His eyes felt heavy something about this place always reminded him of darkness. Long white hair covered his eyes as he looked around his prison cell. How many moons had passed since he'd imprisoned himself. It felt like an eternity since the rupturing of his body began. He glanced at the shackles he wore piercing through his wrists. They were designed to do a singular purpose. Keep him from leaving this place without ripping his arms off. Why had he decided to imprison himself, it happened after Iceland. He felt a thing in his core breaking something felt wrong for him. Danava of War it was like a growth was consuming him. He was awakening to a reality so far distant from it all. His prison lay beneath the Demon City. He'd designed it himself to contain him forever if need be. War had fallen pretty far to give him self-exile. He'd heard whispers and rumors of his deeds out there. His hand balled into fists as he growled slightly. A massive surge of energy went out through the city. Surging causing his powers to come up again.
The pain was coursing through him as it happened finally. A destruction energy leaked out consuming and cracking his cell. That crack was an ending of it, his plan to put himself below and keep his power from reaching them. It began aggression poured from his domain beneath that place. He'd vanished desiring to stay away from them all. On his chest, the surging green line of demonic energy poured out. He could hear it begin above ground while he sat chained. Nothing ever seemed to work out for him it seemed. Before his mind was so addled with the war he couldn't think of anything else. Now some amalgamation of his cells ran around mocking him. Nothing he could do as the riots would begin in the City of Demons. Aggression and bloodlust were pouring forward. The seal on his body had broken leaving the well to pour forward. He'd had their specialists build a place capable of containing him. Only one factor remained unknown to him, it wasn't an absolute or such.
Destruction energy was a rare and deadly thing capable of ripping apart this place like a tinker toy. He could feel it escaping him as a blackish energy poured from him. Kiriel slammed a hand on the ground feeling his demonic blood pulsing. There was something going on with this new power. He needed to get away from here, the way down here was an easy enough feat. The place beneath was an abandon underground area he'd used. He couldn't let his powers trouble Mana any further. He'd rip his own damn arms off before that. Kiriel went to give them a tug and begin the process. It happened again like the air had been knocked out of him. Green lines could be seen pulsing as pure demonic energy shot through his being. He slumped down to his knee's his arms slowly sliding to his side. He couldn't move right now as the pulsing energy seemed to eat through the area more. Destruction was being brought about as this chamber and even his shackles were being consumed. This purple-black energy coming from his body was like a poison.
It consumed matter and anything in its path. He couldn't contain it any longer as he felt pain. His expression returned to a blank stoic one. Was this his fate to be a destroyer who suffered for an eternity? Was he to be a nuisance to his sisters while imprisoning himself? How was it possible that someone pretended to be him? Some trick of mimicking was a foot. And it was a rather good one to copy him to the extent it did. Even his men thought he'd left here long ago. Well, they were in for a rude awakening. His demonic energy would feel different to those who knew him. Something else lingered behind the surface of its normal chaotic nature. He certainly didn't make a good brother at this rate. Brothers took care of their sisters, helped them as he looked at the crumbling shackles. Chains fell to the found breaking slowly as though being dissipated by the energy. This was what it meant, Cry Havoc was a term that came to mind. Slip the dogs of war and let them find and devour what they desired.