Well it's been a long time coming, but the next update is finally here! As compensation for my IRL problems holding me back, I've extended this chapter past the usual length, even if it is only a little bit. And finally, we'll be able to settle things between Cyril and Zanshin, as well as between Hilde and Tira, so that we can all move on with our lives and find out what everyone else has been up to!
Don't forget, the poll for future projects is still up, and reviews and feedback PMs are always greatly appreciated.
Sorry about the line breaks guys, I didn't notice it until your reviews brought it up.
Cyril grimaced as he beheld the twisted, ugly mass of flesh before him. A truly hideous beast, that looked like a mix between every mythological creature the Sentinel had ever seen. But it was merely disgust. By no means was the Sentinel of Lightning afraid of the writhing swath of cobras, or the terrible curved fangs of the monster he faced. It was strong, but it was just another enemy. If it could bleed, he could kill it.
While Cyril was merely confident in his abilities, his demonic opponent was completely full of himself.
"Only a fool would oppose me! I am a lord of the Underworld! I possess powers the like of which a worm like you has never seen! If you beg for mercy, perhaps I'll make your death quick!"
Placing no stock in any of that garbage, Cyril would not allow himself to be goaded. He merely kept a firm grip on his magical blade as he stared down the enemy, his ocean blue eyes hidden behind a solid black visor.
"You will receive no such thing from me. You are the weakest of your kin, and I am fully capable of defeating you. You will suffer for the atrocity you committed here. I am no angel, and you will receive no forgiveness. Are you ready?"
The cobras that grew from the creature hissed in anger, epitomizing the feeling Cyril could feel emanating from his irritated foe.
"You talk a lot, for such a worthless creature. You heavenly types, with your 'morality code' and virtuous hearts, are even more disgusting than the vermin that walk this earth!"
Wasting no more breath, Cyril shifted into a crouched stance that looked like a tiger prepared for a pounce.
"I will take your attitude to mean that you are ready for destruction. Prepare yourself."
Finished talking and eager to punish the demon that had wreaked so much havoc on the town that surrounded him, Cyril charged forward with his enhanced speed, closing the gap between himself and his opponent in but a second. He swung Naegling in a short, controlled arc that gave Zanshin hardly any time to dodge or block the attack.
But having already witnessed the fight between Cyril and Shura from within said woman's body, the grotesque demon was already prepared to counter Cyril's speed. Instead of blocking or dodging the blow, Zanshin decided to head off the attack by spouting a gouge of hellish red flames from his maw. Unable to effectively block the attack, Cyril had no choice but to cancel his current move and roll to the side, dodging the heated fires of hell.
Following his movements, Zanshin launched his cobras at Cyril before the Sentinel was even to his feet. The tangle of muscular reptiles coiled around the armored warrior, immobilizing him before he could react. Seeing a decent opportunity to end this fight with a bloody mess, Zanshin attempted to perform one of his favorite executions.
Violently constricting the bodies of the cobras latched onto him, the freakish demon sought to crush Cyril's body in one move. The force from the squeeze was immense, causing Cyril's enchanted armor to squeal in protest as the powerful metal felt unaccustomed stress placed on it. Were it not for that armor, Cyril knew his guts would have been squeezed out of him in moments.
But then again, the Sentinels wore their armor for a reason, and it did its job quite well. Frustrated with his lack of success, Zanshin roared in fury and tightened his grip even further, preventing Cyril from moving his arms at all. But for a warrior endowed with supernatural abilities, his arms were not his only weapons.
Emitting a pulse of electricity throughout his body, Cyril transferred an electric shock from himself to the snakes that constricted his frame. Likewise, the current traveled through the snakes' bodies until they reached Zanshin, zapping him as well. It was a low voltage attack, but nevertheless served its purpose. The electrical offensive targeted the nerves of his enemies, causing them to jerk and spasm. As such, the cobras' grip around Cyril was loosened, and he took advantage of the opening to roll out of their reach.
Nevertheless, it was a pretty weak attack, and it fazed the demon before Cyril for only a moment. In a fit of anger, Zanshin spewed another gout of flame at the Sentinel, but the distance between them allowed Cyril to easily sidestep the attack, unlike last time.
Throughout the short combat, Cyril had been observing his target, analyzing him for weaknesses or strengths that could affect the outcome of the battle. While it was true that a Sentinel's power was greater than a minor demon like Zanshin, such a foe still possessed enough power to kill Cyril if he was careless or over-confident. He had to figure out every attack pattern he could that would play to his advantage.
