The air was heavy with the scent of blooming flowers, their fragrance mingling with the cool evening breeze. The setting sun cast a warm glow over the headstones, the golden light bathing the graves in a serene, almost holy, aura. A deep sense of peace washed over Typhion as he knelt there, the long journey he had undertaken, both physically and emotionally, finally bringing him to this moment of quiet reflection. "I've made it back." Typhion, His voice breaking the silence of the cemetery. Yet, the silence remained, as if the very air around him understood the significance of his words and chose to hold its breath in reverence. The gravestones stood silently before him, he took a deep breath, his hands resting on the cool, smooth stone of his parents' graves. His heart was heavy with the weight of his words, each one carefully chosen to convey the depth of his feelings. "I have a new life to live now and someone to call my own, I will do everything in my power to protect her and her family, unlike I was unable to do with all of you." Typhion, He paused, the weight of his promise settling in his chest. The silence around him seemed to deepen, as if the very earth beneath him was absorbing his words, holding them close in acknowledgment of the vow he was making.
Finally, he stood up from the graves, his back straight and his heart resolute. "I won't let your sacrifices be in vain. I'll honor your memory and ensure that your legacy endures." Typhion, The setting sun cast a long shadow behind him, the light of the day slowly fading. Typhion lingered for a moment longer, allowing the peace of the graveyard to fill him, before he turned and rejoined Xavier, who had respectfully waited at a distance. The old man's eyes were filled with understanding, his presence a silent support for the younger man who had just faced the ghosts of his past. "I need one more thing from my family." Typhion, Xavier looked at him with a hint of confusion. "What do you need from them?" Xavier, His voice gentle, as if unsure of what more Typhion could ask from the departed. "Did any of their possessions survive the fire?" Typhion, He had long wondered if anything had remained from the life he once knew, something more tangible that he could hold onto, a connection to the family he had lost.
Xavier pondered for a moment, his brow furrowing in thought as he searched his memory. Then, a look of realization crossed his face, and he nodded. "Yes, something did survive." Xavier said, his voice tinged with a note of discovery. "They had a chest of their most precious belongings. It was stored in the church vaults, kept safe from harm." Xavier, He led Typhion back into the church, they retraced their steps through the dimly lit hallway, each echoing footstep reverberating off the cold stone walls. Xavier led Typhion through a side door that opened onto a narrow stone staircase spiraling down into the earth below the main church. As they descended, the air grew noticeably cooler, the warmth of the sanctuary above gradually fading into the ancient, subterranean chill. The walls, once smooth and polished, became rougher.
At the bottom of the stairs, they came to a heavy, iron-bound door, its surface pitted and scarred from centuries of use. Xavier produced a large, ornate key from within his robes, the metal gleaming faintly in the dim light. With a practiced hand, he inserted the key into the massive lock. The sound of the tumblers turning was deep and resonant. The door creaked open slowly, revealing a chamber steeped in shadows and the musty scent of old parchment and ancient wood. The room beyond was filled with shelves of old books and scrolls, each one meticulously organized despite the layers of dust and cobwebs that adorned them. Rows of wooden chests, some small and delicate, others large and formidable, lined the walls. Each chest was marked with a name or symbol, some almost completely obscured by dust, while others bore the signs of more recent use. The room was cool and dark, lit only by a few flickering torches along the walls, their flames casting long, dancing shadows.
Xavier led Typhion to a chest near the back of the room, its wood gleaming softly in the torchlight. Unlike some of the others that showed the wear of centuries, this chest was in a more pristine condition. The chest bore a crest, a symbol Typhion had not seen in years but recognized instantly, the symbol of his family. "This chest contains your parents' most cherished belongings." Xavier, He stepped aside, allowing Typhion to approach the chest alone, understanding that this moment was something deeply personal. Typhion knelt before the chest, his hands trembling slightly as he carefully lifted the lid. The hinges creaked softly, a sound that seemed to echo in the stillness of the chamber. Inside, the chest was lined with deep crimson velvet, the fabric still rich and vibrant despite the years. Resting within were several items, each one carefully preserved as though they had been waiting for this moment.
