The sky was black.
Not a typical night black, not 'the moon has risen' black; a shifting, black smog. It hung above the world gratuitously, merely an example of the hold despair had on the planet. No holy light could pierce the vile mass of violet and ink, all that shed a hint of warmth across the globe was a blood red moon. It bore into the very earth with hostile intent, the crimson glare coiling around the dying foliage and dried mountains. Even the dark smog curled around the moon's edges like crooked fingers; twitching and shaking against its visage.
This world was dying. It was all because of her.
Every blistering gust was crudely cold, and the scent of death clung to the breeze's invisible shoulders. Desolation was a fitting name for their home after seeing what has become of it. Unknowing, the very soil choked and gasped for any sustenance - even when the stormy rain fell with thunderous force - it only poisoned the nutrients that crawled through bubbling rivers and streams. Only the cities that rallied against this violent force could breathe. But, was breathing through lungs of smoke and blood really living? Many 'survivors' would tell otherwise, as they scraped for any sort of resources to prolong their dreadful lives. The dead were the fortunate, and they whispered sweet nothings that brought more and more to the other side.
However, out in the plains of Midgand, a storm was brewing. The storm reeked of sharpened metal, blood, desperation, and malice. It was hope. Unfortunately, hope was the first step to disappointment. And, the soldiers that marched up that day with weapons to take down armies and magic to block out the Sun, did so with fear and cowardice.
She could smell it from miles away, and it disgusted her.
Out in that barren wasteland, were hundreds - maybe thousands - that prepared themselves to fight in the name of their failing world. Masses of weakened Exorcists that rallied their forces to take down the one who had started it all: The Lord of Calamity.
And she sat there, a daemon, staring down every trembling one without a hint of worry in her mind. The cloak of malevolence that shrouded her form comforted her, as did the contorting darkness that weighed her down; consuming any remnant of humanity that was potentially left in her soul. Her mind seethed an unrelenting storm of controlled rage and feral wrath - and her left arm rumbled in anticipation. The air was bland to her, the salt that wafted in the wind leaving no impression on her tongue. All she felt was the harsh dusty amber rock where she sat unfazed, and the dark garments that carried a thousand memories.
The mass of people, humans, before her eventually stilled - and the atmosphere started to hang over them in a noisy silence. The clouds of twisting shadows manifested over the soon-to-be battlefield. Drops of glistening sweat accumulated upon many faces, and dust scowered their vision. A clench of a weapon, a silent prayer, a wince and a tremble. Then, a huff emanated from the figure of shadow, where only two gleaming vermillion eyes contrasted, until she rose from her casual position. The Lord of Calamity began to approach the army of Exorcists, long shaggy hair - as black as the blight that veiled her - swaying gently. Step. Step. Step. Step... They still did not move.
The daemon started to sprint.
All she heard was a single yell from the opposition, building saliva bursting out, and then the gargantuan stampede dashing out at full force. All she could hear then, was the screams of dead men.
The two forces charged one another, with only one being the supreme victor of this bout. The first attack already told them how outmatched they were. The Lord of Calamity burst through the initial charge immediately, sending countless bodies scrambling into the suffocating air. Exorcists a plenty couldn't even catch a glimpse of their adversary before their body became a bloodied mess.
The daemon plowed through the force with ease, and upon slowing for even a moment, began to dispatch the weaklings one by one. An unfortunate soul caught a devastating kick, shattering his ribcage and sending him reeling into an incoming group. Another immediately had a powerful swing of his weapon dodged and was hit with a punch that cracked his skull and plowed his body through the dirt. Clenched teeth and trembling faces jumped back as another had his neck broken in a violent roundhouse kick; soon becoming a stepping tool for the daemon to jump off.
She landed in the centre of the Exorcists, as they glanced around in confusion - her speed too fast to keep up with - and the shockwave blew back the trio that were in the way. Two were smashed away with a beautiful dance of kicks, while another soldier lunged - only to become a filled body bag as he was spun around in circles and thrown away like forgotten garbage. More and more came, and even more fell. She was a snake; weaving a trail of broken men in a path of blood and shattered equipment, as efficient punches and kicks displayed her overwhelming proficiency. A visage of darkness cloaked any smidge of a person they could see until a single blow was all it took for them to sleep forever.