Nearly all demonic creatures were of the fire element, which lightning was neither superior nor inferior to. Unfortunately, Cyril's lightning was his greatest weapon, and without it being at full effectiveness, his combat strength was significantly reduced. Zanshin also had superior melee attack range, thanks to his cluster of cobras. And although his wings were tattered and torn, it was still unclear to Cyril whether or not this demon possessed the advantage of flight.
On the other hand, Cyril's speed was far superior to this towering creature's, and Naegling was definitely sharper than the claws and fangs Zanshin sported. Whoever possessed more raw strength was still an unknown factor.
All in all, Cyril thought the odds were in his favor. With a careful plan of attack, this fight should be no problem. His only concern was that Amy had indeed left the battlefield far behind, instead of choosing to stick around and watch from a distance or some such. The danger zone for a battle between a demon and a supernatural warrior was quite large, so he didn't want any stray attacks even having a possibility of hitting her. Honestly, that girl was such a pain... but Cyril was glad to have her around.
Guess I should go ahead and finish this. I've really been getting distracted far too much lately...
Charging tiny bolts of lightning in each of his fingers, Cyril launched them upwards into the sky, before the ten of them descended back down towards Zanshin.
In an attempt to defend himself, Zanshin raised his non-snake arm to block the electric arrows, but the concentrated attack burned straight through the demon's tough flesh and muscle. It was a piercing attack meant to get though the toughest defense, and the ten lightning arrows went completely through the demon it struck. Unfortunately, the pinpoint sized lightning bolts did very little spread damage, and left little else than sizzling holes in Zanshin's skin. Even so, they were very painful, and Zanshin hissed in anger and rage before swinging his cobra arm in a wide arc at the offending Sentinel.
Cyril believed himself to be out of range, but he was surprised to see the snakes stretch even further than they had last time to reach him. Unprepared for it, Cyril took the full brunt of the attack and was launched backwards into an empty house. He smashed through the outer wall with such force that the tiny hovel caved in on itself, burying the Sentinel of Lightning in rubble.
Seeing a golden opportunity for an entertaining demise, Zanshin eyed the destroyed house of wood like a pile of kindling, just before breathing a huge wave of fire to ignite it. The old wood burst into ravaging flames in seconds, beginning the cremation of one buried Sentinel.
Everyone in Castle Wolfkrone, with the exception of the unconscious Luana, stared in either astonishment or disbelief at the sight of a splurge of blood in the direction of King Krone. Tira's ring blade was dug into the floor, the force of her swing having easily broken a bit of the rock the structure was comprised of. The edge of her weapon was bloodied a crimson red, and a piece of detached flesh laid beside it.
While everyone else was astonished, Tira's face sported one of utter confusion.
What the hell is wrong with me... I missed?!
On the floor at Tira's feet, King Krone cradled the bloody stump that was the only remnant of his right hand as he cried out in pain and agony. Tira was on a roll for severing limbs today.
While Hilde was immensely relieved that the only thing removed from her father's body was his hand, she was still filled with fury at the sight of him wounded. With a surge of strength that came from reserves unknown, Hilde pushed her pain far out of her mind and grabbed the discarded spear at her side. Pushing herself to her feet, she charged at the offender with a roar, her trailing scarlet hair giving her the imposing appearance of a flaming Valkyrie.
Neither Voldo nor Astaroth seemed worried about the attack, both confident that Tira was more than capable of dodging something so direct. But when Hilde had cleared half of the distance between herself and her target and Tira had yet to even glance in her direction, both malfested servants realized that the girl was lost in some sort of shock.
As they had concluded, Tira was indeed lost deep within her own thoughts, completely oblivious to the impending danger to her person.
How did I... how the hell could I miss?! That's not possible, it was such an easy move! Did I pull away on purpose, subconsciously?! Did my other other side intervene?! Why?! What's wrong with me?!
Both Voldo and Astaroth had by now decided that Tira wasn't going to react to Hilde's charge, and that they would have to step in. But by the time their brains told their bodies to move, they knew they would never reach Tira in time to defend her. The deranged and stunned teenage girl stood stock still as Hilde came within range of her.
Even so, the malfested's violet eyes flickered towards the approaching danger at the last possible second, and only subconscious instinct kept Tira from being skewered as she twisted away from the tip of Hilde's spear.
