his own carousel of memories, or at least, what he'd have the boy believe.. yet he'd been truthful so far and that was how he wanted to be. He couldn't form a proper understanding with his ANBU if he couldn't be truthful to him, and from what Xyxer had discovered, the boy felt he could not be truthful with his leader either.. a disgusting display to be shown between the duo.

The abyss of a room swirled into a greyish pool which coagulated, before floating up into the sky.. the clouds hung over them as they shed their weight, covering the vicinity in a light fog that swallowed up almost everything on this day. Once again, they were in old Kirigakure. A silver haired boy walked along the cobbles without missing a pace, his eyes unwavering and his path was set. Little did he know the path he would be set upon after the meeting he anticipated, and how great his legacy would become. As the boy walked directly through the busting town, people spoke in hushed whispers.. a notable name was being dropped, one that caused fear in the hearts of many.. the Seven Swordsmen of the Hidden Mist. Xyxer's face was stoic through his motions, as it always was. There was no sign of happiness, nor sorrow, nor anticipation. The civilians spoke, and they were content with being but a blot in history books, only spoke of in their masses.. but the boy was not. He didn't have time to think like them, nor the desire to stand around and chat about this gossip.

He was a man of action.

The scene skipped through the rest of the walk, to reveal the large, archaic building of the Mizukage chambers. The original.. the one that many prior Kage had been hosted in, the one that Xyxer had been deprived of. As the young boy advanced towards the office itself, yet stopped in his tracks. A figure was in the doorway, one that wasn't physically imposing, nor entirely remarkable.. yet there was something about it. Folding over himself, the silver haired boy bowed towards his leader.. no words spoken. Upon rising, the boy noticed his leader repeated the action which caused a look of mild confusion on the future Mizukage's features.. that wasn't how it was supposed to go. The Mizukage spoke quickly and with a tone of excitement, very befitting for a child. He greeted Xyxer and escorted him to a trimmed field beside the chambers. The terrain stretched a large area in order to provide the duo legroom to work with. The Mizukage even spoke about using his bijuu cloak.. Yet still, the features of the boy betrayed nothing.. as that was what he felt.

Suzaku's skin started to peel from his body, cracking.. something else had started to take it's place as it bubbled from him, enveloping him like a crimson cocoon with a single protrusion from the back, one that resembled a tail.. The bijuu inside the hosts could tell which of their brethren it belonged to, Isobu, the three tailed monster. Wasting no time, the silver haired boy expanded his torso while his hands formed a variety of handseals, the product of which streamed out from his mouth destructively. A small ocean seemed to escape the mouth of the boy and explode on the ground, carrying itself outwards as a crashing wave, one which the boy was now riding. His chakra was controlled expertly in his feet to allow such freedom, while his other hand worked at unsheathing his heavens sorrow ninjato, which he held out in front of him with a semi coiled arm so that he could rapidly stab before himself.

Yet, much to his surprise, the Mizukage elected to avoid the boy by dissipating the chakra in his feet and falling into the stream of water itself, protecting him from close quarters with the boy. Rumours had likely circulated about his immense prowess in the art of melee, and that was why he'd been given this chance before all others. Chunks of coral shot out from the Mizukage, using him as it's source before they bulged into hulking obelisks that blocked off any hope of escape.. touching them would have unknown consequences, ones that Xyxer could not risk taking. The childish boy emerged from the water once more, but this time.. he charged a jutsu that was capable of obliterating villages if done by the right person.. thankfully, he was young and not in tune with the bijuu. The pure, undiluted mass of chakra shot towards the chuunin, who in turn disappeared from his current spot to one behind the Mizukage. Kawarimi was taught in the academies, and it helped him survive, a fine addition to his collection of jutsu.

Pulling itself out from the water beside him, a spitting image of Xyxer started to manifest next to him as the rest of the sea had been drained into the creator caused by the Mizukage.. had he been fighting the leader this day, or the beast itself? 