Irises of glistening crimson scanned the field, searching for its next prey, before she suddenly disappeared in a blast of wind; unseen by the a thousand eyes. Death spanned like a spider's web, and the daemon's flexibility and agility trumped any damage that could be made upon her.
Immediately, the darkened shape took form again, and another Exorcist was taken when a blade erupted from his armoured abdomen. Like a sack of potatoes, his body was dumped to the floor in a heave of gore as the daemon was assaulted by the horde again. The razor sharp blade sang as it carved through the enemies like paper, metal the length of a longsword poised from her wrist and lashing out with deadly intent. At last, an echoing reverberation was heard as the Exorcists finally utilised their main proficiency. An azure magic dart, pulsating with power, blitzed out from the crowd at the lone figure's turned back.
It was insufficient, as the Lord of Calamity held out that same blackened hand behind her, and caught the dart. It wasted no time in displaying a corrupted red as a smoky crimson leaked out from under the wraps. This occurred at inhuman speeds as the controlled magic was thrown with immense force back at the caster. An explosion rocketed out, and the screams of pain were music to her ears as a blinding smoke rushed in from the blast.
A dance of death reigned under the cover of shouts and fog, knife blades slotting out from the daemon's boots amplifying her cartwheel of destruction; bodies siezing and limbs parting as she dashed through her targets. No mercy in every single attack. Slash, crack, snap. Every remaining human fought with all they had against an unstoppable force.
CRASH
A high-ranking Orderly was nothing in the face of calamity as an unyielding heel kick flattened him straight into the floor. Midair, the daemon's two legs lashed out at the two assailants at her sides, ending their lives, before falling right onto the still disabled exorcist; wrist blade facing no resistance in its penetration as his throat bubbled. Through the smoke and dirt, she came barrelling in a spinning star of steel, flying over lines of soldiers with fountains spouting from their necks. Slam! As the strong ground caved in from her clenched fist, stunning reinforcements which quickly fell under her performance.
All they witnessed was a glint before they fell into darkness, a single opponent cleaving through hundreds of men without difficulty, and the rocky floor exploded with power. Many fell in fear at the sight, and welcomed the quick death she gave. The ones who fought died in insurmountable pain from the one enemy they couldn't even see.
As the aftermath faded away, the bodies could pave a road for the hell this world was headed for. But still, they tried. Every one of them fought and died for the vain hope that their world could survive. However, the daemon that exited that cloud without a scratch killed any they had left. Still, they tried. One Exorcist, daggers brimming with lightning, performed swing, after swing, after swing, after swing in vain; his sharp snowy hair bristling in the wind of fate. He blitzed from place to place, thrown knives as markers for every vanish, with carving winds to lacerate this being of the underworld: scarring earth. Even as the superhuman hand gripped his throat, and her anguished words came out like the voice of the devil; still, they tried.
"Fall."
Snap
Divine energy careened towards its target, its impressive control evident as it weaved in-between each dire onlooker, and proceded to strike true. The strength blew the Lord of Calamity far back, clear from the devastated army, and sent her spiralling into a kneeling landing as the surrounding dust kicked up violently.
Immediately, moral rose greatly as the first strike appeared hefty and significant. However, it did nothing as the daemon stood up from her position and stared back at the attacker; unimpressed as she flayed the dirt from her shoulder. The Praetor glared defiantly, hands wreathed with immense magical energy.
The Lord of Calamity's left hand rose up to mouth level, palm facing skyward and open as she once again stood against the powerful tide. Steadily, her forefinger and thumb were placed together, and a candle-like flame grew from the tips. The shadow that hung over her expression lifted slightly, and exposed the most chilling sight the exorcists could have seen.
She smiled.
Suddenly, the daemon woman blew on the mild flame, and a giant cloud of spitting fire spewed outwards in a monstrous wave. The growing storm clambered towards them like a hungry beast, and wasted no time in smothering the front line forces. Their howls of pain and the smell of burnt flesh floated on the crisp winds that delivered the message to the edges of Desolation; 'help us'. But, they knew they were all that was left.
