[@CreedTheChimera][@supertinyking][@kishin asura]
Theme Music±
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8SEBlp7Mkww

The ground flickered, the creature stepped forward. Breath seemed to become colder, shorter. Light seemed to dim, colour seemed to fade into grey. A cold gripped those present, a chill running down their spine. A fog began to envelope the area, seemingly unreal images playing through it, passing in mere instances, never fully seen. All of a sudden, it was as if all hope was draining out of the area, leaving room only for despair.

A blast of energy shot out from Vajira, the red wave engulfing the living nightmare. And yet it grinned, the line of white teeth visible even as the face was eroded, burning, only for the flames to peter out. It reformed, black squiggly lines taking their place in the chaotic construction of it´s body. It shivered unnaturally, a twitching, jerking movement that no natural being could have mimicked. With one hand it pulled down it´s hat, as it spoke in a twisted, unnatural voice. "What bad children you are. You're behind on your payments."

He was in front of Asura. There was no movement. Space was nothing to such a being, nothing more than the fear-filled hallucination of a traumatized child. And yet the cold hand that grabbed Asura by the neck was very real. Clammy fingers dug into his flesh, tearing through the skin scarves that wrapped around him. A numbness spread from the grip, a coldness that dug into his bones, that settled in the core of his being. He could feel his madness wavelength, the beating of his insane mind that so meticulously dug into the hearts of those around him, the power that had awarded him his title as the Failed God. But it gave him no confidence. He could feel the fear in him, the terror that had chased him down his entire existence. The horror that had driven him to madness, that had chased him through his existence, the paranoia that had never abandoned his fevered mind. He could feel his skin scarves drooping downwards, and he could feel his skin begin to follow. In large peels he began to fall apart, unfolding, unraveling. His existence was at an end, his life was no more than a blink in the eye of an uncaring universe. The death he had avoided, the death he had feared, even now clamped it's bony hand around his heart. And in the terror of the nothingness he was to become, it was as if he was paralysed by fear.

The others might step forward, aiming to intervene. Seeing the layers of skin beginning to peel off, beginning to dissolve to thread. They would see all colour beginning to drain from the Kishin, as the Nightmare realized his own greatest fear. And yet it was as if the ground stuck to their feet, black threads gripping their legs, moving up towards their chests. Every step was a struggle, and yet with every step the goal seemed to grow further away. An impossible struggle as even Mortis could feel the Anger that powered him giving way to terror, not mere fear but the paralysing horror of one who has submitted themselves to helplessness.

"Forgetting to pay all those little debts, getting away with all those little lies. But now you can't run any more. Now, you pay the consequence."