First Demonic Dragon - Chapter 1227: The Apocalypse I

Chapter 1227: The Apocalypse I

– Paraguay, South America

The day was like any other.

An hour before sundown, the streets of Bella Vista were bustling with people.

Laughter and frivolity could be heard from every man, woman, and child.

The air was crisp and relaxing. It was the kind of weather one could spend all night in without experiencing discomfort.

The people were unusually happy. Their world seemed so at peace.

And then they heard it.

Everyone on the street was privy to the sound of galloping hooves beating against concrete.

When they turned to find the source, the gallop slowed to a leisurely trot.

Everyone could see a pure white horse walking between cars.

The rider wore a sheet of white fabric that seemed deceptively noble.

A sheath of arrows sat upon his back, and a glorious black bow was held in his right hand.

The man’s face was nigh unrecognizable.

As soon as the humans let him out of their sight, they forgot the color of his hair, as well as the features of his face…

But they couldn’t forget the white of his coverings.

The color was so white. So pure.

It made them feel good to look at it. Almost like they had witnessed a celebrity.

They followed the figure without even understanding why.

Everyone the rider moved past dropped their things and turned to follow him.

At the same time, some began to fall to the ground; their health took an abrupt turn for the worse.

And in that moment, their hearts and minds were his.

– United Kingdom, Europe…

A man stepped out of a local restaurant with a brown paper bag in his hand.

The wide smile on his face was as infectious as it was endearing.

Another much younger man called out to him from a stall in the street.

“Fish and chips again, Mr. Davies? I thought the missus had you on a regimen.”

The old man cackled as he rubbed his belly. “Let this be my reward for sticking to it, then. A man cannot live on greenery alone!”

“I believe vegetarians might disagree with you.”

“No such thing!”

The young man and the old one laughed, and for a moment, shared an embrace in the middle of the street.

But then, both turned their heads when they heard what sounded like a horse.

The men turned in time to see the largest, most unnatural horse they had ever witnessed.

It’s fur was dyed crimson, as if it were soaked with blood. Muscles like forged iron radiated a heat that made them feel as if they were standing right in front of an open oven.

Pure black flames billowed from it’s nostrils and radiated underneath it’s hooves.

Atop it’s back sat a male figure, clad in a red robe.

He was young. Probably not even old enough to legally enlist in any country in the world.

His face was angelic. Innocent. Ashen white hair dangled around his shoulders as a red crest shone between his eyes.

Or rather… his eye sockets.

The boy was completely blind. His own blood ran down his face and blended in perfectly with the red fabric of his covering.

On his shoulder, he hoisted a large, black blade. Taller and larger than two men put together.

Once he passed the young man and the old one, the looks that they were giving each other slowly changed.

“….Do me a favor, Henry. Don’t mention my missus anymore, you hear?”

“Get your stinking finger out of my face, old man! It’s no wonder the lady goes around telling anyone who’ll listen about what a fat slob you have become!”

“You son of a bitch!”

Brutal fights broke out all over the street.

Cars crashed into stores, people, and other cars by the dozens.

Fires begin to break out on the street.

And all the while, the rider of the red horse does not look back.

– Pyongyang, North Korea…

A pitch-black horse paws at the ground, releasing occasional snorts as it’s rider chants.

The rider, a figure in black fabric, holds a simple metal scale in his hand.

He is thin. So very, very thin that he nearly resembles a walking skeleton.

His skin is gaunt and pulled tightly over his bones. His hair, white and brittle, has begun to go missing in some places.

He raises his scales to the sky, and the mystical plates slowly begin to balance.

There is groaning all around the rider’s feet.

Weak, emaciated humans cry out as their stomachs rage at them.

Their fingers split open and break as they forcefully wrest pieces of cobblestone from their place and shovel them into their mouths.

As they eat, there is less than a second of relief akin to an intense euphoria.

But then the moment passes. And the hunger returns with a vengeance.

