Thrusting the gates open with a slam! The disgusting odour of torn flesh and withering bodies consumed their nostrils, as the vile tendrils of daemonblight stretched across the large hallway en masse. Grimly, bloodied remains of the once steadfast and innumerable exorcists and knights were lay to waste among the cracked foundations; treated as trash dotted along forgotten barrels of decomposing and devastated resources. Groaning and snarling monsters paraded the hallways ahead, the scent of iron on their claws and bored into their teeth.
Rokurou hummed with dispassion but also a hint of expectancy upon taking in the chaos around. "Hmm... Looks like there are daemons inside as well." Placing a sarcastic finger upon his chin, he levelled his gaze upon the pirate that scoured the opposition. "Don't tell me Eizen," he began with a mock face of astonishment, which quickly broke into an amusing grin. "You're the source of Daemonblight?" he questioned fiendishly.
Unwilling to take the inquiry as a joke, he tightened his gloves and glowered upon the danger that reeked from every corner. "Nope. It's just our bad luck to be around when it spread," he explained with a downcast grimace. Eizen shoved his hands in his pockets roughly and stepped forward, "This is what it means to walk with the Reaper. You only have yourselves to blame," he spat with honesty.
"It works in our favour," Velvet suddenly inputted, balling her fist with conviction. "The enemy won't be capable of an organised response."
Rokurou decided to step in with his opinion on the matter, twisting the supposed awful situation in their favour. "And we're a small group. Our mobility will be an advantage in the chaos," he reasoned with a rub of his chin.
Lastly, Sarid walked over from viewing the destruction ahead, "That also means less combat. Less combat means a quicker escape, and that saves your crew from getting banged up as a distraction," he added with a flip of his knife.
Eizen was silent under all of this, until he hummed in thought.
"So, Eizen. How do we open the sea gate?" the ravenette questioned as she placed a hand on her hip.
"The controls ought to be located at the upper part of the gate. We'll activate them, and then send a signal."
"Got it. To the top of the gate, then."
The group began their trek forward through the mass of gore and rubble, carefully encroaching upon the end of the hallway. And, all the while Number Two stated silent at the rear; taking in the ravaged ruins with an expression of interest and sorrow. Until, he felt a dreadful pin drop into his mind's lake of peace. Ahead, a visage, shimmering cerulean creeping around the group with ghastly scowls and hostile clicking. His mouth opened, and as he finally pushed to alert the group...
Slice
Thud
The azure form faded away, and the disparity of the ghostly hall fell as a cloaked form collapsed in a convulsing heap from the heavy air. This wraith was ever silent, as the blackness where its throat remained seeped with sinful violet. The boy's orbs of viridescent shock rove among the group, until it laid eyes on a shuffling of blanched hair, and Sarid flicked his blade back into its place with a wink and a shhh motion. Number Two's eyes widened upon already making a mistake with his job, but the assurance of such a person reaffirmed him; causing the young malak to hobble along at the group's heels once again. Vision now picking at the very veil of every displacement in urgent alertness.
The splintered wooden door groaned upon its hinges, the trembling of secure stone secreting dust upon the torn ground, until they were blown open by a rush of wind and a battered body. Eizen stomped onto the lizardman's face aggressively, grinding its scales to a savage paste as the group emerged from the carved hallway; a divine mix of flames, flesh, blood, and earth wafting from the remains of the room. Stepping outwards, the edge of cobble was abruptly reached as the gleaming surface of beautiful waters reflected their ragged appearances.
Casting their gaze out among the shining cerulean, the great Fortress bore down on them. Walls of great stone erected upon either sides from afar, reaching potentially thirty or even forty stories high. Masterfully crafted architecture spouting engraved curves reaching down from the ceiling like an oversized church. In addition, settled along the simmering teal depths that remarkably contrasted the bloodied devastation around, was a grand ship rocking with the very slight bob of the water's waves. A tremendous wooden warship, outfitted in the Abbey's noble shades and laid out threateningly across the innocent surface. This only meant one thing, the distraction wrought by the Van Eltia had only drawn in most of the fleet. Rokurou was the first to catch sight of the intimidating shape that swayed along the far off dock. "Hey, not all the ships left," he stated, narrowing his eyes to run over the vessel's impressive hull.