But she had reacted far too late to avoid injury. The steel tip of Hilde's lance caught Tira's exposed flesh just above the hip, slicing through her pale skin and grating against the lowest rib on that side of the girl's torso. As the bladed head of the lance passed through its target, trailing crimson blood behind it, Hilde twisted around and slammed the butt of her weapon into the recently opened wound in Tira's side. With a nasty squelch, the blunt end of her lance sunk into Tira's innards, if only a by an inch or so. The tense muscle in Tira's well-toned body helped prevent further penetration.
Either way, Tira only managed to loose a strangled cry before copious amounts of blood spluttered from her mouth and she crumpled to the floor, dropping Eiserne Drossel as she clutched at her injury in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding and the pain. Before Hilde could whip her lance around and plunge it into her enemy's neck or some other vulnerable vital spot, Voldo was on top of her.
The freakish gray-skinned man screeched something incoherent at his fiery redheaded target as he attempted to gut her with his katars, but Hilde's recent adrenaline rush gave her a needed edge to block the attack and kick the offender away from her. The creature landed back at Astaroth's feet, hissing all the while.
Currently oblivious to her injuries and her pain, Hilde readied her lance and charged at her two malfested foes with a roar. She would be damn sure to die before she let these bastards get the best of her and her country.
With a grunt of small effort but great irritation, one Sentinel of Lightning shoved a piece of burning debris off of him. As he stood and extracted himself from the raging flames, Cyril wished he could shed his armor. It had protected him from the worst of the flames, but had also ensconced him in a heated shell, and he was sweating profusely in the uncomfortable heat of his metal coating.
Zanshin's demonic face wasn't capable of making human expressions, but nevertheless Cyril thought he could see the disappointment in it. He felt the need to jab at the demon for aggravating him.
"That was... tiresome. I do hope we can put an end to this quickly."
Infuriated by Cyril's seemingly nonchalant attitude towards this whole battle, Zanshin roared at his foe.
"You dare mock me, whelp?! You are barely worth-!"
Before the demon could finish whatever he was going to say, Cyril was behind him, his trademark unreal speed coming into play. He spun through the air and slammed his metal-clad boot into Zanshin's side, although the blow didn't knock back the sizable monster more than a few feet.
"Please stay focused on the battle. I'm bored enough with you giving your best, never mind anything less than that."
In a fit of retaliatory rage, Zanshin swung his whip-like snake arm again, but it was all too easy for Cyril to see it coming this time around. He waited for it to come within a few feet of him before back-stepping while simultaneously swinging Naegling in a decapitating arc where he had been standing. As the cluster of snakes passed by, more than half of them lost their heads, which fell to the ground and writhed in sickly death throes.
Cyril was not satisfied with such a small success though. Zanshin seemed little more than irritated, and if the last time had been any indication, the snakes would just regenerate within a few minutes. Still, Cyril knew that goading his foe into reckless action could make his job significantly easier.
"I won't fall for such a cheap gimmick again. If it is within your ability, I suggest you attempt to be more creative... unless swinging snakes and breathing fire is the full extent of your powers?"
Refusing to even acknowledge Cyril's insults this time around, the least formidable demon of Hell's Gate flew up into the air on his tattered wings. Zanshin opened his mouth to spew fire at Cyril again, who was quite disappointed in the slight difference in the demon's offensive. However, Cyril himself was surprised when fire exited the demon's mouth not in a large torrent, but a fast moving condensed bolt. This precise fire attack moved at a much greater speed than Cyril expected, but he still managed to deflect it with his blade, even though it painfully jarred the bones in his arms.
Seeing the greater difficulty it took for his opponent to block such an attack, Zanshin decided to press further with it, launching several fire bolts in rapid succession. Still recovering from the last jarring hit, Cyril quickly decided that blocking each and every shot would be painful and debilitating, so he instead chose to do a series of back-flips out of the way. However, Cyril realized that he had somewhat underestimated his adversary's intelligence when a fire bolt impacted the back of his right thigh in mid air. Apparently, Zanshin had been expecting Cyril to evade and had rectified his aim accordingly.
Being hit by such force in midair spun Cyril wildly out of control. His feet briefly came into contact with the ground and he tried to recover his footing, but he was moving too fast to stop himself, and the armor-clad Sentinel tumbled and rolled on the ground until he came to a stop some distance from the fire he had emerged from just a few minutes ago.
