Arthur arrived in Miami, and took an Uber to an area near the house. He'd packed some clothes in a backpack.
He entered the car, sitting back. Immediately, the Uber driver felt uneasy, seeing Arthur. It was not much of an exaggeration to say that Arthur looked inhuman. He was balding with an acne ridden face, being deemed by all as an unattractive subhuman.
"So, uh, you a tourist?" The driver asked.
"I guess you could say that," Arthur answered, looking out the window as he drove. The driver didn't talk much during the ride, which Arthur was appreciative of.
The difference in weather, from New York City to Miami Florida, was quite big.
Once he was dropped off, he began to walk towards the household, when he saw multiple people. They all blocked him from getting any further, as there were five of them, ranging in age from 20's to their 60's.
Two of them were recognizable. As the man and woman who attacked him that night. However, before Arthur could attack—
"Traitor. I'll only tell you this once: leave. We've got no interest in—"
The old man said. Arthur paid no mind, launching forward and raising the ring into the air, as it shattered and reformed into that signature cutlass.
Arthur swung it down with great force, and it completely ripped the old man's face off. The attack went right down the middle, dragging the man's sagging skin off of his face with the force.
The man fell forwards, his head slamming into the ground, split down the front in two, yet not removed from the rest of his body.
This caused the others to spring into action. One leapt back and formed two giant hands of fire, crushing Arthur and scorching him while the other sprayed him with fire akin to a flamethrower.
That sensation of his skin burning, being broken down with flames, and the fire entering his throat and nostrils from his screams, was all so great. He couldn't smell anything, he couldn't see anything, the hair on him that was thinning was quickly scorched to nothingness, and he felt like his eyeballs were being boiled.
His eyes secreted liquid to wet them, but that was never going to be enough, and he truly felt like he was dying an agonizing, terrible death.
However, such things did not last forever, as he flailed his limbs around, pushing back the inferno of hands, enough to break free and dash away.
He healed his body, and found himself now completely naked, with his weapon needing to be shattered to reform itself as it was boiling the blood.
"Tch, I told you sis, y'should've—"
Arthur burst forward at the man, the one who had attacked him on that night. His name, the one he'd given on that unexpectedly terrible night was Oliver. And his "sis" in question, who'd joined him, was Misty.
However, as the man turned his flames on, launching them out as an attack meant to scorch the opponent, Arthur leapt into the air, a good 15 feet into the sky, to which Oliver had to adjust to track.
Upon landing, Arthur dashed backwards, ending up behind a car. To which, Arthur raised his foot and kicked it backwards with great force.
Enough so that the, admittedly small, car was launched outwards at them like a projectile. Everyone present was able to evade that attack, except for the previously injured old man; the attack's intended target.
The man was crashed into by a car at 20 miles an hour, it crushed his body and rolled, before ending up on someone's porch. The old man screamed, holding his face and body, bleeding profusely.
The others who were meant to stop Arthur, they all launched their attacks, which Arthur dodged, evading the crushing hands and getting out of the range of the flamethrower. He laughed at them, taking a step back before rushing forward.
To Oliver, whose ability was best suited for keeping someone like Arthur away, this was the right chance to strike. Yet, when he did burn Arthur, Arthur pushed past, closing his eyes and using his senses to follow where the originator of the attack was.
The flames were expelled from Oliver's hand. So, naturally, wherever the flames originated from, so too was Arthur.
This came at a cost of intense pain, pain so great as to make Arthur immediately regret this course of action. Yet, he accomplished it anyways, pushing past the flames and essentially shoulder-checking Oliver, pushing him backwards onto the grass.
So, it was then that Arthur opened his eyes, healing his skin enough to move properly as he ran followed Oliver's floor-ridden body. He stood over Oliver, who put both hands up similar to each other to continue spraying, only for Arthur to hack those hands off at the palm, spraying blood onto the grass and Oliver's clothes.
"IT HURTS! IT HURTS, IT BURNS!! AGHHH!!! MOTHER—GRAH! IT BURNSSSS!!!"
Arthur screamed and roared, screeching to the point his voice cracked as he raised his cutlass into the air, beginning to slash and cut away at the very fabric of Oliver's body.
The sound of sword cutting through flesh and bone was loud, but drowned out by Arthur's cries. Of course, when he relied on his senses to find Oliver, that meant that he focused on the pain in his body. And it truly, truly hurt.
So, swinging his sword like a bat, Arthur hacked away at Oliver's face and body, slicing him apart. Oliver could not heal fast enough for Arthur's assault, as Arthur went right, left, up and left, cutting his body and head apart like a pig.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Oliver squealed, using his arms to try and cover up his face from the attack, only for the sword to cut into his arm, be ripped out and put back down, cutting him apart.
His mass of limbs fell down to the ground, as he left behind much blood and several different hands.
The two of them were both in terrible pain. Arthur could not ignore the pain, it hurt too much, and it made him regret ever living. All Arthur could see was that pain, that agony inside and outside of himself.