A simple hammer and anvil technique was executed by the two silver haired messes, a simple way to take down an animal. 

However, the memory would lurch at this point, skipping directly to the result of the battle. Xyxer was unharmed, and declared a member of the ANBU of Old Kirigakure as well as the first member of the reformed Seven Swordsmen, an honour he held with great esteem at that time, and to this very moment. His mouth lifted slightly, the corners creasing.. this was, perhaps, the most genuine smile Xyxer had ever shown. Varying images would soon splice through the genjutsu, molding together.

Black boots had their laces pulled and then tied up, gloves pulled over exposed hands in order to provide additional damage and defense.. then it jumped ahead, showcasing a multitude of assaults by the boy.. In one, the ANBU figure tore out a boy's throat with his tanto without a care as to his name nor his family, then in another he was sparring harmlessly with three younger people.. two of note being Rin and Kenchi. There was a particular pause on those two.. he felt weak for being unable to protect them. It was their right to keep themselves alive, yet Rin had not died in battle.. he died from natural causes; another memory flickered forward without much of Xyxer's will behind it, one where he visited the famous rooftop garden that the boy had made. Then an image of Xyxer sitting on the main gate of Tengakure, side by side with a boy who looked almost identical to him.. Kenchi. Here, he was actively chuckling and conversing with the boy, more human than he'd ever been before. Yet, that wasn't the final image.. the final picture came in the form of the quarantine of Old Kirigakure being enforced.. Xyxer gave a young girl a chance to reprieve herself, to return back into the safety of the village.. yet she denied. He took a step forward, and if he wished to, he could have forcefully moved her back in..

Yet he did not want to. His fist catapulted directly through her sternum, punching through the weak tissue to rip her heart out from her body in one brutal maneuver. He'd always hated traitors. As he pulled the heart from the falling corpse, he'd look at it momentarily from behind his mask of a shark. However, no clues were given on what he thought about as he stared intently at the vital organ, as he discarded it moments later before returning to his patrol of the village perimeter.

Now the room plummeted back into the abyss as the darker part of Xyxer became more apparent.. his true history, and perhaps his limited feelings towards others. The old Mizukage had been a good natured kid.. but he was too naive. That wasn't a good trait for a Kage, and he'd come to understand that not too long after the quarantine incident.

A burning sensation would soon run through the nerves of Altar as the Tsukuyomi's time on him lengthened; it's grip into his sanity becoming much stronger with each passing moment. Then, as fast as the hot wave came it would leave, perhaps it was a gentle reminder for the boy to do something, or perhaps it was just to add onto the number of threads done so the boy could put into a coma for safe keeping. For now, Xyxer remained in this abyss of a genjutsu.. perhaps this boy would be the next Kenshi, with a brutal end to his life imminent.

Everything shifted for the boy after his own vision, the 'room' once again becoming black. Before he knew it, it had swirled and twisted, revealing another vision that even at first glance was noticeable not his. Control had been torn from him. The floor belonged to Xyxer once again. The vision became clear on a silver haired male walking along a cobblestone path, hushed whispers surrounding him. Though Altar couldn't make them out, it seemed they made little impact on who he could only assume was a still young Xyxer. Eventually, after a spat of walking, Xyxer made it to an old building, almost cathedral-esque in the boy's eyes. In the doorway, impeding further movement, was a figure. Not entirely physically remarkable. Yet there was a power in his body that caused the beast housed in the young ANBU to lurch.

The young Xyxer bowed quickly, a formality that was returned by the man standing in the doorway. That action itself seemed to elicit confusion from Xyxer, but for reasons that seemed undisclosed to Altar. It was a mutual show of respect. Was it respect the silver haired boy had yet to earn? The male in the doorway spoke to the silver haired male, speaking rapidly in a surprisingly immature tone and manner. The boy's vision seemed to skip, and the duo were standing in a large chamber. The one unknown to Altar began to change.

