The Rogue and Destruction's Serpent

Black Rogue thought over his stories as he pondered the riddle. “creation’s worst threat…” he muttered aloud. “My best creation is a universe, so… I suppose a world snake would be its worst threat…” As his thoughts travelled, words began smoking off his shield and coalesced into a black mass. From it, a large snake-like creature began to materialize as the Rogue spoke, as though his thoughts were taking form. It had pitch-plack skin, and an upper torso of a massive humanoid being with a draconic head being dual-wielding a pair of morning star maces.

Eventually, the Rogue noticed the ominous looming shadow. “Oh you’ve gotta be kidding me…” he muttered, looking up just in time to be knocked to the side by a vicious strike. “Ow…” the Rogue slowly climbed to his feet, noticing the forming mural in the distance. “Rules do say I can beat it into the wall… Question is HOW?” He flung an Ink Stroke at an arm, lopping it and the weapon in its grip clean off.

The limb promptly vanished before it hit the ground, as another one grew back into place in a rush of ones and zeroes, causing the entity grew smaller in response to the loss of mass. It swiped back at him. “Of course it can regenerate. Of flipping course,” he muttered. His gaze fell on his shield as he set up a Firewall and blocked the retaliating strike. Reading the words on it, the Rogue started to get an idea of what the creature really was. “You are hate…” he muttered, staring at the beast. “You are an enemy of my creation: My own self-loathing!” The Rogue growled and lashed another wave of digital plasma ink out at the creature, only to miss. “Ah, dammit, I should’ve aimed!” The serpents tail lashed around the Rogue and squeezed him tight. Through the ski mask on his face, he could almost read words on the being’s torso, each one another thought on how he could’ve played the situation differently, along with “I hate myself… I’m an idiot…” among other things.

“Y’know what? Yeah, I could’ve played this differently! But I can’t change the past; I’m no time mage!” he said aloud. “I’m sorry for my actions, but I can’t change it!” Aside from halving in size, there was no further reaction from the creature, which raised one of the maces high. ‘Crap, how do I beat a… snake…’ his thoughts trailed off as a random snake fact popped into his head: snakes hated cold, and he had an armor full of it! Squirming, he managed to bring his thumb over the silver sapphire ring on his right forefinger, which activated his Ice Armor.

The small cropped jacket morphed into a long white coat with the inside an icy blue. His biker gloves became deep blue bracers with thin plating on the back. The high-top shoes transformed into long boots, armored with dark blue grieves. Lastly, the high collar turned into a lower face mask, leaving only his goggles unchanged.

The serpent hissed in discomfort, releasing the Rogue, who smirked. “Let’s change the ambiance, shall we?” With that, he lashed out, his blade severing a good length of tail. As before, it regrew at the sacrifice of a large amount of mass. Before the now waist-highbeast could retaliate, the Rogue pointed his sword at the beast. The blade’s glitching seemed slowed, as though affected by the cold its wielder had. “Winter’s Premise,” he intoned, firing a wave of icy cold letters and data at his opponent. The entity promptly froze solid.

“I’m done with you.” The Rogue said simply, hefting the creature up as the Ice Armor dissolved into his normal black clothing. Walking over to the mural, he slammed the embodiment of his overthinking and self-loathing into the wall, watching as it shattered and reformed as a part of the mural.