Lucky Souls
Chapter 23: Life
You cannot be responsible for salvation until you've first been responsible for sin. Mistrust was Konata Izumi's first sin, apprehension of her own values and fatuous actions and inactions. How bold, or perhaps callow, would she have been to trust in her own ways unflinchingly without even consulting her own heart on the behaviors she enforced?
And yet now, by the weight of her own actions and inactions crushing down upon her, she doubtlessly desired a second chance to trust in herself. Regardless of the supremely juvenile nature of it, she truly wished for a second chance to adhere to a far more unknowing way of mind. Had she only acted, instead of listened, contrary to every wisdom-filled advice she had ever received, the contrary result now shown through miserably.
Listened she had, and it nearly got all of her friends killed. Dubious of her own will, she defied them arrogantly, knowing her own way of thinking had come to bring nothing but misery on others. How she wished she could reverse such a sentiment though, how she prayed the results of a more profound nature of thought had not lead to the calamitous situation she now found herself in.
How could she ever trust in herself when such lies clouded her reality? Lies seemed to mingle with her very cells by this point, lies concerning who she was and what she truly wanted. To trust is to know, and she knew yet defied that trust, how foolish she was.
The abhorrent, uncaring evils of the world had now plagued one she cared for passionately, absolutely and without even a hint of consideration. This love was what now allowed her mistrust to be washed away with the foul voices in her head, the ones that battered her heart and dulled her bladed mind.
Poor Kagami, stricken with the Dregling illness, the one Konata suspected she was responsible for, and it seemed far too late to intervene on fate's contrivance at this point. The Dregling had eluded her, found and attacked her, and as quickly as she came, vanished back into the shadowed lands she had firstly disappeared into. With the death of Miyuki's master, it seemed as if at last she would be reunited with the lost child, only to again be abandoning her duty, and friends, in merriment of her selfishness, in search of the retreating Kagami.
And unfortunately, she'd need all the adroitness she could manage to locate Kagami in the labyrinthine maze of assorted works of ancient men outstretched before her. The development of the shadowed temples breadth had apparently persisted in their expansion to the very crest of the cliff sides and bluffs that extended outward to the sea.
A genesis of theological markings adorned the collection of box-shaped mosques and ripe, musty temples, most of which followed a pattern of thickened pillars cradling timeless slabs of stone roofs. The chapels and stations of worship had lessened in purity, decrepit and morbidly overgrown by thickets of browning, dead weeds and vines, which only seemed to add to the primeval charm of the holy grounds.
Asceticism was apparently practiced even while in rest, for the temple grounds contained dozens of dormitories for young, unmolded minds and sculpted teachers alike, burned by long doused flames and toppled by the winds of time. Yet despite a chronicle of destruction the stained glass windows, exquisitely crafted in the shapes and forms of the Black Demon's scriptures and oaths, stood as endless testaments in the afterglow.
Nary the only survivor of the Old One's miasma were the embroidered exemplifications of mage-kind's wills, flags made in earnest colors of lavender and gold, that swung carelessly in honor of a dead people. And for every shredded flag of various magician clans that hung overhead, conjoined by dulled copper poles atop the doorway of every dilapidated temple building, Konata continuously mistook their swaying movements for an agile Dregling, her Kagami lost amongst this wreckage, and it sent shivers down her spine with each merciless chortle of the breeze that sent these colors afloat.
Indeed these minor existences of chromaticity bore the only coloration within an otherwise achromatic environment. Faded, dusty grey buildings against the backdrop of equally preserved, and darkened stormy clouds certainly didn't exude the same display of pride and whimsy as the fluttering flags.
Yet these semblances of structures that once were offered her no hope in her search. While certainly any of their cobweb infested furniture of wood or stone carven crawlspaces would be a cloak enough to conceal, often times the last place would one look would be in the most obvious place, for fear of being far too obvious. It stood to attest that instead of searching these countless labs and dorms, Konata should instead focus her moxie towards invading the grandiose church that rose above all around her.
Peaking high above the amassed students of old, prophetically and warmly hung above their heads day by day, would've been the very colossal church towering at the center of the plateau. It stood tall, steeples wrought by the blackest iron that scraped the chins of the low-hanging clouds swirling about its spires of tarnished metals. The entire church seemed to be towers built upon towers, columns and rows of the things, stapled to the sides, front, back, and even sprouting from one another like misshapen growths.
Less of a structure and more of a statement of art, the church held no conventional walls of any kind, its appearance was more like the frame of a prototype for the divine castle that would eventually be. No supplements of wood or stone to be seen, simply a composition of dazzling, pulverized gems, flattened into sheets of ruby, emerald, amethyst, and the darkest, deepest azure. Were the sun's rays shining behind the blanket of cold, grey clouds overhead, surely the building would've been resplendent, perhaps even blinding.
Konata urged herself to the monolith, admiring the ambiguously exorbitant height, so daunting, nestling a perfect shiver of awe down her shoulders as she admired the beauty. Yet such a material elegance was not what she desired, so she shut herself out from the chapel's blooming radiance, pushing past the broken inward doorway and into a vast, remarkably vacant chamber.
No pews for comfortable worship, no altars to make offerings to the divine, no scriptures artistically rendered on the walls, indeed, the entirety of the inner sanctum seemed bereft of any and all architecture despite being so alluring externally.
Instead, only humble alignments of kneeling cushions, patterned in rows, abandoned next to now dusty and empty sinner's bowls. Konata couldn't help but wonder if perhaps before the plague of the miasma, the sanctum was perhaps, more bountiful and less startlingly humble, but on the other hand, it only made her search all the easier. Fewer distractions abound certainly provided more advantageous to hunting a specific entity, in this case, that which she sought was easily seen amongst the veritable nothingness.
For as her weary legs came to a halt, she bore witness to the very epitome of what she considered life's unforgiving loathing towards all who find themselves on its path.
Kagami, her love, curled to the ground like a tree bent by harsh winds, snarling like a cornered, injured beast at its end. Her once beautiful eyes had yellowed with demonic rot, shining like the gleam beget from coins under the suns breadth. The pulsing veins beneath her fleshy body had hardened to a black stall, pressing toughly against her graying skin in an effort to escape the ragged prison.
The luscious mane of violet that once adorned her head was now rattled with filth and hung down over her shoulders like a veil. The self offered sacrifice, the split down her chest, still hung open grotesquely in a splendor of still beating and functioning organs, her survival despite this grievous injury was surely only because of her newfound demonic blood.
And all around the demon, cascading their colorations upon her person, the gem infused walls and windows reflected their light tints upon her, spot-lighting the horror despite the victim's shame and attempt to hide it away. It was perhaps unfortunate, that all other buildings abounds surmounted by the mighty church seemed so dilapidated, free of roofs and windows, thankfully overcome by timely shrouds. There was no such case here, no shadow of the clouds to hide Kagami's hideous, demonic appearance, the church seemed only to emblematize it as the sin it was.
"Kagamin." Konata whispered helplessly, reaching an assisting hand out in her grief as she stumbled towards the girl, only for the monstrous Kagami to bat it away with a sharpened claw, and a low-toned growl.
Again some semblance of faculties took hold of the unstable Kagami, and she offered a subtle awareness of this with an irresolute, struggling scowl. Almost forcefully, she pushed herself away from the azure knight, charging forward for several steps before again collapsing through a pile of refuse, burying her hand beneath her quivering hands in shame as she prostrated herself before the forgotten god's temple walls.
"Kagami, it's alright." The bluenette pleaded once more, praying her imploring words would pull her friend from the maddening pit she found herself within. "You don't have to be afraid, I'm going to help you, okay?" However sure Konata's tone, the heavy weight of her words offered a declining, pathetic strength, she scarcely believed them herself.
"It isn't alright…" Kagami groused with pain, her demonic tongue already taking hold, her voice was reminiscent of an echo. "Konata…" Struggling she began again with an artificial chuckle. "I need you to know I don't…I don't blame you. I never blamed you for anything…" She appealed with sorrow, shakily standing to her feet before caving downwards thanks to a crippled knee.
"How stupid." Konata expressed with a soothing smile, strutting over to the demon and taking her friends gnarled claws in her own soft, human hands and affectionately unifying them. "Everything that's happened to us is my fault, even this…what's happened to you. My own selfishness caused everything; I wouldn't be surprised if my dad left because of me too." Feebly she considered, and yet chastely revealed a hint of hope that this was not so.
Kagami couldn't help but entertain a confused laugh, at the expense of more strained, hurtful gasps. "Now who's acting stupid? Oh, oh, oh god…" Her laughter subsided with a spark of pain from her severed chest, how fate mocked her by this point, not even allowing a simple laugh. "Please oh…Konata please, just end this one way or another. I-I'm not the type to just accept a death as dramatically ironic as this…we're supposed to be demon slayers, haha…ugh…" Another trace of branching pain throughout her exposed cavity cut her sentiment short, this time with a blood-splattering cough that painted itself across Konata's shirt.
"You askin' me to slay you, Kagamin?" Konata mindfully ignored her now patterned clothing, and ended on a joke as per usual. For a brief instant she considered that she had done so only to calm her friend in her dying moments.
"Slay? No stupid I mean free me from this curse! You resort that quick to killing me, how narrow-minded can you get…? Agh…huh, I mean, I couldn't even kill myself, maybe that's a sign that I'm too stubborn to die, especially with so much left unsaid and done." Kagami complained mockingly as she dropped to the dust, Konata in tail, nuzzling her now exquisitely aching skull into Konata's lap, and from this the pain was brought with a bearable bliss, a distraction from her impending death.
Konata reacted surprisingly aloof to the shockingly loving gesture from her perpetually angry little friend; perhaps the sense of doom or process of demonification had placed her in a mild delirium. The tender regard was of course, reciprocated with ardor. A brush of a stringy bit of lilac hair here, a caress of a muddy cheek there, Konata knew what it meant in this moment to care for one another absolutely, a fathomless love which words themselves could not define, a feeling expressed but never labeled.
