A single, dry cough; with one hazy, sore eye, staring hard.
"Say when."
Artorias's boot took an inch.
And Sarid dashed off, throwing the kunai outwards to whip with a sudden singing blaze crackling across the verdant rope, kunai aflame to crash into the Shepherd's unflinching blade with a burst of billowing fire and smoke. The steel whipped the cloud away, and from above the Saviour's calous expression did a collection of sparking orbs reign; gold and spitting with lightning. They shot off, a blitz like bullets before the half-malak's run, and still did the man evade with a precise sideways flip: artes cracking into earth with rumbles of dust.
Out he leapt, another twirling sling of this erupting whip soaring past and blasting aside from Artorias's casual deflect. His attacks came merely like a burn-scented breeze. Longsword raised high, and with its berth aloft did the steel hum a deep amber; a spectral blade of earth mana growing high to the temple's very ceiling. Thus, it came crashing down akin to that of a thundering wave or quake, seeking to split the man in two.
Sarid grunted, pulling harsh at the extended roping bundles released from binding his arm, and out flung the kunai end again; redirected to smack the side of the Saviour's unfaltering edge. The attack did not halt, however this strike knocked its vertical slam off-target, leading it to rend the ground with a visceral crack! Rupturing the marred marble and pulling a great slab where the Hunter stood to rise from the force. Nevertheless, Artorias did not yield, and soon after did the same gigantic blade swing horizontal once more, its swipe parting thick and dreadful air.
And, so did the honed arte carve right through flesh. However, soon did the figure it thought to have parted in two dissipate into a fading burst of wind, and beneath the amber wake came a gritted shout and a desperate leap onto safe ground. With the decoy buying brief respite, Sarid's dash started once more, slinging relentless ranged artes as he sprang left and right. Another unveil of the winding gale rope, and he twisted with its heaving swing, the crackling blow blasting against the Shepherd's guard for the third time.
"Hyah!"
Boom...!
He dared not falter, yet the grand Saviour let a wince slip as the erupting flame licked his cheek with its scorching heat.
The powerful Legate huffed, and poised his longsword aside, and soon did its unblemished face become slick with moisture and a light teal. He thrust the blade out, and from its tip did a circling torrent of water blast out, the rushing beam of a roaring sea skirted across the stone; batting right into the body of a sprinting Sarid.
Devastated marble and rubble scratched and scraped, the sheer force flinging his figure to smack and tumble; cracking through rocky remains, until the half-malak crashed into the defaced Throne walls - enshrouded by a sputter of falling dust.
Breaths were held, as roving eyes from watchers behind could not ignore the destructive battle waged between two unlikely foes.
Eventually, the settling smoke cleared, and the veiling cloud grew opaque as it fell from its guise. Behind, knelt a battered Sarid, clothing ripped and desecrated by the dreadful blow he suffered. The left sleeve of his once crisp and valiant haori, was now shredded, and riddled with gaps; while the toned arm it bound upon trembled with painful shudders, the skin rashed red and cut. The rest of the Hunter's figured fared no better, imposed dirt and scratches lashed all over among the worn and scarred vestments.
His chest rose and fell at a harsh pace, rough breaths leaking through tight, sore lips. The weapon he clutched so fierce remained in his right, fingers barely reigning in the wind rope that flickered, the kunai end hanging dainty from the verdant string of mana.
And still, did the lone eye of violet remain ablaze with ambition, and passion - glaring deep unto the Shepherd that evaluated him so. The half-malak's body shrieked in torment, begging for rest, but still did his feet crunch against stone, as he sprinted towards the Savior once again with a grisly growl.
The wind screeched as it whipped past ears with the incessant bounding of his steps, until the ground hummed a familiar amber below; subsequent of Artorias's longsword threading the earth with a severe slam. Sarid did not hesitate as he leapt against the sheering winds, legs raised from the stone hued yellow...
Shink!
And narrowly evaded the army of gouging spikes that emerged and punctured through the marble. A sudden commanding swing from the Shepherd, and all crumbled away from an abruptly violent gust that sent the half-malak spiralling close. Heaving with exertion, Sarid fought against the gales, sinking the kunai pair back into their sheathes before twisting to land: ground viscerally ripping at the momentum as he pushed and dashed to match its rush.
