Author's Note: Timestamp: 11:10 PM - Friday. Although a little late, I still got this posted in time of my announcement.
By the way, if any of you haven't reread Chapter 5, I suggest that you do so before you read this chapter. I changed the plot a bit when I reposted Chapter 5, so if you've read the first version, then this chapter will make little sense to you.
As always, make yourself comfortable and enjoy.
Once again, she had run out of ammunition. Once again, Dinah looked on and watched – no longer able to be of any assistance to Lazarus and War. After all, four magazines with five bullets in each could only accomplish so much.
To her credit though, she did manage to heavily wound one of the Traumas.
The battlefield had changed now. Instead of the two being surrounded on all sides, they now had a lot of breathing room. The soldier demons of the horde had formed a massive circle around them, allowing for ample fighting room for all combatants involved. But this was done only to accommodate the Traumas – in no way did the demons intend to help their enemy.
And right now, in a sudden burst of movement and flames, their enemy had made their move.
The first thing Lazarus noticed was speed. Ruin was unbelievably fast! Much faster than any other horse he had ridden before. The wind slapped into his face, blowing his shaggy hair about. He could feel the horse's powerful muscles at work underneath the saddle, spurring Ruin faster and faster, the horse snorting with exertion. Was this the horse's normal speed, or was the phantom steed putting on a show for Lazarus, perhaps attempting to intimidate the human somehow? Whatever the reason, Lazarus had only one response.
"YAAAAAAHOOOOO!" A manic grin formed on his face as he whooped with excitement, the speed giving him an adrenaline rush. He leaned forward along the horse's back, attempting to streamline his body. Lazarus recalled War saying that Ruin's true speed emerged whenever the horse was rider-less. It would seem that, after having a monster of a man like War riding atop him for however long the two have been working together, a mere human would bring out much of Ruin's mobility.
The distance between the Traumas and Ruin were nearly negligible – mere seconds elapsed before engagement commenced.
Like a rocket, Lazarus and Ruin zoomed underneath the legs of one of the Traumas, instantly turning heads. Lazarus gestured with the reins to turn left, but Ruin seemed to have other plans. Again, Lazarus made his intentions known. So did Ruin. The horse charged forward, the Traumas left in the dust and the wall of Phantom Guards looming ever closer. Seeing the soldier demons seemed to spurn the horse even faster onwards – it was intent on closing the distance with the demons as fast as possible.
The demonic lines tightened up, the soldier demons bracing for impact. That didn't stop Ruin though. The phantom horse slammed right into the demons, bowling over the enemies in the way and trampling the unfortunate ones underneath his hooves. And then, like a bronco, Ruin started bucking wildly, thrashing about and causing mayhem amongst the Guards. Lazarus held on tight to Ruin, hoping against hope that he would not fall off – in the middle of a demonic formation was not a good place to get bucked from a horse. But that is exactly what happened – with a final and mighty buck, Lazarus was flung from the saddle and crashed into the ground.
With a groan, Lazarus slowly got to his feet. Much to his dismay, Ruin left him to his fate, disappearing into the ground in a firestorm.
"Son of a bitch!" Lazarus exclaimed. And once again, the human found himself surrounded on all sides by Phantom Guards.
'Goddamnit! I just got out of this mess!'
With a frustrated sigh, Lazarus drew the rifle for his right hand, while holding Mercy in his left. The demons slowly closed in as one, preparing to attack. But before both Lazarus and the Guards could engage each other, suddenly, BANG!
The space behind Lazarus exploded outward as Ruin phased back into the physical realm. Lazarus was thrown clear off his feet by the force of the explosion, smashing into a Guard and both toppling to the ground. And without any provocation, Ruin started slaughtering the demons – left, right, and center.
Once again, Lazarus groaned. "Anyone get the license plate of that truck?" he asked, groggily. Then he realized who he was laying next too. Fortunately, the Guard was out cold with a gash on its head. He didn't care if the demon was alive or dead.
As he moved to get up, a Guard was suddenly sent flying over his head, screaming as he went. The human kept his gaze on the demon's flight, before he crashed into a fellow comrade.
Lazarus glanced back towards Ruin, the one no doubt responsible for that. He was still going at it, attempting to kill everything he saw – fortunately, Ruin was not facing his way.
"Well then," was all he said. Quickly, he got up and dusted himself of, as if he was not on a battlefield. He found his rifle and Mercy not far from him.
