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Finished (TPD) Chapter 14: Triple Threat (2)
🕑 Added 2024-11-22 08:02:34 +0000 UTCChapter 14: Triple Threat (2)
AN: Sorry this took so long to release, it's a 10k+ chapter of pure action, so it took me a minute.
(Third Person)
Sylas’s army finally had Mortis within their line of sight, the large, towering walls that kept the contents of the city safe on display for all to see in the distance.
But in spite of that, not a single soldier paid any heed to the defenses in front of them.
For they were of no consequence, in comparison to what stood right in front of them at the moment.
One man.
He had black hair and violet eyes like every Fallen Angel.
He boasted an impressively tall and muscular physique, reminding Avalon of Captain Nox to an extent.
He sported a wildish beard like a Viking, and wore black armor with gilded lining, accompanied by a long black cape flowing down his back.
And to top it all off, he wore a comical looking helmet with a motif of an eagle, had a shield in one hand, and an axe in the other.
He hadn’t uttered a word since approaching Sylas’s army, simply standing in front of them with his arms folded, and a curious expression hidden underneath his helm.
Yet for some reason, even his seemingly relaxed demeanor was more than enough to cause the Bael Clan’s soldiers to sweat bullets. Furthered by the sound of rattling caused by their shaky hands and the weapons they wielded.
Slowly, the Fallen Angel started to raise his hand, pointing his index finger at Sylas.
“You’re not the one,” his voice was deep and hoarse. Sylas’s soldiers all shifted in a nervous manner upon hearing it.
He guided his arms towards the left, his finger eventually landing on the figure standing in front of Sylas.
He didn’t utter a word, instead choosing to let out a faint chuckle and grinning.
“The Strongest Knight in the Underworld, Souji Okita in the flesh.” The Fallen Angel sniffed the air, his grin continuing to stretch. “The scent of a Youkai, I see, so you really do keep them inside your body after all.”
‘Great, now I have to deal with yet another misunderstanding.’ Avalon grumbled.
‘Your path is pretty much the same as Souji’s at the moment, it’s inevitable that people will get the two of you mixed up with one another.’ Tomoe replied.
In hindsight, it didn’t really matter if the enemy wasn’t aware of who he was, as a matter of fact it could serve as an advantage in some situations. Therefore Avalon made no attempt to clear the air.
“I don’t think it’s very fair if you’re the only one who knows my name, Cadre.”
He had already noticed Sahariel’s presence where Lars was fighting, and the man in front of them had just as, if not an even heavier presence to him.
“Fair enough, my name is Armaros, and as you’ve already guessed, I am indeed a Cadre.”
Armaros was known throughout Grigori for having an exceedingly eccentric personality, but right now, that enthusiasm was nowhere to be seen.
This was war after all, and someone that had lived as long as he had could decipher the threat the person in front of him posed.
“Armaros… Meaning ‘accursed one’,” Avalon scratched his chin. “What about the Cadre to our left? Who’s that one?”
Armaros’s eyes widened a little.
“Our left? You can sense that from all the way over here?” Avalon replied with a simple nod. “Impressive… That’s Sahariel.”
“And the right?” Whichever Cadre had been given the unfortunate task of having to fight Adaloth, he couldn’t help but pity them.
“Penemue.”
“Armaros, Sahariel, Penemue.” Avalon recounted their names aloud. “Three Cadres all at once, that city must mean more to you than we originally imagined.” He gestured to the walls of Mortis stood behind Armaros.
“This is our home, of course we’re going to do everything we can to defend it. Don’t tell me you’re surprised by that?”
“You’re right, I shouldn’t be surprised. Although, the way you phrased that almost makes me feel a little villainous.” He breathed a flat chuckle.
“The concept of good and evil doesn’t have any value here, and I don’t intend on pretending like it does.” Armaros let out a sigh. “Hey, do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Sure, you answered mine so it’s only fair that I do the same.”
Sylas and his soldiers were left utterly baffled.
What possible reason could the Blindfold Devil have to be conversing with a Cadre so casually? For a brief second it almost felt like they weren’t about to fight to the death.
“Are you really Souji Okita?”
Avalon smiled a little.
“Why do you ask?”
“I mean, Souji Okita is supposed to be a veteran from the Civil War. However, you give me the impression of someone much greener. Not to mention that there isn’t really any reason for you to be using a disguise spell, or wearing a blindfold.”
‘Finally, someone with a shred of common sense.’
“Yeah, I’m not Souji. That’s just a misconception one of your people came up with, Eurus, I believe her name was?”
Armaros facepalmed.
“I should’ve known better than to have trusted information from Kokabiel’s daughter, she really is just as idiotic as her father after all.”
‘Kokabiel’s daughter? Fascinating, but now’s not the time to be worrying about that.’
Both Armaros and Avalon looked upwards, noticing that a sudden downpour of rain had descended upon the terrain.
“Well would you look at that? The Underworld’s setting the mood for us,” Avalon commented, hearing the sound of the droplets hitting his armor.
“This war is deciding the fate of who gets to keep the Underworld to themselves, it’s only natural that it elicits a response from the land we’re fighting over.”
“What a romantic world view for a Fallen Angel,” Avalon said in a noticeably mocking tone.
But Armaros didn’t seem to care all that much.
“So, if you’re not Souji Okita. Then who exactly are you?”
“My name is Avalon Gremory, I doubt anyone from your side has heard of me thanks to Eurus’s faulty intel.”
“Gremory? You’re a relative of the Crimson Satan?”
“Yeah, he’s my older brother.”
Eventually, Sylas took a step forward, putting his arm on Avalon’s shoulder.
“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re supposed to be in the middle of a war right now. This isn’t the time for casual conversation, especially with the enemy.”
Avalon frowned, slowly craning his head towards the Bael.
“Sylas.”
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
Sylas felt a sharp chill crawl down his spine as his skin paled, his body taking a reflexive step backwards while he was left utterly speechless.
Avalon had just talked back to him!
Something he had never done before!
“Wha-”
And to make matters worse, for some reason Sylas felt too intimidated to reprimand him at the moment.
Such was the result of Avalon’s switch being flipped through the thrill of battle.
‘You can’t see it, but his expression right now is priceless.’ Tomoe relished in Sylas’s bewilderment.
“So, Armaros, don’t you think it’s about time you reveal them?” He pointed above the Cadre, where nothing but the sky was visible.
