Still just a lot of jumping around character-wise, sorry. I... wanted to bring in as many characters as I could? Which is probably stupidly ambitious, especially when it comes to balancing said characters, but.
As always, reviews are welcome.
"Brother, this one doesn't work either."
Switzerland acknowledged the comment with a grunt, more interested in studying the scene outside. The things had been scrabbling at the outer walls of the fortress for hours now, leaving gouges and char marks on stone and steel. At least it was holding up though. And at least the creatures couldn't fly. Yet.
It was, he decided, fortunate he tended to plan for all eventualities, or he and Liechtenstein would have been trapped in the less-defensible house their city residence was. It was unsettling that none of his guns had managed to make an impact so far though.
Switzerland frowned and held out his hand. "Next weapon, Liechtenstein."
"Yes, brother!"
...
The axe whistled through the air and clove the demon in two. Denmark cackled with the kill, mentally adding to his tally. His blood sang as he swung again, a claw slicing through his sleeve and cutting flesh, but he didn't care. Oh, how little he minded! He hadn't had a battle like this for far too long.
Duck, sidestep, raise the blade high and let it fall. In the middle of nowhere, with nothing else around, the demons swarmed to him, in fact threatened to overwhelm him completely through sheer numbers alone. That probably didn't bode too well for their success in ridding the infestation, come to think of it, but he'd rather worry about the present before the future any day.
Like figuring out the quickest way to carve a path forward.
A heavy thud shuddered the ground behind him, and he whirled around to find Norway approaching, Iceland half a step after. Everything between them had been flattened.
Norway's expression was blank as always. "Watch your back. Idiot," and idly flicked a hand that sent howling lights mowing clear an opening.
"I knew you cared!" he crowed as the brothers fell to his side, though the remark got him an "accidental" jab from the hilt of Iceland's sword. Iceland didn't bother to apologize. That was all right. He was sure that was how either of them expressed affection! "I- I'm okay! Ow," he wheezed instead.
Shaking his head, Norway took a deep breath, let it out and let himself fall behind. "Buy me time," he said, and drawing on his magic, began to call on ice and fire.
...
The streets had quieted since the sky had gone dark, most people either barricaded in their own homes or dead already. Even the cats had disappeared; for once, there was no sign of them other than a lingering pungent scent. Greece was just glad they'd gotten away.
"Young man!" someone called. The voice sliced through the quiet, beckoning. Greece scanned the row of buildings until he found an old woman standing at her window. She motioned at him impatiently.
He pointed to himself. "Ah... me?"
"Who else do you see? Now hurry and come closer, don't keep me waiting." She nodded, satisfied, when he complied. "Good boy. I have a gift for you."
The sword she shoved to him felt familiar the way his mother's armour and weapons had - not the same, but of a family - and he marveled over it, its solid presence. When he looked up to thank the woman, she had disappeared.
"...Mmn, thank you," he said, nonetheless.
.
To be continued.