The first item he saw was a delicate piece of clothing, a dress that had belonged to his mother. The fabric was light, woven with intricate patterns of gold and silver thread that shimmered faintly in the dim light. He ran his fingers over it, remembering the time she had worn it for the announcement of his new sibling. Next, there was a bundle of letters tied together with a faded ribbon. The parchment was yellowed with age, the ink faded but still legible. He didn't need to read them to know they were filled with the words of his family. His gaze then shifted to a small, weathered book that looked like a journal, its cover cracked and worn but the pages within still intact, holding the thoughts and experiences of a life lived with purpose. But what caught his attention most was a giant book resting below the other items. Its cover was made of heavy leather, embossed with a crest. Typhion recognized it instantly. This was the family album, a record of their lineage, filled with photos, sketches, and notes that told the story of his family. His heart pounded in his chest as his fingers brushing against the cover. He lifted out of the chest and opened it to a random page and was immediately presented with multiple photos. The main picture was of his family in a group, their faces radiating happiness and love. And there, in the center of it all, was him as an infant, cradled in his mother's arms. Beneath the photo were the words, "Adoption Day. Welcoming our new son."
Typhion placed his hand on the photo, a flood of emotions washing over him. The weight of everything he had been through, the losses he had endured, and the revelations he had uncovered, all came crashing down on him. The tears he had held back for so long finally began to well up in his eyes, his heart aching with a mixture of love, grief, and gratitude. "Your family loved you very much." Xavier, He stepping closer and placing a comforting hand on Typhion's shoulder. His voice was soft, filled with the kind of warmth that only years of wisdom and experience could bring. "They found you in a storm, surrounded by black feathers." Xavier, Typhion pulled his hand away from the page, closing his fist tightly as a mix of anger and sadness swirled within him. "Black feathers." Typhion, The memory of the fallen angel attack was painfully vivid in his mind, the black feathers a symbol that had torn his world apart.
Xavier's grip on his shoulder tightened, offering support in the face of Typhion's emotional turmoil. "Yes. It was a miracle they found you and brought you into their lives. They cherished you, Typhion. They knew something was special about you; they just didn't know what." Xavier, His words grounding Typhion in the reality of the love that had surrounded him all those years. Typhion took a deep breath, trying to steady himself amidst the storm of emotions. "Thank you, Xavier, these mean more to me than you could ever know." Typhion, Xavier nodded, his expression warm. "Take your time, Typhion. This is your family's legacy. It belongs to you now." Xavier, Stepping back to give Typhion the space he needed to absorb the significance of what he had just been given.
Typhion spent several moments in silence, his eyes scanning the photos, the letters, the journal, and the clothing. The photos, the memories, and the knowledge of his family's sacrifice all weighed heavily on him. But amidst the pain, there was also a sense of purpose, a resolve that began to take shape within him. With great care, Typhion gently closed the book and placed it back in the chest. He then turned to Xavier. "I will be blunt, do you know what became of their exorcist equipment?" Typhion, Xavier stayed silent for a moment, his face contemplative as he weighed the question. Finally, he spoke, his tone measured. "We keep them in a separate part of the church for whenever a new candidate is selected." Xavier, His voice tinged with a note of caution. "Why do you ask?" Xavier, Typhion's gaze was unwavering, his resolve clear. "I have a need for them, to kill the ones responsible for my family's death." Typhion, Xavier nodded slowly, understanding Typhion's request. "Your parents were exceptional exorcists," he said, his voice filled with a deep respect. "We will not see their kind in this generation, but their equipment was indeed extraordinary. If anyone deserves to wield it, it's you. Follow me." Xavier, He led Typhion through a series of corridors, each turn taking them deeper into the heart of the church.
