Chapter Nine
Nova Babylon, Lucifaad Territory
"INCOMING!"
Arkias and his Legionnaires narrowly avoided a series of demonic nova bombs that detonated along their route towards Viktor Nebiros's GHQ. Centurion Zorizar managed to drag his Primus into cover before becoming the IED's only victim.
"Contact right! Contact right!" Zorizar alerted his Centuria towards an incoming wave of Loyalist Insurgents pouring onto the avenue from the adjacent buildings. His directives would have perplexed the uninitiated and put them in a state of disarray.
When Lord Cyrus repurposed their martial curriculum with simplistic language that was rudimentary in substance, his Cohort were...novices at best.
Their 'Squad tactics,' as Lord Cyrus dubbed them, centered upon communication and flow of movement through small 'fire teams' of no more than twelve Legionnaires. Adaptability and ingenuity were the trademark skills each Squad Leader needed to meet their Lord's criteria.
It was difficult for Arkias's Legionnaires to match Cyrus's expectations at first.
His strategies completely contrasted standard Legion doctrine that relied on a cohesive fighting force bound in a phalanx that, while protective, negated the maneuverability and adaptability their Lord was looking for.
As Arkias would learn, there was more to warfare than standing across an open field hacking at one another or exchanging demonic bolts from their lances.
Their style of 'warfare' was archaic and useless in Cyrus's own words.
And for not the first time in months, Zorizar was thankful for their Lord's teachings.
The 1st Centuria attempted to navigate an exposed junction when the Nova Bombs were activated. Their previous doctrines would have sent the whole Centuria storming blindly into the Loyalist kill zone, with Arkias leading the retaliatory strike as the vanguard.
The insurrectionists planned for this reckless charge, but the 10th Cohort wasn't your typical Demonic Legion. It was also partly due to the inexperience of Militant bombardiers that allowed the Guardsmen to walk away from the initial ambush unscathed. Turning a trap into a pitched skirmish, the Loyalists had little to no hope of winning.
Demonic bolts from Legionnaire lances crashed into the adjacent structures, smashing into concrete and burning through insurrectionist flesh.
The Centurion carved a fist-sized hole through a Loyalist insurgent's abdomen with his war lance, allowing his intestines to pour onto the ground. Zorizar had to give these fanatics credit. Few would willingly throw themselves into Legionnaire steel with the barest of armor and weaponry at their disposal.
But fanatical loyalty was a lethal double-edged sword. It left its constituents with no rational thought or combat awareness, leaving them susceptible to their own emotions.
As Zorizar slaughtered his third militant in as many seconds, it dawned on him that his Centuria was on the verge of being overrun by the Loyalist's sheer numbers.
He refused to lose his men to these zealots because of his pride.
During their trials in the Blighted Marshlands, Lord Cyrus made a point of destroying his Cohorts' pride, and if Zorizar returned to his Liege with half a Centuria, the crucible would be the least of his troubles.
"Fall back to the south!" Zorizar's order echoed across the Centuria's formation. "1st Squad, cover the retreat!"
Principales Tharnon, a native son of the Shadowlands, perked at his Centurion's command. He knew Nova Babylon better than most members of the 10th Cohort. His family visited the commercial city almost weekly to trade their wares and bump shoulders with business moguls from the main houses.
In his youth, Tharnon ventured into the slums to sate the adventurous bone in his body, and the district's stench was still as nauseous even decades later. This knowledge was put to the test when Zorizar placed his Squad at the forefront of their push into the district.
Principales Tharnon and his Legionnaires spread out into a delta formation, allowing the rest of their Centuria to retreat to cover in the structures just south of the claustrophobic junction.
"How many are there?!" Munifex Dolrann Azgath leaned his lance on his war shield's lip, bracing himself against a stray demonic bolt while also providing cover for the rest of his Centuria.
"Doesn't matter, keep firing!" Tharnon commanded, gunning down a pair of Militants clutching primed Nova Bombs in each hand. The suicide bombers fell face-first into the dirt, and his Legionnaires had mere seconds to brace their war shields and feet before a resounding blast echoed across the junction.
*BOOM!*
The concussion blast and flying shrapnel stopped short of reaching his Squad's position, and Tharnon shook off the specks of blood and dirt clouding his vision just in time to hear Zorizars commanding voice.
"Tharnon! Get your ass back here now!" Azgath and a pair of Munifex Legionnaires were the first to break formation. Dodging retaliatory bolts from insurrectionist lances as Tharnon pulled the rest of his Squad alongside him.
As Azgath vaulted over a shanty wall, a Munifex from 3rd Squad took a demonic bolt to his Griycium helmet. A medicae rushed to his side, removing the helm before it could melt into the Legionnaires skin.
