Down in that hideous pit, sat the daemon. Surrounded by dilapidated walls, riddled with claw marks, and her only light being the metallic trapdoor that kept her prisoner. The woman's entire outfit was ruined and torn, exposing an uncomfortable amount of skin with certain developments in her long imprisonment, dirtied with the ghastly state of the pit and dried blood. Her face fared no better, and while the beautiful features still lied there, they were guarded by a harsh frown and a pained glare; complexion blemished by the years. Even so, the great blackened mane of hair that trailed across her body - while ragged - she took care of it best she could. For Laphicet. The daemonic arm? Bound by hasty, unkempt bandages that kept the thirsting appendage at bay.
Suddenly, an abrupt thud and clang reached her ears, but she did not raise her pupils any higher than at what shuffled in front of her. A werewolf. Lowly and weak, providing no strength whatsoever. Just enough to keep her alive. It wasn't even able to catch a glimpse before it was flattened by a giant gleaming claw, while the woman let out a brief and ferocious cry of effort. The canine's face was crushed in a single moment, and its essence became her energy.
Another. A simple catch of her scent sent it into a blind rush, one she honoured to meet. The daemon's untrained paws couldn't even reach her as she slashed its face in a vigorous slam, letting out a yell before back-handing the beast into a now crumbling crater in the broken walls. Like a wolf, she lunged high into the air, and came down full force - rendering its features into scarlet paste. Her horrendous limb pulsed as the blighted energy drained into it, a pleasant feeling filling her chest as an iron taste strangely lingered on her taste buds. She'd grown to become accustomed to such a taste.
As her claw vanished into the pale cloth adorning her arm, a sudden faintness hummed her mind, and her knees trembled in weakness. Collapsing to the ground, the daemon woman could no longer muster the strength to move, even as her left limb shook strenuously against the cracked stone ground.
From that day forward, the world changed. It became a hell, for both people and beasts - possessed by daemons to feast upon human flesh. Her once tender heart, frozen with despair, is only capable of feeling the taste of bloody meat, and the hatred towards that man.
Creeaak
Just like any other time, the trapdoor opened once again. This time, however, a cleanly white dressed woman, embroidered in cyan and gold, fluttered down. Her crimson white-tipped hair laying gently behind her head as she landed, the black eye mask hiding her searching gaze as she leered into the shielding grey mist. With a smash, a bandaged hand streaked out of the fog with a feral shout, and carried the mysterious woman straight into the stone-bricked walls mercilessly. Raising her higher and putting pressure on the face she'd forcefully grasped, the daemon's whole arm suddenly burst into flames. Sneering at the blazing limb, the woman clenched her hand harder and aggressively threw the mystery figure away, to which the woman swiftly reoriented herself and landed with grace. Sweeping her arm roughly, the burning fire on the daemon's arm immediately died out.
"Where is he?" the beastly girl coldly demanded, hunched over and glaring through the blades of hair dancing in her vision.
Uncaring of the threatingly asked question, the woman remained undaunted, and requested answers of her own. "You have persevered in this darkness for many years, feeding on daemons." Seeing this, the daemon grew irritated, and seized the red-haired woman's neck harshly. Still, the woman did not falter at the hostility, "Do you hate him that much, Velvet Crowe?"
The long-dead light in the chilling gold eyes stared into the emotionless mask, an aurous haze of hope falling into her abyssal black pupils. "Who are you to speak? You are his malak," she disregarded. "Where is Artorias?" Velvet demanded again, anguish building in her tone.
Seres' voice now became slightly strained, as the daemon's grip tightened even further; seconds away from potentially breaking her neck. "I can tell you what happened that night." Velvet's grip relaxed. "The ritual he performed, shifted the course of the world. A host of malakhim descended, and with their strength the emergent exorcists quelled the daemon tide. Now, he serves as leader of the exorcists' Abbey, an institution that enjoys the conditional faith of the kingdom and public," Seres spoke in a deluding manner. "A shield to guard the people and a sword against daemons. Artorias Collbrande, the world's savior." Despite her sarcasm in her description, the daemon couldn't hold back the anger of hearing such a title; limiting Seres' air once again.