In her near-death state, Kagami didn't notice the subtle gestures of enamored zeal from her friend, something Konata for the first time ever, had thanked the gods themselves for. How foolish would she be to spill her desires and feelings at this moment, in the heat of carnage and flush obscurity regarding the poor girl's survival, a sentiment that would be far too late to mean the lifetime of warmth she coveted to express.
"It's too late for me, isn't it…?" Kagami breathed helplessly, her once beautiful voice now barely discernible hidden beneath the hellish vocals of a demon, it almost sounded male to the ear.
However shaken she was in her own beliefs, or furious at herself for the result of them, her answer could not have wavered less in hopeless tenacity for the one she loved. "It's never too late." Konata reassured, leading her heaving fingers ever closer to her friends sweaty forehead.
The comforting stroke was stopped, cruelly, by the virus that exonerated her dying friend of free will, and bound her fealty to the lords of hell it served. It exploded from Kagami's gaping mouth in a rush of gunning wind, lifting Konata abysmally to the sky, and back down again harshly into the stony mosque stone floors at her feet, Konata screeched in begrudging pain as her body collided powerfully against them, and she hoped Kagami had not seen, nor heard her weakness.
As she stood, she knew the unfair truth, that the woman she loved was truly gone by own her culpability, a self indulgent desire to grow. Sliding droplets of blood down her swollen, lacerated face masked her agony, she had broken, and with the exhaustion of her strength came the grief-filled hysteria that had been burrowing, and poisoning her heart with its blight ever since her friend had vanished into the shadowed lands.
Kagami stood with her, almost boastfully under the authority of the demonic parasite, her teeth shown viciously in a gritted, toothy grin, twinkling under the faded tint of the church steeple's glossy reds and blues. Her mind, however adamant, was wiped clean by this point, only the Old One's influence remained in the hollow crust, it had seduced another with its reason of power where only consummate bearers of force would reign.
Steadily, and without any regret, Konata reached for the blade on her hip, notched with the cracks and scrapes of countless battles, and presented it to its next casualty, the former remnants of Kagami Hiiragi. Her blood-stained cheeks stung from the drying liquid, yet such pains, like the immense, crushing hurt she felt within, were only reminders of the job that needed to be done. The Old One could not remain, with change comes cost, sometimes even sacrifice, and the precursor of agony, enmity, and metempsychosis of the planet itself demanded such losses as tribute to its divine wish.
"I'll set you free." Konata promised, a pledge honor-bound by her contrition, and wholly by her desire for the woman once known as Kagami. She could not bear to see her in such a state of involuntary decree, for a proud will like Kagami's would never allow subjugation to another's fractured whims, the law of pride was the only rule her tsundere had ever known, and with the isolation came the sturdy power she knew she could rely upon. The demonic presence ridiculed a dear doctrine to her friend, a crime Konata would not forgive.
Konata practically threw herself at her cursed opponent, rashly tearing her blade through the air upwards in an arc, and down with a mighty force in an attempt to cleave through the Dregling's shoulder. The attack failed almost as expected, with the former human grabbing the blade with her now abnormally thickened hands, removing the threat from her field of vision and the swords-woman attached to it in a herculean throw that would make the Olympians of mythos envious.
Konata felt her flailing body suddenly cradled mid-air, silently thanking the untimely arrival of her ally's, specifically the nimble Misao that had caught her. The duo landed, separated and adjoined in battle stances, the rest of the company at their back with weapons and grim expressions drawn with haste. It seemed they had concluded a similar line of thinking like she, that the ominous church was certainly the first place to pervade in search of a sinful existence such as a demon.
"Dammit Hiiragi…" Misao mourned under her breath, regretting at this moment ever keeping the infected girls secret, regardless of her haughty claim to handle it.
"Onee-Chan…" Tsukasa predictably, was bristled with frustration at the sight, yet unexpectedly held no tears, only fright and awe. "W-What's wrong with Onee-Chan? Why is she…what's going on!?" She demanded to know, almost begged, for clarity on her sibling's possession.
"Dregling." Konata flatly answered, despite the dour moment, so beside herself with grief the plucky adventurer within could nary be seen at all. "It's too late, isn't it Hiyori?" She echoed the question presented to her by Kagami despite her earlier hopefulness, perhaps she believed it too.
Hiyori couldn't lie to herself as she inspected the damage before them; bleak was the only word that came to mind. The transformation had already warped nearly every aspect of the girl's body, and mind to its hellish vagary. The only cure for most infected to such a point was steel, a medicine nobody here would likely be willing to administer. At the prospect of slaying an ally the passing desire did not take her. Nor could it for one such as her, an individual who was usually late in all things, just enough to dine on the banquet of consequences and allow her aching belly to sterilize her mind, making it awash with careful consideration. Perhaps to Hiyori, it seemed easier to assess countermeasures to the error not preceding, but after the tragedy had already begun.
"There is an immeasurable distance between late, and too late." Hiyori began whimsically, her carefree smile off putting at a time such as this. "We are always far from too late. I told you she can be saved, and she can, the only way we will fail is if you lose hope." Hiyori added with energy, much needed reinvigoration to everyone's faltering courage.
"Tamura's right." The assassin, Nanako Kuroi chipped in. "I fought side by side with this kid before, she's no pushover. Let's bring her back to us with a smile on our faces, alright? All this gloomy stuff is wiggin' me out." However childishly her sentiment ended, it too, brought hope back to Konata's heart that her friend might be saved.
Hiyori pushed herself out of the group and offered a comforting hand on the Konata's shoulder in agreement. "Aye, but we'll need one huge soul to do it." With her words, as if it was destiny that she spoke them, the ground began to shake beneath all, heralding a terrible storm overhead.
The preeminent furor wrought from the storm began to violently wrack the vulnerable church, safe for over a decade from destruction despite the dark context of the shadowed lands; its safety began to crumble like the glassy components it was built from. The gusto of the wind itself bore enough potency to topple apparently delicately secured walls and tiles, tearing them from neglected bindings and shattering each upon the mosque's chamber floors.
Through the substitute windows and sky roofs could be seen the ascended one of the shadowed lands, its watchful protector, willingly or not.
The master of the winds, skies and torrents themselves, the Storm King. The monumental sky-ray had apparently appeared suddenly from somewhere below the cliff face the church sat upon, it's very appearance bothered nature itself, the clouds above rumbled and twirled with gust in fear of their lord.
Still like before, it was a monument to the complexity of life, an imposingly immense manta ray that swam not through water, but the air. The menagerie of follicles adorning its breast, a swathe of tinier manta spawn, still clung in adoration of their lord who provided them a warm home, and an indomitable guardian.
They wove themselves between goliath strands of clingy filaments and spreads of endless shiny, grey scales. Making perch from the vertically split chrome of the demon to the backside where that same spindly, rat-like tale wiggled and waved. And still did the stunning length of the creature's wings evoke within the adventurer's a sense of insignificance, their distance across covering at least a humble mile.
And as the Arch-Fiend wickedly flapped its monstrous wings, the dead trees dotting the plateau rocked under the immense pressure of wind the demon's flight gave way to, and seasoned rocks tightly stapled to the earth tore from their homes and were sent flying aimlessly. The withered temples and dormitories collapsed and disintegrated, having finally given way to time with the not so gentle aid of the continuously generated hurricane beget from the manta.
The beast called from above, cheerlessly, likely unwillingly, its mind eroded by the Old One to a point of no return. It did not revel in the job of Arch-Demon, nor did it wish death on the warrior's below, buts it mind was now driven by instinct like any other common beast of the wilds. It saw prey, those that would do harm to its kin, and its home, and it would stall their plans to the last breath.
"That'll do." Hiyori peeped unnervingly, eyeing away from the inescapable monstrosity for a brief instant to survey a plan of action in her surroundings, it didn't take long for one of perceived superior intellect. "Alright, Konata, and useless-in-a-fight captain of the guard, with me. Everyone else, distract that air…sea…monster, as long as ya can. Don't be afraid to you know, take a stab at killing it either." She directed with a leader's confidence, sending half of their party on their way out of the ramshackle church as Yui offered a most displeased glare.
As the newfound alliance set forth to fell the demon, a straggler loomed unsure of herself, Tsukasa had to make absolutely sure her friend's nerves were steeled.
"Kona-Chan…you…you will save her, right?" Tsukasa pessimistically probed, hearing the abysmal nature of her voice almost made her cringe, when did she lack such confidence in even her most trusted confidants?
"If I don't I'll have hell to pay when I meet her in the afterlife, won't I? And I really don't need any more bruises. Trust me, I'll do my best, now get going…Miyuki and the others will need you." Konata regarded the insecure tone of her voice, even with words so reassuring. She couldn't quite be sure of anything anymore, and promises made blindly would only lead to disappointment.
Tsukasa was easily subdued by the 'better than nothing' answer; any shred of hope would be enough to leave her content during these most hopeless of times. She begrudgingly turned her back on her friend, and her demonic sister, leaving both of their fates in the hand of their pint-sized leader.
A surprise clap from Hiyori replaced Konata back into the realm of action, where her Kagami was waiting for her.
"Alright, we subdue her, don't kill her. It's alright to injure her, even grievously; the soul from that beast in the sky will be more than enough to placate even the nastiest wounds." Despite the careful instructions, Hiyori couldn't help herself when she purposefully eyed the knight Yui. "Should be easy with you, since you apparently can't kill anything today. Not Kuroi, not that blind old demon, aren't you supposed to be some sort of warrior?" Acerbically she asked despite the ever playful tone, she certainly didn't want an accident at a time such as this.
"That blind monster back there just jumped me, I didn't see it coming!" Yui argued for her dignity's sake, unsheathing her pristine blade. "I'll show you that nobody that shares the blood of an Izumi is useless!" She swore, ushered with a haughty grin, and a set of brazen eyes that somewhat dutifully fell on her cousin, a hint of aplomb for one in need.
