Talons of War

Upon a hurdle they rise; upon a cradle do they kiss; and upon a blanket of hopes and dreams do they lay. It was through a hierarchy of petty imitators that they had arrived, into the torn abyss to once more commend the brutality of war; the very thought of which was quite familiar to them, bringing them ease and comfort when the others would have only dreaded terror. Ambient were they, in their desires to conquer one another —for this was how the Dragons greeted one another to begin with, and who better to fulfill each of their legacies than their very own children?

The time for one final clash had come at long last, with the title of none other than King on the line. What would befall them next? They knew not. What they did have knowledge of, however, suddenly no longer pertained to them. All that mattered now was victory, anything less would be perceived as failure.

The journey to the peak continues.

Talons of War
In fear does the sky trifle above the clouds, coursing its existence in shame and dishonor. Yet it will never acknowledge such feelings, for it believes it self to be superior —however arrogant it may be— even among the most patent of indications. For this reason does it ascend beyond those very same clouds, all for the sole purpose of appearing triumphant, as that much is enough to fulfill the emptiness within its heart. To the gods does it beckon, speaking ill of that which lies below; it makes a mockery of the trees, the waters, the mountains, when clearly, they are made to serve functions beyond its own.

The sky which denies skill, clinging to smug aspirations of fame, oh how Jiretto Ekuseru despised such a scoundrel. It was no different than the clowns who spoke ill behind one's back, so swift were they in their celebration! Yet what had they truly accomplished? Was it not he who had garnered the right to flicker his tail about? Was it not he who had proven himself battle upon battle? Even still did he not speak; even still did he not commend his efforts, for he cared little for renown. He was not one to underestimate his opponents, nor was he one to quite suddenly foresee himself as being above them. Fools who bathed in ignorance would not be awarded his pardon.

Serene was he, standing at the core of a ghost town flustered with primitive scrapers. Quite evidently, they were the remains of a previous battle; they had already etched their role in history akin to ancient artifacts, though now they would persist once more for another. For once had the blue-haired man kept his eyes open, in anticipation of not a single enemy, but rather, a sweet couple, this time around. Those that had suddenly sought to prove themselves against him, when in truth, their prerogatives should have lied within the greater goods.