Cetanu watched closely as Sylvain made the first move, charging forward at his brother without any hesitation, jabbing his lance out as it slid in his grip, it's range increasing as the momentum carried it forward. Miklan brought up a heavy metal shield, blocking the tip of the lance.

Sylvain pulled back, a quick glance telling him that his lance took more damage than the shield. This made fighting his brother far more difficult, as a body covered in armor and a shield, not to mention a Hero's Relic and his brother's superior size all made for a difficult opponent. Even with superior agility and magickal ability, Sylvain was wondering how he'd come out on top in this battle.

His brother seemed to wait for him, his armor and shield making him a wall that had no need to take the offensive. Cetanu narrowed his eyes, wondering if that was infact the case. Could it be that with the heavy armor and shield, that Miklan was limiting himself in return for greater defensive capability? What good was that?

Sylvain flipped the lance in his hand, catching it by the center of the staff in an underhanded grip, launching it like a missile at Miklan's head. He charged behind the flying weapon, hoping to at the least damage the shield.

Sylvain watched his brother bring up his shield to block the lance. Sylvain saw the metal tip bounce off the wall like shield, jumping to catch the weapon and pull back while his body was still in midair. He charged his arm with as much of his magickal energy as he could muster in a split second, hurling the lance again, this time directly at the shield.

The force of the throw made Sylvain float back a few feet, his feet hitting the ground as the lance struck Miklan's shield once again. This time, the magickally charged weapon slammed into the shield, cracking the metal and forcing Miklan back, his heels digging into the ground as he slid towards a wall.

"Is that the best you got you damn brat!?" Miklan shouted, casting his damaged shield away. Cetanu watched it crash to the ground and crack the stone, letting him know that the thing was incredibly heavy, and could likely double as a battering ram. He tilted his head, running scenarios through his head as Sylvain rose to his full height to meet his brother.

Thankfully, the force of the attack had saved his lance from too much more damage, the magick reinforcing the metal tip. The younger Gautier picked the weapon up, both brothers glaring at each other. Sylvain knew that he still held a few advantages, like speed and magickal prowess, but lacking in terms of strength and defensive ability, and stamina as well, would cause him problems if this fight lasted very long.

Miklan took his turn to go on the offensive, charging Sylvain with a battle cry that belied his hatred for his younger sibling. His movement wasn't very swift, weighted down by his heavy armor, something that confused Sylvain. His brother turning himself into some kind of armored knight was unusual, but he assumed that it was an intimidation tactic, one that worked well enough.

"Are you really gonna let them kill each other?" Yuri asked, approaching Cetanu as he watched them clash. The demon didn't take his eyes off of the fight for a second, watching the lances collide and bounce off of each other.

"Sylvain will not fall. Even if he isn't victorious, I will simply step in." he said, his tone flat and dead. Yuri picked up on this, wondering if this was something that was specific to Cetanu, or if all Fleshcrafters turned into war machines in battle.

"Miklan is the only one left, and we're all here. Why not just rush him and take him out?" he asked, and Cetanu watched Sylvain take an armored boot to the chest before he looked to Yuri.

"I understand that battle is not your forte, but surely as an Artist you can appreciate the sight of two estranged siblings forced into a fight to the death as it rains around them." he said, and Yuri looked to the nearest window, and sure enough, the sky was grey and rain was pouring down.

"That's not what I'm talking about. There's a reason that you chose to let them fight. We're merely guards, lumberjacks carrying a felled tree by hand. Why?" he asked, and Cetanu watched as Sylvain slammed his lance into Miklan's chest, denting the breastplate and making him cough.

"Because I am a teacher. It is my job to lead my students along my Path until they find their own when they've grown and evolved." he said, and Yuri hummed. That made sense, and as he looked to Sylvain, who was going blow for blow with his brother, powered sheerly by adrenaline, he kind of understood.

He looked to the other demon. "What Path is that? Are they walking the Path of a Mercenary, or the Path of a student?" he asked, and Cetanu felt his lips tug downwards.

Sylvain kicked Miklan back, both brothers panting and worn from their battle. It was a glorious spectacle, one that Cetanu was trying to focus on. But, for all of Yuri's skill, magickal power and good looks, he was clearly lacking in terms of intelligence. And not wit, intelligence.

