"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.