His skin began to tear from his body, his bones cracking and his body in it's entirety becoming something... different. The beast in Altar seemed to come to life at that moment, eliciting a wince from the captive ANBU. The man housed a bijuu. The three tailed beast Isobu. How did he know that?

In response to the jinchuriki utilizing his power, the young Xyxer formed a mass of handseals in the blink of an eye, releasing a small lake of water from his mouth with destructive force. The jinchuriki avoided this by falling into the water itself. What looked to be coral or something similar... no, it was coral, began forming around the room. Before long, the jinchuriki rose from the water, a mass of dark chakra formed and ready to fire. As it was, and as it traversed and almost impacted the young Xyxer, the boy seemingly disappeared to a place just behind the aggressor. Hands and weapon swung, and the battle ended in a flash that left the true ending unseen.

More memories lurched forward. Altar saw boots being pulled on and laced, and Altar vaguely wondered if Xyxer had some sort of foot fetish. Gloves were pulled over hands like some strange innuendo. Another flicker forward to someone clad in ANBU gear, most likely Xyxer, tearing out the throat of a young boy with no mercy. A spar with three others. Two of them seemed oddly highlighted in the memory. A visit to a rooftop garden, surprisingly well tended for where it found itself. A chat with another boy whom looked like a twin to Xyxer. Both boys were laughing, smiling. This memory felt fake, yet the young ANBU knew it to be genuine. Here was the man he regarded as a monster, showcasing normal human behavior. He looked almost... happy. This wasn't the beast that had become the Mizukage. This...

This was Xyxer. The man. The mortal.

More fast forwarding, and Altar found himself staring down the tyrant behind the mask of a shark, the future kage himself staring down a young girl, looking barely old enough to understand her own decisions. She stood her ground. He stepped forward. And shoved his hand through her chest.

If he had had voice, Altar would have roared. His mouth opened in a yell, yet no sound came from his maw. She was a girl. A child. He didn't know the circumstance, but for what purpose could there be to brutalize a girl like that? After that memory, the room faded once more. Altar racked his brain trying to think of what justification Xyxer may have had, yet none came to mind.

Until he heard Kalamity in the back of his mind. And then, everything clicked.

That was the duty of an ANBU of the bloody mist. It was not to question or argue. It was to obey and serve. When you donned the mask, you stopped being a person, and became a weapon. You followed your orders to a T, to the death. When the mask was off, you were free to live your own life. But when it was on... your life became the Kage's to do with as he pleased.

A burning sensation seared the back of his head. The floor was his again.

The darkness lit with the false sun overhead. He was high in an open area, trees everywhere. A cobbled path lined with benches. A young Altar sat high in one of the trees on the far end of the park, book in hand. This was one of the parks in Tengakure. He had only arrived a few weeks ago and it had become his favorite place of relaxation. The boy had rigged a simple rope trap from a low branch on the tree as a quick prank more than anything else.

He didn't expect it to actually catch anything. Let alone anyone.

However, the telltale zip noise alerted the young boy that he had caught someone. Most likely one of the troublesome, noise academy students. Jumping down from the tree, the boy caught sight of the unfortunate soul who had stumbled into his trap. He was delighted to see... a full grown adult male. Attempting to rush to cut the man down, the boy was stopped by a baby dragon keeping guard over the trapped male. Doing a double take, the man was rather short for his age and status. He had white hair, graying with what Altar would later know to be rapid aging. His eyes were of a milky color, somewhere beyond white and lavender.

The man in the trap was Haru Hyuuga.

The memory would flicker forward to mid fight, Altar having returned to his housing in the trees, jumping between the branches. Haru stood ground level, looking for the Genin, back turned to his position. Taking advantage of his opponent's back being turned, the boy leapt out from the tree, his hand coating with lightning mid-leap. The man turned around, but a second too late. The boy's lightning clad hand pierced the man's chest as he finished his turn, pushing straight through where the man's heart lay. An eruption of blood would occur from where the hand destroyed the man's vital organ. If he had been someone else, he would have died there. Yet still he stood. And still he took action, grasping the boy's wrist and pulling it from his chest, throwing the boy a fair distance away. The boy landed some distance away, skidding back on his toes, a look of disbelief on his face.