Eizen's fist tightened as he immediately recognised the daunting but currently passive adversary. "A battleship. Not good," he murmured cautiously.
Walking along the ridged outcrop in search of a method to reach the higher levels, the sheer scale of such an fortress lingered irritably in Velvet's mind. Spanning across the entire straight, the sea gate blocks off all who may enter unless permitted. Its construction of such overwhelming power the Abbey had reached in such a short time, malakhim were an easy solution to show their dominance to the people. Work them as if prisoners, and no one would bat an eye. The curse all malakhim live with today. Tools to be used, and broken when it's necessary.
The planked walkway that partly scaled up this great fortress groaned slightly under the daemon's angered thudding footsteps, as the group followed it to a ladder that allowed them to continue their ascent. Moments later, after continuing up another, they clambered up to a room with three doors on each side to enter. But, before they could inspect these different orders of travel, another problem got in their way. A helmetless knight desperately scrambled in their direction, face stricken with fear from whatever he appeared to be running from.
Slam!
Until his approach was suddenly halted by the pirate's fist planting into his cheek and knocking him soundlessly to the blemished ground. The group blinked in surprise at his abrupt and wordless action. Without another look, Eizen stepped over the dazed man and inspected the trio of doorways, thoughts running through his mind over the layout of such a fortress. Until, one of solid metal caught his eye. He approached with an analytical eye in silence, before the several locks bound upon its centre caused him to sigh in annoyance. "This door should lead to the gate, but it looks like they've got it locked up tight," he assessed crudely, as Velvet's approaching footsteps caught his attention.
Squelch!
She hadn't used her true form in a while, but as that familiar rush of freedom and crackling of flesh burst out of its uncomfortable vestiges, she tensed it firmly and eyed the door. Upon the sudden reveal, the pirate's eyes widened in shock for a moment, until he stepped off to the side with a slight bow; giving the daemon free reign to break down the locked door.
Clang
As the talons lashed out against the harsh material, and a ring broke out from the clash, all that appeared was the sharp claw marks trailing its seemless surface. The door stood strong. "Well, brute force is out," she said in disappointment.
"Intruders! How dare you set foot in our domain!"
The two turned steadily to look down upon the knight that struggled up from his downed position, shakily regaining his footing as he scowled upon the group that gathered at the door.
"Where's the key?" Velvet sternly asked with a frown.
As the knight heaved in his place, gripping his chest tightly, he hardened his voice and forced out his conviction. "I am a proud knight of Midgand," he asserted, untroubled by the ravenette's impatient look as he ranted on. "I am not about to yield to the likes of petty daemons!" Velvet's eyes lidded, and she stepped forward threateningly as the man stumbled back in shock. Until, a gloved hand splayed out before her approach.
"There's nothing I hate more than someone trying to control the direction of my life," Eizen grunted sternly, stepping towards the man as he spoke. "My wheel is mine to hold." The knight's teeth were tensed in suppressed fear. The pirate's boots slowly crunched upon gravel as he steadily walked, "If I'm not the one steering the ship, then I'm not truly alive," he growled out with a glare.
"The one steering..." Number Two quietly repeated.
Desperately searching for an ounce of bravery within his quaking soul, the man straightened his back and stuttered out his challenging response to the pirate. "I-Indeed! And my entire life is devoted to the defense of this fortress!" he yelled, furrowing his brows.
Eizen sighed in annoyance, before stepping even closer to the stubborn exorcist. "Then you'd better be ready to accept all that happens to you in the line of duty!" he sternly stated, before whipping the back of his hand across the man's face, spinning him around as he stumbled. Gripping his hand behind his back, Eizen pulled the knight over to the wall and pinned him against it, pushing his face against the chilling stone as he struggled. "I think it's time we found out how deep that devotion truly goes," he goaded threateningly. His force on the man's hand tightened.
Snap!
Painfully, the knight writhed with a cry of agony under the malak's overwhelming strength. "Take it easy," he cruelly mused. "There's nine more fingers to go."
The man's expression broke, and from his tongue trailed the words Eizen had wished for. "W-Wait! The key is in the control room, through there!" he cried out - begging - as shook his head to his left where an unlocked wooden door sat unattended.
