"Another human consorting with daemons...?! Have you no shame, girl?!"
With the newly emerging adversaries halting steadfast at the Praetor's side with her winded malakhim, brandishing their gleaming blades staying firm in both gloved palms, each collective force readied another crash akin to opposing waves; with the screech of steel boots being the shrill whistle.
Velvet's tailcoat bristled in the winds of her exerted force, cracking marble in this wrathful dash, the visceral twirling of a crying polearm being the only command as ground surrounding rumbled with tearing force. Hands splayed aloft with the entrancing runes of amber circling, the duelist malakhim brought their mana to bear: sending forth a cracked hail of daggered rock to skewer the approach.
Nevertheless, the daemoness did not falter at this dangerous sight, only serving to lighten the expression held, as a name boomed from her lips.
Not even in a moment, did the fierce howl of shredding winds carve this composed counter-attack, as the gashing tornado was sent crumbling into flaxen dust; the spinning blade having rendered it soaring past and scathing the casters to a gasping knee. Eleanor was caught into a stumble, as ginger locks were severed into tufts from the gyrating weapon, barely marring the opponent at her frantic duck.
Velvet's cessation of the rush was no hesitation, with the rumbling pulses of the limb as her signal and in a revolve of irony, did she lean back into a brief cartwheel - amidst the turn serving space for Sarid's inward leap right over the Therion's flipping form. No matter what the pair have been through in rising tensions and erupting emotion, they were no less of a team.
With the daemon's blackened traits flailing with this spin, the exorcists found themselves suddenly affront to a miraculous fighter, at which this sailing blade that wreathed its storm of steel fell right back into his waiting hands. Letting a belitting smirk show serving to irritate their naive foe, this changed half-malak flicked the sword into a reverse grip as they sprinted forth, instantly did he slam a palm forward in response, this reborn gale to send the advancing malakhim careening right back into the altar: splintering it's pious shape with their stunned bodies.
Time for the new challenger it seems. With Eleanor's valiant swings coursing out to render his guard, Sarid found no trouble in letting this spear spark the ornamental metal he bore, leaning under a potentially ringing blow before flipping back and through this thickened air. Another name rang free, this time from his lips.
"Magilou!"
"It is I~!"
Flapping white fell away in the sights of narrowed green, only for a fountain of azure to circulate at their feet; springing out came a vibrant somersault of extravagant colour, with the Witch's dramatic appearance casting in place a giant card doll that swatted away the confused Praetor with a resounding jeer. Guardians: the unmistakable yet equally as ridiculous of a power that the grinning Witch now wielded at the work of her reclaimed 'slave'.
At this abrupt and effective teamwork, the injured Praetor stumbled to her feet at the assistance of the just as wounded malakhim bound under her rule. Either way, the girl had no chance to take a rest from these cycling dreadful duets of death, as those blazing medallions raced ahead again. However, Velvet's honed blade only yearned for one goal; the High Priest's harrowed face drawing aghast as the daemon neared, step by step. Nonetheless, the Therion's mildly astounded snort slipped past as that gilded lance barred this offense again.
And so, her heel sparked on stone, and with the encompassing chaos of a newly began battle racking the hall, she sprang towards this stubborn enemy once more.
Wristblade roaring out with each incessant slam upon the weakening Praetor's staff, the Wolf darted about the frantic prey with swift, destabilising strikes. Eleanor's flailing sweeps with excessive reach could only grace the withered air Velvet remained a moment before, swiping along her torn and blackened garments in fearful inefficiency while the exorcist's grip grew ached and jittery with each rumbling blow dealt.
A particular close gouge only led to a rapid evasion with the grinding of steel, and a spinning backfist cracking right into the now-dazed Praetor; lurching back with a dainty hand on jaw. Carrying this stunning blow through, the daemoness carved a sharp cut to gore the exorcist's shoulder, immediately swaying outside of a wild swing and twisting into a darting kick that knocked the polearm aside from another stabbing storm.
