Whelp, here you go. here's the next chapter and the first fight scene for Melancholy.
This took quite a while but I had a bit of fun writing the fight scenes.
Thanks to Mortis and Nekonomicon-chan for helping me with this chapter.
Sona
Admittedly, she had never expected this kind of situation to ensue when she snuck out the house when she finished setting up the event. Her latent expectations for tonight were to hang the lights, get the tree, eat, maybe daydream a little and then sleep.
Hunger had coerced her into taking a trip to the Seven-Eleven, hopeful that her venture, now of all times, went unnoticed by Tsubaki. Several coins and wads of cash sounded in the wallet kept inside the pocket of her blue hoodie.
1,780 yen, enough for that one Karrage Box Set she had been eying all week.
If someone told her that she'll be sitting on the bars of a jungle gym on the playground, sharing the much anticipated box set with a stranger she'd met at the cusp of midnight, she would've sported a death stare so severe that even the grim reapers of Hades would've seen flashes of their own demise.
In her defense, she didn't know what was running through her head at that moment. Perhaps because it was Christmas Eve and she was excited for New Years. And maybe it's because of how troubled she felt with the thoughts running around her head, and how the foreigner looked as though he was battling the same demons.
As she looked at him staring into the box set she shrugged. It's not like she had anything else to do tonight.
Nothing good ever comes after two, sure. But she supposed there are worse things that could happen at two-o-clock at night, than spending time in the park's playground, eating Karrage and observing the foreigner she'd met.
Sona first noticed how unnatural he looked. He had white hair that blended with the snow that fell and blue eyes that shined amidst the overcast of the snowfall. It was hard for Sona to tell that he's male, not without shamefully looking down at the bulge in his pants for answers.
She'd never seen a human look like him before. Was he a Yuki-Onna? Sona immediately doubted that notion. He seemed passive, scared even when he talked to the store clerk.
Yuki-Onna tend to be very cold-hearted and were native to Shinto Mythology. Sona could get behind Yuki-Onna governing other countries, but at their core they all should have a native understanding of basic modern or traditional Japanese.
The stranger before her seemed just like the usual tourists that never learned Japanese before coming to Kuoh.
For a while now, they've sat together on the bars of the jungle gym. Taking in the cold, night air and watching the snow fall to the ground and cover it in white.
The awkward silence had stretched out between them for a while now and Sona for one was getting sick of it. It clearly looked like the foreigner was in no mind to initiate an interesting conversation, and to be honest neither was she.
Without knowing each other even in the past five minutes of buying the Box set and travelling here together, she didn't even need to ask to tell he was in just as bad, if not worse, state than her.
"So why is someone like you out here tonight?" Sona opened the conversation.
"…"
He didn't reply, probably because he was too nervous. It was strange. He obviously was a part of the Supernatural, no doubt. But the stranger was too nervous even by supernatural standards, he didn't give any signs that he was hiding something nor signs of recognition.
"…I had a lot of things on my mind. Decided to take a walk outside cause I couldn't sleep." He replied.
Sona opened the box set. "I see. And you thought that was a good idea, even if you didn't know the language?"
He gave a small sad smile. "In hindsight, I really wasn't thinking straight at that moment." Sona could definitely relate to that statement, considering the situation she's put herself in.
"I see." Sona then brandished the chopsticks she took from the store and decided to dig into the box set.
She started with the rice, they were small and bits of them stuck together often, so the first portion of rice she took from the box set was quick to finish.
"What is your name?"
"Abslon Moonshade."
Moonshade? That was a familiar name. Could she assume that the person she was talking to is the son of Tristan Moonshade?
"And yours?" he asked.
"You can just call me Sona."
Regardless of being the son of the well-known billionaire entrepreneur. She had no idea of his intentions, lest he had any at this moment.
Hence, she had opted to keep her surname under wraps for the time being. Until she deduced otherwise as a failsafe in case he posed a threat.
"Ah. Okay then."
Sona dug back into her meal before noticing that Abslon hadn't eaten nor reached for a portion of the meal in quite some time.
"Are you not eating?" Sona asked, she then motioned towards the opened box set. Abslon blinked, taking his own set of chopsticks into his hands and staring at them.
He looked like he was trying to find the correct way to hold the chopsticks, given by how he was twisting, turning and fiddling with them. He gave a narrow stare and what seemed like a small pout after a few minutes of trying and failing at the task.
"You seem to be holding it wrong." She said.
Sona stifled a chuckle. Admittedly, it was entertaining to watch him try. Seeing how much he struggled with something that came as second nature to Sona had lifted up her mood a little.
Abslon looked down on the chopstick, turned it around and held it as though it were a knife, looking to stab at one of the pieces of Karrage inside the box set. The unorthodox way of eating even worked somewhat.
He could only eat the Karrage however, but Sona still counted it as progress.
"You're improving." She jested.
"Very funny." He said.
"You're at least holding it in the correct hand."
"Haven't had much practice as you can see, seems like that's the only thing I can remember from Nonami's lessons." He held the single chopstick in the air, as if to take a better look at it.
Sona chuckled, then she used her chopsticks to pick up some Karrage along with some rice and present it to Abslon, lest he opted to eat with his hands in the next five minutes.