And that is where the memory would flicker again. After setting, the image would be of the two, the ANBU and the Genin in idle chat, before the gray haired male unsealed and handed over an egg of some sort to the young boy before dashing off into the distance, the baby dragon close on his heels. After one final small flicker, the memory would display Altar in the same tree as when the ordeal had begun, book once again in hand, egg in lap. The egg cracked and shattered, birthing from it a baby dragon much like the one that had been following Haru. The dragon's scales were charred black, and molten lava seeped from it's pores, kept from the boy's lap by the hard shell and the dragon's own second skin. And so was born Tenebris, the magma dragon.

Like what happened with Xyxer before, more memories, less important ones, would flash in and out quickly. The boy's participation in the TNA tournament, followed by the critique of Takeo. The boy's intense feeling of failure thereafter. Meeting Youta for the first time. Reuniting with his sister in the plains and hearing of his parents death, the girl holding the boy she had once called monster as she sobbed. The boy's second stage Meigan activation, the jade colored eye staring back at him in the mirror. The boy hung by his leg from one of the many skyscrapers on Tengakure, his hands bloody as he tried again and again to climb the tattered, splintered steel line up the side of the giant building.

Finally, a memory of the boy standing in the rain, a greatly grown Tenebris by his side. The boy had a bag filled with ryo in one hand, and in his jacket pocket lay a bundle of files, papers and envelopes. He had just finished raiding Amegakure. A few silent words were exchanged by the boy and the dragon, before the great beast stood on his hind legs, leaning against one of the taller buildings in the crumbling village, pushing against it to knock it down. As the foundation creaked and the building leaned further and further, the boy called out to the dragon, shaking his head. A part of him regretted leaving that god forsaken village standing. Another wondered how it was doing now, if it was still under the thumb of Kumogakure or if it had been abandoned once again, left to rot in the rain.

The expanse faded to black once again, the floor returning to Xyxer if he so chose. Altar's mind was a vast expanse, and the best was yet to come.

Skyscrapers emerged form the ground in order to form the old, destroyed village of Tengakure.. no doubt this would be where the majority of the young boy's memories lay. A village that Xyxer had put to rest via the usage of his brother.. the Tadashi's had been instrumental in the fall of that once, great village that the moon itself seemed to bless.. yet Takeo seemed to always regret that decision. Xyxer didn't share the same sentiments as his twin.

Through the eyes of the boy he noticed a fashioning of a classic snare trap to a tree. It had been used by the boy himself quite often in order to apprehend prey.. animals and human alike. The fear seemed that much more palpable when they were out of their zone, upside down, hanging completely defenseless.. yet something told Xyxer that this wouldn't be the same reasoning for the boy's usage. No, they were ironically very similar, yet incredibly different. Cruelty had became second nature to Xyxer, with a hand in the theatrics of the situation in order to cause lacerations not only of the boy, but of the sanity. Yet here.. it was a playful trap. A playful trap that found it's victim harmlessly.

Grey hair spiked from the head of the ensnared individual and it was easily recognizable as a younger Haru Hyuuga.. how fitting. He was just as trapped now as he was back then, albeit in a more compromising situation. He caught sight of a mass of scales cruising through the sky around the male.. a dragon it must have been.. he always had hated dragons.

The next thing that caught the attention of Xyxer was the sparking of electricity that coated the boy's hand in a thick, deadly layer of lightning. It crackled incessantly as he dashed towards the man with his guard wide open, and found his way into the heart of Haru.. and that was something the Mizukage had to do a double take on. Did he just all out try to kill his friend.. and then had the audacity to complain to the Mizukage when he had given him an order to do so in order to join the ANBU? What the fuck?