They finally reached a heavily fortified door, its surface adorned with ancient runes and symbols of protection. Two sentinels, clad in ceremonial armor, stood at attention on either side of the door, their expressions stoic and their eyes sharp. As Xavier approached, the sentinels nodded respectfully, recognizing the authority he carried. "This is where we keep the most sacred and powerful artifacts of the church." Xavier, He produced another large, ornate key. The door, groaned as it opened, revealing a dimly lit room filled with various weapons and armors, each one carefully preserved and displayed with the utmost respect. The room was a treasure trove of holy relics, a sanctuary where the tools of the trade for exorcists of the highest order were kept safe. Weapons of all shapes and sizes adorned the walls, they shimmering faintly in the torchlight. Armors, some ancient and battle-worn, others pristine and untouched, stood on mannequins. Xavier guided Typhion to a specific section where four sets of gear stood prominently on display, each one carefully maintained and preserved. "These belonged to your family." Xavier, He gestured with one hand towards a set. "Your father's cloak sword, revolvers, and shotgun, and your mother's staff and protective robes." Xavier, He gestured to two more sets. "Your brother's sword and shield and Templar armor, and your sister's bracers and hidden blades." Xavier, Typhion stepped forward, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight of the gear that had once belonged to his family. The room was silent save for the faint flicker of the torches, their light casting a warm glow over the sacred artifacts.
Typhion first approached his father's set. The cloak was crafted from thick, weather-resistant fabric, its surface a deep, shadowy black, accented with a luxurious collar of black fur that seemed to absorb the dim light. His father's sword rested on the mannequin's hip, the scabbard was made of polished ebony wood with silver accents, the grip wrapped in fine leather, worn smooth. His father's revolvers, resting in well-worn leather holsters. Their dark metallic finish gleamed with careful maintenance. On the mannequin's back was a shotgun. Next, he stood before his mother's staff. It was an elegant and graceful weapon, shimmering in the low light. The long metal shaft was polished to a mirror-like sheen. Her protective robes hung nearby, draped over another mannequin. They were a flowing black, embroidered with red filigree that curled and wove into complex designs along the sleeves and hem. The fabric itself was of the highest quality, durable yet flexible, allowing for swift, unhindered movement in battle. As Typhion moved to the next set, his brother had been a Templar. The sword was long. The hilt was simple but strong, wrapped in leather for a firm grip, with a Templar cross engraved near the pommel. The shield, large and robust, bore the unmistakable symbol of the Templar order—the red cross standing out boldly against a field of white. Finally, Typhion's gaze fell upon his sister's gear. The bracers were sleek and lightweight, made of steel with intricate etchings along the surface. The blades, two small swords shaped like bowie knives—were razor-sharp and perfectly balanced. The hilts were wrapped in dark leather, and the blades gleamed with a deadly light. Their compact size made them ideal for swift, lethal strikes, emphasizing agility over brute force. His sister had always fought with finesse and precision, her movements like a dancer, and these weapons reflected her style perfectly.
He reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and gently touched the hilt of his father's sword. The cool metal sent a shiver through him. As his fingers traced the intricate designs on the hilt. Xavier, who had been watching in respectful silence, placed a hand on Typhion's shoulder once more, the older man's eyes filled with a deep, abiding respect. "What do you plan on doing with their equipment?" Xavier, He let go of Typhion's shoulder, stepping back to give him space to consider the question. "I don't know." Typhion, His eyes still fixed on the relics before him. The idea of using his family's sacred tools in battle filled him with both pride and an overwhelming sense of loss. The thought of them being damaged or destroyed was almost unbearable.
Xavier moved away from Typhion, sensing his turmoil, and approached a nearby drawer. He rummaged through it for a moment, the sound of wood scraping against wood filling the silence. After a moment, he pulled out a long sheet of paper, yellowed with age. Typhion watched with curiosity as Xavier carefully spread the sheet out on a nearby table and then motioned for him to come closer. On the paper was a detailed drawing of swords, the blades are angular in contour and a rectangular hole along the inner edge of the blade for the hilt. The hilt is squircle in shape, with a blade that extends down past the hilt forming a curve. From the back of the hilt to the tip of the blade forward is 30" in length with a single edge, with a gradual blade edge to the hilt. The blade is 5" in width at the thickest at the hilt. The handle is 5" in length with a 1" gap. The sword ends with a 20" that slightly curves towards the back side then goes into an angular contour, with the blade edge continuing to the end, being flat on the back side. The blade was depicted with groves etched into the metal. "We tried making these swords a reality." Xavier, his voice tinged with frustration. "But no matter what we did, the swords would fall apart. The materials we used simply couldn't hold the design together." Xavier, Typhion examined the drawings closely, his mind racing as he tried to understand the challenge.