Azgath's attention was drawn away from the grisly sight when another Principales, Galmod, slid up next to him.
"Rough night, kid?!" Even in the midst of combat, Azgath could always count on Galmod's wisecracks. He had a distinct repertoire as one of the few commanders in the 1st Centuria with a laid-back disposition.
"Better than the Marshlands!" Azgath quipped back. "We lose anyone?!"
He breathed out a sigh of relief when Galmod shook his head. "Arkias is drumming up a plan to get us moving towards the GHQ. Zorizar wants us to flood the side streets and alleyways, but Arkias isn't willing to risk another ambush."
"So, what are we doing?!" Tharnon appeared out of the corner of Azgath's vision, firing off a burst of demonic bolts that joined an orchestra of red beams going back and forth. Galmod added his war lance to the fire, providing the necessary cover to allow Tharnon to dive into their shared shelter.
"Nice of you to join us, Tharnon!" Galmod greeted his fellow Squad leader with an easy grin. "What's our orders?!"
"We're on suppression duty!" The Principales replied, wiping the mud from his eyes. "Lord Cyrus is taking a strike team behind their lines now!"
"So what?! We're staying here to get shot at?!" Azgath roared over the cracks of lancer fire and riveting blasts of nova bombs.
"Basically!" Tharnon replied. "We need to spread out amongst these structures on our flanks. We're digging in here and grinding these insurrectionists into dust!"
"Works for me!" Azgath tapped at the trio of Munifex's to his left. "You three stay on my ass! We're finding a better vantage point to kill us some Loyalists!"
Tharnon watched half of his Squad peel off from the makeshift barricades to a rundown structure that seemed to be barely holding together. This wasn't the first time the Centuria was knee-deep in shit, and it wouldn't be the last.
There was ever rarely a dull moment in the 10th Cohort.
Cyrus could feel the…benevolence scraping against his mind with each instance he utilized Caiseag Sgàil. It was the only technique in his family's arsenal that brought his psyche within the confines of the incomprehensible plane of darkness called the Shadow Realm.
Cedric warned him to keep his guard up while navigating through this treacherous dimension, for the members of House Kimaris are merely visitors treading upon lands that they no dominion over.
When Cyrus first accessed this otherworldly dimension, he was immediately beset upon by a voice that whispered a pair of words into his ears.
Embrace us.
These encounters were common, according to his family. Ghislaine and Jade were the main perpetrators to utilize these methods since their positions as commanders of the 2nd Cohort validated the use of this near forbidden technique.
These temptations went ignored like all things that toiled in that darkness, but no matter his indifference, Cyrus felt a shadowy hand grazing against his shoulders. Then during a routine training exercise with Ghislaine, it spoke into his ear with words that froze him solid.
You belong in the darkness, Spartan.
Cyrus could not escape the shiver of dread that ran along his spine weeks after the benevolence delivered those haunting words. He expressed his concerns to Ghislaine, but she did not grasp what he described.
Experiences differed based on their user.
For Ghislaine, she was beset on all sides by honeyed words from her long-deceased mother. Jade was besieged by the voice of their Father and the suffocating responsibilities of being the House's future Matriarch.
His experience was jarring, but there was little Ghislaine could do to temper his worries. Cedric was the only one with a deep understanding of what toiled in the darkness, and he was leagues away fighting a pitched war with the Loyalists at the walls of Lucifaad.
Cyrus welcomed the familiar sounds of warfare as he staggered behind his Night Wardens. As the shadows consumed every ounce of vitality from his limbs, his pace faltered. Ghislaine slung an arm across his shoulder, permitting him to restore his balance.
"Cyrus." She whispered, eyes filled with a sisterly concern that was foreign to Cyrus not decades earlier. "It happened again, didn't it?"
His silent and exhausted nod had every maternal bone in Ghislaine's body on high alert. She desperately wanted to take him back to the Cohorts barracks, but Cyrus's cutting glance stamped out that notion.
Ghislaine reluctantly linked their arcana, allowing the Nekoshu to flood his reserves with her potent and brimming life force. Cyrus would be back on his feet in mere moments, but until then, the Night Wardens were forced to maintain silent vigil over their charges.
And there Fallen guest.
Penemune stood by with a dimly lit heavenly spear in hand, noting with an amused expression that the Night Wardens shied away from her weapon whenever she adjusted her grip.
"Crow." Cyrus bit out, drawing Penemune's attention away from the slightly distressed bodyguards. Put the spear down. "You're causing my Night Wardens to contemplate killing you already."
