The sight was the first thing that would have best been left forgotten.

So little as opening his eyes brought about stress akin to lifting barrels, and they were greeted by the scorched aftermath of what he'd always known as the greatest place in Takera. Charred bones were scattered about streets, some from Demons, others from what he could only wish weren't any he knew. If that weren't enough, there wasn't a single soul out in the roads.

It took almost all he had to keep from assuming the worst.

Even the most magnificent structures were burnt to a crisp, the only ones left standing he remembered to be in direct affiliation with Oberon.

The memory of that man carried with it the memory of his confession to the murder of the boy's only sibling, and one of the only people he'd ever admit to truly treasuring. The story was that fate's hand befell her during an unrelated invasion of similar circumstance to this; he'd never known devastation quite like that.

After learning that one of few other people he'd at least considered close was actually her murderer, there was little left but to wonder just what he'd done to have deserved any of this.

Though, Kyoya was at least aware that he'd die by continuing to lie there... Even if the offer was tempting. The ground beneath him was nothing but brick and wood, burnt to blackened coals, and several more pieces of said wood were piled on top of him. Luckily, they weren't all that heavy. Otherwise, this oaken prison would have been his deathbed.

He mustered the strength to push himself up and out of the debris, a vicious pain in his abdomen sending him right back to the ground. While lying there, contemplating if laying down and letting Fate take him really would have been the favorable alternative, he stared to the sky.

It was very early morning, still dark, and he had been unconscious for at least two days, based on publicly shown clocks on still-standing towers. Forcing himself to his feet once more, Kyoya lifted his top to assess his injury.

There was a deep, diagonal gash reaching from the left side of his ribs down to his stomach, but the bleeding wasn't nearly as intense as it should have been, due to the wound appearing to have been cauterized by whatever flames remained in his crash site.

That said, he figured any worry of infection wouldn't be too high, and the only real threat would be the pain. Thankfully, the sharpness slowly dulled, until there weren't major complications walking.

The unfortunate truth, no matter how much he wanted to deny it, was that there was no chance of his being welcome here any longer. This was reinforced by the array of "WANTED" posters with a rather flimsy portrayal of the boy hung about what remained of the city's buildings. An effective countermeasure in case he wasn't killed by the fall, and likely intentional, but he didn't plan on staying to find out.

"Just in case I lived, huh..." Kyoya whispered to no one, kicking up settled ash with so much as breathing. The sound of a horse-drawn carriage almost made him shout to it, but remembering what he'd just told himself, realized that it may have been forfeiting his life.

Even still, he at least knew the ins and outs of Teleo; managing to get out undetected wouldn't be quite as impossible as one would figure. Where he'd fallen was directly under the royal castle's balcony, in a small-ish market district. Odds were, there wouldn't be anyone that wasn't hostile roaming due to how recently this catastrophe had occurred, so Kyoya at least had some means of staying out of anyone's attention.

With dawn quickly approaching, there was no time to waste if he was to leave here with any breath. He began clenching his teeth to the point of aching so to distract himself from his torso, hugging walls and slipping through whatever corridor presented itself. However he had to, the Northern gate was where he needed to make it -- standing or not.

There wasn't any daunting foe watching him along the way, nor any unseen force tracking his every move.

Right now, Kyoya's enemy was himself.

Forced into split-second hiding, he couldn't keep his mind from running rampant with all that had happened in so little time. With real, careful thought and a generous sum of reconciliation, this would eventually lose its sting... but until he found somewhere that he wasn't indefinitely at risk of extinction, he'd have to live with whatever may challenge his path forward.

Even the sun, as it crested the sky, seemed to burn holes into Kyoya's skin. Why did it feel so malicious? The tender, radiant sun that once blessed his cold world with precious warmth, so terribly cruel?

He found solace under a collapsed bridge, having to hide himself beneath rubble every so often to avoid being sighted by the wandering patrol teams. Their crimson armor matched that of Oberon's with lessened bulk, inspiring inhuman levels of blistering rage to well up in his throat. Though, in his critical state, it isn't likely that he'd even be able to dent the metal, let alone wipe out a squadron and leave standing.

