As the bug fall down through the pit of darkness, it's sight switches from light-based to heat-based. The dark underground area was filled with crawling heat sources, moving across the area with ease. Spindly limbs stretched outwards from central bodies, the scent of magic in the air. In the distance, a source of light was detected, and as the insect switched it's vision once more, it saw that both Creed and Ven seemed to be standing there. Their swords were drawn, although they certainly didn't look like they were fighting, more out of waryness than anything else. Around them was a small horde of demons, the scent of their dark magics clear, although they appeared to be attempting to communicate. Around them rose series of pillars and broken walls, ruins of a once great civilisation.

Then, the world ends.

Blurring colors, shifting and flickering before his eyes, a sense of movement, and yet in all directions at once. Bug's mind struggled to keep up with the confused senses, as he felt a massive magical aura, just for a moment. But what he had felt, shook him to the core. It was a source of power like he'd never felt before, greater than anything he'd previously encountered. In that one tiny moment, with that one tiny glimpse, he already knew that this being could easily have ripped him apart, and there wasn't a thing he would have been able to do against it. And as this realisation pounded inside his head, he found it floating away. 

As he grabbed towards it, attempting to stuff it back into his head, he found himself floating in air, around him a myriad of ideas, concepts, small mindless thoughts, assesments and emotions, mingled and intertwined, each a tiny shower of bubbles, orbiting around him as he floated. And yet, seams began to show. A web, of which he was the center, each of the ideas surrounded by a tiny cocoon, as great, shifting creatures moved over them. And he knew, even in this warped, twisting reality, that this creature was real. Beneath it's shifting, ever-changing exterior, he could sense a soul, and a powerful magical aura.

It grew a pair of horns, extending upwards, even as a gaping mouth sealed itself into a series of eyes, long spindly legs growing, and then instantly being discarded for fins as the air turned to water. Sharklike, long and sleek, the creature rushed towards Bug, as if from all directions at once, and Bug found himself incapable of tellign what was real, and what was a conjuration of his panicked mind.

rain hit his face.

-----------------------------------

The building was burning. Mithias slowly walked through the rain, the mud dragging at his heels, the sword he bore resting heavily in his hand. As he reached the crest of the hill, he simply stared out mournfully, watching the flames as they devoured everything. Blood dripped from his side, his left hand clenched onto a wound. His shield lay discarded, far behind him, among the bodies of slain men, felled by the very blade he carried. Blood had stained his once clean armor, and had seeped between every crack, and as he dropped to his knees, he faintly realized that he might never be able to clean it.

A firm hand grabbed his shoulder, shaking him, as if to awaken him from a nightmare. Unfortunately, this was real. 'They'll still be alive, I'm sure of it. There's no way those sons of bitches would be satisfied just killing them, they'll be on tomorrow's pyres.' His oddly named companion said those words to relax him, but in reality, nothing terrified the knight more. A death by the blade was swift, but he had seen enough burnings to know that it wasn't quick, and it was far from painless. And it would be guarded by the armies of Inquisitor Stein, no mortal being could survive an all-out assault.

Of course, as a Templar Knight, he was aware of an alternative.