Awed at the sheer scale of such an arte, several exorcists wasted no time in performing what they were there for. A miriad of water runes manifested in the air, and soon the destructive attack slammed right into their magical shield. Suprisingly, it held. But even still, the force was tremendous, and the exertion of such artes left many exhausted and out of combat. Just more lambs added to the slaughter.
Soon, both attacks yielded and a great cloud of vapour enveloped the damaged battlefield, once again rendering the Exorcists blind. And, being an inhuman beast such as the Lord of Calamity had its uses. Under the veil of what they created, the shadow of their adversary appeared in the mist; and giant balls of fire rained down from above their very heads. In the mass of confusion and mayhem, the daemon's partners appeared at her wrist and boots, yearning for blood.
Therefore, her dance began again.
~~~
Countless bodies lay at her feet, and soon became the stepping stones for even more to fall. The crimson staining her blades irritated her, and the sea of exorcists seemed unending. Every one of them threw their lives away for a planet that no longer wanted them, for a world that felt they had failed. What was it that kept their hope alive?
As she felt the satisfying crack of another wretched soul resonate through her fingers, her mind came to a simmering standstill. A resounding leap was suddenly performed as she jumped far onto a singular pillar that overlooked this brutal warfare. The daemon could see the humans stumble around like insects under her gaze, rushing over to the piles of the fallen she had left behind. She became disgusted at sharing such a world with them. Sharing such a world with the ones that ruined her life!
She would show them how fruitless their 'hope' is.
Raising her left hand up, the Lord of Calamity's face scrunched up with immense rage, and let out a roar of a million words that threatened to pierce the heavens. The surface of darkness prickled with licks of vile crimson, and so the skin pulsed with sickening energy as darkness seeped from its orphices. Suddenly, the abnormal flesh burst open with a disgusting crack and squelch; a demonic claw of gleaming vermillion broke out of its vessel. Like an animal, it hungered - shaking with energy waiting to be released - palpitating with bloodlust. This was what they feared, the symbol of the Lord of Calamity.
Upon its reveal, the blackened area changed. Smog of violet and crimson sank deep into the claw, and the very sky shook and trembled. The shifting forces above accumulated overhead the powerful daemon, vast amounts of potent energy being unleashed from her body. It came in waves, dispersing among the surroundings and creeping into the environment itself. Somehow, the continent was completely disturbed by her sheer power - as the land itself quaked in fear.
The Lord of Calamity grinned, as her corrupted pupils shrank in anticipation and wrath.
The claw slammed shut.
"Desolate Cataclysm."
Gasps of shock and despair echoed throughout the few hundred that remained, weapons clattering to the ground, and Exorcists falling to their knees. Thundering clouds of pitch black seperated as the colossal earth arte shook the foundation of the planet, and darkened the faces of those who bore witness.
A behemothic meteorite, larger than the whole battlefield, dreadfully fell towards the poor victims that stood in terrible disbelief.
That marked the end of the Battle for Desolation, beginning the reign of the Lord of Calamity, and truelly starting the End of Days.
~~~
This is the tale of the Lord of Calamity, and her crimes against humanity.
Not too long ago, the world was at comfortable peace; villages and farms working day by day for produce, ports transferring valuable trade across the unsailed seas, and cities of stone walls coming to the aid of any who needed it. It was an Age of Divinity, and the world known as 'Desolation' wasn't seeming so bad. Until she came.
Without warning, the fabled Lord of Calamity began her path of destruction from island to island; killing any in her way. Even the most powerful of Exorcists fell with ease under her boot. It soon became evident that she had gathered servants of darkness from across the globe. A daemon swordsman, a witch, a corrupted malak, a pirate, and a traitor. Every one of them followed her orders without question, or so we thought.
Gradually, they drifted apart - and the Lord of Calamity was left alone again. There are many rumours of what caused this, some speaking of betrayal, others of weakness. Who knows what terrible things she may have done to her subjects?
One thing is certain, and that is that she only became more ruthless, and our forces could not last against the daemons that now pounded against our walls. Everyone knew, it was her doing. We all knew it was the end after the defeat of our great Shepherd. So, here we are. About to fight an insurmountable battle in world of ruin and turmoil. All I want to know, is why?