"Yui…" Konata thanked without openly saying so, only hoping the knight could see the acknowledgement of appreciation in her growing grin. "Glad you came, speaking of…what're you even doing here?" Realizing only now that her cousin's sudden appearance made less sense than she'd of liked, she thought it time to ask.
"Tell ya later, she needs you." Yui advised with a knightly authority, a charge her cousin took enthusiastically. Hiyori found herself swept up in their jubilation as well; she didn't doubt they could do this.
"Kagami!" Konata announced confidently, gaining the demon's attention as she kicked a random sword, likely that of a previous adventurer, littered upon the ground to her waiting hands. "I'm sorry, this is going to hurt, but I promise I'll do everything I can to make sure it doesn't last any longer than it has to." The bittersweet oath brought to her an unnatural vigor, despite her battered and weary body.
The ancient dust below her, molded together in lengthy fractures from a decade of misuse crunched appropriately beneath her feet, her purpose could not be stilled by the earth, nor the squeezing winds swept from the Storm King's wings, nor the seething delusion and fear in Kagami's eyes.
Konata nearly rocketed from her standby battle stance, hovering mid-air for a brief instant as her small legs took strides well beyond their means, and her speed reached its peak.
Her blade folded itself in the momentum, bringing with it a deadly crushing force as she curled it upward, ever higher past her head, and downwards once again, using her opponents distracted behavior to benefit her assault. It proved advantageous as planned, when the finer point of her sword swept into Kagami's shoulder, down her side, and out of the wound, leaving with it a mural of the girl's blood hidden beneath her shadow.
Yui's attack followed suite, puncturing through the child's measly armor with her sword and splitting it into her shoulder clear out of her back, rendering both arms useless as nerves, blood vessels and muscles were torn apart inside the girl's body.
Kagami did not scream in agony, the usual otherworldly wail of a Dregling was not heard either. Instead a curdling, pathetic squeak of pain as a jet stream of blood sprayed from her throat. However monstrous she may have been in mind, physically, her cheeks were still reddened by abundant tears, the pain was surely immense.
Yet the heart-breaking sight did not stall Konata, alternatively it seemed to bring about within her an air of doubtlessness, it seemed her friend was still closer to the human side than that of a demon, she wouldn't last forever under the fever of lacerations and bloody blisters.
However, demons were the epitome of strength, the perfect example of those who rise above their piers to survive in a battle of the fittest. To survive, a demon must adapt, and it must be able to do so utterly and without restraint, lest it be devoured by its brethren. As a demon now, Kagami was no different, and her body acted instinctively to the aggressors in her face, and violently.
Her now gnarled, and almost root-like hands snatched the throats of the cousins, lifting them in the air effortlessly and slamming their heads together forcefully, finishing the rattling attack by throwing both of the warriors abruptly downward into the dirt, leaving indentations of their forms within.
A follow-up attack was guaranteed, and Yui foresaw this, rolling her throbbing body onto that of her younger cousin's and shielding both of them with her enormous kite shield, rigorously holding onto the handle when she felt the pulverizing blows of the demon on its glossy surface.
Hiyori did not waste her reprieve, as she had just finished a malicious incantation written in her own blood on the ground below her, illustrated as a series of smaller circles within a larger circle, the full design almost resembled a smiling face. She dropped to her knees to get at level with the magical seal, and placed her hands on it before muttering a few necessary words, sneering when she saw the fresh blood begin to coagulate into a solid string before hardening.
The final product almost resembled a bo staff, or a spear without the tip, luckily a bladed edge would not be needed. She ushered for the seemingly mindful essence of bodily fluids and magic to bend to her will, and spearhead itself in Kagami's direction, which it did without warning.
The blood-staff approached its target with a velocity aimed to kill, but forthwith stalled its own progress as it reached mere inches, melting from its rigid body again into a sopping messy puddle, which slowly but surely slithered its way up the Dregling's ankles.
Yui took note of the mysterious magic and heaved her cousin under her arm, removing both of them from the immediate area as their enemy took the time to curiously inspect the weavings of blood like a child.
That same eager curiosity came back to bite her when the blood suddenly hardened again, squeezing itself painfully around the girl's ankles and holding her in place. She struggled to break free, or to take a step, but found she could not move from her now planted position, the blood had seeped even below her through the paved floor of the church, rooting her to the ground like a sapling. In fact, the normally copper liquid seemed to fade into a darker brown, and crack and age like the bark of an ageless tree.
"Perfect, that oughta hold her." Hiyori declared to her allies, noticing their slowly fading smiles as the snapping sound of branches and the tugging of earth could be heard. The mage watched with a furrowed brow as her hard work went to waste; she only had enough juice for one of those as well. "Or not…plan B."
Brushing past the curdling of identical shelves of cube dormitories, and into the narrow alley ways that webbed between their expansion, Tsukasa, and what remained of her escaping troupe sought the end of the stony hedge maze. At last they noticed a derelict passageway at the center of two abnormally large, vacant structures that seemed to lead to the cliff sides.
Passing through the detestable passage, and horrifically a multitude of dusty bones, the group reached the edge of the shadowed lands, a peaked climax of stone that led to the endless oceans themselves. Not twinkling under the daytime sun, the sea looked green and sickly, raging tempestuously against the conglomerate of crags and jutting stones that broke free from the depth of the low tide.
Above them circled their target, a very cranky Storm King, bellowing like a whale from the heavens above as it fluttered about in search of whatever devilish force it felt dripping with malice from below.
But perhaps the malice did not necessarily extend from their hands, for from her back, Tsukasa could've sworn she felt an ominous rustling of unnamed things; she turned to face nothing, and decided against chancing a second glance in favor of the spectacle of life before them.
"I don't think even Misao with her ability to defy gravity can jump that high." Kuroi downwardly, and rightly, said as she motioned towards her allies to take in the spectacle that was the Storm King, slowly but surely gliding overhead, singing its song of doom.
"We could call it ugly; maybe it'll take the bait?" Misao joked shamelessly, noticing that the more humble members of their troupe did not even smile at her comment, Carrot especially, seemed deeply troubled.
In her despair, the cleric Carrot stepped forward to make her will known. "The creature is in such pain…I can hear it crying out. Even if it must die…may I at least sanctify it before we do so? It seems almost evil to let such a wonder die like a demon." Her wishes fell on deaf ears; no response was given aside from a knowing glare from Misao, who wished only for the saint to discover the foolishness underlying her kind words.
"No." Sorely the drudge Misao miffed without any room for backtalk, but the priestess did not heed her words, instead only bowing her head in admiration of the great sky manta.
Amidst the chanting of Carrot's prayers, a stuttering, and distinctly frightened voice called in a series of mumblings from behind the group, and knowing full well who it was they turned to nurse another bloodless wound of the doughty Tsukasa.
However instead of coddling the girl in her grief, the cadre of warriors found themselves the victims of a despondent ache, at the site of the usually peaceful Tsukasa with an arm choked around her throat, shaking violently in fear at the assailants at her back. Tsukasa regretted not trusting her gut, which so rightly sensed imminent danger in the form of a duo of assailants, whom Miyuki instantly recognized.
"Yutaka? Minami?" She whispered, praying the crusaders were in a talking type of mood. "What are you…" The protest ended with complete rejection as the bruiser of the crusaders, Minami, tightened her grip around the younger Hiiragi's neck, her face still as stoic as ever even in such a heated moment.
"I don't want to hurt her, I dislike violence. Please, for m'lady's sake and for the sake of this girl…do not harm the Storm King. You know not what you do." The crusader of Umbasa, Minami, argued so flatly it came off as more of a statement of what would happen, and less of a wisely taken suggestion.
Misao was the first to press herself forward with her weapon pronged, her teeth gritting and eyes seethed with fury. "Maybe not, but I know damn well what'll happen to you if you don't let her go!" She commanded with a rage bordering on hysteric.
The display of aggression almost seemed too much for Minami's staunch companion, the sickly Yutaka shielded her eyes from the sight, her face contorted as though she were ready to throw up.
"Minami-Chan, at ease." Yutaka began, placing herself forward on a pedestal as to be the attractive prospect of the conversation, despite her enemy's companion's safety at risk. "Please, warriors of the Monumental. I urge you to listen to what I have to say, I pray that you will, because you must know the truth." Yutaka's urgings continued to the point of begging, in spite of her lapsed existence and terrible demonic powers, the offered glances of grief were decidedly human.
"Screw that!" Misao snarled back at the proposal despite their group's lack of a proper bargaining chip, but a cooler head amongst them silenced the drudge with a slap to the back of the head, a tightly stitched and leathered glove of Nanako Kuroi.
"Continue." Kuroi civilly interrupted, allowing the god-fearers to make known their intentions with properly behaved dispositions on both sides. The assassin figured there was no reason to draw blood if it wasn't needed; most disagreements are usually settled with a few choice words and a dash of grace.
"Thank you." Yutaka reciprocated the charm delightedly, motioning for her comrade to alleviate her fastened choke of the girl in her arms as to not harm her, only constrict her. "I see there are more of you this time, I was unaware the Monumental had such a…colorful array of servants at its disposal. As such, I feel introductions are again required. I am Yutaka Kobaykayawa, the sixth saint of Umbasa, the last of many disciples of the prickling rose. And this is my loyal servant, and greatest friend, Minami Iwasaki of the clan Garland." She formally reintroduced for the ignorant and the savvy, doing her best to turn away from the unnerving animosity stemming from her enemies of circumstance.
"Get on with it!" Misao hurled another hasty order the fidgeting priestess' way, who rather childishly gripped her taller protector's hand in slight fear at the booming voice. Even undead, and commanding a power well beyond natural warriors, Yutaka seemed to still hold a gentle innocence about her.
Beyond her anxiety the sixth saint steadied herself for another verbal assault, and even likelier a bladed one, this conversationalist proved to be much more impatient than the last. She wished that same child, Konata Izumi, was again speaking to her in a compassionate tone, regardless of her belief in the same heretical views as her missing father.
