OoC: Well, here it is. Excuse the title, but I could not find one more fitting, considerning this is Vaskalen's premier performance.
Forty years have passed since the Hellfire Sword first took control over a mortal body. However, finding one worthy of wielding it proved more difficult then it anticipated. If it were going to enslave the entire mortal realm and use it to launch a war on both Heaven and Hell, then it would need a strong body to become its vessel. Little did it know, it would get a chance much sooner then it thought.
The proud figure of a young man stood on a hill looking over a tiny village with a creek running though it. Whatever the name of it was, it did not matter for its occupants would never live to see the next sunrise. “Master,” asked the young, red haired man to the sword on his belt. “Why this village? Why not a larger one?”
“I told you,” came a disturbing, disembodied voice. “If we go too big too soon, that idiot known as the Lord of Light will catch wind of it and destroy us both.”
“Very well, master,” replied the young man. He was rather small for his age, one of the many reasons the misguided youth picked up Vaskalen in the first place. His red hair blew elegantly in the foreboding wind that had picked up in the short time they stood on the hill, his acid-green eyes surveying the lives about to end.
“What are you waiting for, an invitation?” Pestered the Hellfire Sword.
“No, I’m sorry,” with that, the youth began to move towards the tiny village.
“What do you think you’re doing!?” Exclaimed a villager as he watched a young man cut the cross off the front of the local church. Vaskalen and the youth looked at the balding, elderly man with contempt. Before he could say another word, the man had ran the Devil’s Sword through his skull, and cut his body cleanly in half, spilling blood all over the cobblestone street.
Everyone in the town’s square stopped dead in their tracks, turning to the man who had slain their mayor. All of the brave men ran forward, eager to avenge the death of their leader. “Oh good, willing victims,” spoke Vaskalen through its wielder. They were just that. Wave after wave of men came, and with each one, the sword and its user killed them all. Once all the able-bodied men were dead, they moved on to the rest.
Hours later, not a single member of the village remained. The streets flowed with drying blood, and almost all of the buildings were destroyed beyond repair. Those that still remained standing were still burning from the fray. It was a massacre, a plain and simple massacre. In side the decimated church sat the young man and the Hellfire Sword. “Did I do good today, master?” Asked the young man.
“Yes, I suppose you did,” answered Vaskalen. “But I fear our work is not done. I sense a new, and stronger presence heading our way.”
“What should we do then?” Asked the youth.
“Nothing for now, you seem tired. You are no use to me if you overexert yourself,” said Vaskalen.
“Thank you for your concern, master.”
Vaskalen said nothing more. He felt no concern, or even attachment in the slightest, for this boy, and would just as readily discard him like the trash he was. The only thing stopping it from doing that was his prior experience with a sword, and the fact that he hadn’t lost yet.
"How the hell did I get so lost?!" the young boy growled as he looked at the map that the old man had sold him at such a cheap price. "This map is worthless and worse yet, that old man has my gold!" the ice innate grunted as he kicked a nearby pebble and continued walking along the hill he was upon. "Well, that doesn't matter now," Zachary told himself, sitting down and looking around from the hill he was atop of. He allowed his mind to wander as he looked at the blue sky above him, entering a state of relaxation.
The youth's head craned upwards and he stared into the sky, attempting to figure out where he was. Even if the stars were out, he told himself, feeling down at being so lost, I wouldn't have the faintest where I'm heading because I can't tell direction from stars. No matter how the ice warrior thought about it, the ever present fact that he found himself in an unwinnable situation haunted him. Well, even if I'm lost, at least its nice out, he told himself as a gray, cloud-like thing floated over him.
Is that a storm cloud? the red haired boy asked himself as more of the light gray cloud passed overhead. No, its something different, he told himself, standing up and looking down from where the smog seemed to come from. It's smoke! From what?! he asked himself as he looked ever downwards until his eyes fell upon a small town that seemed to be releasing smoke heavily. I have a bad feeling about this. Perhaps I should check it out? he asked himself, standing up and slowly, and idly, walking down the hill towards the village.