The design was indeed complex, likely requiring both immense skill and the use of specialized materials to achieve. But it was more than that—the swords seemed to call for something beyond the ordinary, something imbued with power, with history. "With what material?" Typhion, Xavier pointed to the family equipment resting on the stands, his gaze steady. "We can use your father's sword, and your brother's sword and shield." Xavier, Typhion's eyes widened in shock and anger, his hand immediately grabbing Xavier by the collar and pulling him close. "You're implying I desecrate their memories by destroying their equipment?" Typhion, his grip tightening as the fury in his heart ignited. His eye burned with the intensity of his emotions, his entire body tensing as he prepared to lash out.
The guards in the room, alerted by Typhion's sudden movement, stepped forward with weapons drawn, but Xavier raised his hand, signaling them to stop. "That is not what I mean, Typhion." Xavier, He kept his hands to his sides, showing no intention of fighting back, his eyes locked with Typhion's in an attempt to convey his sincerity. "We can repurpose them," Xavier, His voice steady, despite Typhion's grip on him. "They will find a new use, one that honors their legacy. We do this with the regular exorcists as well. We melt down the equipment of those who have passed and repurpose them for the next exorcist's specialty. It's a way of passing on their strength and ensuring their sacrifice continues to protect others." Xavier, Typhion's grip loosened as he processed Xavier's words.
The anger in his eyes began to fade, replaced by a contemplative look. He released Xavier and took a step back, his gaze shifting back to the family equipment with a new perspective. The idea of repurposing their gear slowly began to take root in his mind, the logic of it sinking in. "Repurposing their gear..." Typhion, The idea was not of destruction, but of transformation—of giving his family's legacy a new life, one that would continue to protect, just as they had done. It was not a desecration, but a way to carry their memory forward, to ensure that their sacrifices were not in vain.
Xavier straightened his collar, the tension in the room dissipating as he nodded in agreement. "Exactly. By using their equipment to forge new weapons, you'll be carrying a piece of them with you, ensuring their strength and protection continue to live on through you." Xavier, Typhion looked back at the drawings on the table, then at the equipment on the stands. The swords, the shield, the staff—they were all symbols of his family's love, courage, and dedication. But they were also tools of war, meant to protect and defend. By repurposing them, he would be honoring that purpose, allowing his family's legacy to continue through him.
Finally, Typhion nodded, his decision made. "I'll do it, I'll use their equipment to forge these swords. Their legacy will live on through the battles I fight, through the lives I protect." Typhion, Xavier smiled, a sense of relief and pride washing over him. "Your parents would be proud, Typhion." Xavier, his voice filled with sincerity. "You are the living embodiment of their hopes and dreams, and with these new weapons, you'll ensure that their legacy continues to shine." Xavier, Typhion took a deep breath, the weight of his decision settling on his shoulders. But it was not a burden; it was a responsibility, one he was ready to bear. He looked down at the designs one last time, then at the equipment that had been left behind.
A group of people carefully transported Typhion's family's equipment from the church's underground vault to the courtyard, where a series of tables had been arranged. The courtyard, usually a serene place filled with the sounds of prayer and quiet reflection, was now bustling with activity. Curious onlookers and church members gathered around, eager to see the legendary items that had been stored away for so long. The air was thick with anticipation, the sun casting long shadows as it began to set.
On one table, the two swords and shield were placed with great care, the metal glinting in the fading light. The swords, once wielded by Typhion's father and brother, along with his brother's shield. On another table lay the rest of the equipment: his brother's armor and his cloak lay beside each other, his mother's staff, and her robes. And his sister's bracers and swords. Typhion stood before the tables, his expression somber as he took in the sight of his family's legacy laid out before him. "What will you do with the items we won't be using?" Xavier, Finally beaking the silence.
