Siege on the City of Heroes - South, Part 2(EVENT)

[Vincent]

Vincent made his vows but he had yet to act upon them. He did not wish to fight with Burt. His desire for combat was long ended but to quit on a battlefield is give yourself to death. Perhaps he could keep fighting the lesser enemies. Let the stronger fighters deal with the likes of Burt. He would not have to strike him down nor risk becoming like him.

As he debated others were taking up the fight. Fighters much stronger than he. They could handle it. He wanted to leave it as such but he could never forgive himself. He was running out of gear now but it was worth it. "May your mark be true." Vincent drew his knife once more. One last throw for it. Does a monster feel pain? Can a monster feel pain? Let's find out.

With a deep breath he prepared. Less power more skill and speed. Charging forward Vincent threw the knife for Burt's heel. That blade is concern but if he can cut off his arm then maybe it can be ended quickly. He's fought users of dark magic many times. He knows the way it twists and firms but it is always growing in power it seemed. As the luna faded Vincent drew in close striking for the arm. If he hit it may be devastating. If Burt drew back to avoid Vincent would have a split moment to escape his range.

[Oya]

Eager to end this battle Oya charged forward. Xigshaw was more than ready to receive the praises of glory for taking down the monstrous beast. However Hargus had other plans. As the pirate charged forward he released a blast of dark magic. The force hit the ground and summoned up tendrils from the beyond and began to lash out at the charging brute. Already in full charge Oya had to result to desperate measures to avoid running through the echo of dark magic. With a mighty swing of Xigsahaw Oya brought his moment to a halt as the earth felt the mighty roar of his hammer. The blow killed his momentum, however it did not remove him from the range of the magic. As Oya attempted to regain his balance a single tentacle whipped out and slashed at his left leg. The pain of being cut from a force from beyond echoed through Oya's body, but the damage was minimum compared to the blow dealt to him by the cyclopes from before. Eager to escape and wary of injury Oya jumped back using the strength of his right leg and Xigsahws magic.

"Crap another injury", spoke Oya as he looked down at his leg. The wound had some depth, but nothing crippling or serious life threatening. Oya then removed his shirt and ripped a good portion of it off and turned it into a bandage. Bounding the wound Oya stuffed the rest of the cloth into his back pocket as he stood on the battlefield bare chested and holding his mighty hammer. As Oya looked toward the demon king he saw rage in his eyes and dark magic drawing to his arms. He was planning something and Oya was sure it was not going to be pretty.

"Holy #$%^", shouted Oya as the demon king reared up to fire his unholy orb. The pirate knew better than to be in range once he released. Calling once again upon the power of his mighty hammer Oya jumped backwards with the full fury of Xigshaw. The magic enhanced the power of his legs and propelled him backwards. However the force created from the blast was far greater than what Oya had imagined. The moment Oya's feet touched the ground he was greeted by the shock wave. Dust, dirt, glass, and whatever was blown his way slammed into him like a siege weapon. Oya could feel the debris slamming into his flesh, but his mighty hammer Xigshaw, ever vigilant, brought forth a new power Oya had not known he had. His skin harden, almost as stone, as he flew back and smashed into the earth. His new found power did not block all the damage from the exploitation, but it did mediate what would have been a crippling blow.

"What power", spoke Oya as he stared on in horror as tentacles wiggled from the earth and lashed out at all living things. Still capable of standing Oya brought himself to his feet as Xigshaw beckoned him to fight. The hammer still sought glory even in this situation. Oya on the other hand was starting to doubt there ability to slay the monster. Even after all they have done it still moved and still could fight. Such destructive power. "And we were helping this thing", spoke Oya aloud. He was starting to see the error in his ways, but it is too late to regret. There was no point in thinking onto the past at the moment. They had already turned on Hargus and they did not deliver the city to him. That was enough. Now it was time for him and the others to put this monster down.

"How in the world do you kill something that powerful", spoke Oya as he stared at the still raging crater. They were going to need a plan, or a miracle. But maybe, just maybe, if he could strike the beast with Xigshaw he could put a end to it. However before that he would need to find the beast and get through this maze of death. "Is there no way to get rid of this darkness", shouted Oya as his eyes scanned for the monster.

[Remus]

What had he been doing there? Truly. Was this not a place of heroes? Did a fledgling priest really belong in a place where monsters strong enough to be titled demon king lead the charge and commanded great brutish monsters of nightmares? He was no great patriarch of Etruria or even a bishop to fend off such darkness with light. Remus hadn't learned such arts yet. Remus gazed upon the winged monstrosities before watching the swift movements of the dark being, and surprisingly; the lightning like movements of the girl that had saved him. Both sword wielding women were absurdly fast compared to anything the priest had seen at any point. Save for a woman he had met in Ilia. However; for the briefest of moments he couldn't help but wonder. How would things have gone if she was there? He had seen her move fast enough to catch trained assassins off guard and thrown a man so hard into the ground that he had made a small crater like impact. However it did little good to dwell on what was not realistic. She was not here. He was.

Fingers tightly clutched the priest. A panic stricken heart beating enough to feel as if someone was striking a hammer to his chest, Remus knew he'd have to make a difference as best he could. No matter how small. His eyes closed for a moment as he took a sole moment. Elimine watch over him, for even upon the battlefield sometimes it didn't take away to pray. If he was to be stricken down there, in prayer...then he would have surely been stricken regardless. The blue haired priest let his thoughts swiftly take in the images of everyone he had encountered. The eccentric crimson clad mage that had been leading the healers. The two women that had saved him. The men that had fought along side them. Every wounded fighter defending the city he was in. Even the brown haired man that had tried to make off with Remus for unknown reasons. The Wyvern units that fought in the skies. The men who had been fighting the cyclops. All the souls who fought to hold off the darkness. Then his final mental images lingering upon the children who he had been charged to protect.