“Haha! You can even see through Sahariel’s creation? You’re something alright, Avalon.” He tugged on the invisible blanket in the air, which completely dwarfed the one Sahariel used to hide his defense against Lith.
One could hear the round of gasps coming from Sylas’s men, each of them assuming their battle stance the second they witnessed the spectacle in front of them.
8,000 Fallen Angels.
Not Scourges.
Actual, flesh and blood Fallen Angels, each wearing the same sets of armor that Sahariel’s were.
8,000 was a big number even by Devil standards, but for the Fallen Angels, it was colossal.
“Scourges can only take us so far, at some point we have to call upon our real strength to protect our home.” Armaros sported a smug grin, all of the soldiers behind him were a part of his personal army, one that had been cultivated since the Great War.
An army that eclipsed Lith’s both in experience and numbers.
And that experience was made crystal clear by the pressure each of Armaros’s soldiers were exuding.
“I’ve been dying to see what the real thing looked like,” Avalon almost felt tempted to clap. “And I can say with full confidence that I have not been disappointed, not even a little.”
‘Sylas will definitely lose against them, but as long as he can hold out until I kill Armaros, then I should be able to help.’
Avalon had no delusions about taking on both Armaros and his army at the same time.
This time Avalon was the one to put his hand on Sylas’s shoulder.
“Do your best,” there wasn’t even a hint of sympathy in his voice.
Nor was there any reason to be, Sylas had chosen to be a General.
This was just part of the job wasn’t it?
“Can’t you call-”
“Call my peerage? I’m afraid not, if you were paying attention to our little chat just then. You would’ve heard that they’re also busy fighting Cadres, but don’t panic. As long as you can hold them off for long enough, I should be able to come help you.”
Sylas grit his teeth together, his frustration and dread building up as the reality of his situation started to sink in.
Even he could tell, Armaros’s soldiers were on a completely different level than his!
“You seem confident,” Armaros also started to walk towards him, intent on meeting one another in between their respective armies.
“I’m a brat, isn’t it my right to be cocky at a time like this?” The closer he got to the Cadre, the wider his grin grew.
‘I much prefer this side of you, why can’t you be like this more often?’ Tomoe’s remark went totally ignored, in spite of the Kyuubi literally speaking into Avalon’s mind.
“Indeed, it is your right.”
Their speed continued to grow faster and faster, until the point where they were just outright sprinting towards one another.
Avalon reinforced his body with Demonic Power, and coated his skin in Touki.
He called forth Muramasa as the sound of his feet splashing against the mud resonated through the air.
Clang!
And once both sides heard the sound of Avalon’s blade clashing with Armaros’s axe, it had become clear to them.
The battle had begun.
“That’s an interesting shield you have there,” Avalon remarked as he struggled to best Armaros in their battle of physical strength.
‘The Demonic Power in Muramasa is getting weaker the longer my blade touches his shield, I don’t get it.’
“My specialty is Anti-Magic, I trust you can figure out the rest?”
Avalon’s eyes widened upon hearing that, causing him to jump up and plant both feet on Armaros’s shield, using it as a platform to kick himself backwards to put some distance between them and reconsider his approach.
‘Anti-Magic? I see, if that’s the case then it would be a waste to use external spells. It’d be smarter to focus on strengthening myself internally, and trying to best him with my swordsmanship.’
Armaros was someone who had fought against the original Four Great Satans in the Great War, therefore Avalon didn’t believe he could surpass him in a contest of pure melee technique.
However, his speed was on a completely different level than Armaros.
That was how he would win.
Armaros felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, a result of Avalon disappearing seemingly out of nowhere.
The Cadre quickly honed his senses, searching his surroundings to see where the Devil had gone.
‘Behind? No! Above!’
Almost falling for the feint, Armaros narrowly managed to put his shield above his head in time.
‘This is no good, Muramasa will only continue to lose its strength if I keep letting it touch his shield! That axe also seems to have the same properties as the shield from what I can tell.’
Avalon decided to give up the attack of his own volition, evading the follow-up swing of Armaros’s axe and performing a swift low sweep to knock the Cadre off his feet.
“Idiot, did you really think I wasn’t capable of something as elementary as reinforcement?” Armaros mocked Avalon as the latters foot connected with his shin.
Armaros was like a boulder, steadfast and completely unmoving.
“Well, you fought pretty well for a child.”
Confident that he had enough of an opening to deliver the finishing blow, Armaros raised his axe over his head, and swung downwards with all his might.
But Avalon was nowhere near ready to let the fight end.
He puffed his chest and cheeks up, releasing a torrent of scorching blue flames at Armaros’s face from his mouth, causing the Cadre to stumble backwards as he used his cape as a fire blanket to protect his skin.
‘Hahaha! That’s more like it!’ Tomoe certainly seemed to be enjoying the spectacle.
“What’s wrong? I thought you were going to end me there?” Avalon couldn’t help but grin, putting his hand on his mud-covered knee and hauling himself to his feet.
Armaros frowned, putting his hand on his semi-charred face.
“Fox Fire, so the Youkai you’re keeping in your body is a Kitsune. No, judging by the intensity of your Ki, it’s probably something on par with the fabled Kyuubi.” The Cadre thought aloud with an alarming amount of composure.
A few burns weren’t nearly enough to crush his millenia-old spirit.
“And people say I’m perceptive,” Avalon chuckled.
“Perception comes with age and experience, it’s nothing special.” Armaros shrugged the compliment off. “Hey, I know this is kind of an odd time, but you wouldn’t happen to be alright with entertaining another question of mine?”
“I don’t mind.”
There was no use in trying to stall against Avalon, since he’d detect whatever trap had been laid long before it could be sprung.
“You wouldn’t happen to be another Non-Devil would you? Like the Crimson Satan and the moss-haired one?”
Avalon tilted his head upon hearing the term.
“Non-Devil?” It took a second for Armaros’s meaning to sink in. “Oh, that’s what you mean. Yes, I am indeed a Non-Devil like them.”
Ajuka had once told him that Super Devils weren’t actually Devils, but supposedly something more.
And since Sylas wasn’t exactly in a situation where he could afford to listen in on their conversation, he didn’t mind divulging it.
“I thought as much, a Devil your age shouldn’t physically be capable of being this strong, storing a Youkai of that magnitude in their body, or using a Demonic Sword without experiencing any corruption.”
Armaros sighed.
Existences like Avalon really were a huge pain in the ass.