"They are more than welcome to try, little Devil…." The Night Wardens brimmed at the Fallen's dismissive tone. Penemunue considered the majority of devils to be entertaining little creatures that she deigned to grace her presence.
Still, it would be remiss of Penemune to allow her hosts to feel less than comfortable in her presence.
"…But I shall acquiesce to your demand." The Fallen dissolved her light spear, keeping a watchful eye on Cyrus's ailing body as it regained vigor.
"Come along now." Penemune strode up to his side, a sarcastic smile tempered by a cautious glance, and playfully nudged Ghislaine out of the way. "We wouldn't want all of this animosity to be for nothing now, would we?"
Cyrus cautiously eyed the Cadre as she smoothed out the kinks in his battle-worn armor. Her efforts were meant to placate his companion's distress, but all it did was stoke their distrust of their Fallen guest.
Karal and Sarkoth had to fight the urge to bury their lances into the small of her back on instinct, and only after she turned away from Cyrus with a pleasing smile did they breathe a growl of frustration.
Ghislaine was no better; when Penemune hip-checked her out of the way, she hissed with blatant scorn. A pair of black tendrils extended from the Nekoshus upper back, ready to pierce the Fallens spine but a cursory glance from Cyrus tempered her mood.
For now.
Penemune guided the Devils deep into the Militant Stronghold, slaughtering several patrols seeking to reinforce the battle line with Zorizar's 1st Centuria. Ghislaine was particularly brutal, ripping the arms clean off an insurgent while maintaining eye contact with the amused Cadre.
As each strove to outdo the other, a competition of sheer wanton savagery ensued between the Devil and the Fallen, leaving an untold number of butchered militants painting the streets with their traitorous blood.
Cyrus was content to let the Nekoshu run wild if only to give her a proper outlet for her temper. Ghislaine's Night Warden was less than pleased with her recklessness but maintained her solemn duty of protecting her charge's exposed flanks when she became lost in her rampage.
It didn't take long for their party to reach the impregnable fortress that was Viktor Nebiros's GHQ. The ornate structure stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the slum's decaying landscape.
Penemune immediately set upon the few militant guards protecting the main entryway. Her brilliant violet irises swelled with a poisonous degree of angelic arcana, and she unleashed a beam of tainted light that vaporized ten insurgents with a single flick of her arm.
The only trace of their existence was the waist-deep smoking crater and the destroyed remains of their former post. Insurgents poured out from buildings in search of retaliation, but they were soon met with Griycium steel.
Ghislaine was the first to charge into the fray, her crimson eyes wild with blood lust as she tore into the insurgent ranks. Cyrus was not far behind her, stabbing an insurgent grunt in the heart with his lance and kicking his decomposing corpse off the tip of his spear.
Karal and Sarkoth paired up into a beautiful symphony of violence, butchering whole teams of insurgents as they sought to overwhelm the interlopers with overwhelming numbers.
Penemune proved to be a trump card in her own right, blasting apart clustered groups of militants from above while simultaneously dominating the skies. Her motions had a grandeur to them that underscored Heaven's warfare doctrine throughout the Great War.
It was as majestic as it was brutal, and Cyrus paid close attention to her fighting techniques as he slew a trio of Militants who attempted to separate him further from his crew.
A demonic claw brimming with infernal energy crossed Cyrus's vision at the last possible moment, and he narrowly avoided a lethal strike to the abdomen by morphing into the shadows.
His presumed killer's bestial hair and snarling teeth were a dead giveaway to who or, more specifically, what they were. Few creatures in the underworld could match the ferocity of a Nerbiros Skinwalker, and much like the Navajo legends, their base form resembled a vicious animal native to the Underworld's environment.
"Skinwalker," Cyrus snarled under his breath, and the seven-foot-tall lupine beast grinned back with a ferocious curl.
"Come, Kimaris." The Skinwalker beckoned him forward, its voice deep and unsettling. "It is time to meet your ancestors."
Cyrus offered no retort, and the lupine creature stalked forward. There was to be no backup for either of them, Ghislaine was facing down her own Skinwalker, and his Night Wardens paired up with Penemune to keep a large group of Loyalists from overrunning their position.
This would be a test of skill, strength, and endurance between Skinwalker and Spartan.
Just the way Cyrus liked it.
The Skinwalker roared a throaty growl as it charged forward, red eyes glinting with a bloodthirsty grin. Its fury was unmatched, bestial in nature, and few could ever stand firm against its tremendous roar.
It sought to use its superior speed to undercut his defensive guard, swiping down on him with poisonous energy licking from its claws. Cyrus fell onto his back while manifesting his Dubrha Sleagh in his right hand. The Spartan thrust the Dark Javelin forward, penetrating the creature's left sternum and hurling him ten meters back, giving Cyrus crucial breathing room to maneuver.