Funnily enough, the pirate groaned in disappointment as the knight quickly spilled the location of this valuable piece of information. "One last question," he groaned, pushing his hand against the man's back with even more force. "Which way to the battleship?"
"Straight ahead! Up the stairs!" the knight breathed out roughly, shaking his head to his right.
"Got it..." Eizen darkly accepted, gently letting go off the man's wrist.
Smash!
Before slamming his head into the wall violently, dropping him to the ground completely unconscious. His armoured figure clattered to the stone floor like tin, while the pirate turned back to the group who watched with surprised impression.
"I wouldn't say he was too devoted, when he was clearly running away from the daemon's he was meant to fight," Sarid lowly added with a cross of his arms, glancing at the fallen body.
Velvet pushed her weight onto one leg, a hint of appreciation gracing her lips. "Well, thank you for handling that," she stated coldly, looking over the passed out knight with analytical suspicion; before shaking off her thoughts with an uninterested sigh.
"Just comes naturally," Eizen responded dryly, before reasserting their goals with a cross of his arms, looming over the four that stood before him. "Now, we need that key, but we also need to take out the battleship before it sails against the Van Eltia."
Rokurou grinned in anticipation, "He's right. The control room, or the docks. Which should it be?"
The daemoness hummed to herself in thought, until she immediately made up her mind, after processing how close the key and control room were in comparison to heading down to the docks again. "Let's start searching for the key," she stated, turning to the left-most door and pushing through; the group on her heel once again. As the door creaked open, the rays of light spewed through along with the howling of winds signalling their height above ground. As far as they could see, were daemons scattered along the pathways that decorated the upper levels of the fortress.
The group tensed as a few adversaries growled in their direction, scraping themselves across the ground hungrily. "Eyes up, we've got a ways to go before we reach the control room," Sarid stated with a frown, his orbs sharply focusing on a lone locked up building sat on the other side of the fortress; only capable of being reached upon traversing the great high bridge that crossed over the top of the area.
Shing!
Velvet's gauntlet blade sprung forth from her arm, and she poised it towards the incoming beasts. "Get out of our way," she snarled lowly, tensing her bandaged arm in earnest. The group drew their weapons and entered their respective stances, as the daemons scrambled towards them with eyes of boiling blood.
~~~
"You know, you're pretty good with your fists Eizen," the samurai complimented with a toothy wolfish grin, something particular hovering in his mind. The group trodded across the bloodied bridge that hung over the fortress precariously, weapons worn with use as they continued their travel towards the control room. Another strange daemon prowled towards them, its sickly vile skin hued a slime green as it lugged the great slab of stone along the marred cobble. Its lower body was completely misplaced, upper body gouged between the slab as it dragged itself along with its mallet-like arms. However, its hunt was short, as a pull of wind wrenched it towards a striking fist comparable to resilient steel; rendering its blubbering jaw into a shattered mess.
Eizen shook off the mild feeling in his hand, clicking the joints as he cast a glance back at the watching samurai, "Not as good as you are with your swords," he retorted simply; now looking past the man and to catch a lone bumbling lizardman encroaching upon the sight of his flapping sunset kimono. Rokurou huffed a presumptuous grin, before spinning with a lone dagger and rendering the hooked blade that aimed to behead him off into the depths below. Flourishing, the sword spun in his hand as he spliced the shield hand into a fleshy mound upon rock; then swiftly unleashing the other and crossing his twin blades across the foe's chest, leaving it struggling for breath as it collapsed to its knees.
Gleefully, the samurai chuckled as he sheathed his blades inside his sash, as a particular daemoness tapped impatiently next to the trapdoor that led to their next point of interest. "I feel like I've seen a lot of your crew with swords... do you really never use them yourself?" he said in question, holding his chin again as he analysed the pirate.
Eizen shook his head and crossed his arms, "No, not with the Reaper's Curse, I don't. It likes to rear its head at the worst of times," he explained with a frown at the memories. Just behind them, a curious half-malak peeked from just under the trapdoor he had already entered, wondering what was taking the pair so long; until an irritated stomp on the door sent him back down to the room in wait with the other young malak. Meanwhile, Eizen was still explaining his problems in using weaponry due to his curse. "I've broken swords just by unsheathing them, and once, just as I was about to unleash a finishing blow, my blade seperated from the hilt and went flying. That sort of thing." Rokurou nodded in interest, a contemplative look over his face, before the malak continued again. "A sword just isn't something I can rely on when my life is at stake. I fight using only my own body; that's one less thing that can go wrong."