Impossible to ignore, she heard the girl with her paranormal ears, noisy and courageous slamming steel against dirt more than flesh, fighting a barely visible opponent in the distance along with several others within the collapsing remnants of a nearby crumbling church. They could be seen as thin specs through the patterned holes throughout the broken walls. Yutaka couldn't recognize the other three figures, only Izumi with her inconspicuously blue hair.
"That is Izumi, yes?" Yutaka questioned to the much more humble Kuroi this time instead of the slave, sighing with relief when Kuroi clapped a hand over Misao's mouth to prevent her from firing another missile of hatred.
"Aye." Kuroi answered cautiously, not wishing to divulge any more information than they had to, but from the saint's correct affirmation of her, it seems she already was aware of Konata's existence anyway.
Yutaka powerfully opened her mouth, seemingly to make a point requiring a stern voice, but it failed her. She seemed uncertain of what to say, but such indecisiveness was unbefitting of the last of her sect, and with Minami's hand warmly holding her own, she could have no insecurities.
"She is strong; she truly seems to believe she can destroy the Old One…" Yutaka almost whispered half in wonder, her defenses completely laid bare as her half-lidded eyes watched the Azure Knight at work, unflinching and placid even with her amateur sword work and hopelessly sunny disposition.
Miyuki's eyes followed the saint's to her companion, still struggling against the demonic Kagami, finally making her presence known as she pushed ahead of her allies. "And…how do know she cannot? You said the people of this world cry out for the Old One to remain, and that without it the world will be undone. What did you mean by this?" The magician Miyuki questioned confusedly, still haunted by the duo's words in their earlier encounter.
Yutaka again faltered, but quickly regained her composure, opting for a visual representation to aid her case. She bent down to the shifting dirt at her feet, sullying the cuffs of her pure white robes as she scooped a large clump of soil. She lifted the ancient patch of ground, holding it upwards to the sky to allow the few baby sprouts within to obtain some much needed nutrients.
"Life." Yutaka breathed peacefully, smiling almost hopefully at the sight of a skittish bug moving around within the soil.
Minami nodded at her master's words, running a finger thoughtfully against the leaf, allowing the clingy trail of sticky due along her armored finger to fall to the ground as she began to explain. "Life cannot exist without the proper sustenance. All things require this necessary force to live. Plants nurse from the mother Earth and sky themselves, animals feed on the flora and fauna, and sometimes even the usually docile plants reverse this role. All beings use this nourishment to breathe life into the cells of their very bodies, and even deeper lays an intricate network of life that provides its influence so that all things may exist. This planet is a monumental collection of life, feeding on one another, coexisting, cycling and replenishing and growing…and so it must learn to adapt to all foreign matter that invades this perfect balance, lest the entire chain be undone." Minami finished long-windedly and ambiguous in definition, no closer to revealing the truth than she was before they had begun, Misao noticed as expected.
"Meaning…" Yutaka interrupted, noticing the tiny shrub had begun to twitch disturbingly, being far better off growing within the dense atmosphere of the Old One's fog than the magnificent rays of the sun that barely skewed through the overcast. At this warning, she quickly tucked it back into its hole, beaming when it again controlled its temperament and began to feed. "The Old One is this foreign matter, for endless eons it has saturated the planet with its filth, weaving its hellish will into the very earth, into the air we breathe, and even we humans." Still mysterious were her words, but the implications they brought seemed to severely impact the souls she spoke to, their eyes were glued to her in fright.
Gravely, Minami's hardened battle stance seemed to melt at her master's words, the weight of them proved too much even for the stoic knight. "Despite what many myths claim, there was a time this world survived without the Old One's authority over its nature, but that period has long passed. The world has evolved; it can no longer sustain itself without the Old One's demonic influence. If the Old One dies, so does this planet…the plants will wither, the creatures will starve, the cells will die, and the chain will be undone." The knight of Garland, Minami, ended absolutely, and with her words it seemed she, this time, required the strength of another as she squeezed Yutaka's tiny hand in her suffering.
"Indeed." Yutaka began again, removing her hand from her knight's and extending it to her enemies. "Yet hope is not lost, the Old One can remain and lay dormant. This is why we crusaders of the rose exist, to keep the Old One alive, yet controlled. Each time the seal weakens under the beast's girth, we lay down a new seal and prevent its escape. Yet now you seek to destroy the Arch-Demons, the very seal we are sworn to protect. Should they heed death's call, so to shall this world, for the seal will be broken forever more." Yutaka's cautionary words seemed to foresee armageddon, and by her tone held nothing but truth in their fibers. "I beg of you, heed my words. Give up this quest; cease seeking to destroy the Arch-Demons, or the Old One. And allow my knight and I to carry the burden of this task." The priestess beseeched, as if she was speaking to the very god she worshipped. She had even gone so far as to lower herself in a groveling huddle to prove her sincerity.
As to why the crusaders had apparently been hunting them, their reasons were now known. Yet the awe in the eyes of the adventurer's did not bring about the anxiety the crusaders had hoped, contrarily it seemed to push them into an even greater wave of gallantry. Miyuki was the first to answer her enemy's exhortation.
"The Monumental has the power of foresight because it was once a human being, a mage." Aimlessly the deeply contemplative Takara seemed to whisper without reason. "I too, am a mage…my people also had the power to see the future. The Monumental had told us that for each and every time the Old One escaped that imprisonment was the only way to contain its wrath. Yet this time the future for it, was shrouded in shadow…because of Konata Izumi and her father." Miyuki revealed to not only her opponents, but to several severely confused onlookers in her troupe as well.
"What…?" Yutaka breathed as she stood, both her's and even Minami's barely expressive face melted to those of a mortal, taken aback by the thought of imminent doom, a feeling neither could have ever expected would befall them.
"That one is special, the Monumental surely believed so." Miyuki's hopeful idiom seemed to radiate to her allies, who's sorrow filled faces had vanished the moment she began her adverse spiel. "It has seen this same scenario play out since the dawn of time, and for the first time in history it has found an uncontrollable variable, Izumi-San." As she spoke of the one who defied destiny, her childhood companion, Yutaka seemed to watch the bluenette in the distance warmly. "If the Old One returns to slumber, the next time it breaks loose its total domination of this world will only increase…until the entire planet has died regardless. So your way is to slow this progress as much as possible, to delay the inevitable. And to me, to deny mankind a chance to at least try to stop it is a most heinous crime, especially if we have a wild card, Izumi-San." Miyuki's strong words and firmer stance on the matter gave the crusaders their response, or at least that of the mage.
"Do all of you feel this way?" Yutaka questioned, this time far more desperately, she didn't like where the conversation was headed, towards a duel with swords and magic, not words.
Konata's companions at first stood silent in contemplation, considering how feasible their quest really was. The Old One was immortal, and all who quested to destroy it ended up dead, or failed their journey entirely. In the times the Old One was bested, its life could still not be claimed, only contained with a slowed passage of time for the Old One to endlessly rot within, a cage in another dimension entirely. And even then, still it would eventually break free to ravage the Earth yet again; it could not die, and could never be forever imprisoned, only for brief stints. It was truly an undefeatable horror in every sense of the concept.
In the calm, Kuroi, though slightly regrettably, was the first to respond. Her proclamation came as no surprise to her; it required very little process to come to her destined conclusion.
"I have a contract, one that prevents me from using maxim's like 'I feel such and such a way' or 'this is what I believe'. And so I respond in a business fashion, regardless of what I believe, my employer has made it clear to me that I am to assist Izumi in any manner possible, I stand with her." Kuroi suffered out her words somewhat hesitantly, it seemed to be an accord she didn't speak lightly about.
Misao noticed the strain in her ally's voice; her own chest began to beat with dejection at the thought of their mutual overlord, the masked witch. However unlike Kuroi, Misao had long since stopped fearing her master, and so answered with a passion all her own.
"While I share a similar fate, bound to a contract, I make my will my own regardless of this. You allow Izumi to live, you hand over Tsukasa, you drop dead, and our quest continues. And I'd be really appreciative if it all took place in that order." The slave's behest was bold, considering to whom she was speaking, but the crusaders did not budge their resolves much to the Misao's dismay.
"Aye." Carrot spoke up, having been complacent until now, but she felt herself spurred by the mysterious warrior's words. "My own ambitions dictate that by Umbasa's will, the Old One must perish. I am not allied with these strangers, yet they saved my life. I owe them much, and as such, stand with them." Her hidden agenda made her voice powerful, and her fear was swept away by its might. The crusaders would not stand in her way, regardless of their role in Umbasa's design.
Carrot had noticed their markings, that of her goddess, but she felt no kinship to them spiritually. Their goals conflicted, and even if Umbasa's guidance led them both along the path of virtue, this did not necessarily mean they should have similar goals in mind, or a need to be allied in them.
Yutaka quivered with hurt, it pained her to see these noble souls throw their lives away for a mission so beyond their understanding, it was foolish. They could not comprehend the Old One's divine will, its magnificence, its horrid brilliance, not as she did. Not as she had come to know the beast for over a decade as it hummed its pitiable words in her head, endlessly, the loop drove her to madness. She was both frightened, and illuminated with love by these hushed words.
"You could never begin to understand." Yutaka began mournfully, wiping a tear from her eye as she slowly began to break down, and as her body gave way, she fell to her knees as her heart became ripe with despair. "The Old One isn't a demon, the Old One cannot be destroyed and it cannot be sealed away forever. This world will die…I cannot allow this to happen…I would do anything to—" A phlegm-filled cough silenced her, and Minami could only watch painfully, she could not drop her guard even to help her sickened companion, lest she be attacked, or Tsukasa escape her choke.
"You guys…" Tsukasa suddenly spoke up from Minami's hold, her voice stilled and brave despite her usual persona, and the circumstance. "Maybe…maybe we—" The young Hiiragi seemed muddled by her own hesitation, her words did not betray her thoughts and yet she could not retrieve the strength necessary to say them. It pained her to believe what was perceived as the wrong path, but she did nonetheless.
She blessed the intrepid arrow that interrupted her, the one that dared to lodge itself within the presence of the undead crusaders. Along with the launched projectile came its master, Dragon God's blade in hand, and bow in the other.