"RARRRGHHH!" A scream of anguish rumbled through the Skinwalkers vocal cords as he slammed his hands into the ground splitting the Earth in a fury.
Cyrus shot forward, arcana coursing through his legs to give him a much-needed boost. He carefully blocked a hefty swing from the Skinwalker's left claw, momentarily leaving him exposed to the creatures salivating jaw.
Cyrus pulsed a concentrated burst of demonic energy that blasted the Skinwalker's head backward, preventing him from sinking his teeth directly into his neck. Infernal energy pierced the lupine creature's right eye, sending him stumbling back and exposed to another stab from Cyrus's Javelin.
The spear cut through thick fur and bone, eliciting another howl of anguish that drove the Skinwalker to his knees. Cyrus used this opportunity to directly manifest a Caiseag Sgàil portal behind the creature.
Cyrus removed his Javelin with a great heave and lashed out a jolting kick that pushed the Skinwalker towards the portal. The creature's upper frame went sailing into the darkness, but Cyrus had another trick of his sleeve.
The Spartan deactivated his Caiseag Sgàil once the Skinwalker was halfway in, cutting him in two and sending his upper half sailing through the darkness. The rest of the lupine creature spasmed and died like a snake with its head cut off.
Cedric would have been proud of such ingenuity, but he was not here to revel in his only son's skill.
With the Skinwalker dead, Cyrus was free to assist his allies, but they had already mopped up what little resistance remained. Ghislaine turned her Skinwalker into an ornament, using multiple Dark Javelins to pin him against a two-story building content to leave him as a gruesome reminder of what House Kimaris was capable of.
Penemune and the Night Wardens had slaughtered well over a hundred Militants, some of whom were piled on top of one another in a gruesome display of violence. The GHW building came into sight moments after the group continued on, but Ghislaine made a point of announcing their presence with authority.
His sister manifested a ball of potent Infernal energy within her palms and aimed at the Militant Guards protecting its twelve-foot high walls. The fools had only accomplished dying tired as the black sphere shot through the air and slammed against the GHQ's fortifications.
*BOOM!*
The sentries were vaporized into naught, but ash and a massive crater were all that remained of the GHQ's western fortifications. The path towards Viktor Nebiros was beginning to open, but he wasn't their only objective inside the Militant Stronghold.
Cyrus needed to ensure that Hadriel was retrieved without too many prying eyes asking questions. He may have trusted some of his Legionnaires to keep their mouths shut, but soldiers tended to spill secrets at inopportune times.
Operational security was partially the reason why Cyrus didn't take Zorizar's 1st Centuria along with him, but now only one question remained. Viktor Nebiros was making final preparations to escape the Stronghold, and Hadriel was being held in a separate location.
They needed to split up, but Cyrus intended to kill Viktor himself, and there was no way in hell that he would send Penemune along with Ghislaine.
That was just asking for a headache and a city-sized crater.
"Ghislaine," The Nekoshu's was admiring her beautiful handy work with a content smile when Cyrus called after her. "Take Sarkoth and Karal to secure Hadriel. Penemune and l will handle Viktor."
Ghislaine's smile fell in an instant.
"What!"
"My lord, I must protest this decision."
The usual suspects erupted in outrage at his instruction, but Cyrus had no patience to deal with either of Ghislaine's and Karal's discord. Time was of the essence, and if they were to secure both primary objectives before they could slip the net, all routes needed to be covered.
That and well, Cyrus didn't quite trust that Penemune and his sister wouldn't kill one another while he was away.
"Are you fucking insane?" Ghislaine hissed. "Cyrus, I am not leaving you with this fallen whore! She's going to stab you in the back! I'm staying!"
Cyrus had grown tired of this deliberation and constant arguments revolving around his judgments. Ghislaine's constant need to second guess his decisions slowly grated on his nerves.
"You will do as I have commanded!" Ghislaine flinched at his harsh tone but maintained her composure. "If you an issue with the way I run this Cohort, that you can go home."
The Nekoshu bristled with fury, and she was mere seconds away from escalating the conflict when their Night Wardens stepped in their line of sight. Penemune stepped off to the side, content to watch the fireworks with an amused grin playing on her lips.
"My lady," Sarkoth intervened just as Ghislaine was ready to blow another gasket. "It would be best if we had this conversation in a more…private setting."
The Night Warden shot a suspicious look towards Penemune, but the Fallen raised her hands in faux surrender. None of them were fooled by her attempt at appeasement; her Cheshire grin gave far too much away.