The ice innate continued to walk towards the town slowly, realizing why the town was smoking as he drew ever closer. It had been sacked, but the ice warrior couldn't tell by what. Although Magnus realized it soon after the youth began to walk towards the town. It was weak at first, but before long, the demonic exile could feel it as if he were there. How long had it been since he felt that energy, though? The better question that crossed the demon was what was it doing here of all places? The only question that he didn't ask was who, or in this case what, made the energy, for he knew.
The Hellfire Sword
The swordsman heard the whisper slightly, but shrugged it off as something irrelevant. Even to the ice fighter, had heard it, the words that the demon exile said would have made no sense. To Zachary, the sword's name was foreign, no matter how well Magnus knew it.
The ice innate walked past the gate nonchalantly and walked through the remains of the city, taking in the horror that had been caused. He nearly gagged as he saw the bodies laying about and the utter destruction that had been incurred. His body shuddered with horrible terror, but he had to be strong. Whoever did this would suffer because an avenger had arrived to deal with it.
Suddenly, the ice innate spotted a young man with red hair and piercing green eyes. The eyes of the other warrior made Zachary's heart fill with rage, as they may not have been the dark green of Zorlo's, but green eyes reminded the youth of his rival. "YOU!" the ice innate yelled over. "DId you do this?" he asked, drawing his rune blade and holding it ready to battle the Hellfire Sword.
You idiot! What are you doing? Wait... come to think of it... If this boy can slay that blades wielder and combine its power with his and mine, we could rule, Magnus whispered to the boy, the youth only hearing about being powerful. Kill that boy and take his sword. Once you have it, we can destroy the fencer. You'll be an avenger, as you desire to be!
Zachary liked the sound of that. He's be an avenger, all he need to do was claim that sword. "It was you, wasn't it? Somehow you managed to kill everyone here. It doesn't matter, I'll defeat you! I am an avenger, and I won't allow this kind of act go unpunished!" the swordsman yelled as three ice shards began to form on the sides of his sword. He'd make this quick to avoid a long, painful conflict.
OoC: Okay, just as a warning, Zachary is very weak. He's at most half the strength of Zorlo unless Magnus is in control or if he's in his awakened state. His awakened state isn't in his bio, but if you are wondering what it looks like, read my last post in Reluctant Alliance X2. I doubt I'll use it, but just in case you are wondering. Okay, let's have fun with this!
If you’re going to fight him, then at least be cautious, whispered the Hellfire Sword. His sword appears to have a demonic aura.
“I’ll be careful, master,” whispered the boy back to the sword. “What is a little boy like you doing here anyway?” the youth continued, looking at the newcomer. “Do you have a death wish? If so, I can help you.” With that, he drew Vaskalen out of its scabbard, and pointed it at the newcomer.
“I suggest,” said Vaskalen to the young boy in front of it. “That you just drop your sword, and die like all the other weak wastes of blood that once called this stink hole their home. It would make both our jobs so much easier.”
“What the heck?” The younger man voiced. “Your sword has a big hole in it and talks? Well, no matter, I’ll still avenge all the people you slew, talking sword or not!”
“The time for talk is over, Bloodwave Blade!” Exclaimed the young man who held Vaskalen. It roared down the blood-drenched street, tearing a hole in the ground in its wake. Dodging the attack, the avenger rolled on the ground, and on to the other side of the street. The attack slammed into a nearby building, sending brick and wood flying in all directions, obscuring part of the battlefield.
Seeing his opportunity, the avenger threw his ice spears at the Hellfire Sword. The wielder noticed this so he lazily blocked his attacks using his master. “So, you don’t like melee combat?” Vaskalen asked the avenger. “Well, too bad, get close to him, Galan!” The wielder of the sword nodded to his master’s request, and charged at the avenger with full speed.