His hand snapped to the hilt of the awaiting broadsword, and tore the steel from its nest and soon met in an arm-numbing clash with the great Saviour.
Clang! Was the knell of their duel, and Artorias Collbrande glowered from the man's fighting spirit. Spitting sparks and rumbling steel echoed, as the Shepherd batted down with his precise assault, each strike launching the Hunter steps away as he desperately fought to match. Shifting the longsword away, or grinding it to pass aside, until a chip flaked from the edge of Sarid's blade. The blades clashed relentlessly, singing flecks of ringing metal to spark past flails of hair, with the Hunter ducking just beneath a beheading cleave, only for ivory to splatter from a thin gash that split the front of his garb.
A grimace, and harsh grunt of determination, he grit his teeth with a heavy raise to send his weapon carving downwards. The Shepherd met it unequivocally.
Snap!
And off did the blade fly, snapped in two by their visceral clash; leaving only a stub of steel, jagged and shattered in his grip. Yet, as the half-malak stepped back with a weary expression, the dregs of a smirk twitched the edge of his lips. With the passing sever of his blade, the jagged stub managed to cleave a slim gash just across the front of Artorias's gilded robes. Nonetheless, no blood leaked from its defacement.
The Hunter heaved a throw with a grunting exertion, lashing the remains of his sword to sling towards the frowning Savior. Nonetheless, the man stepped past with ease, rocketing a kick to Sarid's stomach that sent him rolling through crumbling rubble with a splutter.
And, as he stilled to a shaken knee, the half-malak looked up to find the Shepherd's longsword raised to rest its tip at his jugular unopposed.
"The end of your line," was the sentence spat from Artorias's mouth, the legacy merely dirt buried underneath a boot.
It readied across from behind the unfeeling Legate's head, and across the steel sliced with a wisp of the rumbling air.
Yet, similarly, no scarlet seeped from any severed head, as it whirled across into a sudden dagger that sought to bar its way. The half-malak's boots squeaked across the fractured stone below, as his grip shook immensely to battle the one-armed strike. Artorias's armament had sunk its perfect edge halfway into that of his kunai's face. "Maybe," Sarid shakily spat out, "But... I'll see you in hell soon enough."
The Shepherd's face remained stoic, yet the twin blues that gazed were lidded in sheer confusion. "...But, you will still die."
Sarid's face turned, a knowing but still fiendish smirk present through his injured expression as he struggled.
"But I don't care."
Before leaning back, and slamming his head into that of the overbearing Saviour.
Artorias stumbled back minutely, shaking his head with a grunt as the half-malak before him whipped his leftmost arm back; inhaling sharply. And from the bruised palm did a swirling orb of white appear, the Purity Orb twisting with welling power. But, even as Sarid thrust the attack to the chest of the briefly stunned Shepherd, all it took was a single palm raise.
And, a shockwave of verdant winds sent the half-breed reeling back once more; the useless corpse of his gifted broadsword clattering to the marble.
However, as the man was so wildly flung and the orb whirled off to erupt aside, he did not - would not - give in. Reorienting once more, Sarid snatched two kunai from the sash, and in a single moment of soaring among howling gales, let the blazing dagger sing once more at the windwhip's lash and his shout.
"Rargh!"
Bang!
Another burst aflame, greater this time, as the adversary visibly twisted away from the sears of its infernal breath. The Shepherd actually let an exhale of frustration pass, and in a dash that came akin to a blink; before the Hunter was he stood.
Suddenly, the skirting slash that came lacerated only air, as Sarid bound just above with a swift leap, yet the speed of Artorias was unrivalled; the glinting steel soon carving up from below in chase.
Clang!
The kunai shuddered further, the blade split half to the center, and the half-malak's right arm prickled from the vibrating force. And, with no friction to halt this blow, off he sailed above - releasing a grisly gasp. The winds raced past, whipping at his attire while he spun airborne, gripping hard only on what he could rely. Sarid twisted, and unfurled the wind of his own as the roping arte sailed in nature's blow; lashing it best he could as in a twirl. In the wake of this turn, the kunai bound to its viridescent string zipped off into this storm, its head ablaze and crackling ever so suddenly: moments from the Shepherd that watched upon steady ground.
