Terminus: Second Demon Mark Attempt

[17:53] Once again, Bastard made it to the island. The eerie power of Indras lingered closer, causing the beast's wits to be on end. Indeed, the power of a perfect was something it couldn't ignore - a threat to even itself once the superior has arrived.

Thus, it was in a frenzy to adapt.. To evolve.. To survive once he'd arrived. With Terminus here through his mana sensed - the elemental connected with the kaor in order to conversate.
(Bastard)
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[17:55] Bastard says in telepathy, Indras comes closer. The time of ruin is at hand..
[18:08] The looming presence of Indras was certainly cause for alarm. Surely, the Patron sought to see all come to an end. This age, to finally end...
But a Perfect Demon he had no control over? Of Atrellyan ilk? This was anything but the fate he sought to unveil.

For it would mean -more- than the annihilation of humanity...
Demon ilk would not be spared... Any and all it sought to consume were likely damned to become victim to its wrath and maws alike -- if not total enthrallment to its whim. Such dreams of divinity, squandered in naught but an instant.

With Varrach's bastard making their arrival -- presence known, the etheric presence taking to the isle clung still. Terminus was mulling on the matter, truly giving serious consideration as to the fate of his endeavors. Surely, this wasn't the end -he- prophesized -- humanity and demon alike weren't going to sit back and allow a Demon King such as this to swoop in and eradicate them either.

"Yes..."

"I feel it."

"That... And the humanity of the land preparing in kind. The powerhouses taken to the depths of the settlements are soon to reveal themselves to protect their land, just as they had during Ragnarok so long ago."
A cataclysm -- that Terminus was incapable of bearing witness to directly, courtesy of Varrach.

Typically, feigned confidence would callously project from the Kaor Lord, or a prepared calculated plot around the pending conflict. To this issue? He found nothing coming to mind. There were no means that would protect his mind, however developed it was against the psionic might of a Perfect Demon.

Quite frankly, no one had known the true depths of their powers... Not even Varrach.

Though, surely doomsdays have come before...
Many, many times before...

And every time, the collective of humanity, demons and the like would collaborate against it. Surely then, such an unsurmountable's foe's demise was simply fate then, wasn't it?
Though, their corpse would be mana-rich, a guaranteed means of ascension... Despite being so heavily guarded by that of every other prospect of and against demon-kin.
It was simply a death trap, given his current degenerative state.

"Though, such does not align with the Vision I see... Atrellya was never meant to prove victorious. No..."
Spite writhed from within his soul, across his mind to echo with every aspect of his being. Was his purpose going to be robbed of him? Were the sinners of Meranthe going to get away with their negligence? Would the End of all he sought to erase simply never come?

"I am."

A pause.

"Fret not. Like the rest... This too, shall pass..."
Finally managing to scounge up some false courage? No.
A fellow psionically inclined demon could sense the uncertainty within -even- the Kaor Lord.

After all...
Who knew just what -could- a Perfect Demon do?
(Etheric Presence)
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[18:14] Indeed, the Attrellyan Forces, despite their lack in conquering the mainland from the miniscule forces they had, now had the final trump card to end all life on the continent - the Perfect. The mere lore of these forms being the exact image Kraus wanted the creations to be - resemblances of Akuma - only allowed the elemental to imagine just what terror he could bring upon them..

A protégé of Mordred who already swallowed a continent while bostering a size as tall as a mountain...

The demon's heart pound faster at the thought. This was surely more natural within the ecosystem than out. There wasn't to be any morality involved - only survival. Thus, the link's continued as the bastard responded-

"... If Indras is to win, then all of life is over. This is the outcome we have wanted. If he fails, then humanity is far more stronger than imagined-- or maybe this is exactly what the lord of Atmos intended in the first place...

For now, I come with a request to prepare.. A blackout potion that should allow me to control and harness this power growing within."

(Bastard)
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[18:22] All life would be extinguished across Meranthe.
That, surely was correct.
The endgame of the faction would be achieved in some aspect...
But, just as the elemental was stirred into survival mode? The Demon Patron, silently harbored the same instinct -- though sought to shroud it through the lack of physical form presented...

Through the lack of anatomy to be sensed erratically running into overdrive. At the end of the day, there was one thing that Terminus and Humanity shared in common... Perhaps, that most Demons even...
They didn't want to die.
Such vulnerability -- while heavily insinuated across all existing entities was, not one casually shared amongst demons...
Most creatures, typically - save for humanity.

Perhaps, such was a weakness...
A weakness that fought off Varrach's curse for -this- long.
"A potion that shall strip at the circuits to allow them to refasten proper... Surely, such is within my capability."
A nonmagus cultist returning from a ceremony taking place around the nearby demonic nest was approaching the duo, as though silently summoned via telepathic gestures throughout the Patron's conversation.

"Lay idle. Such, shall be provided in mere moments..."
(Etheric Presence)
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[18:25] The demon did as told, lying down for yet another ritual. It's mind focused more on the upcoming event at hand. It couldn't deny it as this entity drawn closer. Quiet, the beast waited for the presence to operate, agitated and prepared to continue its onslaught on the mainland with intentions of adaptation.
(Bastard)
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[18:56] Was the nonmagus possessed by Terminus, or were they simply capable of committing to alchemical practices as well? Alas, they would return after some brief time. They were carrying...