“Oh, and there’s one last thing I’d like to ask,” Armaros seemed ready to get back into his battle stance. “You’re not really blind are you? That blindfold you’re wearing is a seal, it’s purposefully suppressing you.”
Avalon didn’t give him a verbal response, just a plain nod.
“Don’t you think now’s a good time to take it off?”
He remained silent, raising Muramasa and pointing it at Armaros.
In other words, “make me.”
“Fair enough,” Armaros scoffed.
To Avalon’s surprise, instead of continuing the fight, Armaros decided to reach into his attire and withdraw what looked to be some sort of small object.
“What are you doing?” Avalon asked.
“I mean, at this rate I’m going to lose, and I can’t really afford to let that happen given what’s behind me. So I’ve decided to take on a gamble,” he shrugged.
“A gamble?” Avalon scratched his cheek.
In Armaros’s hand was a small, black, chess piece.
And to Avalon’s further confusion, it was looked to be a King piece.
“This’ll either kill me on the spot, or make me strong enough to annihilate you. A rather thrilling game of dice don’t you think?”
As Armaros brought the piece closer to his mouth, a memory flashed through his mind.
A long time ago, when he had first arrived at the border with Zeoticus and Venelana, he had inspected the carriages that had been attacked by the Fallen Angels.
(AN: See “Chapter 6: Shadow Of Conflict” for reference, recommended to pay attention to Sylas’s segment at the end.)
In those carriages, he came across some sort of blue powdery substance that had been left behind, the traces of them being so small that he was the only one capable of detecting them.
He had given that substance to his father to examine in further detail.
And the result?
Remnants of Agares Crystals.
The material necessary to create the Evil Pieces, something that had no business being transported in carriages designated for food and medical supplies.
The discovery had put the Agares Clan under suspicion, but till date nothing about them had come to light.
Which was even more suspicious in its own right.
‘Even if they’ve somehow reverse engineered the Evil Pieces, there’s no such thing as a King Piece.’
Not knowing what object in Armaros’s hand did, Avalon wasn’t sure what to make of it.
‘I don’t understand, what’s even the point of such a creation? Does it have the same boosting effect as the other pieces? Is that what he means by making him stronger? But what’s the killing part about?’
While Avalon was absorbed in his own thoughts, Armaros dropped the dark chess piece into his mouth, swallowing it in one go.
Avalon scratched his temple, not having the faintest clue as to what was going on.
A brief moment of silence ensued between them, both the Cadre and Super Devil seemingly waiting for something to happen.
‘Well… This is pretty awkward.’
Avalon resumed his battle stance, preparing to continue the fight after the strange interruption.
BOOM!
But out of nowhere, a torrent of Light Magic erupted like a pillar of sheer radiance from Armaros’s being.
One so potent that all the fighting on the battlefield seemed to come to a temporary pause, just so both Devils and Fallen Angels could turn to witness the spectacle.
The pillair reached into the sky, parting the clouds themselves and causing the downpour to stop.
The burns of Armaros’s face had completely healed, and Avalon could sense that his body had been rejuvenated with power that extended even beyond what a Cadre should be capable of storing.
This boost in strength went way beyond what an Evil Piece could offer!
Armaros took a deep breath, examining his arms and flexing them as he plastered an elated grin on his face.
“It would appear that luck isn’t on your side, Avalon.” The Cadre said with unwavering confidence. “The piece I just swallowed is capable of raising one’s strength from 10, to a whopping 100 times. However, the stronger the consumer is, the higher chance there is of death.”
“So that’s what you meant by a gamble, I understand now.”
Avalon had every right to be nervous beyond belief right now.
A Cadre was one thing, a super-charged Cadre was another.
But for some, he felt physically incapable of processing the well-justified fear he should be experiencing at the moment.
Like he had lost control over his own facial expression, the corners of his mouth starched to stretch.
His mind fully understood the threat in front of him, but his heart couldn’t be more ecstatic!
So what if luck wasn’t on his side?
When had it ever even been on his side to begin with? Even in his life before this one.
“You don’t seem very bothered,” Armaros observed.
“Why would I be? Your courage enabled you to take on the gamble, and it ended up paying off for you. That’s just how the world is sometimes, winning or losing being boiled down to nothing but plain luck.”
Avalon reached his hand up to his face, grabbing the fabric of his blindfold.
Sylas was in no position to watch him, unless he was willing to do so at the expense of risking his own life in the midst of a losing battle.
“I commend you Armaros, you’re ready to risk your life to protect that city from me.”
He started to pull it downwards.
“And, I’m ready to risk my life so I can take it from you.”
Eurus’s feather fell out from the back of his blindfold as he draped it around his neck, revealing his ethereal violet eyes which seemed to flow with boundless depth like the ocean itself.
Armaros felt a cold sweat run down his back, as if Avalon’s piercing stare alone were enough to drill a hole through his face.
‘I hope you’re ready, if you’re unable to make this work you’ll end up dead.’ Tomoe cautioned.
This time, Avalon brought forth the full extent of Tomoe’s Ki sealed inside him.
The white light covering him as a result of his Touki started to morph into a bright blue color.
His pupils were quick to contract, transforming from their rounded shape into slits like a Kitsune’s.
His hair started to lose his mother’s brown, replaced by Tomoe’s white as it grew to the point where it touched his neck.
His fingernails sharpened, resembling miniature knives.
A set of white fox ears appeared on the top of his head, alongside nine similarly colored fox tails unveiling from the back of his waist like a blossoming flower.
The tranquil presence of his Demonic Power vanished, now being home to the raging violence of Tomoe’s bloodlust given form.
The sounds of bones crunching in a grotesque manner could be heard as his muscles started to bulge like Armaros’s were, his veins now visible across each of his limbs.
He opened his mouth as a cascade of stream bellowed out from the sides, and his drastically sharpened canines were revealed.
“You’re not the only one with a second phase! Armaros!” Avalon cackled in an almost drunk fashion.
“Apparently not,” the Cadre couldn’t help but frown.
Succeeding in assimilating the modified King Piece was supposed to be the final nail in the coffin, Armaros certainly wasn’t expecting Avalon to be capable of going any further.
For him to have contended with Armaros at all was beyond impressive.
For him to continue to do so, even after his power-up was just plain madness.
Muramasa’s strength tripled, Fox Fire covering the entirety of the blade as Avalon decided to give it a single practice swing.
One that sent out a behemothic wave of fire Armaros’s way, the Cadre standing firm in response and holding up his shield to block the oncoming inferno.