His chilling orbs widened.
Boom!
Artorias's boots slid back, grinding up pebbles beneath as he grunted through the great blast of fire that detonated around him. A golden glare overcame the once biting frost, and his longsword crackled auric as it sung through the chilling air to cast in the direction of the half-breed's falling figure.
The rumbles of thunder cracked throughout the violent winds, and volatile jolts of arcing aureate sprung forth, clambering across the feral skies and the desecrated temple. They darted close, zapping and crackling around the Hunter as he attempted to land upon the ruinous cobble below. His boots smashed against a slab at the Throne's disjointed marble, and in a sudden wild roll did the half-malak evade, as the rock he landed upon erupted with a great crack of lightning; area around segmenting with brilliant golden eruptions.
The momentum carried through, and in whipped the sudden kunai ablaze with a flick of Sarid's arm, bulbous and encircled with its gathering fire inches before the all-powerful Saviour.
BOOM!
Artorias's figure rocketed back, sliding viscerally as his feet ground hard on the stone beneath, ripping a breath abruptly from lungs as he came to an eventual stop.
The wisps of fire dissipated among the charred ends of his reverent garb, the once intricate structure surrounding now beaten black with burns and carving scars. A growl practically rumbled from his throat.
And then, his longsword was a hair's breadth from the half-breed's neck.
His violet iris flicked wide, and his arm could only flinch upwards, before the impact.
Thwack!
Sarid's body soared aloft. Flailing lifelessly among the twisting winds and the swirling debris. It eventually fell, smacking hard against the shattered floor and rolling with the splotches of ivory tracing his violent tumble. Until, it stopped; inches from the gentle hum of the gilded cage that kept him imprisoned, unable to escape.
The crest so proudly bore was torn and spliced, faded white ruined with bone-shattering strikes and pooling vermillion of broken flesh beneath. In his bloodied palm where the sticky fluid trickled, was the snapped hilt of his fourth kunai. His body remained motionless, only ruffled by passing wind.
And just behind this cruel barrier - a cruel fate - did they watch. Steps away from this sizzling trap, did the others stay grouped; few glaring down the encroaching exorcists with weapons drawn, yet too exhausted to manage more than a swing.
However, whereas the weary Oscar and Teresa waited with baited breath, marred and exhausted as the ones that so willfully fended them off; a particular Praetor still remained indecisive and shaken. Eleanor Hume gazed upon both battles at the side of the great elder Legate, hands trembling about the spear she carelessly held. The blood at its glistening tip, now lay dark and aged.
And far beyond the furious battle and the tense standoff, did the mysterious Melchior watch with a rub of his silver beard, enthralled by the main actors of this unruly stage.
Lastly, a pair of souls remained at the edge of the mayhem. And, at the very precipice of the torturous trap, did she stand.
The daemoness had made no other sound in the wake of this battle, face darkened - yet simultaneously lit aglow by the golden webbing. She dared not recklessly charge once more, for already did her skin burn and sizzle from the protective shock she endured. Her fists were tight, vices about one singular kunai, but no movements were made, for she could do nothing.
By her side, stood the fatigued and frightened Laphicet, arcane parchment even trembling while airborne as he attempted to care for the group's injuries. His verdant pearls flashed back to the motionless half-malak just behind the cage arte, "S-Sarid! Get up, please!"
The Hunter didn't move.
And out from the visage of their ruthless battle, did the Shepherd stalk. His cold orbs stayed honed on the form slumped at the arte's edge.
"...A true shame," Artorias stated blankly, planting his longsword to embed the ground once more. "He could have made an excellent Praetor, if not for your poisonous words... Velvet." His chilling stare finally flicked upwards, and levelled with the silent woman that stood barred from the body before her.
Velvet's hazel eyes boiled at the sight, deathly still and daggered through swaying dark strands.
A groan.
