A/N: I am sorry that it has been so long since my last update. With this latest piece comes the end of this story...No just kidding, but it will end this first act, or stage, or what have you. Please let me know what you think.
Death, Sisters, Beaches, and Family
Miria didn't have much time to think, she had to act quickly before things escalated any further. "Helen," She barked, arresting the awestruck Claymore's attention. "Get Deneve to safety quickly, then find me!"
"Fuck you...I'm fine," Deneve shot back as she stood to her feet. "We have to stop Clare."
"And what does that mean?" Helen asked, addressing the obvious issue. "Even if we could...Are either of you prepared to..."
A quick moment of hesitation passed as all three considered what might be the only outcome to stop Clare. "It hasn't come to that yet." Miria shot back, immediately discarding that solution. "First we have to catch up to Clare."
The buildings quaked and the ground rocked beneath them. They all snapped their heads eastward as Riful erupted above the homes of Rabona. Her tendrils snaked through the air as she looked down around her.
"Shit. This complicates things." Miria sighed in exhaustion.
"Well at least we know where Clare is now." Helen stated sarcastically as she handed Deneve both of her weapons.
"We have to at least get them outside of the city before they bring the whole place down." Maira commanded, turning back to see the towering abyssal one of the West.
"There is no chance in hell we can stop either one of them with strength alone." Deneve stated in her usual cold tone.
"Who's your money on?" Helen asked in jest, looking at Riful clear across the city. Deneve immediately shot back with a glare that would make most evacuate their bowls. "It was a joke." Helen retreated as she simply looked at the ground in shame.
Miria gritted her teeth in frustration as she knew every second she spent thinking up some half-assed strategy innocent people were dying. She hesitantly looked left and right as her mind raced to think of any solution, any plan that could somehow stop the torrential bloodbath that would soon consume the entire city.
Deneve slowly walked towards the tentacled behemoth, sheathing both her blades as she ready herself for a sprint.
"What are you doing?" Miria commanded.
"She stopped for me...earlier..." Deneve craned her neck back towards her friends. "Clare could've ignored me, and chased after that bastard, but she stopped to save me...she knows." But before either Helen or Miria could object, the former fifteen shot off down the street hoping to catch up to the fight.
Helen stood with jaw slack as the dust from Deneve's wake settled. "What is she thinking!? She is only going to distract Clare and get herself killed in the process!" Helen yelled in protest as Miria halfheartedly listened to her concern. "God damn it Deneve." Helen swore under her breath as she too blasted down the streets after her friend.
A gentle hand rested upon Miria's shoulder frightening her at first. "Save them..." Father Vincent stated softly. His garments were dusted and his body etched with cuts and bruises likely from his continued efforts to rebuild Rabona. "I fear I have brought this upon us."
A look of shock and confusion waved across Miria's face as she found it hard to believe. "What are you talking about Father?"
"She is about to lose the only thing that can save her from what she has become." Vincent sighed deeply as if he was shouldering an overwhelming burden. "I have told her once before, and the same is true of all of you...all of us."
Miria offered a raised eyebrow to Vincent's words as she continued to listen silently. The man of faith smiled in disbelief as he gently placed a hand on her chest. Out of reaction the Claymore drew in a shallow and concerned breath.
"It is here, as I told Clare only days ago." Vincent firmly planted his palm forcing Miria to brace herself from falling back. A look of fear cascaded across her face; it was an inhuman amount of pressure that he so effortlessly applied, catching the seasoned warrior off guard. "This...this heart is the temple of your humanity. That is your weapon! No sword, no beast, or monster can withstand it. Not even in the smallest measure could it hope to overcome that power!" Vincent's voice began to grow and rise. "It is with that humanity that you fight! Clare knew this and is fighting with all that is within her to save what she has left, to save you."
And then it struck her, it was obvious. They were all that Clare had left now, her sisters in arms. They were her source of strength, the strength to fight not for yourself, but for the ones you love. To have something so precious, this friendship, this sisterhood is a force greater than any one foe could hope to overcome.
"Now, go! Save Clare before she destroys herself and this city!"
"You're confidence is misplaced." Clare growled as her rage began to boil over, intensifying her already luminous figure. "You have foolishly wasted my mercy."