“Fusing with that much Ki should have your internal energy in shambles,” Armaros spoke as he observed the mild burns that he had sustained even after successfully guarding himself. “However, that doesn’t seem to be the case for you. I suppose that’s just to be expected when it comes to Non-Devils.”
The initial shock of Avalon’s transformation started to subside.
So what if he could still match him in power? Armaros still had the upper hand in experience!
He still had victory in his sights, there was no reason for him to lose even an ounce of morale.
“I’m not interested in all this technical-shmenical talk anymore, Armaros,” Avalon planted his left foot into the ground, causing the earth beneath him to tremble under the might of his sheer strength. “I just want to continue our fight, we can chat all we want when we meet in the afterlife!”
“Alright then,” Armaros shifted his neck from side to side, cracking his bones.
Despite his strange appearance, Armaros didn’t fancy himself much of a battle-maniac.
Like most of his comrades, research is what interests him most.
However, just like Avalon, he could feel the thrill of battle coursing through his veins.
He could pretend all he wanted, but deep down he knew, he was enjoying this as well!
Fighting was fun!
Like speeding bullet trains, they both shot forth at one another, Avalon making the first impact as a result of his superior speed.
Muramasa clashed with Armaros’s shield, the sound of their metal grating against each other resounding through the atmosphere for all to hear and marvel in.
Armaros tried to take a swing at Avalon with his axe, but was instead met with the painful sensation of Avalon’s nails digging into his wrist, locking his other arm in place.
The Devil had chosen to wield Muramasa with one hand, sacrificing a good amount of strength he could put into swinging the Demonic Sword so he could counter all of Armaros’s follow-up attacks with his brute strength.
“You’ve become reckless,” but the Cadre was more than willing to endure the pain.
Now that Avalon’s grip on Muramasa was weakened, Armaros readied a shield bash to knock the freakishly-long sword out of his hands.
Clang!
All of a sudden, four of Avalon’s tails wrapped around his right arm, using his new appendages to endure the might of the shield bash head on and keep Muramasa firmly clamped between his fingers.
What kind of ludicrous fighting style was this?
Were tails even supposed to be used like that?
“Recklessness and youth go hand in hand!” Avalon bellowed, his grin unmoved, and his arm still shaking from the impact he had just received.
Armaros felt an abrupt searing sensation on the arm he was using to hold his axe, the Cadre shocked to see the entirety of his limb already covered in bright-blue flames.
Flames that now had crimson accents swirling through them, a result of Avalon fusing it with his Power of Destruction.
Armaros was an opponent unlike anything he had ever faced before, it was only right that he used every trick at his disposal to defeat him!
“I’ve never fought someone as annoying as you,” Armaros snickered, kicking Avalon in the stomach and distancing himself from the Devil temporarily.
Armaros clicked his tongue, observing the pretty much irreparable damage that had been done to his arm.
“Oh well, that’s just how war is sometimes.” He shrugged, dropping his shield and holding his axe with a not-on-fire arm.
He proceeded to lift the axe, and chop down on his own arm without hesitation!
He wasn’t about to let the fire spread, or let the rotting effect of being under Avalon’s Fox Fire and Power of Destruction take him out of the fight just yet.
It was just an arm, Grigori could always make him a prosthetic one later on anyways.
“And to think you called me the reckless one,” Avalon chortled. “Are you planning to take me down with just your axe?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” The fact that Armaros didn’t seem to hesitate even a little, deserved nothing less than Avalon’s complete respect.
Maybe that was just the difference between him and a Cadre who had lived through the Great War.
“Don’t tell me you're insulted or something?”
“No, nothing about you has insulted me, Armaros, not in the slightest.” Avalon extended his hand, flames building up at his fingertips. “The only insult is the pathetic excuse for a General behind me,” he chuckled.
The battle between him and Armaros had only gone on for a few minutes, and 3,000 Bael Clan soldiers had already died, with Armaros’s soldiers hardly receiving even a 1,000 casualties in turn.
Avalon was surprised that Sylas was even still alive.
“He’s the General? Seriously?”
“Yeah, hard to believe isn’t it?”
The mass of flames gathering around Avalon’s hand continued to grow larger and larger, to the point where it seemed like he was about to unleash an entire forest fire from his fingertips alone.
“I’ll say,” Armaros twirled his axe, steeling himself for what was to come.
Fwoosh!
An endless waterfall of vibrant flames rushed at Armaros, enough to cover the entirety of his legion of 8,000 Fallen Angels had Avalon aimed it the other way.
‘He has no other choice but to dodge, if he tries to block this in his current condition he’ll without a doubt be killed.’
Avalon’s thoughts suggested one outcome, but reality offered another.
The Super Devil’s eyes widened, bullets of sweat running down his skin as a result of what his senses told him.
‘This can’t be…’
“A-Armaros… You’re…”
The corners of Avalon’s lips twitched, a fearful smile appearing on his face as he found himself unable to process what the Cadre had just chosen to do.
“YOU’RE INSANE!”
He had chosen to sprint right through the flames!
He clearly had a death wish! He’d be a puddle of hot flesh before he even managed to get within a few meters of Avalon!
Splurt!
“W-What…?” Avalon slowly craned his head to the left, his shock only furthered by the Cadre’s continued madness.
Armaros’s axe was now embedded into Avalon’s left shoulder, he had thrown it through the fire while charging through it! And since the axe had Anti-Magic infused into it, Avalon’s senses had picked up on it a moment too late.
Blood started to leak out of his shoulder profusely, spilling onto the floor as Avalon’s control over his Fox Fire wavered every so slightly.
“There’s nothing wrong with a little insanity!” Armaros roared, his hair, clothes, and armor having all been burned off as his mangled appearance made it out the other side of Avalon’s fire.
His skin was nothing but a charred mess, parts of having turned liquid and dropping onto the floor like the blood from Avalon’s wound.
There was no feasible way he should be alive right now!
Yet here he was!
Avalon finally snapped out of his dread-induced trance once Armaros was only a hair’s breadth away from reaching the weapon lodged into his shoulder.
He raised Muramasa, taking full advantage of its reach to pierce through Armaros’s chest, and hoist his body into the air before the Cadre could attempt to do whatever he had planned.
“What a shame… cough cough… I was aiming for your… cough… neck…”
Avalon blinked repeatedly, part of him thinking that what he was experiencing was all part of a bad dream.
“Haha… Y-You almost got me.”