Ghislaine bared her fangs at the Cadre before returning her attention towards Cyrus.
"This is far from over." The Night Wardens were next to receive her venomous gaze. "Come along, you two, I need to work out my anger before I stab a bitch."
Penemune mockingly waved goodbye to Ghislaine as she stalked off in the opposite direction. Thankfully, his sister kept her focus fixed upon the task presented to her, but Cyrus suspected that the Cadre's antics did not go unnoticed.
"Focus crow." The Spartan scolded the Cadre. "We have a job to do."
"Well, by all means, little Devil." Penemune beckoned him along, ignoring his narrowed eyes at the long overused nickname. "Follow me into the GHQ. You may learn something about Fallen combat doctrine that makes it superior to your kinds way of warfare."
Cyrus was beginning to regret ever coming to the god-forsaken city.
….Ow.
Viktor was waiting for them alongside several elite Guards that Cyrus recognized as House Nebiros Immortals. These Devil's were veterans of the Great War and were the personal bodyguard for the main branch of House Nebiros.
Their skills rivaled his family's Night Wardens, but Cyrus had made a point of sparring with Karal outside his sister's influence. He was confident that these Immortals couldn't match what Karal and Sarkoth put him through on a nightly basis.
Cyrus was more than willing to test that theory.
The Nebiros heir brazenly made the courtyard to his GHQ the setting to his final stand, and Cyrus wasn't sure if it was pride or madness that led Viktor to believe a clustered battleground would be to his favor.
It may have been due to misinformation on his opponents. As far as Cyrus was aware, Viktor and his Immortals considered Peneune a six-winged Fallen. They failed to realize that she could wipe the floor with the whole damn city, and no one would be able to stop her.
In short, the Nebiros brought a stick to a gunfight.
"I've been watching you, Lord Cyrus." Viktor began with a small smile. "I'm a big fan of your work. No one in the Renegade Legions has been able to give me a challenge for well over a year, but in a few months, you've graced me with difficulties I had not foreseen."
Cyrus stared back with even eyes that didn't betray his feelings. Whether or not Viktor realized that he only considered him as little more than another name on his list didn't seem to resonate with the pompous Devil.
No matter how much Cyrus found Viktor's tactics…admirable.
The Spartan was enjoying the sense of nostalgia of facing down a foe that used the other half of his brain more than once. Viktor's tactics seemed to have taken a page out of the insurrectionist playbook, with the constant need for brutalizing ambushes that killed civilians and Legionnaires alike.
Penemune went ignored by Viktor while he rambled on about honor and a slew of other useless traits that Cyrus found incredibly hypocritical considering his style of warfare.
In the midst of his rambling, the Spartan managed to catch a glimpse of an…exotic figure standing in Viktor's shadow.
It was a Nekoshu, draped in House Nebiros colors, with nine thick silver tails immaculately flowing in the bated wind that drew Cyrus's scrutinizing gaze. Her outfit consisted of a stunning dark purple winter coat that flowed smoothly into her tails, leaving an effect on most Devils that would have made them weak at the knees.
By his estimation, the Nekoshu had to be around Ghislaine's age, though it was more similar to his sister's appearance and not her actual age. Cyrus was still adjusting to the concept that Devils stopped physically aging after their thirtieth year. After that, it was merely a question of how many millennia they would see before death came calling.
He would have pegged the Nekoshu as one of Viktor's attendants if it wasn't for the pools of raw arcana that easily matched if no surpassed the Immortals.
Her exotic features were complemented by her fair complexion and a thick black mane, but it was her brilliantly defined piercing amber orbs that stole the spotlight.
A distinct and exotic color that was actively staring into Cyrus's crimson eyes. He belatedly realized that he had earned her full attention almost as soon as he entered the courtyard.
What is this woman?
"The Nekoshu is a Vastaya." Penemune answered his silent inquiry. "Their kind were bred in the sanctuaries of Halahbran before your people burned it to the ground. House Nebiros took her in to be Viktor's bodyguard since he can't fight worth shit."
Cyrus was unsurprised by the Cadre's rebuttal to Viktor's combat aptitude. His skills and effectiveness stemmed from his mind rather than his arm, and he saw no reason to put himself through the meat grinder when he could easily send others in his place.
The Vastaya were an ancient order of war maidens bred in the sanctuaries of Halahbran to serve Yasaka and the Youkai Assembly. Each of the Vastaya was adept in the ways of senjutsu and ki, allowing them near limitless potential in combat that was only restricted by who they were. They sold their services to the highest bidder to all three factions during the Great War, but this mercenary-like approach became their undoing.