Desperately throwing more ice spears, the avenger tried to fend off the one known as Galan and his sword. However, the servant of the Hellfire Sword easily used it to chop through the ice. He tightened his grip on its pummel, causing smaller blades running down the length of the blade to come out. Galan jumped high into the air, aiming to kill the youth in a single blow.
However, as he jumped the young man pointed his own sword at his attacked. Although he avoided it as best he could, the wielder both missed his quarry, and gained a large, shallow cut down his left arm. He implanted Vaskalen shallowly into the cobblestone street, but pulled him out before the avenger could come around and strike him.
Suddenly, the youth made another spike of ice form on his blade. “Fire beats ice,” sneered Vaskalen as Galan called out the Hellfire technique. He quickly slashed at the avenger as he tried to jump out of the way, landing a shallow blow to his chest, but it would not matter, soon the Hellfire would take effect. After a few seconds, the avenger cried out, doubled over in pain. Odd, thought the Devil’s Sword. It took longer then usual for Hellfire to take effect.
Galan walked over to the suffering youth, about to deliver the finishing blow. By this time, the Hellfire technique had burned out. No trace of the fire existed anywhere on the cold, metallic blade. “How does it feel?” Asked Galan, ready to kill the youth. “Hellfire causes any injury to fell ten to one hundred time more painful. So, feel lucky that you had the chance to feel the fires of hell lick your body before you died.”
OoC: Interesting coincidence, you type Magnus in Blue, and I type Vaskalen in Red. Oh, and sorry if I got his personality wrong at any point. Scold me via PM if I did.
A sudden burst of laughter came from the red haired ice innate. "Burned eh? ten to one hundred times worse, hmm?" Zachary said, standing up and dusting himself off with one hand, pointing his sword at the other red haired warrior. "That tickled a little, but it sure as hell didn't burn," the ice warrior stated boldly, pushing back the pain he was feeling. Good defense, make it look like you aren't wounded to keep 'em scared, the boy told himself, smiling at his foe.
With a slight jerk, the brown eyed boy's sword moved, clashing with the devil's sword. The two warriors were sword locked for almost an instant before the one called Galan pushed the ice innate back, causing him to stumble backwards. Quickly recovering, the ice warrior spun around, swinging his sword around in a semicircle, meeting his foes and causing the fire powered blade to be pushed back. It took mere seconds for the one who wielded Satan's blade to respond, swinging his sword quickly in response and finding the ice innate guarding it, locking them, but the ice innate was being pushed to his knees by the force his foe applied.
Magnus began to get angry at his pawns seeming inability to defeat any foe on his own. Dammit! You worthless boy, defeat that fool and claim his sword! Do you want to defeat that green haired man or not?! If you don't defeat this wannabe, you'll never be able to hope to clash with that green haired man! Now then, find your power and overwhelm that warrior! the Demon Lord barked, and the boy began to feel the demon's anger, increasing his strength slightly.
"I can't lose to you!" Leos roared, pushing the Blade of Hell back and its wielder with it. "I have to avenge those who have fallen at your hand, and then defeat that green haired man who has felled more then you! I'll destroy you!" the red haired ice innate stated, charging and swinging his sword wildly at his foe.
Vaskalen had chosen a good wielder, as the boy, Galan, quickly blocked, dodged or parried each of the ice innate's attacks. Despite persistent training, the ice warrior's attacks were still clunky and untrained. He had to find a way to balance out his lack of skill with his magic, but how could he do that here, this guy was skilled. Then it hit Zachary, A trap, the boy thought, recalling how he had defeated Kellson. Now comes the fun part: Moving him into position, the red haired youth thought as he scanned the area for water. It was slowly becoming ample thanks to his attacks, and now all the ice innate had to do was finish his trap.
