On a certain night, the wind cold, the moon bright, two siblings together danced in the blood of their opponents.
Corpses laid all around as their foot mats.
Blood spilled all over like paint.
Enemies who were sent to kill them were being slaughtered like chickens...
It was supposed to be a battle but there was no sound of sword hitting each other.
*SWISH...SWISH*
Their blades slice through the necks of their enemies like butter.
"Pl... please...please..." One begs for his life.
*SRRNNGG*
A chained Scythe comes slicing through his head.
He drops to the floor as his brain spills out to the ground.
"No!"
Fifty Years prior, on a cold mountain, there came a prophecy from a certain sect;
Ahh, this world...
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The devourers are on their way.
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The ones who will come to make her pay.
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For all her evil deeds...
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This world shall bleed.
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Devastation, Wrath, Destruction, Tears, Blood, all shall they bring upon us.
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All they want is love and themselves.
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Please do not wrong them or your heads shall be added to their shelves.
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Ahhh... Noo...
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It is too late... Please atone...
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Change your ways, leave them alone.
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If not... we shall all loose our homes...