The intruder leapt from seemingly from one of the many temple roofs at their backs, perhaps watching and waiting the entire time for the most opportune time to make her presence known. Her stannic boots rang with a forceful clunk, and the cloak around her neck whipped near and far with noisy cracks from the constraining elements of the gust storm. Her usually thoroughly fluffy mop of a head looked far rougher and knurled than usual, wind-swept and bedraggled from many hours of adventure.
Only enumerating to her manic appearance was her darkened, irritated eyes, which seemed to be peeled open from sheer willpower alone, she was definitely on her last limb. Against her debility she was still able to develop a highly adroit and polished collection of twirls and ambidextrous tosses of the hulking blade, showcasing her skillful prowess with it she had obtained in her brief ownership of it.
At the climax of her routine, she erected the slab of rock to the day-ridden, but otherwise cloudy and dark skies, and marked her special star no doubt as expressively glinting as ever behind the compass of blues and grey smearing themselves disgracefully over its brilliance.
"Patricia Martin, soon to be famed slayer of the Dragon God at last makes her appearance! She will finally have revenge for Yoshimizu's annihilation! The perpetrators, Minami and Yutaka, and their vassal, Miyuki! How do you plead?" Patricia extravagantly acted out her heroic speech, even taking into account the seriousness of the crimes and accusations. While her aura and speech held no malice, the hate could be felt coated upon every word. She had come for blood and she would not leave without it.
Yutaka and Minami did not respond, perhaps knowing regardless of their answer the sentencing would remain termination.
Miyuki, however, was far more determined to make her accountability for the massacre of Yoshimizu out to be a gross misunderstanding, as per her late master revealing her role to be that of an unwitting pawn, unfortunately for her this was harshly divergent of Patricia's wishes.
"Not guilty!" Miyuki cried out, hoping for her freedom from Patricia's imposed malefaction, but knew all too well of the nature of humans. Even if Miyuki wasn't at fault, she by design was a creature far beyond a normal human's understanding, a mage, a curious thing and therefore something to be feared for lack of a better understanding. Blaming was after all, simply a coping mechanism, in this way Miyuki somewhat found herself condoling Patricia's behavior, a prospect that frightened her.
"You have no right! Decreed guilty by the sword of the Dragon God!" The archer admonished decisively, foregoing the trial in favor of a hasty execution.
She discarded her bow frantically in favor of the goliath blade, and charged the duo of crusaders without warning, seemingly ignoring the fact that Tsukasa would be directly in her line of fire. The blade's girth provided ample time for the crusaders to escape, but the circulation of dust it accumulated during its arc made the blade seem like a veritable smokescreen crafter.
Under the blinding dirt storm, Kuroi reacted with lightning efficiency, catapulting from her hardened stance and cleanly passing each opponent within the chaos, cleanly to her target, Tsukasa Hiiragi.
A well enacted cartwheel gave her oncoming kick enough momentum to spring the deadlier of the crusaders, Minami, roughly from her hold on Tsukasa and tumbling unseen into the cloud of dust. All in one action, as her body contorted to its original state, her arms caught the feathery Hiiragi, who gently plopped into the cradle of her arms. With the child in her care, she leapt back into action, returning herself to her side of the battlefield.
"We go, now!" Kuroi ordered, denouncing any challenge on the matter with her ferocity. The others complacently followed her lead, retreating from the sandstorm until the wrath of the Dragon God butted its stony blade within their path; Patricia desperately clung to its hilt.
"Did you even hear me? I didn't recite that lion-hearted monologue so you'd run off! You're guilty; just accept what's coming to you!" Patricia whined in a huff, not aware that now was surely not the time to be stalling her previous ally's intentions for any reason.
"Then take it out on me! I'm the guilty one, not them!" Miyuki begged for her favor, the reward was a shot at her life; Patricia didn't need a better offer than that.
The once proud archer, now fueled by revenge, lifted her blade to allow Kuroi and the others to pass. The assassin looked back to Miyuki in confirmation of her decision, and respectfully she nodded to her as the group made their escape along the crest of the cliffs edge ever towards the looming Storm King, leaving the sorceress behind to confront these apparitions of her guilt.
Just as quickly as Patty receded her sword, she again hurled it within the path of the mage, barring her escape. Miyuki did not run, she stood willfully, prepared to do anything to repair the damage she had caused, even if she was forced to live her entire life in remorse of her decisions.
Unfortunately for her, she felt the presence of the crusaders behind her, their arms bared, and their goal to destroy all those that would impede their plan of salvation, of preservation. Miyuki anointed her palms with simmering flame, pointing one in each direction of her opponents; the trio of assailants did the same. The deadlock of warriors stood for a moment, assessing the style of their opponents before each of them charged, and a barrage of steel, fire, and magically infused blasts of energy were rocketed and jutted in every direction in a three way battle.
Miyuki, being in the center of the conflict, was the first to feel its wrath in the form of Patricia's sword nearly taking off her head, and instead collapsing upon Minami's gnarled and enchanted maul, sparking a rainfall of sparks above her head which she quickly avoided.
Her dodge came with an infliction of murderous gazes, pointed in both her, and the other's direction. Patricia and Minami ended their stalemate by bunny hopping to safety, leaving Miyuki to corral what little strength she had left to put an end to this pointless violence.
"I warn you all, this is not the path we seek! It will lead us only to pain, we can resolve this without bloodshed, I know we can!" Miyuki's pleading was derided by a scoffing Patricia, who responded with a boorish cackle.
"A little late for that, what with my entire people's blood shed across the entirety of Yoshimizu valley." Patty mocked back at the grieving sorceress' attempt at empathy, for she had no desire for mediation in their quarrel, nor a craving to forego her thirst for revenge. As irrational the state her mind currently found itself within, Patricia realized this all too well, delighting in the bittersweet feeling her hatred provided. Revenge wouldn't return cherished memories; it wouldn't bring back the dead or erase the catastrophes of the past, and for many who followed the path of retribution, closure could never be achieved regardless of the outcome. But she had to admit, it certainly made her feel better.
"The Dragon God's blood too, has been spilt, and you and yours have shown no desire to give up your campaign against the remaining Arch-Demons. M'lady and I will continue our mission, our paths are set." Minami dismally rehashed the archer's words, her delivery of the stance queuing Miyuki that both she and Yutaka were past the point of grasping futilely for a neutral solution.
"Before this fight begins." Yutaka added, folding her hands into the sign of Umbasa, a closed fist curling around the thumb representing a bushel of thorns adorning a rose. "I'd like to pray, not for Umbasa, but for us. We are scarred souls whom have so unfairly been forced to battle one another, it's reprehensible. I would be honored if you would join me in this séance." The priestess of Umbasa offered tranquilly and as far as her opponents could tell, sincerely. Forgoing the idea that the other party's might be eschew to the idea, the sixth saint slumped herself credulously upon the ground, holding out her hands to each opponent to join her in pre-carnage exultation.
"Y-You're joking…" Patricia sheepishly asked, praying her opponents surely couldn't be as pacifistic as they seemed. Lamentably for her, and her revenge, this seemed to be the case. "You're makin' it pretty hard to want to kill you anymore actin' all candied like this." Discordantly the archer's tone was a puzzling mixture of agreement and disagreement. It almost felt wrong to even engage in the conversation considering she had already decided nothing would change her mind about her long-awaited vengeance, but something within her wouldn't allow her decline of the soft-spoken cleric and her most humble of invitations.
Against her better judgment and somehow antipodal of her body's wishes, she allowed herself to be tempted and ensnared into the circle of peace, a decision she would no doubt regret posthumously.
Miyuki too, felt a mystifying urge to set aside her battle spirit and give in to the refreshing atmosphere of concord, which she began to realize all too late that there was a more malicious forecast than it initially appeared to be. Her body trembled with an unseen restrictive magic, she could tell this much, and the impalpable coercion brought both her and Patricia to their knees before the priestess in a most disreputable bow of submission.
"W-What did you…my body…" Miyuki managed to grit out despite her jaws being clenched together by the magic, animatedly attempting to keep her head afloat so as to maintain eye contact with the seemingly meek and unassuming priestess.
"Oh my…Minami-Chan, I did it, I actually did it!" Yutaka bellowed with joy, juvenilely bouncing over to her companion with a girlish giggle. "I-I didn't think I could, it was a straining spell." She revealed, brushing away the sweat bred from the exertion her underhanded endeavor required.
"It was very tricky of you, M'lady. I am both jubilant and horrified by your actions; it is a most confusing feeling." Her knight, Minami both praised and criticized of her lady's chicanery. The deception may have brought woe to her victims, but the two usually serene crusaders lionized their glory in a manner synonymous with a certain blue-haired menace.
Miyuki and Patricia met gazes with heavy chagrin, both completely flabbergasted that of all people, the immaculate, or at least conveyed to them, priestess Yutaka was even capable of such devious tactics. Whatever she had done, it had immobilized them, and kowtowed them before the saint humiliatingly. It was at times like these that in their shame, both Miyuki and Patricia were faintly glad most of their peers were long since departed.
"Magic, huh…?" Patricia inquired from her enemy, yet ally in misery, Miyuki. The sorceress only downwardly chuckled at their misfortune; all she could do was force optimism in the hopeless situation. "How dastardly! I mean, I was plotting to murder you all but I sure didn't expect a low blow like this…what ever happened to violence on fair terms?" Patty again moaned in frustration, feeling the very honor she held dearly drip from her frame.
Ending their gaiety, the campaigners for the dead god Umbasa stood over their powerless prey at first glance with the intention of mocking them, but unexpectedly the sixth saint Yutaka surprised them yet again, with a compassionate hug. She cradled their frozen heads in her arms, one in each, and shut her eyes as she soothingly stroked their locks.
"You brave souls. The crimes I have committed against you are inconceivable, their impacts on you irrevocable. To apologize would only degrade the grandeur of my sins, and make myself out to be wholly shameless." The curate of the rose, Yutaka, spoke solemnly, her dolor resonated within her captives deeply, she spoke as if she endured constant suffering.