Quickly shaking off the dull ache in his leg, Cyril rose to his feet and glared daggers at the demon flapping about in the air.
Alright... suffice to say I won't be holding back any longer.
Hilde huffed and heaved as she desperately tried to catch her breath at a distance from Voldo and Astaroth. The spike of adrenaline from earlier had long since worn off, and all of her wounds and pain came rushing back to meet her. She had put up a decent fight, but now every last ounce of her strength was drained, and she was in no better condition than Tira, who was rasping out sharp, quick breaths on the floor as she attempted to staunch her bleeding with her hands.
While Astaroth and Voldo were a little worse for wear, they were still in a condition well enough to dispatch Hilde and finish their job here. King Krone's daughter could only feel remorse and regret at having been too weak to protect her father. The two malfested monsters began to approach Hilde to finish her off. She briefly thought of threatening Tira to get them to back off, but she knew that there was no camaraderie among these evil, twisted freaks. They couldn't care less whether Tira lived or died.
That being the case, as Hilde struggled to stand from her kneeling position on the floor, she could do nothing but await her execution at the hands of the malfested servants of Nightmare.
But before either of her enemies could take more than a few steps, the doors at the far end of the hall burst open and several red-trimmed, steel-clad Wolfkrone troops spilled into the chamber. Among their number were several dozens of crossbowmen and knights in heavy armor. One soldier looked exceptionally battered and beaten; and it occurred to Hilde that one of her men from the earlier combat must have run off to get assistance.
The Wolfkrone crossbowmen already had their weapons loaded, taking steady aim and firing at the hulking golem that threatened their princess. Normally Astaroth's thick hide would deflect projectiles, but the steel bolts were being fired at an incredibly close range, and they were designed to pierce thick armor. Many of the bolts bounced off, but just as many pierced Astaroth's craggy defenses.
Voldo, unlike his gigantic companion, was not immune to projectiles, so he hid behind Astaroth's bulky frame, hissing at the malfested monster all the while. As more and more reinforcements poured into the room, it became increasingly clear to these two that a tactical retreat was in order. Without a word to one another or even a backwards glance at Tira, Astaroth charged at the far wall with many stained glass windows, seemingly getting ready to charge right through. Hilde couldn't believe that was his actual goal. After all, this part of the castle was several hundred feet up. Would even Astaroth be able to survive a drop like that?
Apparently the golem believed he could. Astaroth crashed through the windows with the force of a battering ram, and dropped like one hell of a heavy rock. Completely astounded, many of the soldiers went to peer over the edge, but it did nothing to assuage their curiosity.
"They're gone! There's no crater or anything!"
Hilde wanted to reprimand the soldier for stating the impossible, but then again, her opponents had fallen from the ceiling in the first place... to imagine them disappearing so quickly didn't seem so far-fetched at this point.
Several physicians crowded into the chamber after the place had been labelled secure by its rescue party. Almost all of them crowded around Hilde and her father, completely neglecting the more serious injuries in the room.
Hilde had to shove away a few of them, trying in vain to convince them that she was alright. "I'm still standing aren't I?! Get over there and help Luana, her wounds are far more grievous than mine! She may have lost too much blood already!"
At first a few of the physicians objected.
"But Princess, you are of more importance-"
Hilde grabbed the man by his collar and shoved him towards her Lieutenant. "Damn right I'm important, so do what I say! Luana needs attention now!"
No longer eager to argue with the princess, several of her medical specialists moved to take Luana somewhere for critical care. Hilde pulled one of them aside and gestured towards Tira's unconscious frame.
"I want her alive; make sure it happens. When she's stable, toss her in the dungeon."
"Of course your highness."
Satisfied with that, Hilde was about to turn and heck on her father, but her knees buckled and she fell to the ground. She was unconscious before she hit the floor.
"I grow tired of this poor imitation of a fight Zanshin. Let's just end this already."
Cyril and Zanshin were across from each other, although the demon flapped about in the air and Cyril stayed rooted to the ground.
"You talk big for someone who has done me no real harm! But you're right; you're an eyesore and I'm through wasting my effort on you! We can put an end to this farce now."
Zanshin began charging up another fire attack in his maw, but this one seemed to be highly condensed. It almost seemed more like lava than flames, but either way, Cyril didn't care. He raised his right arm up and began charging a powerful attack of his own. There was no doubt in his mind that he would easily overpower whatever Zanshin threw at him with it.
"Just be sure to stay in hell this time around."