Eyes flicked earthward, and the head of ruffled snow shifted, grip shuddering at the mere movement. Sarid's lone violet pearl struggled to part, like heaving open iron shutters. And in the glimmer that broke his perpetual darkness, did he see the ones before him. Past the crackling wires, where an umbral jacket swayed - orbs a searing gold that bore down into his remaining violet.
His grunts racked again - mouth wheezing with splutters of blood that came crawling out of gritted teeth as his arms pushed; trembling as they wrestled his body slowly upwards through the jolting aches and exhausted muscles. Limbs faltered and shuddered with every shift - the pool of energy sapped of all that remained - only an iron will that burned with ambition pulled the half-malak forward. Eventually, boots settled against the marble firm, and the remnants of the dagger clutched fast - fallen from his drained fingers.
Droplets fell from chapped lips, crimson, to dot the ground fractured beneath. Sarid slowly turned, shoulders slouched as the dwindling breaths heaved, stumbling around with a tense jaw and twitching eye. A hand swung back, shaking as it weakly pulled at one of the two daggers slotted behind; hanging carelessly from a finger as the man took a step. His lips parted, and even as ivory dripped free, words could be seen inching out too; yet none were heard.
Artorias's cold gaze narrowed in suspicion, cautious at the half-breed's next move.
Sarid took another step, until suddenly, his heel tilted. And, his figure came crashing down upon the earth once more, thudding to the rubble harshly.
"Enough of this..."
The Shepherd sighed with a dismissive shake of his head, and up the blade rose. At his wordless call, the sigil behind hummed at his behest, and once more was the noble longsword wreathed in a mysterious gold.
The half-malak's teeth were bared, his face scrunched up with exertion through the scrapes, the tears, and the scars. His fist wound hard about the faithful dagger, and up he pushed again - as he always would - scratching knuckles across the stone debris to a weakened kneel. Eventually, did the man muster what strength blazed at the deepest depths of his soul, bringing himself to stand against the howling winds that ripped at his billowing attire.
The Saviour's amber sword lengthened to the air above, readied high to finally render the cockroach standing against him. Its energy welled and pulsed, swirling in the middle of the still whirling storm. Sarid couldn't even gamble the slightest inch forward.
"This is what will stamp out calamity from our world forevermore, you were a fool to think you could stand against it!" Artorias's voice boomed across the chamber, an example being made of the man that rocked on his very place. The Shepherd's icy stare fell to the half-malak once more, the raised longsword moments away from falling down upon him. "This power is that of a god's, you are just a human being."
The Hunter's balance fell, and aside did he tilt.
Just as the grand arcane blade - that seemed to puncture the very heavens - cleave down from above.
His eyelid slid to a close, and as the man's mind faded away into a vacant void, did something pump within.
Badump...
Thoughts leapt back to the words he whispered, so weary and discreet. Ones that would decide the fate of his soul, should they be adhered.
"I make an oath... that my soul cannot rest -- until this future... is changed. And, she... is saved. Bloody Empyreans..."
The silence was deafening, as if his ears were clogged from the twisting gale's roar.
Until, his heart raced once more with a revering vitality, and energy fuelled the torn and abused muscles.
Sound blasted back to Sarid's eardrums, and nigh before the rubble beneath brought his boots to a fall, did his lone pearl of violet snap open with a visceral gleam. Running right along the incoming edge of this gigantic blade that sought to sow his fate. The half-breed's feet slammed firm, and back did he suddenly lean.
SHING!
The overwhelming arte carved just past the Hunter's chest, crumbling through rubble with its thundering slash, as he side-stepped its deathly vicinity.
The Shepherd's expression tensed hard, blistering orbs of azure creasing sharp with an actual glimmer of shock coming to pass. The heat that boiled within the half-malak was akin to the imminent detonation of a volcano; hot magma scrambling through every vein and capillary as he scornfully glared down to the so-called 'Saviour'. Sarid made no snide comment, and simply threw the second - and last - of his two kunai outwards. Until...
Whoosh!