In spite of his being hidden for some time, he was still making progress.

He'd devised a strategy to it, now: they checked main roads, then on their second patrol of the next area, would check the more hidden areas surrounding them, followed by another team that looked in the main area of that. Dodging lines of sight became at least not as nerve wracking, but his energy still wasn't recovering.

Really, it was only diminishing.

Each step tried pulling him down to earth more than the last, but the sight of the Northern gate practically forced him to keep trudging forward, occasionally stepping on a bone or ash pile and wincing, not from pain, but on impulse.

The once-luminous flags of the kingdom of Teleo now flew their banners torn, burned, and tattered, very effectively shattering what little pride he had left. Even the kingdom's wall was ravaged, spattered with holes and even remaining embers of the onslaught.

For a second, the boy wrestled with his racing thoughts in an effort to put them down, for at least long enough to let him rest, however briefly it may be. Even if he never actually witnessed the bulk of the event, he considered, the idea in itself was what pushed him forward; even if he never knew many of those who perished, it grew more and more apparent to him that he had to get out, to survive, to live, and fight another day...

..not only for himself, but for those who were lost fighting for the place he'd called home.

The vast majority of those involved in the futile effort of resisting the Demons had no idea of Oberon's apparent scheming. That only seemed to make their sacrifices even furtherly worthless -- for the truth, that is.

The man's plan would only benefit on account of the tremendous loss of life, and with his statement as he bid his wretched goodbye to Kyoya, there was little chance of it ever coming to light.

As the boy approached the Northern gate, quickening his limp and glancing over his shoulder every few seconds, the concentration of remaining flames grew higher.

He hadn't noticed it before.

Fifty or so meters from the gate were sparks, aimlessly floating every which way. Thirty, and small columns and embers persisted through whatever tried to extinguish them. At twenty, the flames grew to an encompassing blaze that almost completely blocked the gate, but none of the patrols so much as batted an eye when he'd watched them pass before.

Ten, and the blaze was erupting into a searing inferno that left but a single point for exit, straight down the middle.

It could be figured that he'd grown to despise fire ever since that night. It had taken all he'd ever known, even if it wasn't much.

But now, it stood in his way, and he had no plans to stop moving.

Yet, even as he approached, the passing of each distinct change in the flame's intensity almost felt... Inspiring?

This single, isolated instance of fire had yet to cease burning, despite there being no source of fuel, and didn't appear to be anywhere near petering out.

He'd just passed through the final flaming passage, when a single floating ember materialized before him. Though, this time, it was a deep azure.

Its standing alone after the fierce display of heat behind it radiated a sort of comfort, despite his sitting idly in now-enemy territory.

The ember danced around him, singed his clothes, and even caught bits of his hair on fire, which he'd quickly pat out. There might have even been the slightest laugh as it returned to its original spot.

This little blue spark seemed alive, but better judgement skewered that notion.

He extended his hand to silence the spark, and it simply phased through his sun-burnt skin. At that point, he began remembering just why it was that he was even going through the gate in the first place, and collected himself.

He made one last attempt to grab hold of the flame, but this time, he tried to cup it in both hands. It obeyed and remained suspended a few inches above his palms, and after a few moments, seemed to just sink into them.

The shout of a patrolman and subsequent shots of cannons snapped him back into reality, even though they weren't directed at him. Kyoya laughed and considered the fact that he hadn't eaten or drank in days, and was severely wounded, which would easily explain the little hallucination he'd just experienced, and continued through the now completely fire-free gateway, and into the wilds.

Some two hours into moving Northward, toward no objective but liberation, Kyoya came upon an expansive grove that stretched to the horizon, which he was sure would be the first of many excuses to give in to the biting cold of Teleo's wilderness.

But when he saw that azure ember emerge from the underbrush, something in him knew that there may have still been hope.

Deep down, he understood...

...that it could have been for better, for for worse.

Enter, Defy the Legends.