Maybe that is something not destined for me to know, but for whoever discovers this writing - may the divine guide you in this torn civilization - and find the answer.
Signed, the once faithful Exorcist and Legate of the Abbey,
Kami Barloc
The teenage boy folded the worn note with a heavy heart, the slight droplets of rain cascading down his face, and marking the paper akin to tears. He could still make out the remnants of ash and brimstone mark his senses, the toxic sensation tickling his nose as he approached the dampened cliffside. Despite his awareness, all he could focus on, was the soothing taps of freezing rain skate across the large leaves above him. No animals were in his vicinity.
Eventually, the foliage broke out to reveal the sight that would carve itself into his mind forever. Rolling black clouds of everlasting thunder, towering pillars of amber rock trailing the plains, and the humongous crater that expanded across his vision. It instilled a chilling feeling that his blanched trench coat could never warm, and the weather could never overcome.
This was all that remained of the Battle for Desolation that occurred a year before. The battle that truly equalled the end. All that warmed his soul, was the gentle simmering anger that coursed through his veins. Knowing that the beast was still out there, while humanity's defenders were long reduced to ash in that crater.
He stared up into the blood-stained heavens above, which held their gates closed for so long - and allowed this devil to crawl up from the Netherworld and tear out the heart of this planet. Unflinching, as the acid rain stung his light face and hissed against his cerulean irises, and that crimson glow hued his blanched strands. Every second his life continued in this atmosphere, he could feel it. The mysterious darkness that covered the skies penetrating deep into his body, delicately sapping his strength. Even the black face mask that covered his nose barely stopped the blight creeping in. It was the price he paid in being half Malakhim.
This world was once one of adventurous fantasy, filled with magical creatures, ferocious daemons, and unnatural spirits. One very creature were the Malaks, spiritual beings that mostly resembled the humans that dwelled on this planet. Every one was conjoined to a particular element that reigned over this world; earth, water, fire, and wind. The specific element he was connected to was fire, inherited from his mother who had died just after his birth.
Stifling an itching cough, and ignoring the ache that pulsed from his bandaged forehead, the boy shook off the negativity that invaded his mind, and stepped away from the horrible graveyard. He could feel the water seep into the white strands of his hair, but paid no mind, as his goal was now elsewhere.
Loegres, the jewel of the Holy Migand Empire. It was going to be a short journey.
Waterlogged mud squelched underneath his lightweight boots, splashing dirty dying liquid onto them. He did not glance downwards, as he perfectly retraced every step made to venture out to the memorial ground. As quiet as a mouse, he creeped through the dangerous wood - ears strained to catch any unnatural noise; rain, rustling, streams, growling...! 'There!' With immense speed and experience, his shoulder-strapped broadsword was unsheathed with a clean screech, the weathered steel finding no trouble in cleaving through the air.
Wind dispersed from the force, and flora swayed in silence. There was nothing, no target, no physical resistance, nothing. And still, did the visage of an uncanny skeletal daemon shrouded in tattered clothing materialise at his side, before swiftly collapsing into the ground. Dead. The boy was already walking out of sight, sword sheathed, as it fell.
Even while knee deep in enemy territory, did the boy's memories crawl back into his mind.
"Father!? Where are you, Father!?" Sarid could imagine himself shouting, the cracked cobblestone seeming unending as his home burned down around him. "Father?! Are you here!?" That same toxic ash coated his tongue, the burning sensation awakening his senses more as the scent of death wisped through the wooden walls. "FATHER!?" He vividly could recall his frantic searching and scrambling, discomforting tears building as he clutched the last remnants of his father. Two metallic knives he used while training; styled after the kunai of old.
He never found him that day, and he knew full well where he was. Out there, fighting for his life in a battle he couldn't win. That was the last time he ever thought about interacting with a human. Sarid didn't have a choice, anyway. There were not any left.
His muscles bulged and pushed against the durable vines, tearing away a messy path to his goal while succumbing to the pain his memories carried. Every single person left was gone, friends, family, everyone. No matter how he swung his weapon it couldn't bring them back. But, he could do so in their name. Only one more enemy needed to stain their blood upon his sword before he could rest, and he would make his presence known.
