(OOC: This thread is post time skip and is open till we have a few people. It will close before getting crowded.)

24 years is a long time for someone to go missing. Yet no one had noticed he was gone. No one had even cared. Pallas was only partially aware of what was going on during those 24 years with Yorudan. It just so happened that when Yorudan was finished with him he found himself close to where he was picked up. Not much had changed since that battle. The city was still in ruins and there was still zombies and hollows everywhere, just not as many.

Pallas slowly sat up and began to rub his head. The last thing he clearly remembered was the slash across his chest where Yorudan had stuck the tranquilizer. Pallas became a little upset at this and wondered just what had happened between the time he saw Yorudan‘s face till he woke up just now. His head was so fuzzy and he could not remember much except for some pain and unclear shots here and there of Yorudan or his staff.

Soon after sitting up his head began to clear. Once clear he stood up and began to walk around a little. Once he realized that things had changed so little he began to wonder just how little time had passed. He figured only a few months. As he walked he found a mirror fragment. He picked it up and looked at his face in the mirror. It seemed the same to him as well. He tossed the piece away and began walking once more, keeping on guard for any signs of life other than that of the zombies and hollows that were around, not really picking up on him at that moment.

"Hmm," An old man said, a long curved wooden cane in his hand. The old man wore a pretty clean clothes. He wore westerners clothes such as ordinary black jeans, a black leather belt and a graphic t-shirt. Over that shirt and hiding that belt was a thick and heavy leather jacket that lacked all pockets but the inside lining. The jacket was black with red and grey stripes that ran down the arms. His clothes looked like they belonged on someone 40 years younger than he, though he didn't look bad in them.

The old man had a long gray beard, which trailed down to his chest, and had a long grayed pony tail that was tied neatly. The old man propped himself up on that cane, supporting most of his weight, and stared down at what appeared to be a dead body. The area around the dead body looked tattered and broken as if a battle broke out around here and it was not a light one. The scars were fresh and the blood was still wet. Whatever had happened, the old man was just looking down at the remnants of that incident he had been quick enough to see himself.

