The Bloodcross Key
by Lady Tempest

Part 9:

... Thump-thump.

Shit! He dodged to his right. Another fist narrowly missed him. Squall gasped, the dust-laden air and rotted-stench of the beast nearly choking him. The beast was very large, very strong, but very slow. Not that he was complaining. Not at all. But it wasn't enough. Four slow massive arms trying to pummel him into the ground were still four arms trying to pummel him into the ground.

Thump-thump.

He dodged, ducked, weaved, scrambling, searching for a weakness, a soft spot in the creature's armor-skin. A blur of leathery red breezed past his face as he leapt backwards in reflex, and none too soon.

Thump-thump.

Panting, chest tight and eyes stinging with sweat, he held his gunblade poised ready to strike; He may not be able to critically damage the beast, but something was better than nothing. The creature lumbered towards him, shaking the walls as it moved.

Thump-thump.

It passed Seifer, it's gnarled feet shambling furrows in the carpet. But something about the blond, huddled tightly in his own arms, attracted the beast's attention. For the barest of breaths it paused, staring at Seifer who visibly shuddered, even enveloped under the gray of his trenchcoat.

Thump-thump.

Seifer feared nothing. Yet he feared that beast. Was terrified of it. And the filthy thing seemed drawn to Seifer's fear. Fed on it.

No! "No!" Squall growled.

The creature snorted, an ominous and wet sound, and tilted its head in Squall's direction. Its large dark eyes, bloodshot and glazed with filth, lazily fell upon him.

Not wasting a moment of the beast's distraction, Squall immersed himself in the intense energy and heat of Firaga, orange and molten, prickling his veins and flushing hot-cold under his skin. The creature slowly lumbered towards him.

Thump-thump.

Shivering with the power building within himself, Squall took careful backward steps. His breath was short and quick, gusting over his lips. Sweat tickled down the side of his face.

Thump-thump.

A deep, rumbling sneer whispered in the back of his mind. 'Ah, but we can do better than this! Release me. I will destroy! All!'

The 'all' was what he feared. But in its time, he would revel in it. He risked a darted glance to Seifer. Through the gap in the beast's arms, and a good distance behind, he barely caught a flash of gold and pale gray.

Thump-thump.

Squall's foot slid forward. Boot scuffed against the carpet. Gunblade flashing silver in the swaying overhead light, his glove tightened its grip. He thrust his other hand outward. Red-orange light swirled and shot forth. Streaking. A sizzling hiss. A booming flash. Red. Yellow. Flames. Black smoke.

Squall squinted his eyes against the sudden glare and wash of heat. The thermal gust brushed his skin to a flush and ruffled his hair. As he blinked away reflexive tears, he gazed through the wavering haze, intense as the flame engulfing the hulk before him. Searching.

Thump-thump.

He knew the blast would unlikely be enough to kill the creature, but maybe it could reveal a weakness. Or create one. Or at the very least, be that much closer to bringing its end.

The beast was stunned, roaring in pain. And for Squall, that was enough. He leapt forward, knees bent to an almost crouch. Rising up, his gunblade rising with him, he attacked. Silver reflected the red-orange licks of flame as it arched through the sphere of fire toward the beast.

Thump-thump.

The blade struck the creature's blackened belly with suddenness which jarred through Squall's arms and to his bones. He gasped, but his own fire of adrenaline running in his blood held him and Lionheart as it sliced along the creature's charred red skin with a strength he didn't know he possessed.

Thump-thump.

A bellow echoed through the temple, muffled to Squall's ears like he was underwater. All that he saw, heard, smelled, breathed was his own consuming rage and battle-lust, and the tugs at the tip of his blade where skin and bone resisted its sharp edge.

Thump-thump.

Something red, wet, and foul sprayed into his face, battering like rain. He didn't care. All the mattered was defeating the beast, protecting Seifer. Simple. And strangely easy.

Thump-thump.

His muscles twitched with strain as he brought Lionheart down in a return strike. Again, and again, and again. Until he barely felt his arms, a numbness seeping through him.

Thump-thump.

Then, suddenly a sparkle of dark lights and the red-black bulk was gone. Vanished. Only blood soaking the red velvet carpet to black, in a splatter along the walls, and himself, as well as several chunks and lumps of flesh and gore, were evidence that the beast had even existed.

Thump-thump.

Squall blinked, like coming out of a daze. His blade dropped to the ground with a muted clang as pierced to the stone underneath the carpet at his feet. Arms tingling with weariness, breath short, panting, he blinked again, lids sticky with blood.

Across the hallway, the palace's owner stood about as dazed as Squall had been. Squall strode forward, dragging Lionheart beside him, a soft, ripping-scraping sound trailing behind it. Gore and blood squished under his boots.

Thump. Thump.

His shoulders rose and fell heavily. The power and battle-lust drained from him, but the rage simmered. Staring at the full, pinched face of the bastard who caused all of Seifer's pain made maintaining any anger more than effortless.

...(Tbc)