It was the first time that she had ever fed anybody except for Jewels. It didn't seem as pleasant as when she was feeding the lazy cat. The event was missing the soft mewls and purrs, the comfort of her fur and the pleasant weight of Jewels suddenly sitting on her lap.
She smiled anyway. Why?
It certainly wasn't pleasant. In fact, Sona was slightly annoyed that she had to feed this stranger before he ruined their meal by eating with his hands.
Her action was lacking the sincerity she excused when feeding Jewels, lacking the gentleness, the kindness.
She believed that Abslon had noticed it too when he ate the food presented to him. The lack of warmth, sincerity and kindness. Feeding him only because she didn't wish for her meals to get spoiled by his lack of manners.
Yet despite what she thought, she felt her lips curl up into a small smile. She touched her chest. The warm feeling. It was there.
That warm fuzzy feeling.
Was this what those annoying Travelling Christmas Choirs wanted to achieve by singing their Christmas Carols to her and her neighbors?
Huh.
Something cold dropped onto the tip of Sona's nose, she sneezed but bit her tongue to disguise and hide the sound.
She looked up, the wind was starting to pick up again. Making her feel a little bit cold as it blew. The Karrage box set was empty, and all things considered, she found herself enjoying what happened this night very much.
Abslon was an enigma. He represented a significant danger within her territory, and at times, she questioned why she was sitting with him, sharing Karrage when she should be prying him for answers.
She's never this calm when dealing with someone she knows so little of. Perhaps she was put off by how scared he seemed of interacting with and meeting new people that she had discerned him as no threat because Supernatural Entities didn't seem to act like so.
He didn't look like a normal human. That much is assured. She found him hard to discern from a Yuki-Onna until he opened his mouth.
She treated him the same as she had treated most of the people she met in school and out in the city. Indifferent, speaking only when spoken to and leaving no strings attached with her words.
Yet, tonight was the first time that someone felt genuinely grateful to her, even though there were not much opportunities to interact with him and treat him with even a tad less indifference she had to others.
So many things about him didn't make sense and her curiosity got the better of her when she observed him even further, peeking into his soul and searching for any semblance of magic in him.
Abslon was here before her, but he felt like nothing, as though she was gazing at nothing but an empty mirage or better yet, a dark silhouette.
He was there, but it felt as though he wasn't. Like Abslon was never real.
The best she could compare him to, was a living glitch. A distortion.
Interesting.
Abslon Moonshade. From the first time they've met up until now. His weird, looks, behavior and antics had granted him her curiosity.
But now?
Now, he had her attention.
But…it was up to their future meetings to decide whether the attention he had received from her would be a good thing or not.
Kiba
Kiba Yuuto had noticed the sudden abundance of Kuoh night life in the past few days. It mostly consisted of frantic parents and boyfriends raiding the stores, searching for the perfect present for their regarded significant other or children.
If only he weren't in the same predicament, he could laugh at them.
To be fair, he had no girlfriend that he had to raid stores for. Nor did he, thank Satan, have any children that he had to get presents for.
All he had to do was get some extra Christmas stockings and fetch a present that Rias had prepared for Issei for tomorrow.
It was getting colder, the snowflakes were falling more heavily by the minute. He was confident that he'll be okay, but spending Christmas Eve underneath foot-long snow didn't sound appealing to him, devil or not.
Kiba had no choice but take a shortcut through the well-lit shopping areas between alleyways and cut into a desolate part of the neighborhood.
The first thing that he noticed was how dark it was. Most of the streetlights had short-circuited sometime during the week and that left the neighborhood street covered in nothing but shadows.
The only hope of some semblance of light in the area being a single wall-mounted lamp in the distance.
It made sense how many of the people in the neighborhood had opted to stay indoors despite it being Christmas. Kiba had fought his fair share of strays and fallen angels during his service to Rias, but even he couldn't help but feel a little jumpy whilst he strode through the area.
It could've just been the Christmas Beetles that he saw pass by, but he'll never admit to the small tinge of discomfort he felt just seeing those things.
It should've been the most disturbing thing he'd seen that night, but it wasn't.
He could hear footsteps coming from the distance, along with what sounded like the rattling of chains and the solid screech of something metallic and sharp, being dragged across the asphalt.
Narrowing his eyes, Kiba gently placed the present and the stockings on the sidewalk. No one was coming at this time, nor were they on the street.
He carefully walked his way towards the sound. The rattling and the screeching getting louder and louder with each step he took. His body had unconsciously begun to shake. In his case, it was never a good sign.
He readied his hands, preparing to activate his Sacred Gear if necessary. Moving his hands behind his back in hope for subtlety in case it was just a hobo making his way back.
Somehow he had doubted that was the case.
Moments passed, and the screeching had never once ceased. The ominous footsteps could now be heard just over the rattling of chains. His heart pounded. Whatever it was, it was making its way straight towards him.
He abandoned the hope of it being a normal human and stopped in his tracks just moments away from the wall-mounted lamp. He braced himself, bringing forth his right leg and holding a stance. Whatever it was, he wouldn't let it get the preemptive strike.
The figure stepped into the wall lamp. It's white, featureless mask eagerly greeting him.
What followed was the large black hooded coat it wore. It was torn and some parts molded to form a sickly green. The chains, while he could barely notice them, were hanging loosely from the big sleeve of its oversized coat. The chain on the left was tightly strung, clinging closer to the left sleeve while the other was dragging on the ground.
