[14:15:50] Metal clad boots drummed in the background, dabbling against the mud in a flower field. Suddenly, they were surrounded, tens, twenty different magis. Hercules meet them with pure strength, courage and will, yet they were far too strong. A Shadow swept over him as he dwelt deeper into the army, until he finally saw her. Raven black hair was let down upon her medium large body, and a glare of grey hues stared into his very soul. Her cape fluttered as he charged, lunging for Hercules who barely had the ability to defend himself. He allowed himself to guard her rather large sword, parrying it to his last breah-- fighting tooth and nail. Yet his spirit couldn't quench her strength, and instead he flew towards a tree, to knock it over upon impact. Eyes fell to slumber, and what remained was a vision of Citali, screaming in agony as Rex scorched him. That was all he saw, and a cry of pain was released during his friend's agony. "CITALI-" A Hand reached out in the air, yet the environment had changed. Hercules was within a carriage, he should have known that it was but a nightmare. Citali...where are you...? As he clenched his fist, the words were mumbled before he finally realised his position. "Where am I...?" The Last of his memories were in the last battle of Orphania, before their great flags fell. Slamming his fist down the wooden floorboards, he'd feel the anger rush through his limbs at the mere thought of it. Hercules mind was still distant though, and his best friend was the one who stole his worries. The Wagon soon stopped, and Hercules knew that their destination had been reached. Somehow he chose to remain in the carriage, perhaps his fate after all. (Hercules)

[14:24:22] The Harukean scowled, frustrated with how violent weapons could prove to be. Hercules, as he had shown in the past, was supremely strong, and unnaturally so for his age. He was, while previously no sort of threat to Eutan, especially dangerous when paired with that damnable, green-haired friend of his, apparently deemed 'Citali' by whatever hateful mother had abandoned them. From beyond the doors of the cart, Eutan glared, peering into the shade of his transportation and gazing towards the younger warrior with a sort of... sternness... present in his irises. They gleamed with masterful, Occultic power. "You're here for training, my wrathful, soon-to-be disciple, as you were some time ago," Eutan uttered, casting his hand to and fro in an attempt to surround the carriage with his zombie-like fiends. They marched with a hunched back and decrepit-yet-regenerative muscles, swirling out of their formation to encompass the whole of Hercules' temporary abode. He'd not escape a second time, and the helmed man was to make sure of that. Previously, the nine-year-old was much too... inept... to warrant a Sin. Now, however, Eutan was entirely prepared to enact that endless source of strength despite what risk was involved. A scarlet hue centralized itself betwixt the man's lavender globes, shining with an unearthly and monstrous light. It was surely peculiar, if not creepy and unnatural. He continued waiting -- preparing -- for what Hercules had in store. If he came peacefully, then that peace would be ripped from him. Yet, if he came with infuriation... perhaps that emotion could be built upon and further established as it had been in the many wrathful individuals Eutan had met in his time. They ranged from Ulfdyr the Fair to Nara the Ignorant. Thus, another rising would be no issue... (Eutan Haruke)

[14:36:19] Vermilion hued eyes scanned the male before him, it took a while until he had digested his appearence. He certainly reminded him of someone, and that might have been the occultist he previously saw. From that moment, Hercules knew exactly where they were-- Mormegil. The Heat that was filtered through the drapes hinted their current location, and Hercules could only scout out the nearest exit. Pupils darted towards the opening, yet Eutan was first to react. Two rather bulky zombie warriors marched towards him, hooking their arms around his. "...Hmmm." The Boy seemed to be in thought, as escaping out of their temporary prison wouldn't be too hard-- not for someone with his calibre. As his mind was taken by idly thinking and humming, he'd take the opportunity to gauge their strength. Far above his own, and so a conclusion was taken. "I only want revenge...to avenge my home, Orphania." With a shrug he shook the two guards off, leisurely marching towards Eutan. His lips separated from another, as his tongue uttered the words clearly for the occultist to hear. "I don't care if I have to become a monster to do it. " Anger was sighted within him, though young, wrath still brewed within the child soldier. (Hercules)