They eat rocks. Their clothes. Plants. Live animals. Each other.

Themselves…

Whatever is closest to them, they consume in a bid to ease the gnawing feeling of hunger within them. Not knowing it is a futile endeavor that will drive them toward their demise.

– Oklahoma, United States…

The stench of necrotic flesh permeates the air.

Outside of a state government building, elected officials lie on the steps of their workplace, their bodies already cold and lifeless.

A horse whinnies above them.

It is a pale, rotting creature that appears to already be dead. A ghost in the flesh.

Whisps of ethereal green energy flee from it’s nostrils and radiate under it’s hooves.

It opens it’s mouth and begins to eat the flesh of the dead. Inspiring it’s rider to chastise it.

“Enough.”

The horse instantly pulls away, blood still dripping from it’s rotting maw.

Upon it’s back sits a haunting figure.

He is haunting, with light grey skin and spidery limbs.

He wears leg armor, but no chest plate. His gloves extend to his elbows and are designed with a bony pattern.

Purple fabric covers the lower half of his face. All that is visible about him is his long, oily black hair and deep orange eyes.

The mask of bone he wears covers his face from view. None has ever glimpsed the visage beneath it.

Footsteps come from behind the horsemen.

He glances over his shoulder to find Hades standing there, wearing a crown in addition to his usual black suit.

“…It has been some time. You remember me, do you not?”

The horsemen’s voice was gravelly with an underlying sarcastic sharpness.

“Do you joke?”

“Far from it. You went back to sleep after the last time we met, so I wasn’t sure if-”

“Hades. Child of Kronos and Rhea. Brother to Zeus and Poseidon. Ruler of the Greek Underworld. Owner of Cerberus. Husband to the Graceful Persephone.”

Hades nods. “You’re almost fully correct… I have no brother named Poseidon, Death.”

The horseman stares at him for a long time, as if he is waiting for the jest to reach it’s conclusion.

But then, recognition shows in his eyes.

“…Apologies. I am presently still getting adjusted.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Hades looks around.

The city is supernaturally quiet. The air is still.

“I see you got started without me… sorry about that, but I’m here now.”

“Then bear witness as the father decreed.”

The horseman holds out his hand, and a weapon appears that makes even Hades feel unsettled.

A large scythe, like the wing of a demon, larger and more terrifying than any mortal weapon.

The horse rears up on it’s back legs at the arrival of the weapon. It’s rider grips it’s metal reins to steady it before swiping his weapon in the air.

The slash is not exaggerated. On the surface, it appears completely normal, and nothing appears to have been gained from it.

But Hades knows that is far from the case.

He felt it as soon as it happened.

The moment that Death swung his scythe, more than two million people in the state died instantly.

A few moments later, a veritable ocean of deep green souls began floating up into the sky.

Suddenly, the beings of the dead hear an unnaturally loud roar that shakes them to their core.

A colossal dragon bursts through the clouds, surprising them both.

With it’s two heads, it devours the dead souls as if they are simple morsels. Neither Hades nor Death makes a move to stop it.

“…Is he supposed to be this early?” Hades raised his brow.

“…No. He is not.” Death narrows his eyes. “The seventh seal has yet to be broken. The dragon’s children are as unruly as ever.”

“Well, obviously.” Hades snorted. “You’re going to need to sleep a lot longer than a few billion years if you want to see that changed.”

“…So I see.”

The rider suddenly flicks the reins of his mount again.

Whining, the horse immediately begins pounding the pavement, racing through the world at an inhuman speed.

All the while, Hades follows behind him, taking note as weary souls flee the Earth.

–

Bashenga feels a lump forming in his throat. His pulse is unsteady. Erratic.

He holds the hand of a very sweaty and weary Gaia.

She meets his worried eyes and smiles at him. He cannot even begin to imagine where she has found the strength to do such a thing.

“Don’t look at me like that, husband… I’m sure it’s… not that bad.”