Meditation 1

The Archon turns around towards Effigy once he had floated close enough.

Although with a typical expression of indifference that he's usually seen with, there was a hint of... something else, a new experience that Zaruma went through, and that experience was not something he particularly enjoyed.

Grief. Perhaps for the first time, a hints of sadness could be noted over his face, mix-matched with a silent fury and hatred concentrated on specific people that took valuable things from him. Perhaps that would be a fuel for breakthrough, too.

"Very well. We shall try it, then."

The young Archon did not settle himself on the ground. For someone of his lifespan of existence, he certainly held a lot of strength and power - especially when comparing to Tragedy, who managed to be around for far longer.

But unlike Tragedy, he lacked experience, and that lack of experience was what set him leagues below comparing to the likes of Tragedy. A lot ofpotential, but unrefined, raw strength that was yet to be set in a proper motion.

"Go on."

As if expecting something, Zaruma's crimson hues were set on the Mimic.
(Zaruma)

The false-archon merely takes a deep breath, collecting one hand from his pockets. It extends outwards, to the side, before collecting a dozen or so rocks in his telekinetic grasp. The float towards him without much effort, eventually fanning out around his head in a floating half-circle.

The horrid aura of chaos and dread clings to Effigy, sticking to him like a horrid aroma. It's almost explosive, the way it goes from being something that's barely there to something so immediately forceful. It is no mastery of the Arcane, but it is damn near being there.

"I will treat you as anyone else that I teach, Zaruma. Of those who have learned from me, only one has had the capacity, the strength, the willingness to truly comprehend what this kind of power is. What it can be used for."

His red eyes linger for a moment, the hand once more retreating into the confines of his pocket, but the rocks stay floating.

"Meditation is the primary keyto this power. It is why so often you see Tragedy "sleeping", why you see me merely standing about and doing what appears to be nothing. You take your hatred, your rage, all the emotion that's built up inside of you, and you turn it into something useful."

He smirks, just barely.

"'Tis why Demons are such an enigma. You feel things differently than we do. But, ah, I digress. You probably don't need a lesson- I'm sure you know how this all works, anyway. Sit down and prepare yourself. I'll explain how this is going to work once you're in position."

He motions to the center of the 'fairy ring' they found themselves in.
(Effigy)

Zaruma knew very well on the differences that Demons and humans held.

And it is why he only thought that it should be... easier, for the likes of him. His very nature was that of Chaos, and to obtain a proper guidance in this field would only mean that he'd ascend relatively fast to grasp the power of Chaos.

That it would be only a matter of time. Perhaps, he's yet in for surprise.

"I do not expect you to treat me any different on this matter. I expect results, and results only."

A technocratic approach as always, but the Archon knew that he's ought to focus on his emotions at least for once instead of any blunt merit or benefit. It wasn't the way to unlock the Arcane, otherwise.

Carefully floating over to the center of the ring, Zaruma lowered himself down, no longer defying the gravity. He positioned himself appropriately for such session, his eyes shifting towards the Mimic.

"I know how it goes. Let's begin."
(Zaruma)

As soon as the Archon touched the ground, Effigy would simply begin to walk. He was slow and deliberate, footfalls barely making a noise as he made a circle about Zaruma with a snail's pace. His red eyes levelled upon him, and he grins.

"The Arcane is an extension of your will. It is the power, without magic, to bend the world around you. To force it to comply to your power, to your demands."

A singular rock floats forwards, landing in the Mimic's hand. He inhales, sharply.

"I am going to throw stones. It seems foolish, I'm aware, but bear with me, here. Each of these rocks, especially given your magic and sheer strength, should be easily deflected without worry. But there will be times where I do not throw a stone, where it is merely a wave of my telekinetic energy."

He hums, quietly.

"The object of this is to block a single one. To see it coming, to feel it's power, and redirect it elsewhere. A simple task, but one that I see people failing again and again. The rocks are merely a diversion."

--Without warning, the Mimic actually lobs a rock forwards, aimed directly for Zaruma's center of mass. It whistles through the air loudly, and obviously, but it might've been sudden enough to catch him off guard.

"Plus, they make me feel good, hitting people with rocks. Eheh."
(Effigy)

An extension of your will.

That made the Archon think, reflect on what he had done so far, what he accomplished, and what he wishes to accomplish now.

All the ambition he ever lived through. To rise his people from being mere guests in cities that belong to humans, to gather his kin under same place and expand, to grow one's Empire, to prove the Umbral Lords wrong for what they had done to him.