As a glancing touch of runic fingertips graced strapped steel; the crackle of spitting flame bolstered by unnatural winds zipped upon ear, and the Therion swift evasion called to a soaring kunai alight that streaked past, enveloping an unknowing sword-bearing exorcist at the whimpering Praetor's flank in a detonation of flame as it sunk deep. At this, Eleanor's teeth grit to metal as she turned, the trusty spear still bore reigniting briefly shaken faith; and she called upon the celestial mana of her weakening tools as a figure in white dashed forth once more: streaking out from the smoldering smog.
Clang!
"You don't give up, do you?"
A spluttering grind of steel on steel, and the duelling opponents found a moment of respite in this struggling bout: locked weapon to weapon as a verdant glare clashed with violet dispassion.
"Quiet, Barloc! I can't believe another traitor has joined your wretched ranks," the Praetor had scornfully spat, the slight glisten of moisture at the very corners of her sight as she glared upon the gilded crest flowing in the winds.
"Don't use that name..." he warningly growled, the last name that remained unheard of throughout his years: spat out with contempt. "Stop with this pointless fight, you know you can't win here." Sarid's expression was bordering a scowl now, this girl who had been fighting so hard for the wrong side still unyielding.
"I live to keep the people of this city safe from horrors like her!"
Light pierced the veil of stained glass behind, its threaded beams glancing off the blade that strode against this valiant polearm. And in its revealing gaze, did it illuminate the dotted marks and scars embroidered at the half-malak's features just from this brief venture. Stark irises of amethyst narrowed.
"Then you'll die for them..."
With the destructive rumble echoing across the battered prayer hall - malakhim and exorcist alike being sent scrambling from searing cuts and lashing fists - another duel waged in the center. Flares of sparking weaponry clashed and sputtered to light marbled ground, as sword against spear clacked along the mayhem.
"Do you wish to die in the defense of humanity's enemy?!"
Hailing the burnt air with twisting force, the spear clattered at unshakeable edge repetitively, the Praetor's rallying strikes accented by the natural elements brushing against stalwart guard and swift deflection. An unexpected duck and step that led to a stunning hook rocked into the face of the exorcist's noble offensive. However, as the untoiled white was singed with licking embers and boots bruised at the rupture of amber, Sarid found himself on a retreating defense as the sheer coalescence of mana proficiency barred any openings. So, with a readying glint at his steel and the arising winds to bear around them, the half-breed vanished backwards with an arcing flash.
Eleanor only scored a moment of realisation as the man reappeared bounds away: the coiling winds of a faded green clinging at the blade of his unmatched weapon.
Like enrapturing vines, translucent shimmers coiled and settled about the lone kunai pronounced in the opposing grip: whisking the twisting gales about the shortened steel. A weight to sling, and slice, for decisive and devastating blows.
"Come and find out."
His hand flexed, and the kunai - bound by connecting winds to his mysterious blade - flailed and spun about his form like a bladed whip of a howling verdant current, and streaking steel.
With a shout of exertion to propel this created style, Sarid twirled the blades about growing waves of scorched air, carving out serrated winds into the space with precise flourishes. In this coiling storm formed at his element, a single ferocious strike sent these bladed gales to fly forward; lacerating vivid stone below and above, rushing into the exorcist's desperate swings to combat the ranged slices. Echoes of this valiant yet violent clash brushed the battlefield with a striking breeze, drawing glances at this outburst wreathed in wind.
Twisting at the spot, these slithering gales surrounded the man like chains, each spiralling outwards with gouging power of that of a sword itself; Eleanor's defensive spins faltering at the seams, with the squeaking of leather shifting back on marble.
At times did his empty left command the whipping gale like a brutal conduction, wrestling the snaking shimmer to propel it around and assault another direction. Unpredictable, and wild.
If the malakhim blood that pumped through his veins could only last as a candle against a bonfire, then he would introduce his own oil to begin its blaze. The style of a Barloc, the style of his father - before he was taken by the dark - now mixed and transformed into something beyond.
