I still dont own dxd series, or the dark souls series.
Finding a weakness, the twins quickly pushed their lean legs against the grass forcing themselves towards the two.
Ni and Li had once felt the power behind the spear, they would not feel it again, if they were to become victorious.
So it is that with a sidestep, they avoided a direct overhead strike. The lightning that surged away from the spear weakly reached towards each of them, lacking the raw voltage to catch either as they moved further away. The wolf that had been watching carefully swung herself so that the curved sword would catch the red haired feline, already knowing what Tristan would do.
Tristan turned to his right, and together, they sliced their enemy. Lightning in both methods, one more painful the other. Li was washed in blue.
With a communicative bark, Tristan was informed of Ni's lack of death. With his momentum, he pivoted on his feet until the spear brought lightning to the remaining feline's body. Now wreathed within power, Ni was covered in particles of blue.
Or maybe they would not become victorious. There was no improvement at all since the last rating game against him, or at least, none he could feel. Then again, devils all carry inherent weakness to any form of faith, but when manifest as lightning, the highest form of belief, the damage is severe. Of course a blessed weapon could achieve similar results, but could not paralyze, should the devil remain alive.
"Nyaoo-" Ni quietly attempted to go against justice. Silenced.
The animal and the squire shared a look of accomplishment, and proceeded onto the next target.
The devil in the sky was too nimble for a spear, and it's existence itself demanded attention once it came alive, so she was left to the nimble, more agile wolves. They could do extreme things no normal wolf should be able to accomplish. There were a few already acting to take her out of the skies.
Their coherent grunts and growls bounced in Tristan's mind.
With a scouting gaze across the main arena of battle, the squire read his situation. Just as sister taught him.
There, the half-masked devil, of who's mind the darkness of doubt had been placed, hunched over, with a hand on a deep wound on her lower leg. Just beyond her, an impromptu kill squad of three inched slowly over the earth, closer each passing moment. All her twitches meant to place distance were overwritten when the set of paws landed on the grass and dirt.
Tristan turned away from the situation, catching their tails bounce to the air as the cornering became an execution.
'I'm sure he would be proud.'
He knew who all myth-wolves strive to become like, even dare to dream of succeeding.
Only one would stand beside the squire in his road to dragonslayer. Likely his little orphan, if not one of his current guards.
Tristan was so gifted with animal interactions.
The squire's set of eyes landed upon a pair of wolves forcing a devil in a handmaid's outfit into the trunk of a tree. When he leaned sideways a little, he was met with the sight of a similarly dressed devil who's upper body was shadowed by the feral grey wolves who feasted on her flesh, for at least a little bit.
Soon enough the both of them transformed into the flock of blue that is the transport spell. An allied wolf from the scene looked around curiously, before eventually meeting his face with one of readiness, even with a paw to the side of the head. This one had caught up with the times of the modern world.
The eyes of the friend next to her darted around everywhere, bloody face and jaws made trivial with the long sloppy, dopey tongue that sloshed across her black lips. Her eyes met with Tristan's, and she retrieved her sponge for re-salivation. A moment would pass, and the same pink thing returned to it's duty.
Looking childish, and tilting her lips into the wolf equivalent of a happy smile.
Together they disappeared into the green brush, leaving Tristan to stare at a soulless patch of grass stained with blood.
A 'hyah!' of exertion urged the squire to turn towards an open area of grass, detailed with Xuelan going against the ways of justice.
She scraped her flaming heel across the soil of earth in a circular motion forming a circle of flame and discontinuing a grey wolf from her motives. The first to capitalize came from behind her, the dexterous devil brought the scraping foot through the air. She went out of line when her leg skimmed across the wolf's fur.
The airborne wolf surprised the devil, landing on the ground before Xuelan could bring her whole leg down, and turned on her front legs from a low stance. One that affiliated with a legendary knight of Gwyn.
The curved sword within her jaws breezed through Xuelan's lower legs, and her eyes scrunched in pain. When the devil began to launch her foot down, she was overturned by a mass of grey from behind. Sealing her interactions in the duel.
There are currently thirteen devils within Riser's peerage, including the grand traitor himself. The wolves reported the defeat of each devil they had felled, together with the Tristan-guard, the body count equaled to that of twelve.
Leaving only the king himself, and the flying devil.
The same flying devil who had been holding back, due to the risk of friendly fire. Of course her spells had a large radius, one that encircled the battle arena of flowing grass. Now without risk of danger, but more importantly to her, an order from her king willed her arms ahead. The arms had been limp in boredom from the beginning, unable to detect the presence of the forest-dwelling wolves and only able to watch as her useless teammates take only a single wolf out of combat, at most three, at the cost of the whole melee fighters. She laughed at the situation.
If Yubelluna could show her king her powers once more, then his attention should be on her tonight.
Her robed arms became the center of an array of magical explosive circles, powerful enough to exert a high whining, similar to that of a teapot's raging, caged steam.
A wolf's claws dug into the midsection of a tree, spurring her to the top, where a co-operator would allow the wolf the glory of a kill. Only, it would be a shadow of ecstasy compared to a true kill.
Yet still, the look of 'I'm about to die!' on their faces as they were transported away was akin to that of victims who really died to them, however few the count was. With the expansion of operations, the number would only climb.