And now, to make Jianghu kneel. To make every single traitor pay with their blood, their life, for every single time they had wronged him.

To kill Hatsune Panic, for her loathsome nature.

"This--"

That raw strength, that raw power of an Archon was certainly showing. Compelling, threatening, intimidating - it was the power, the dread that commanded to murder, to slaughter, to torture and kill anyone who stood in his path.

The perfection of Chaos. Strong, but unrefined.

This reflection is what allowed Zaruma to amass the strength to almost bend the will to his own. It was that will to kill everyone that defied him--

And that much was displayed through the sparkle of his crimson gaze. His expression- a portrayal of pure hatred, distaste, loathing. The sudden stone did catch him off guard, but there was something else that reacted for Zaruma.

It was not stopped entirely. The thrown stone touched him, but the moment it did, it was suddenly pushed away, almost shot away, with how repulsive and disgusting it seemed to the Archon.

In that stone, in the imagery of the world, he saw nothing but the vile faces of everyone he wishes to bring to their suffering.

"These miserable-- wretches."

Zaruma was onto something. The power coursed him, but it was yet taking a proper shape.
(Zaruma)

The first stone deflected, there's a wry smirk that forms on Effigy's lips. Of course, an Archon, a Leader, like Zaruma would have no issue with this type of thing. Fine, then, that was all well and dandy.

Time to push this forwards.

His head twitches, casting the rest of the rocks to fall to the ground around him with dull thuds. He slowly watches the Archon, red eyes serious and calm despite the smirk on his lips.

"And think about it, Zaruma. How many people have done you wrong? How many hate you for what you are? You're a Leader. A ruler. A conqueror."

A telekinetic bolt is shot forwards, invisible and silent. If Zaruma was focusing rather intently, there might be a slight disturbance before it made contact, a feeling of dread and hatred. Subtle, but it was there, a slight trickle of something that should not exist lingering in the air.

..And if that bolt hit, it would really fucking /hurt/.

"You're a God to some people. Many know ME as one of the strongest people in Agartha, and you can throw me aside like a misbehaving child. We both know if you wanted someone dead, they WOULD be dead. And they'd stay that way."

He laughs, quietly.

"Why let them boss you around? Why let anyone defy your will? Agartha could be yours, you know."

He inhales, slowly.

"You just have to take it."
(Effigy)

All of them. All of the people that did him wrong - they all could be dead.

Oh, yes, that thought fuelled his psyche. It fed him, it tasted like an immeasurable sweetness, an ecstasy overwhelming him; a feeling of being truly alive, truly feeling the accomplishment that he desired, that he longed for so much.

Zaruma was in a trance. Despite his eyes being still open, he allowed the gates of his mind to be much more susceptible to influence of surroundings - no more he would shut off that tingling feeling of something otherworldly that surrounded him, no more he would shut off what he felt.

Instead, he embraced it, with open arms too. His eyes closed for a moment.

"They must die-- if I want to rule this..."

"If I were to show them-- what Archons truly hold, truly possess, the strength in their arms would look--"

"Like a child's toy."

The Archon'seyes suddenly opened instead, meeting the telekinetic bolt with immediate, powerful, overwhelming resistance. It was a build up, an emotional climax of the rage, the hatred, all the negativity that he held towards everyone who did him wrong--

All of it released in a single attack. No, he would not be on the defense to deflect that bolt, instead assaulting it with his own psychic strength, projecting his willpower into the very reality.

The aggression that flooded his mind would not allow otherwise.

"These pathetic excuses of a lifeform... I will make them regret being born."
(Zaruma)

The trance was slowly fading.

There was a tingling sensation of something changing within him, a feeling that was familiar to him, yet so much more vivid this time. With that power lingering within his heart that beats with naught but the pure Occult energy, he at last stood up.

Floating, rather. Rising, much like something divine, otherworldly on his own accord; he stares at what he just did, the Archon's expression soon turning from surprised to satisfied. The goal of this meditation was accomplished, and he did make some progress.

"Yes-- we shall. Those rats, those pitiful fools that defy me..."

"All of them will be crushed, slain, killed. None will survive, not anymore."

He inhaled, closing his eyes. Standing still for a moment, the Archon's eyes opened once more, releasing something akin to an invisible shockwave around himself. It was something different from what Zaruma could pull off previously.

The reality itself was twisting and bending around him.

"I feel... different."

"This change... is good."
(Zaruma)