He pulled Muramasa out of his chest, causing Armaros’s body to drop to the ground as the Cadre finally succumbed to his injuries.
No, he shouldn’t have even made it to this point, he was supposed to have died while engulfed in Avalon’s flames.
How? Just how had this person gone beyond death itself to defeat the opponent in front of him?
Even Avalon’s all-seeing eyes could not answer that question.
The figure of Armaros’s mangeled body sprinting through the fire had been forever engraved into his memory.
Avalon’s transformation came to an end, his ears and tails disappearing, his fangs, canines, and pupils returning to normal.
His hair also soon regained its brown color, save for a single streak of white hair that had been left behind at the front.
He propped his blindfold back around his face, his eyes having been pushed to their utmost limit.
He turned around, watching as time itself seemed to have stopped on the battlefield.
There wasn’t a single soldier who hadn’t been left breathless, regardless of whether they were a Fallen Angel or Devil. None of them could ignore the sensation of such a colossal amount of Light Magic disappearing from the terrain.
The child wearing a blindfold was standing.
And the Cadre wearing a helmet had fallen.
The battle between the Blindfold Devil and Anti-Magic Cadre had reached its conclusion.
“Surrender or continue, your choice.” Avalon spoke to the Fallen Angels, his breath still labored, with mud and blood covering the entirety of his frame.
Tears streamed down the faces of the Fallen Angels, they each raised their weapons once more. All of them feeling nothing but unadulterated wrath for the Devil in front of them.
Of course, they would avenge their leader!
The Blindfold Devil had been drastically weakened, and more than 3,000 of the Bael Clan soldiers had perished.
Now wasn’t the time to take their foot off the gas!
“I see, an extraordinary army befitting an extraordinary commander.” Avalon struggled to pull the axe out of his shoulder, but managed to get it done in the end. The properties of the weapon disturbed his regeneration a fair bit.
But he couldn’t rest now, there were still 7,000 high-level Fallen Angels teeming with bloodlust before him.
Until he killed them all, the battle was not over.
---
(Third Person)
Like Avalon, Lars knew better than to hesitate when the time called for quick, decisive action.
He stood firm in the middle of Lith’s army beside Iris, the Umbral Knight’s second-in-command, while Esdeath and Lith were at the front staring down Sahariel.
“Boy, are you sure-”
“You command. I’ll cast,” Lars boldly interrupted the blonde before she could speak.
But right as she was about to reprimand him, she was met with the sight of an alarming amount of Magic Circles appearing all over Lars.
Different colored lights started to surround Lith’s soldiers, each of them surprised to feel their bodies undergo certain changes.
Good changes, that was.
Their strength, speed, and perception all started to climb, as if Lars were trying to put them on equal footing with Sahariel’s armor-wearing Fallen Angels.
And to everyone’s surprise, it was working!
A mere child was actually managing to apply multi-layered buffs to 1,000 Devils all at once!
Being a Mage specialist herself, Iris was more stunned than all of them combined. She knew just how much mental prowess, fortitude, and Demonic Power one required to pull off such a feat.
But she could praise him another time, with how taxing the endeavor was for Lars it was unlikely he’d be able to maintain it for very long.
She needed to defeat all 1,000 of Sahariel’s soldiers before Lars’s strength ran out, that was the only way they could win.
“Sheesh, Blindfold’s cooked up one hell of a peerage.” Lith breathed an impressed whistle, him and Esdeath also under the effects of Lars’s support.
“I don’t have the faintest clue as to why they choose to follow such an intolerable King,” Esdeath scoffed.
“Interesting, he’s using spatial matter to lessen the burden of covering such a large number of units, but the focus required for the spells themselves is done purely by his own mental strength.”
Sahariel scratched his chin, smiling a little as he leaned over Esdeath and Lith to get a look at the Bishop.
“Maybe I ought to reconsider letting him live, that boy could grow up to be a serious threat.”
Despite Lith and Esdeath being only a few feet away from Sahariel, the Cadre continued to act as if their presences were of no consequence.
Which was infuriating, to say the least.
“You’ll have to get past me if you plan on doing that,” Esdeath pointed the tip of her rapier at him.
“Oh? Is that so?” Sahariel’s smile widened as he tilted his head to the left.
“Wha-!”
“Like this?” In the blink of an eye, Sahariel had appeared right beside Esdeath, the latter only being just about being able to react to him in time thanks to Lars’s support.
She thrusted her rapier at him with breakneck speed, aiming to plunge her alloy right through his neck.
“Such viciousnesses, not befitting your age at all.” Sahariel sighed. “I’d also suggest you stop scowling so much, you’ll get wrinkles.”
Bam!
Sahariel shot a lightning fast jab at her stomach, sending Esdeath flying in the opposite direction until she was caught by Lith who was still in his demonic form.
“You alright?”
“I’m fine!” She shoved him away, her annoyance rising as her impressive composition allowed her to recover from the blow fairly quickly.
“A tough one are we? Good, it’d be a shame if this were too one-sided.” Sahariel clasped his hands behind his back, paying no attention to the ongoing fight between his Fallen Angels and Lith’s soldiers, eagerly awaiting Esdeath’s next move.
“You can take some time to plan if you’d like, Armaros and Penemue aren’t the types to play with their food so I can at least do the courtesy of allowing you a little fun.”
Lith put his hand on her shoulder, noticing Esdeath’s rising frustration.
“He’s a Cadre, charging at him recklessly is a death sentence.”
“Maybe for you it is,” unfortunately, keeping her tame was an ability only Adaloth and her father seemed to possess. “I can handle him on my own, you should just sit back and enjoy the show.”
Lith grumbled, coming to terms with the fact that dealing with Esdeath was going to be nothing but daunting.
“But if you insist on getting involved, at least make sure you don’t slow me down.”
Or maybe not.
The temperature around them started to plummet, Esdeath’s light-blue locks starting to glow as her eyes burned with icy radiance.
“A vessel?” Sahariel seemed to understand what was happening with frightening speed. “Fascinating, your body should be able to provide me with some valuable insight post-mortem.”
The air continued to grow colder and colder, reaching the point where even the Devils and Fallen Angels fighting behind them were starting to feel a little frigid.
“I suppose knowing that you’re a vessel is only part of the mystery, what could you have housed inside that petite frame of yours I wonder?” Though Sahariel’s expression remained aloof, his internal thoughts were starting to change.
This girl wasn’t as weak as he had presumed.