Once he retrieved his weapon and War's handgun, he turned back to look at Ruin – and nearly ran smack-dab into the horse. The steed's incendiary eyes stared into his, pinning him with a fiery glare. Lazarus just stood there, inches apart from Ruin's face, nearly scared shitless.
"What? What'd I do?"
The horse merely snorted black smoke in response, sending the smoke into Lazarus' face. The human coughed, waving away the smoke.
"Are you acting this way because I kicked you?
Another snort and another cough.
"Okay, that's strike one," he said after waving away the smoke again. "Are you pissed because you don't like the fact that I'm riding you?"
A positive response this time (or, at least, Lazarus thought it was a positive response) – Ruin whinnied.
"Well this was the only plan I could come up with in short order. What'd you expect me to do in this situation, go Rambo on these fuckers?"
Again, the horse whinnied.
'Huh, that's interesting. War's horse knows who Rambo is.'
"Okay, fine. I'm sorry. I should have asked permission first – not that you would have allowed that anyways."
With that, Lazarus moved to the horse's side, as if to mount him – but he did not do anything.
"Now, let's try this again. Ruin, do you object to me being your current rider in anyway?"
Ruin merely grunted in response.
"Not too sure what that was. I'm just going to assume that was a no. But do you at least trust me?" The phantom steed turned his head and glared at him, as if to say, "What do you think?" Lazarus merely shrugged.
"Take that as a no. Well too bad, because you're gonna have to – War can't take on all those baddies all by his lonesome."
Begrudgingly, the horse turned his head and decided to allow, just for this one time, to allow a stranger to be at the helm. After all, the human was right, at least partially.
With little effort, Lazarus mounted the saddle – Ruin made no action to dismount him. Now that Ruin was not trying to remove him, Lazarus became much more at ease in the saddle. The phantom steed may be bigger than any other kind of horse he had rode before, but Ruin was still a horse. Lazarus' body hugged the horse's frame once again.
"Ruin, you may not trust me," he said. "but by the end of today, rest assured, you will."
This was bad. He suspected that this would happen. Lazarus should not have even come up with the idea. The Horseman saw what happened when Ruin took off like a bat out of Hell – he plowed straight into enemy lines. He had no idea if that was intentional or Lazarus had lost control of the horse. Either way, his situation had just become worse.
Now War stood alone, without a gun and without a horse. The squad of Traumas now advanced upon a single target. They stayed in formation – but slowly and surely, the pack began to split apart. Their intentions were clear right away – surround him.
War had only few choices before hostilities openly began. Obviously, he had Chaoseater – no way would he willingly part with that. As always, the powerful weapon would prove to be invaluable. But that did not mean that the sword was his only method of waging war. He was equipped with a small arsenal's worth of weapons, which he would not hesitate to use.
But it would be his Chaos form that would be the saving grace here. Now that he had all his power back (being restored with the breaking of the seventh seal), he could, potentially, fight this entire battle transformed. However, it had been a very long time since he last accomplished that. Many of his abilities were like a muscle – in this case, the more he used Chaos form, the longer he could maintain the transformation. But there was a risk – if he overexerted himself, War could lose the ability to fight and become a sitting duck.
As the enemy drew closer, War concluded that his Chaos form would be used only as a final measure.
War was surrounded now. He drew his sword and readied himself. But just as the Traumas commenced their attack, something happened.
For the second time that day, a flaming mass blasted through the space between the legs of one the massive demons. It was Ruin, and sitting astride the saddle was Lazarus, whooping like a crazed warrior and firing Mercy as fast as he could pull the trigger.
BANG!-BANG!-BANG!-BANG!-BANG!
With each squeeze of the trigger, the four barrels of the handgun erupted with fire as multiple lead missiles rocketed out of the weapon.
Ruin came to a sliding stop by War. "Horseman, you better get the hell out of this death-trap before -"
An enraged roar assaulted their ears as a Trauma, having been riddled with a fusillade of bullets, charge at them, his sights dead set on Lazarus. The monstrosity was surprisingly quick for something so large – Ruin had only a second to evade.
The Trauma swiped downward – an explosion of grass and dirt erupted from where Ruin once stood as he leapt aside in the nick of time – War dive-rolled away. Lazarus, all the while, continued to perforate the demon's calloused skin.
Suddenly, War rushed forward, seizing the opportunity. Before the demon could pull away, War swung hard but quick, severing the offending arm below the elbow.
The Trauma bellowed in a mix of pain and anger. But apparently, cutting off an arm did not seem to be very painful for the monstrosity, as it immediately brought up a foot and attempted to crush War.
War quickly jammed Chaoseater into the ground.