"Neither. I am a Fleshcrafter that is a teacher. The Path I walk for myself, that I lead others on until they find their own, is the Path of Metamorphosis. Everything grows, evolves, changes. It's my job to make sure that those changes are for the better. Now shut up and turn your pretty little gaze back to the fight." he said, a slight hint of venom in his voice.

"Why won't you stay down!?" Miklan shouted, tearing his breastplate off and casting it aside, shaking his legs free of his armor, which was heavily dented from the fight. Sylvain was leaning on his lance, wobbly and weak from the fight, but still fighting. Blood trailed from multiple wounds across his arms and legs, and he was sure that his uniform was soaked from wounds that he couldn't see or didn't want to look for.

"Because… I can't lose to you." he said, coughing and wheezing as Miklan's grip on the Lance of Ruin tightened.

"You think you're so much better than me! I'm going to shut that arrogant mouth of yours for good!" he shouted, charging forward with far more speed than before, the armor he shed liberating his body. Sylvain shifted his weight, trying to stand tall and meet his brother. He couldn't, and his mind drifted to a training session he had with Asmodeus. He hadn't learned too much from his tutor, but he learned one thing from the flamboyant warrior.

Sylvain shifted his remaining dregs of magickal power to his right leg, flexing the sore, bleeding muscles and gritting his teeth at the pain. He watched his brother closely, seeing him lift the lance overhead with both hands. He inhaled, praying to the Goddess that this worked.

Miklan came straight down, his anger clouding his ability to choose a harder to avoid attack. Sylvain kicked his charged leg to the left, the force making him slide away from the attack, the redhead twisting his body to whirl his leg back, his heel colliding with his brother's temple, forcing him to stumble.

Sylvain used the force of the impact to spin in a counter clockwise circle and bend his leg, leaning into the momentum and slamming his knee into Miklan's face, sending him crashing to the ground, blood spraying from his face as he fell back.

Sylvain let his foot hit the ground, his body completely wiped out. His vision went hazy, and he stumbled, shaking his head and looking to his brother. He could see that his brother was defeated, his body barely moving, his breathing shallow and spaced out. And yet, despite falling honorably in battle, he still gripped the Lance of Ruin with a desperate paranoia.

The Blue Lions had barely reached Sylvain to congratulate him on his victory when Miklan sat up, blood pouring from his nose and temple. He looked like hell, his mussed hair hanging over his face and blending in with the blood. He struggled to his feet, the group of students on edge as Miklan stood tall again.

"I'm not done yet!" he screamed, incensed by what everyone around him perceived as a loss. "I refuse to fall in some shitty tower! I will not die fighting my spoiled brat of a brother!" he screamed, and the Lance of Ruin seemed to respond to him.

The crest stone within the weapon flashed a bright color, the lance lighting up with an eerie reddish light before the stone flashed a black color for a split second. Magickal, almost wraith like tendrils spawned from the Crest Stone, wrapping around Miklan's arm. The disowned noble looked to them, confused for a split second. He reached for them, to try and pull them off as they spread up his arm and shoulder.

"What the fuck is this!?" he shouted, struggling against the tendrils as they continued to spread through his body and consume him. Sylvain's face belied a similar horror to his brother, who began to scream as he realized his struggles were pointless. He pulled and tore at the shadows, but they only wrapped around his body and began to swell, increasing in size as his screams were muffled out by the thick, almost visible miasma about his body.

Cetanu watched this with a morbid fascination. He was always curious about Hero's Relics, and seeing that this was what they did to people without Crests was something he never could have expected. If this was what one stone could do to one man, imagine what more could do. The thought crossed his mind of an enemy force having a battalion of Crestless martyrs, and he wondered how he could counter that, War Ghouls crossing his mind briefly.

The shadows started to take shape as they finished swelling, huge black scales reflecting the rainy moonlight darkly, glowing red eyes peering down at them as the beast began to roar, saliva flying about through jagged, distended teeth. Spikes went all along the beast's tail and back, and it's form was lizardine, almost draconic minus the wings. It's head was enormous, and it sported horns and a huge jaw matched by a thick, powerful neck.

The beast was at least fifteen feet tall, and it seemed to have no sentience in the same sense that it's host would. Sylvain was quivering in shock and horror at the sight, the beast growling and salivating as it looked to them.

"Retreat."

The word barely left Cetanu's lips before the beast surged forth, the demon removing the dagger that anchored his inhuman instincts and tossing it to Yuri, the Artist surprised. He stopped to admire the beautiful weapon, Ashe gritting his teeth at how airheaded the other demon could be.