One of their retainers killed one of Samael's favored sons while serving a Cadre and the Vastaya became the sole object of his wrath. He sent House Nebiros to wipe the ancient order off the face of the Earth.
Yasaka and her Youkai could only watch in horror as Halahbran and its ancient holdings were burned to the ground. It was the price for her people breaching the neutrality pack signed by the Youkai and the Devil's.
House Nebiros was lauded for their actions by Samael, but they also felt it necessary to keep at least one Vastaya alive for their own interests.
"Is she loyal to him?"
"Only by circumstance," Penemune supplied with a shrug. "The Vastya are known to form an unbreakable bond with the first person they see after birth. The bond effectively turns the Vastaya into a loyal bodyguard, and they are compelled to follow their Master's directive. I'll give you two guesses as to what bastard she ended up bonding with."
Cyrus didn't need to play the guessing game to figure that out.
"You seem to know a lot about her." He commented.
"I've had a…conversation or two with her in private." He pointedly ignored the salacious smile adorning her exotic features. "The girl has a good head on her shoulders. She just needs a wake-up call…."
"…And someone to cut the leash from her neck." Penemune grinned at his remarks, but Cyrus wasn't here to make friends or start pulling his punches for the sake of some woman who had been dealt a poor hand.
He wasn't known for being a gentle soul, and if this Ahri stood in his way, he'd give her more than a wake-up call.
"HEY!" They had evidently offended Viktor by disregarding his monologue. "DO YOU MIND I AM TRYING TO SPEAK HERE!"
Cyrus answered Viktor's demand in the only way he knew how.
By trying to kill him in a single stroke.
The Spartan lifted his right arm and unleashed a powerful beam of infernal energy that roared directly towards Viktor's forehead.
"Argh!" The Nebiros heir lost his balance in a vain attempt to avoid his coming demise. It would have taken a miracle for Viktor to prevent a quick and anti-climatic death at Cyrus's hands.
Ahri ended up being that miracle.
Waves of azure aura sprinkled across her lithe arms before launching bolts of arcana that carved into his infernal beam. Cyrus watched his demonic assault wither and dissipated until every trace of its existence was atomized.
A mischievous grin played upon Ahri's supple lips earning a narrowed gaze from the Spartan.
Nothing was ever easy.
"KILL THEM!" Viktor's composure shattered at the blatant assassination attempt. "KILL THEM ALL!"
The Immortals drew their spears and charged down the regal steps with a purpose. They would fulfill their Lord's command without question or hesitation, and Cyrus would have found such loyalty admirable if his gaze was stolen by the Cadre taking a step forward.
As wisps of corrupted divine energy clung to Penemune's fingertips, her eyes grew cold. She had been waiting for this precise moment of retribution for the past few hours, and Cyrus would be damned if he took it away from her.
"The Immortals are mine. You play with the Nerkoshi see if you can convince her to play ball with us." Cyrus did not feel inclined to disagree with Penemune's words, and she didn't wait long enough to hear them anyway.
The Cadre's midnight wings extended from her back, and within a blink, she'd torpedoed herself into the lead Immortals chest with her fists digging into his sternum.
Penemune wasn't holding back anymore.
"After her, you fools!" Viktor commanded. To the Immortals credit, they didn't hesitate to give chase after the Cadre as she smashed their companion through several buildings.
Leaving Cyrus to contend with the Nebiros and his bodyguard.
Ahri wasted no time in pressing her counterattack as waves of arcana covered her entire body, and she charged directly for Cyrus. He narrowly parried a burst of energy bolts with his Javelin before reversing his grip and turning the spear into an infernal missile.
The Nekoshu slipped underneath the Javelin, allowing her Master to tank the concussive blast as it slammed into the wall behind him. Cyrus cocked his arm back, aiming to smash Ahri's collarbone into paste if it weren't for the Nekoshu's lithe nature, allowing her to dodge his devastating blow by a hair's breadth.
*CRACK!*
With the force of a thousand men, Cyrus's punch fractured the ground below, causing webs of concrete to jut out across the courtyard. His narrowed gaze momentarily caught Ahri's smug grin even as the concussive blast sent her sailing through the air.
The Nekoshu twisted her body at an angle that permitted her to touch down on her feet. A moment of silence befell the courtyard as both combatants eyed each other with contrasting expressions.
Cyrus glanced over her lithe form with reservation; he'd never faced a foe that exhumed elegance like her. Jade was a close second, but there was a grace to Ahri's movements that left him at a loss for words.
She was a beautiful creature, one that he should more than be willing to….
Wait….
Cyrus pulsed his arcana, dissipating the Nekoshu's fragrance that had seeped into his skin during the brief moments of proximity. A flash of pink crossed her amber orbs, and he snarled in annoyance at the blatant attempt at manipulation.