Twirling the sword at palm with its bellowing winds, clenched tight to the knife at its tip, cleaved into the environment: runes of a kindling crimson beginning to dance upon bandaged fingers as its tip of steel erupted into a searing flame. Sarid's tailcoat beat against the boiling air as he thrust the building power forth with a rocketing flare. "Burn away...!" This iridescent glare waved over surroundings with its heat, the lone missile-like kunai soaring through waves of crackling winds towards the Praetor.
With overwhelming force, this spewing dart of inferno pierced right through Eleanor's whirling guard, collapsing upon center mass and billowing out with dashing flames and pooling smoke, lacing the surroundings with char. Shouts of gasping pain wracked out of the onyx cloud, the exorcist's choked breath revealed from within; the once gilded front robe of her formidable status once bore now blackened and brought to a crude tarnish. A gouge of crimson was settled in the middle, and aside did the knife remain embedded.
Sarid's snowy strands flowed in the wake of his smoldering winds - embers settling at the breeze's palm to soar - while his eyelids sat closed in a moment of disappointed recognition for the Praetor's struggle.
"...I'm not waiting for your closure."
Violet gracing vision once again after his passing gode of the fallen girl, the half-malak sheathed the glowing blade back to its scabbard with a flourish that wrenched the kunai from her gut. He took in the brief calm procured at this storm as the knife launched to splayed palm, the choked splutters ahead from the visceral wrench clear but unimportant. The commanded winds steadily dissipated.
Inhale... exhale...
He nodded, solemn, to the piercing look oblique that bore on of respected gold, still bubbling with the rush of battle aside.
Kneeling in gruelling defeat, the Praetor's shattered spear clattered to the marble in smithereens, its shards glinting with stained ivory. Lifting dazed vision to lay eyes at this ruined field, the despairing green widened as the deafening rumbles of emerging mana crashed to earth; a high-pitched chant of distinguished victory upon this darkened horizon.
"Blamm-o!"
Shrieks of discomfort bolted out amidst the fiendish cheer, and out plummeted a body wreathed with grotesque scarlet and twisted ligaments, its dark snapping and moist collapse clacking to worn stone. Moaning as she attempted to place pressure at her feet, the Praetor gasped again as the final exorcist was spotted in the ruinous graveyard stepped upon. Many marks of distinct slashes decorated the pious garb, and the weapons remained similarly reduced to rubble; the faithful warrior's chest cavity lying ruptured and crushed from a single, savage stomp. Eleanor's shoulder throbbed aggressively, while her charred and injured abdomen stung incessantly with a writhing burn.
Until, she was overcome with a pleased verdant glow encompassing this paralysed space, and out stumbled a battered malakhim with its palm singing a viridescent healing glow. The other was nowhere to be seen.
Click, click
The distinct clacking of steel firmly shifting across marble sounded out before the downed foe, and out forth from the scorned cloud did her burning medallions glare. Velvet glowered under the Praetor's fearful stare, feral grip clenching at the strange neck of a motionless malakhim dragged at the heel. Poised fingers narrowed on digging through its chidden flesh. "Stand aside." The daemon's order was cold and unfeeling, completely done with this endless charade. Ahead, Eleanor finally stumbled to foot, the final remaining malakhim at her behest swaying in place, with the trembling High Priest cowering at the exorcist's flank.
"Never!"
Swiping the air with a splayed palm, the Praetor's wordless order commanded the malakhim at the side to step forth into a rush; its gilded lance stayed ready to skewer the daemoness that blankly watched. In a single, minute motion, the malformed and malignant limb tore its way through entwining cloth, with the vile tendrils of miasma burrowing forth and free from its garment cage. What now gripped this unconscious malakhim, was the same ravenous, pulpisating claw she revealed. It only took a slight increase in force.
Crunch!
The other sprinting malakhim tool that fearlessly approached could not blink, before more mashed crimson pooled between ruinous cracks below, its devoured corpse only sparing a few twitches until its heavenly form faded into crackling azure flame; unbound from the chains of all.