Being behind the others at a somewhat considerable distance Remus quickly ducked downwards upon one knee. His hands clasped together tightly with his staff caught between them as he pressed his knuckles to his forehead. The skin around them white from the tense strain of his grip. Though he thought the words within, he spoke them allowed. Devotion would not be silenced. "Elimine. Shield us in your love. Empower us in your light. " Grant me the power to help these brave souls. He finished the last part wordlessly to himself as he snapped his eyes open. Prayer always seemed to steady his nerves. As if he could face the tides of abominations himself. He knew he had no ability to do such, but the priests mind seemed to yield to iron. Remus rose swiftly and stepped backwards with his staff lifted. The priest gazed at the darkened former defender who attacked with nether powers and dueled with the two females at once. Standing at a safe distance Remus kept a cautious awareness to his surroundings but focused keenly on them. Every muscle tense and ready in the event he was targeted. His eyes glued to try following each motion. If either of the women obtained so much as a scratch he would undo it with a swift zealous fervor. They had saved him. With that life he had been allowed to maintain he would ensure he helped them maintain theirs.

[Mana]

"Whoa!" Mana stopped herself when the death knight cleverly dodged and pitted Jya, who tried to attack him from behind, against her. The Sacaen swordmaster kicked the ground and launched herself a bit backward as soon as she landed to avoid clashing with Jya. Maybe this wasn't the monster's intention but it managed to distract Mana, and maybe Jya as well, from pursuing him. The slight delay resulted in brilliant counter attack that proved how much trouble the lone nether warrior could provide for the two speedsters.

When the dusts rose and hid the opponent from sight, Mana assumed he was going to rush toward her from inside the cloud of dust. It seemed her expectation was slightly off the mark, though. Instead of charging like bull, the dark monster did a series of midair attacks aimed to both Mana and Jya with powerful swing that cut through the air with fearsome sound. It wasn't easy to see the trajectory of Burt's sword with the dusts blinding her eyes but somehow the stubborn Sacaen could "feel" his attack coming and raised his defense at the right time. This became the first clash between Falcatta and Damonzhan in this battle. Falcatta was special and super sharp that it might even cut through almost anything in a direct clash like this but the demon sword was a good match for it. However, Mana failed to counter the strength behind the blow and lost her footing as the attack forced her to take a few steps backward.

"Aaaaaaa!!!" Painful scream escaped the lips of the maiden of the blade when something, a foreign magic, entered her body and crept into her soul. This was very different from all the injuries she had suffered in her battles. It didn't cause any harm physically but Mana's felt unimaginable weird sensation as if a part of her soul was being disconnected from the body. She couldn't explain it well but she knew it made her weaker. There was some pain across her chest too. It was the first time Mana had to deal with dark magic so she was caught unprepared both mentally and physically. Normally, she would fall, but this wasn't a battle that she would allow herself to lose. Gritting her teeth, she glared at Nega Burt while keeping her feet strong and steady. Maybe it was her mental power which had been proven not inferior even to older and experienced warriors or maybe it was Falcatta mending her injured soul that gave support to her trembling legs, Mana herself wasn't sure but she certainly refused to be beaten by the nether demon no matter what.

It might be a bit early to show one of her strongest cards but her instinct told her not to underestimate this opponent. "I want to save it to beat Richter or Kenshin but I guess I can use him as a test," she thought. This technique needed some time preparing because she hadn't fully mastered it so Vincent help was greatly appreciated. His knives probably wouldn't hurt the demon much but it was a nice distraction. Hoping the best for Vincent, Mana used the chance to correct her stance, shifting her center of gravity slightly forward and positioning her sword high near her face while pointing the edge at Nega Burt. Both hands gripped the hilt tightly as she adjusted her breath in an attempt to stabilize her qi.

"Here I come!" The roar began her second assault. Mana's speed allowed her to cut the distance in a flash although it would be too much to expect it to catch Nega Burt off guard. This time the Sacaen girl observed his movement with amazing concentration, even more intense than her usual self. The attack then began when she felt the range was enough. Great flow of qi surged through her body as she unleashed her secret technique. Falcatta went in a half-moon arc heading downward when Mana did a diagonal slash. Almost simultaneously, two invisible energy blades joined the hunt for Burt's life. Mana expected her "real" attack to be blocked or dodged but she was confident her invisible ki sword would reach Burt.

[Dietrich Landrik]

As a man who was engulfed with black rushed past and engaged the swordswoman that stood next to him earlier, Landrik knew right away there was no way he could contest in such a fight with blinding speed. Reeling back, he found himself near a healer. Perfect. Such a young man was incredibly lucky and foolhardy to be so close to the front lines. He could use him, though. "Boy! You there, with the staff! I could use some help..." as he let his wounds show. He had gashes on his arms and shoulders from tussling with the gargoyle not even that far away moments ago. The marine tried to push the thoughts of his wounds out of his mind, but they bit into him as a constant reminder. "Just anything. I need to get back into this fight!" he made himself known.

Berg and Fuchs were quick to form a small semi-circle around the two. It was hard to keep their eyes off of the demonic spectacle of unholy magic and clashes. It didn't take much time until a deep boom erupted underneath them. Everything felt like it became liquid as it was shot up and suspended in the air. If his weapons weren't secured into his sheathes, he wasn't sure he could've maintained hold on them. The Sacaen blade he held was thrown away, however, lost in the debris of men and mud.