Kiba couldn't make out what made the sharp grinding sound during the entity's journey here at first glance. Regardless, given by how much his body started to shake, Kiba had little doubt that what he was dealing with was some sort of exorcist that possessed vast experience in battle.
As it moved past the wall lamp, a small light flashed him just underneath the left sleeve. It was armed. Great.
Kiba prepared to attack, summoning his dark blade, Holy Eraser, with a flick of his wrist and shifting his foot to the right.
"Who are you!?" Kiba called out. He held the Holy Eraser, which hummed in anticipation as the tip pointed towards the entity.
It stopped. Giving Kiba a quick glance up and down, before resuming its advance.
"I am looking for someone."
Its voice was hoarse and deep. A man. But it possessed none of the rasp tone that old men possessed. He was young, Kiba estimated late twenties.
It held no specific tone that mocked him, nor held any tone that seemed frightful or looking for help. It was professional, intensely so. Cold and professional, silent. Like an assassin. Saying what only needs to be said and nothing more.
In some way, Kiba was annoyed when the entity spoke. Its tone made it seem as though he himself wasn't worth its time. The fact that the only response he'd gotten to his threat was a quick glance before it moved on hit against Kiba's pride more than what he'd like to admit.
He took the entities constant advance as hostile intention. Within a split second, Kiba's sword whipped towards the entities left side.
He back peddled, avoiding Holy Eraser's slash. Kiba didn't let up, rushing at him with a flurry of rapid slashes, all aimed at his midsection.
Skillfully, the masked man avoided all lethal injury. Making use of his dented clothing to maneuver past and bait out the blades continuous angry slashes, as though he was dancing with the wind.
Kiba ceased the attack and as he held onto Holy Eraser, aimed at the man's featureless mask. Intent on discovering this man's identity.
He dodged the oncoming strike and the blade flashed across his ear. He grabbed his mask and noticed how Kiba had dented it. Kiba slashed down, hitting nothing but snow when the masked man darted back to the wall lamp, the sharp screech returning as the entity skidded across the icy ground.
With an empty stare, the man up straight and let the chain on his left sleeve drop to the snow.
Kiba spotted an opening and rushed in. Twisting his sword into an overhead swing.
He heard a loud screech and with a flash of sparks his sword was suddenly parried.
Disbelief colored his face when he saw his Holy Eraser sharply grinding against three slim claws extended from the cloaked man's left sleeve.
Through the corner of his eye as he struggled, Kiba could make out sharp claw marks that pocketed the ground where his adversary once stood.
Slowly, the entity begun to take small, powerful steps forward, his claws grinding against Kiba's sword as Kiba was pushed back.
His eyes widened. He was being overpowered.
He stomped against the ground hard, and with a guttural bellow, he attempted to regain his ground in the struggle.
All that answered was a tilted head from the cloaked man.
"Hm." He sounded.
When Kiba raised his eyebrow in confusion, the entity rapidly withdrew his claws, twisted, then kicked against Kiba's ankles, tripping him and sending him tumbling towards the ground.
Before the snow could cushion his impact, the masked man launched him across the street with a reverse kick to the face, sending the devil crashing into a pole with had a broken streetlight.
Kiba felt the sharp pain stab of his nose breaking and the blood oozing onto his lower face.
The man hit hard. He reminded him of the priests that trained him in the Vatican. Fighting with impassiveness and no mercy. This wasn't enough to incapacitate him, but that didn't stop the nose from burning.
The man stared down him, and after a few minutes of silence began to walk over
Kiba rose onto his feet, disoriented from the impact to the head.
He used Holy Eraser to regain his balance and hold up his body, damaged from the hit, above ground.
The entity was little more than a feet from him. Kiba glared into his featureless and dented mask. Eyes burning with frustration and anger, the inferno raging brighter the more the cicadas sounded across the empty and desolate neighborhood.
He heard a sharp cling. And found that the entity withdrew his claws, and the loose chain has once again tightened against his left sleeve.
He turned away from Kiba's burning gaze, and began to walk.
"You, are not the one." He said. Walking past all the broken streetlights and the small gifts that Kiba had layed down nearby. Disappearing into the snowfall. Loose chains still rattling against the icy road.
Kiba stood against the streetlight, holding on tightly to the presents he'd gotten. Trying to avoid getting the white Christmas wrap stained with the blood of his broken nose.
Moments after the entity left, he had begun to contemplate what he's intentions were.
He didn't seem to know him nor what his presence represented. Either that, or he knew. But just didn't care.
Was he a mercenary? Or a rouge exorcist from the Vatican that they missed when they dealt with Kokabiel?
He said he was looking for someone.
But who?
Kiba clenched his head, and started walking back home. He wasn't in the mindset to think about what had occurred tonight.
It's likely that she'll overreact, but he had to warn Rias of this entity.
He let his guard down and had gotten his ass kicked.
Next time he hears that dreaded screech he'll send Betrayer his way.
Not tonight though.
All he wants right now, is a goddamn shower.
Abslon
"It's getting colder." Sona clenched the sides of her shoulders. She was shaking, a lot. Ever since we started walking away from the park.
I would have offered her my coat. But I also don't do well against the cold. She complained about it while we were starting to leave, right until I opened the thermal coat just a whiff and blood started dripping from my nose.
She remained silent for quite a while after that. The subject of my thermal coat never arising.
