Exovaryn Haruke: Sealed

 Interesting... Malik watched at the angered Haruke rose, and drew into a power more than mindless slashing of the knife. He resorted to the occult, and surprisingly well for the ineptitude that he wielded it with. Still, Malik had power over him, a staff to amplify his magics further, and the Yokai creatures still under his command.

The boy was resilient though, Malik was forced to give him that much. He took punishment far better than he could deal out, nearly exhausting the Malpercian boy in the battle. When it was finally over, a spell draining away the last reserves of the Harukeans mana and vitality to leave him upon the merciless earth, Malik let out a breath of fatigue.

A wave of his hands, and two of the most physically adept of his horde of Yokai moved forward to hold down the Harukeans arms, pinning him to the ground and leaving escape an impossibility. "You... You're a resilient one... I wonder though, now that you're exhausted..."

He grinned to himself, and snatched a Tera by the arm. It was dominated by his will entirely, unable to provide the slightest ounce of resistance before Malik began consuming it with the dreadful power of Sacrifice. Sanguine streams of blood flowed into his arm, followed by a murky essence that could only be the creatures very being. Soon enough, the Tera was left as little more than a withering skeleton, while Malik was invigorated with new energy.

He approached the downed child and kneeled down over him, running the length of a Sacrifice claw across his chest. "I have an idea of what to do with you... Yes, though I don't think you'll enjoy it too much. But first... What's your name?"
(Malik Malpercius)

The bombardment of Occultic hexes crashed into the mortal vessel that was Exovaryn, withering him to his knees, forced to succumb to the aggrivating anguish, clutching at his skull that surrendered to the torment settled upon it, flooded with thoughts preying for escape. It was the drum of agony, of suffering-- And now, the Harukean could only wish for it the stop. The Darkness did not claim to him as an ally, but warped at him to the Malpercian's voltion!

The Yokai took advantage of the child as he struggled to keep up, though exhausted by the unrelenting force launched by Exovaryn, the aspiring occultist-- It was not enough, it was never enough. As brazen as he was, as willing as he was, as resilient as he was, it mean't nothing in the face of this personage. It was helpless...

The sensation of hopelessness began to seep in; One he'd begin to understand, all too well. The village he fought within, shown its history played out to him in his final moments gathered in recollection. A vision of sorts, though fear inducing illusions unto his own mind, granting him a fantacized perception of what happened to those of his village. Huts were set ablaze, and soldiers battled against Harukean magi, though in hordes-- Such quantities that the kindred couldn't hope to upstand against. It was a fruitless, futile endeavor-- And here he was, playing an echo in history in the very same setting, but against what was once considered fellow kin: A Malpercian.

The claws of Yokai, tore for flesh, but only managed to decimate what armor remained. It was then, that the Harukean was exposed; The transmunic tattoos were in clear view, allowing the boy to take a gander upon them and potentially identify Exovaryn for whom he truly was. The strange drawn formations upon the flesh were marred with alien inscription-- A Runic language unlike Valmasian standards: Xsperitan Runic Markings dubbed 'Fusion Magic' to those of the Harukean's kind.

Ebony sclera scoured up for the personage whom towered above him, basking in his victory; One of which resulting in the consumption of a comrade's soul via Sacrifice, spelling out a grim fate for the boy that awaited judgement upon the soils.

Now... With a cadaver rested nearby of one recently consumed in what he could presume to be a display of capability, the arm was brought before him, rollicking up the length of his chest-- Was this the end?
He didn't move, for he was incapacitated, damned to bare witness to his fate directly without hope of escape.

What Malik spoke of, sounded of the hints of impending demise, and thus he answered whole-heartedly, prepared to have his name known to atleast one whom would be his end...
The ascent to Azreal will not be, for one without a name...
"....Exovaryn.... Haruke..." He answered with strong pause prior, glaring upward in expectation of imminent death.

(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)

The name made Malik take a step back, finally recognizing the tattoos upon the Harukeans chest. The clan had been known of to the Malpercian of course, how would he not have heard of those that was almost as proficient in the arts of Occultism as he was. A frown creased his face as he considered his options... It would be in poor taste to consume one of a clan so similar to his own.

"I'm not going to kill you Harukean. Few recognize their potential..." He drug a talon of his right hand across Exovaryn's chest, thinking. "You were disrespectful to me though, treating me as if a worm. For that, I will punish and teach you respect."

He kneeled down further over the Harukean child and began to concentrate his mana. The arm he held was capable of many things, and he was about to test its limitations. "You should be excited. You're the first one to feel this." And finally he unleashed the thrum of mana.

Of course it had to be controlled, but that was the part Malik was now practicing. "It's lucky... You're already an occultist, which makes this next part far easier..." The magic sought out Exovaryns mana signiature, and bonded itself to such with ease, the Harukean blood working against its body in such a regard.

Now he had a target. His mana flowed outwards to the bonded circuit and latched on greedily, and a surge of pain would pulse through Exovaryns being. He wasn't being physically harmed, his very mana circuit was being attacked. Not fatally, or even permanently, but the magic was... Cursing him, impeding the flow of magic. He'd find his powers hard to manipulate or even draw to the surface.

Malik pulled his clawed hand back as a mark began to form on the Harukes chest, a perfect oval with eight lines crossing out across his mana circuit, the stygian black a mark of his defeat.
(Malik Malpercius)

He wasn't going to be killed? It was a relief to say the least-- A sigh in thanks to the forces of nature and his own Goddess was taken for soothing of the grim facade blessed upon said scenario. Albeit, he was not getting away from this, even if he was recognized for his self-alleged race and spared because of it-- The sharp sliding appendage that was the Malpercian's talon scraping against exposed flesh summoned a cringe across his visage.

There was the reason to worry about this 'Disrespect'...
Perhaps, he was still not in the clear... Perhaps, this personage didn't exactly take unity before himself... Perhaps this persona was not as much as the villain as he thought he was initially, but in such a case, why was this fate fallen upon him?

Mana surged at the talon's tip, flowing into the chestal region of the adolescent, leaving him to flex at his sparse muscularity and writhe at the discomforting sensation that embodied him then, onward...
The Malpercian spoke of this experience as one swathed in 'luck', but there was nothing he could percieve of said calibur... This was a cursing, but a blessing to Exovaryn. Not a sole feeling reverberated in silent song throughout his physicality without a sour note of his soul being played loud and strong.

This could only be percieved to the Harukean as a concentrated dosage of Occultism, a tormenting hex that encompassed Exovaryn with no hope of solace; No peace nor escape would exist without the empty void to engulf one, that was... Darkness. It was an unfortunate encounter, one that would breed the vile ingredients and factors needed to concoct the potent Occultist wthin the dreams and goals of this very magi.

Today, he'd die... To be reborned... Not of the flesh, but the soul. The body marred with an insignia that overlapped the Oracle's Mark, temporarily overriding it to constrict at his reserve, leaving him... Weakened, Cursed...
A pained hiss escaped his maws, teeth agape... But no voice to sing of his suffering alloud to the world. He had gone mute-- But the pain that grasped so unrelentingly to his frail figure, did not let up.

A mark, seemingly of Malik's design remained upon his chest, leaving the Oracle's mark to lose its opacity-- Hopefully to fade back upon the flesh in the future... Though, for the moment, he'd rest in incapacitation...
He had lost this battle... But it was the prelude, to many more victories... For on that day, he had grown closer to fathoming the gates to the Occult practice.
(Exovaryn "Voss" Haruke)