Amegakure was soon seen from the mind of the boy, and it was a village that Xyxer had only heard about.. truth be told, he did not care for the village that hid in the rain. Bad spirits were rumoured to belong there.. the cackling of devils and the feeling of being followed. At least, that's what he believed he'd heard about that village.. yet he did not hear any devils when he slaughtered the civilians that belonged there. He didn't feel any imposing presence..

The space around them soon went black, once more and Xyxer was about to put his reel back on.. that was, at least, before a knock came at the door of the man's chambers. Altar would be unaware of this due to the grasp of the genjutsu on him, but Xyxer would redirect his vision from the male to the door that was swallowed by the darkness in this realm, yet entirely clear to the user of the genjutsu. It was one of the village guards, ushering a few words to Wraith and Jester. A nod was exchanged and Jester would step forwards towards the male, appearing as a jack in the box with the clown bouncing around in the dark world of Altar. It's words merely came out as chuckles to the boy, but to Xyxer he'd be informing him of the arrival of another message, and the sighting of the boy on the horizon..

It was time.

The demon spared a glance back towards Altar, the bleeding eye's stare now became as searing as ever, leaving a permanent memory of it's enlightening gaze.. a feeling of never being alone.. at least, for now. Xyxer would start to leave this world of darkness as he left the chambers, yet the genjutsu did not falter.. not yet at least. Altar would remain surrounded by darkness, alone.. even the figures of Jester and Wraith no longer visible as his movements in the real world became naught but a hope. Yet.. in the distance.. a silver haired girl waved over to Altar, a familiar dragon soaring through the dark sky above her, the voice of Youta emerging from the figure, "What're you waiting for, Altar? I'm over here. Dont you want to give me a hug?" Yet, if the boy was to try moving any closer to the girl in the fake world, he'd soon discover that the replica would always be just out of reach for himself, while she continued to ask why he hadn't saved her. Altar had been closer than he'd realize with his prior assumption.

Xyxer had been unable to remove the mask ever since the fated day he had first worn it.

[Exit]

Placing Altar in a comatose state due to 6+ posts in tsukuyomi (Have fun chasing Youta you p.o.s)

I'll do my other claims later

(Giving the go ahead for Xy's exit w/ inability to stop him and all. Will work on my continuation post later tonight/tomorrow)

The village had brimmed with activity when Altar had entered his illusion. Everyone had gone about their daily lives without a care in the world, fulfilling their duties to the village and socialising with one another with little knowledge of what was about to happen to someone they had once known, but they knew now. Ren's broken body was dragged behind the neon demon, his knees scraping along the floor and gathering dirt on his pretty clothing. His head would probably be lolling forward.. if he had one left. A mixture of coagulated blood and a dashing of brain matter marked the trail of the traitor as it found itself nobly escorted to his co-conspirator. This was certainly going to leave an impression on Altar, for however short his life may be.

With each step that the group took through the village, another set of eyes caught sight of the traitor. None of them knew what to do in the situation.. do they bow to the Mizukage to avoid his wrath? Do they spit on the body of the betrayer? Perhaps they should congratulate the successful hunt? Yet.. they did nothing but watch, mouth agape. There was nothing they could do that wouldn't tempt the creature. The Mizukage continued to hold the bloodied, savage weapon that had committed the brutal deed.. and it was clear that it'd likely be used again. None of them wanted to experience it's cruel embrace that broke the bones of many, and stole the lives for those more fortunate. 

As Xyxer Gyojin marched through the village, he was unsure himself on what was going through his head. The sensation of executing a traitor had brought much satisfaction to himself and the demon within, the bijuu had even offered him words of encouragement for the deed, which was rare for the taurus. His judgement had been fair. He could have thrown the boy into a cell to rot, but that wouldn't have got the message through to everyone quite as clearly as the spectacle did. Now the word was out on what would happen to a traitor of Kirigakure, an event that would be remembered for a large proportion of Kirigakure's history under Xyxer. However, it'd be a small dot in the stories they'd write about him.. it was up to his future actions to decide what they'd call him in the history books. Tyrant? Demon? Betrayer? None of them were appeasing to him.. but they were fitting. Could a scorpion ever truly resist the urge to sting? To avoid demonstrating it's greatest ability?