Typhion looked thoughtful, his eyes moving from one item to the next. "I have an idea for them, Do you have anyone here who knows sewing?" Typhion, Xavier nodded, glancing around at the gathered crowd. "Yes, we do." Xavier, A woman stepped forward, she was no older than Typhion. "It's a pleasure to meet the son of Nicholas and Rosemarie." Woman, Her voice was warm and sincere. "Your father helped save my mother from a devil many years ago. Whatever I can do to assist you, I'm here to help." Woman, Typhion nodded respectfully, appreciating her connection to his family. "Thank you, I want to repurpose my mother's robes, and my father's cloak into a set of clothing that is combines the hidabilty of my father's cloak and my mothers robes mobility. It needs to be practical and lightweight, yet strong enough to offer protection in battle." Typhion, The woman smiled warmly, understanding the importance of the task she was being entrusted with. "I understand, I will do my utmost to create something that honors your family's legacy while serving your needs." Woman, She bowed slightly, then motioned to two assistants who stepped forward to gather the items. They carefully collected the cloak, and robes, together they headed into the church to begin their work.
Typhion watched them go, a sense of relief washing over him as he knew the items were in good hands. But there was still something he needed to do before the forging could begin. "Before we begin, I need to do something." Typhion, Xavier nodded in understanding, sensing the gravity of the moment. Without a word, he motioned for everyone to leave, giving Typhion the privacy he needed. The crowd slowly dispersed, the murmurs of curiosity and respect fading as they returned to their duties or retreated into the church.
Once he was alone in the courtyard, Typhion took a deep breath and opened his palm, summoning a magic circle with a soft glow. The circle pulsed with energy, and after a moment, the image of Tsubaki appeared within it. "Took you long enough." Tsubaki, Her tone playful but with an edge of impatience. She yawned, clearly tired. "Do you know how long I've waited?" Typhion couldn't help but smile at her familiar teasing. "I'm sorry. I meant to contact you earlier, but I was stopped on my way into town by the church, and a lot has happened." Typhion, She yawned again, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. "It would seem so. Did everything go as planned?" Tsubaki, Her image shifting as she tried to get into a more comfortable position, her curiosity piqued. "Yes, and more." Typhion, His voice trailing off as he thought about the day's revelations and the weight of his decisions. "Like what?" Tsubaki, Her eyes narrowing slightly as she sensed something significant.
Typhion paused, pondering how to explain everything that had happened, but he knew he needed to be direct. "I will be here for a bit longer. I'm sorry, my love," he said, his voice heavy with the burden of what he was about to ask of her. Tsubaki's expression shifted, her features tightening with concern and a hint of agitation. "How much longer?" Tsubaki, Her voice betraying the frustration she was trying to hide. Typhion sighed, knowing this wasn't going to be easy for either of them. "No more than year and half. I only came here to get closure, but I will be reforging my family's exorcist equipment into weapons." Typhion, He was trying to convey the importance of what he was undertaking.
Tsubaki didn't respond immediately, her silence heavy with disappointment. Typhion could see the struggle in her eyes as she tried to reconcile her feelings, her love for him battling with her frustration at the extended separation. Finally, she sighed, her features softening a bit, though the sadness lingered. "I understand, Typhion. It's just hard being away from you. I miss you." Tsubaki, Her voice was quiet, tinged with a vulnerability she rarely showed. He sighed again, his heart aching at the sight of her distress. "I miss you too, but I'll be come back even stronger, ready to stand by your side once more. I promise." Typhion, Tsubaki nodded, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Just promise me you'll stay safe and come back to me unharmed." Tsubaki, Her voice cracking slightly as she struggled to maintain her composure. "I promise." Typhion, He tried to convey all the love and reassurance he could through the small image.