"M'lady…" Minami respired heavily, reaching for her master's shoulders to elevate her from her stunted position. To alleviate whatever pain she could, the knight of Garland turned her away from the broken children beneath them, and directed her attention at the still escaping warriors in the distance, preparing an attack on the king of storms. The two wasted no time in beginning a steady walk towards them before being halted by the archer.
"H-Hey! Hey wait, wait damn it! I said wait!" Patricia squealed in irritation, having trouble believing her targets would be so honorable as to turn their backs to her, and spare her life when she offered them no such kindnesses. "Get back here! Get back her and impale yourselves on this sword! Raaaaagh!" She frothed once more with rage, struggling in vain against the might of the priestess' magic to escape its bindings and retaliate for the sake of her lost people.
"Patricia Martin, I swear to you that when the peace we strive for has yet again been attained…I will give you my life." Yutaka swore to the lone survivor of Yoshimizu in a pact of blood, an oath of retribution and perhaps even mercy. With her promise made, the crusaders purposefully charged after the rest of Konata's troupe, bent on stopping them from attacking the Arch-Demon.
Patricia suspended her rampage of insults and moaning at the cleric's pledge, she could scarcely believe one of perceived evil would ever owe up to their actions, or attempt to make amends. In fact, it only seemed to anger her more, again Yutaka was the better woman, again her enemy showed a respect for life and for her own adversary's well being that made the adventurer's own behavior seem callow, and absurdly childish.
How arbitrary it was that the beings she loathed more than any other in the wide world were saints, champions of virtue and kindness the likes of which all common men strived to be. It seemed unfair that her antipathy was concentrated on these souls, bound together by love and crusading for peace.
"This must be what defeat tastes like…how bitter." Patty whined, abandoning her tugging at the invisible yet not at all imperceptible bindings.
"If it makes you feel any better this is certainly humiliating to one of your greatest enemies." Miyuki joked about her own predicament, hoping to abate any meager of fraction of animosity she could.
Patricia growled contemptuously, giving the sorceress a pugnacious fish-eye. "Greatest enemy my foot! My body might be frozen like a block of ice but I could still spit on you until you die, don't underestimate me!"Haughtily she proclaimed, trying her best to inflate her slowly collapsing ego before it lost its buoyancy entirely.
The goal was within reach, yet unobtainable. The Storm King hovered nonchalantly above them, its immeasurable span encompassing the entirety of the Monumental's warriors' vision. The pinkish splotches of squishy, underbelly skin gyrated and wiggled like rubber in excitement at the demon's foes' close proximity, a shake formed from the battalion of lesser mantas cawing and fiddling nervously on the Arch-Fiend's body, their home.
A leap to the creature was impossible, it soared nearly a hundred feet above them, and failure in planting atop their target would result in a departure to the after-life, a trip to the ravenous fury of the ocean waters below.
And despite the crack of lightning, and windswept ocean waves, Misao startlingly heard the clunking clank of steel-tipped, armored boots behind their mass, likely belonging to that of the heftier of the crusaders.
"They're coming; I hope one of you has wings." Misao hurriedly advocated as she became aware of the approaching Yutaka and Minami, moping when she noticed the assassin Kuroi seemed to be the only one with a non-discordant smile.
"Better." The liquidator assured, reaching into one of her many holsters and removing a lustrous, and frighteningly expensive looking tool. "I present to you the latest in engineering and tax-payers money, a hook-shot." She presented impudently, pointing the nozzle of the gun-shaped apparatus to the underbelly of the Storm King and clenching the spring-loaded trigger.
A thick and sharpened hook bound to a rope of ridiculous length briskly jettisoned from the machine, gliding at inhuman speeds across a vast distance of empty space over the sea before it met its target, slamming into the pink belly of the goliath and securing their route to the creature.
"You're so joking." Misao hoped out loud, rubbing her eyes tiredly when she realized it was no laughing matter, watching Kuroi carelessly leapt from the cliff-side, hook-shot in hand, swinging like an ape from a vine high above the raging oceans waves below.
Spurring herself with the momentum, in the distance Kuroi at first seemed disorientated, but quickly regained her assassin's composure as she secured herself steadfastly to the iron grip of the hook-shot's rope, pulling herself up the vine with little trouble. Making a half-moon swing, Kuroi, clinging madly to the rope began to appear closer, apparently using her speed as an impetus force to propel herself closer to the cliffs. Her hand appeared outstretched, and unfortunately, there wasn't a soul amongst their rank who didn't infer the meaning of the gesture.
"She's not. Alright! Let's get this over with; the devil's waiting with bells on his toes for me anyway!" The slave Misao hollered dutifully, leaping from the altitudinous perch of the cliff and narrowly being caught by the still-swinging assassin. Using Kuroi's steady hand and arm as leverage, she dexterously yanked her body upward, and linked her legs around Kuroi's waist, using the woman's larger girth as a hold for her legs while her shaky hands grasped the burning rope.
The comrades of the masked witch swung several loops around the empty space above the sea before they reached the end of their circulation around it, slowly approaching the cliff one final time with outstretched hands, preparing to catch their far daintier allies when they tried their hand at jumping the gap.
Carrot minded the bestial, and likely for the two eminently habituated, way that they were able to perform such physical feats. "O-Oh my…they can't be…I-I'm not very physically conditioned for this type of…oh…no…" Worriedly she muttered to herself, knowing full well her talents in the somatic realm were few, there was simply no way she could manage a jump like that. Even approaching the cliff, the results of their circulation would still place them at least a dozen feet away at best; it simply didn't seem possible for a human to mind such a gap.
Tsukasa however, still somewhat estranged from the situation from her earlier disturbing thoughts of uncertainty, found herself more galvanized than ever before. "I-I'm not very strong…" The younger Hiiragi began bravely. "And I'm not entirely the brightest either. B-But there comes a time in everyone's lives when it boils down to do or…d-die, and only those with the strength to rise above the rest are left standing. We need to be strong, Carrot-Chan!" Unexpectedly Tsukasa explained with wisdom far beyond her average rationality.
In spite of the spurring intrepidity, Tsukasa Hiiragi had much growing to do. Her usual overwrought attitude had split into elation almost exclusively, she could feel the change down to her bones and the warmth it brought was simply exquisite. And while the palpability of her persevering metamorphose did bring her the excitement she yearned for, she had to be certain of her next step.
And what a literal step it was, the cliff-side had to be at least a kilometer's drop, and if the sea didn't crush her body from the fall, she'd be impaled on any of the numerous rocks. The sea was cruel, as they say, and while it wasn't her first time seeing the ocean, she couldn't help but be taken aback by how endless it seemed. It fit rather well with how she felt inside at that moment, if she had to be honest, immeasurable room for growth, growth like the globe spanning oceans.
Taking a step off of the cliff before her would be a decision she wouldn't have the opportunity to reminisce about, it was, after all, a decision not made lightly concerning your future paths. Yutaka and Minami's words beat within her distressingly, they haunted her. She would have to be sure this was the course she was meant to take, and to forge the road ahead she would have to be predisposed, and strong.
Her left foot dangled off the drop with a jerking twitch, and the weight of her body headed the rest of the journey for her. Eyes clenched shut boldly, confidently believing she would soon feel the warmth of one of her allies hands hoisting her to moderate safety upon the dangling hook-shot's rope.
Though her descent lasted mere seconds, the thunderous wind that deafened her and the twisted knots within her stomach made it seem amaranthine, but well worth the anxiety when her impatience paid off, with the pressure of falling being replaced with a ridiculing laughter, and a sweaty hand entwined within her own.
Tsukasa exposed herself to the world at the sensation, gasping with assuagement and dithered with alarm as her sight fell upon the fanged spear-woman, Misao, her powerful hand the only lifeline between her and a hairy fall to the sea below.
"Little Hiiragi, I half expected your broken body to make friends with the ocean!" Misao teased morbidly; glad she hadn't crossed the line too much when she saw a sniveling, but otherwise exultantly beaming Tsukasa.
"I…I knew you'd catch me. I-I wasn't scared." Tsukasa dribbled out in response amidst a powerful sniff of her nose. Despite her bravery, she surely did have a lot of growing to do.
"Oh Umbasa give me the strength I need to…jump to my death, most likely." Carrot entreated, swinging her body in preparation of either dashing her body against the crags of sharpened rocks and compact waters below, or being caught by her timely allies. But their circulation around the gap would be at that point, subsequent of her life's end, for her death was surely near at the hands of the crusaders.
"Daughter of sin, sovereign Ayano." A familiar intonation with ample venom called to her from behind, those zealots of peace, her allies' enemies, who had ostensibly held the knowledge of her true identity. "The wind current combined with your…inordinate choice of dress will not allow for easy passage across the gap." The lankier of the two, Minami, warned cuttingly, but less for the girl's own good and more to alert her to the threat of the gargantuan maul pointed to her backside. And it was true, extravagant ballroom gowns of the finest silk and feathery frills certainly weren't the most flexible clothing to be practicing draining physical feats in.
Carrot, or perhaps at this moment, Ayano, turned to face the radicals curiously, less intimidated by the bruiser's weapon to her stomach and more intrigued about scrutinizing their knowledge of her identity and the peculiar autonym they attached to it.
"You know me?" Ayano inquired timorously, assuming her pseudonym's duplicitous potency may not be as solid as she had hoped.
Heavyhearted, and with a swathe of regret despite her aura of relative pacifism, Yutaka ordered her adherent of the rose to lower her guard."It is hard to mistake the offspring of the world's greatest autocrat, and Boletaria's most notorious criminal." Yutaka both noted, and accused, extolling the celebrity's venal ways.
Ayano tensed her body in disgrace, virtuously holding the crusaders gaze without fright. "I know of my family's crimes, and my reasons for concealing them are my own. Do not worry; I will make amends for my father's wrong-doings." The cleric affirmed dauntlessly, remarkably getting an approving smirk for her bold declaration.