Arthur let loose the roar of a dragon, as he continued to completely mutilate Oliver. Oliver tried to crawl back to escape, but that wasn't good enough, the onslaught just continued and continued.
Over, and over again, he felt his limbs chipped away, removed, only to be regrown and repeated. And when it wasn't his limbs, it was his face, his eyes were slashed out, he felt his skull break from the cut which wasn't able to fully hit his brain. His cheeks were slashed up, his gums were cut, causing teeth to fall down into his wailing throat.
His torso, the chest, the ribs, the stomach and intestines, the liver and lungs, were all being ripped apart by that blade, causing everlasting agony. Blood flew, was stained to the sword, which was only used to strengthen it, making it sharper and sharper, which Oliver could feel.
At first, the blade needed two swings to hack off his wrists or forearm. But after 10 seconds of the assault, it only needed one.
And all the while, his stamina was being forcefully taken from him, converted into second chances. He felt like he was drowning, as his muscles grew too tired to stay up for even just a few seconds, his breath was stolen, and his body continued to be used as a punching bag for a cutlass.
Finally, it ended.
Oliver's hands could not move to protect himself, and even if they could, the sword would just cleave right through them. Arthur hacked away at his head, splitting it apart again and again and again and again—
Arthur stood over the bloody corpse. Immediately, the fire that Oliver kept attached to his body was now extinguished, leaving behind a mess of burnt skin and blood pouring from Arthur's own body.
Then, it was healed.
Arthur huffed and puffed, standing over the completely mutilated existence. Arthur placed his hand down, gathering all of the blood off of Oliver's body, transforming it into a ring.
As his ability had evolved due to breaking the Second Taboo, less blood was needed to form larger, or stronger weapons. And this massive amount of blood only made it even better.
Arthur's finger was cut open with his own blood from the inside, allowing the ring of blood to shatter and enter his body, adding to his stockpile. Arthur turned to face Misty, who had done nothing, as she was given direct orders to prioritize the life of the old man, Davis.
Arthur formed clothes from his own blood. As a result of his evolution, the blood did not need to be entirely solid. It could even be as thin and as fluid as fabric, which Arthur wished for.
Arthur was deeply enthusiastic at the fact that the painful fire was now gone. Pain was so terrible to him, it hurt and hurt and it made him agonize.
It was perhaps his final month, and any amount of pain that was more than necessary was something he truly despised.
Misty looked back, seeing Arthur stand over her brother. And then, she saw people walking down the street. They lived in a wonderful neighborhood, so all of the ruckus truly was the worst. Not to mention, each house had a security camera.
Indeed, everything that had happened had been caught on camera.
To those humans who saw the truth, she knew she had to eliminate them. Arthur hung his cutlass over his shoulder, scoffing a laugh as he approached her.
'It's just an idea I've had. Nothing concrete. Let's see.'
Arthur extended his unarmed hand, and tendrils slashed through his skin and flesh, growing larger and larger. And on that arm, were three tendrils which were produced, which Arthur could freely control.
'So nasty. But with this…'
Arthur rushed at her, and she formed the hands of inferno once more. Arthur was able to step back, letting them crash into each other before moving around and rushing her down. He swung his left arm, smacking her with the tendrils across the skull as they wrapped around her head and throat, squeezing her like a vice.
She was lifted into the air, and she kicked around, before Arthur slammed the sword into her. He ripped it out, repeatedly stabbing her, again and again in the stomach. The blood pooled down beneath her, and the other three present saw what was happening.
"Tch, old bastard, why'd you even want to step out if you were gonna be such a burden!?" Said one of the family members, before they abandoned that old man, the head of the family, in order to take Arthur on all by themselves.
However—
"I don't care what we have to sacrifice! You die here, Traitor!" Cried one of them, a man. His body began to transform, and his dragon hand stepped forward, as he transformed into a true dragon. The partner of that man accepted the plan, unleashing their dragon selves as well.
Arthur let them do so, as the bigger the body, the stronger they were, so it was ideal, both in terms of quality and quantity.
'And in order to make good use of a full dragon, without them changing back…'
Arthur formed those shards once more. He prepared himself, and launched the attack, timing it to be right around the time the second opponent finished their transformation, aiming for the head.
BOOM.
The shards flew through the sky, and were unable to be dodged as the second opponent was not prepared. As a result—
Death. Should be obvious, but truly, it was death that was afflicted upon them. Their head, around five feet tall in their 30 foot tall body, had shards driven through it with great force, splitting it open and leading to a gory mess.
The other dragon watched in a deep uneasiness, before turning around and looking at Arthur. Arthur was pleased with that attack, pulling his cutlass back over his shoulder with a small smile.
Despite reigning 24 feet above that "human," the dragon felt terror. The nickname that Arthur was given on that night, did not seem so inaccurate.
"The Dragon."
Yes, by this point, he truly did give the impression of a dragon.