The old man leaned his head back, recalling the incident.


~~~


It was a being as black as night. One that seemed to reject the very dusk light that shone upon it, as if it were a living shadow. Without a word, it just stood where it was. It hadn't moved an inch for many days. Such a rare and estranged creature naturally managed to acquire attention. As it stood there, motionless, a certain someone sought to investigate it.

This was three days before the old man made his way here himself. It was three days before he caught wind of the Living Shadow. Naturally, being a feeble old man, he decided to make his way to see what this shadow was. Curiosity was something that he would never outlive and something that would follow behind him for the entirety of his days. It was the curiosity that was undanted by danger or company and one that would take him to a place that was likely going to end in the stolen lives of others. He was not afraid. No. This old man packed up what little things he had and, where others sought to go in a different direction, he decided to see just what it was.

By some miracle, or curse, a young boy thought to accompany this old man. The old man had long sense lost the care or drive to turn others away or pointlessly state opinions that would get him nowhere. This was a corrupt, twisted, disgusting world where he no longer had the power to see anything here as anything but like himself. Beings trapped in a wrapped, abhorred reality. Beings locked in endless struggle and cursed to drown in fruitless misery. There was a time where he would have been one to cause such misery and to deny the right of life of others, but what was the point now? His goal, the very meaning to his existence for an uncounted number of years, had been accomplished. He managed to grasp everything he put all his life energy into finding and, now that he had it, he experienced the first accepted loss in his life. A hollow victory that gave him nothing but an empty grief. He found a world that he didn't like, couldn't recognize, and one that saw him as not only feeble...But he was a commonality.

Everything about him that was special or strong or experienced was just a raw usual before all these other factors. All these other beings made his life goal seem...Wasted. Picture this. Wishing for your entire life to have money, for you were the poorest man in the village. No matter how you strived, there were others who did everything that they could to ensure that you would never have money. You fought them. You spent so much of your energy, focus, time, and strength to fight them. You relied on others, had others rely on you, and forever strived to reach for the golden coin to line your pockets. Then, suddenly one day you had all your money. You had all the money that you could ever want. Then, when you turned to others like you, you realized they were gone, and when you turned to the strangers, you realized they didn't even care for your existence. When you looked to your enemies, you realized they were just as wealthy, and when you turned to beings you couldn't relate too, you realized that they were the same as you. They had all their money dropped in their lap. This old man could only live day-by-day forever regretting and morning the past. He couldn't help but hate that he finally managed to accomplish the one goal that he had ever wanted...And, in the end, it was due to no effort on his own side.

What was left? The dreams of old felt dusty and ancient. All he could do was wander. Without the ability to feel attachment or care for others, he just found himself lost in an ocean of causality. There was nothing that he could care for...Yet, he still tried. Tried to find something that would one day interest him. Something that would make him feel that spark of amusement that he had felt so long ago! The rewards for his curiosity! He was forever reaching for that one feeling of success.

That was how he felt, but that one boy managed to change all that.
In those small, bright blue eyes was a drive that reminded him of someone. Was it himself? Was it a superior? Was it an enemy or a comrade? He couldn't tell. The boy insisted that an old man, such as he, could never travel alone and that and old man should not be traveling alone. Now, this old man was uncaring for the world, but he hadn't forgotten about the logic of it. For a young boy, with nothing, to take on the care of an old man, who has nothing, in a world where they could both be killed or attacked at the whim of a being stronger than them, who has nothing...It was all a horribly inefficient plan. But the boy insisted and the old man did not argue.

When they made it to that gluttonous shadow...It stirred for the first time in a very long time. A haunting Esper of ancient and powerful magic, the Living Shadow was of a very rare and familiar design. From dark shadows to flames, the shadow attacked them both. The old man knew at that moment what had happened and what that shadow wanted. He almost didn't care to stop it. He almost thought that it would all just be better off it continued on it's explosive path towards tearing him apart. What was the point of resistance anymore? In this world where everything was so different and so very much the same, he found yet another disappointment instead of the drive to continue on.

By some strong will, the boy grabbed the old man and took to the sky!
The boy was quick, gifted and no ordinary human. Calling upon the very soul of the world, he planned to use his strength to protect them both? The old man offered advice. Telling the boy just how silly and pointless it was. How the boy should leave and old man to an old man's business.

But the boy denied his request. Instead, the boy offered a bit of advice in return,

"Whether you are old or young, you can't give up on this world! No matter what, you have to keep living! No matter what, you have to keep fighting! I don't plan to lose to a bunch of monsters. I'm only human, but that's more than enough for me to put my pride above what makes sense!"

The words were things said so many times. Things he'd heard how many times in these desolate years? Humans especially were very eloquent when they thought to bring courage out in their own. They were strong, having wills that exceeded his own sometimes, and they were sometimes so painfully optimistic that even he, as old as the old man was, found himself believing in them slightly. However, it was not simply the boy's words that brought back a little bit of all those memories and words that the old man said himself. His eyes, his tone, and the way he put the man down and protectively stood inbetween the two of them.

It was stupid of the boy to do this. As the fiery avatar landed it went straight for the boy. The boy met it as well, summing up a handful of water. The boy should have just left. If he had, the flames would have devoured the man. Yet, simply because of a simple thing such as Pride, he fought. He fought even when it didn't make sense. He fought even if it wouldn't bring him anything. He fought even if, when he survived, he would have nothing to show for it. His pride pushed him to fight even in a drastic, inefficient time such as this. His pride was what killed him, too.

A fiery hand blew right through his chest and was quickly ripped out as he fell to a knee. The old man wasn't surprised the boy was easily felled, considering just what he was dealing with. However, blood burned away and organs singed, the boy grasped the leg of the fiery avatar and dropped to a knee. He had to have been far passed his limit. There was a hole in his chest that was the size of a melon. The flames, the heat...He was but a human. The point of fighting further was also because of his pride.

Offering a few meager threats, the boy managed to catch the attention of the fiery avatar for a single moment.
"Old man...Go. Run. I'll take care of this. I said I would fight and I damn well plan...Too...Win..."[/color] Managing to summon up a gush of water, a water pillar formed around the fiery avatar and seemed to envelop it a moment before crashing inwardly and creating a cloud of steam and vapor. The human poured every ounce of power that he had into defeating his opponent...If guided by his pride and nothing else. The way that human went about it all...Just awoke something else inside this old man.

The flames remained, unhindered despite having been completely surrounded by water. The fiery avatar blasted forward, quickly closing the distance between himself and the old man. The human didn't manage to really do anything to it, other than slow it down. However, no matter what the human had thought he'd due, this old man was so excited now. For once, he felt a familiar sensation he hadn't felt in 9 years.

"I was going to give up this game...But, I think I will keep this up a little longer. You can thank that boy. You can thank him for making me remember who I am, Cole,"

The old man simply turned around as a massive block of Earth, larger and wider than any block of earth could be, crushed the flames. The earth managed to snuff out the attack. It had lost a great deal of power being stagnant as it was, but the boy only made the matters gravely worse for it when he used all his power on it. Reeling on that boy's motivation, the old man couldn't help but remember the excitement he had those 9 years ago.

Turning to look over his shoulder, the massive block of earth dissipated away to become spiritual particles, all the same as what it was made of having been purely created by him. When it vanished, there was a 15 foot deep, perfectly square hole where the fire had been dragged, smashed and snuffed out. There was no mercy for it, especially coming from this old man.

He had his own pride that he found again.