"With power stolen by tearing apart his family!" Velvet sternly corrected.
"T-That is it for now, we are running out of time. I have broken many Seals on my way here," she attempted to reason as Velvet stared incredulously. "Any Exorcist would easily notice. If you wish to leave this place, there is no time to spare." On the verge of her anger bursting, she once again hurled Seres away from her; the woman landing on her feet for a second time. Looking up, she soon noticed Velvet standing still expectedly, no aggressive motions being displayed. Just the same mean look.
Having been wordlessly given permission, the malak raised her arms ceremoniously with a glistening orange glow from her palms. Above them, a web-like magical rune crumbled in a cloud of sprinkles. With a rusty screech, a weathered ladder trailed down from the shining opening. With a mild clank, it presented itself before the standoffish pair. Placing a hand on her hip, Velvet sighed before making her way up the ruined rungs, her eyes perfectly set on the opportunity she was given. The chance to avenge her brother.
Now having exited the chamber, Velvet had a good look around her surroundings that went unseen for three years. Effectively, what she saw was a prison. Lining the barren and worn walls, were warming candles that she couldn't feel - serving on to brighten the ghastly and dark halls. All that stood out in the unending rooms, were the filthy cells that kept beings like her locked away. There was a dry and earthly scent in the air, as if no fresh oxygen travelled this deep.
Before the untimely duo could progress any further, the gates ahead of them slammed open; out storming four figures in similar clothing to the malak at her side. However, each wore gilded white armour and helmets; seeming masculine in form. Each bore a variety in equipment, spears, swords, and shields.
"Centurion-class Exorcists!" Seres cried in warning, until her palm bristled with a blaze, which she swiped in their direction. One of the incoming exorcists were immediately enshrouded in furious flames, as the others halted and gasped in suprise. Much to her chagrin, the targeted enemy swiped his sword in a practiced wave, as a shower of water burst out from his form, and the burning fire suddenly extinguishing. The opposing exorcists - their comrade now unaffected - readied themselves for the upcoming battle; Seres crossing her arms in front of her, as her hands sizzled with sparks.
"Out of my way." Velvet stated, beginning to walk towards the mass of talented warriors.
"You are a Daemoneater. You cannot defeat an Exorcist," Seres confidently expressed, no hint of doubt in her tone. Velvet raised her arm to the side in silence, and continued her approach, golden glare poised straight ahead in unflinching scorn. Seeing a woman in such a state challenge them, the exorcists looked at eachother in mild confusion. Until the leader nodded, and they fanned out to attack the incoming daemon.
The woman sprang towards them, one exorcist readying his blade to slam down on the enemy, but he never got the chance - immediately being crashed into with a rapid kick that sent him into the air, before Velvet leaped up, placing her hands together and smashed down; sending the man crashing into the dusty ground. Shocked, the other exorcists flinched from the inhuman speed she held. One pointed his staff hurriedly, a fiery arte manifesting on its tip, that fired off with success. Velvet, still airborne, was sent spiralling from the blast - until she instantly found her worn boots their footing on the freezing ground and continued the relentless charge, no hint of damage or pain on her form.
Deep inside, a strange feeling grew that she never felt before, it felt foreign. Her expression made no change, but her mind let out a pleasant signal everytime she dug into their bodies, and they elicited a cry of pain. Daemons were never too expressive, and much to her moral disdain, she enjoyed the sight of the exorcists clawing for options. In their vision she vanished in a single bound of displaced wind, until suddenly one felt a paralysing pain rock his chest, as the daemon's elbow bolted and cracked the ribcage. He seized up as his organs were scrambled, and collapsed lifelessly onto the prison floor.
The final two exorcists paired up side by side, and began their last barrage of artes. One fired another minor blast, while the other's revealed a sickly green coil that lashed out of his staff, as Seres gasped in worry. The daemon still paid no mind, as she batted the first to the side with her arm easily. However, the second wrapped around her limb, tightening and holding her still as the other man kept up his attack. Growing irritated at their constant feeble attempts, her arm violently erupted in a mass of crimson and black; coil arte struggling to keep it in place. With a fierce cry, her daemonic appendage wrenched the attached foe from his place, and swung him harshly into the other. The two were sent roughly into the wall with a shout, and landed in a mangled ball as the dust accumulated on their bodies.