Tsubaki managed a small smile, though it was tinged with sadness. "Alright. I'll be waiting for you. Don't take longer, okay?" Tsubaki, Her voice softer now, resigned to the situation but still holding onto hope. "I won't." Typhion, With that, the image faded, leaving Typhion standing alone in the courtyard. He turned back to the tables, Xavier emerged from the church, his expression curious as he approached Typhion. "What do you plan to do with the rest of the items?" Xavier, Typhion didn't immediately respond. Instead, he took a deep breath and summoned his Sacred Gear. The sight of the Sacred Gear took Xavier by surprise; his eyes widened in shock and awe. "That's what they look like? There's no information on what they look like or who their wielders have been." Xavier, Typhion remained silent, his focus on the task at hand. He reached for his sister's bracers and blades, his expression unreadable. As soon as his fingers touched the items, the markings on his gauntlets began to glow with a soft light. The glow intensified, and in an instant, the bracers and blades vanished, absorbed into the gauntlets. The glowing stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
He rolled his forearms and flexed his fingers, testing the integration of the new components. With a swift motion, he closed his fists, and hidden blades emerged from the tops of the gauntlets, glinting in the dim light. Typhion swung his arms with precision, practicing a few quick strikes to familiarize himself with the blades. Satisfied, he opened and closed his fists again, retracting the blades into the gauntlets with a soft click. But as Typhion stood there, adjusting to the absorption of his sister's gear, something went wrong. His expression suddenly contorted in pain, and he clutched at his chest, falling to one knee. The color drained from his face as his breathing grew labored. Xavier, who had been watching intently, panicked and ran towards him, but stopped short when Typhion raised a hand to halt him.
Typhion's gauntlets began to change shape, the flat bone plates that initially covered his forearms began to morph, becoming more intricate and varied in texture. Some plates remained flat, while others became rounded, creating a complex pattern across his forearms. The bone extended down to cover his hands. The transformation was painful, each change sending waves of agony through Typhion's body. He gritted his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead as he endured the process. After what felt like an eternity, the changes finally subsided. The gauntlets had finished adjusting, and the pain began to recede. Typhion slowly got back to his feet, though his legs shook slightly from the strain. He stood up straight, but the toll of the transformation was evident in the lines of pain etched on his face.
Xavier, who had been watching helplessly, stepped forward again, concern written all over his features. "What was that about?" Xavier, Typhion took a moment to catch his breath before answering. "For some reason, my Sacred Gear takes nutrients, mostly from my body's calcium and iron supply, to manifest. It drains me physically, which is why I don't use the gauntlets all that much." Typhion, Xavier's eyes widened in understanding. "That sounds dangerous. You must be careful not to overexert yourself." Xavier, His tone was firm yet gentle. Typhion nodded in agreement. "I know, but integrating my sister's equipment into my Sacred Gear will now give me an incentive to use them in combat. It's a risk, but one that could be worth it." Typhion, He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the lingering tension from the transformation, Xavier spoke again, curiosity evident in his tone. "Do you get anything back when you absorb them?" Xavier, Typhion looked down at his gauntlets, flexing his fingers as if testing their new capabilities. "I don't know, but I hope I do." Typhion, Xavier placed a reassuring hand on Typhion's shoulder, offering a comforting presence. "You're carrying a heavy burden, Typhion. But you're not alone. I'm here to help you." Xavier, Typhion smiled faintly, appreciating Xavier's words more than he could express. "Thank you. It means a lot, but I'm not done yet." Typhion, He stood before his brother's armor, his breath steady as he reached out to touch it.
The markings on Typhion's gauntlets glowed, as he watched, the same glow began to creep over his brother's armor. It started faintly, a faint shimmer along the edges of the steel, but soon the entire surface of the armor was bathed in the luminescence. His breath grew shallow, he clenched his fists, bracing himself for what was coming, feeling the energy gathering in the space between himself and the armor. As the glow reached its peak, the light on the armor grew blinding, forcing Typhion to narrow his eye. His brother's armor shimmered, the steel plates dissolved before his eyes into his sacred gear. Then all of a sudden it hit him like a tidal wave. His body seized, every muscle locking in place as the energy poured into him, filling him beyond capacity. His senses were overwhelmed, his vision blurred, his hearing reduced to the deafening roar of raw power cascading through his veins. His heartbeat was erratic, pounding in his chest like a war drum, Typhion's legs buckled under the pressure. He collapsed to one knee, gasping for breath as his body struggled
The armor returned with brutal force, materializing on Typhion's body in a blinding flash of light. Each piece slammed into place with a violent snap, sending shockwaves through his core. The breastplate locked onto his chest with a bone-crushing pressure, constricting his lungs, making it difficult to draw breath. He gasped, his muscles tensing as the heavy metal grinding against his skin. The greaves, spaulders, and other segments of the armor followed, snapping into position one by one, each piece adding to the growing weight that threatened to pull him under. The armor moved to fit him more perfectly, every curve and joint designing to fit him, yet there was an unnatural tightness to it, as if it were rejecting his body while simultaneously consuming it. Then the pain came. A searing, white-hot agony ripped through his muscles and bones as the armor began to draw from his very essence to manifest fully. It wasn't just the physical weight that crushed him—it was the cost.