[14:46:33] "That is the plan," he said, allowing Hercules' dropping. The ghouls stepped aside and formed something of a pathway to the entrance of the Undercity -- a metaphorical red carpet, of sorts. They were entirely unmoving, save for the odd adjustment of a weapon or two, as they prepared for a rebellion of any kind. Eutan was tense, despite his cold, foreboding tone, and was almost eager to see how the boy would react to his tutor-in-depravity's upcoming 'lessons,' if one could call such vile things that. He writhed and wriggled in place, wishing greatly to escape the desert sun and begin their abominable, torturous feats. A single step attempted to start their inner walk, and Eutan's gait followed suit. The undead warriors followed duly, as well, retracting about the man and his evident companion in a cyclindrical shaping. Their line was thin, but undoubtedly sturdy, blocked together with the forces of inhuman strength and metallic armoring. Their maws occasionally split at the lips to gurgle and moan, but nothing truly offensive emerged from their numbers. Eutan, in an attempt to usher Hercules forward, said, "You will experience the torment of this world and embrace it, my boy, but not until you willingly enter such a hell." The gaping entrance of Mormegil's shaded innards loomed overhead with a particular sense of... gloom, in a way, as if to dictate what events were to follow. The Harukean, doomed to a constant sense of unease and horrorful depravity, waited silently, his set of orbules unmoving, staring directly towards Hercules. His glare was as solid as the very stones of the earth, their jagged and uneven sincerity burning wildly. The thought of spawning a Sin... it was a gorgeous one, though Eutan knew no way to induce the vile things without direct influence and emotion. Perhaps... Judeal was more aware. Whatever the case, he'd have to act as a catalyst. (Eutan Haruke)

[14:55:56] Somehow Hercules felt quite regal, as he moved about. Steps lightly placed a mark upon the sand, footprints made after his tiny feet. Occasionally he'd feel the eyes of a harukean, a glare etched upon his neck. Though, Hercules disregarded the aura that Eutan released, and instead focused on the path ahead. Once he stepped through that door on his own, it was over. His past life would be pulverized, and his sense of duty crumbled. All that for revenge? Perhaps he wouldn't if Citali was by his side, though no signs remained at the moment. Instead memories of the lime haired youth flashed before him, and they started from their best moments to the last, ending. Hercules still believed he died that day, though that would only further motivate him to take their predators out. Without his friend, there was no Valmasia. No hesitation remained, and Hercules willingly continued on the path of the red carpet. Eutans' words of encouragement, or rather his tricky riddles were responded with a nod. "There is no heaven without Citali..." A Dull voice, for an empty thought. His gaze turned for the ground, the weight of a friend's life still heavy upon his shoulders. Regret for the day, he picked a fight with the enforcer. Though he wouldn't dwell upon the past, instead focus on the present, and the future. Finally, a metal clad boot stepped into the caverns, as his body entered the dungeon-- Mormegil. Reminiscing his younger days there hardly encouraged him to continue, but he'd enter that hell again. (Hercules)

[15:10:27] Eutan, too, entered the depths of Mormegil, exhilarated as a result of the pressing challenge that Hercules presented. An eon ago, Judeal would have been the one doing this -- the one raising Sins and attempting to topple an Empire. As the Harukean had long known, however, history enjoyed repeating itself, and to no end did it do so. The corners of Eutan's mouth failed to curl upwards as they usually would, for this was remarkably... serious, and a sensation of sincerity washed over the sense that infrequently inhabited the mind of the commonly-ravenous cannibal. "It is time to start," the cloaked figure muttered, stepping inside as Hercules had before him. The ghouls of the desert tagged along as any would expect, their platoon deforming into a mass of followers and spilling into the cave-obscured city with ease. They were commanded by the will of Eutan, and forced to obey to no earthly end. Yet, they did not resist, nor did they combat their master's desires in any way whatsoever; nay. Rather, they were overpowered to such an extent that any hints of joyous revolt were crushed under the boot of a superior strength: Eutan, and that fact made him giddy. Inward, they'd journey, passing column of rock after column of rock, curving and swerving endlessly down each carved and natural corridor that existed as the basis of Mormegil. Every so often, a cavern filled to the brim with bustling, monstrous individuals would come into view -- past that, however, was a hidden land even more disgusting than the last. While each open area reeked of depravity as a result of the Stygian Murk, the presented, 'fresh' one was hardly even human. It bore the revolting stench of death and gore, with blood splattered violently across the smoothened walls. Central to the four boundaries and the out-of-place door sat a... chair, with metallic holsters on either side. (Eutan Haruke)

