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Thank you for understanding.
The wind blew through the Zertinan Caverns, causing dust to scatter occasionally.
Monsters milled about in the many passages, waiting for their next meal.
The Catoblepas, dwarfing its fellows, wandered about as well.
One could faintly hear the occasional sounds of screaming.
Deeper within the cave, corpses littered the passage.
An old man in weathered blue robes limped his way, holding a beautiful spear that shined silver. He let out a long sigh as he reached his destination, his labored breathing evident.
Staggering into the larger room, he smiled with a wheezing cough as he gazed upon the tornado. In the center of the cavern was a pit with a tornado swirling above it.
A young man in black armor was standing in front of it, with a blade of red crystal at his side.
"Yet another challenges the Wroth." An echoing voice rang throughout the sandy halls.
"And yet another shall fall." The young man spoke confidently.
The twister subsided, revealing the Scion. Adrammelech, the Wroth hovered there, floating on his fell wings.
It merely waved a clawed hand, and hordes of undead burst through the sands and attacked their foe.
The old man lifted the spear and simply waited.
As the undead engulfed him, a single sound was heard.
Of slicing. The zombies exploded in a cloud of dust, shredded by the spear.
The man in black armor gasped angrily, and drew his flaming sword before lunging.
The old man simply disappeared, reappearing just in front of The Wroth.
The spear was buried in the younger man's chest, piercing his heart.
Blood splattered the sands as the Esper's defender shuddered, gasping for air.
The wizened old man rose his hand, striking the Scion with Flare before it could even react.
However, just as the magick blasted the Esper, a single word was uttered.
Abraham
The dying defender disappeared as the attack defeated Adrammelech.
The old man smiled, lifting his right hand.
A golden clawed gauntlet, just as weathered as his robes, glowed.
Thirteen slots on it gleamed.
Seven were filled with stones of different colors, odd glyphs emblazoned on those gems.
The eighth slot glowed, and a green stone with the glyph of Adrammelech appeared, shimmering brightly.
A coat of arms was branded onto the gauntlet, with a set of symbols that translated to a single word.
Elijah
Elijah let out a loud cough, turning the spear into a small ring which he slipped on his finger.
"…Five more…cough…to go." He wheezed to himself before slowly limping away.
All that remained was the crimson crystal blade, impaled in the sand in front of the pit.
And nothing more.