And in response, a massive sword erupted out of the ground in front of War and rocketed toward the Hell-spawn. The demon's armor-like skin did nothing to protect it from this attack as the blade punched clean through the skin and into the abdomen, blood erupting from the large wound – it doubled over. The Trauma's foot came down only on solid ground, its planned attack foiled.
War pulled Chaoseater back out of the ground – the massive blade that had spurted forth retracted as he did so. The Trauma fell to all fours, pain clearly evident in its features. In pained fury, it roared at him once more but was quickly silenced as Chaoseater was suddenly lodged right into the demon's forehead – War had thrown the weapon as if it were a spear.
Immediately, the Trauma collapsed to the ground. Its breathing suddenly stopped and its eyes stared blankly ahead.
The Horseman moved to retrieve his sword but was interrupted when another demon, angered by the death of his comrade charged forward, swinging its arms in lethal arcs.
War merely somersaulted backwards – evading the first swing altogether – before performing a completely inhuman dash backwards. It looked like he did not even move his feet to perform the maneuver.
War counterattacked.
From out of thin air it seemed, a large weapon formed in his hands in a flash of purple light. It looked menacing, and yet, at the same time, frail, as if it was about to fall apart at any moment. It was a gray color – ashy even. It looked demonic as well. Organic would be a good word to describe it. And yet, despite its delicate and strange appearance, it was powerful – very powerful. It pulsed with energy, in fact, a purplish aura surrounding it.
This weapon was the Harvester – the legendary scythe of the Grim Reaper himself.
War reared back and flung Death's scythe like a boomerang – like a bat out of Hell, it flew at a furious speed, as if the weapon was self-aware of its chosen target and resolved to end the enemy's life quickly.
Then War reached to the back of his waist and pulled out another weapon. It was big, which seemed to be the norm for War, but it was not nearly as big as some of his other weapons – indeed, it was small enough to fit into his right hand's grasp. It was, essentially, an oversized shuriken, with the blades curved. War had a name for the weapon, but he forgot what it was – he used the weapon so infrequently that it was no wonder that he forgot its designation. He threw that too.
While the scythe cleaved aside a place for it in the Trauma's torso, the throwing star – the Crossblade, War suddenly recalled – sliced its way into the demon's right eye.
Predictably, the Trauma started to thrash about, alarmed at the aspect of its vision suddenly halving. War seized the opportunity and charged forward. The Horseman summoned yet another weapon.
A blue light shimmered around his right arm – the light quickly formed a shape, before becoming a solid object. It was a gauntlet - and it was as large as War's left gauntlet. But this one was much more intimidating than the other one. The face of a bizarre demon took up the entirety of the back of the hand, complete with a set of eerie, red eyes. Various spikes and protuberances enhanced the frightening visual effect of the gauntlet.
Stopping just short of the Hell-spawn, War raised his right hand into the air – now encased within the powerful Tremor Gauntlet. Cerulean energy began to form around his fist, before speeding up and swirling around him at high speeds. And then, he brought the weapon down hard onto the ground.
Instantly, the Trauma began to wobble, its pain quickly forgotten as it tried to maintain balance. It didn't fall.
Again, War raised his fist into the air. Again, energy formed around him. Again, the Horseman brought the Gauntlet down to the ground with an almighty crash. But suddenly, War then raised his left gauntlet and hammered down repeatedly on the ground, alternating between hands.
Shockwave after shockwave after shockwave emanated from his position as if he was the epicenter of a powerful earthquake. Finally, the Trauma succumbed to the powerful forces War was unleashing. It fell to a knee and put its hands on the ground, transferring weight to its forward limbs.
Before the demon could do anything else, War was suddenly right there in front of it, the Tremor Gauntlet shaking with power. Without hesitation, the Horseman leaped upwards, bringing his right fist upwards and connecting with the Trauma's chin in a bone-jarring uppercut.
The raw power of the weapon was just simply too much to resist against. The Hell-spawn was sent sprawling backwards onto its back with a mighty crash.
But War was not finished yet. When he landed back on the ground, the Horseman leaped forward, landing on the toppled demon's chest. And then, War demonstrated a display of sheer brutality.
War raised both of his fists up into the air and repeatedly slammed down on the demon's chest. Wave after wave of blows rained down on one small part of the Trauma's armor-like hide. But no armor was impenetrable – eventually, with repeated stress, even the mightiest of armor can fail.
With a sickening crack, War caved in his enemy's chest. The demon's body elicited a violent spasm in response to the blow. It stopped moving, but it wasn't dead. It would take a truly debilitating blow to kill this kind of demon.