"This is the part I honestly hate about Christmas. It's so cold."
I felt small traces of sweat drop against my cheek. "You're making me feel guilty."
"Sorry. I know you have your…condition. Albeit it's a bit unusual. I don't think I've even heard of a condition of yours in my life." Sona said.
"I've been told that I'm unique." I said.
"I can certainly see."
"Sarcasm?"
"What do you expect?" Sona shrugged her arms. "I run into someone who doesn't speak the native language trying to buy something from someone who does."
I opened my mouth and held out my finger to retort, only to drop them when I realized that what I did was kind of stupid. All I could do was pout.
Shit.
"I…can't dispute that. To be fair, Christmas Eve was turning out to be a rough night." My heart was still pounding with traces of adrenaline. My heart and mind were both still with calm and raging with anxiety.
It was a rather odd feeling to have. At this specific time, at this specific place. Sharing food with someone I've just met isn't something I usually do. I kept wondering over our journey about what exactly had made me so spontaneous at that moment.
Perhaps I had wanted to get further away from the memories. The icy forest and the black berretta. In my anxiety I had clung to the first exit I had. To get away from the pain, the anguish, the suffering.
Sona.
Maybe that's why I find it so easy to talk to her. Cause whether she'd meant to or not, in some small way she had helped me get away from the sadness.
"Mind if I go into that store for a bit? There's something I need to get." Sona asked. She motioned towards a small convenience store nearby. Smaller than the Seven-Eleven, and missing the notable glowing neon sign.
"Not at all, go ahead."
"Thanks. I won't be gone for long."
Sona treaded towards the convenience store, snowflakes beginning to fall a bit more harshly as the snow at her feet continued building up. I stood there, waiting. At the very same spot that Sona had left me at.
My eyes began drifting as time passed. Upward towards the darkened clouds and downward towards the small congregation of heavy footprints in the snow. They varied, but not by a lot. Most of them being medium to large, some with small flat spikes and some clearly sandals.
I placed my shoe onto one of the small footprints. It was a perfect fit despite the difference in shoes given by the shape of our soles.
A sharp pain flashed across my hands and feet. I looked down, chains and rusted iron binds. Scratching and cutting against my wrists and the ankles of my naked feet. I was shorter, the footprint I had stepped on seemed a lot more bigger than it previously was.
The snow prints were rather clean, and amongst the numerous amount of footprints that lay on the fallen snow. All of them shared the same size, but lack the same shape. Including my own, I counted a total of ten footprints in the snow.
A sigh rasped against my breath. My heart beating a frantic crescendo against my ribcage. Sweat began to form at my forehead, I clenched the remainder of the Andoroxyn inside my pocket.
D̴͉̿̈́̾́̚̕ò̢̮̺͍͜͟͝͞n̞ͧ͐̓̈ͩ͋͏̷̡̢͝͞'̨̡̉͊͝t̸͈͕͈̻͇̠̹͋ͯ͌͘̕͢͟ ̵̵̛̮͈͔̜̪̊͛ͫ̿͑̓̒ṡ͉̯̖̼̫̇ͥ̀h̴̙o̸̵̥̘͈͎̰̲̺͜w̨̟͚̙̭͉͖ͧͩ̌ͩ̕ ̸̰̬̻͔̤̗͎̈́̄͂̀ͪ͋͜t͎͓̓̃ͧͤ̕h͍͚̯̩̲̞̍͂ͩe̡̥̳͕̣͉͒́́̑͛͊ ̢̗͍̞͉͔̘̂ͫͮ̓͊ͬ͠ͅd͍͗͋̕͟͡͡ę̸̡͇̳̳́͡ş̬̞̲̞ͨͦ͋͜ṗ̝̭̿̾͏̷̀̕̕͠a̶͉̣̻̼͍̤ͬ̈͌ͨ́̀̕̕͟͞į̯̔̏͢͠͝͏͢r͚ͭ̑̎ͫͥ.̨̪̞̮̫̋ͧ̋̓ ̏̊ͪͩ͜
Hey! What are you waiting for Abslon? It's fun over here!!
Slowly, I inhaled and exhaled. Keeping a steady airflow. Trying to avoid how anxious I was getting hearing them again.
In and out. In and out.
D̻͂i̶d ̷wḙ ̝̔m̎e͎̓ǎ̛͖n͜ ̵̰̇n̬ͩo̴t͍h̉͞i͖͝n͇g̨ ̴ͤt͈o̙͏ ̇͜y̪ͮo̥ͩ͏ū?̲̔͏
Small footprints began appearing in the snow just before me. I could feel my heart and my breathing beginning to speed up.
D̷̢͐ͬ́̚͘̕͢o͂ň̶̶̴̵̷̮̭͍̤̖̭̱ͬ͠'̗̩ͥ́͏̸̨̧̢͘͘ẗ̪͕̩́͠͝ ̪̠̦͋̀̔̈́̂ͨͅc̘̦̟̺̞͉ͧ̾ͥ̽̓r̢̙̜͙̟͇̱͎ͤ͐̌̾̔́̕y̡̮̼̲̬͓̟̘̒̀͢͠͞.̣̥̬̠̤͚ͨ͒̔͑̌ͯ̋ͅ ̡̘̘ͦ͑̀͡͠͏
I started to see little black spots in my vision, my arms and legs felt too heavy to lift up, chained against the snow. My world slowly started spinning and I felt as though I was going to throw up again.