The armor wasn't just appearing; it was feeding, siphoning his life force, pulling from the depths of his soul to anchor itself to him. His muscles burned as if they were being torn apart from the inside, and his bones felt as though they were being twisted and shattered by an invisible hand. Every nerve was on fire, each pulse of the armor sending jagged bolts of pain through his veins. Typhion gritted his teeth, his body trembling as he struggled to remain upright, every ounce of willpower focused on staying on his feet. But the force was too great. The pain came in waves, each one more intense than the last, crashing through him like a storm, leaving destruction in its wake. His legs buckled beneath the weight, and despite his best efforts, he collapsed to his side with a heavy thud. His fingers dug into the dirt, his nails clawing at the earth as he convulsed under the immense pressure.
A guttural scream ripped from his throat, as the pain intensified, threatening to tear him apart from within. His body trembled violently, muscles twitching uncontrollably as the armor continued to bind itself to him. Each piece felt like it was crushing him, squeezing his ribs, pressing down on his lungs, choking the life out of him. The metal was cold, unforgiving, yet it burned like molten fire where it touched his skin. The sharp edges of the plates pressed into his ribs, digging deeper with each pulse, as though the armor was alive, testing his limits. Typhion's breath came in ragged gasps, every inhale a struggle as the weight of the armor pressed down on his chest. His vision blurred, darkness creeping at the edges of his sight, threatening to pull him under. He clutched his sides, fingers trembling as he tried to hold himself together, but the pain was relentless. It coursed through his veins like liquid fire, setting every nerve ablaze. Time lost all meaning in the agony. It felt like hours as the armor continued to drain him, feeding on his strength, leaving him gasping and broken on the ground. His mind was a haze of pain and exhaustion, barely clinging to consciousness as the weight of the armor crushed him deeper into the earth.
Then, slowly—agonizingly slowly—the pain began to ebb. It didn't fade completely, but the intensity lessened, leaving behind a dull, throbbing ache that still echoed in his bones. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, each one a struggle. His arms shook as he tried to push himself off the ground, muscles weak and trembling from the ordeal. The dirt beneath him was smeared with blood where his fingers had clawed into the earth, his nails cracked and raw. His body, though bruised and battered, was still intact. But it felt like he had been through a war. Typhion lay there for a moment longer, his mind swimming with the weight of what had just happened. Finally, Typhion forced himself to stand, his body screaming in protest with every agonizing movement. His limbs felt as though they were made of lead. Each move was slow, deliberate. As Typhion forced his eyes open, his breath ragged and shallow, he glanced down at his body. The armor, once gleaming and polished under his brother's care, had transformed. Its once-shiny metal had dulled, now a ghostly bone-white, as if the life had been drained from it—absorbed entirely by his sacred gear.
Typhion clenched his fists, the new sensation of the gauntlets strange and alien as his muscles screamed in defiance. His knuckles whitened under the pressure, but even his grip felt stronger. The armor, now fully absorbed into his sacred gear, was a part of him. He pushed himself to a knee, the movement slow and torturous, each muscle in his body protesting the effort with waves of searing pain. His legs trembled under the weight. His entire body was shaking, drenched in sweat, his vision blurred. Slowly, he shifted his weight, pushing his other foot into the ground as he prepared to stand fully. His body screamed in protest, his muscles taut and aching, but he forced himself through it. The dull, throbbing pain in his chest reminded him that the armor had taken its toll, and yet he persisted.