Pulling himself from his prone position and halfway buried in the ruin, he saw that the others were fine. A section of wall next to them completely toppled, crushing wounded men underneath. It was the glory of Elimine that they did not share the same fate. What could a man do against such power other than cling onto life and fight back?

[Remus]

Eyes flickered side to side as he looked from the wounded swords-woman to the other female combatant. Remus, while still aspiring as a priest, could detect the damage of the soul. When the spirit was harmed. Healing and light magics were both closely tethered to that of the soul and spirit. The priest knew though, this was something he could help heal. Fortunately he had gotten to obtain moments of rest in the absence of constantly healing others. His stamina had returned in full. It was good however because in moments he'd be using alot of it. However before he could do anything he was approached by three others. One man calling out to him. The young priest quickly turned to find his attention diverted from the monstrosity battling Jya and Mana. The man needed healing? Yes. He certainly did.

Though Remus would have cautioned against fighting right away after healing, he knew that none of the defenders would listen as none had yet; which had kept him alive thrice over. Though he nodded he spoke to the man while his eyes flicked back over to Mana. She had sustained some injury, even if only internal and ethereal it was still palpable to the priest's senses. "I will heal you. It make take a moment however. Please, give me but a moment."


Remus looked upwards. Wyverns and gargoyles fought in the sky above. Beyond that however it still resembled the same sky he had seen every day, for most of his life. He sighed, and mentally quieted himself. One hand moved to rest atop the blue gem which was centered upon his staff. Remus began to cycle his thoughts as he prayed quietly once more. Elimine would have to guide him, if he was help others as best he could. His eyes snapped open as he lifted his hands. The blue gemstone had turned a darkened ruby red. Light flashed through it as he kept his gaze fixated upon Mana while she prepared for the next bout. Such was the current of magic that rushed around him that the priests blue robes billowed as if a breeze had taken them in it's embrace. The staff resonated an intense bright flash of light and healing magics surged outwards with an intense blue radiance. A large burst of palpable shimmering blue essence poured from the Priests uplifted staff.

It formed a massive sphere around him before the essence shifted and healed the wounds of the man before him as well as that of mana's. The brown clad Marine's wounds were mended as well, entirely at that. Skin and flesh began to mend painlessly as if time had undone it's self and the gashes never made whole. Though blood wet and dry remained upon him the injuries were sealed up as the priest exerted a colossal amount, taxing himself physically and mentally to press himself. These were crucial moments and he would not allow himself to sit idly by as others fell; not if he could prevent it. He knew all too well that one wound could lead to a mishap that cost someone their life.

Though panting, and seemingly caked in a glean like surface from a layer of sweat now acclimating to his body due to the strain and exertion; Remus smiled to the man with a nod as he shifted his weight and leaned on his staff. Truly while he felt as if his body had little energy left at the moment from the sole act, he could not bring himself to feel any form of regret in the slightest.

[Richter Abend]

What power!

Awe was the emotion that displaced all others as Elias pulled god’s own thunder down from the sky and hammered the Arum shade with it. The creature’s body light up like a torch in the face of the explosive electricity, yet somehow remained black as night. It contorted and thrashed with anger as its very being was torn apart with thunderous fury. So close to the point of contact, Richter’s senses were overwhelmed. His eyes were blinded by the light of the sky-splitting bolt of lightning, and his ears were filled with nothing but ringing. Even his nose was overpowered by the stink of burning flesh and metallic ozone.

And then it was over. The broken form of whatever hapless soul that had served as host lay charred and blackened on the ground, while the dark matter of the Arum that had possessed it, having been liquefied by Elias’s attack, burst from the body like rancid pus from a cyst, now soaking everything around it, including Richter. The Ilian could feel the spirit’s last gasp, a final attempt to possess living flesh, as he watched the dark liquid on his skin coalesce into quivering beads, but it was a futile attempt. Torn into a thousand pieces, the Arum had no power left, and any will it had left, what Richter could feel at least, faded away, resulting in what the Ilian could only hope was the nether thing’s death.

“Thank Barigan,” muttered the pink haired, crimson armored warrior as he wiped Arum gunk off of his armor. Blood he didn’t mind, but considering what it had done to those before him, it was a bit unnerving to having the spirit’s goo all over. But Richter realized he didn’t really have all that much time to clean and groom himself. A quick wipedown would have to do, so after running his cloak over himself once or twice, the Ilian commander tore Boreas bladed head from the body of the Arum’s host with a satisfying crunch, and swiveling right past Elias, turned to face the battlefield where Hargus continued to rampage.

From where he stood, Richter could see no more of the Arum shades that the Demon King had summoned stalking the plains. Either that meant that the others had managed to defeat the rest of them, or that the orange haired swordsman that had stolen Damonzahn had succeeded in absorbing them. Richter was more inclined to believe the latter as he spotted Mana facing down the dark-skinned abomination over by the city wall. That man, fueled by a host of ancient, evil spirits could only spell bad things for them, but Hargus had just torn a hole in the earth from which dark, tentacular evil was now spilling out. Two major threats, then. Which one more dangerous? Which deserved his undivided attention?

“Kenshin’s getting thrashed,” commented Richter as he hoisted Boreas over his shoulder. “Expected.” The Ilian shot a quick glance at Burt's ghastly form, but shook his head to break the gaze, instead allowing his eyes to lock onto the massive Hargus. The Demon King stood tall, the center of a crater, a field of dark tendrils thrashing about him. Richter felt partly responsible for Burt's demise considering he had been the one carrying around the evil artifact in the first place, but the man's new power and new goals were unknown. For now Mana would have to hold her own, for it was Hargus that Richter had come here to stop. It was only right that he end the Demon King before worrying about an unknown variable like Damonzahn's new wielder. “Come. Let's put an end to this once and for all.”