Fire blazed, the once winding ropes of wind replaced with searing vines of a crackling, violent inferno. And its scorching heat was raw, unadulterated power. As its savage intensity flayed from the half-malak in waves, all attention zeroed in from behind, the sheer flame instinctually wrestling back any who stood close by to the golden cage.
There he stood, hand clenched firm around the dagger; tendrils ablaze encircling him to fasten to where the second knife soared above. A boiling whip, scored by nature's passionate fire. And soon did he begin to swing, his arm twisting and twirling with a few spins of his body, the roping fire contorting around him and dicing the marble surroundings with its splicing string. His breaths pumped as it spun, crackling before it roared just as he did, flinging the scorching whip forwards and slamming it into the stalwart Shepherd.
"RAGH!"
BANG!
The Saviour's grunt was harsh, guttural as the strike blazed in a furious hellfire; encasing him with its bristling flame.
"ARGH!"
It was like tremendous waves of a burning sea, crescents ablaze hammering into where the presumed Legate stood.
BOOM!
His eyes bulged in fury, dotted violet alive with emotion.
A wrenching uppercut.
"Hah!"
BANG!
The firestorm roared, larger, wrathful.
He swung again.
"Ergh...!"
CRACK!
Rubble sailed, charred and aflame into the cyclone surrounding. Flashes encompassed his view, blinding blasts bursting in waves.
Again.
"RAH!"
BOOM!
Rokurou looked up, and his expression exploded into a beaming glow of a toothy grin and closed eyes.
Sarid smirked back, weighed by nostalgia.
"I could tell, he was the strongest person I had ever known."
Again.
BANG!
"You be the scout, and I know you'll do a real good job."
Sarid ruffled the young malak's blonde hair with a proud smirk, bringing a light to the verdant orbs that gazed from below.
And again!
CRACK!
"I can attest! You are definitely quite the strange one~."
Magilou sang with joy at terrorising the man before zipping off and out of distance, a wide and fiendish grin on her face.
BOOM!
"He may be right... and while I wouldn't say I know you too well. You're exactly what I need in my crew." The pirate rose from his seat with a unwinding click of his shoulder.
"Sail your ship to the end."
BANG!
There the two stood on that chilling coast, waves lapping near their boots, as the chidden sun soon sunk to its slumber.
A Therion in black, a Hunter in white, motionless in the icy breeze.
While a purple petaled flower sat free, and hidden, between the clothed fingers of a bandaged limb.
"And... thank you."
CRACK!
Sarid's glare was alight, hand ripping back the simmering whip as the kunai aloft sat crackling with flame; sizzling the steel red hot. And as his arm pulled up, the entwining flames raged with the hammering strike, twisting chains of fire slamming down into the devastated earth. In this profound detonation of power, did the knife atop well with a bulbous heat singing gold, before the weapon erupted.
"Ugh...!"
It's parts blown to pieces; the storm that raged in its wake came as a scorching tsunami: flame clambering akin to a ravenous beast to conjoin with the howling firestorm. A thunderous rumble, arcing jolts of lightning - teal and gold - crackling across the marred debris.
The figure within was wreathed with fire, and soon did the wave impact, sheering away the scorching flames into an aureate light that flashed with its bright conflagration. A deafening boom, and the detonation gave way to the crackling bellow of an angry blaze, a chorus of smoldering flame -- smothering the Shepherd inside as his shouts soon came to pass yet drowned out in the flame.
It was a wall of spitting fire, a great ravaging beast in of itself that blossomed from within this entrapment: wall to wall, floor to ceiling. And all eyes, doused with complete bewilderment, watched with no words to describe the volatile sight.
Even a lone iris of silver stared in amazement upon the gilded yet scarred crest of the man that stood hunched before his own blazing storm.
The final kunai hung from his knuckle, arm slumped motionless aside, barely holding onto the dangling knife. It shook, almost dropping the weapon to the stone below, yet he grunted, tightening his hold with a growl. An iridescent light shot out to puncture the seething storm, golden and sharp. With one last breath - not even sparing a look back - and dashed to the left.
Only emotion emboldened his figure to push onwards, and as he sprinted to the very precipice of these scorching clouds, Sarid wrestled the dagger to a backhanded grip before himself, and winced.