[15:39:28] Swing, swing, swing... Ulrik sat on a wooden stool that seperated his body from the floor completely, His feet dangling from it's top and swinging back and forth happily. For once seemed genuinly... happy it seemed. The child who usually had a frown or a scowl upon his face, had and eerie and unnatural smile, his lips curling upwards into a moon cresent. He held a talon within his left hand, waving it around in the air. He eyed it vigorously, as if it was going to somehow grow legs and walk away. He turned his head, over towards one of the prisoners within the cells of Mormegil's dungeons, having managed to sneek in due to the lack of personel gaurding the dungeons during this time. They were on break at the moment it seemed - and that gave Ulrik the perfect time to break in and use his talon on one or two of the prisoners there. Getting the keys from the hook it rested upon on the wall, Ulrik made his way towards one of the cells and tried out the keys until he found the one for this perspective cell, openning it up to the only prisoner within it's chambers. He was a senile occultists. He had attempted to make a break for it as the cage opened, but the chains on him prevented him from leaving three-feet out of the cell. Ulrik's smile widened as he approached the man with the talon, watching as his occult aura had come to life around him. The prisoner tried to lash out at Ulrik, but as he got closer to him, the occult aura around him seemed to be absorbed by said claw which was within Ulrik's possession. The occultists eyes widened, now trying to withdraw back into his cell - but it was to late! Ulrik was within one foot of him and had placed the talon on the mans shoulder, resulting in the talons pink inner contents to almost instantaneously grow at a rapid pace and dig it's roots into the mans shoulder. His occult aura faded and a pained grunt escaped his mouth. Ulrik covered his mouth, his smile growing, the urge to laugh manically growing within him. The man's already sickly visage began to detiriorate further, his cheek bones beggining to show more, his eyes sinking until they themselves started to prune and dry. His legs lost all of it's scarce fat, and muscle tissue had begun to shrink considerably. Ulrik raised the scythe and cut off the talon from the mans body, resulting in the parasitic talon to withdraw and return to it's hibernative state. Ulrik kicked the body into the cell and locked the door, beggining to head out when suddenly Eutan and Hercules came down the stairs, undead gaurds surrounding Eutan. He gulped ahrd, not really sure how Eutan would react to the death of one of his prisoners. His smile faded and turned into a stressed scowl. He knew it was to late to hide, so he simply stood there, watching him come down the steps with his sienna red eyes with the boy Hercules by his side. He tilted his head and looked at Eutan, the talon now withdrawn into his leather pouch. "Hi, Mister Eutan..." the lad pointed towards Hercules, "... who'se he?" (Ulrik Haruke)

[15:44:35] This was definitely not what Hercules expected, if there was a repeat button, he'd be smashing it. What the bloody kraus was going on? Everything went accordingly as they walked through the long halls, though one would think that even Eutan became lost. Instead he pressed on without doubt, easily finding a seat perfect for the child-- a prisoner apparently. Hercules gazed at it, abruptly stopping for a moment. His heel twisted, and he sure as hell wasn't going to be tortured. As he turned around, a rather bulky stomach was there to receive him, knocking him the otherway. Hercules staggered back, soon faltering to the chair by the zombie's power. From there the metallic clasps fell down, locking his hands down. "W-what..." He was insecure, stuttering though that wasn't because of his fear, but the anger. Fits were clenched, and a furious glare set upon the master Occultists. Chains rumbled as Hercules grunted, attempting to set himself free yet to no avail. Skeletons supported the metal that kept Hercules immobile, and the Youth merely awaited Eutan's judgement. "I'll kill you...!!!" Aggresive, and angry as always though that was perhaps what, Eutan sought. (Hercules)

[15:53:58] Ulrik was ignored passively, for there were greater and generally more important matters at hand, largely pertaining to the state of the damnable Hercules' hidden rage. He, as was apparent, actively utilized the art of infuriated fighting in his daily life; such things had been displayed openly when fighting him some years ago. Now, however, it seemed as if the cap on that strength was ready to explode forth and violently rip apart, only held together by strands of humanly emotion... it was saddening to see such wrath piled upon by needless restraint. There would always be room for volatile and immediate growth. When Hercules found himself locked firmly into the seating, Eutan followed through with an abrupt kick. It aimed for the nine-year-old's visage and contacted violently and suddenly, locking surfaces with the youthful countenance and threatening great suffering and even whiplash. The structure of the wooden chair bent ever-so-slightly at the applied force, but moving none, for it was deeply rooted into the rock below. The only actual way of breaking free would be to destroy the very wooden fibers that bound Hercules' limbs together, as well as the metallic bindings that had been strapped across his wrists. "Do you not wish for the forces required to obliterate your bound wrists and annihilate me?", he said coldly, a leer shifting downward to meet the eyes of Eutan's supposedly-lesser disciple in pain. "Do you not wish for the joyous power you need to kill those that downed you; to rip apart their unworthy flesh?" The Harukean's maw finally distorted into a horrorful grin, bearing teeth of surprisingly-solid whiteness and a bright glare unfitting of the usual magi. It was a decrepit appearance, despite how fresh it was, and bore the stink of evil. Nevertheless, Eutan was... overjoyed. (Eutan Haruke)