[Ilheod]

Wings flapped with heavy gusts of wind. The Bernese Wyvern Unit fought relentlessly. With fire burning in the hearts of each man and their commander's occasional adjustments to formation they had continued to route the winged fiends. However it was a struggle. An uphill fight. For each one they killed it was as if another took their place. Ilheod knew that the powers of motivation and fury at a fallen comrade could only bolster men for so long. Rage was a fine tool to use as motivation, but like all things it faded as self preservation became a dominant force. Dual colored eyes quickly darted side to side as he tried to properly take into account where to act next. So many points of focus had become centers of their own small battles. However the possible biggest advantage his men had gained was starting to definitively fade. Momentum. Upon their charge his men had gained advantages by nature herself against the abominations. Gravity had fueled the weight and driving force of their spears. Their first few charges had carried greater power from the weight of speed in flight. Now however as the unit broke into small one man to beast skirmishes these assets had faded. While he tried to formulate a plan he continued to fight as ferociously as the snarling heavily armored wyvern he rode. Spear plunging into a gargoyle, black tainted liquor stained the silver lance as the winged fiend was skewered. Turning his head he felt a sudden blow wash over him.

His chain of thought was broken up by the sudden swipe of a clawed hand. Ilehod lowered his head, ducking as the claw met metal. A high pitched grinding followed by a jarring impact shook the Wyvern Lord as he felt the force jostle him. Shaken slightly the open gust of wind startled him as his helmet was knocked from his head. However it wasn't as bad. It could have been his head. Shouting with a blood lust risen by a desire to suppress the demonic nightmares his spear swept infront of him like an arc. The tip slashed at the monster's upper torso. Muscles running tense he drove his weapon forwards while he swung it so it cleaved a fine line into the creatures chest and partially bisected it. A hissing screech proceeded it's death briefly before it was eerily silenced by a lack of functioning lungs. A furious shrieking roar from Astraeus as it fell signaled the unit to regroup while Ilheod tucked and led his riders into a sharp dive.

The frenzied block of gargoyles now much thinner in number would be hard pressed to keep up with the sudden dive as the riders plummeted downwards. Demons were cruel, powerful creatures. Humans? They could be far worse. The race that had beaten the dragons, slaughtered their own in droves, yet in the same life span cured and spared just as many had proven to be a durable one. This was their world and no hellspawn would take it from them if he could still breathe. Ilheod was no great hero, nor even anything beyond a decent rider of Bern; but if he could feel such fire burn through him he could only imagine what the real heroes of the war felt. Wind rushed past his ears and the captain was forced to temporarily lower his head as he reached behind him to grab the secondary helm tucked within one of his back saddle bags. It kept him from suffering the dizzying sensation brought on from wind whipping at his ears too intensely and buffering his face.

As his unit fully regrouped and pulled up to even out from their dive they started to gain more speed. That was when Ilheod saw him. The same black wings like the fiends he had battled before. Raving madly with a voice not of Elibe. A scowl darkened his expression once more. Ultimately, this monster was far beyond the captain. Something he and a simple silver spear couldn't destroy. No, his men were going to need him too much with the seemingly limitless hordes of gargoyles. However..perhaps..he could still help. His finger moved from the reigns as he tightened his legs to the wyverns sides to maintain balance. His unit behind him, he knew Alexander and Immen atleast would see the gesture and pointed upwards. The other riders knew to climb up higher but follow the path their captain did. As they climbed, he lowered himself a bit. Closer to the ground now. However he remained out of reach as the dark twisting tendrils of nether lashed out at the souls on the ground. At times like that he was grateful to be able to take to the sky. With his hands moving to steady out Ilheod lowered his spear. Leveled it. Extended his arm to his right and made sure to aim precisely.

Monsters such as the Demon king were foolish to believe they would not be the center of attention. Boasting of power and showing it off in a horde of enemies would make them a higher priority. Already he fought handful of enemies at once. Multiple directions even. He was besieged at all sides. Ilheod would add another angle of attack, if only in a single pass. Above. Moving lower to the ground and swiftly approaching from the back left corner Ilheod rushed past him atop his Wyvern. Moments before the attempted strike he shouted out and thrust his spear forwards to add driving force as his wyvern echoed out a skull splitting shriek. A sound that few survived hearing; though this monster would stand in the exception. He swept his silver spear tip in an arc as he flew past, intending to hit not his body..but cut a swathe carving through the membrane and center connecting of his wings. If he could deny him flight that was all the better. He knew most creatures wing membranes were sensitive. Perhaps this would stand true for the monster as well.

Continuing the pass though he swept his spear back upwards and guided his wyvern into a steep upwards climb before circling slightly into an Aileron roll. Continuing this maneuver he lead his entire unit into an upwards Immelmann turn so they could circle back. As the unit regrouped with the sudden turn completed they now had height and force advantage on the approaching gargoyles once more. The larger wing beats of Astraeus carried him further to catch up and resume lead of the unit as Ilheod lead another fierce charge into the winged beasts. This allowed his otherwise physically weaker Wyvern Riders to carry deadly force into their joust like lance blows as they plunged back into the tide of monstrosities that attempted to control the skies. Once more, the fierce combat continued.