"It's too bad you're not a swordsman, we could've had a hell of a fight," the samurai mused, disappointed. The tapping at their rear grew louder now.
Eizen stepped up to the challenge. "I wouldn't need a sword to make it interesting. What do you say, want to try your sword against my curse?"
"Sure, if the right time comes. Just don't whine when I end up winning," the Yaksha joyfully boasted with push of his chest.
"You took the words right outta my mouth," the Reaper replied with a prideful smirk.
Stomp, stomp, stomp...
A pair of hands siezed both of their collars roughly, pulling them close as an irritated daemon stepped close towards them; anger blazing in her golden orbs. "Are you two done!?" she seethed harshly. The two men just looked at eachother, and chuckled slightly with a minor sweatdrop. Unfortunately, their resident 'box of horrors' didn't take too kindly to that.
Smack, smack!
The group walked away from the ladder and down the hallway in earnest, the Yaksha and the Reaper both rubbing the back of their heads mildly with expressions of discomfort. "How about we get back to what's at stake here?" Sarid stated with a risen brow, uncharacteristically serious at such a time.
"Yeah, right..." the samurai grumbled with a shake of his head. Eventually, his face switched back to one of concentration. "So, this is where the real show starts. Got a plan, First Mate?" he asked with a befuddled look, at a loss for how this is going to go.
Eizen similarly went back to his bllunt demeanour, albeit much quicker, and decided to explain. "The fortress guards are almost all ordinary soldiers. Just a handful of exorcists to deal with," he explained, much to few of the group's relief.
However, Rokurou was interested in the pretty weak security that protects this place. "They went to the trouble to build this huge gate. You'd think they'd keep it better defended," he wondered slyly.
Despite their infuriating conversation only moments before, Velvet decided to jump in and answer the samurai's fairly simple question with her own. "You don't need an army of exorcists to keep a bunch of disorganised pirates in check, do you?" she rumbled with a frown.
"As long as they're fighting ordinary humans, the Royal Army would suffice," Eizen finished.
"Then they only need a few exorcists as officers to give them orders," Sarid cleanly imposed.
"It was built as a symbol of the Empire, but it seems Artorias is really the one giving the orders," Eizen continued. "The Abbey directs security and defense, and Imperial soldiers are under exorcist command."
"We go for the exorcists, then. The harder they are, the more fun it'll be," Rokurou giddily accentuated.
The pirate huffed, and narrowed his eyes as they neared the door to the walkway. "Ready to bust some heads?" he darkly asked, cracking his knuckles.
"I'd rather cut them actually," Rokurou replied with a fiendish grin.
"How about we just do both?" Sarid interjected crossing his arms, a balled fist in one hand a waiting kunai in the other.
"What if I just devour you all?" And, Velvet was being herself.
Number Two meekly sighed in dismay, as they finally stormed out the next wooden doorway, battle ready to continue their siege.
~~~
"I'll tear you limb from limb!"
Her deep and anguished cries rang out across the fortress, as her appendage wreathed in malicious miasma thrashed against the thin hide of a capricious daemon; sending it reeling in shreds. Velvet decided to speed up their ambitious assault, utilising her therion claw to reduce all opposition into bloody ruin. Desperately, a foul green creature mashed against the ground, wildly wheeling its body around to strike the flipping daemon, unmatchable flexibility highlighting her prowess as she swayed smoothly around its feral attack.
An animalistic snarl, and she sprung with her abnormal hand over a offensive contortion of its boneless limbs, pulling a raucous yell from her lungs as she dove onto its voluminous back aggressively. Burrowing her savage fangs into its collapsing tendons, she tore into it hungrily as it squealed and groaned; veins pumping with shrieking ivory that spilled upon Velvet's lavish form. Exhaling with dark satisfaction, her face tilted with a scowl again, as she twisted upon its spine - snapping its malleable bones with ease - and wrenched it overhead into an encroaching colony of vampiric bats. Daemonblight pooled like an overbearing fog, until her claw tensed, and the murky tendrils lunged towards the appendage like a magnet; filling its sickly vestiges with sufficient ease.
