84. Family (2)
And she probably was.
"Why do you want to become a holy knight?"
Gilthunder stared ahead.
"What is your motivation?"
There was the sound of an ominous thud, and he stared ahead.
"You don't have to follow my footsteps," his father, Zaratas, had said so long ago. He couldn't quite remember his face. How did his father looked like again? "But- I'm proud. I'm really proud of you, Gilthunder."
He remembered the same move used against the Serpent's Sin, holes punctured through the giantess' body. It was a disturbing sight, for entire pieces of your own flesh was vaporized in an instance. Except, those from the Giant Clan should never be underestimated. They were physically superior, not to mention their sheer will- it was unwavering. That was how Diane of the Seven Deadly Sins survived thus long. She was powerful.
But- but Meliodas.
(A small, grabby hand held his finger, blue eyes meeting the roundest green. The baby burst into happy babbles, and-)
His little brother's left arm was completely missing, his severed hand (his wrist was completely gone, even eating to the edge of his palm) limp on the ground.
Meliodas fell back, and Gilthunder felt his heart stop.
Because a holy knight should never let their eyes off of the opponent. Because a holy knight should always be paying attention to the right now.
They spent ten years formulating their plan in secret. They spent ten years gathering all the information they possible could under Lady Gelda's quiet guidance.
(All to inform Lady Elizabeth, the official unofficial leader of the undefeatable Seven Deadly Sins, for she was of the only individuals to gather them back together again.)
Armor creaking as he shifted on his feet. Unblinking, he twisted his sword in his hands, electricity sparking with bright blue.
The monster, so apathetically and without remorse, swung his blade at the younger (no longer the nephew- no longer family). The blade nearly sliced through his armor. Gilthunder moved back.
And another blow, magic charged. Gilthunder held his breath, trying to dodge-
"But should you be doing this?" A murmur. Dark shadows were covering unfamiliar purple eyes. "If you are so concerned of your princess."
Margaret.
There was the sense of magic that was building up. The man who was no longer his uncle prepared his weapon with such profession, eyes cold and narrowed. He was alien to him. Since the day they (both of them, Hendrickson and Dreyfus) plotted and murdered his father in cold blood, Gilthunder could not ever recognize them.
The streets were empty, full of debris and torn up walls. It was oddly quiet, distant booming vibrating from afar. He wondered what was happening there.
But there was no one here.
Only him, this monster, and his baby brother bleeding out on the ground behind him-
Dreyfus, shooting his unbreakable sword forward, prepared for a killing blow.
Margaret. Meliodas.
Margaret. Meliodas.
Margaret. Meliodas.
Father.
What do I do?
A flicker of black. And then it disappeared.
Blonde entered his vision, the silhouette of a young knight.
Gilthunder's eyes widened.
I'm really proud of you, Gilthunder, his father had said.
The older brother stifled back a cry.
I'm really proud of you, as well, Meliodas.
When he saw his brother fall back, his vision doubling and desperation and anxiety gathering, Meliodas found himself getting back to his knees.
It was this sense of desperation, he suddenly thought of his father's death.
Gilthunder was in trouble.
Their uncle was going to kill him. Their uncle-
During that split second, he realized. It was a connection he would never thought of making until this very moment.
Their father's killer. Was it him?
Dreyfus?
Leaning down, he grabbed for Cain's old sword. His severed left hand fell loose as he pushed himself forward, the broken blade held tightly in his right hand.
He had no signs of magic. As an apprentice holy knight, he was frustrated on the fact he didn't show any sign of improving. Could it be that he really had no talent for this? Was this it? The thought itself was sad. So heavy.
So awful. The darkness he was granted by drinking the demon's blood, it was so eerie and gross as it ran down his throat. That power, while useful and definitely powerful, couldn't possibly be his. It was practically borrowed power in the end.
But could he ever awaken it?
His own magic power?
Getting himself in front of his brother, with the swing of his arm, he sliced the air between Dreyfus' Pierce and Gilthunder and himself.
(Three thousands years ago, he used the same move. Back shielding his comrades, the King of the Fairies and the King of the Giants both, he swung his weapon at the Commandment of Piety's hellfire.)
"Get-" the young knight bit out, emerald eyes blown wide as he yelled out loud- "away from my brother, Fraudrin!"
Full Counter.
Thank you for reading!
ko.
(But the thing was- he was not sure why he yelled out that name. Fraudrin? Who was that?)
(The sight of a silver haired women standing alone within a ravaged kingdom lingered at the back of his mind. He could not see her clearly. It was grey and raining.)
(It was an odd feeling. A truly odd and sad feeling.)
("You're alive," he heard himself say. He was lying limp in her arms. She was crying.)
(No, no. Don't cry. Please don't cry.)
(His body moved on its own. Faded, he smiled weakly. The black markings on his skin shifted. This was death.)
("Thank you.")