The abyssal one of the West stood unaltered by Clare's words. Her mistake. Without hesitation the goddess lashed out with uncanny precision and lethality. Every movement of her blade sliced and cleaved with perfect execution and flawless brutality.
Riful felt the searing heat of her opponents blade rip her many tendrils to ribbon. Each cut sent immeasurable waves of pain throughout the bundles that composed her body.
She returned fire, whipping hundreds of tendrils through the air hissing and cracking them as they tried to hit the glowing being.
Riful began to fear the worst as she could hardly keep up with Clare. Every time she evaded her numerous attacks it was met with a crippling counter attack. A flurry of strikes from her searing claymore left her body ablaze and apart. She could not keep this up too much longer.
Deneve gave little care to the frightened citizens that zipped by her as she sprinted full heart down the streets of Rabona. She had to do everything in her power to help her friend. She understood that more now than ever. Clare had saved her life before but this time Deneve finally put it together. For so long the organization had taught them to rely on their training and their own strength to defeat the yoma. That is why they worked alone. A unified banner of Claymores that fought together like their Seven Ghost, was a dangerous force.
The organization had tried this before but only because defeat was the only outcome for their warriors. Pietia was their testing ground to see the Claymores capabilities. It was what the organization had feared the most, that their pawns would start to think and act on their own.
Deneve quickly put those thoughts aside as she rounded a street corner to see the behemoth Riful lashing out wildly at Clare.
The twin sworded warrior smirked as she saw that her concern was a little less desperate than she had earlier feared. It was almost unfair. Clare zipped from building to building slashing away at her foe as she passed by, leaving on a trail of carnage and torn flesh.
Helen finally caught up to her friend as she too saw that the situation wasn't as dire as they thought. But before either one could breathe a sigh of relief Deneve spotted a cloaked figure just below the mess that Clare was making of Riful.
"Helen." Deneve pointed as she grabbed her friend's attention.
"I see him." Helen stated firmly. "The bastard's not getting away with him."
"You go around to the left, I'll go straight through the middle." Deneve remained focused on Ermita as she drew both her blades and lowered herself for the charge.
Helen didn't even bother with a reply as she too gave her utmost attention to the cloaked man. She sprinted as fast as she could running along the walls of the buildings. She jumped and dived between the ground and the wall as tendrils snaked in every direction hoping to cut and cripple anything they could grab.
Five, four, three, two, one... Helen quickly counted her steps as she calculated the distance left until she could hit her target. She blasted off the wall with a powerful leap. Her sword leading the way as she flew through the air. And just before her blade was about to pierce Ermita's exposed back a wayward tendril smacked her to the ground. It quickly snaked itself around her body squeezing tightly around her frame as it nearly crushed her rib cage. She would've screamed in pain if she had any air left in her lungs but no cries for help let out as the tendril squeezed tighter around her throat.
Deneve was only a second behind Helen as she scissored her way straight through the middle of the fray slicing lengths and bundles of Riful. A few more strides and she would be in striking distance of the coward. Her pace remained steady and her right arm readied for a killing blow that would cleave his head from the rest of his body. Deneve's other arm slashed wildly with a furious speed keeping her path clear before her. It was as if she was carving her way through dense jungle vegetation, cutting and brushing aside all the overgrowth. But as she cleared another swath of tendrils she spotted her friend helplessly suspended above the ground.
"Helen!" Deneve screamed as she stepped left, forsaking Ermita's assassination.
The twin bladed Claymore leaped from the ground racing to cut her friend free from Riful's grip. One swing freed her neck from being twisted in a quick snap. Immediately Helen drew in a deep and labored breath as natural color started to return to her face.
Deneve only kissed the wall of the building behind Helen and quickly rocketed off to make another pass to completely sever Riful's hold. She crossed her blades in front of her, readying to swing her arms out to each side, but before she could, a blunt force rammed her side sending her completely through a building next to her.
Helen watched as Ermita finally got his bearing straight. He quickly glanced at the battle above still awestruck by Clare's incredible speed and power. But he refocused his attention looking straight at her dire situation and chose to capitalize on Deneve's rescue, buying him a few short minutes to escape.
Miria was confused by father Vincent's words but she didn't have time to contemplate his meanings. She blitzed down the streets dodging debris and innocent bystanders, trying to catch up with her comrades.