[Elias]

The bolts tore through the sky, one after another, a relentless assault that even this creature of darkness could not survive. The spirit ruptured into a plume of ashen blood, a thick slimy tar that formed beads of darkness on all it touched. The spirit was faded and desperately trying to grab onto anything it could in one last desperate attempt at survival, it was a futile effort as the essence drifted from faded to gone. Elias let his arm down, having held his staff aloft this entire time as if it would help the thunder. He let out a breath, slow and long, having rolled around in his chest since he cast the spell. He brought his hand to his chest and took in a deep breath to replace the one he just let out. It was a slow breath, one that betrayed how tired he actually was.

Richter seemed to be taking this all with stride, walking over with his axe slung over his shoulder. Casual, like they didn't just slay an unworldly abomination. Elias himself simply smirked, hiding away any signs of exhaustion deep away as he spoke with a scoff. "Well the only way to answer a thrashing is to thrash back, isn't it?" While Richter was focused upon enshin and Hargus, Elias instead turned his eyes to that... man. If he could even be called such a thing any longer, what would he be now? Like some glowy darky purply mass of darkness that conveniently happens to be shaped like a human male? What would you call that? Elias liked the phrase 'Nega'. He was a Negaman. Not to be confused with a megaman, which would imply something else entirely. "You go after Hargus, I'll go after him. We don't know what he'll do, I can't simply leave it be." He could see the monstrous being flail about, fighting other folk, Elias felt partially responsible for all of this. Not to mention this being was a far larger unknown variable that they simple couldn't ignore. Maybe Richter could, but Elias could not. There was also the whole academic curiosity part of it all, but he wouldn't say that played a part. Well at least not too big of a part, he couldn't lie and say he wasn't interested.

"Wait a moment, before you go let me help." He said to Richter was all ready and raring to rush ahead. He took a deep breath and then with with a nod he held his staff up into the air. Even in cacophony of chaos he silenced all around him as he focused. He focused on himself, and on his fighting spirit. He focused on his will to keep going even in the face of all this chaos, and on his pure undiluted stubbornness. To simply refuse to give up and flee despite being every reason in the world pointing to it. The head of the staff took upon a crimson sheen in response, resonating with that same strong stubborn will. Gathering like a flame that burned inside, he shared that flame with Richter. Using his magic to give him extra strength and speed. He may not be going with him, but he can still help in his own way. "You go kick Hargus's ass, I'll try to make sure we don't all die out here."

With that he felt even more tired, and was sorely missing his horse about now. Why did he get off that thing in the first place? That made him wonder if Demon was alright, but he didn't wonder for long, if there was anything that horse was, it was resourceful. Besides it appears these monsters are after human targets, not their steeds. Demon should be fine, for now. Hopefully. Maybe. Either way now wasn't the time to be worried, he had more important things to be worried about, like what could possibly be some dark god running around being crazy. He would take a moment to catch his breath, and then he would go over to help those people over there with whatever this madman was.

[Richter Abend]

Richter was a bit agitated when Elias said that he wouldn’t be coming to fight with the Ilian commander, but he understood the mage’s desire to split up and put a stop to both these dark warriors at once. He, however, had to force himself to not run off when Elias requested that he wait. Wait? For what? Richter couldn’t help but give the mage an odd, frustrated look as the latter began to raise his staff and meditate over him. He was doing this now? In the middle of a battle?

But any doubtful feelings were soon pushed aside by the magical fire that surged within the Ilian’s breast. Pulsing outward, it enveloped him, strengthening and empowering him. Richter could feel his muscles bulge as blood was forced through them in incredible amounts by a heart that now beat like a wardrum. His breath, on the other hand, grew slower and deeper, each inhale delivering far more air to his system than normally possible. It made the Ilian feel lighter, faster, and more alert. It was, in some ways, a feeling like the one he got from Damonzahn’s magic, but this was not a surge stolen energy flooding his body. This was strength of his own body amplified exponentially.

Richter looked down at his left hand as he flexed it repeatedly. His skin had taken on a pinkish hue from the increased blood flow. His veins were popping out under his skin. A wolfish grin spread across his face. The magic of Damonzahn and Boreas was great, but this spell was incredible. It made him feel like he had the light of the sun coursing through his body.
“This is quite some magic. I feel like I could strike down a mountain.” Richter’s hands hardened into tight fists, his teeth grit and his eyes wide. “You think they will call me the Shadow Slayer when this is all over?” The joke probably came off as assumptory, cocky, and reckless, but the Ilian had absolute confidence in himself.

Not waiting for Elias’s answer, the commander spun on his right heel and broke into a run, charging straight towards Hargus. His legs moved like lightning beneath him, and he felt as if he had become wind, ducking and dodging around the shadowy magic that continued to burst from the ground. The earth beneath him was shattered and jagged, but Richter flowed over it like running water. Boreas, tight in the warrior’s hands, whipped up a blizzard that sent ice and sleet spiraling off behind Richter as he cut towards the center of the crater, leaving a path of snow in his wake.

Closer, and closer he drew to Hargus. He could see the enraged, howling face of the dark necromancer turn towards him after having his wing torn open by a plunging wyvern rider, but the villain’s gaze failed to intimidate him. It only made him press forward harder. All this suffering, all this death, so that one man could feel superior. It was disgusting. A “Demon King” he might call himself, but Richter recognized that look in the bandit’s face: it was fear. Hargus hadn’t conceived losing a second time, not after imbuing himself with magic so ancient and terrifying, but now he was being pushed to the very limit by the humans he clearly saw himself so greater than. And so the Demon “King” flung his arms about wildly, commanding the tentacles around to seize the WInter Lion, but Richter kept his path clear, hacking away any demonic appendage that sought to stop him.