Entering the reception of his chambers with his entourage, his sister peered over her marble desk with a beaming smile as soon as she saw him, shouting cheerfully, "Welcome back, Xy-!" But her words were cut short when she saw the headless figure that moved behind him. Even without a head, the body of Ren was recognisable due to it's feminine figure. The smile faded from her face momentarily.. she was used to the rumours that surrounded her brother, but proof of his inner demon had never been as evident as it was to her now. Was this the true spirit of Kirigakure that her brother possessed, or was it the spirit that possessed him?

Not registering the voice of his sister, he continued through towards his chambers where Altar was currently being watched over by his two most trusted ANBU. His left hand twitched a little as he walked, Samehada resting on his right shoulder with his right hand curled around the hilt of the monstrous blade. The beast was out, and there was no denying it's savagery.

Even though nobody said anything, there was a distinct aura about the Abysswalker. It'd always been present to everyone who had come into contact with him, albeit diluted.. but now, upon the removal of a life.. the killing intent of the Old Kirigakure ninja burned as brightly as the raging sun. The ANBU that moved behind him kept their eyes on the floor for the most part in order to avoid looking up and noticing something off-putting about the male.. how raw chakra felt as if it emanated from him.. as the signs of a truly remorseless man became palpable, so did the fear of his subjects. The killing of the boy seemed to have made Xyxer come alive.. the psychopath seemed to have thrived on it.

Once they reached the floor of the chambers, Xyxer strode down the hall towards his room with the ANBU a few steps behind. In the illusion of Altars, the girl would start to split off into fragments and drift away. When he came to from the illusion that was dissipated, he'd find the body of Ren laying before him, motionless. It'd be rather obvious why when he noticed the bludgeoned skull and fragments of scalp that still clung to the bloodied girth of Samehada, and it was now for the true trial of the boy to begin with the executioner. "Why should I keep you alive, Shinkou?" The demon inquired, his other hand now supplementing the grip on the hilt. Currently, he stood about five meters away from Altar, a faint smile on his face to reveal a glimpse of his pearly whites through the blood of Ren.

Samehada still felt ravenous.

The boy snapped awake from the daze, his eyes slowly clearing, his mind pulled from the abyss to show him what lay in front of him. Before him lay a body beaten and ruined, head smashed to...well, nigh nothingness. However, the head was not what was needed to discern the identity of what prey the tyrant had caught. The clothes and the body were enough.

Before him lay the body of Ren Tsubasa. The boy was dead. The tyrant had caught him, killed him, and drug him here to make an example. Or provoke a reaction. Like a cat bringing dead critters to it's master. Somewhere in his mind, he thought it was cute. Surely.

But what was in his mind would make no appearance on the boy's face. The tyrant had done this on purpose, and the boy would not be provoked again. Instead, the visage of the boy would change slightly, the young ANBU bearing a sorrowful smile for a few seconds, before sliding back to his stonefaced expression.

"...I see." the boy would say, pausing slightly to gather his thoughts and lick his lips. "Because I only ever acted with what I believed to be the best interests of the people of Kirigakure in mind. You've subjected me to torture and worse, Xyxer, how could I be sure you weren't doing the same to any random person off the streets?" the boy would say, his gaze rising to meet that of the tyrant.

"You should keep me alive because I now know the errors I made, because instead of forcing me to live through ways I didn't understand you allowed me to see the old ways first hand. You allowed me to understand why you lead the way you do. The malice is gone, Xyxer, because I can understand now." the boy would say, his neutral expression not slipping from his face. It would be important to maintain a calm demeanor here. Getting emotional would only feed the beast.

He needed to tame it.