Subjugation of The Dark Guardian

The upper part of the Bygone Grove was a festering hive of yokai, and all this side of Valmasia knew it. Weaker magi dared not delve too far in for risk of encountering monsters that would rend their souls apart with the casual ease you or I draw breath. Even still, there was no reward to inhabiting these parts- there was no reason to come, even while in possession of the strength to survive. No incentive. Just pointless risk, a high rate of mortality, constant danger.

And that was why Arsenic spent so much time here.

Swathes were carved through legion of yokai singlehandedly with ease; Trees were uprooted and whether lesser, mega, giga, elemental, or Greater, they were dispatched like flies. His sword wasn't even drawn; Fists would do. Kicks launched monstrous yokai across clearings and sent them skipping across lakes like stone, necks snapped or, in some particularly brutal cases, heads kicked clean off.

But he wasn't here to flex on underlings- the purpose of this was not to strike out and destroy those who could do little to defend themselves- he was gunning for the big dogs. He had to conquer the demon within himself, and with it, he had to conquer the Republic.

Arsenic carves a path through the wood with Mortuem Sectis strapped to his back, and he isn't sure if he'll come back alive.

When is he ever?
(Arsenic)
[06:29:29] Was he the most dangerous thing in this wood now, besides Arimanes and Arariel?

He's left to wonder this when his most casual efforts make light of beasts that once terrorized him- that still proved difficult for trained soldiers to dispatch. There could not exist ego for one who'd experienced such tribulations- he knew that the number of magi who were greater than him, who still were greater than him was such an impossibly high number, a claim of being some sort of alpha magus at this point was preposterous. There still lived and breathed those who could dispatch him as he did these yokai.

What his concern was was that were he one of the most dangerous things in this wood, it did not bode well for the swamps in the months to come.

The list of Republic envoys he could not hope to best ranged high- probably less than he thought, but still high. Were they to emerge triumphant, it would require nothing short of a freak accident unlike anything the world'd seen in decades- or a lot of tireless, thankless effort.

As a man who had never believed in luck, Arsenic had set off to do the latter.
(Arsenic)