Collapsed damp wooden gates creaked under his weight as he stepped over them, most likely having been crushed under the force of a giant daemon. Immediately, a violent rotten smell attacked his nose, the suffering of the city's inhabitants obvious by the mess strewn around the broken streets. Pieces of medieval buildings, segments of people unfinished and waiting to be consumed, or decompose. Sarid didn't flinch at the scene, he was all too used to it. Climbing the stairs was the difficult part, as the burden he shouldered kept him down, but visions of getting a chance at revenge pushed him onward.
He wasted no time in reaching the central plaza as the storm grew heavier, and the ruins of a life long behind him stared back. It was deathly silent, and it threatened to rip the air out his lungs on the spot. It was heavy. The potential he wielded. He could feel it every waking minute, pulsing throughout his veins and pumping the energy to his heart. On the other hand, the dark infesting the very molecules themselves locked it away, and shut the cage. It took monumental will to gather the droplets of such power, and wring the energy through his gloved fingers.
It crackled with wild intent, unfocused and unrefined. Nevertheless, he made his way steadily to the centre of plaza, and raised his hand upwards. The white lightning jolted across his arm, spitting and hissing.
'This is for you...'
Bang!
Like a gunshot, a beam of silky energy blasted off into the shifting skies, its milky colour lighting up the area for only the briefest of moments, before the darkness consumed the light once again. At least, it was enough. Sarid smiled sadly, only inching on a frown, as feral howls and screams surrounded Loegres. Here they come.
From all over, monsters of varied appearance clambered over one another to reach the shining light, like moths to a flame. Even as the liquid rained down fiercer, and clung to his jacket, dragging him down - Sarid did not falter. His blue eyes glared right at the stairway's precipice, waiting for the first to appear. Steadily, his hand creeped up towards his broadsword's rough handle; palm coiling around it, waiting to lunge.
Snap
The slight splinter of wood alerted him, but he did not move. The blood moon challenged his stoicism, daring to even flinch at the approaching death. Sarid barely blinked, sharp eyebrows furrowed. The storm shot more droplets, thundering rain assaulting the area, aggressively attempting to disrupt his focus. It matted his hair, causing strands to hang over his eyes. He did not blink.
He let his body fall, as an animalistic claw, covered in fur, sailed above him. Without hesitation, he placed his hand on the floor for stability, and crushed its snout with a perfect kick.
Howl~
Shiiinnng!
His blade stretched out and glinted in the crimson rays, lashing out and parting a werewolf in two that sprang from the shadows. Upon his retaliation, the beasts lurking throughout the city streets and buildings rushed out in blind hunger. The surge of darkness spurred his head into a haze, but it did not stop his metal from carving art into these living canvases. His mind could barely comprehend the variety in daemons that attacked him that night; serpents, werewolves, giants, fireballs, zombies... Every one presented a new challenge that his sword's edge attempted to slice through.
Even when a pair of claws grabbed his crossguard, and flung the weapon into the blood-lusting horde, it did not stop his fists from beating in every wrong he experienced into their skulls. Even when his knuckles were bruised and bleeding, it did not stop his legs from springing out to crack a few bones. Even when his muscles ached and skin bled, it did not stop his artes from roaring out in every single way he knew to disintegrate a disgusting creature.
It was over before he knew it, and when his shoulder screamed out in agony as ridged canines pierced his skin, he realised his end. It was what he was here for, just to take as many bastards as he could with him. But, he knew something was amiss when the tearing and devouring of flesh was not from his body, but the daemon on top of him.
There he saw it, tightly gripping the werewolf that had the intent of pulling him apart, was a pulsating vermillion claw, attached to the arm of the devil herself. Sarid quickly felt the once powerful beast that lunged on him, now felt weightless and sickly. He couldn't wonder for long, as suddenly the husk was wrenched from him and thrown away like dead trash. Her grin that bore down on him was that of a predator. It felt wrong, how she stared at him like a piece of meat - and if the stories were true - that was all he was right now.
"So, a little Exorcist survived?" The voice that came from that shadow was dripping with venom, and stained with mischievous intent. It shook him, the mania that emerged from her core, every instinct told him to run. Alas, he stood his ground. This was exactly what he lived to see, what he lived to fight, what he lived to kill. That was until she held out his broadsword, handle facing him.