Without another word from either party, both adversaries launched their final blow at each other. From Zanshin's maw a huge ball of molten rock and lava erupted forward to incinerate all before it. From Cyril's arm emitted a straight line of white lightning, a piercing lance of pure electric power.
The two attacks collided in midair above the town, blasting stray blobs of lava and bolts of electricity all around, that blasted entire homes to shambles when they made contact. Zanshin seemed confident in his attack, but Cyril knew that Gungnir was one of his most powerful moves; the reason he knew it would finish Zanshin off is because he knew that it drained a huge amount of his exceptional power and that he'd only be able to use it once for the next three days. Any attack that drained a Sentinel so significantly was guaranteed to destroy whatever unlucky foe it was used on.
Cyril was not disappointed as Gungnir punched a hole through the center of Zanshin's wall of flame and continued to race towards the demon at blinding speed. There was no time for the creature to react as the white lightning pierced his chest cavity and expanded outwards at a rapid rate. Before Zanshin could scream, curse, or even yell bloody murder, every individual cell in his body exploded outwards, and the town was momentarily bathed in a grisly rain of what little bit was left of the demon.
Cyril lowered his arm, attempting to keep his groans of pain from escaping his lips as he felt the burning throughout the limb. All powerful attacks came with a drawback; Gungnir was too powerful even for the Sentinel of Lightning to utilize unscathed. Under his armor Cyril's right arm was riddled with jagged burn marks. They would heal over without scars in a few weeks, but the pain until then would be more than a little unpleasant.
He may have been standing there fighting off the pain for a bit longer than he thought, because Cyril soon heard the light patter of Amy's footsteps behind him. If she was fazed by the bloody mess splattered around the town, she didn't show it. All of her attention was focused on Cyril.
"Are you all right?! I mean, you did it, but are you hurt? Why didn't you just use that from the start?! You could have avoided being smacked around so much!"
Cyril couldn't tell if her criticism was because she was genuinely displeased or actually concerned about his well-being. It was probably a little bit of both.
"Trust me, that move hurt me a lot more than that demon's attacks did. It's not to be used lightly. Even so, I'll be fine. By the way, I wouldn't consider you sticking around to watch the fight a safe distance. I though I told you to get far away from here?"
Amy's mouth curved into a scowl. "I wasn't just going to leave while you were fighting for your life out here!"
Cyril nodded, thinking he understood, although he most certainly did not. "Ah, that's right... you need my help to move around the country unhindered. My demise would be inconvenient for you."
The wounded Sentinel was utterly bewildered when Amy actually went from angry to furious. "You fool, that's not the reason! I wasn't worried about convenience, I was worried about you! You might be insufferable, but I don't want you to die!"
Cyril smiled underneath his helm, having not removed it yet. "I see. I'm... glad, that you care for my health to some degree: although I'm sure Edwin is not."
Amy's face contorted in embarrassment at the mention of her earlier embarrassments. "You promised to never speak of that again!"
"I recall no such promise."
Amy thought about kicking the offender in the shin or something, but she figured that would be a bad idea with all of the armor he was wearing. She instead settled for muttering something at him that sounded awfully crude.
The moment of humor passed quickly, and Cyril looked back around at the decimated town and the pile of the slaughtered dead.
"Amy, I want you to go wait outside of the village somewhere. I must tend to the fallen."
As much as she wanted to object, Amy suddenly found herself incapable of mustering the energy to do so. The gruesome reminder of death darkened her mood and her spirits very quickly.
"I am not incapable of aiding you with such a task. I could-"
Unwilling to let her finish, Cyril shook his head in decline. "I think you've dealt with enough today. Please allow me to take care of it. I will rejoin you soon."
No longer in the mood for talking, Amy shuffled away from the Sentinel of Lightning and towards the edge of the village. Cyril watched her go until she was out of his sight, and then turned back towards the mound of the murdered, gloomily wondering where he could find a shovel.
Okay, so it isn't much longer than a usual chapter, but I came down with a fever today and I don't know if I'll be in the mood for writing this weekend with that ailment afflicting me, so I'm posting this now while I'm still feeling relatively OK.
Next time we'll finally see what everyone else has been up to. And yes, I know I need to update faster, please don't feel the need to say that. Life is hectic and only permits me so much free time, so I can't be on the ball 24/7. Still, I'll try to work some more time into this from here on, so I hope you'll all forgive me for the long wait. Until next time!