"You don't even remember it, do you? The day you killed them?" -vcrdant ;)
β β That day. Right, how could he forget? The day he had killed the rest of the Swords of Justice in cold blood β his last remaining friends from a bygone era, right in front of her. The day that marked the end of the horrendous tale of the ravenous monster that plagued the north with senseless bloodshed and never-ending blizzards.
It was impossible for him to forget, but what he does remember probably wasn't what Virizion would have wanted to hear.
Kyurem had lost all control of himself, when he, for a long time after the Split, reawakened and crashed as a Dragon Stone in the far northeast. Rage, betrayal, pain, heartbreak. How was he supposed to react upon catching wind that the Kings he had once loved, that he had once sworn to protect and stand steadfast by their side, had betrayed him not once but twice? By placing all blame of the destruction of the region to the dragons β his siblings, literal embodiments of his love and dedication to them, and condemned them to death by forever sealing them in their stones?
Nothing could have quelled the raging storm of what remained of the Great Dragon. He was left in the cold, and that bitter, bitter cold became his anchor. His power and his anguish were bleeding him out, and the ice served to contain what little he had left before it, too, threatened to devour him. Survival and self-preservation was all that kept him alive and all that drove him.
So... when humans tried to investigate the Chasm to find the source of their torment? When they had tried and failed to send hunters from all around to apprehend this gruesome monster? When the Swords of Justice were left no choice but to step in and stop him themselves, when he has done nothing but fight for his life like a wild injured animal?
No. All Kyurem remembers is the blood of his dear companions in his hands, their cold lifeless bodies below him, the lone and distraught and anguished survivor. Him drowning in his own agony as the red that flooded his vision cleared, silently begging to the survivor to put him out of his misery for what he had done, for what he has become.
He offers a smile, pained as it was, for he has nothing else to provide. "Of course I do, but... only of what came after. What a cruel and empty mercy, that is."
Kyurem brushes away his messy bangs and drags a finger diagonally across his face, slowly tracing the lingering scar of a sword. "For me to forget all that I had taken from you, and what you had spared me... Well, that would be a grave disservice to them, wouldn't you say?"
A painful reminder, another memory that Kyurem would have to live with for the rest of his days.
"I am so very sorry, Virizion."
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