But with each swing, each step, Richter could feel the power that Elias had given him slowly fading. This enhancement was not permanent, and Richter had knew that. But he couldn’t allow himself to be delayed. He had to reach Hargus with enough strength to finish the devil. So the crimson warrior tapped deep into himself, pumping his legs as hard as he could. He soared past through the corrupted landscape like an arrow loosed from a bow. And as he came within mere feet of Hargus, a loud battlecry escaped his lungs.

“HARGUUUS!”

Richter, wild with fury, forced himself into the air with a powerful leap, his enchanted legs propelling him skywards. His armor, once red, was now a frozen white, and his clothes were hard with frost. The hair on his head had frozen into long spikes, and his skin was covered with snow. Boreas continued to howl in all directions. This warrior was a blizzard, a force of nature, dropped from a cloudless sky, descending on Hargus to put an end to his evil.

But Hargus would not go down without a fight. A black bolt of hellish magic, thrown from the Demon King’s hand, hummed through the white, snowy air and struck Richter square in the shoulder. The magic smashed through the Ilian’s pauldron, and a huge wave of pain rattled his body. The attack did little to effect his momentum, but his arm instantly went numb. From the corner of his eye, Richter could see shards of ice smothered in dark, red blood flying from his shoulder. It only made him more furious. He could lose that arm for all he cared. He would not stop. He would not stop!

“URRAAAAGH!”

With another cry, the Winter Lion brought Boreas down upon Hargus. The Demon King futilely raised an arm to defend, but the axe’s blade cut right through the bandit’s flimsy, last ditch defense and smashed right into the Demon Lord’s collarbone. Thick, black blood burst from both the devil’s neck and his severed arm as Richter drove his attack further into his opponent’s shoulder. Large, sharp icicles burst from Boreas’s head, ripping into the flesh and bone around wound. Hargus could only scream in painful rage pain racked his body, causing the nether tendrils all around him to shiver and flail, as if feeling their master’s agony.

But even with one arm out of commission, Richter wasn’t done. One blow would not be enough. His feet struck the ground with a thud, and with one forceful pull from his still able arm, Richter tore Boreas from Hargus’s shoulder, shredding it to pieces with the sharp ice that had buried itself in the Demon King’s body. Blood and ice splattered the ground around the two as the axe struck dirt, and while Hargus’s howling torment mixed with Richter’s roars of rage, the latter spun on his back foot and flung Boreas upwards into his foe once again. This time the axe smashed into the devil’s ribs, again exploding with razor-sharp icicles. Like his collarbone the bones fractured into pieces, causing more of Hargus’s infernal blood to pour from his side.

“GRRRRRAAAAAGHH!”

Richter jerked Boreas out of Hargus’s body a second time, then again spun on his heel as he launched his final strike into his foe’s other side. Again the axe rent demonic flesh and bone, and again the Demon King cried out in despair. Blood ran down the length of Richter’s wounded arm, but his weapon hand remained fixed firmly on the axe that had decimated his foe. His magic imbued strength was gone, and the pain was starting to spread out from his shoulder, but he had lain into the devil as well as he could. Hargus would not leave this battlefield alive.

The Demon King was done.

[Hargus]

“ARRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHH!”

Hargus’s demonic voice cut through his screams, thick, tar-like blood seeped out of his wounds. How could this be! This stupid, pink-haired warrior! How could this be? HE WAS THE DEMON KING! He had once controlled all of Bern! He had once resurrected the legendary Heroes from their graves and bent them to his will! He had crossed over to the other side and returned, and more powerful than ever before! He possessed a power these mortals could only dream of! Kenshin and his pathetic, worm-like comrades were nothing compared to him! But they were doing it again! They were killing him! AGAIN! How were they killing him!?

Hargus lashed out with a great clawed hand to attack Richter, forcing the Ilian to raise his still-working forearm in defense and release his grip on his weapon. The single blow was not enough to break the warrior’s guard, and the Demon King’s claws raked noisily across his mortal foe’s gauntlet, but it was enough to push Richter aside and buy Hargus, axe still lodged in his side, enough space to beat his massive wings in a hasty retreat. In one big leap he flew back a long yard, but when he tried to take to the sky, the Demon King was paralyzed by agony. The winged regent fell to the ground, dropped to his knees. He looked down at himself, in horror, to see his guts spilling out of his sides. He felt wind and blood flowing through the huge tear in his wing.

No! NO! The warrior, no, not the warrior, the axe! The wyvern rider's spear! They had done great damage to him! He could feel his body trying to put itself back together, using what magic it had left, but the damage incredibly extensive, and the ice still frozen to his wounds did much to impede the process. Regenerating his form took great quantities of magical power, especially in the face of such dire injuries, and magical power was what he was running out of at the moment. He had sowed the seeds of death today. He would return! He would return with the full power of darkness at his command! But for that to happen he needed to recoup his losses. He needed to find safety! It pained him to even think it, but he would need to retreat. TO FLEE! If death had not been enough to stop him before, losing this battle would hardly spell the end to his ambitions.

“YOU THINK YOU HAVE WON, KENSHIN!” Hargus shouted in a crazed voice, “BUT YOU HAVE NOT! I WILL RETURN AGAIN, JUST LIKE I DID BEFORE! I WILL COME BACK STRONGER! I WILL HAVE ALL OF BERN, ITS PEOPLE WARPED TO MY WILL, MARCHING BEHIND ME!” The great winged figure turned away from Richter, from Kenshin, and began moving as fast as his quaking legs would carry him. If he could not fly, he would run, with his hands fastened firmly to his sides, barely holding in his entrails. He left rancid, putrid slime in his wake. “YOU HAVE YET TO EXPERIENCE THE TRUE WRATH OF THE ARUM! YOU, AND YOUR CITY, AND YOUR ATTACK DOG WILL ALL FIND DEATH AT MY HAND! ELIBE WILL BE MINE! EVEN IF IT TAKES ME A THOUSAND DEFEATS, I WILL RULE THIS LAND!”