A... Gourd? It appeared to be forged of flesh! Specifically, Terminus' own, from his physical form. The curse of Varrach's Death magic sought to erase his soul and degenerate his body, but as he had mutated from that fateful day at the Fall of Abendrot? His regenerative capabilities grew cancerous. Such cancerous growths that grew across his body were occasionally expelled as cysts...

Such cysts compensated for a lack of glass-blowing technology: Thus far, restricted to the creation of alchemical instruments and pseudo-cambionized human-demons hybrids in rare circumstances.

The nonmagus cultist took their place before the Bastard, lying upon the ground... Bringing rise to the flesh-gourd above their head. Their gaze took to the air, incapable of seeing their Patron, but listening to the psionic message intended for him.

They were an agent of the End... Spared of his occultic possessive capabilities, for their use was demonstrated proper.
"I recall speaking of my intent to complete my work with you.

The last time I had sought to ascend your form, it appeared to be only partial in effect.

Much like my Herald, I will take this into account. The inscriptions within your chest managed to set the framework as I corrected my theories.

Thus..."
The nonmagus cultist standing by Varrach's Bastard, tipped the flesh-gourd, spilling a putrid slime-green substance across their abdomen. It spilled over the body, coating at it. Surely, in other circumstances, such an effort would be a much more potent and miniscule vial. However, it would appear the Demon God had other plans...

"In the endeavor of manipulating your circuit, I shall brand your flesh with my mark."
So declared the Patron.

"It, shall invoke at the heart... Overclock it to amplify your magus potential. Though, surely it will come at the cost of some fatigue… Power, is all that matters in such circumstance."

The winds from beyond took to a sudden pull, swaying and encircling across a particular point in the sky above the nameless demon to form... A... Floating arm? Terminus was commiting to only a partial transmogrification of his physical form -- his lower-left, made manifest to showcase the artificial runework he scribed upon it. Within the exposed palm descending for the Bastard's potion-covered chest? Was a transmutation circle with runic inscriptions lining its circular shape.

It was a brand...
A brand that siphoned at one's circuit as it came closer... Its pull and ravenous consumption seeking to consume. Given the occultic taint of demon mana -- it was nourishing for the Kaor Lord. However, it was applied in a selective manner...

In a controlled manner...

The residual mana siphoned from the circuitry within was being used to singe its insignia upon the skin. As the contact was made, the fluid at the skin, hissed and bubbled, seeping at the gleaming alchemic spell in the works to permeate beyond the flesh... For the circuitry within. It would appear as though one was attempting to transmogrify their physicality directly -- an attempt at a claim towards Divine prowess.

Alas, the hand would be withdrawn -- Blackout Potion forcibly kneaded through the skin to be absorbed via unorthodox manner, and the Mark Of The End now stained at one's chest, gleaming of their own mana. Where one's shortcomings came before? The previous surgery that applied inscriptions upon the bone and heart alike compensated.

The goal? To push one beyond their typical limitations...
If not to ascend them here and now? Then, to empower them...
But it came at a cost...
Though, it was uncertain as to whether such was properly accomplished or not.

Would the mark even hold? Was it prone to breaking? One could only wonder...
It was clear that Terminus took mana from the demon as payment. Though, there was always a chance that he made a mistake.

Perhaps, the runework on his branding arm lacked the proper inscriptions for the spell to properly be activated?

Perhaps, the work thus far simply wouldn't cling tightly to the mana pried upon him for long before being dispelled in waste without proper ingestion?

Perhaps, everything was correct and the Bastard would simply sully his efforts by dejecting the altered flesh and regenerating from the effort before the spell could take hold fully...

Ultimately, it was a matter ofobservation over time.
"Arise... Your wish has been granted."
The disembodied arm visibly broke apart to naught but blackened smog, carted away in the eternal night to rejoin the transmutated Kaor Lord idling amidst the scene.
(Etheric Presence)
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[18:57] {Item} You drop Blackout.
[18:58] Etheric Presence's voice (to Bastard): In your travels... I will require you to pick up as many lightning attuned mana crystals and blue Azilaena flowers as you can. Such, is paramount to future alchemic endeavors.
[19:06] The Bastard kept its eyes on the night sky. The shining moon is a comfortability that makes the ritual even more at home. The humans are ignored, but their actions do not go in vain. Indeed, it felt the cold touch of liquid upon it, seeping into skin while the Kaor Lord worked his way siphoning mana from the demon.

As a form of payment, in return is a piece of the flesh now turned into an occultic brand through accumulated siphoned mana and own power. It caused the demon to shake as this liquid spread throughout the body along with the mark itself morphing cellular structure and limbs. Once again, these wounds would shift back into place and the raw mana of chaos would react in conjunction with this new mark. The liquid and mana infused together as pain shocked the demon's body, continuing to morph and bubble skin.

Some parts of the skin bloated and returned to normal, and the bastard's power fluctuated judging by the spikes in production of mana. The occultic and cosmic presence escaped it, growing.. Growing.. And growing.

The creature opened its maw as smoke released not only from this exit, but the eyes as well. The beautiful moon now looked a deep red, but..? Ultimately the demon kept its form despite the incredible boost in power seeking to escape much more than ever. Controlling the power proved difficult without a new form, and soon it would become it..

Only a few pieces were left, but would it have the time..?

Still, the demon risen with a stare towards its one arm, which now had some durability before breaking from the socket. A grin as wide as the moon's given..
(Bastard)
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