The daemoness rose with a crack of her neck, vision cast out among the devastation wrought mostly by her hand. Blank marigold. "Nice one, Velvet!" the samurai complimented cheerfully, the disjointed remains of the more minor beasts in his cleanly bloodied wake. Similarly, the rest of the group was delegated to such a mundane task. However, it seems the pirate was fairly pleased and impressed by the overwhelming display of daemonic power.
Eizen hummed in thought, the therion claw creeping back into its worn fabric with a gravely squelch. "Huh, I don't know whether to be annoyed or relieved that you never wielded such a weapon against me," he admitted with a cross of his dirtied arms.
"There's always time," Velvet growled with a dismissive glance, stepping past and towards the lone building that emanated grim flakes of dust. A flurry of snowy strands, and hopped over their resident human, having clambered down from the mossy coils of nature that wound down from its roof. "Report?" she ordered in a militaristic manner, finding it the best way to keep his irritating traits out of mind.
Sarid sighed silently, but waved them over nonetheless as they approached the structure; attention soon caught by the double metal doors that barred their way. "As you may of guessed, this is the control room," he explained with a narrow of his eyes on the durable property. "But--"
Clang!
The ravenette's forceful steel boot slammed into the door's centre of mass, causing it to rattle slightly but otherwise deny a hint of movement. "--It's locked from the inside," he finished with a shake of his head, cerulean irises lowered with a inexpressive stare.
"It's a real thick door, too," Rokurou added with a thoughtful grasp of his chin, looking the building up and down. "If it's anything like the other one, we have no chance in bringing it down."
Velvet grunted in agreement, placing her hands upon her hips as she glared at it with a tch of annoyance. "Of course..." she groaned, "We need another way in." The woman cast her eyes over the few windows that skirted its outside, a shift of thoughts running along her mind.
"The windows would be an idea, if they weren't all barred up," the half-malak added as he caught her scan of interest. "But, it is a standalone building that is separated from the rest of the fortress," he began with a mild smile. "Follow me, there's an entrance on one of the side walls." Sarid walked fast, his quick recon no less impressive than it ever was. Especially to the pirate that paid close attention to the group's method of planning.
Looming over the depths that shimmered below, great noble banners oscillated among the shrill winds that sang throughout the fortress; the Abbey's stable and calm blue vibrant along the cracked stone. Above, upon the lone structure, climbed the group using the tough streaks of vines that spanned its marred walls. Reaching the top, they set eyes upon the dissipating corpse of a lone daemon that had been splayed out across the rooftop. A single kunai was plucked from its hued flesh, as Sarid ambled past to the ledge. He suddenly leapt down, Velvet in thoughtless tow with the rest following soon after.
The crunch of grass and the squeezing through separated iron bars; the inside of the filthy control room stared back as they stood amongst the winding of flowing dust. The daemon in black surveyed the many cabinets lining the walls and shelves, while a single wooden door stood out through the chaotic scatter, lit only from the dim torches that simmered behind their decorated of glass. "This seems to be the place. Let's split up and look for the key," Velvet relayed sternly, immediately stepping off to scour the many documents and items.
"We'll search the other room," Eizen responded, walking over to the lone door with Rokurou in step. Sarid hovered for a moment, but a single telling halt in the daemon's movements spoke of her wishes.
"...I'll go with the others, they'll be hopeless without me," he nervously stated, before jogging off to join the potential rivals in their search. Velvet continued as the half-malak left, with the young boy meekly peeking out among the room's furniture to assist.
Velvet scanned the table before her, checking each item and space they kept with an attentive eye. Until, the wry glimmer of metal scattered between the mess caught her gaze. "Aha! Found it," she announced, before a sudden commotion came from her side. Clenching his head with an aching pain pulsing, sat Number Two, and at his side was the fallen sight of a golden overturned compass across the bricked floor. A feeling welled up within her, and she made no attempt to grab its relentless reigns as she stalked over; plucking the gleaming object from its uncouth position and lightly slapped the back of the young malak's head. "Don't get so worked up over a little thing like that, it's proof you're alive," she softly asserted.
Number Two looked up in clear confusion, "Wha... The bump is?" he innocently squeaked as his hand fell from the impact that occurred.
"No, I'm talking about the pain," she stated, a gentle glint in her eyes.