[Dietrich Landrik]

There was so much chaos in the air as demons poured from the flesh of men. The ground quaked with sheer terror at such unholy warfare conducted upon it. They fought to survive and many gave their final breath - their corpses emitting a stench that no one should ever have to smell and endure. Such bloodshed was now like a ritual as the masses on both sides marched toward their end. Landrik himself thought he would be swallowed in this infernal pit of hell on Elibe. Yet he was spared. He looked to his blood-soaked clothing and saw his flesh mended and true just as it was before. The miracles of St. Elimine were gracious and kind. To see her works in such a place filled him with hope.

Pulling himself out of the ground, the dirty and dust-covered marine grasped onto his sword with a new strength. This was nothing gracious, but seemed automatic. He moved towards the multiple breaches in the wall and combated the foolhardy undead that poured from every crevice. Black blood stained everything as one after the other they were cut down as they stood. These creatures one by one would die for the price of a parapet. Berg heaved the large sword he had found and quickly ran towards Dietrich to aid him. It was Fuchs who pulled a wounded man from under some rubble and tended to him in his last moments. A fresh band of Sacaens rushed to where the blonde swordsman stood and relieved him. Standing back in exhaustion, Landrik dropped his sword and sat resting against a portion of where a house once stood. Death was everywhere, but hope still held strong.

[Ilheod]

The satisfaction that turned into almost euphoric battle-lust as Ilheod's weapon pierced the Winged monstrosity couldn't be described. It was a high that only emphasized as Astraeus flew back into lead of the wyvern unit and took to the sky once more. Circling around, the horde of winged black gargoyles approaching once again only for him to shout out with the rest of his unit once they charged into eachother again. It was a thunderous impact preflighted by furious battle cries. The sound of crunching flesh as his unit exploited both gravity and superior reach to keep the winged creatures both distracted and out of range to harm them was a tactic they were lucky to have practiced prior for battling the pegasi of Ilia. The ringing of spears grating against armor and wooden thwacks as occasionally a rider parried a gargoyles strike with the shaft of their spears. Ilheod however had the greatest success given his silver weapon. Each blow burned at the skin of the tainted monsters even as it had Hargus himself. They were torn like paper when wet before the powerful stabs of it. However The Captain's gaze wavered briefly. In the midst of combat, wings flapping and wyverns flying among the mass of demonic winged bodies; he felt his body starting to ache universally.

Exhaustion was a difficult thing to strive off. Few hours of sleep, long days of intense exertion. It made the Wyvern Captain feel as if he had aged years in moments. Joints ached from constant strain and his muscles were sore beyond reckoning. He imagined it was the same for most of the warriors. The Bernese captain panted in-between bouts as his body cycled through different states. As it had been since the battle with the cyclops, brief forays into the realm of fatigue had periodically struck him. His senses would grow slightly numb. As if he was becoming desensitized to the living world around him. Colors became less vibrant as a weariness threatened to overtake; vision sapping in the most fleeting of moments between blinks where everything would grow distant or hazed. It was as if he was resisting the desire to sleep, nodding briefly before starting with heart pounding in his chest and feeling more awake than his normal waking moments.

However he wasn't at his limit just yet. No, the Wyvern Lord was not. Every time he felt himself growing close, a particular rider came to mind. The typical grin flashing of his fallen comrade would enter his mind. As if his spirit was unwilling to let the overexerted Captain give in. It filled his blood with fire. For when he thought of the fallen rider, first memories flooded in. Which made him happy; but then that happyness turned to sorrow as the realization continued to sink in that his comrade was gone. Forever destroyed by the dark fiend beneath. Then his sorrow turned to rage. Rage at the one who robbed him of his family. His brother at arms, and a member of his unit for years. In the haze of fatigue as the veil started to lift a film of anger that he couldn't fully control ate at him. His hand tightened around the silver spear until knuckles shifted white and veins in his wrist revealed themselves as if to bulge. Each blow sundering a newly made corpse to fall from the sky. That was when he saw it.

Hargus. The one behind his anger. The one who had claimed godhood. Fleeing. If the snarl hadn't been masked by the noise of combat it would have drawn attention to the expression. Ilheod knew now, the thinned out numbers would be something his unit could handle. The worm was limping away. Murky black stains of taint upon the land his grand legacy as he tried to flee. Ilheod guided his Wyvern, as the midnight blue winged beast let out an ear splitting shriek like roar while he turned him into a dive towards Hargus. Ilheod's anger replaced weary pain with anticipating twitches of the muscle. As if he could hardly restrain himself. His wyvern's colossal wings spread briefly before tucking together and sailing downwards like a projectile. Ilheod tucked his body flat against the back of his mount with his spear aligned. If it was anything he could do to avenge his rider, and the man who had been like a younger sibling to him he would. That was when the thought sank in.

How many like him had there been? How many brothers, fathers, sons, or husbands had Hargus robbed the world of? How many men had tried to stop him only to be slain. Worse, tainted now into the things his unit had labored to kill. It turned his rage from a spreading fire into a volcanic fury. Multi-colored gaze fixed on the fleeing monster now Ilheod let out a savage shout. Though it was partially drown out by a second audibly sundering screech from Astraeus, he knew his wyvern could atleast feel similarly to him. This man had taken a wing-mate. This thing was no great demon king. He was no god to be feared. He was a stain to be removed. Silver spear aligned, Ilheod braced himself.