Lith reflexively distanced himself from Esdeath, his intuition warning him that his blood might turn to sludge if he stayed near her any longer.
The amount of Demonic Power that gathered around her was truly something to revere, just how was someone so young capable of storing that much energy inside them?
She was just continuing to amass strength with no apparent end in sight.
“Alright, you’re not as frail as I thought, I’ll give you that.” Now Sahariel’s smile had flatout disappeared, replaced by a much more stern look on his face.
A javelin formed out of Light Magic appeared in the hovering Cadre’s hand as he arched his arm backwards, preparing to hurl it at Esdeath before she had the chance to finish whatever it was she was preparing.
And then it happened.
In what felt like a split second, everything around Sahariel felt like it had come to a stop.
No, that wasn’t it.
It was he who had stopped.
He couldn’t move an inch of his body, even breathing was no longer doable.
The entirety of his body had been encased in ice, and the activation of Esdeath’s attack had been so fast that even he, a Cadre, couldn’t anticipate it in time.
“Woah,” Lith was left flabbergasted.
Had Esdeath just one-shot a Cadre?
Shatter!
Apparently not.
“That’s quite the trick you pulled there,” Sahariel said with slightly shaky breath, having broken out of the ice-coffin with his brute strength. “You release particles of your Demonic Power into the atmosphere, enabling you to unleash attacks instantaneously regardless of the distance between you and your target.”
“Complaining, are we?” She met him with a mocking grin.
“No, it’s my fault for underestimating your abilities. It was a good attempt, but I won’t be falling for it a second time.”
It only took a few seconds for him to recover from all the damage being encased in Esdeath’s frost had done.
Cadres were durable if anything, Armaros having been an extreme example of that.
“If picking a fight with me is what you want to do, then I’ll happily grant your wish.” Sahariel snapped his fingers, conjuring fourteen Magic Circles above him, all pointed in Esdeath’s direction.
“I can’t help but feel like I’m being left out here,” Lith swung his Demonic Sword at the Cadre before his attack was unleashed, sending a crescent of raging Demonic Power at him.
“Unlike the girl, I don’t believe I’ve underestimated you.” Like Armaros, Sahariel was also perfectly capable of a simple ability like reinforcement, which he used to strengthen his arm and swat away Lith’s crescent with minimal effort.
“Is that so? I’m hurt,” figuring Sahariel for the mage-centric type, Lith decided to take his chances and close the distance between them. Confident that he’d fare better against the Cadre in close combat.
But even though his hunch was correct, Sahariel had still lived for millenia, it was inevitable that he would’ve at least explored martial arts techniques at some point, even if they weren’t at Armaros or Baraqiel’s level.
Sahariel’s arm flickered at a speed Lith couldn’t even begin to follow, enabling the Cadre to clasp his fingers around Lith’s throat and suspend him in the air, more likely than not intending to crush his esophagus.
“What a troublesome technique she has,” but Esdeath had reacted in time, attempting to solidify Sahariel’s arm so Lith could have a chance to escape from his clutches. “Fine, if you’re so intent on saving him, you can have him.”
Naturally, Sahariel valued his arm far more than killing a Devil he had already deemed inferior.
He tossed the Umbral Knight back at Esdeath as if he were a used rag, reversing their roles as this time she was the one to catch him.
“Now who’s charging at him recklessly?” She smirked.
“Haha, I couldn’t help it. I’ve been wanting to fight a Cadre since I was your age,” Lith breathed a weak chuckle.
He had never been as talented as Esdeath or Lars in his youth, and part of him knew that even with all the experience he had gained, he still wouldn’t be a match for a behemoth of an opponent like Sahariel.
Granted, he didn’t think the gap in strength would be so large that even in his demonic form he wouldn’t be able to hold a candle to the lab-coat wearing Fallen Angel.
Such was the unfair reality of the supernatural world.
Esdeath and Lith felt the hairs on the back of their necks stand up, both of them being forced to turn to the left as they felt a bone-chilling amount of Light Magic erupt from somewhere in the distance.
“I see, so Armaros is the one who ended up facing Souji Okita.” Even Sahariel had turned his head. “I’m shocked, I knew he’d be strong, but I didn’t think he was at a level where he could force Armaros to take such a risk.”
Of course, Sahariel knew what the eruption of Light Magic meant.
Armaros had decided to consume the modified King Piece, and succeeded.
A risk Sahariel wasn't willing to take, he wasn’t nearly as nihilistic as Eurus, but the only reason he hadn’t abdicated was out of a shallow sense of obligation for his people.
He was a man of research, not duty or honor. Death meant that he could no longer pursue his interests, therefore he had no intention of welcoming it.
“Well, Armaros is the strongest amongst us three. So if he’s managed to consume it, that should at least tip the scales in our favor.”
Now that Armaros’s strength had catapulted by leaps and bounds, Sahariel no longer had any reason to doubt Armaros’s ability to beat his opponent.
Armaros was probably the fourth strongest Cadre, only weaker than Baraqiel, Shemhazai, and Azazel himself.
The King Piece did need some time to fully stabilize its user’s power, but the immediate increase it offered should be more than enough to best the likes of Souji Okita.
Esdeath attempted to launch a surprise attack on Sahariel while he was supposedly distracted, conjuring snake-like formations of ice around him in order to bind him in place so she could launch a decisive follow-up hit.
“I told you, didn't I? There wouldn’t be a second time,” Sahariel shot out a hailstorm of sharpened feathers from his wings, destroying the formations in the split-second amount of time he had to react.
He was simply too experienced to get tunnel-visioned on the battlefield.
Sahariel continued to pay Esdeath no attention, instead turning his head to where his soldiers were supposed to be.
“Oh? It would appear that I was right, that brat seriously is a problem.”
His Fallen Angels were losing, narrowly, but losing nonetheless.
And Sahariel couldn’t be less interested, he wasn’t nearly as tight-knit with them as Armaros was. Nor did he ever fancy himself much of a military expert.
Sahariel’s armor did wonders, but apparently it wasn’t enough to keep up with Lars’s constant buffing, and Iris’s scarily accurate commanding ability.
“Alright, since they’re finishing up I suppose I should do the same.”
This time Sahariel was the one to take the initiative, conjuring an impressive amount of Magic Circles behind him all at once, this time launching his attack before Lith could try to intercept it.
Like a lethal rainstorm, hundreds of javelin-like constructs of Light Magic were unleashed upon Esdeath and Lith’s position.