I̷͂̂̉͂͒̒̀t̡̉̔̇̏͑̓̅̂͝ ̷̴̓̀ͥ͛͟͢h̸̸ͮ̈́̆̓͂̐̓͂͋ͩ̀̀͝͏̧̢̕͞ư̴̷̢̢ͨ͒ͮ͒ͧ̋̄̅͗͘̕͜͝͞r̾̏̇ͫ̇ͭͮ͋̀͐̏̀́̕͘ṫͦͮ̀ͩͬ͗͏͘͜͠s̷̵̴̸̛̎ͪ̓̒̄̅͑̀̀͜͜͠͝͠.̧̢̛͛͂͗͒̆̈́͊̈́́̚̕͞͝ ̶̸̴̧̡̛̓̑̐̉̆̆̐̊́͜͢͠͠
I̧t̨̉'̝̾s͎̅ ̳͌s͔̓o̸̲ ͅn͖̕ic̵̝eͅ ọ̒u͠t̟͒! ͕̚L̘oǒk̖ͩ à͏t̛ ͔͡a̠lͨl̦ ̴̦ṯh̾e̢̒ ̔͞s͈̔n̚͡o̩̿w̕ ̷arͬo̼ų̠ͭn͜d!
D̢̢̛̿̊̃̏̓̔̈o̵̢̿ͦ̅̀͛ͦ͗̂̍̇̽̚͢͠n̷̸̔̒͌̔ͫͮ͌͜'̷̴̡͟ẗ́ͮͩ̍̔̐̈̂ͫͨͬ͏̵̶̶̸̶͘͘͢͠ ̨̢́ͯ͠s̶̸̨̨̧ͮ́͒̑͒͆̾̄̇͝͡͠͞ḩ̸̸̢ͯ̓̐ͯ̾ͪ̐͒͂ͧ̕͘̕͟͢͟͝͝o̡̡̨̡̔ͫ̔ͩ͂̆͛ͦ͠͝͞w̴̴̸̸̢̢ͧ̔̍͊̆̀̚̚̕͝͝ ̶̛̋̒͐̾͛̊͒̈́̐͒̀͢͝t̵̨͂̂ͦ̕h̸̶̶̨̽ͩ̅ͫ̓̈̓ͭ͋̿̏́̀̕͜͠ẽ̶̴̸̛̒ͭͫͪ̆̈́ͧͪ̃̄̂́̀͘͘͢͠͡ ͗̇̆̍̎͆̎͏̷̷̷̧̨̢̛̛̕͢͡D̸̶̛̛͑̔̍ͬ̽̂̐̔ͫ̓̃͢͜͜͝ę̛̋ͮ̒̈́ͧ̀͘͢s̈́ͧ͒̈́ͭ̓̈ͣ̍͢p̶̧̨̽̑̌̉ͤ͊͐ͬ͝͡͏̨̧̕͢͟͝a̡͊̎̍̉̑̽̽̏̓́̃͏͞ḯ̶̷̡̨͊̎̄͂̃ͥ͒̌͂̓̀̀̚̚̕͟͟͜͞͠ŗ̸̷̡̡̛ͣͮ́͜͟͡͞.̢̨̨̆̈́̕͘͠ ̶̶̡̨͛̆̔ͮ̊̏ͯ͏̶̨̀̀́͜͠͝
I had managed to gain some ground and overtime I was beginning to feel less dizzy. My arms shot with a sudden and intense pain. It felt as though something was digging through me and passing through each of my veins. Latching itself against the inner walls of my skin.
My muscles tensed up, barely being able to push my arms down. I raised them and looked at the numerous amount of black veins that appeared across them. To my terror, I soon wasn't able to feel any of my arms.
Why!̢? ̴Wh̀y d̸o ͏we h͠ave ̨t͠o ͢g͢o t͜hroug̸h ţhi͝s͞?̡!́
D̷̢̋̏ͪͤͧ̾̎̍ͧ́͡͏̴̨̨͜o̵̵ͯ́̏͂̿̓̀͘̕͢͢͢n̸̨̨͝͠'ͪ͒t̸̷̶̡ͩ̒ͪ̂ͯ̀ͮ͊̍ͥ͐̆͂͘͜͡ ̴̷̴̴̷̢̧̧̛̛̅͐̈̒͛ͮͫ̋͘͢͡l̴̎͘̕͝ë̴̢́̒͊͒͒̂̉̓̎ͥ͋̕͞͠tͨ̆̊̐̽̄̃͛̏͑̈͘͟͠ ̸̵̢ͭ̿ͮ̊̍̋́̀͜͡͞͠h̢͗͐̒̾̓̐̏̔ͣ̈̈́͢ę̍́͆̽̈ͮ̐ͧ̂͟͏̵̡r̴̷̨̢͊͛̆ͭ̔̌͗͌ͪͨ̊̄̆̕ ̶̵ͦ̅́͞͠f̴̷͜i̴̢͛̕͠͡͏̶̵̸͘͢n̶̛ͪ͌ͧ͂ͮ̔̽̀̊d̷̴̛̈́̉̅̽͌̉̑̃͋͗̚͟ ͊ͬ͒̍ͪͪ͏̸̵̧͘͢͢͢͟͞͝͝y̷̷̵̧̢̨͆ͯͮͤ̋̋́͟͢͜͞͝͝o̡͂̔ͮ̔̽̏ͧͯ̎ͩ̒͛͌u͐ͬ͏.̷̴̡̨̡̉̌͂ͦ̏̔̄ͨ̅͊́͂́̀́͘͢͜͠ ̸̷̧̡ͤͬͣͯ̈̽̿̈ͣ̋̚͟͜͢͡͠͏̸͘
"…"
My breath came out in small, raspy and desperate gasps. It was getting hard for me to breathe. I felt as though I was being choked by the atmosphere.