Another quake rocked the very foundation of the city almost sending Miria to the ground as she stumbled ever so slightly. She swore under her breath at herself for not being faster. She needed to get to her friends aid, and she needed to get their now. And with all her speed she suddenly planted her left heel in the street tearing through rock and earth.
Dust rose skyward blocking out the sun as the deafening screech of her halt echoed through the city. By the time she had come to a halt her left thigh was completely buried in the dirt. And she couldn't have timed it more perfectly, there in the middle of the street before her she saw the chaos unfolding.
Miria's heart nearly collapsed as she spotted Helen entangled and fighting for her life. A quick thud and a plume of smoked spilled into the road as she saw Ermita deliver a blow to Deneve.
"HELEN!" Miria yelled at the top of her lungs.
And as if obeying her wishes the violence stopped. Riful, Clare, and Ermita all turned to see the captain of the Ghosts standing at the end of the road. Her face was without hate or malice, her eyes were near the brink of tears. She stood their almost as if defiant to their actions. It was easy to see that at this moment Miria just wanted it all to end. All the fighting, all the hate, all the careless loss of life had to stop.
Something within Clare shuttered deeply as she saw Miria standing there. She hadn't even noticed Helen until now. That is when she realized what she was fighting for. Yes, she was fighting for the one she lost, but more importantly she had to fight for what she had left. She had to fight for her sisters. And in front of her now were the two monsters that took their lives and the lives of countless sisters before her.
A potent rage grew within Clare as she saw her friends dying around her. She would not allow another person to be harmed by either of these two ever again.
Her raging eyes locked on to Riful as she began a solemn yet deliberately hostile walk, stopping directly in front of the Abyssal One. She tightened her jaw and gritted her teeth as she slowly lifted her eyes up to Riful. "I was wrong." Clare growled as she continued to focus solely on the former Claymore. "You deserve no mercy!"
An unearthly heat surrounded that street corner as the winds kick up around them all. The city grew dark, but not a cloud in the sky loomed over. The air acquired a toxicity that seemed to burn as it forced itself inside their lungs. It was as if the ground on which they stood was about to become damned.
And suddenly the luminous goddess before them began to grow brighter. She levitated with an easy grace arriving just about the height of the rooftops around her. "You have butchered those which you swore to protect. All of those sister you killed just to construct your army. And to what end!" An explosion of immense power rippled from within Clare causing everyone to flinch and cower from her. "No! Today their lives will count!"
A volley of sharp hisses zipped through the air as dozens of burning spectral blades rained from the sky burying themselves in the ground and buildings around Riful.
Miria jumped as one of these sword crashed next to her. It took her a moment but as she recognized what it was, a chill coiled up her spine.
Next to her was Katya's claymore, her emblem glowing with a deep red pulse upon the white luminous spectral steel. She quickly pivoted around viewing all the swords surrounding her. Nearly fifty of her sister's weapons surrounded them now, all fallen by Riful.
"It is over." Clare bellowed as all the blades turned and twisted where they lay. Every hilt pointed to Clare making it simple for her to grasp each blade, almost as if they were beckoning her to wield them.
It may have been that Riful was too proud to admit her imminent demise or that she truly was ignorant to all that was about to unfold. In either case Clare left her little time to react.
She blasted forward cutting and slashing away at Riful's tendrils as she passed. Her focus was unbreakable as she found the core of the monster's being and violently buried her blade within. The abyssal one recoiled in pain and turned in time to see the goddess land on a roof next to her for a moment. In less than a second she grabbed another Claymore and blasted off the roof again slicing and carving her way to Riful's core.
Another scream erupted from the beast as the claymore dug deep into her. Quickly a third, fourth, and fifth blade were each grabbed and each honed in on their target delivering a lethal blow.
It became clear to Riful that she could not win this fight and she was now fleeing for her life. But before she could even move a volley of claymores bombarded her, piercing her many tendrils to the ground.
Helen fell to the ground as Riful's grip loosened, but she continued to lie there and again bear witness to Clare's tremendous power. Miria, Ermita and now Deneve watched with morbid bewilderment as this death played out before them.
At first Riful reacted violently to each blade as Clare drove them into her body. She twisted and shuttered at each stab as Clare continued to zip by from every direction, grabbing blades and burying them into her foe. But as this ruthless brutality continued Riful's strength was completely drained. She slumped over on herself as most of her exterior had been sliced to thin fibers and ribbon.
