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[center][@Reflection][/center][center][h1]Raging Blurred Line - Torrential Dye[/h1][/center]

To accept simply being an arm? What ridiculousness. If the man would refuse to give his body then it would simply rampage and break down the personality that offered such resistance.

Foolish man if you did not wish to become a beast then why did you accept such a limb? To accept it, to invite it into oneself, to make it part of one’s body was to accept that end. Were all humans this foolish? To demand they escaped the consequences of their actions? How silly could one be?

The bestial fury of the boar poured over Roland. No matter how large his vessel, a man could not contain a beast. The limits broken by a hero climbed to a new peak of potential, but it could never reach the levels of a monster. A monstrous human was something different from man, different from a beast. But that also meant that it was neither. To become something else, to take to this new form and change to suit it was in the nature of the Boar. The moment it wins was then the moment that Roland would become the Demon Boar Roland.

The rage of the boar surged, now honed with a target. It did not simply lash out due to its nature. It now actively tried to bury the man known as Roland, bringing active ire towards the Saber as his demands rankled the boar who desired his own freedom.

To put it simply, coexistence was rejected.

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So it had come to this. His servant was a great knight who was known for his wrestling of beasts. But this beast was now part of him. To simply face one with one’s own body was simple as a hero, but to face something as an exposed spirit. Not only were the stakes higher than simple death, but it was also a conflict that was different than simple martial prowess.

A hero was one that stood against such calamities, but he wouldn’t be much of a guide if he simply watched. Tlilpojuan felt and noticed the danger that descended upon the world. Something that made even this demon boar seem so insignificant. If there was time, if there was the leisure to simply have Roland battle the boar.

No, to begin with this spirit should not be taken lightly at all. The ender of heroes, the ever-evolving plague upon man and the world. A punishment of the gods, the death that roams forests. There were many stories of boars in all cultures that made them destruction in the form of an animal. To bind it to a protector, to imbue Roland with it while keeping Roland who he was without contamination.

Such a thing could be called a miracle. 

He took off the mask. Even in the voyage to commune with spirits he was wearing it, garbed in the guise of a horse. But now he was but a man. In the lore of his people man did not hold their talents or strengths by their lonesome. Guided and protected by their guardian spirits, it was the bestial spirits that stood by one that brought one to their full potential. The Demon Boar was a unruly guardian spirit, so he would stand by Roland as one to show him just how it was done.

A risk, a possible burning out of his one great treasure, and his one great sin. It could be called foolish, a needless risk. But as the winds caressed his skin he could hear fate itself whisper that this was right.

For the first time in years he bared his face to the world.

“Go, Roland.” he cried out as he unleashed the spirits of his mask. The stampede of horses released rushed the boar, following the Paladin as the battle for dominance truly began.

This was not a matter of resisting the influence. This was a matter of beating the Demon Boar and winning. A ridiculous notion. The most fitting option for those two fools.