A dark figure in a black velvet seat leaned against the back of their chair. The creases in their white robe fell faintly along their form, lines mending to a straightened appearance. The dark room was lit by a single candle, flickering mutely on the wooden floor. Their hand raised unhurriedly, their fingers digging beneath the creased-edge of their hood. Their thumbs pushed back against the cloth, slumping the baggy hood from their head and over their shoulders. As the hood shifted, their white hair poured out of the cloth and settled, reaching just under their ears. The room was mostly made out of darkened wood, with only a single window. The window portrayed a dark, rainy night, with the only light in the room arising from the lit candle.
The figure's face was a mixture of rough and soft, with a smooth mouth and a sharp chin, yet rather aggressive eyes. Their pupils were painted in a soft gray, covered partly by their long, white hair. Their face had an unmistakably male affinity, their broad shoulders and jagged chin only supporting that thought. The rain made a constant noise in the ambiance, overpowering most other noises. Although there wasn't much to look at, their eyes were nearly constantly gazing through the black window. The boy must have been 15, perhaps 16 or 17 years old, with a rather young appearance for his aesthetic.
His gaze turned back towards the light, the flicker of the candle glaring in the side of his iris. He shifted his chin along the height of his arm, resting the weight of his head onto his bent wrist. After a few motionless moments, he loosens his pose, lifting his head, and standing to his feet. Although his robe covered nearly the entirety of his body, it was visible that he wore no socks or shoes. The chair was pushed back with a noisy creak, his steps towards the window making little noise in comparison to the loud patter of rain.
Once he reached the window, he placed his fingers upon the windowsill, curling his fingertips around the extrusion of the sill. He squinted into the darkness, the wind from the window causing his robe to blow and his hair to rustle. He lifted his right hand, breaking the authoritative sound of the rain with a loud snap of his fingers. The darkness in a fair area before him dissolved swiftly, revealing a muddy, green field, soaked with rainwater.
His gaze followed the hilly horizon, dispelling the darkness wherever his eyes rested. Several deep, circular craters were visible in the geography, with long streets connecting them. The holes themselves were empty.
“Sorcerer,” the rain was interrupted by a voice, along with the wooden creak of the door parting.
The white-haired figure's eyes were already at the side of his view.
“The city you requested tax from is refusing to pay.”
The boy remained ponderously silent for a moment.
“I see.” As the white-haired boy spoke. His deep voice resonated with a sense of power, as if he spoke from his chest.
The visitor nodded.
The boy turned with no response, continuing to stare along the horizon. The messenger pulled his head back from the doorway, closing the door behind him.
He snapped his finger once again, returning the darkness to normality. He walked from the window at a slow pace, balancing keenly on the balls of his feet. He looked at the heavy, wooden table, only to raise his palm towards it. With an unsteady quiver, he lifted the table, allowing it to hover towards the corner of the room before dropping it to the floor with a thump. He walked into the center of the now more spacious room.
He slanted his neck with a loud crack, then repeated the motion in the opposite direction. He stared low to the ground, letting both his arms raise, palms faced upwards. He closed his eyes tightly, his teeth carving forwarding and stabbing into his lower lip. His appearance gave off an unpredictable impression, the creases of his tunic raising in the windless room. The candle dimmed gradually, flickering into darkness after a few seconds. His hands spawned a bright, purple orb that levitated a few inches above his palms. The strands of his white hair lifted at the tips. The orb began to increase in intensity, a low drone filling the room.
Suddenly, he shut his palms together, silencing the purple orb. His hair and robe stopped floating. When he opened his eyes, he immediately re-lit the candle with a simple flick. To his delight, the floor was now caked with three distinct clusters of grayness. Each blotch had a grid-like pattern to it, with an appearance that could be described as a glass carpet. That's because each cluster was not indeed, a glass carpet, but rather a shrunken city, averaging two by two feet in size, with a skyscraper maximum of an inch in height.
He grinned slyly from the corner of his lip. “Now then, allow me to introduce myself.”
A weak beam of light pried benevolently through the slightly parted curtains of a bedroom, gleaming directly into the closed eyes of a slender figure. Her groans of displeasure filled the mostly mute room as she lifted her hand, shielding her eyes from the offending light. As her thin body lifted from the bed, she raised the blanket, covering her cordially pale body beneath the flocculent cloak. The low rumble of the bus, outside world normally felt silent to her, yet something hearing it in the morning was somehow agitating.
She laid upright in silence for a few seconds. She scoffed to herself, pulling the sheets aside and standing to her feet. She walked towards the bathroom, pushing her palm against the already slightly open door. She stepped onto the warm, porcelain floor and began to wash up. After splashing a handful of water into her eyes, she glanced into the mirror. Her features were rather modest, a small, coy nose, above ordinary lips. Her eyes were blue, and her black hair was wrapped in a messy, over-night ponytail.