"No, I'm not done with you yet." Clare bellowed as she dug a claymore through the top of the monster head and shoved the blade down until it exploded out of her jaw and into the ground securing Riful firmly to the earth.
Riful was utterly defeated, her dying body was nailed to the ground with the sword of those she had slain with equal savagery. In mockery Clare squatted next to her and grabbed her chin forcing the monster to look at her.
"Get up!" Clare growled.
In a swift in brutal motion the goddess grabbed Riful's head with both hands and spun around violently before releasing her into the sky like a discus.
Riful's flight was truly something to behold, racing to the heavens as she almost disappeared from view at the top of her ascent. But gravity soon overcame her and began to pull her back down to the earth.
Everyone stood in awe of Clare, but her focus remain skyward. Miria finally gathered the courage to say something, but before she could the goddess rocketed from the earth as well. Her flight was swift and short as she came to a stop just above the city, her figure now tiny against the vast sky behind her.
She floated there above the city for only a moment as weak glowing lights began to emit around her. They started dim but soon began glowing brighter and brighter. And suddenly more and more lights began to surround her. They began to number in the hundreds upon hundreds if not thousands. Like the night sky, they outnumbered the stars.
"She is fighting for us all." Miria mumbled as she clearly recognized each light.
It was all of her sisters, all that were. Every fallen Claymore from every generation surrounded Clare. Though their souls not present, Clare did not need them, only their swords.
Thousands of spectral blades filled the sky of Robona and with the command of her hand they all, in unison, pointed to the heavens, towards Riful.
"Your death will be for the ages!" Clare roared with a thunder that stretched across the entire island. And with the same might of her voice she blasted off skyward her claymores followed only a moment behind her. They bolted across the sky to meet their falling foe head on.
Clare raced with all might as the figure above her began to grow larger as she drew closer and closer. And then their eyes met. It was only for the smallest measurement of time but that was all that was necessary. When Clare looked at the behemoth in front of her she didn't see the great abyssal one of the West. She saw that small Claymore, that little child she used to be. And Riful was afraid, gripped with fear, that is what she had been reduced to, a frightened little child.
Riful knew she had breathed her last as she locked eyes with Clare that instant before they clashed in the skies above Rabona. Her end was unlike anything seen in the world before.
Miria saw one flash above her as Clare led in with the first swing of her blade. Less than a second later it grew into a cascading display of light and deafening thunder as each blade took a piece of Riful in its wake. And as the last blade passed by with its light they all in unison turned again to face what was left of Riful as she continued to plummet to the ground.
Clare couldn't hear anything but the deafening noise of the air as she dived down to deliver the final blow to Riful. She remembered all of those who had died without cause, she remembered the first time she encountered this demon. She had inflicted so much pain upon her own sisters. She remembered Jean down in that pit, chained like a dog. Turning her into a monster, wrecking her body with pain and malice, hoping to turn her against the organizations, against her comrades.
She could see all the swords around her, drawing closer to her, joining with her in this final charge to vanquish evil.
A peaceful inhale just as she drove her own claymore into Riful's heart.
The resulting collision shined brighter than the sun, forcing everyone to shield their eyes from the blinding light. The incredible energy exploded in the sky creating a shockwave that ripped across the island tearing down trees and leveling weaker structures as it passed by.
The immense heat set the skies on fire over Rabona. It cooked the stone and burned everything along the rooftops of each building. Birds in the air were forced down to the earth or simply died from the concussion. Every creature ran or cowered from the power displayed in the heavens above that city. What was left of the city was now completely gone. All the occupants of Rabona were knocked to their feet and now almost the entire city lie in ruins.
Miria finally opened her eyes as she slowly stood herself up. She could not see a thing, it was now darker than before as dust and debris filled the sky, blocking the sun. She coughed as dirt climbed into her lungs.
"Helen! Deneve!" Miria cried out to her friends.
She couldn't hear anything, only the vibrations in her voice box as she continued to yell to her friends hoping that they were not as deaf as she.
The captain slowly fumbled ahead, or what she thought was straight ahead, as her head throbbed from the immense concussive blast. She slowly scooted forward through the dense gray fog, searching with her feet in each step. The Phantom counted forty-three paces until she finally began to see a figure forming on the ground just before her.