The young boy shuffled along, his robe cast over him like a veil as he stuttered out his response to the strange proclamation he had heard. "But... But I'm... scared of pain," he admitted shyly.
Her grisly voice provided a sense of comfort to him, "Well kid, who isn't?" she asked with a tilt of her head. Grit in its tone akin to the soothing warmth of a fireplace, that could erupt into a blaze at any moment. Her golden gaze lifted from his kneeling place, and looked up among the furniture; compass in hand.
"Even you?"
Velvet's lips drew a thin line, as she peered back down at him numbly. Even his expression of admiration didn't cycle a warm response. "Anyway," she started, pushing the compass away from herself to analyse it properly. "Boys sure are fascinated by the weirdest things," she assessed crudely.
"Fascinated?"
The woman's bandaged hand sank away from the unblemished surface of the gleaming object, setting it towards the boy's mystified features. "You like this, right?" she questioned, looking down between the flicks of her darkened bangs.
Number Two's hands reached towards it and daintily cupped it, as if being gifted a toy. "I... I don't really know," he reluctantly admitted, face sinking in soulless sorrow. Before his eyes of verdant, did dance the spry hands of the compass between blackened lettering. "But after I saw one in a book, I got a little curious about it... and I felt..."
"You felt excited, didn't you?"
"Yeah... I guess so."
As his gaze sunk into the face of this object, his mind whirled with contemplative thoughts that surrounded it. Ideas of wonder and confusion, seeking innocent answers for an item of such minor importance. And as his blonde strands draped to hang over the artifact he peered so intently at, childish awe sprang forth from his heart. Velvet stood silent, as the boy went to ramble aloud, a miraculous sense of warmth filling her chest.
"Do you know why the needle points north? Who figured out how to make it work? I thought that if I had one of these, maybe I could go on adventures." Number Two's face broke into a wide smile. "It's exciting."
Velvet felt the muscles in her face twitch once again, and she loomed down with a slight inhale of a thousand words the boy would never understand. "When you feel that way, you should talk about it. About what you like and dislike. If you're happy or scared." Marigold hovered over to viridescent, and a light blossomed within for the briefest of moments. "After all, you're alive."
"I'm... alive..."
The woman pulled her emotion back once again, feeling the moment end and the urgency rebirth. "That's just my opinion, though. Not an order," she stated sternly. "Got that?"
His eyes gleamed with purpose, a soul embedded within the natural plain that were his innocent orbs. "Understood." But, just as the daemon turned and intended to speak of her discovery to the others, the now curious boy had one last thing to say. "Velvet...?" he murmured quietly, as she halted with a slight turn of her head. "...Why do you not like him?"
Flinch
She didn't make a sound, but her mind went wild at the sudden question from the one she never thought would ask, already knowing who the boy had inferred. Why did she? "I..." she hesitated with a clench of her fist. "...He puts the group in danger. Because of his weakness," she coldly breathed, a peaceful state reinvigorated within. Number Two was silent, and he could never discern. It wasn't a reason, but an excuse. She knew that deep within, and the malak had caught her in the vulnerable state she wished never to return. 'He's too human...' she inwardly worded, the resentment born from a reflection she never wanted to see. No matter how much she cracked that glass, the mirror only became clearer. And the shards only continued to cut deep beneath the skin.
Once again, did her emotions take the reigns from the user, and once again was she left in an irritated state. A capricious daemon indeed, as she stomped over to the door that parted the rooms; key in hand, to continue their assault on Vortigen fortress.
Moments later, the group all stood before the frint door of the control room. "You found it?" Rokurou stated in surprised glee. "Now we can get that gate open."
"We needed a compass too, nice work," Eizen added with appreciation.
Number Two shifted in place for a moment, his mind battling his voice to elicit a response. And... "Thank you!" the malak joyfully responded with a wide smile and scatter of red dusting his cheeks.
"Hey. Look at you kid, getting some confidence," Sarid interjected with a mild grin and laying a cheerful hand on the boy's shoulder; worsening the embarrassed crimson that highlighted the young malak's face. From behind, the daemoness opened her mouth to halt his movements, until she hesitated. Her tightened fist that once shook relaxed slightly, and she grasped onto her volatile reaction for the moment. However, it didn't stop her laser glare from threatening to pierce his slightly hunched back. "Did we miss anything else while we were gone?" the half-malak playfully asked as he took in the young boy's aura of resilience and curiosity.