"Hmmm." Ahri's voice was a sensuous melody, and not the first time did Cyrus begin to worry that this Vixen was toying with him. "I was hoping that would work on you."
"Hope is the first step on the road to disappointment." The Nekoshu's smile widened considerably.
"Careful now, little devil." He growled in annoyance at the moniker. "Your fatalistic tendencies are showing."
The shadows warped and quivered all around Cyrus as he contemplated a time where his adversaries didn't talk every time a fight broke out. He sorely missed the alien guttural growls of a pissed-off Elite or the short-lived prattling of grunts running for their lives.
A line of potent arcana grazed his cheek.
"It's rude to keep a girl waiting." He did not grace her with a verbal reply; instead, his silhouette sank into the darkness and vanished from view.
Ahri tensed with anticipation, she flashed her ki in an attempt to hone in on Cyrus's aura, but she found nothing but an empty courtyard.
For the barest moment, doubt began to creep into Ahri's mind that the little Devil had retreated before a flash of movement caught her attention. She flicked her arm in that direction, sending a stream of aura bullets that tore through concrete and darkness.
The Nekoshu dashed towards Cyrus's suspected hiding spot with a pair of ki daggers in both hands, but all she found was broken concrete and shattered walls. Frustration leaked into her visage at the diversion, and as she glanced in all directions, her voice made her sentiments known.
"Come out, little Devil!" She bellowed with a slight edge to her tone. "I promise I'll make it quick."
Ahri's eyes widened when several bolts of infernal energy whizzed past her head and impacted the wall behind her, and as she turned to retaliate, a hand reached around her exposed neck.
"ACKK!" Ahri's oxygen supply was cut in half, so she extended her left arm to form a ki dagger and slashed it towards Cyrus.
He loosened his grip and kicked at the small of her back, sending her sprawling to the ground. The Nekoshu collected herself quickly, rolling onto her side and firing off a stream of aura bullets that he parried with a slash of Dark Javelin.
Ahri snarled with contempt when Cyrus chose to go on the offensive, a stream of potent arcana settled into his legs, and his frame short forth at critical speeds. Javelin collided with ki daggers, and a battle of wills broke out between Spartan and Vastaya.
'What's with this kid?" As she narrowly averted a brutalizing thrust to the midsection by erecting a defensive barrier, Ahri's mind was plagued with uncertainty.
The Kimaris heir was proving to be more than she could manage, and even the Immortals would have struggled to cope with his ferocity. This was not the first time Ahri had to deal with an adversary who could match her wits, but it was the first instance she had to deal with a Devil that was so...centered.
Cyrus's eyes never lingered, his movements never faltered, he matched her strikes with a balance of pure aggression or passive retreat. Young Devil's were prone to a wandering gaze when faced with an unattainable beauty, and even in combat, they were subject to their desires.
Ahri's pheromones should have gone unnoticed long enough for her to slip a ki dagger underneath ribs, but alas, her distraction lasted only a few measly seconds.
This little Devil was different, more vigilant, more methodical than his kind had any right to be.
Ahri would have found it intriguing if it wasn't for the fact her object of interest was trying to run a Javelin through her. She slid between his legs and dipped underneath an overhead stroke, slicing the backs of his knees before coming to a complete stop. The biting ki daggers dug into flesh and bone, eliciting a grimace of pain from the Kimaris heir.
A triumphant grin plastered Ahri's face as she lunged at Cyrus with ki daggers primed and ready. Her arcana cast an azure hue throughout her body, accelerating her fast enough to try and bury her blades into his shoulders.
"Got you!" When her prey's entire form evaporated into a black fog, the Nekoshu's victorious expression faded, and her ears perked at the tiniest exhale barely feet behind her. "Shit."
*STAB!*
An ornate javelin pierced through Ahri's ribs, forcing blood to spill from her mouth.
"AAIIEEEE!" Viktor awoke from his unconscious state to a terrible scream from his bodyguard. His blurry eyes widened in terror when Cyrus pulled his spear from the Nekoshu's back, leaving her a bleeding but still conscious mess.
"Immortals!" The Nebiros cried out for his remaining bodyguards as he ran for the sizeable gap in the wall that the Cadre left in her wake. "Immortals I-!"
Viktor smashed headfirst into a clothesline from hell courtesy of Penemune, who stared down at his writhing form with blood caking her entire body.
"My apologies." The Fallen grasped the Devil by his neck. "I didn't see you there."
Penemune pulled her arm back and threw his wounded body into the courtyard's fountain, shattering its ornate foundation and covering him in bloodied water.