As Typhion slowly rose to his full height, he noticed a crowd had gathered, their faces a mixture of curiosity and fear, drawn by the echoing screams from moments before. The tension in the air was palpable, the murmurs of the onlookers adding to the charged atmosphere. Xavier approached Typhion, his eyes scanning him for any sign of injury. "Are you alright?" Xavier, Typhion, still catching his breath, gave a slow nod, his expression stoic. "I'll manage." Typhion, His voice steady but had a weight of fatigue. He slowly flexed his limbs, testing his limbs. The crowd watched in silent awe, their attention fixed on Typhion as if expecting an explanation or the next part of some grand spectacle. His towering figure, wrapped in his segmented armor and shadowed by his dark cloak, exuded an intimidating presence that only added to their hesitation. The air seemed thick with anticipation, every eye locked on him as murmurs spread through the onlookers.
Xavier's gaze swept over them before he turned to face the crowd fully, his lips tightening with mild irritation. His voice cut through the tension with authority. "Everything is alright! Go about your duties!" Xavier, His tone left no room for argument. The crowd hesitated for a brief moment longer, still curious, but the weight of Xavier's words convinced them otherwise. Slowly, they began to disperse, murmuring amongst themselves as they returned to their tasks. The heavy atmosphere gradually lifted, and the normal rhythm of life resumed, though the occasional glance was still cast in Typhion's direction. As the last of the onlookers left, Typhion exhaled a quiet breath, feeling the weight of their stares lift. His limbs still ached from the earlier exertion, but he kept his expression composed, refusing to show any sign of weakness. With steady, deliberate steps, he made his way to the table on the far side of the area, where the items had been laid out. Xavier remained nearby, his eyes never straying far from Typhion, still silently assessing him. "Anything you need?" Xavier, Typhion shook his head slightly, he closed his fist. "I'll manage." Typhion, Xavier reached out, intending to offer a reassuring hand on Typhion's shoulder, but at the last moment, he hesitated. His hand hovered briefly before he pulled it back, clenching it into a fist by his side. He knew Typhion didn't need comfort, Xavier's eyes shifted to the staff lying among the items on the table. "What's the plan with the staff?" Xavier, His nod toward the staff was almost imperceptible, but Typhion caught it immediately. Typhion's eyes flicked to the staff, lingering for a moment as if he were considering the very same question. "I'm not sure yet." Typhion, His fingers brushing the staff. Xavier watched him, his brows knitting in thought.
Aurhor's notes
Sorry it took me so long to update, I just really haven't had real motivation to upload any new chapters, but now I plan on releasing one chapter every week or every other week. As always, leave a review on what I can improve on.
Story notes
Sacred Gears Appearance: At first it was just flat segmented plates of bones that cover the forearms and hands. After absobing his brother and sister's exorcist gear, the chest piece is layers of overlapping bone plates. The breastplate itself is contoured, and it extends into a wide waist-guard made of thick plates that provide additional protection to the abdomen and sides. The pauldrons are broad and angular. Each shoulder guard is adorned with a series of ridges. The gauntlets are curved overlapping plates. The fingers of the gauntlets are segmented into rounded tips. The forearm section is heavily armored, with layered plating that extends from the wrist up to the elbow. The arms and legs are similarly reinforced with plating, shaped to allow flexibility in movement while maintaining protection. The boots feature boney ridges and angular designs.
Domots- His main swords that are one handed longswords that are made of two parts mainly. The main blade is angular in contour and a rectangular hole along the inner edge of the blade for the hilt. The hilt is squircle in shape, with wrapping as a grip, with a blade that extends down past the hilt forming a curve. From the back of the hilt to the tip of the blade forward is 30" in length with a single edge, with a gradual blade edge to the hilt. The blade is 5" in width at the thickest at the hilt. The handle is 5" in length with a 1" gap. The sword ends with a 20" that slightly curves towards the back side then goes into an angular contour, with the blade edge continuing to the end, being flat on the back side. There are groves that run throughout the blades.
Pelosus-They also conceal a hidden blade on each arm. They have groves running throughout the blade which glow when imputed with his power. The blades resemble a bowie knife that is 45" in length.
Taurus: Is a powerful and robust revolver. It has a distinctive, aggressive appearance with a large, six-shot cylinder chambered for the .454 Casull cartridge. The revolver's frame is made from durable, steel, with a silver matte finish. The barrel is 6.75" length that is topped with a ventilated rib to help reduce heat buildup during extended firing. The barrel itself is stainless steel. The grip is contoured with finger grooves and has a red stripe running along the back. It is double-action.