"You heard the Professor. Let us retreat." Gilbert said, his position at the rear of the group allowing him to have secured the exit in a worst case scenario, which he considered this to be. He watched Cetanu stop the beast, gripping it by two of it's hideous, monstrous teeth and pushing forward, his fangs heavy and lips open in a snarling smile.

The group started to file out, Felix and Annette assisting Sylvain as they retreated, the beast whirling it's head and slamming Cetanu into a wall, his grip not shifting as Gilbert once again took up the rear of the group, ensuring their safety.

Cetanu panted, blood covering his body as he looked to the beast, his right hand tingling as he reached for the Sword of the Creator. He barely drew the blade when the beast attacked, clawing up the stone of the floor and sending it at him like cannon fire, boulders slamming into his shoulders and knees and shattering his bones, which he was able to repair with his Fleshcrafting. He grit his teeth at the pain, and swung the blade with an angered vigor.

The blade detached, coming apart into rib like pieces as it extended like a whip, the tip piercing the hide of the beast. Cetanu growled, retracting the weapon as he ran forward, his form far more animalistic, his head down, arms spread, hands open. He caught the beast as it rebounded, gripping it's horn as he used his Fleshcrafting to vastly increase the size of the muscles and tendons in his shoulder and biceps, reinforcing the bones and adding a second joint in his tricep.

He roared, twisting his body and flipping the beast overhead, driving it to the ground, the floor caving beneath the mammoth body of the Black Beast. Cetanu snarled, shaking his head and growling as he leapt after the beast, Sword in hand as it crashed through floor after floor.

In midair, with his body still being pelted by debris and suspended blood from the falling beast, Cetanu slammed the Sword of the Creator into the beast's throat, twisting and pulling as he agitated, tore and butchered the wound, the beast striking the final floor as the Fiend pulled his blade free.

Cetanu panted, flicking the blood from his sword as he stared at the beast, whose form was starting to dissipate as it gave way for Miklan's lifeless body, the lance dull and lifeless next to his corpse. Cetanu growled, grabbing the Lance and looking at it. He spun it in his grip, pointing the blade to the sky as he knelt before Miklan's corpse, closing his eyes in a show of respect to the fallen warrior.

The ride back to the Monastery was very tense, Sylvain thrown off by the whole thing and Cetanu clearly focused on something else.

"Does something ail you, Professor?" Cetanu heard, snapping from his trance like thoughts to see Dedue of all people riding next to him. It wasn't often the Duscur native spoke to him, specifically without Dimitri present.

"That beast. If the same thing can happen to people who have no Crest and even a fragment of a Crest Stone, or a Hero's Relic is passed around between power hungry Crestless folk, there could be an entire army of these beasts at anyone's disposal." he said, and Dedue stared ahead, silently.

"Does this bring you a sense of fear?" he asked, and Cetanu glanced to him, absentmindedly reaching for the dagger on his waist to make sure he had it.

"It does. I would need to dedicate a great amount of time and resources into trying to counter them, or trying to teach people how to fight them. The amount of people lost in that time is unacceptable. I have to think of some better, efficient way to counter these monsters." he mused, and Dedue hummed.

"Would more Blood Demons be of use?" he asked, and Cetanu looked to him.

He wasn't the most scholarly person in the world, but he wasn't an idiot. He could see what Dedue was trying to say, and he didn't like it at all. It even brought a frown to his face, something that he noticed was becoming more common.

"I will not Embrace anyone else unless they are on Death's Door. We will adapt and overcome, Dedue. I will not let a few giant monsters cost my students their humanity. I would sooner turn myself into a draconic beast and fight every one of these beasts to the death for eternity."

Dedue didn't say anything in turn, and his pace slowed a little bit as he started to slow, returning to Dimitri's side. However, the demon swore he could see the slightest smile on Dedue's face, something that he wasn't honestly expecting.

He looked to the setting sun, realizing that he planned on riding into the night to make it to the Monastery as early as possible. He needed to think, and he needed to train to fight more of these monsters should they appear, teach his students how to adapt and overcome much like he was saying. But most importantly, with all of the energy he exerted fighting the beast and healing his many, many injuries, he needed to eat. His jaw rolled when he remembered that he hadn't fed from someone with the Crest of Cethleann yet.