Velvet's claw disappeared in a cloud of bloody mist, as she stood motionless with an unaffected look. Impatiently, she turned to glance expectedly at the watching malak, who stared back in suprise. Not willing to wait, the daemon woman dashed off to continue their escape from the prison.
Exiting the beaten hallway, she came to a crossroads. Seres soon arrived behind her, quickly sprinting off to the left. "This way!" she instructed the woman. Much to her dismay, Velvet immediately took off in the other direction. "Why!?"
she shouted, sprinting back to Velvet's side in confusion. "What are you doing?!"
Velvet, unconcerned with her choice, kept running. "It's the route you took by breaking the seals, right? I'm not that stupid," she simply replied, mildly insulted at Seres' condescending decision. The woman silently stared as she ran, a hint of pride flashing through her thoughts.
Moments later, the pair found themselves in a room decorated in a vast amount of equipment. In addition, two motionless exorcists laid flat on the ground; burns adorning their armour. "No one raised the alarm," stated Seres, slightly proud of her handiwork.
"I can see that."
Scanning the outfitted chamber, she surmised that it would do. "Take what you need from here. While you do, I have some business to quickly take care of," the red-haired malak revealed. Raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms, Velvet waited for the woman to explain, annoyed by the sudden change of plans. "This wouldn't have been an issue, had you not taken off in the other direction. I will return quickly, they are just down the hall." Seres finished, before briskly exiting the room.
'They?' Velvet thought to herself in wonder. 'Nevermind, let's just get this done.'
A ways outside the equipment store room, Seres speedily made her way past the many cells that shot past her vision. Each one she simply glanced over, seemingly searching for something. It didn't take long, however, before she found it. This cell in particular, was no different to any other. Rusted bars, ruined walls, uncomfortable beds. Nevertheless, what mattered was the individual inside. Imprisoned here two years ago, he was found suspicious of daemonhood after appearing in Loegres square, displaying unusual power after attacking an exorcist's malakhim, while having no records of identity.
In this horrible cell, laid a fair young man of around twenty years of age. Atop his head, was shaggy, snowy hair at jaw-length; its sharp locks framing his face - parted at the middle atop the head - hanging over bloodied and torn bandages that seemed to have been worn for years. In addition, he had sharp teal eyes; eyes she had only seen a few amount of times, and a beauty mark hanging under his left eye.
Despite having recided in such a murky and dilapidated prison for two years, he was considered one of the more normal inmates they had recieved, never appearing too sorrowful or anguished. Somehow, he remained undaunted and confident. Amusingly, this demeanour led to rumours of the man having an escape plan, but he simply waved them off with a small smile; "Don't worry about it, you have more important things to deal with," she remembered him politely saying. Other than that incident, he remained stoic and composed, seemingly in deep thought. It was almost as if he had a goal outside this terrible prison. But, what every exorcist knew, was that he seemed to be in poor health condition. He would cough and splutter every once in a while, especially when in the vicinity of a high-class daemon. It was too strange - too human.
The man who slept in the cell in front of her, she knew was no daemon. She'd known even before she had met him, as she could feel his energy throughout the prison. This meant that he was a malakhim, like her. Unfortunately, this also meant that he had spent two years in a prison infested with daemonblight. How he had not succumbed to its influence, she had no idea. But still, Seres had a goal to release him. Even though his power was identifiable as a malak, it felt overwhelming and strange. As if it was locked deep within him.
As she peered through the bars, she noticed the shifting and uncomfortable expression that was on his face, as the man groaned in his apparent sleep. When sweat trailed down his forehead, Seres' palm gleamed another orange, before the target jolted up from his nightmare, a strange reddish glint in his pupils before it faded away. Before she could even speak, the man's eyes zipped to her standing in the openings. "What's the occasion?" he asked in a suprisingly unthreatening and casual tone. His voice was deep and cool, but carried a hidden urgency that confused her. No matter the daemon that rested in this prison, many had a mind to think for its own, just not in the moment of bloodlust.
