The best genocide

I'm trying out an epic, so I'm just saying. Please note; chess.com does not support Roman Numerals, so that's why I'm using numbers and whatever.

 

Book 1

An inky shadow crosses the open plane;

it was casted by a dark shadow along the sun-bleached grass.

The casters black fingertips warping the warm sunlight.

A black dot appeared,

gone,

emptiness...

The caster glided across the now dieing grass,

once he-it reached the spot where the blackness once was,

he-it reached out,

the black fingers enclosed the spot.

That's when it began.

 

Book 11

From the glorious heavens,

to the deep bowls of the earth,

something was stirring.

It crawled across the face of the earth,

carving new rivers,

and crushing old mountains.

It could not be slowed,

nor stopped,

Rome sent 500 true heroes.

Only to be slaughtered in the mist of battle.

The creature is as tall as a man,

yet stronger than twenty.

It kills every human

although nothing else has a breath on it

It can break rocks,

but it cannot have companions.

As it crosses the cities,

the golden strings are played,

along the harps of the fates.

Among those who have seen,

the death,

have not come out.

Years passed,

bodies are found,

the eyes torn out from shaking fingers.

No one has seen it,

yet everyone knows it,

or what they believe is it.

 

Book 111 (D)

I am,

that is all,

I am not a monster.

Why do people believe that?

I have no wish to harm any living thing,

yet that is all they talk about,

I have to hear unbelievable things about me,

things that would make some would take the sword the the mouth,

just to not seem like an idiot.

I guess I should tell you my story,

that may help you pity me more,

than most do.

I was created,

not born,

by...

someone,

I do not know who and I don't want to know.

The tubes pumping inorganic things into me,

I could feel the forgen fire being shot through my veins.

I stayed there,

for longer than most humans have been alive.

I saw my opening around my 300th year.

My "master" had left for a good five years,

yet I knew that he could still see me,

those stupid cameras,

made from metal,

acting like they are alive,

but mocking us in the process,

alas I must attack the next town-

of course-

your here to learn why I kill.

I kill because I must

not for glory,

but I feast on their souls.

-Do not look alarmed,

they die a painless death,

like you live off plants and animals,

I like off souls.

Although my appetite has grown,

before I could suffice on weeds,

now I eat countless human souls.

 

Book 1V

A dark man,

walks alone in the crowded streets.

No one dares to touch him,

he is not strong,

no weapons that can be seen,

yet,

the aurora seems to reek to death.

His black hood seeps over

the downward turned face of a murderer.

Suddenly,

black wings opened a new back.

The hood was thrown back

reveling a face.

No one asked if he was an angel

or a devil,

it was neither.

The shirt receded

to the point where the wings touched

The body that was striped of the shirt

was worse,

a long spine shot bolts across the street.

Those who were unlucky enough to be caught

was quickly disintegrated,

leaving behind a screaming, squirming lump.

The man-creature tore back it's mocking face and screamed,

"YOU WILL FEAR ME! LONG LIVE D!"

D arched his arms across his body,

whomever was caught in the tornado,

and they were quickly torn to shreds.

D stopped,

the whirlwind continued to spin,

he/it jumped twenty feet toward the air.

Continuing the momentum,

he dropped faster then he-it left.

Long daggers was forced

through his forearms.

D landed

on a paralyzed bystander,

dark blood erupted

from the point of contact.

As the pressure increased,

the man buckled his knees

from the weight of D.

A silver stream started

to form on the daggers.

The stream struggled against

the flow of gravity

but managed to make it

up to the face of D.

A minute passed,

two,

five,

then the stream dried out.

The daggers retracted

back to the forearm.

D's powerful arms started to crush the man's head,

he fell to the ground,

whimpering.

D's hands still clamped.

A large crack formed,

the man screeched.

The head cracked like an eggshell,

spewing dark red blood across the empty street,

inside the blood little bits of white could be seen,

if you have the correct eyes.

 

Book V (D)

I know what I did was wrong

but you would do the same if you were in my position

wouldn't you?

 

Extra Credit: Find the compound-complex sentence! I have an English test tomorrow.