And that was exactly what he did.
Retrieving the Harvester, which was still embedded into the Trauma's chest – somehow unaffected by the thundering shockwaves of the Tremor Gauntlet – the First Horseman of the Apocalypse committed his execution.
Groggily, the Trauma raised its head to look down on its chest, only to have the scythe cut a clean swath through its skull. War could practically see the head split at the seams. The head just simply fell back to where it was in response. This time, the creature finally stopped moving. War could tell – the demon's torso, which he was still standing on, had stopped moving abruptly.
Two Traumas down, six more to go.
In a flash of purple light, the Harvester disappeared into thin air seemingly. Climbing up the dead corpse, he retrieved the Crossblade from Trauma's eye and returned it to his belt.
Turning around, he was surprised at the sight that beheld him.
Lazarus was still riding atop Ruin, the phantom steed doing a very good job at avoiding enemy attacks. The two were practically keeping all remaining demons busy single-handedly. The human was still firing Mercy like a madman. The familiar report that Mercy made echoed across the battlefield nearly constantly as bullets flew in almost every direction.
But at the same time, Lazarus was focusing his fire. Whenever he could, he would send a volley of fire in one particular direction, before quickly switching targets to ward off an attack. The demon that was receiving the concentrated fire was the one that had been wounded by the sniper a little while ago. While it still bore the large holes in its body from the sniper's work, numerous smaller wounds dotted across the demon's frame.
It was on its last leg, so to speak. The Trauma's movement was sluggish and slow, its breathing heavy.
Suddenly, Ruin charged towards this demon at a remarkable speed. Lazarus had stopped firing as well. Right before horse and demon collided with one another Lazarus drew one of his rifles and leapt off the saddle high into the air. Ruin, for his part, merely phased into the ground.
Unfortunately, Lazarus didn't jump high enough. But that's why he had the rifle. The human lodged the rifle into the demon's skin. With the bayonet acting as an anchor point and the rifle body itself acting as a springboard, Lazarus landed on the rifle, and then jumped higher. With seemingly little effort, Lazarus had vaulted from Ruin's saddle all the way up to the Trauma's head. For its part, the demon, either too weak to act or too surprised by the human's maneuvering, failed to act in time. A fatal mistake.
Landing on top of the demon's head, Lazarus aimed Mercy directly down and unleashed a torrent of metal. After several seconds of continuous fire, the Trauma finally gave in. With a final and pained roar, it dropped to its knees and fell sideways to the ground.
As the demon fell, Lazarus jumped off. Right as he was about to hit the ground, Ruin appeared out of the ground and caught him, effectively stopping the human's fall. He retrieved his rifle.
War was impressed – for several reasons. First was Lazarus. He must have exercised a lot of patience and fired a lot of bullets if he brought down that Trauma with only Mercy.
War was also impressed with the fact that Ruin was even working with the human. And it was because of this cooperation that the two had managed to completely distract all of the other Traumas, with only Ruin's speed and agility and Lazarus's usage of Mercy. No small feat.
At least part of their plan was working. Everything had, in a word, gone to Hell. While he had managed to kill two demons one after the other, they were still within close quarters of the entire pack. While Lazarus was performing remarkably well at being the distraction, he could tell that distracting all of them at once was not what he had planned. And eventually, Ruin would no longer be able to outpace the enemy. He had to do something. Now.
In a flash of cerulean light, the Tremor Gauntlet disappeared as well. Bringing up his right hand to his mouth, War gave out a long and shrill whistle.
A little ways away, Ruin, having just evading a potentially devastating swing from one Trauma, immediately reared up on his hind legs, turned, and set off at maximum speed in his direction. Lazarus, surprised with the horse's maneuver, ceased firing. One Trauma gave chase, albeit, it was much slower than the phantom steed.
War jumped off the corpse he was still standing on, and in mere seconds, Ruin skidded to a halt right beside him.
"Uh, War," Lazarus said. "Now isn't exactly the best time to have a powwow."
"Understandable," War said, addressing the human. "But I want you and Ruin to retreat from the battle."
Ruin merely snorted in acknowledgment, but Lazarus blinked in surprise. "What?"
He glanced back over his shoulder, seeing the onrushing Trauma close the distance. Lazarus was just about to protest when he suddenly remembered their backup plan. Turing his head back around to face War, Lazarus merely said: "If you say so," before motioning Ruin to continue his hasty retreat.
Without giving his ally another thought, he focused the entirety of his attention to one specific goal.
It was time to unleash Chaos.