"Helen!?" She yelled.
She was face down and not moving, but as Miria kneeled down next to her comrade her spirits rose.
"Ouch..." Helen groaned lazily as Miria rolled her over to check for any injuries.
"Are you hurt?" Miria asked worriedly.
"Are you not?" Helen moaned back as she slowly sat up, checking herself too.
Miria didn't bother with a reply, knowing full well that if Helen could crack a smart ass remark, then she was fine enough. The former number six turned to where she thought Deneve should be and began to slowly and blindly search around.
A loud thud snapped her neck in one direction, but she quickly disregarded it as she heard Helen swear. She too fumbled as she tried to stand on her feet.
A strong breeze passed through the streets lifting the dense haze little by little. Soon Miria was able to see the edges of the streets and the copious amounts of shredded Riful covering the ground.
A muffled voice fell on her near-deaf ears and the captain of the ghosts turned sharply to its origin.
And there she stood, as healthy as ever. Deneve seemed to be an unstoppable force that just never quit or even faded. She took everything that the Yoma and the organization could throw at her and she still stood tall. It became more apparent now to the leader of the ghosts that Deneve needed to help her than the other way around.
The short haired Claymore quickly slung Miria's arm around her shoulder and began walking the Phantom back to Helen, who was still on her ass complaining about pain.
"You two stay here." Deneve stated as she gently placed Miria down next Helen.
The former number six half-heartily raised her hand in protest but that feet was more challenging than she thought and quickly resigned her complaint.
By now the dust was almost clear and visibility was just below normal. Deneve quickly leaped to the only standing structure left on the block. She slowly panned the roads before her, looking for any fresh tracks on the newly fallen dirt. It was difficult to determine any orientation of the city. All the buildings had been blown down and the once proud Rabona was now an ocean of rubble.
"Did you see anyone?" Miria questioned as Deneve leaped back to the ground before her.
"No sign of Ermita, Raki or Clare. And it might be sometime before we do." Deneve stated reluctantly as she gestured to the vast destruction around them.
He ran as fast as he could stopping only for a moment in a small hamlet many miles from Rabona. He knew full well Riful did not stand a chance against such power and decided to make his escape while everyone else gazed upon her death. He didn't hesitate to grab the healthiest looking horse from the stables as he made his quick theft. No one in the village spotted him until he let out full speed down the highway, the hooves from his newly acquired horse clapping loudly.
Ermita mulled over the events he witnessed as he bobbed up and down with each stride of his steed. It was a mixture of fearful awe and excited discovery. The power they thought they had created with the Claymores had so much more potential than any had ever expected.
The senior member of the organization argued with himself. It was a question of whether or not the power he saw within Clare was an exception never to be seen again, or that this power was dormant within all the female warriors. Obviously the latter was a little more remote of a possibility, but it still made him feel uneasy.
He was determined to find out the source of this power and he had a good start on where or who to investigate. He quickly glanced over his shoulder to make sure his bindings were not coming undone. Raki was secure, but the load was heavy and Ermita calculated that he would have to get another horse before he could reach the organization.
The black sands grew darker as the evening sun was just a few moments from its final descent below the horizon. The northern shore line of the island was predominately etched with high cliffs and sharp rocky shallows. But where sandy beaches could be found it was here, with black sand, rich in minerals from volcanic activity.
This was Hector and Olivia's favorite stretch of beach front. They had walked these sands many mornings and evenings. It was time to relax as they had just come off their long trade routes shipping salts to the interior cities of the island. Now they had time to enjoy their home and the vast ocean before them. The beach was bare, they thought they were here alone.
Hector grabbed his lover's hand as she nearly stumbled from the rising tide. She laughed genuinely as she fell onto his chest. It was one of those moments she had imagined for many weeks before. being alone with him, leaning on him, having his love. But as she looked up to gaze upon his eyes she found that his attention was else where.
A spike of concern rose within her as she saw a grave look in his eyes. "What is wrong?" She questioned anxiously.
His eyes squinted and remained focused. "Someone is out there."
"So, stop staring and let them be." Olivia's demanded in protest.
"I think something is wrong." He replied as he propped her lover back on her own feet. "Stay here."
Hector ran down the beach carefully placing each step around the sharp shells that dotted the sand. With each stride it became clear that this person was in trouble.
