Post by Grisha on Oct 4, 2020 13:51:23 GMT -8
PL: 5,728
Grisha had felt slightly lonely when he was out hunting. He had enjoyed having his brother around hunting with him. He had been the first being he encountered who had made him realize that there were others like him out there somewhere and that the world was larger than the island he had awakened on. Grisha was standing in the snowy waste, staring up at the clouds that always blanketed the sky over the island. After traveling around to the other islands, his conscience felt as though it had broadened extensively. The world was enormous, and he had only seen a piece of it. As he had learned from his visit to Training Island, if he was to really grow stronger, then he needed to experience it—all of it.
Chirp, chirp, chirp!
Grisha’s eyes lowered from the sky to a pink, feathered bird creature. He had never seen such a creature on the island before, telling by the size of its thighs, it looked like it made for some nice drum stick. The Saiyan grinned and spread his arms as he took on a predatory stance. The pink chicken scratched at the snow before it raised its head to gaze over at the predator it detected. With a wark, the chicken thrust its neck out and bolted. Grisha giggled in excitement before he followed the bird in swift pursuit. The creature was fast because it was light-weight and its feet barely touched the ground. It didn’t sink in the snow. It ran on its fluffy surface as though it were a feather. No matter; Grisha was determined to capture it. It was so exotic, he wanted to taste its meat.
As he followed the creature, Grisha noticed a few hundreds of meters ahead more pink specks. The bird was leading him to the flock. His lips parted, flashing a hungry grin. He paced behind the ostrich creature. As he neared the flock, the birds started running, but not because they sensed him. No; they sensed something more heinous, and he got to see it. The creature galloped like an ape upon its knuckles and human-like feet. Its shaggy layers of snow-white fur flapped against its rippling muscles. The beast had multiple arms—it was a mutated freak. A bone-like skull protruded from its face in a mask that would give anyone nightmares. But this creature was not unfamiliar to him. In fact, Grisha thought he had killed it for its skull he had crafted into a helm.
It was back…The White Devil. Grisha’s face contorted with anger and disturbance. This wasn’t the same White Devil he had killed. This one had four arms and was much larger. Could it have been the offspring? Were there more? And it inhabited the same island as his home. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.
The mutant freak started grabbing chickens within its multiple mitts and before it could toss one into its mouth, Grisha sprinted forth and jumped into the air. He swung his right leg around, the instep of his foot colliding with the beast’s jaw. The kick had been thunderous, the sound of it emanated, and caused the creature’s head to quake from the impact. Its arms limply dropped as it took one unsteady step back. Grisha landed and slid across the snow. He planted his fingers into the ground to slow his slide as whirled around to face the beast, watching as the freed chickens fled from it.
The White Devil turned to gaze upon Grisha. Its jaw hung loosely; its six-inch, black, tongue dangling down its chest. The creature’s black eyes widened upon noticing the helm Grisha wore as though recognizing the skull it was crafted from. It grasped its jaw and with an unsettling crackle, reattached it to its face. Its tongue retracted back behind its oni-like teeth as a white plume left its throat, following it was the hollow rumble of something unnatural.
The two stared each other down—steel-grey eyes against moon-like halos amidst a backdrop of black sclera. Its massive fists settled upon the icy ground, bearing all of its weight. Grisha slowly raised his hand, bringing it to his helm as he removed it and placed it upon the snow. His hand then rose to his cloak to unclasp it, allowing it to drop from his shoulders. The villagers said that he had defeated The White Devil with a scream. He figured that he must have caught the creature off-guard for he hadn’t recalled the memory. Now, he had to face it. The creature’s eyes glanced between the skull helm and Grisha. Its lips rolled back, baring its teeth. It tossed its head in a fit that resembled rage as a haunting scream left its mouth. Rearing back on its feet, the yeti raised its fists and pounded its thick chest like a drum before dropping them and shrieking at Grisha. Grisha threw wide his arms, splaying his fingers, as he bellowed:
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