Eleanor's breath was siezed, ragged as she blinked at the sudden barbaric fatalities. Arms trembling, the exorcist's knees could almost buckle as the ravenette sauntered forth. Velvet stomped close to the frozen girl, towering almost a head above and holding the completely still gaze conveyed through that sheltered green. This powerless Praetor was nothing without a tool.
The fist rammed right into her liver with an abrupt and thunderous force, the casual blow sending the girl reeling over the firm arm rested into her chest; soon collapsing motionless onto the weary marble. Alongside her cracked and shattered staff.
Velvet spared no other look, flicking the dreadful aureate stare deep into the High Priest, who flinched over that narrowed gaze; empty of remorse.
"W-Wait! All I did, I did for the sake of the Abbey."
Her boots clicked closer, the dire jingle of silver: a knell to the back and forth sway of that daemonic appendage.
"We needed money to build the temple. That's why I sold the Nectar..."
Franciscan sandals shuffled away, fruitless atop the tainted royal carpet, frantically glancing between the dead-end altar he unwillingly encroached upon.
"I know I was wrong to produce so much of it... B-But I was only trying to help the people best I could!"
Her boots smudged its cerulean colour with deep, blemishing crimson. Casual steps tracing sinful attestation across reverent grace.
"Let's talk this over. Who ordered you here? Was it the sick? Was it the doctors? Or-"
Shing!
The blade slicked out from its nestled place, the screeching of this marred gauntlet warring the harrowed priest to spring back and slam his back into the altar; sliding pitifully to the ground in restrained acceptance.
"No... Was it Artorias?"
Velvet's vibrant peer flared at the mere mention, jutted brows and a malignant tensing of her depraved vermillion skin: bloodied talons tight and curved.
However, their cowardly target jutted back with a haze overcoming the shaking plea that once wracked him, pulling back and seething at the teeth: gritted and bare. "I knew it! Damn his eyes! So, he wants to wipe me out of existence, does he?"
A wretched etch - dark and lowly - steadily crept into the cursing inflections of this religious figure, the violet miasma spilling out of his soul and latching onto paled human skin carved of its healthy shade through malicious flakes of darkness.
"That bastard! After all the work I did for him..."
And even still, Velvet stared onwards before this clear development, allowing the thirsting limb to bathe in his sorrow and hatred. Until, the priest's feet dug into the ground stood where they stood, and then came the flowing rush of vile blight that assaulted these once serene chambers. The Therion was wrenched back to slide across the desecrated carpet, while the watching group behind guarded at this putrid explosion; the half-malak being jerked to a knee with a hoarse splutter.
"Velvet!" In this detonation of wrath, the young boy could only focus on the wellbeing of his saviour, pattering steps racing forward at the sight; dashing outside the reach of another's grasp.
"That false saviour, will pay!"
And what stood in place of this once retreating figure: overcome with quivering fright, was a lizardman draped in a withered and disfigured cream cassock. Its lined teeth, curved, sharp and crooked - were speckled with blackened fractures along reddened gums. Sickly green eyes gleamed atop faded sclera, boring manically through the daemoness opposing life.
It's claws sang across corrupted air, splicing their way in vain to strike the swift Wolf. Through a twisting evasion spurred by feral strikes, Velvet flipped away from its scourge of attacks, only for its daemonic sense to glaze towards the unsuspecting soul that raced forth with no reason. Powerful muscles pumping, the inhuman priest sprung away from the daemoness' cracking counter: bounding towards the innocent child that hobbled its way. Laphicet could only smother his face in futility at the sudden danger trouncing his bravery, shoes slipping to a halt as deathly talons sought to gouge the boy.
Breath hitched, the hurried clacking of steel and its grinding screech rung the commotion outside his veiled vision. And, one failed to be there for the second time.
Blood flew from ripped flesh. Laphicet felt nothing.
