<div style="text-align: center">AKUMU​</div><br/>Rotting eyes gazed over a bloody, corpse-strewn battlefield, an alien intelligence guiding their sight. It - for indeed this was not human, nor could it be thought of as such - used a bony, flesh-skinned hand to raise a bloody limb to it's maw, and using it's human jaw with it's human teeth, began tearing into muscle and skin, greedily slurping down blood and gore into it's dry, fetid throat. The being feeding on human flesh appeared to be something out of a horror tale, meant to frighten children. A ghoulish undead, a corpse come back to life, it's own flesh putrefying as it stood and walked. Suddenly, a shout.<br/><br/>"M-monster!" The walking corpse turned to face the source of the noise, sighting what looked like a farmboy, yet wielding a nicked and blunted sword. He was young, and covered in wounds, a bandage wrapped around his head the only barrier between life and bleeding out of the skull. His eyes were wide open in alarm, his breathing was heavy and rapid, barely keeping panic at bay. The corpse's head tilted to the side, showing far more intelligence than it's own caved-in and empty skull would imply, and let it's mouth hang open, viscera dripping down it's chin and down it's own tattered clothing. The boy gave a yell, and drove his blade into the ghoul, stabbing it through the chest and out the other side. Flesh and bone gave way easily, even to a damaged blade. The corpse looked at the boy and grabbed the blade, seemingly unfazed by the length of steel now lodged in it's torso. The boy let go of his blade, stumbling back, shaking his head and pleading to his family, his lord, his gods. Then the corpse simply collapsed to the ground, it's face going blank.<br/><br/>The boy was at first confused, then on guard. He looked around, checking for any other enemies, then slowly moved forward to get his sword, his eyes carefully trained on the now motionless corpse. His eyes could not see the real danger.<br/><br/>Akumu floated just above the corpse, gazing at the boy. It wasn't discouraged at having to discard it's host - rather, this new host seemed to be in somewhat good shape, alive, and in one piece. A healthy specimen, by a certain point of view. It was invisible to the boy's sight, half in this world and half in the next, the wall frayed and damaged in this site of carnage. Akumu was a spirit of dreams and nightmares, now corrupted beyond it's original form. In truth, the forms it took were nearly infinite, and often unrecognizable to human ken, but this corruption had brought with it<i>hunger</i>beyond anything before. Dreams were no longer sustenance, now it required mind and flesh from it's prey. And tonight, it was famished.<br/><br/>It probed at the walls of the boy's mind, searching for a way in. This boy seemed to have some talent for spiritual arts, and yet had no training, making him perfect. He was susceptible without ever being told to what. A delicious vessel, ideal prey. It tore in through the fabric of the ethereal plane, forcing it's way into the boy's mind. The boy fell to the ground, convulsing, drooling, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Within his mind, Akumu devoured everything he was - memories, identity, dreams. It learned, and it discarded. Finally sated, Akumu settled in, now in full control. The boy - named Yamato Seta - stood, and confidently walked over to his blade and pulled it out. His tongue ran over the steel, drinking it down, unwilling to let the blood go to waste. He stabbed the corpse in it's good eye, and picked it off the tip of the sword, popping it into his mouth. With a peaceful, satisfied smile, the boy sheathed his blade and walked off the battlefield, his wounds slowly beginning to knit and heal.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbMediaWrapper">
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