Esdeath was quick to grab Lith by the collar, pulling him close and creating a shield of ice between them and protecting them from the barrage for the time-being.
“He’s about to hit us with something stronger to break your defense,” Lith notified her.
“Then make yourself useful and guard it, I’ll focus on countering him afterwards.”
As Lith had assumed, Sahariel was wielding a drastically larger javelin in his hands, one that looked capable of piercing through an entire mountain if the Cadre so wished.
Like an olympic athlete, Sahariel reeled the javelin backwards, and hurled it at Esdeath’s ice-shield with all his might.
CLANG!
Even if Lith’s full power wasn’t enough to go toe to toe with Sahariel, he could at least use it to block one full-powered projectile before his strength gave out.
The alloy of his Demonic Sword met with the javelin as it broke through the ice, sending Lith hurling hundreds of feet into the distance as he struggled to keep his arms from failing him.
And the very second his javelin met with Lith’s steel, a similar projectile made out of ice was thrown at him.
“You sacrificed him just for this pathetic excuse of a counter? I’m disappointed,” he held his hand out and spread his palm, fully prepared to block it with minimal effort.
But as it neared him, he noticed something was off, only a second too late to do anything about it.
Esdeath had embedded her rapier inside the ice!
The ice shattered against Sahariel’s skin, and the sharp metal entered through his hand, exiting out his elbow as he was filled with harrowing pain.
However, much to Esdeath’s surprise the Cadre was paying little attention to her and his wound, instead looking in the same direction where they had sensed the eruption of Light Magic.
Sahariel’s expression was that of sheer horror, he couldn’t even begin to comprehend what he was sensing.
Armaros had died!
“This can’t be… Even after consuming the piece, Souji Okita isn’t supposed to be that strong!”
He definitely sensed Ki from Armaros’s position, which obviously had to be a result of the Youkai Souji Okita was said to keep sealed within his body.
But was that really enough to defeat King Piece boosted Armaros? Even if he hadn’t had enough time to fully assimilate with it.
It couldn’t be, Sahariel refused to accept it.
But reality begged to differ, Armaros was without a doubt dead. The strongest amongst the three of them had fallen.
“No, even if he killed Armaros, Souji would still be heavily weakened after battling him. If I get there in time I should be able to finish him off,” Sahariel thought aloud while in the midst of his stupor, preparing to take off and head to where Armaros’s army was.
“You’re not going anywhere,” with the rapier still embedded inside his arm, Esdeath was able to make use of her Demonic Power stored inside it from afar and cause the ice to spread throughout his body internally.
Lith risking his life to block Sahariel’s attack had not been in vain.
“Tch, I’ll just make a new one when I get back to my lab.” Adamant to finish off ‘Souji Okita’ while he was still vulnerable, Sahariel didn’t waste a second cutting his own arm off much like Armaros.
“Retreating from a mere child, have you no pride as a Cadre?” Another voice spoke.
It was Lars.
He had lifted his support for Lith’s normal soldiers, which now numbered at 400, focusing everything into buffing Esdeath, and maintaining his own Demonic Power. The quantity of which could be attributed to the two Bishop pieces he had received from Avalon, and his own innate talent.
His Magic Spheres had already created a formation around Sahariel, tethers latching onto his wrists and ankles as the Fallen Angel was held firmly in place by some sort of spatial binding spell Lars had created. One that he had developed with the help of Echidna’s knowledge.
Little did he know, stopping Sahariel just now had saved Avalon’s life, the current state of his King not nearly being enough to handle another Cadre.
Especially considering that he still had to fight 7,000 wrath-fueled Fallen Angels while in his weakened state.
“Pride is nothing but a self-inflicted burden,” Sahariel scoffed, noticing the sweat running down Lars’s forehead, alongside his pale complexion.
As one would expect, pushing oneself as much as he had demanded an extensive toll on his stamina.
But even so, his tenacity extended far beyond what his laid-back demeanor would suggest.
“So is idiocy,” Lars was quick to retort, adjusting a set of runes that had appeared on the Magic Circle in front of them, ordering the spatial bindings holding Sahariel to start to twist and contort, as if he were trying to subject the Cadre to medieval torture.
“Talking about idiocy and then proceeding to try to bind me while you can hardly hold your breath? I find it a bit hypocritical,” Sahariel’s Light Magic spread into the tethers trying to keep him in place, the Cadre still capable of breaking them like a twig even with a missing arm.
Spatial Manipulation was not omnipotent, if the gap in strength between the caster and their opponent was big enough, it didn’t matter whether they had a specially tailored counter or not.
Naturally, Lars more than understood such a basic concept.
“I’m not the one you should be worrying about,” Lars grinned.
Like a torpedo, an enormous javelin created out of ice plunged itself deep into Sahariel’s back, exiting out of his chest as the Cadre was forced to look down at the sight in horror.
“Just thought I’d return the favor,” Esdeath smirked, having chosen the shape of her construct on purpose.
How had he been caught off guard? His awareness was supposed to be superior to both Esdeath and Lars’s combined.
“Confused? Then allow me to enlighten you, I wasn’t focusing my Spatial Manipulation into binding you. I was focusing it into weakening your spatial awareness, something which you seemed to have overlooked in your arrogance. These flimsy tethers were just a distraction.”
Sahariel’s eyelids couldn’t be stretched any wider, he stared at Lars in complete disbelief as blood started to trickle out of his mouth. The Fallen Angel moments away from succumbing to his fatal wound.
One opening, that’s all the mere child in front of him had to work with.
And he had turned it into a killing blow!
As Avalon would put it, Lars truly was a ‘natural-born genius.’
“Hah… Haha… Hahahahahahaha!”
Lars frowned, confused as to why Sahariel had started to break out into laughter.
“Good! Excellent! Splendid! To think there was talent in your generation strong enough to trump even me, I’m thoroughly impressed! Child, would you mind telling me your name?”
Part of Lars was convinced that Sahariel was stalling for something, but the Bishop decided to humor the Cadre nonetheless.
“Lars.”
“Lars, I see. That’s a nice name, a nice name indeed.” He started to reach for something with his still remaining arm, causing Lars to flinch as he prepared himself to spring into action.
But then Lars stopped.
Sahariel had died before he could do whatever it was he was about to do.
A rather anticlimactic death, but there was only so much one could do when their heart had been pierced.
Not everyone could go out in a glorious inferno like Armaros.