"Yes, I feel you shall." Yutaka spoke encouragingly, pressing past the cleric in white and scouting the belligerents scaling the vacillating rope dripping from the belly of the Arch-Demon. "Regrettably, it always seems to be the duty of the child to mend the wounds engendered by their forebear." Movingly the priestess whispered with some degree of comprehension, perhaps the granted mercy she offered her opponent was by some measure of kindred disposition.
"Now please." Minami began pleadingly. "For M'lady's sake, do not stand against us in our battle against the Monumental's servants." She implored benevolently, allowing the clergy-woman to live as long as she did not impede their progress. Minami was fast approaching her approved caliber of frivolous barbarism she was willing to expose her lady to, she had no wish to engage in combat with anyone not immediately stalling progress. Regardless if such an individual may encumber their path later on, for the time being, Ayano was not their enemy.
"I..I-I…oh gods, I cannot allow you to do that." Unless of course Ayano stood inflexibly on the matter, thrusting herself in the path of the crusaders and barring their advance, awarding the pair a proper reason to impart maltreatment.
"This is unwise; you do not look to be a warrior by any criterion I have ever known." The knight of Garland, Minami, warned, scantily optimistic about the chaplain's chances should she engage them.
"Perhaps not, but…" Ayano equivocated, browsing the landscape for an instrument cogent enough to stand egalitarian to the crusaders. Then she saw them, the mysterious archer and her short-bout companion Miyuki, seemingly debilitated but not properly indisposed. "Umbasa, give me strength!" She supplicated for aid, crashing through the duo of the rose and jolting assiduously towards the fallen warriors.
"Retreating?" Minami questioned to her lady as she watched Ayano fade into the collection of dormitories along the cliff, Yutaka only wryly grimaced in response. It would be bad enough if they had to contend with the three warriors attempting to scale onto the sky ray, double trouble wasn't exactly something that rendered them ebullient.
Yet the Storm King could not be left unattended, and while it filled Minami with worry to leave her lady neglected, the diverging morass of events forced her entrustment of the priestess.
Yutaka embosomed herself to Minami's taller frame, sentimentally constructing a bond of invulnerable faith. Though they be apart, no matter the length, their fidelity in their love would reunite them under any circumstance.
They broke apart regrettably, each pursuing a different squad of opponents. Minami ran after the priestess Ayano, concealing her identity under the false name Carrot. And Yutaka would give chase to the servants of the Monumental scaling the rope clinging to their targets belly.
The sixth saint vociferated to her confreres of soul devouring demons patrolling the ashy temples, to regard her voice's deference and ferry her whims. Her body radiated with magical energy, a beacon to those who would heed her needy call, brothers and sisters of the damned, who from a distance, could be heard screeching and whistling at the command of a greater demonic soul.
"Assist me in destroying them, brethren." The unholy being Yutaka requisitioned, gleefully observing the flock of diseased ray-spawn that heeded her call, perching themselves on the bluff at her feet and bending their necks to her. Devotedly she stroked their glossy backsides, she could not be disparaging to her iniquitous slaves even mindful of their hellish origins.
Others too found themselves drawn by her command, fiends of incorporeal gas and skeletons raised from the dead. They clawed their way upward from shallow graves beneath her feet, and slunk slimily from the shadows amongst the alley-ways surrounding the shadowed temples goliath church. Perhaps they had been there the entire time, despite not intruding upon the many lives intruding within their homes; perhaps they did so out of fear.
As they approached, the shadow-men and boney minions mounted themselves upon their steeds, the manta-spawn, and their governor did so conjointly, seating herself upon the affectionate demon that nuzzled its snout to her breast.
The battalion of demons and their master rode into the skies forthwith, quickly bridging the short gap between themselves and the Monumental's servants, encircling themselves around the rope the warriors clung to, firing arrows from cracked, weathered bows and tempests of magical missiles fired from the hands and gelatin limbs of Yutaka and the shadow-men. She would not allow them to escape, the fireballs ravenously shot from her palms confirmed her conviction, the Monumental's servants grave would be the sea.
"Kuroi, climb faster!" Misao castigated, her rage creating a momentum in their rope frightening enough that it could easily fashion a myriad of squeaky gasps from Tsukasa. Misao did so dually within her anger, and to avoid the hailstorm of projectiles flung their way from the cadre of demons circling about their rope like vultures.
"W-What about Carrot!?" Tsukasa hollered over the deafening winds, noticing Misao's hesitance to answer.
"They won't kill her, trust me. She'll be fine!" Misao assured, and not without reason, she couldn't help but notice a rather blaringly orange spec of life moving in the distance along the cliff-side, it could be no one but the cleric. Besides, with the assailants surrounding their person, another adding weight to their life-line would be far too dangerous.
Yet the danger now was far more precedent, and compensating the intruders for their generous amount of violence, Misao thrust her spear outward with her free hand, piercing it through an approaching sky-manta. The damage wrenched its insides as she yanked the pronged weapon from its stab, amusedly beholding the manta as it fell wounded to its death to the sea below, along with its an unfortunate rider, a jittery skeleton that seemed to curse her name as it vanished below the drape of blue.
Finally Kuroi was able to respond as she broke away from her disorientation, suddenly lax in fear of demons, more in irrelevant nonsense."I'm trying but every time I slink upward I feel like the contours of my butt choke in these leather pants, I haven't gained weight have I!?" Kuroi whined out disconsolately, rubbing her posterior in trepidation, scarcely aware of the mass of arrows and fire lobbed in their direction.
Making note of Kuroi's irrelevant babbling, Misao figured by this logic of incongruity surely the assassin wouldn't mind if she used the very weight she complained about as a battering ram. Bolstering her clamp over Tsukasa's hand and her thighs wrangled about Kuroi's hips, Misao heaved and bucked backwards, flowing with the wind and not pushing against it, fashioning the threesome into a bona fide siege weapon. The force crushed their bodies against another of the more contiguous manta-rays and drove the passenger from their saddle, again, to a watery grave.
As they came to a halt from their latest consternating swing, Tsukasa couldn't help but fret with worry as she felt her weakening grasp, it wouldn't be long before the chaos around them forced her from her lifeline and she joined the plunging demon brood.
"I'm so tired of this!" Tsukasa yowled in dismay, surmounting her cowardice and tactlessly climbing over her companions bodies upward and beyond in a frenzy, wishing only to be free of her groundlessness.
"Golly." The slave muttered confoundedly as she watched Tsukasa climb the rope higher and higher in awe. "Thusly, did Kuroi henceforth get her crap in gear and climb faster!" Misao testily dictated, crushing her head underneath her ally's behind and forcibly impelling the assassin to keep assurgent.
And steadily climb they most definitely had to, for the hastily crafted arrows of the skeletons, and the magical bolts wrought from Yutaka and the shadow-men's fingers, ripped and burned the rope bit by bit, forcing the trio ascending it to scale with all their might, lest they be made into torched pincushions of suffer a not so endless fall.
Despite the markswoman's shot being centered around the edge of the fleshy stomach of the Arch-Fiend, during their ascent more and more had the deeply imbedded hook apparently dragged around inwardly, placing its location closer to that of the creature's crested sides, giving the climbers a far easier method with which to climb atop the Arch-Demon.
Queerly they arrived at the apex of the hook-shot's blade without a scratch, leaping to the bounteous amounts of breathing room that was the Storm King's back when they did so. Kuroi cringed as she turned to reach for the device, watching as it finally tore from its diluted holding and toppled to the ocean below.
"That machine's value matched the wealth of several small kingdoms…" She moaned at the misfortune of seeing such immense wealth lost to unforeseen variables such as this, who'd of thought the dainty priestess Yutaka would actually grow a spine?
"This is…unreal." Tsukasa gasped nihilistically, at last taking in the enormity of her goal, the wish to destroy the Old One, a road that would require pain nonpareil, deaths innumerable and pandemonium omnipresent.
The hide of the Storm King in its immenseness, shown an ecosystem of biology, both plants and creatures big and small seemed to flourish upon the girth of the arch-demon. Trees grown with age that multiplied into endless forests, drinking from springs, ponds and rivers flourishing from wells of water unseen, perhaps from the very core of the demon they sat upon. Animals in the prime of growth fed on both verdure, and one another, and above them the blanketed skies were layered with another integument, the peaks of the green forests rooted into the demon's back.
Somehow, even small, hilly mountains rose above the trees like pimples on the Storm King's skin, snow-capped and high-reaching, propelling the ascent of the god of the skies even further into the beyond. It seemed that regular weather patterns seemed to accommodate these tiny mountains and beyond, crafty, blinding whips of snowstorms could be seen cradled through the winds. Rain could be even be seen bathing a far-off sprawl of the forest, while the area they stood upon remained dry, basking in the warmth of the hidden sun.
Even the children of the Storm King, the mantas, peacefully glided amongst the trees, breathing in the union of nature around them. It seemed the demons only shown their aggressive colors when their progenitor, their mother, their lord and their world was met with a disruptive variable.
Despite herself with awe, Tsukasa approached a nearby waterfall that seemed to pour from a cliff-side staggering above her, a small alcove and oasis seemed to be present at the base, exotic species of fish could be found within. Animal life seemed to skitter all around this wellspring, a bevy of hungry birds cawed above them to pick at the numerous fruit littered amongst the branches of the many trees, and a slithering snake stealthily moved below them, spying prey in an unwitting mouse. A gallant crush of a fuzzy bear's paw whacking at a nearby stream trickled from behind, and the sway of the trees ushered in a chorus of whistling pitches and rackets that could only be matched by the orchestra of cicadas and crickets.
And the flowers, illimitable, for every patch of grass there had to be at least a dozen flowers, containing myriads of colors and shapes, perhaps they were exotic to the back-sided oasis alone. Somewhere it seemed, the flowers Miyuki had spoken of still bloomed within the forgotten shadow temples, displaced but not gone.