[15:59:56] Ulrik, seemingly ignored, he made his way over to where Eutan and Ulrik had gone. He brows raised, he got out his wax embued tablet and dulled tipped stylus ready, about to take some sloppy notes on what was going to go down. Maybe whatever was going to happen he could apply to his talon in some which way. Either way, he kept gazing at Eutan and Hercules, switching between their images periodically. (Ulrik Haruke) [16:10:11] Chains could be heard, clanking as Hercules attempted to move his hands. Yet the wooden fibers wouldn't budge. Instead he fought aimlessely, the mere sound of his valiant spirit escaping. A Sad day for Hercules, or rather one that'd see his patience tested. White and black flashed before him so suddenly, a foot jammed into the side of his ear causing a ringing. The Side Eutan hit with his kick ached, Hercules' ear flushed in a bloody red. "I AM GOING TO KILL YOU! KILL YOU!" Teeth were barred together, a gritting as he stabilized from the earlier attack. His body was bent towards Eutan, an attempt at twisting for him, but Hercules could not escape his fate. Instead he was to remain on his seat, that was before his master suggested an option. Strength, the power to break loose, yet his scrawny arms could barely summon that might. So he believed, and Hercules could but cure more, sending an arrow of spit towards Eutan as he did. It hurled in pursuit of the male's face, to disgrace him even more. All he could see at the moment, was but faint signs of red particles rising up at his side. They swirled about him, a scarlet color he'd never forget. (Hercules)

[16:20:25] Yet again, Eutan pressed his shaped-metal footgear into the visage of the young boy, and he pushed so relentlessly that even youthful sturdiness would feel the terrible pain of cuts and bruising. The flecks of a wrathful aura spiraled into life about the boy's seated, tortured figure, but the Harukean disregarded it. He fought with a vicious fury, excited to have found an opportunity to inflict his suffering on another. If only for a moment, he received the most glorious of feelings: relief, as torment was shed from his mind and coagulated in the mentality of Hercules. Eventually, however, sensibility arrived and the man understood what was occurring. He broke free from his fit of hazy torture to allow Hercules a build-up, of sorts, and one to himself, as well. The final bonds were ripping apart at their very seams, splitting and tearing with wild abandon, and Eutan knew full well what was coming. He prepared himself, a shield of conjured darkness building about his figure, as the familiar tug of Deathly manipulation of the soul pulled at Hercules' very being. It stood at the ready -- not necessarily initialized, but ready to drain what strength the pitiable boy was burdened with. "Can you really?", he inquired cruelly, "Can you even break the wooden chair? Will a chair best you?" A light cackle parted his lips as an... unease... took Eutan's mind. A wrath-empowered Hercules would truly be a force to be reckoned with, as he had experienced in the past, and... regardless of what confidence he felt, there was self-doubt. Amidst the building, furious power, Eutan slipped aside his purplish, cast-iron helm, allowing a headful of snakes and other serpentine creatures to slip loose. They writhed in the damp light of the cavern-prison, but received no time to rest -- there was an enemy at hand. (Eutan Haruke)

[16:33:13] Ulrik's eyes opened wide with what lied underneath Eutan's helmet. He wrote down vigorously what he was seeing, and even went as far as sketching Eutan's head in the wax of his tablet. He backed away into a corner of the large room and continued to spectate. He eyed Hercules, smiling a bit evily. This was great, fantastic even. This was a chance to see what Eutan was fully capable of, to gauge his power if you will. He wanted to know what his patriarch was fully capable of - though there was a tinge of jealousy within Ulrik. He felt so... insignificant. Eutan could crush him without going all out, yet Hercules was enough of a threat to Eutan that he had to use the full extent of his power to fight him. To Ulrik, it was like Eutan fully acknowledged Hercules as someone more or less of his equal. He gritted his teeth and gripped on his stylus tightly as he wrote, a sudden need to accelerate his research on his talon coming over him. Who knew anyways? Maybe this jealousy was enough to make Ulrik reach new heights, eh? This envy of Hercules aside, one could notice a bundle of stardust beggining to clump up around his body. (Ulrik Haruke)