“What’s with the gloomy expression? We just killed a Cadre!” Esdeath asked, noticing the grim look Lars had on his face as he faced elsewhere.
And apparently, Sahariel wasn’t the only example.
“LITH!” Esdeath yelled the minute her eyes tracked where Lars was looking.
---
(Third Person)
Klauth wasn’t sure what to think of his current situation.
On the one hand, progressing through his side of the expanse had been effortless to say the least, with the amount of casualties his side had sustained hardly being anything worth mentioning.
On the other hand, he didn’t feel like much of a commander at the moment.
Other than his Demonic Beasts being responsible for tracking the residual Demonic Power Avalon had used to mark the hidden cores, all the heavy lifting had been done by Adaloth.
She wiped out hundreds of Scourges with just the wave of her hand, manhandled Sentinels as if they were ragdolls, and to make matters worse the presence of him and his soldiers was only holding her back.
If she used her Power of Destruction while they were present, they would be eviscerated alongside whatever opponent was unfortunate enough to be faced with it.
Adaloth herself didn’t care much for their lives, but she did care about Avalanche, so she refrained from using too much of her strength.
Klauth’s soldiers also seemed to share his sentiment as they all watched her figure casually advancing forwards in front of them.
Was there really any point to them being here?
At the very least, they hoped they’d see more action when they actually arrived at Mortis.
“What is it?” Adaloth asked, noticing that Avalanche had started to snarl and lower his head towards the ground, clearly perturbed by something.
She looked around, confident that all the Sentinels and Scourges had already been defeated.
And then all of a sudden, she felt the sensation of something sharp attempting to pierce its way through her back, only to fail hopelessly at doing so.
The stabbing feeling was followed-up by a nuclear-like explosion of Light Magic that almost neared the level of Armaros’s eruption when he assimilated with the King Piece.
Notwithstanding, it did absolutely no damage whatsoever.
“Oh?” Adaloth turned around, intrigued to see a figure wearing a pitch-black cloak, holding a high-tech looking dagger in their hands.
Their expression was that of pure dread, bullets of sweat covering their face as they attempted to wrap their mind around how their surprise attack had failed.
Adaloth reeled her arm backwards, delivering a thunderous blow to the figure’s midsection which sent them hurling into the dirt like a crash-test dummy.
“I see, so this is an ambush.” She heard the sound of metal clashing over where Klauth was, Fallen Angels appearing seemingly out of thin air and starting to assault the Auten Clan Head while his guard was down.
She wasn’t sure how many there were since she didn’t have Lars or Avalon’s perception, but at first glance she estimated that they were at least in the thousands. All suited up in some strange futuristic armor that looked like it belonged in a sci-fi movie.
It didn’t really matter all that much to her, even if Klauth lost, she could just deal with them later.
But before that, she needed to get rid of the person in front of her who somehow survived her punch. One that would’ve obliterated the bones of any regular Fallen Angel to smithereens.
“You’re perseverant, I’ll give you that.” Adaloth commented, observing as the cloaked figure wearily hauled themselves to their feet.
“Cough… cough… You’re not supposed to be alive…” The figure pulled back their hood, revealing themselves to be a woman.
She had long purple hair that reached down to her waist, and had strong-looking orange eyes coupled with rectangular glasses that had been shattered from Adaloth’s punch just now.
“What is that even supposed to mean?” Adaloth corked her head to the side. “If I wasn’t supposed to be alive then I would be dead, which I’m not.” She scratched her head, more focused on contemplating the phrase than the actual ‘fight’ that was about to ensue itself.
Little did Adaloth know, the woman in front of her was Benemune, a Cadre, and the Chief Secretary of Grigori.
She had been watching the battle from afar using the same spatial cloaking blanket as Sahariel and Armaros to mask her and her soldier’s presence, and it was practically impossible to not notice Adaloth.
She was without a doubt the biggest threat on the battlefield, which is why she had moved herself to personally deal with her.
Adaloth had two prime weaknesses that an opponent could exploit, her lack of awareness, and her lack of speed, which ironically enough were things her brother was overwhelmingly dominant in.
Benemune had exploited the first to get in close enough without her noticing, and the second to deliver her surprise attack.
And even though she had succeeded in doing so, her efforts ended up bearing no fruit.
Since Adaloth couldn’t go all out with the Auten soldiers around, Benemune had been unable to witness the full extent of her strength, making the Cadre unable to reliably estimate how strong her defense was.
Then again, even if she had accurately gauged it, there was no guarantee the Cadre would be able to do anything about it.
“Oh well, I have somewhere to be right now, so I’d appreciate it if you got out of my way.” Adaloth said casually, not caring to identify the person before her.
“Haha… I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works…” Benemune clutcher her stomach, wiping the stream of blood that had started to leak out of her mouth.
The armor she was wearing started to shift, covering her face with a battle-mask and administering some sort of emergency treatment to keep her from passing out.
“Things work the way people want them to, if you want to live then flee, if you want to die then don’t. Either way, it’s you making the decision here, not me.”
Adaloth’s voice was filled with nothing but stark indifference, winning or losing the war, killing or not killing Fallen Angels, they didn’t align with what she had in mind. So either outcome was acceptable to her.
If Benemune decided to turn tail and flee this very second, she would make no effort to give chase. Not that she had any faith in her ability to catch her in the first place.
She was not her brother, she had no burning desire for battle or the thrill it offered.
Whatever happened, happened.
“You’re awfully hollow for a child,” Benemune breathed a grim chuckle, finally managing to recompose herself from the singular strike she had received. “Is this how Devil children are raised nowadays?”
“Maybe,” Adaloth shrugged, reaching into her garments and pulling out a strange looking seal.
The paper was completely black with red engravings on it.
She wrapped the seal around her wrist, breathing a deep sigh as he opened her palm and pointed in towards the female Cadre.
Benemune noticed that the destructive presence around Adaloth had started to dim, suddenly becoming significantly more composed and tame.
“I only have 2 of these, but I have a hunch that my idiot brother has gotten himself in trouble as per usual. So I suppose I’ll have to waste one on you.”
Her beady yellow eyes lit up like the morning sun, sparks of red lightning with black currants in them erupting around her as Benemune’s expression paled.
She needed to run!
The Cadre wasn’t sure why she felt this way, but she knew better than to doubt her instincts.
“Don’t bother, we used his Demonic Power to create this, its accuracy pretty much makes it a guaranteed hit.”
In a split second, Benemune’s vision turned to pitch blackness.