"Nothing of importance," Velvet imposed with a scoff. "Come on, we have to take care of that ship," she ordered. Beckoning the group forward, she and the two other men stepped out the control room after breaking the lock. However, her sudden change in demeanour interested Sarid.
"Hey buddy," he said with a friendly tone, grasping the kid's shoulder. "You'd tell me, right?" Sarid asked with a smile, a kindling of happiness upon catching the new glimmers of light that grew in opacity in the boy's orbs.
Number Two didn't hesitate, completely clueless in exposing the daemoness's hidden side. "Velvet helped me," he simply revealed with a gleeful nod. The half-malak's eyebrows shot up in surprise, completely caught off-guard by the statement. As the malak caught the confusion in the man's blue eyes, he shuffled on the spot and elected to reveal more. "I bumped my head when I went to grab the compass," he explained with a single closed eye as he rubbed his aching head. "But, Velvet said that the pain is proof that I'm alive."
Sarid stood silent, stunned at the disparity between the woman he thought he knew.
"Is she wrong, Sarid?" Number Two innocently inquired with a meek shuffle of his feet.
The half-malak looked out towards the creaking doors that lightly swayed in the sea breeze, the metallic steps of impatience resounding outside. Once again, his mind was thrown into a storm of thoughts; ones he had no idea how to control.
"She couldn't be anymore correct," he shuddered with his mild frown lifting ever so slightly; white hope dancing in a storm of black darkness.
~~~
After a long arduous conversation about Number Two keeping the compass safe in his maurits silk bag - and Eizen going off on a tangent about its qualities - the group began their journey down to the docks in search of disabling the great battleship that lay dormant. Retracing their blood-soaked steps that followed their every move, the group soon found themselves back at the crossroads room. Without a moment of hesitation, they began their rush left and up trailing stairs, through webbed halls of ruinous cracked cobble and scattered barrels, and finally down a lower hatch to reach the level just above the powerful vessel. As the winds sang their beautiful chorus, the group's boots clattered against worn boards linking the route that had been parted from fallen debris; boulders of great size accenting their stampede.
Another left. Winding chambers of sodden rubble and dry dust trembling among the hordes. Snarling beasts, hissing wraiths, raging orcs. Nothing could stop their unrelenting chaos that followed in their wake. Another turn into the next chamber, and their goal lay at the very end; a pair of evidence doors that veiled their reach from the grand Abbey warship.
"How do plan to stop the battleship?" Rokurou questioned to the pirate as they ran down the stuffy hall.
Eizen didn't turn his head as they followed Velvet's tattered tailcoat, "It's equipped with large cannons. The plan is to use their gunpowder against them," he finished confidently. Their dash continued, entering the final chamber where the entrance lay.
A figure, adorned in the same noble white as every other stood in their way. Robes of accented gold, and steel hued the beautiful sunset drawn at his hip.
"An exorcist praetor?!" Velvet rasped as they skidded to a stop.
The pirate's fists balled at his sides, and he brought one up in ready. "The docks are just up ahead," his vision sharply focused upon the composed form of the praetor. "Like it or not, we're coming through."
The exorcist stilled for but a moment, until he ripped his blade from its scabbard with a flourish. "Hey, wait. Are you intruders? I suppose it doesn't matter." The sword he bore glistened a sickly red, its rectangular edge shining white from the torches wry flicker. "Reinforcements are on the way to quell this blight, and I will cut down any who consort with daemons. Face the fury of the Rangetsu sword style!"
Rokurou's eyes widened for a brief moment, the words a whole impact on his focus.
"Stand aside, Eizen," he gnarled, a new sense of conviction burning within his gaze.
"No, you stand back. I'll take care of this one," the reaper replied, firm in his decision.
However, Rokurou would not take no for an answer, as he stalked past the steadfast pirate. His sunset kimono flapped as he tore his amber blades from his reliable sash, a ferocious glare present from the orange iris that bore into the praetor's steel helm. "Sorry, this prey is mine." His singular daemon eye boiled with anticipation under the seams, bangs fluttering as he drew himself forward.