"DIE FILTH!"

Astraeus drove to the ground with massive impact. The Wyvern's limbs tucked and wings did not extend until the final moment. He sailed down from almost directly above Hargus. Spear aligned to split directly down his skull if he could hit him perfectly and plunge the silver weapon down into him as if skewering him. The Wyvern's wings released like a drag unfolding and taking in a sudden drop while angling his body so that he would slam into the ground with driving force past Hargus. He knew that it would put extreme pressure on his wyvern, but the maneuver wasn't fatal to a creature as muscled and durable as a Wyvern. Not unless they had committed from a far greater height. Ilheod's snarl as he stabbed Hagus intent to purge the creature before he could flee conveyed all that it needed to. Disgust, contempt, hatred. Truly though, no word within the language of man could properly detail his hatred for the monster. It was beyond words and only action could express it accurately.

[Oya]

It was close, but Oya managed to avoid the giant necro ball of death and despire. Still the warrior had lost a beat on the demon king because of it. Well only for a moment. His attention was turned back to the beast once he saw the flash of ice and screams of the warrior in crimson. Oya knew the man well. He was the one leading the charge against his boys in the east and the same man he talked too once they had linked up. It seemed he had keen eyes to find the monster inside all of this debris. Still Oya was not going to let him have all the fun. That evil, thing, had nearly killed him. On more than one occasion. Oya and his pirates had a lot to pay Hargus back for. Ready and eager for battle Oya began to move in the direction of the fight.

By the time Oya even reached a space were it seemed he could join into the battle the crimson clad Champion had done his work. He had severely injured the monster and it seemed Hargus was on the retreat. At first it seemed as if he was going to try to fly away. It was a good thing that was not possible. If he started to fly there would be nothing Oya could do to stop him. Sure Oya could shoot a bow, but lets be real. Oya's skill with the weapon rivaled a newborn archer. He was no true marksman. Instead Hargus was attempting to flee on foot. The beast held his guts into place using his hand and screaming at the top of his lungs in revenge. Such poor taste. The site was not only disgraceful to Hargus, but also to his mother Nya and all who allied with him. A Demon King, he called himself. It was true he was powerful, but he was no king. Not acting like that. It was almost a seen out of Oya's childhood stories. Swearing revenge and fleeing with his tail between his legs. As if Oya would allows that. To make it worse he declared that he would corrupt all of Bern, the very act Oya and the other pirates feared. He had to die. Not just for business, or for vengeance, but for humanity sake. Such monsters should not exist in this world.

Looking at the beast Oya began to draw power from Xigshaw once again. He was starting to tire out a bit. The enhancement from Xigshaw was empowering, but once you started to overuse it the strength became detrimental. You had to be careful not to overexert your body. Oya doubted that he would have much a fight in him after this. Drawing upon his holy maces power Oya empowered he legs. Using the extra strengthen Oya crossed the battlefield with purpose. His eyes set on the path the Demon King would follow. As Oya predicted the monsters moves he noticed a Wyvern Flying in the sky. He has seen such a beast take a shot at the demon king before. When his cousin Burt had struck at him. The rider must be coming back for another swing. This, just might work in Oya's favor. Even a wounded tiger was still a tiger. Trying to take the demon king on himself could end with him being sent off into the next world. However if he used the rider.

As the demon king fled Oya rushed off in front of the Demon King's path blocking his escape with his mighty hammer. "Nya sends her regards traitor", spoke Oya taking the monsters attention. He did so at just the moment to allow the rider to stab the monster while he was distracted giving him the opportunity to attack with the full power of his great hammer. With all of his strength Oya brought down Xigshaw with all his might. Hi eyes filled with hate and his heart with vengeance. "See you in hell", shouted Oya as he finished his final strike.

[Edrick]

Edrick stood there, both in fear and in awe of the weird powerful monstrosity in front of him and The Maiden of the Blade. He was utterly clueless as to what to due, standing there numb, as The Maiden was in battle with it. He saw that it absorbed other magic things, like the other monsters that seemed to radiate magic. Could the thing The Maiden was fighting absorb his magic too? Would that empower it? Damn it! Why was he so useless in situations like this! It wasn't fair to those he was supposed to be leading! He needed to be stronger! Why was he so Weak! If he even tried to help her by joining in he would probably only be a distraction that would get them both killed, if not then just himself.

At this point there was nothing he could do to help as Magic tore through his soul, he let out a gasp of pain as his fists clenched and his body flexed in response to the magic. He did his best to shrug it off and after a little bit the pain faded enough for him to start thinking again.

Edrick blinked as he assessed the battle as his mind started to fray from all of the stress and the over abundance of magic. What he could piece together though was that his magic could effect Hargus and Hargus HAD to be the one to make this thing. Therefor if he attacked Hargus then the monsters and the thing attacking the Maiden would fade? Right? And at least he knew that his magic could hurt him, it, whatever it was now.

He turned slightly as he panned the battlefield, looking for Hargus, when he spotted him he was under siege by other people, but he was trying to flee. How appropriate that he dies here. He began to pull all of his anger, his hatred, his pain out of his body as he channeled it into an orb floating in front of him as a certain darkness shimmered in his eyes. He stood there, a menacing look on his face as he sent the orb into the ground intending for it to come up and strike Hargus. After the blow and the others attacking he was sure that Hargus would be dead, so he turned his attention to see the effect on the other monstrosity. Seeing if he would have to jump in and be a distraction. It was all he was probably good for at this point.