[16:42:36] A Growling escaped Hercules as he fought with what kept him shackeled, a mere object. Eutan would proceed to mock him while he remained seated, bound by chains. Pressing his metal foot upon the youth's face, looking down upon Hercules as many adults had. The Same feeling rushed through his internals, filling him with blood. It ran towards his head, filling it as if his head were a tomato. Nails broke through his skin, cracking into the flash as he fought against the resistance. "AHHHHHHH!!!" He shouted, an echo booming within the dungeon, creating a shock wave on its own that caused books to falter from shelves. His mana could barely be contained any longer, and crimson tendrils soon swirled about him. It was the same form as always though, it had yet to evolve, neither ascending into a new form. The Chair remained, engraved into the stone floor as Hercules sat there helpless. That was until Eutan mentioned Citali, a glare rather swiftly pierced the small space between them. It was deadly, scary and filled with contempt and mere wrath for Eutan. His existence rumbled, and a storm truly raged about him. A Scarlet explosion occurred around Hercules, conjured out of pure depravity. Once the mist, and the dispersed dust scattered, a clear picture was allowed of Hercules. An Aura shrouded his youthful body, a flare of crimson energy swirling about his physique. Muscles expanded, blood vessels forming along their exterior as the seconds passed. The Pigment he earlier had was lost, and hair white like the snow was breathed into life, as if the reaper himself had arrived at Eutan's doorstep. Lightning cracked in the air, sizzling as it twisted around his limbs. By the tap of his foot, he'd see himself fly towards Eutan with a sonic boom at his disposal. Dust flew up in his trail, and what stood before Eutan wasn't Hercules, but a monster. (Hercules)

[16:55:24] The sheer power of Hercules' sudden, outward explosion was... remarkable. It was completely unlike the strength of Nara's latent abilities, as one might expect, but... so far beyond that did the boy venture that it almost brought about a feeling of regret in Eutan's mind. Had he done the incorrect thing? Was a weapon wholly worth it if, when fired, it injured the user, as well? Perhaps... Nevertheless, he need only conquer the threatening monster of a child if he hoped to wield that very device to its fullest. While it'd be a challenge unlike any that the Harukean had endured in the past decade, it was... necessary. So many times had the 'Reaper' visited Eutan on his doorstep, and so many times had the masterful Occultist turned that skeletal god away. Azrael was, as the man had explained to Ja'ido, only an ethereal obstacle -- something to be passed aside and cast under the beat of progress! The snakes that Eutan had been forced to bear by the angel Lillith spread out and hissed, as if willing to shake their nonexistent tails and rattle them endlessly in preparation for battle. Similarly, Eutan's lips spread to accompany a similarly-reptilian, low-pitch shriek of depraved, vile origin. His reddened irises trembled with enraged, excited emotion. "Does this make you feel strong?", he called over the infuriated storm present in the relatively-miniature room, books flying from the nearby cases and chairs ripping apart at the very aura of the two. Together, they shared immense power, split between potent magic and melee attacks like no other. "Can you beat them?!", Eutan continued, cackling wildly. Tendrils of refined darkness severed themselves from his aura to swirl about his figure and curl at the tips, outstretched and ready to receive a valid opponent; a frustrated child. (Eutan Haruke)

[17:14:11] Every step Hercules took caused cracks to rip across the surface, fleeing upong the stone paved floor. It was as if Eutan watched a ghost, disappearing temporarily with short durations as he charged for Eutan. He was hazy, and a thick mist conjured from ice accompanied him. Ice melted down through the warmth of his wrath, together they cooperated in symphony to truly create the Mist Akuma, Hercules. Crimson eyes lit within the mist, the glare of a demon fixated upon Eutan. His snow-white ponytail whipped about, lashing outwards as he picked his pace up. Not a word escaped his lips, they were sealed and but a furious expression remained. Brows arched down, as well wrinkles formed upon his brow. Teeth gritting together accompanied the furrowing brows, and the scariest part was his age. That youth was merely nine years old, and had already unlocked powers beyond what his body was capable of sustaining. Eutan would be the first victim to the wrath, having injured him already. The Source of Hercules' blood was him, yet the master occultist was not defenseless, but perhaps rather surprised. He easily evaded Hercules attack that soared past his head, breaking through the left side of his dark shield in a single attack. Instead it flung past, a clenched knuckle slammed into the wall behind Eutan. The Strength behind it caused a hole to open, soon expanding into a larger crater that caused the cobblestones to fall, one after the other. As his attack flung past Eutan, one would have thought that time was needed to regain stamina, but that was not the case with Hercules. Instead his heel had him twisting around, as a circular rotation allowed Hercules to face Eutan at his back. In pursuit once more, it seemed that escaping Hercules' wrath would crave a lot more. (Hercules)