~~~~


That was then.
This old man, his cane properly in his hands, was looking down at that defeated boy. He had tried, with everything he had, and with only so many words managed to convey everything that this old man needed to hear. It was about time he stopped moping about and pridefully committed to what he absolutely had to accomplish. In this world of nothing, he would return it to something and create. Create and recreation was his power and there was probably no one better suited than him to recreate this world back into the something that it was.

Appearing as just an old man, there wouldn't be anything to give away that he was anything more. Not even the most spiritually adept individual would be able to tell the difference. He was truly just an old man and, even with retaining some of his powers, he could die just as pathetically. But, now that he would put his own Pride on the line, he planned to succeed where this boy failed.

Being but an old man, Pallas would most certainly wander this way and see a few dying out flames and find the only one left remaining in the area still there. At a first guess, it looked like the old man was morning the young boy. Though, it wouldn't exactly be wildly jumping to conclusions to think that the old man was the one that did all this himself.

Pallas continued walking. As he walked he mostly found Demons and Hollows about. As he walked he eventually found what appeared to be an old man. He seemed to be looking over a young boy. Pallas found this a bit odd, but was curious none the less. He looked around the area a bit and saw that some sort of battle had taken place, or so it seemed. He was, once again, curious as to what had happened. He was standing atop of a destroyed building. He looked down at the old man before using his Bringer Light to get down from the building. He found himself using a bit less energy than before and began to wonder when he had gotten stronger. To him he had only been gone a few hours from the world, not 24 years. He looked down at his feet and legs and then soon moved to his arms. To him he did not seem to change, but something had. He shrugs and begins to walk towards the old man, wondering if he needs any help.

The old man turned to face the interested prospector. The old man took a step back from the young body and turned to face the newcomer. The old man had an expression that was stern and impassive at first, but emotion slowly colored his cheeks and a twisted smile came to life.

"Fullbringer," He could instantly tell. It wasn't because they really gave themselves away from ordinary humans or because he had a special sense to tell him otherwise, it was simple a hunch based on a guess. The old man rested on his cane, using the small little wooden object to support a great deal of his own weight, as he waited the boy to get a little closer.

"Come here," He would call, before turning to face the boy once again. He was not afraid of the Fullbringer boy nor did he inherently expect the boy to be afraid of him, even if the boy could somehow sense through his cover disguise. He expected the boy to see him as he was. The boy would feel and sense and see nothing but an ordinary old man.

"Young man, what can you tell me is the reason for existing?" He asked, an objective question that could have a wide variety of responses. He was looking for a few select answers, however, and wondered if this boy would agree with his own mindset.

Pallas kept walking and looked the old man over as he turned around. Once he heard the old man say the word Fullbringer, he stopped in his tracks. A multitude of questions began to run through Pallass’s mind. The main ones around if this old man was a Fullbringer and/or how he knew about them. It had been a long tine since Pallas had met another Fullbringer like himself and he would be so excited if this old man were indeed a Fullbringer as well.

Pallas had never been one to be able to sense other peoples Spiritual Pressure. He was never the brightest student and never really caught on with that lesson. He shrugged when he heard the old man call him hover. Curious, he did walk over to the old man. When the old man asked him the question, Pallas did not know how to reply. He’d never been asked this before and never really thought about it. He replied with the most simplest reply he could come up with. ”We exist simply because someone willed it to be. Nothing more. Nothing less. Now tell me, old man, how do you know about Fullbringers?”