The small black dots have already disappeared. Replaced by the same black veins that were on my arm, and the sickly feeling of something being inside my eye. And the gross wetness of something lodging itself into my ear, but the anguish of not being able to see it because of the blackness in my eyes.
I̴̴̳̝̲̹͢ ͍̪̔͊ͬͩW̛̮͆ͨO͓ͨ̅ͧ́̕͠͝N͔̘̾͛͡T̢͎͇͂͌́͘͜'̴̢̃͋͘'̷̎̕͝T̷̵̥̲̎͡ ̟͆ͯ̒L̦̥͈ͦ̔E̴͖̎ͮ̆͝T̷̏̀ ̢̓̈ͦY̌̈́͝Ŏ̬̗ͯ͊Ụ̴̴̰͍̯̋ ̠͉̪̔͜
Suddenly, I heard a voice. At first I had expected it to come from one of my memories I had locked behind. But this one felt wrong. It didn't remind me of Emihide or the other children in the slightest.
It was faint, almost barely noticeable amongst the shrills of Emihide's voice within my memories and the continuous cracks of the black berretta.
Yet within its short passing, it sent a sliver of oppressive darkness down my spine which for a moment had even encompassed what Kurlean had made me felt.
Ding!
With the ring of the convenience store bell, all of those feelings suddenly enveloped into thin air. The small trudging of little feet against the snow sounded once again.
Sona came out the store, two long black sticks in her hand.
"I made sure that I left the store in just under a minute. These things were quite easy to buy, even though I wasn't expecting them to be." Sona said, raising the two slim black sticks.
I took a deep breath, letting go of the Andoroxyn capsule I have in my bag and started walking with Sona again. We didn't get too far until we stopped again, this time back at the park playground were we shared the box set.
She offered me one of those black sticks. And it was upon closer inspection did I notice that the black marks on these sticks were actually ounces of rough gunpowder, weaker than most yet was as flammable as a match.
"This has always been a pastime of mine when Christmas rolls around. It's oddly relaxing when you light them. If you hold them close enough and are not afraid of the sparks that'll fly, you'll actually notice that they have a pleasant odor." Sona said, holding it in front of her body and brandishing a lighter.
I tilted my head. "Sparks?"
Sona lit up the lighter and held it up close to the black stick for a few seconds before it caught fire, but instead of a small flame or even a little explosion like what I was expecting, sparks instead continuously flew from the gunpowder.
She then moved the lighter away from her stick and held it towards me, a small flame still burning free and calmly from it.
Hesitantly I held out my own stick while making sure to cover my eyes lest the sparks end up being harmful. I could soon hear the sounds and feel the vibrations of my stick sending out sparks themselves.
Slowly I pried open my eyes, and stared at the sparks in my hand.
They reminded me of numerous stars jumping away from each other, yet for me, they flowed gracefully and shone brightly as if it were a single flame.
Staring at the sparks in my hand, smelling the oddly enticing scent of burnt gunpowder and feeling the cold yet comfortable wind on my skin. It reminded me of Emma's flame. How beautiful it looked.
It was something so simple and plain. It wasn't shaped like a dragon or a flower or anything else extreme like that. And, at first. I saw no reason for Emma to get so excited over it. But perhaps that small little flame was the only memory that I had of the salamander girl.
So, I appreciated the beauty of this faint memory that I held of her.
A sharp pain brandished across my body. The chains and the rusted binds appeared on my arms and my legs yet again. It hurt, but not as much as how painfully that this beautiful flame had clung to my heart so tightly.
Yet I embraced that pain. For within it lay the warmth that Emma herself had represented. And no matter how much I despised it, my pain, her pain and the pain of all the Children. I could never despise what Emma had shouldered.
This flame, will be our Gospel.
Slowly, I could feel something wet slide ever so gently down my cheek. I had never once thought of wiping it away till the sparks ran dry, and stood only Sona's. Proudly battling against the dark night as the luster of the full moonlight brightened up her violet eyes.
Until the spark faded, the light of the scattering flame had only brandished a single shadow between us, fading away as the light dimmed and melded into the darkness.
???
What bells will toll for we who are cattle?
Only the sounds of the angry roars and the black chains rattle.
With the echoes of stagnant air and the cackling of the bloody chair.
The requiem of our twisted binds shall be our darkest prayer.
Cast away your anger. Your hatred. Your sadness.
And become that at which you most loathe and fear.
Then you shall know no pain.
And you shall know no sadness.
And at the hour of its black flames, your despair shall be its Last Gospel.
Valadia hummed the melancholic tune as she trudged against the snow. Her feet crunching against the icy flakes as the snow fell around her.