[17:27:50] Hercules was a monster of raging combat. Dust floated on the excess of power shedded from the imperfect resonation of a nine-year-old's inhuman body and its inner infuriations, spreading wildly across the room with no regard for those that it conflicted with. While short-lasting, the battle provided was... horrifyingly-quick. Like air itself, the orphan-friend of Citali moved, vanishing in and out of existence impossibly fast. It was not neccesarily a result of raw agility or dexterity, but rather the forces that Hercules used when pushing off of the ground. They were relatively immense for a child his size and bordered the unbelievably-large strengths of the Sins prior to him. "Is this... all you have?!", he practically screamed in an effort to breach the nigh-tangible layer of sound that resonated due to what sheer forces were being exerted upon the environment. Every strike smashed apart the shields of darkness that Eutan threw up as a final resort, of sorts, and he could hardly find him enjoying any other situation more. He was on the cusp of deathly embrace, and that felling; that sensation... it was like no earthly other. Danger and risk lurked about each of his own attacks -- weaker offensives that instead sapped the enemy's very energies -- but they could only just compare to the blows of Hercules' empowered fists. After some short length of time, the fight had been concluded abruptly, the adolescent figure of Hercules downed by a weakened Eutan. The Harukean's armor was dented in too many places to count, and the edges of his bent plating curved and distorted at every axis. He was due for repairs, but no more than Hercules would likely need. The boy had found the powers of wrathful glory, if only for a minute or so, and that tier of other-worldly exertion was not meant for such a child. With practice, of course, there would always be potential... Whatever the case, it was concluded, if only for the moment. Eutan slipped on his metallic headgear, allowing it to brush past his cranium-fused headful of serpentine, violet-tainted reptiles and to firmly connect with his shoulderline. It snapped into place well and, as the snakes had, his aura died in intensity, vanishing from view with the tendrils of Lyperion Utovex' familiar sheath of darkness. There were no further insults -- all that the man had required had been supplied. All that was due now was time itself, and that would come, eventually. A proud glare brushed across the skeleton of a room, observing its broken nature. A heave escaped his lips; he said, "Impressive," and nothing more. (Eutan Haruke)

[17:49:10] A Thunder sounded with the sweep of Hercules' spear, roaring as it swept past him in the arch of a bow. Shock waves from the attack, sent gusts to shake Eutan's very core. Hercules didn't think, and nor could anything come through his thick head. Instead he was completely in a mode still as the water, darkness was all that embraced him. He could see, hear nothing, his actions spoke alone. Swish, it sounded like as the sharp, metal tip shot past Eutan, the burst behind it was unimaginable, and a second later would have cleaved the male in two. Standing close to Hercules was the worst, but feeling his eyes upon a neck wasn't any better. Their fight dragged on long enough, Hercules' own metal clashing against those of Eutan's minions. Sparks riling up,ascending into tiny flames while the blades scraped against another. "Rr-" Hercules' roar was dampened by a powerful, cosmetic attack. A Meteor that was hurled in his direction, making impact upon Hercules' frame. It sent him sailing away, hovering before he was knocked against the wall far off. Any signal of his earlier rage disappeared, a mere child slouching in their vision. Panting as his temporary powers disappeared and while his injuries reopened, causing his clothes to soak up the blood. "Huff...Huff." (Hercules)

[18:08:48] Power had been his if only for a moment, though temporary he still sought to see it etched into stone. Those were his goals, ot become stronger and then further utilizing his strength to fuel his lust for vengence. To strike the group that earlier tormented him, to rumble the world with his strength. Nonetheless, their battle ended and an injured Hercules was still capable of speech, partly. "...Stronger." Was his simple response to Eutan's question, and when it looked as if the Master Occultist had no more inquiring to do, then Hercules would be safe to leave. Slowly, but surely he managed to regain a stance, then proceeding to limp away towards the exit. More specifically, he'd seek a bed first of all, those injuries slowed him down quite a lot. (Hercules)