The daemoness' dark grunt of exertion was evident: the sudden chilling abnormality scraping, as an intense rush of a searing heat stripped the tissue from her back. Velvet's footing faltered before the young malak as he gasped out in shock, the woman tumbling to a knee as the turned priest desperately scoured the devastated chambers with a flickering tongue. Her gilded glare swerved with a surge of warmth burrowing inwards, and the beast hailed back another glistening claw to which she faced unflinching; before a bolting fist crashed into its jaw.
Claws squealing upon marble, the lizard-priest hissed before another combo of vengeful hits scored its reptilian maw, one barrelling stomach-ward and then uppercutting its gurgling neck. Wildly skirting its limb outwards, the bladed hand found emptiness, while its second struck out below; clashing against a steadfast scabbard and narrowly missing a tear on the tailcoat's crimson lining, before one last blow bashed into its snout.
Sarid glared on with a click of bruised knuckles, coiling them about his hilt in ready as a line of crimson leaked at the corner of his mouth.
It's gleaming irises - hazed in hatred - bore into that of thr opposing figure. Until, they flicked downwards, and caught the proud glint of something emblazoned on the half-malak's apparel. The crimson pearls widened, and trembled.
"Is-Is that... bastard wearing the Barloc crest?!"
It's visceral seething of shaking curses were evident, yet sudden. Its clawed feet raking the marble below as it stepped back.
The half-malak in question didn't flinch at this enunciation, relishing in the once pompous beast's disgruntled form. A glint of violet returned to the man's eyes, accentuated the dirtied face of battle he bore with a smirk. His palm caught the stray side of the restrained coat, and the full-horned crown came to fruition in the pious light once more.
"Come on now, that's no way for a man of the cloth to talk."
The reptilian daemon ceased his once confident offensive.
"You... foul hunters won't be rid of me that easily!" It spat, aggravated yet wary, as its cowardly traits still remained. With the rest of the group rushing to assist, in one great bound, the demihuman leapt right over the decimated altar: aware of a door marking his potential exit from the fiendish assassins.
In a final attempt to gouge this snivelling reptile, the half-malak ripped sword from sheathe as the gales coalesced at the blade once more, before it was hurled forth, smooth. The chopping of air beat the area, with this revolving blade soaring right around the flank of this altar in seeking at the wind's guidance; shimmering steel nighly carving the sprinting daemon in two, until its target barred fate with a slammed exitway. The ornate weapon burrowed deep into the wood, as its clicking claws echoed down the hall.
"...I hate priests."
Cursing with a hidden cough, the man turned back to the injured daemon that scolded the foolish innocent malakhim, seething at the gaping wound shredded into the once youthful honeyed skin. "Ngh!" she growled, "You can't die now! You think you can read books when you're dead!?" Velvet's berating words were only accentuated by the deathly grip over the boy's shoulder. Turning to spare another glance at the path taken by their escaping target, the woman suddenly had this pulsating heat dissipate under a welcoming coolness.
"Don't you die either, Velvet..."
The boy's resilience was abrupt, yet not unwelcome as his palms splayed out and that familiar soothing green flared to cleanse the scorching injury. However, the half-malak could not shake the ghost of a smile upturning his lips.
"Priesty's getting away," the Witch monotonously reminded, a bored and unimpressed glance over the ordeal.
Wasting no more time, the determined daemoness stood without issue, glaring down this secret path to lunge after her prey. "He won't. I'll hunt him down..." she lowly asserted, before a sudden gasp from that same boy slipped out again. She spared a glance, narrowed eyes peering upon the dribbling scarlet that traced their half-breed's lips.
"Sarid? Are you hurt too?" Laphicet asked in worry, readying his hands to cast another glistening healing spell. However, there was no time, the band of fiends immediately getting in position to race after this deft foe.
"Not the problem right now, we need that daemon dead!"