Undaunted, the praetor huffed and raised his blade. Spouting from his very vestiges, came the familiar blossoming teal light as his malakhim awakened. On his left, roared a great varaha; a large monstrous boar with skewed tusks and abnormal muscles bulging from its orphices. On his right, chattered a delusory rodent; marked upon by vibrant crimson sigils as it squealed and snarled at the size of a hound.
Velvet stepped forward, eyeing the two malakhim aggressively. "Fine, Rokurou, you deal with the exorcist. We'll take care of the malakhim," she stated calmly.
In response, the samurai grinned wolfishly. "Anyone gets in my way, and I'll kill you too," he threatened before leaping off towards the confident praetor. His pair of malakhim charged forward in earnest, but as the tusked varaha sought to gore the daemon; a flash of lightning appeared at its side. An eruption of blinding blue sent it reeling with a bellow of pain, and Velvet blitzed out from behind the group in a cacophony of unleashed steel. She spun around the enlarged boar like a serrated wheel of death, until a displacing blow rocketed into its pulpisating hide, Eizen's fist burrowing within and blasting it across the chamber. The rodent charged fiendishly, until a barrier of talisman parchment wreathed in flames scored its flesh in a violent sear, a lashing of water artes flowing soon after to bash into its cranium.
The two rangestsu users charged towards one another, one formless and light, darting around like a prowling panther; while the other stomped forward, the great blade weighing at his legs like baggage. Until, the exorcist wrenched it back, and flung the blade outwards at the foe, spinning it as the samurai dove right under. The blade - twisting like a saw - trimmed the unbound ponytail as it soared above. Rokurou's footing was regained in milliseconds, now sprinting towards the unarmed adversary mercilessly.
Shwing!
The yaksha's eyes widened, and he suddenly leapt to the side, catching a knick on the waist as the exorcist's blade circled back into his palm. Stray drops of crimson leaked, but the samurai still bounded onwards. Despite this surprise attack, the exorcist was barely even a practitioner, he could see that. So, as their swords clashed in an array of beautiful showering sparks, the exorcist could never keep up with the war demon's speed and technique.
Slash!
A cry of anguished pain derived from the samurai's unyielding skill, sending the albeit powerful praetor thrashing through the air from the wound lacerated across his chest. Obnoxious robe dyed splotched ivory, he convulsed in severe discomfort from the leftover wind that widened his wound savagely. However, he would not give in, and hovering particles of verdant appeared in droves around the exorcist, as he stumbled up from his wounded position.
Rokurou huffed as the praetor refused to give up, holding his injury but still baited for battle. "We're running out of time. You folks handle the ships," the samurai requested sternly, gripping his blades with an underlying ferocity.
"Careful Rokurou, he's--" Velvet began, carefully analysing the man's prowess.
"I know. He's holding back," he finished with a narrow of his eyes.
The group dashed past the resilient yaksha, while the injured foe struggled to cast weight upon his feet. During, integrity was displayed, as the half-malak approached confidently, and lay a show of support on Rokurou's shoulder. "Just shout, I'll be there in a flash," he quoted with a serious nod of promise. The samurai made no sign of appreciation - the same firm expression keyed on as he stared - but the white-haired man could sense the underlying thanks no matter what. Sarid joined the group in their disruption as he sprinted forth from the chamber doors, leaving the Empyreans above as the duel's only spectator. Splitting discomfort zapping across his chest, still the exorcist struggled up with a harsh breath; either through anger or pain.
Rokurou glared deeply at the one opposed him, grip upon his worn blades still harsh and reliable. "Where did you learn the Rangetsu style?" he demanded seriously.
The exorcist responded confidently and deliberate, seemingly proud about whom had taught him such a revered style. "I studied directly under the Legate Shigure of the Abbey," he stated with pride.
The yaksha smirked upon hearing the words. "Lies," he goaded without a hint of doubt. His knife jutted forward provokingly, "He'd never take on a student," Rokurou sternly denied. As the beautiful glint of amber ran along the shimmering edge, he tore apart the praetor's proclamation with sharp ease. "Let me guess. He taught you a few things one time when he was super-bored, and then crushed you with them."
His brilliant grin rubbed under the exorcist's skin like sandpaper, and his emotions grew inflamed with anger. The praetor seethed with a growl, before lunging forward to render the samurai into pieces.
Clang!