"A bit... more...!"
His heart banged with the rush, and out streaked shooting winds from the kunai's blade - etched with spitting embers and gilded sparks. The Hunter's remaining eye sparkled with a leaking lilac, and in his desperate sprint did he hold the kunai to bear. Steps from the bursting inferno, nearing the wall of this ruinous temple, did the half-malak leap.
Through swirling winds and rubble flung at egregious forces, his boots clapped against the engraved boundary, leading to a sprint up and across the wall. As he ran, coat bristling from the gales and boots crashing across the emblazoned wall, the fading firestorm at the centre beamed with an auric glow; familiar crackles of Innomniat's energy bursting through.
The kunai he held hummed with a brimming power of its own, twisting winds and flares aflame, until the half-malak eventually jumped from the wall he clambered across. The first boot clicked against swirling rubble, and soon did he dart over soaring debris swimming in the wind's current. Just for one, crucial moment.
In a great wisp of gold, was the crackling hellfire wisped away with a single, agitated streak. And there the Shepherd stood, attire worn and charred with numerous patches of black. Blotches upon his skin were hued a searing red, and the once proper silver hair was now doused with tinges of ember and cinder. Artorias's eyes scoured the landscape in the dissipating smog. Until, a great clap of thunder and a spry glint glared from his peripherals.
Merely a distraction.
Sarid's giant bound from the cyclone of ripped up remnants of this pious Throne threw him directly towards the place of the Saviour, and with the final original kunai held close, his father's hand guided him. The blade cracked with lightning, scorched hot with fire and dashed with the roar of a whirlwind; it ripped along the remains of his sleeve. And, the Hunter flipped it in his grip to a stabbing poise.
A pair of golden medallions flicked up to the shining insignia at the centre of this shocking wall of webs, before snapping down to the sinful daemonic appendage that wrestled beneath her veiling cloth.
One great shout was the war cry, long and loud, as Sarid thrust the tip right into the Shepherd's guard. Winds shrieked, thunder rumbled and cracked, and in a blinding light that burned akin to a breaking dawn: did he peacefully smile, as the white encompassed the remnants of their arena.
~~~
The Therion stood amongst the falling rays of golden webs, their crackling visage fading, from the shredded sigil bearing its weight having crumbled from her pulpisating vermillion talons. Her chest ached, rising and falling at a harsh pace, yet her lungs did not scramble for breath. Her boots scraped and crunched across the charred rumble that collapsed merely from her weight into a fine dust.
The thick and dreadful scent was carried atop the air, blackened specks tracing every flowing current of a moody grey. The claw swayed gently aside, the corrupted crimson flesh pulsing with its dark and dreary crimson, umbral talons twitching at every misplaced tick amongst the ruined hall. Her trailing cloak whipped amongst the settling ash, embers flickering at the remains of his final rebellion.
The smoke didn't have to clear for her to know.
Boots clicking to a standstill, a hanging cloth of white pierced the burnt veil, and a hail of scarlet had already fallen upon the beaten debris below. Drip, drip, was the fluids heavy song, and Velvet's golden - vacant - gaze seared through the steadily dating fog. Her breath had hitched in the silence, but the flow still pumped empty as it ever did. She didn't shout, she didn't weep, there was nothing. Only the glint of an unblinking hazel, staring through swishing shutters of black strands, bore into the sight in the middle of the Empyrean's Throne.
Where the sword of Artorias Collbrande, was threaded dead centre through the chest of a motionless Sarid. His kunai; shattered against the temple floor.
Just the same as he had done to her brother, all those years ago.
The Shepherd stood tall and composed in the wake of this chaos, hair kissed by falling cinders and great lengths of his pristeen garb charred to an onyx crisp; one thin tear strewn over the chest. Across his cheek, sat a thick gash wrought from the willful stab of a dagger, and blood seeped from its incision. His chest rose and fell, hefty, and the frozen blues remained sharp upon the lone man that caused it all.
Blood slithered like a vile, crimson snake, and out crackled the fading dregs of an empty chuckle. Plagued by the dire splutters of what his split lungs could spew, the glint of violet came alive for the final word one last time.