After washing up, she walked towards the counter. She reached for a newspaper. The headline caught her attention: “City of Lona Refuses to Pay Tax to Self-Proclaimed Emperor; Civilian Morale High.” She gulped down a breath of air. Politics were never really her thing, but this Emperor, he terrified her. Although she had never seen him personally, tales had been spreading of his rule and power. Supposedly, he was ridiculously cruel, and had the power to destroy entire crowds with magic. Of course, their entire government was convinced that it was simply a tall-tale, and that he was nothing more than a powerful sorcerer. Still, she had her anxieties.
She still staring at the newspaper as the horrific sound began. It started as a low rumble, one that only siezed a small amount of attention. Although, as it went on, it became louder and louder. Finally, after four seconds of thundering, it reached a savage roar. Almost immediately, an alarm began to blare throughout the city, the raising sound of cars honking and crowds clamoring replacing the previous morning ambiance. The glass cup on her table shattered, and one of the windows formed a deep crack. She had already dropped to her knees as the sound worsened, with her hands held tightly over her ears. Slowly, the sound faded, and it revealed a relieved city. The noises of sirens and the occasional confused scream remained.
She tried catching her breath, still utterly alarmed by the sudden and potent noise. Though her heart only dropped further as her eyes passed through the window“W-What is t-th...” She couldn't finish her sentence, her eyes agaze at a completetly black sky. Something about it didn't look realistic, as if it was too dark.
Suddenly, a thunderous crack swept through the city, like the snap of a whip. Sound-waves blasted through buildings, blowing windows open, breaking doors off of their hinges, and exploding planes of glass. One of her windows shattered, raining broken glass only a few inches from where she stood. When she looked back through the window, all she could do was stare.
–
“Some call me god.”
He spoke lowly, a roughness in his voice that could only be mimicked by a morning cold.
“Some call me an emperor.”
His eyes never stayed in place for long, scouring the gray blotches on his ground individually and repetitively.
“I, for one, call myself Roka.”
He remained motionless in the windless room, his robe bobbing slightly from his minimal movements. He squinted his eyes condescendingly, staring with a constant foxy grin on his lips.
“But enough about myself; let's talk about you.”
He latently stood to the balls of his feet, his tremendous heels lifting off of the ground with a thunderous rumble. His unfathomable height was only amplified.
“For some reason, you didn't pay your tax, and you also didn't swear your loyalty to me. Personally, I can't understand why.”
His gaze centered around the city of Lona, which was the largest. It resided a mere few inches from the bare toes of his right foot. His nails were grimly long and jagged, with the ends curled downwards slightly, a protrusion length of about an inch. The ground shook tremendously as he began to lift his right foot. He lowered his left heel to the ground, a deafening impact to many unfortunate civilians. He continued to raise his enormous sole, letting it eclipse even the sight of his godly face. He stopped when his knee was evenly angled, never letting his eyes leave his target.
“Unfortunate specks... Worthless, useless... Weak. Without magic, I can't even see you screaming in agony, crying, all sorts of pathetic things. It makes me want to crush you, and not just to put you out of your misery.”
His motions felt rash and reckless, like a monster terrorizing a town. He abruptly pushed his immense weight forward, letting his leg straighten towards the impotent city. The impact was very sudden and explosive, with the heel of his foot clashing first. It dug into the city like as if it was gravel, with a texture similar to fragile sandpaper. He couldn't help but sink a tooth into his lower lip, the satisfying feeling of killing millions only perceived as a soft massage The ball of his foot was perhaps the most devastating. It had the largest surface area, and the least area for refuge. It crushed deep into the city, leaving no survivors beneath its unbelievable weight. Buildings and people were mushed together horrifically, with entire city blocks flattened. His toes came down like atomic bombs, each with their own epicenter. They scrunched loudly, with a noise akin to a constant explosion. Buildings were crushed between them, forced to bear the weight of two massive toes each. The dirt and residue between the wrinkles of his skin rained down like asteroids, crashing through towering skyscrapers and city blocks, crushing buildings on their own. The scent was awful, with a visible green fog constantly around the crushed areas. Beneath his arch, his foot stench was now the only smellable thing. The scent managed to melt the paint off of buildings and cars.
After a few seconds of echoing explosions, he spoke. “Aw, did I kill them all so soon?” He uttered this horrific sentence while glancing towards the next, closest city. His foot lifted from the ground with a slight peel, the heavier debris raining down immediately, whereas the rest stuck to the surface of his dirty sole. He admired the footprint, frowning slightly at the sight of the intact buildings where his arch landed and between the waste of his toes. “Hm... No, that won't do. Some of you survived. I guess I'll have to think of a more severe punishment.”