She was naked and cold to the touch as Hector kneeled down next to the woman. "Hello? Are you alright?" He gently turned her head left and right looking for any signs of life of on the woman. Hector brushed her wet brown hair aside to get a good look at her face. The woman was a stranger to him which was unusual. He knew most all of the families in the area and not once had he ever seen this woman before. He gently lifted her eyelids to reveal a pair of beautiful but lifeless green eyes. A small groan escaped her lips as he tried to sit her up from the rising tide.
"Olivia! Get Catherine out here now! Go quickly! I will be right behind you!"
It had been five long days of searching and shifting through endless piles of debris. Miria had seen more dead than living during their rescue efforts. She felt partly responsible for the devastation and pain that had been wrought upon the innocent people of Rabona.
On three separate occasions she spotted a hand or saw a pair of eyes looking back at her through mounds of destruction and discovered that she was too late to save them. And still no sign of Clare, Ermita, or Raki. She was beginning to think that they would never find them, dead or alive.
All of this senseless loss of life was beginning to takes it toll upon Miria's soul. Each rotting and mangled corpse brought her one step closer to losing her mind. She needed relief if only for a few hours.
Looking both left and right for a way to escape this pain she spotted Father Vincent aiding another victim of this terrible tragedy.
"Father." Miria called out as she approached.
The old man smiled as he saw her walking his way. "Miria, I wish we could meet and converse under better circumstances," He gestures at the ruined state of the people and the city. "But it seems we always find each other in the darkest moments. But please, You look as if you have a question."
"What did you mean when you said that you brought this upon us." Miria questioned, void of hostility.
The old man sighed deeply as he dropped all the papers in his hands. "Just a week ago I explained something to Clare that I believe may have caused her to intact the atrocity that she inflicted upon us."
Miria only offered a curious eyebrow at his explanation.
The old priest chuckled sarcastically in disbelief as he rubbed his sweaty brow. "We are creatures of both evil and good. The fact that you or Clare are half Yoma has nothing, absolutely nothing to do with what we saw her do the other day." The old man plopped down in the streets from exhaustion as he continued to explain himself. "I know you are aware of that power, you felt it from me, an old man with very few years left to live. Do you know what it is that I speak of?"
"I think you are-" Miria tried to explain, but Vincent raised his hand to her.
"I did not ask what you think you may or may not know." The man of faith simply shook his head in disappointment as he gestured towards Miria. "Please help me up."
Miria responded without hesitation, but as she grabbed his outstretched hand an overwhelming power surged between them. It was not Yoki aura, it was something else entirely. Its potency was a hundred fold anything she herself could muster.
"This is not a thing that I can simply teach you or even tell you." Vincent paused as he released his grip on the frightened Claymore. "I told Clare the same thing I told you. She was able to discover that power within her, but her rage and malice was loosed at the same time causing the destruction you see before you."
Vincent walked the short distance to the cathedral ushering Miria to join him. She obliged, following the priest up the scarred but grand steps to the place of worship.
The stagnant air rushed past as they opened the heavy wooden doors. The furniture had been toppled and a thick layer of dust coated the ground. But for the most part, the ancient structure had remained intact.
A quick sidestep around a broken candle stand, and a small shuffle across the main foyer led them to his private quarters.
The place was a wreck, but that was mainly due to recent events. Vincent carefully brought forth a small wooden box. There were no engravings, not even a seal on the wood to keep it from aging. Only a small wax crest bound the lid, it too appeared to be very old. It was obvious to Miria that the contents had remained undisturbed for quite some time.
"Please, open it." Vincent asked kindly as he handed it over.
The Claymore did as instructed. The only contents was of a single sketch. It had aged horribly as dust and other fine particles had disturbed the charcoal etching along the paper. It displayed three young men standing next to each other like good friends against the yellowed paper background.
"You know all of the people in that portrait quite well actually. The one in the center is a younger and more foolish version of the man standing before you." Vincent explained with out stretched arms. "We used to work together some time ago until we had a falling out of sorts. The one to my left you have met from time to time. He fancies himself some kind of mysterious puppeteer to you Claymores. He is my first cousin on my mother's side, his name his Matthew, but he always liked to be called Rubel. The one to my right is my younger brother, you know him better than I do, His name is Ermita."