He kept his answer short and sweet. He didn’t like to beat around the bush much and wanted to know what this old man really wanted and why.

"Because someone willed it," He repeated the words, mulling them over. Because someone decided that you were worth it that meant you could keep living. Perhaps, it was because someone thought that you simply weren't worth killing that you were still alive? That was such a submissive and weak willed way of thinking and, honestly, the old man felt that it was slightly disrespectful towards the young boy that tried so hard. However, he felt that it made sense. It made sense that, from the sacrifice of others, one could live easier.

"So then, if someone simply decides you should die then are you submitted to that finality? Is fate as straightforward as the path of a bullet then? Either you will live or die, the purpose or design is irrelevant; life is something that is fickle and is subject to the whims of a higher, stronger being. That sort of logic is the way the tyrants of holes carry themselves, I'm surprised a human would say this," Whimsical, the curious old man mused over the concept as he completely ignored the boy's question to him.

"I like to think that I exist, and the purpose of my existence, is to prevail over all things. To transcend the limits of mortality and immortality and become progressively more evolved. To that end, I exist to stand over all things. I exist to live and to become something of inexhaustible worth and authority. It is my responsibility, my destiny, to become that something that is above someone. I stand whether that someone is a comrade, an enemy, a supervisor, a general, a king or even a god; My reason is to become something beyond the end and with power surpassing the normal. But," Finally tearing his eyes from the murdered young boy, the old man set his eyes on the Fullbringer.

His tired old eyes were unusual. The deep set in wrinkles around them and the deep graying hair that fell down his face all seemed typical and well worn. However, those eyes were sharp and a blood red. No matter how feeble he looked or how tired he sounded, the color and energy in those old eyes was something beyond human. Something strong and resolute. The judging eyes that looked down at a human as a peasant or low income laborer. They were the sort of eyes a King might wear.

"In this time, as the world has fallen to pieces, would you say that this is all alright? Ok because it was done by someone stronger and older than you? Would you consider the fact that you are still alive as a grace from a merciful higher power and that you should go about your daily live hoping, praying, that they don't just decide, upon a whim, to end your life? Is it fine to be satisfied that someone hasn't decided to kill you just yet? This is the mindset of someone extraordinarily weak, especially for a Fullbringer."

Pallas stood and listened to the strange, old man. As the old man talked, Pallas’s thoughts turned to random things, mostly ignoring what the man had to say. As the old man talked, Pallas did look into his eyes with his own glowing red eyes. He felt it a bit unusual to see such eyes on a person besides himself. He was not really paying attention to what the old man said until the man stated that he knew that Pallas was a Fullbringer.

Pallas shook his head and could not believe his ears. He began to wonder what this man knew about Fullbringers and how he knew that he was a Fullbringer. Then another thought hit Pallas. What did the old man men by the phrase as the wold has fallen to pieces. He was not aware that it had been 24 years since he was last in this area. It was then he decided to speak. ”What do you mean by the fact that the world has fallen to pieces? It was just a few hours ago that these odd creatures have come down to attack us all. Also, how is it that you know I’m Fullbringer? I’ve not said anything about that yet. You seem normal except for your eyes after all.”

"Ah, not a philosopher...Perhaps I was expecting too much from you then?" Really, the old man was disappointed by this boy's lack of intuition. Not only did he lack the politeness to participate in this wordly conversation, but the boy lacked any sense of situation. Was he seriously asking a question that could be answered as easily as glancing to the right and left? Looking upon this city, as desolate and degenerative as it was, the truth behind the old man's words were more than evident.

"Misinference you say," The old man riddled over something so simple, so self exclamatory, being questioned seriously. "I'm afraid, boy, that I am never wrong. As they say, your elders and betters. This world has been in ruin for more than two decades now. As for my abilities, well, lets just say you don't exactly make it obscure about your existence," That was said, though at the same time there really wasn't any way to determine the difference from a human with spiritual power and a Fullbringer, was there? The differences couldn't be so vast that the old man, who seemed like an ordinary old man, could make such an observation and state it with the utmost confidence. It wasn't like Pallas were boasting his ability and, as he said, he hadn't mentioned it before. Yet, the old man clearly knew that Pallas was a Fullbringer.

"I think an more important question that you should be asking is 'Where have I been up until now', don't you think?"