Nevertheless, he didn't hesitate in forcefully snatching it from her hand and jumping back away for distance from the threat. That was when Sarid abruptly noticed the lack of daemons taking advantage of his unprotected side. Each and every one of them present in this plaza cowered away in fear of the entity before him. Despite not even looking, the two cold and emotionless crimson eyes sent a clear enough message; do not interfere.
Adjusting his grip in trembling hands, and body slick with sweat and water, Sarid could barely make out the cloaked figure in the pouring rain. All he could use to identify them, was the smell of blood and fear, along with the large gleaming claw that twitched from her left arm. In the blink of an eye, the pulsating mass disappeared into a shrouded unnatural hand, as black as the void. A sound that resembled a huff exited from the ghastly daemon as she placed the wrathful hand daintily on her hip, "Alright, enough shaking, let's get this over with." The boy couldn't even comprehend that humour came from this monster until she viciously sprang at him.
The Lord of Calamity was going to kill him.
Pulling together the fragments of his mind, Sarid dashed to meet her, already planning ahead from the predictable feral leap she performed. As they met, he ducked and skirted his blade right across her open abdomen, immediately scoring the first hit in their bout. However, he had no time to celebrate, as he scanned his steel for a hint of blood; only finding wisps of darkness. The amused chuckle that echoed in his ear right behind him stilled his body for the briefest of moments, until he pressed his hand down on the ground swiftly. Still, it was enough time to turn and suffer a tremendous kick across his face, sending him flying into a neighbouring fountain. The sheer power completely winded him, and he immediately felt his slippery grip on his weapon leave his palm empty.
Fortunately, Sarid was no rookie, and it took him no time to grab his blade while laying down. It saved his life, when a careening animalistic yell signalled the potentially fatal attack. Now, all that seperated him from the ravenous hand that yearned for his flesh, was his only metal that steadily grew weaker and weaker. His eyes shakily peered through the two dead ones that stared back at him, causing his conviction to waver by the second.
"W-Why?" Sarid whimpered under her strength, "Why did you do this!?"
The Lord of Calamity was clearly taking her time in the killing, even while she answered his desperate final question. "Because you Exorcists deserved it...!" the daemon hissed, moments away from snapping his sword like a twig.
'Deserved it...? They... deserved it!?'
"Deserved?!" he incredulously asked. "Good people, innocents, one's who had no part in your 'war', did they deserve it?!" he aggressively questioned, anger pouring into his soul. The sudden exclamation stopped the daemon in her tracks ever so slightly. "You have no right!" Sarid shouted, before the body that the woman held down suddenly vanished from sight.
'He... disappeared?!'
The daemon woman growled as the unexpected disappearance caused her to leap away briefly. Scanning the freezing haze, she noticed the boy standing not too far from her, enshrouded in the bullets of water. The boy did not let this chance slip away. He leapt forward through the veil and, blazing weapon in hand, finally began taking his chance at the Lord of Calamity. He slashed vigorously at his enemy, in which every strike was dodged and outmanuevered. Sarid then flipped over the daemon to attempt a back hit, grasping her shoulder for leverage, but as the slice whirled around; nobody was there.
Smash
The white-haired teen felt a severe impact blow into the back of his head, but he did not yield to his wounds. Spinning as fast possible, he aimed a piercing stab to skewer the formidable opponent. Until suddenly, the same demonic hand caught the blade's edge without issue. "Enough of your toy!"
Snap!
Sarid's broadsword was split in two.
"D-Damn you‐!" the boy couldn't even finish his insult, because he was immediately hosted up by his collar, and violently slammed into the harsh stone ground; pavement debris flying out from the crater. His shouts echoed throughout Loegres, as he was abused without mercy.
Sarid could already taste iron from the pool forming in his mouth when he was thrown away like a forgotten toy, as his torn up mask blocked the waterfall of blood. Being discarded would be the best case scenario, but being alone for almost a decade would warrant a certain amount of enjoyment from finally interacting with someone. Therefore, it was obvious the Lord of Calamity was nowhere near finished. Peering through glazed eyes told him enough, as he could see her casual saunter towards his landing zone. So, he put his final plan in action. Weaving his hands in a variety of ways in front of him, he took a deep breath, and blew; a silvery mist flowing from his mouth and smothering the area before him.