As time had passed and the snowfall grew even harsher it became increasingly harder for her to ascend this path that had seemed to span over endlessly, as if it were an icy desert.
She had faith that her Physiology as a Fallen Angel would allow her to brave the harsh cold, but the problem had lied within the place she had sought out.
The air stilled and for a minute she froze. Carefully scouting across the mountain range before proceeding carefully along the frozen path.
Cold air pelted harshly against her skin. Gritting her teeth, Valadia threw her coat over and braved the freezing chill. She was growing near, she could feel it in the way the air seemed to grow more eerie at each step.
Once again, she hummed along to the rhythm of the sad hymn, the melancholic yet, heartwarming memories behind it providing her with warmth to combat the winter air.
Suddenly, the harsh wind stopped. And so did her stride.
She flexed open her hand, and with small cracks of lightning, she had shaped golden light into a sword and tightly grasped its hilt. As it hummed and steamed from the heat battling the frozen air. She strode tensely against the snowfall, picking up numerous of soft scrapes against the snow.
Valadia sniffed the air. Metal. She looked down and towards the future path that lied ahead. As she traversed the foot-long snow she felt her foot finally hit stone underneath all that stone.
Stairs. Old and worn from years of enduring the harsh elements.
She breathed, slowly, in and out. As she slowly trudged up the stairs, eyes darting left and right. Heart racing and pumping adrenaline in case of an ambush. She kept her hand resting on her sword. Lest she be surprised by anything she didn't expect.
She was expecting them. But she had hoped they won't be expecting her.
Eventually, Valadia had reached the top of the frozen stairs. She was greeted by an enormous wooden manor. Its frame that stamped into the snow and icy rocks being well-kept for its apparent age that the cracks on the stairs had shone.
The lights were on. And through the silhouettes it seemed like it was the right place.
Sharp wind had cut against the cold still air, and as if it were simple instinct she dashed to the side. Narrowly avoiding a trio of slim blades slashing past her and scraping against the ground of where she once stood.
The featureless mask shone, and at that moment Valadia had lost all hesitation and dashed towards the masked figure.
The entity stood helplessly as he was impaled by her glowing sword, aiming to be too fast for him to counter and too fast for him react to.
With a sharp look in her eyes, she ripped the protruding sword out of the body of the masked figure. Blood gushing out of the sword wound and staining her dark coat as though it were a small geyser.
She grimaced in a small amount of disgust as she actively wiped away the bloodstains
The body fell to the ground with a thud. Her eyes then darted to the left and right. Hearing sounds of heavy footsteps rapidly crunching against the snow and the small icy rocks below near entrance to the manor.
Valadia found herself at the attention of more of the masked figures, noting at the luster of those blades the assailants wielded. They brandished their sharp blades, surrounding her and blocking her only entrance into the manor.
Slowly preparing herself for this confrontation, she moved her sword hand away from her body and extended the blades length till the tip nearly touched the snow.
She gripped the newly formed lance tightly, held it in the air and whipped it towards the side.
Her advance started as small walks, then sped up to a run. The masked guards that surrounded the manor entrance charged at her when she started to sprint towards them.
The blade of her glowing lance flashed across the stone plain, shades of blood splatter accompanying the shrill and ghastly sounds the lance made as she drove it into continuous and unending sharp attacks.
She stabbed, slashed and spun the glowing lance around as though she were dancing to her melancholic song and the guttural cries of her enemies.
Her glowing lance had pathetically cut through the numerous trios of slim blades, all aimed at places where the masked figures could ensure a quick kill.
The confrontation began easily enough, but she had found herself getting quickly overpowered due to her ever increasing weariness. And the sheer numbers they came at her with.
Two of them managed to slip past the line of her sight, and moved into both of her sides, each brandishing their slim blades in preparation for a strike.
Before she could move to intercept them, a third jumped towards her. Its blades reaching the sky in an overhead swing.
In an act of her battle-honed instinct, she had brought her glowing lance to intercept the oncoming swing. When the blades clashed, she realized their plan.
She was pinned by the blade struggle with the third guard, whilst the other two were aiming to stab at her sides when she was vulnerable.
Reacting quickly, she reached into her mind and flexed two extra limbs that unfurled as a pair of black-grey wings.
She covered her sides with them. And the wings hardened into blades.
The blades slammed into the bladed wings with a harsh bang. Her lips curled up into a wince of pain whilst enduring the impact of the strike. They staggered, shards of their blades skidding away with sparks against the ground.
She shifted her footing and with a yell, she flexed her wings out harshly until they reached their full span, the sheer force of the wings expanding sending the two attackers crashing away.
She tightened her fist and slugged the third, his mask shattering at the impact of her blow.
The assailant darted away and clenched at his naked face, giving her the window to rush the guard and run him through with the glowing lance.
As he fell, the two other guards that remained injured had started to recover from her previous counter. Slowly rising up and cupping the now broken pieces of their slim blades.
She shortened the length of her lance, turning it back into a sword and flexing it at her side. Daring them to charge at her.
The two masked entities removed their blades then dug into their coats. When their arms moved away from their coats, she noticed that the slim blades that broke upon impact with her wings were replaced. This time brandishing them in both hands instead of one.
Fools. The lot of them.
Valadia unfurled her wings once again and held her glowing sword in the air with a reverse grip.