"Almost- b-beaten... by a dying man...".
And the light eventually fell away from an eye that held all of humanity.
The Saviour said nought, sparing only a telling glance to the daemon that stood unmoving. Before slinging the swaying body right to her feet with a dismissive grunt, the sickly squelch of the half-malak's tissue - torn from the blade stained vermillion - and sudden splatter was deafening, as the battered form rolled just against the worn steel of Velvet's feet.
The clacking of sprinting footsteps echoed from behind, hurried breaths racing out, before stilling just at the woman's flank. Velvet knew the ones that froze to a stop, and their voices soon crept out.
"...Damn it all..." muttered the voice of a sullen Reaper.
"No..." was the whimper of a distraught young malak.
She could only assume that the Samurai had held his head low, silent in respect. And the Witch, Velvet could never guess, for she never spoke.
The smog had fully sunk away now, revealing to the exorcists what had transpired within this powerful ensnarement. And the gasp of a particular Praetor was sharp and clear, yet the Therion could spare no care for the enemy at this very moment.
Artorias's boot clicked once over the cracked marble, attire bristling with his mild stumble. The longsword, laced with splotched blood, hammered into the earth in steady. His words were cold, but Velvet did not look up from where her sight remained sat.
"...This is the cost of emotion."
Clatter
The final artifact of a half-breed's legacy clattered to the ground's crystal sheen: the last kunai dropping to the side of his scarred body riddled in wounds.
Velvet sunk low, settling on her knees as she pulled the lifeless figure to face upward. The lonely eye of purple - faded and blank - was lidded shut, the other carved closed from a bloody straight scar that ran down it. His head of snowy tufts flowed in a dwindling breeze. The slight smile the expression wore stung, at peace with his fate even before the sword gouged skin.
"You idiot..." the daemoness mumbled quietly, the pair of glinting auric hard but brimming with a hidden softness. The woman's right palm coiled slow to a trembling close, and the unleashed limb sitting to the floor twitched once more, a guttural rumble shaking only her soul.
It moved.
Velvet's expression became doused with shadow, head hung low, as the claw fell over Sarid's unmoving figure; crawling up to his face with tremors of reluctance.
Her teeth were tense, openly barred as the Therion's jaw quivered. Her heart rang loud and overbearing, ringing the girl's eardrums soundless.
The appendage folded, and suddenly gripped fierce.
It held still, for what seemed like minutes, the final inkling of pressure needed was so simple - so easy - but it felt like crushing the strongest of all steel.
And soon the sickly sense of deja vu crawled up her spine, with its boney and crooked fingers, as her searing eyes clamped shut.
Badump...!
Badump...!
Crack!
Ivory pooled, splattering onto Velvet's cheek.
The sweet, addicting taste that was drunk deep by the ravenous urge, disgusted her.
And as the limb finished its horrible feast, slinking away to its clothed den with the brimming hunger satiated, the Wolf could only stare; motionless as the corpse before her. The strength that blazed within served none, tearing through flesh to fuel a body already withered to the last of its vestiges. Waking tendrils of a corrupted lilac, rising from her figure speckled black, attempting to rage with its wrathful flame. Until, the crooked fingers fell, and in the wake of this gruelling blight growing within, did Velvet's form finally give in.
Her vacant orbs slipped shut furthermore, closing out the festering scarlet that welled beneath gold, and she fell back. Thudding hard against the broken marble floor; her hair and coat enshrouded her figure as if it was a pool of blackened blood.
One final jolt of lightning sparked, an aureate volt leaping across her limb, that abruptly vanished in a gasping smog.
Darkness.
"Velvet!"
Laphicet's little steps hobbled over swift, sorrowfully looking over the dead half-malak with wet eyes, before sliding right next to the Therion's unconscious figure. The devouring of Sarid's flesh had restored many of the severe injuries enacted upon her body, yet the inner abuse could bear no longer.
A duo of speeding footsteps soon racked the halls, as the sibling Praetors finally decided to take their chance and put a stop to the restoration of the daemon. However, as Oscar neared the fatigued group to pass, a whirling fist nearly struck as he leapt back to his sister's side.