"What took you so long?" Cyrus inquired as the pair stalked towards the wounded Nebiros.
"I was playing with my food." Penemune shot him a pleased grin that contrasted her bloodied face. There wasn't a doubt in Cyrus's mind that any of it was hers to begin with.
He hummed in mild amusement before planting his foot onto Viktor's chest and pressing down onto his sternum. The Noble screamed in anguish that was momentarily halted by the Javelin hovering not inches from his left eye.
"Any last words?" Penemune queried in a mocking tone.
"I can-ackk!" Cyrus cared little for decorum, piercing the Devil's retina and pumping infernal energy into his Javelin. Blood penetrated the skin of Viktor's cheeks bubbles of pressure began to form before the Noble's head imploded with a subdued puff.
Penemune shot him a furrowed look laced with some measure of disappointment. "Really? He didn't even get to say anything."
"I never asked him for his final words. You did." Cyrus dismissed his Dubhra Sleagh and strode away from Viktor's rotting corpse.
"It's a common courtesy, little Devil. You could at least…." The Fallen's words trailed off into the void as Cyrus's ear perked at a pattern of shallow breaths, and his gaze turned towards its source.
The Vastaya was still alive, albeit critically injured after having a Javelin run through her back. It certainly didn't help her outlook that Cyrus had laced his weapon with Dubhra Nimh, poisoning her bloodstream with a potent taste of his infernal energy.
Ahri's essence was being eaten away with each breath she took until she was eventually nothing more than a husk of skin and bone.
And yet, the woman persisted.
Even in her unconscious state, Ahri's body continued to fight an unwinnable battle as her aura chipped away at the demonic energy that grew in mass. By his estimation, she had no more than another 30 minutes of life, all of which would be spent bleeding out in some random courtyard with no one to see her off.
Cyrus grimaced as he observed the anguish on her immaculate countenance and made it no more than a step away before his conscious got the better of him.
Something he didn't think was possible.
"What are you doing?" Penemune shot him a curious expression as he carefully grasped the unconscious Ahri by the scruff of her neck and slowly pulled her into a bridal carry.
"Girl needs medical attention," Cyrus replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "She's got a half an hour before she dies of blood loss."
Penemune was momentarily at a loss for words as she stared dumbly at the Kimaris heir.
He ignored the flabbergasted Cadre as his ears picked up on the sounds of combat fading away. Already he could see the banners of the 10th Cohort advancing towards the GHQ, and Penemune was still in sight.
All objectives have been cleared, and now it was time for the Fallen to depart with her wayward kinsman.
"Retrieve Hadriel from my sister..." Penemune caught a glimpse of glowing crimson orbs.
"And go home." A blink later, shadows engulfed the Kimaris boy, leaving the Crow alone in a deserted courtyard.
A Cheshire grin consumed the Fallen's visage as she stared at the vacated spot where Cyrus stood not seconds ago with the Nekoshu in hand.
"You are different, little Devil." She murmured to herself as her midnight wings extended from her back. "And I can't wait to watch you grow."
Penemune shot towards Hadriel's location, intent on verbally sparring with Ghislaine before taking her leave.
All the while, her thoughts were consumed by the most peculiar Devil she had ever met.
The Cadre silently wondered if Azazel needed a permanent liaison in the Devil territories.
She wouldn't mind a dalliance with the House of Kimaris after all.
Ah yes, a beloved League of Legends character with her own little part in this fanfic. She won't be the last to grace this fic so hopefully, some of you actually like her but time will tell.
Believe it or not my one-year anniversary for fanfiction writing in general begins this upcoming Monday so I can't thank any of you enough for your support. It means a lot to me truly it does.
Welp not too much else to say for this fic but it does have a cover song now. It was a tough choice from an old band when I was a child but I think it will fit Cyrus's story as it play's out. I will add it to the first chapter for people to listen too.
Hollywood undead - SCAVA
Reviews:
Slim A Lou Prime: You know there just might be S III's but it will have to fit the story and not be thrown in haphazardly.
human dragon: Close but not quite on the money. The entity actually assisted the flood during the war...I will leave you to figure out who they are...
blackberry1773: Much like Human Dragon, close but not quite there. However the entity did have conversation with him...
edboy4926: No the entity isn't the flood but they were...acquaintances at one point...
UndeadLord22: Good is relative when it come's to this entity.
HaloZealotDemon: No flood, might have them show up might not. Need to figure out a way to make it work.
Next Chapter: December 24th or earlier.
The next chapter is available on my Pa t re on for those who would like to see it. The Link is below.
www .(p)at (r) e o n. co (m) /Cypher1597 (remove the spaces and () to access