Survival of the Fittest [Fenrir]

[xin]

"This salty air, it's so interesting..."

His feet pressed into the ground, his blurred body coming to a complete stop as he took a look around slowly taking his eyes towards the area. The beach, someplace he had never actually seen from where he came from. The oceans were sparkling under a half moon, the currents splashing as the darkened parts would form more over him with the clouds coming down with slow movements.

As he sat towards a large rock nearby, he took his gaze towards the sky and wrapped his hand around his sword placing it into his grip firmly smiling. He unsheathed his sword, showing a great interest in the blade. He would sigh and stand grasping the blade tightly starting to move with the sword swiping and cutting against the air with a confident smile. He was happy, the blade wasn't even his, and he finally got his first true sword from his grandfather; stolen but he didn't really care.

"This is so awesome; the sword that grandpa used seems so "heavy" but... it's so cool."

It wasn't heavy in the sense of weight but heavy more in the sense of all it's been through. His grandfather constantly kept the sword in shape, and would sharpen and maintain it every month. He was at awe with the sword each and every time; and would even help him to do so, having smiting skills from these factors. But he wanted his own grandfathers sword because it was in his eyes "the coolest sword". He took it back towards himself and sighed softly.

"I wonder if there are any people in the city that have swords... maybe I can meet some stronger opponents or... OH!"

His fingers snapped as he chuckled, as he got more excited he showed more of his explosive nature. He was still a "kid" even if he was seventeen years of age and had the mentality of a kid. He would only show more or less immaturity towards somethings and maturity towards others. Things like his swordsmanship for example were very important. He made a vow with himself to completely master swordsmanship and use it to fight and gain a world renown reputation. That's what he wished anyway, but being so young and inexperienced, he could be considered "weak" in the eyes of most who had already made their skills known.

He never even hit his grandfather, who was an extremely powerful swordsman who even in human form cut cut through objects and had extremely powerful slashes that could rip apart most with just a handwave. All he was in that aspect was a low tier. He had incredible strength, speed and the ability to change into his lycantrophe forms, but that was it. He couldn't even fight without his weapons, making it even less of the case. Anyway, he wanted to start on his journey and thus ran away from home and started his own adventure.

"Let's see what I gotta do to become stronger than, gotta surpass dad and grandpa!"

He gripped his fist, clinching it around his sword. His eyes closing as he nodded, frowning now.

"Time to go..."

[hotpocket3]

Americana Beach... The same beach that Fenrir had landed on when he arrived just several weeks ago. He recalled it being nice and quiet which is why he decided to return. It was nighttime - the half-moon and stars hanging in the sky were reflected on the waters of the ocean whenever it was still enough to allow for a reflection. On his way to the beach he saw several punk-looking kids chasing a dog through some back-alleys. Of course, with Fenrir being the dog-loving demon he is, he went after the kids. As soon as they saw the tall man with long hair in a kimono with swords chasing them - they broke off into groups and ran away from each other. He went after the kid who was the closest to the dog and once he caught up he punched the kid in the back - sending him into the ground in-front of him.

Fenrir flipped the kid over.. he looked to be about 15 or 16. His face was covered in blood and the nose looked like it was broken - there was also a pretty nasty dent in his forehead from hitting the ground at that speed. He wasn't dead... maybe unconscious or in a coma, but not dead. That was good enough for now. Fenrir walked over to the dog that was whimpering behind a trash can and asked "You alright? They didn't hit you did they?" The dog replied with what seemed like a happy whimper. It's tail was still in between it's legs. The dog ran off away from Fenrir. Of course it'd be scared of him too probably.

He was slowly walking along the beach just as he did when he arrived. He was walking just next to where the waves would roll in at. There was nothing out of the ordinary though... boring. Despite his original desire to be walking along the peaceful beach with no distractions... he wanted a distraction. It was too peaceful... it felt unreal to him. Then his wish was granted...

The scent of dog... no... werewolf was in the air. It'd been a while since Fenrir had come across a werewolf. He's killed the last five that he's met, ate the last two. Werewolves tasted better than human - even if in their human form. He didn't know why, but it was true. If he could manage to kill this werewolf while it was in it's wolf state - he'd have quite the feast to prepare for himself. He started running towards the scent of the smell with his hand gripping his main katana.

After a minute or two of running - who he believed to be the werewolf was in sight. He slowed down and slowly started to walk towards the werewolf. He slowly drew his katana as he got closer to the humanoid figure. "Nice night, isn't it, werewolf?" he said in a plain tone as he pointed his katana at the man - standing about 15 feet away from him.