Among the foliage stood testaments to mankind's will towards such abominations, arrows and swords, even corpses seemed to litter here and there, behind a tree or half-covered by a rock. Their bodies, and weapons, antiquated in their use as lifeblood for the macrocosm around them, were the only blemish in this wonderland of unanimity rested upon a demon's back. They were hidden otherwise, beneath the overgrowth of bushes and moss that devoured their ancient bodies.
Such bastions of harmony were rare in the wilds, but to be found atop the back of a demon, to find endless forests, sweeping mountains, untamed wilderness barely touched by the growth of mankind was unthinkable. Just how did these creatures survive? How did these plants grow? Where did the arcing rainbows extending overhead of the massive forest find the light necessary to reflect from? For there was nary to be seen even a single ray of the sun.
Truly, virginal order such as this was the last thing any of them expected to find here, in Boletaria, land of dastardly demons and totalitarian monarchs, it took only this dash of greens and lively essence to oppress any reservations the younger Hiiragi twin had any longer.
"Misa-Chan, Sensei…I…I don't think we should do this." Tsukasa disclosed her secretive thoughts to them, hoping that by perhaps seeing the cost of peace firsthand redacted the need for consultation.
Wontedly did Misao offer her chastising assessment. "A joke, yes? It had to have been, for I surely didn't hear apprehension here, at the point of no return." She whined in frustration, growing choleric when Tsukasa couldn't so much as meet her intimidating gaze.
"Kusakabe's right, kid." Kuroi agreed facilely. "I mean, we're here, yeah? On the back of the Arch-Demon, let's just do the job and quit worrying about the details. In all honesty I bet these cutesy woodland creatures are the byproduct of some incorrigible demon anyway." She expostulated in a manner far more agreeable by tone alone, but it still wasn't the answer Tsukasa had hoped for.
Tsukasa found, as likely as she figured, that reproaching minds of such poise was a wasted effort. It was foolish to assume they would give her any chance at annotation concerning uncertainty, even if said dubiety was slight, not fully formed. She would set aside her reservations for as long as she could manage, perhaps even; she would have to suffer the consequences of their actions first hand before she truly understood if what they were doing, making the choice of an entire planet concerning its survival, was fair or not.
Noticing that she was dawdling in her musing, Tsukasa impelled herself to move for her allies' sake, following the two of them into the shady forests obscuring their path. As the trio began their trek into the burgeoning woodland, Misao felt again an augural ardor hidden from within the dark forest paths, and despite Kuroi's earlier sentiment, it certainly wasn't any creature native to the Storm King's asylum.
The canopy of thickened leaves above them had begun to inauspiciously recede, theatrically announcing the arrival of Yutaka and her cadre of demons, who wasted no time in leaping from their mounts and providing an obnoxiously unwelcome roadblock to stall he heroes' progress.
Yutaka had foreseen, with simple premonition based off of Misao's personality, that the drudge's spear would be prodded in her direction without prejudice. She was correct, and thanks be one of her demon brood, a sacrificial shadow-man, was willing to barricade its master with its own body and take the blow, dying pitifully as it melted into a sopping puddle of its own fermenting goo.
Misao growled impetuously, staffing her spear to her side as she wiped the morbidity from her sweaty lips, she could scarcely believe the young priestess had the energy to continue chasing them as she did, a tenacity produced in no small part to her demonic blood no doubt.
"Will you just leave us alone? Do I have to bribe you or something?" Misao offered caustically, amorously revealing a ripened thigh as she lifted her torn pant leg. "Sexual favors? Money? Kuroi's self respect? She does tricks, come on girl sit!" She again derided, earning glares from all parties.
"Reel it in, Kusakabe." Kuroi ordered to her lesser, unlatching her daggers and taking on a battle stance. "I was really hoping it wouldn't come to this priestess, you seem like an agreeable sort, and I'm usually not very fervid when it comes to killing kids, but a job's a job." She professed morosely, waiting for her allies to take posture before inaugurating the more frangible of the two crusaders into battle.
Misao convivially obliged, pronging her spear and preparing for combat, she too awaited the feedback of their junior before progressing. "Tsukasa, where do you stand?" She demanded somewhat hurtfully, placing her ally on the spot in front of all.
Tsukasa faltered in her attempt to grip at her blade's hip-latch, dubious of the role she was condemned to take. The Old One was a calamity the world could indeed do without, but for how long? Science was indeed progressing, dynamically altering their world down to its fibers every day with new breakthroughs and counterstatements to the laws of the church, or even that of physics. Science, while bound by logic and reason, was also a winding esplanade of overruling canons and imagination, and to be indentured by the fixed path was to abandon the thought that all things cannot be changed.
In time perhaps, with the aid of science, mankind could substitute another resource to power the principles of the world in place of the Old One, but would they create such a miracle in time? Who could say, and while man had indeed been responsible for bettering the world around them countless times, so too have they unleashed blight and war on scales that only served as blasphemous to the honor-bound that helped build the world from dirt, only to see their marvels and peace rotted away under the greed and cycling behavior of their fellow humans.
Perhaps, development wasn't always necessary. Perhaps when the hate of many outweighed those who desired harmony, the world itself should remain homogenous, savvy to the constant and forthright with its confrontation against change.
With dampness in her eyes Tsukasa unveiled her short-blade, unsure of herself and of the coming aversion her allies sought. To find her answers, she would force herself to see the world through the eyes of the sixth saint Yutaka, and to do that, would require a debate with steel, for convictions true worth only shown themselves in moments of vulnerability.
"Warriors of the Monumental—" Yutaka commenced cordially, refraining her words when Misao interrupted with a ghoulish raspberry blow of her tongue.
"Oh would you please stop killing my demon friends? Boo hoo. No. Wanna hear it again? The answer is again, no!" Misao discharged indignantly, feeling at this point antagonized by the meek saint in her attempts to dissuade them from their path of regeneration.
"Very well…brethren, attack!" Yutaka ordered mightily, countervailed by an inexorable cough that hushed her to silence. She couldn't help but fall weakly to her knee, grasping at the afflicted seething burning throughout her struggling lungs, there could be no worse time for her sickness to overtake her fragile body than now.
As she seized her escaping breath, her minions fled to her aid, determined to be her shield in a time of fracas. The shadow men and skeletons charged the Moumental's servants by the dozen, and their demonic presence served as a hindrance to the harmony around them. Their cries compelled mass retreat, as animals both large and small ran to their hidey-holes and nests high atop the trees to escape the coming battle.
Misao and Kuroi charged into action instantly, and imperceptibly their less battle-hardened companion followed. Misao's protracted spear found a point, with the blade of the weapon nestled within the blinding core of one of the shadow-men, reverting the demon to the pile of sludge it spawned from, and kindling the battle's outset.
Tsukasa ducked below the challengers in the confusion, proving her demeanor as a true neophyte by blindly swinging her blade in the general direction of one of her enemy's, managing to lob off one of the skeleton's domes but also narrowly missing the assassin.
"Woah there kid, eyes! Rule number 1, your most important battle asset is your eyeballs! Let's you see everything from opponent battle styles to a rock you might trip over." Kuroi pointed out as if it wasn't incontestable in the upmost, bringing home the point by elegantly spotting a pair of piercing scimitars held by a duo of skeletons, which she bent her body clean under and in her slouch managed to bifurcate both demons at the waist.
"S-Sorry…" Tsukasa apologized bashfully, blocking an incoming attack with the blunt end of her blade and pushing the opponent away with the span of her heft, watching as the brittle wrists of the skeleton crunched under even such inconsiderable strain.
Misao too noticed the frailty of her opponent's rotted and gelatinous bodies, but made the mistake of being overly presumptuous when one of the shadow-men took hold of her spear, sucking the entirety of the armament into its darkened belly, where the slave could only watch forlornly as her prized possession was broken down into divisions of blade and wood.
"My spear! This bastard just ate it!" Misao blared out despondently, murderously tackling her provoker to the dirt and ripping the shadowy bits from its body, throwing slabs of darkened jelly-flesh in every direction, hitting defenseless animals, knocking nests from trees and comically bonking malicious demons alike.
Kuroi snickered triumphantly at the sight as she cut down another skeleton. "Woah, watch out there priestess! You just unleashed an animal!" She crowed exaggeratedly, dodging a slash of a blade in her festival and expertly head-butting the traducer into pieces.
As the battle waned in her favor, Yutaka deplorably turned away from the carnage, making her abrupt escape into the nearby forest in hopes of losing her opponents, but as the last of the demons were cut down they exhibited nothing but moxie.
"Oh no you don't! After her!" The hit-woman Kuroi bid to her accomplices, and the two complied as they finished off their opponents both enthusiastically and indolently.
Yutaka's direct gambit had failed as she somewhat suspected, truly the Monumental's servants were something to be feared on the battlefield, even the daintiest of them. She would instead have to bring about her dominion of the battle's favor indirectly, and she knew just how to achieve such success. She had walked these humble forests before, become enchanted by their beauty, and of course, she knew the source of the Storm King's unanimous peace. If she could only find the heart of power, the effulgence she felt beating from the life of every organism within the Storm King's preserve, she could use its nigh limitless power to destroy her enemies hopefully, without difficulty.
Deep within the core of the mighty timbers laid this kernel of power, the marrow of the Storm King's life force. The forest was vast, but the beacon of quintessence shone brightly in the darkness, it would only be a matter of minutes before her enemies found it regardless. If only her destination could be reached then her victory would be assured, and the Storm King's failing life augmented for as long as it needed to be.
The measure of sacrifice necessary to stop these invaders, to protect the Storm King, would undoubtedly however, be great. Great achievements were rarely bred from insignificant sacrifice; Yutaka knew this all too well. The Monumental's servants would fall, before her or otherwise, of this she had no doubt. She could not doubt, not while her undying body still bore breath, lest life itself fade away from the decrepit shell of a future Earth, lest the chain be undone.
Author's Note: None, really. No excuses. Here's a chapter, 9 more chapters pre-written as of a few days ago, all to be uploaded a few days apart from one another. Will continue to write, now that I have at least a month's leeway of pre-written chapters.