"No. Further."
Eizen pulled his fist up, firm and malignant, even as the weary battle grew heavy upon his slanted form. The rest of the band moved up alongside, standing protectively before the Therion and young boy -- additionally denying any more desecration of the brave Hunter's body. Rokurou's knives steadily rose, and Magilou tensed up with a tired frown while the stressed Bienfu could barely flap at her shoulders.
Teresa's orbs flicked to her brother's, before the frustrated verdant zipped to the traitorous malak that kneeled at the daemon's side, through the gap left by the misfits barring their way. Her staff stabbed out, accusingly pointed straight at the innocent boy. "Number 2! For your disobedience and betrayal, I order you to kill the daemon, then, end your own life!"
Laphicet stared down the sudden act boisterously stated by the Praetor, a hard frown coming over his features as he glared.
"...No."
His brows were narrowed fierce as he shook his head. The group similarly stood their ground, unmoving as the woman begin to seethe with frustration.
"Have you forgotten our pact?! Your mistress is giving you an order!"
Teresa's hand thrust outwards, and with a sudden blinding glimmer and jolt, the boy's posture was wrenched upwards as he shakily cried out with widened eyes. Rings of glinting teal surrounded him, mysterious runes twisting as the shocking punishment of a pact began to twist his body. However, the pearls snapped agape suddenly shut in defiance, teeth barred as Laphicet rebelled against its torturous control.
"I'm... sick of your orders!"
His eyes flicked to the motionless Velvet below.
"I...! I...!"
The great sigil encrested above the throne began to hum and glow, the blue veins of its insignia brimming gold with a high-pitched whir.
Artorias winced as he twisted on his feet, casting a bewildered look to the celestial insignia behind. "That aura...!" He exclaimed sharply, chilling irises focused intently on the boy.
"I don't want to lose anyone else!"
BWOOM!
The coalescing runes encircling him suddenly crackled and crumbled away with a rushing wave of power, blowing back the shocked Praetors in addition to sending the group stumbling from their vicinity. With an otherworldly drone shaking the air, a sudden split was carved within the space itself. A gaping black void, encrusted with a gilded tone akin to the humming symbol above the throne.
Eizen wasted no time, scrambling up and pulling the motionless Therion around his shoulders, as a kunai - now the last of its kind - was slung between her dangling fingers.
"Rokurou! Into the portal!"
"...Right!"
The Samurai similarly sprung up and plucked the now fainted Laphicet from the ground too, until he halted for just a moment, glancing back at the lifeless corpse of Sarid Barloc left bloodied upon the chamber centre. He shook his head with a wordless apology, matted in sorrow.
"You fought admirably... my friend."
And dashed back in tow with the sprinting Eizen, and leapt into the bellowing void of this mysterious portal.
"Hey, don't forget me!"
As did the running Witch, that dramatically leapt in after them with a tilt of her pompous hat.
However, one Praetor was not willing to let them escape her clutches again.
"You cannot escape!" Yelled the foolish Eleanor, darting after the vanishing menagerie with justice in her eyes. Until, the portal began to close, its slimming opening abruptly drawing in a large force of air, wrenching in the exorcist as her cries were silenced by the entrance.
While the watching Melchior cast a strange lavender orb to soar after, passing through just as the void snapped shut in a blinding flash; it's dissipating sparkles being all that remain.
The Legate stared on with the silver iris alive with intrigue. "Innomniat's power reacting with the earthpulse. Extraordinary."
With the symbol's fading auric hue being the last of the mystique to occur inside of the Empyrean's Throne, the injured Shepherd turned to look upon its now slumbering splendor with a dissatisfied shake of his head. "I begin to see..." he muttered lowly.
"Still... giving your brother's name to a malak..." Artorias turned to gaze at the devastation enacted throughout the reverent temple of his, its marble floors and once pristeen walls decorated with scratches, char and craters.
The Saviour glared down to the cold body gathering cinders from the flaking remnants, the blood of ancients seeping into every sinful crack wrought below.
"You've strayed so far..."