Similar to the daemon preparing in the room down the hall, Seres prepared to negotiate with the prisoner who led patiently in the cell. "I want to help you escape," she simply said.
In response, the man slowly sat up, and turned to face the woman. Now noticing his scarred slim but fairly built body that only was gifted with baggy worn pants, Seres understood the painful look he gazed at her with. The man that she faced had seen a lifetime of battle and loneliness. But, what she could not understand was how? Where did this person come from to have experienced such torture? After a moment of staring, he finally responded, "Why now?"
Seres didn't flinch, but found she had trouble answering his simple but effective question.
"I've seen you pass by, without even a glance in my direction. A simple malakhim, abiding by the orders of another; no free choice. If you ask me, it looks miserable," he begrudgingly stated. He had all the right to be unsure, the Abbey had thrown what he knew himself as a perfectly normal man to a torture chamber, and locked the gate.
"I understand your denial. But, at this current moment, a prison break is underway by my doing. 'Sarid Barloc', the name you gave us, this is your chance at freedom." Her hands glowed again, and the cell door groaned as it gleamed amber, before shrieking open. His eyebrows tilted up in mild disbelief. "I know you are a malakhim of great potential. You do not deserve such a fate." Now looking to her in increasing concern and suprise, he hummed as he stood up steadily. In silent amusement, she watched as he shakily creeped towards the open gate, waiting for any sort of catch.
As his tattered boots graced the prison floor, he welcomed the warmth given by the lit torches adorning the walls. His lips were parched, and his throat yearned for something to drink. The smell in the halls was dank and discomforting, and it pinched at his lungs everytime he inhaled. It was like opening an attic after decades; completely unpleasant. "So, do you mind if I ask your name?" he bluntly asked.
The woman politely smiled and introduced herself, "I am Seres, ex-Malakhim of Artorias Collbrande. Pleased to meet you." She wouldn't dare say, but the woman was pleased to meet someone fairly normal on her endeavour. To baffle her even further, Sarid placed an open hand before himself. He wanted a handshake. With another pleasant smile gracing her features, she shook it courteously, and he beamed right back.
"Nice to meet you Miss Seres, I'm Sarid, but you already know that," he greeted kindly. It may have been strange, outlandish even, to be so positive in such a situation. However, the man has been given a new purpose, and meeting an actual living 'human' being after so long gave him some comfort.
"So, you're the Shepherd's malakhim, huh..? Interesting. Do I want to ask why you left?" he said impassively, his tone exuding a strangely relaxed demeanour as he let go.
Seres, having explained it once already, didn't wish to again. What she was more interested in, however, was the man's attitude. "For participating in a life or death situation, you're suprisingly calm."
A flicker of emotion passed by his dark irises, his pace slowing only for a moment as he reminisced about that night. "So, a little Exorcist survived..." "You Exorcists deserved it!" "Save our future." He breathed out slowly, as the trembling in his hands soothed. "Let's just say, I should've been dead a long time ago. Now, however, I've got something I've gotta do," he ominously expressed, before speeding back up to match with Seres'. Before long, a mysterious weight was exerted on him, as he flinched slightly, and the dreadful air felt heavier. The red-head at his side didn't even pay a glance at the occurrence, but she knew immediately what it was as they neared their destination.
"I've broken many seals in order for this escape to happen, but we are quickly running out of time. So, I hope you can fight."
"Not a problem. Although, I would prefer to grab some weaponry first," he stated confidently.
Seres nodded assuredly in response, having expected for this. "Perfect. There is an equipment room just ahead, that should contain everything you need," she said, forgetting to mention one important thing.
As they approached the hefty door to the store room, Sarid approached first, slightly suspicious of the aura that emanated from within. Gripping the metal handle and pulling upwards; the door lifting into the ceiling, and he began to carefully enter the now darkened area. Seres suddenly remembered, "Wait! There's something you need to kno--" she was unfortunately interrupted.
A gleaming blade shot up to the male malak's throat, stopping him in his tracks, as a particularly fiesty and wrathful daemonette emerged from the blackness. "Who are you?" Velvet coldly questioned, her anguished glare boring into Sarid's surprised look.