The Lord of Calamity inwardly scoffed at the arte sent in her direction, knowing it would at most give him a single second, still, it was no easy feat. 'Smart kid. No wonder he survived this long.' The woman was not threatened in the slightest as her vision was directly askewed from the dark veil - nothing she wasn't used to. Suddenly, a shape materialised in the smog, which her heightened senses had no trouble catching. But, to her suprise, all she managed to catch was the shattered remnants of his useless sword. A sword he had thrown. 'Which means...!"
From her blindspot in the impermeable cloud, appeared Sarid, unarmed but not weakened, his palm leveled directly at the Lord of Calamity, as a cerulean orb of violent energy appeared and began to spiral the smoke around its vicinity.
Forcefully prying the floodgates open, his power came rushing out in an uncontrollable tidal wave, and out of his rapidly heating palm. Slamming the arte into the daemon, worry bubbled in his mind as the orb did not react.
Holding it back, was the woman's dark left palm shoved back against his - an ache immediately shooting up his arm as he vainly tried to push back. In seconds, he fell to one knee, and the arte gave in to the pressure. In a torrent of light, the ball burst and a fierce blast of mana flooded the surrounding plaza.
Sweat trailed off of his face at immense speeds, similar to the rainstorm that has stopped only moments before. His last ditch attack rattled him, causing his heart to desperately pound against his ribcage in agitation, and ivory to trail out of his revealed mouth. Already, the scent of burning and iron filled his nose and his eyelids weighed that of a dumbell. His outfit was ruined beyond repair, and his trusty blade was out there, crushed and destroyed. Crouched onto the devastated ground, he heaved with effort. In his hand, sat a distinct knife he had placed before his attack - a triple-pronged kunai with a mysterious inscription upon its handle. A gift from his father; keeping him safe from the grave.
He should feel pleased, ecstatic even, as the monster had taken that explosion point blank. But, every inch of darkness in the area weakened his resolve and burdened his muscles. Especially, because of the mass amounts of it forming in the wake of his attack that left the area covered in a thick smog. 'Of course...' he inwardly groaned.
The misty cloud exploded and dispersed, as she still stood there. Without a scratch, and angered beyond belief. All his energy had done was unveil the person behind the miasmatic cold mask momentarily; only catching a hint of pale skin and a glimmer of gold. He no longer had time left to ponder as that demonic hand seized his throat instantly - tight but not deadly. Stretching his eyelids as much as possible, he could only see the ghostly pale skin of a young woman, and a haunting veil of overgrown black hair that shielded her expression. The last and only thing he would remember is that devilish smile until his consciousness floated off to oblivion, and his body went limp.
The Lord of Calamity rose a singular eyebrow as the man fainted in her hold. 'I didn't grip that tight, did I?' Shaking her head with mild vigour, she proceded to lick her lips as her demonic hand shook with anticipation.
Slam!
A mysterious golden staff suddenly penetrated the floor next to her. She could only spare a baffled glance prior to a booming voice that rocked the skies of Desolation.
"CEASE, LORD OF CALAMITY!"
A wave of powerful water magic blew across the city, sending the daemon reeling. At a moment's notice, four seperate beams of coloured light surrounded the plaza. A strange occurrence to anyone else, but the daemon knew exactly what had arrived, and slinked back to her lonely shadows with a grimace.
The scepter was surrounded in peculiar white energy, as it started rapidly spinning while rising into the air. Sarid's unconscious body and his unsheathed dagger rose along with it. Four strange voices began chanting in perfect unison.
"I speak to the Heavens above, to the one's we abandoned so long ago. The curse's substantial influence has wrought your victory, and the cleansing shall commence. However, we, the Empyrean's of this world, forsake our fate. Our emissary is chosen, and presented with one task, 'Save this World'.
"This man will grow to become a warrior that will assist in shedding light upon our world again. But, we shall not be there to see it. He now carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, and will show you that coexistence is not out of reach.
"Please, save our future."
Sarid Barloc, even through his lack of consciousness, would forever remember the words that were engrained in his psyche, as he was transported back to where it all began.