The temperature in the room could have lit a powder keg for more reasons than just the heat coming off of Grey. The two of them glared at one another like they wanted to take a bite out of one another’s throats, neither one of them backing off.
Sparks flew between them and it felt like the world might very well collapse into a black hole between their gazes.
At this point, Mauve and Brad both had tried to stop it in their own ways, but one would have thought that Amunet and Grey couldn’t hear them at all. They were too busy ripping each other a new one.
"FUCK!"
Grey turned to the side and slammed a foot out toward a couch. He didn’t even watch as it slammed to pieces. He had long ripped a door from its hinges and stormed out.
Amunet scoffed and then found what was left of the seating arrangements to sit on, crossing her arms and staring out with a stormy gaze.
Grey walked down the hallways and toward somewhere else, anywhere else. He just didn’t want to be around that woman and maybe not around anyone at this point.
He didn’t think he was wrong. Just because his enemies had no bottom line didn’t mean that he was wrong.
People who bit their tongues, held it down for the greater good, and didn’t fight back for fear of what might happen were always trampled in history. Then you ended up with the victors rewriting what actually happened and speaking out about their virtues as though they weren’t absolute bastards when they needed to be.
Grey was pissed off about what happened not because he thought he was wrong about what he did. Those people didn’t deserve to be comfortable. They deserved to suffer every ounce and lie in wait every day in absolute fury until he could come and take their heads.
He was pissed off because he still didn’t have the strength to get it all done right now.
Genghis Khan was written in history like some badass warlord who could do no wrong. He had probably spread his seed more than any other man in Earth’s history. Yet the truth was that his wife was raped by other men during his peak. By the time he got her back, she was pregnant with another man’s child and he raised them.
The greatest warlord in history, another man’s cuck, yet nobody talked about it.
The atrocities Japan committed in WWII made Canada’s Geneva Convention shoutout look like a footnote in a cute romance story. Yet now they were known for anime waifus and otakus.
America had literally dropped two nukes on them just to end a world war, killing an innumerable number of innocents and everybody talked about them like they were war heroes for that.
Everybody remembers the last parts, but nobody remembers how many sacrifices it took to get to that point.
When Grey spoke about painting within the lines and following your own moral code, he wasn’t saying that he was some fucking saint. He knew he was an asshole. He would proudly be an asshole if he had to be. He didn’t flinch when he had to kill his first person because his moral compass flew so straight and true that he didn’t bother with things like that if he had already weighed all the options.
What he couldn’t stand were people who were in one lane and decided to shift to another.
He couldn’t stand Amunet being his friend in one moment, saving his life in the next, and then backstabbing him right after.
He couldn’t stand those bastards at the gathering who supposedly gathered to select the strongest leader of them all, only to choose and try to manipulate things behind the scenes to make his life a living hell like he didn’t already have enough problems to deal with.
He couldn’t fucking stand the Great Udon when he had already painted the largest possible target on his own back, only for the floating, green, dick-in-the-mouth bitch to widen that target and aim at others as though Grey hadn’t already sent him a clear as fuck challenge.
He couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t fucking stand it.
BANG.
The walls around Grey caved away from him as a wave of pulsing magnetic force punched into them.
He found his way to a walkout, a balcony that overlooked the whirring land whizzing past. The wind here wasn’t as harsh as it should have been, probably because there was some sort of barrier or protection here of some kind.
Grey grabbed onto the railing, his eyes burning.
He had never had a desire to get stronger so much before. Sure, it had been there before, but never like this, it had never burned through his limbs like it was now.
He didn’t even notice as Prometheus flickered wildly within him, those precious red-gold flames lacing itself through his body.
"All of them." Grey said with a growl. "Every single one of them."
He didn’t know how he was going to do it, or if he even had the time to do it, but he was going to save every single one of them. Somehow, someway, he was going to fucking do it, no matter how many loops it took, no matter how many times he had to die.
He wasn’t going to allow that floating bitch in the skies the satisfaction. He swore it.
Grey’s fists clenched, the railing crumpling up in his hands like a poor piece of paper.
A small flame burned to life in each one of Grey’s eyes. His Frames, once separate and disconnected, starting to form a bridge between themselves. One after another, a link of fire was formed.
"I don’t care what it costs."
And on the way, he was going to burn down every fucking hypocrite in his way.
Starting with the Empress Goddess-wannabe. He was going to drive a stake through her heart and put her in the same pile of shit as everyone else who had pissed him off.