Call to Storm

Of course there had to be reminder of how far behind he is...

So many peers in Academy were already much better than Keitaro. They mastered advanced techniques, they were stronger than him in many other areas, and no matter how much he tried, he could never envision himself approaching their power. It felt like the most bitter feeling inside, something worse than envy - it's despair over one's weakness, that he cannot do much, no matter how hard he tries.

Was this even fair?

Why did people like him have to lose? Why the unpopular would always fall behind, just because they were less likeable than those that surround them? Even if this feeling was selfish, even if it spoke of the deep-seated envy within Keitaro, he didn't wish to lash out on that. He's done so once, and had to suffer great consequences for it.

Still...

That bitterness gave him strength. It motivated him to be something better than he already is, and no matter how many times others would put him down, he rose back up to try again and again. The fight with Percival taught him that he cannot allow himself to slack behind - so long as the likes of Elisheva remained on top, he had to try better to overcome them.

"I'm not backing away this time."

He reached out to the skies. Those hands, those terribly singed palms of his that called upon thunder everyday. He was restless in his pursuit, and would never leave it be, so long as he has the strength to carry on.

It's just who he is.
(Keitaro)

This time, mere cage of lightning and the field of influence would not be enough. He had to push himself way beyond of what's normally a given, and he prepared himself for that much; the Shenlong's blood was boiling at the mere thought that he was deemed pathetic and weak in comparison to many, and how much they doubted him.

In time, it would change.

The Gem of Storms and Lightning Core were drawn once again. Amplifiers of natural thunder, he knew that he needed to push new boundaries with those, to ensure that this is no mere lightning that he wields; it had to be more, something that could shake the heavens and earth at the same time.

Something to fear, something to respect.

The intensify of light that was coming from Shenlong's sparks was suffocating the light from everything around him. It was far too bright, but it would be something that he'd cope with - if not for himself, then for those that he vowed to protect. Just because he was looked down upon, he didn't intend to walk down from his path.

Wouldn't be doing otherwise only prove their point?

The first thunderbolt lands. This time, it's drawn to Keitaro immediately, and the cage of lightning begins to form about in the vicinity of Shenlong; this much lightning caused the ground to rupture, to energize the very atmosphere around Keitaro, but he didn't seem to regard the danger of this - he only endured.

Even as everything was scorched to darkness.

Roaring, the electricity surged through the air, prompting itself a dangerous force to not be trifled with. The embodiment of lightning stood amidst the chaos that unfolded with his summoned storms, ones made out of pure lightning, and the ground shook.

He had to push it even further.
(Keitaro)

The winds howled.

Through sheer supercharged heat and the disturbance in the atmosphere, storm was called upon, and the thunderbolts crashed all around Keitaro; but in truth, he didn't see it as anything which would be enough for him. These were far too random, to unpredictable and dangerous to be efficiently used in combat... what he had planned is to make a thunder dome upon the ground itself.

Each step taken would be a dangerous zone.

It was beginning to look like hell on earth. Thankfully, he was far from anyone to harm them unintentionally, and this would not prompt anyone's injury, despite such clear might being displayed. The power with lightning was birthright for Shenlong, but he struggled to tap into it at full potential.

Even now, it didn't feel like enough.

It's true, the entirety of reality was thoroughly scorched and shocked all around him, but it felt... lacking. No matter how much he pushed himself, something wasn't in place - something that didn't let him match the people he aspired to outclass so much. And he roared...

"THIS ISN'T FAIR."

"STRIKE ME! STRIKE THIS PLACE! COME ON!"

"I DON'T WANT TO BE BEHIND EVERYONE! I DON'T WANT TO BE INVISIBLE!"

"I'M TIRED OF THIS!"

The venting of his frustration was apparent, screaming his lungs out to the skies; the raw emotion present burned through him like the lightning he commands- his teeth were gritting, standing under pouring rain and the howling winds. How could he hope to actually be anything better, if he struggled to bend the storms to his precise will?

But...
(Keitaro)

The emotional push may have been what he lacked.

It's passion. It's the fire that others were able to tap into and advance themselves to something greater- it's the violence and cruelty of Ilui, it's the sparkling mystery of Aurora, it's the burning resentment of Thalia. All these people that were so much better at this than him, and that thought never left his mind.

It's the desire to be better, the envy he held, the dreams he cherished.

His body was coursing with electricity. Singing, burning from excess of lightning, it was difficult to even see him amidst the storm- the eyes of Shenglong burned with bright sky-hue, leaving him a single beacon in the storm.

And the storm heard his call.

Blasting him again, he endured. The power of pure thunder surged through him, and he allowed it outside- now, the entirety of area that surrounded him was covered in the field of lightning, something akin to a 'spider web', weaved out of electricity. There's no doubt that anyone entering this zone would suffer greatly, but...

That was his intent, wasn't it?

A new technique. A new ability, one that he'd develop all on his own, with little to no help. The core and gem he held onto were assistance, but none had guided him, none had remained by his side for it to happen. At last, he's done it, and the shock spread out all around, scorching whatever else hadn't suffered from the passion of Shenlong.

This was the absolute.

When the storms passed, Keitaro was left with his mouth agape, audibly huffing. The smell of burning and singed flesh was hitting against his nose, but he wouldn't put much regard in it. No, there were other concerns.

For now... he'd sit and rest.
(Keitaro)