Yubelluna lit up with anticipation of her spell. The thin final magical circle spun wildly as opposed to the other static rings.
When she looked down on those standing on the forest floor, she was nerved that they remained as if she didn't exist, more intent moving towards the final enemy.
Since Yubelluna was as good as defeated in the wolf's paws.
Within the span of a second, the climbing animal reached a tall branch, spying her sister balancing expertly as if she was sitting on flat ground. Sister turned to her, expecting an answer. Being the brave wolves they are, the myths leaped through the leaves that hid them.
Halfway through the evening sky, the two had reached an impasse. This was planned, easily rectified.
The younger sister planted her soft pads on the elder's furry backside, retracting the claws for obvious reasons. She leaned in close to her, and her legs had come through successfully.
The younger sibling darted through the air explosively. Thick, razor teeth lined her pink jaws, open and dripping with anticipation. Her long, fleecy ears lowered to muffle as much of the whining spell as possible.
An immobile devil too caught up in her ministrations. Easily asking for death to befall.
They sunk when she clenched tightly, staining the tooth in blood. Yubelluna screamed, losing focus and allowing the spell to destroy itself, the seperate rings dispersed into little nothings.
With only a smattering of control, she remains afloat. Up in the skies where the raving wolves were not. The younger wolf had left her curved sword behind, instead, Yubelluna's side was the new sword. Sword meaning victim for now.
Despite the burning pain she felt from the bite, the devil felt a surge of something that began to erase her from the inside.
With the burning and her supposed removal from existence, the devil began to fall. Luckily for her, she transformed into a flight of bright blue specks. The squire looked on like an ant admiring a dragon, coveting something that he will never obtain. A double-pat from the back nearly pushed him over, and Tristan turned.
It was the panting wolf, the one with the dopey tongue that seethed innocence.
If only the smeared, faded blood had been cleaned properly, she would.
The wolf had reared onto her hind legs, her head easily reached his chest, and her long front legs reached onto his shoulders after he turned.
"..hm?" Sonorous as the tone was, it retained the kindness for animals, and the rare others.
Successfully stealing his attention, the panting wolf fell back into her natural form, and pointed her snout to a bright area.
There, furiously moving about like a madman trying to scrape his fist against any wolf. The clenched fist is concealed by a corruption, the Phenex's inherent pride twisted into a power for the squire to thieve.
The gank of wolves ceased to a dormant circle once Tristan stepped closer. His sword and sheathe stuck to his leather belt, the knight's shield was strapped to his wrist, with the point facing outwards, like a true knight of the first lord. The left hand held the faithful charm, and the offhand glowed a dim orange.
A distorted grin smeared across his lower face, and the pyromancy flame combusted into a dark-natured fire.
Riser's knees bent, feeling his hands become deleted from existence, his blue eyes, cloudy in anticipation of defeat shot to them, discerning the cause.
The dark fire that had stolen his strength, that had taken advantage of his inheritance. It started to wisp away into the pyromancer's direction. Dark stretches of flame inched into Tristan's enflamed hand, as the wolves watched on in amazement.
BLACKFLAMEBLACKFLAME. THATMEANSNEWGAME+BICTHES
The whispers of legend began to come alive from the hand, existing only within the reaches of Tristan's thoughts, as well as Riser's, ignored by the wolves for the beauty of the dark fire.
In the far future, a debilitating encounter takes hold.
A giant grey wolf held her dear friend's sword, it was the first sword that he wielded. The one he had on him when he had so benevolently cared and nursed her to health. The elementary straightsword had become enlargened to fit her jaws, against this enemy, it was required.
It was more than a weapon however, there were several scars on the aged blade. Eria remembered all of them before the sword was put down in place for a true knight's weapon. Eria did not care if the weapon of silver knights was more honorable, what mattered most was the treasured memory that this one was present in.
It was the most powerful memory of her dead savior, his shield had been lost in a battle, his original charm tattered and fell apart from constant use, even his armor had been broken into pieces. In truth, she would have taken everything in his possession as hers, to remember him the most, since nowadays, appraisals for the knight were rare.
The giant wolf teared up at the memory of a most precious person in her life. Her loss specifically.
Taken by a force he had been ordered to subdue, and felled with an underhanded ambush of a devil army. With just the two of them, her friend had made a sorrowful request.
'...Please, Eria, be...safe.' His outstretched hand held her snout, rubbing slower each agonizing second.
Even if centuries had passed, she could hear the same whispers in her dreams of him. An honorable wolf had fled with the speed of a lightning spear. She didn't ever want to leave his side. Eria wanted to die together with her knightly friend, fearing an existence spent alone, but something within her compelled her to move on, to ignore the devil spells if she could just escape.
The knight had cast his own miracle onto her, a protective barrier that nullifed all forms of magic. Written and formed by his own hand, the spell itself retained a message for her, as a final task.
Eria found herself following this mission, to sate the emptiness that her friend had left behind.
It was the task that brought her to arms against the human-sized form in front of her.
Shaking her eyes from the tears, Eria's teeth clamped tighter into the hilt in memory, the grey wolf burst ahead, imagining her knight in his squire days running with her into battle once more.
Hey.
Are you crying?
Well I am.
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