As the duo charged, she sent the blade down. And suddenly, the ground imploded and sent ounces of snowflakes and sand into the air, obscuring the duos vision of Valadia.
They stopped for a second, until they heard a sharp cut against the air. They jumped away, but the remaining guard spotted a sharp black feather protruding from the head of his comrade. And another sticking into the ground of where he once stood.
Valadia dashed out, the snowflakes at the sides of her vision disappearing into blurs and streamlines. She rammed her sword through the last guard till she could only see the hilt.
She swallowed down her disgust at the large volumes of blood that splashed onto her face in continuous streams. She then raised her leg and as she slowly dragged the blade out of his gut, she kicked the guard down the staircase.
Raising her hand and wiping away the blood, she listened to the sound of frantic wind within the winter air. She heard the rattle of chains against the frozen ground. And before she could even turn around, she felt the familiar, burning sensation of a thousand needles pricking against her skin.
"Dead Apostles." She growled.
Holy weapons. She could sense the divine traces of those objects, mostly within the chains that the Dead Apostles dragged against the ground. And whatever they had attached to them.
No doubt expecting her, given by the preparation they had taken expecting her arrival.
Valadia took a deep breath and hardened her wings. Her muscles tensed and cracks of lightning shot out of her body. She was hoping not to use this much energy when dealing with these Dead Apostles.
But they came in numbers, and they had come prepared. She knew exactly the amount of trouble their hidden chains can pose.
She charged at them, and the Apostles charged at her.
Chains flew up into the sky and dived towards her, revealing red tinted hooks to be attached to them. Valadia narrowed her eyes, and stopped her charge. Opting for dashing to the side to avoid the oncoming red hooks.
Some of the Apostles followed her, drawing their blades and aiming for an attack.
Quickly she stopped and charged at the Apostles. One of them waved his blades towards her side. She two handed her sword and wacked the blades away before grabbing him whilst he was staggered from the blow and tossing him into the oncoming chains.
It ripped through him before the chains and hooks began to pull back and drag the body with it.
Her quick thinking lead to numerous Dead Apostles getting tangled together. She turned to the other Apostles charging at her, she was able to deal with them with the time she gave herself.
She stabbed her sword into the ground, then dragged it across whilst she charged at them. Before she reached them she suddenly lifted it and sent a large dust cloud towards the Apostles.
Regardless, they still charged forth. Valadia twisted her sword into an overhead swing, keeping her elbows near her head as the sword cracked and surged with streams of yellow lightning.
As she swung down onto the incoming Apostle, he blocked the attack with his claws. But he underestimated the force of Valadia's electrified blow. His body incinerating as she effortlessly cut through his blades and bisected his body.
The other Apostles froze in place. Valadia didn't let up and rushed at them with her electrified sword. Relentlessly cutting them apart. Her dark grey coat continuously being stained with blood.
She stopped for a moment to catch her breath, switching the hand which held her sword. Suddenly through the corner of her eyes she spotted the blades closing in on her.
She couldn't use the sword to intercept the blades from this close. She thought fast, and on instinct she lifted up her arm and allowed it to get stabbed with the blades.
Valadia had almost let out a sharp cry, but she bit her tongue and held the Apostle in place. She dropped her sword, letting it fall into the snow and lose its electric glow.
With her free hand, she dug into her dark coat. The Apostle noticed this and began to take small steps towards her and push her into a tree, pinning her with the blades still stabbed into her bleeding arm.
It was a struggle to get her arm out after she was pinned to the tree. But when she did, the Apostle found himself staring down the barrel of a Beretta M9 she held in her free hand.
With an ear-splitting crack, Valadia opened fire and blew his brain out. Patches of blood splattered across her face again as the Dead Apostle fell over, a fresh hole through its featureless mask.
She stared down the corpse and paled. Her breathing getting harsher and more frantic as time passed.
Her knees gave out and she dragged herself back against the tree, skidding towards the snowed ground. She brought the gun to her sight and stared at it for a while. Afterwards letting it drop to the snow.
She looked to the sky and gave a hollow chuckle. Then she turned to the corpse of the Dead Apostle, and stared aimlessly at it. Specifically, the bloody hole on its mask.
"I'm still not used to it, Emi. And I still don't understand." She said in half-chuckles as she fiddled with the gun.
Once again, she raised it to her sight. This time, caressing it as though the gun were to break apart with a single touch.
"Even as I'm about to meet her. Our enemy. I still can't understand."
She grimaced and clenched her chest. Where her heart was.
"Emi-"
Frustrated and pained by her desperate cry. She grabbed the rims of her head and pulled on chunks of her dark hair.
"Emihide...Why..." She uttered out. Her face contorting into a facade of betrayal and confusion as she uttered out the name of her best friend.
"Even after all this. I still don't understand...how?
"How was it so... easy for you. After all we have been through…"
"..."
"To put a bullet through our friend's skull?"
This Chapter finally marks the halfway point for this prologue.
I honestly wasn't expecting this chapter to be this long. I expected it about 4k but Lo and behold. here I was, 7k under the belt.
Lots of big reveals this chapter. the identity of Abslon's shooter and the Dead Apostles.
Yes I took the name from Fate.
These are not the same Apostles tho, as you can see.
Next chapter would include Valadia's memory. and potentially, may include a trigger warning for child-death.
Until that time, feel free to ask questions, criticise and comment.
Cya.