~~~
Repetitious steps clicked and clacked through ruinous dilapidated halls and down crumbling steps, the ancient and worn pathway telling of its years of unuse and lack of care. With brazen torch light guiding their advancing trek, flickering from the stampeding winds, the group sprinted down a steady and expanding stairway to where these narrow caverns widened in berth, before coming to a screeching halt at what lay before them.
"What... What is that?!"
Reptilian flesh and meat was violently torn from bone, the consumption of gore through great punctures and lacerations decored across this fallen priest's form. The palpitating darkness that spewed from this clamored corpse was simply swallowed down the immense beak that threaded muscle. Deep within this voluminous cavern they stumbled upon, resided a great and giant eagle-like creature; a winged daemon feasting on the massacred remains of their target. Its enlarged form spanned that of a dragon, dark paprika feathers over ones of a faded white bristled during its vile meal. Pulpisating lines of malicious amethyst and webbed scarlet painted its snowy face; a pair of signature gleaming bloodshot orbs settled inside the skull.
And before long, did its desecrated feast draw to an end, as these miasmatic flames it gorged itself on vanished within its gulping gullet. With it, did the sinful figure draped over the priest vanish; humanity restored at the cost of his pitiful life. Velvet's clambered gaze lowered to settle at her bandaged limb, as it closed in a fist of tense familiarity.
"The daemon... returned to human form?"
That naive and faithful voice returned, remaining shaken, but the group collectively turned to see the uncomfortable Eleanor Hume approach with eyes of roving disbelief.
"And... What is that beast!?"
The Praetor was frozen, the chilling sight before her shattering the infallible visions in her mind. Trembling, and lost.
A sigh. "...You tell us, its in your 'ever-so safe' city," the half-malak snidefully remarked with a mild scratching cough.
Setting sights upon the group standing beneath, the immense creature shrieked in vicious earnest, ringing ears as it grand wings spanned the cobble below. And with one fell swoop, it beat the chilling air to soar above. However, it's freedom was barred.
Crackle!
Suddenly, a screech of pain and almost frustration rumbled out, as auric bolts leapt across its figure: jolting it back to the earth. Above, akin to cobwebs, were golden lines conjoined across the glistening light above; its only opening gated and trapped by metal. The woeful beast slumped to the dusty ground, rising mist flowing with its miserable breaths.
"There's a barrier here," the pirate 'astutely' commented, cold ice narrowing at this makeshift failsafe.
"So, what? The Abbey is holding this thing captive?" Rokurou murmured on, captivated by the wild and unlikely creature before them.
"This barrier..." Velvet's voice was low, and bitter; almost sorrowful in its delivery. "I know it well."
"It seems our errand is met with success, at least technically speaking," Magilou stated with an uncaring shrug, bringing the group back to their business.
"Right. Let's get out of here."
Shing!
"What did you do to the High Priest?! What is this daemon?!"
Once again, the band of misfits stood opposed by this stubborn Praetor once again; wielding only the trembling head of her spear in unsteady hands. It was pitiful, such unyielding valiancy yet obvious naivety in the face of such distinct evidence of the sins crawling along the city walls. This Praetor had opposed them, three times too many.
"I don't know, and I don't care," Velvet dismissively waved off.
"Do not mock me!" The lone blade jutted forward, the quiver remaining in slicked hands.
"You are the mockery," the daemoness sharply stated, stomping forward without any hint of worry or fear at this supposed disgrace, trembling in white and gold. "What do you hope to do to me your exorcist powers?"
Marred and battered steel was placed right upon the center of the daemon's chest, a dare to even try. The twin blades of the exorcist's shattered will wavered, and fell away from daemonic flesh. Eleanor, hopeless and defeated, stayed her gaze away and to the cobbled floor; the encompassing group stepping around her without another word. The metallic remains clattered away, as she slumped to bruised knees.
"Who are you?" Eleanor whimpered, glistening tears pooling, "Who are you people?!"
Velvet's darkened attire and traits fluttered with the sense of waking dread, as the clinks of silver ricocheted across fractured walls.
Not even worth killing.