Moving quickly away from the Hellfire Blade and its wielder, the ice innate began to form ice shards and throw them like mad. Each attack did little damage, merely being deflected or shattered by the demonic fire blade. Little did the wielder, nor his blade, know what Leos was planning. The swordsman continued this pattern of run and attack, and the warrior, Galan, merely responded in the same way, deflecting and countering the red haired boy's attack.
It was all coming together, although the use of magic was taking its toll on the young ice innate. In his battle with Kellson, sources of water were abundant, but here, in this small land oriented village, the only water that the ice innate could produce would be from his melting ice. Just a bit more, the ice warrior thought as he suddenly charged at the swordsman, quickly clashing blades.
The two warriors stood in a blade lock for a moment before the one called Galan spoke up. "Your attacks fail to amuse me. Perhaps you could try harder?"
"You have no idea what I've got planned," the ice innate whispered to his foe, making sure that everything was in position.
What are you doing?! the Demon lord barked, awaiting his lackey to kill this man. Just kill him already! the demon ordered, and the boy answered him, although unknowingly.
"Time to show you what I had planned from the start!" Zachary stated, pushing their blades towards the ground and freezing the water that now littered the streets. The ice innate stepped backwards, skating along the ice as if it were land. "So, how do you like what I've done to this place?" the avenger asked, smiling mockingly at his foe.
You haven't done anything other then freeze the land! the Hellfire Blade yelled, nearly laughing at the ice innate.
"Oh, I've done so much more, you can't even imagine," the ice innate said, his mind and Magnus' agreeing on this. Even if Zachary didn't realize it, he could find his greatest power, all he would have to do is keep the demon appeased.
OoC: Sorry if I misrepresented one of your characters, just tell me so through PM and I will remedy the problem. Oh, and now that the ground is frozen, although Zachary can't use the ice, it gives him an edge upping his movement speed. That's really all it does.
“Galan,” called the Hellfire Sword. “Let’s melt his foolish attempt to pull something on us.”
“Yes, master,” responded its wielder. “Hellfire!”
Once again, the ruby-red flames gently caressed the blade of the sword, giving it an eerie beauty like no other. “That won’t melt my ice,” retorted the avenger. “You’ll have to do better then just a small flame.” Galan gave a soft chuckle at this statement; the youth had no idea what was coming. He lifted Vaskalen above his head, as though stretching for the sky. It gave the impression of a torch lighting the way along a dark path, but that was as far from the truth as possible.
Grabbing the sword with both hands, the wielder aimed the sword of hellfire toward the ground. “Hell Pyre!” Galan shouted, stabbing the ground with the demonic blade. Instantly, a large fireball erupted from the impact sight, blinding light and heat accompanying a fierce, deafening booming sound. Several seconds passed until the smoke from the initial blast cleared. The avenger had vanished completely from sight, something that worried Vaskalen immensely.
Anything wooden in the area lay in ashes, incinerated by the massive fireball. Pools of water had formed where the ice the youth had bragged would be there undoing. Looking over the devastation, Galan turned back toward the church, confident he had slain the avenger.
Wait, whispered the Hellfire Sword in his ear. I can still sense the demonic aura from that blade, but I cannot tell from where. That annoying child may still be around, possibly waiting in ambush.
“I’ll keep that in mind, master,” responded the servant of the sword. Slowly, the young man walked down the once lively street to the Town Square. He strained his ears, looking for even the slightest of sounds that would give away the avenger’s position. It seemed, however, that the youth was gone. Yet the demonic energy of the sword remained.
“Let’s check out that sword he was carrying,” spoke the devil’s sword. “The aura seems familiar from somewhere, but I can’t quite pinpoint where, or even when.” After a few minutes of concentration, Vaskalen was able to pinpoint where the demonic sword lay.
“Master, why is this so important?” Galan asked. It refused to answer this question, so the wielder accepted that as a “Don’t ask me.” Following his master’s orders, they entered an old bell tower that used to house the village clock. Now decimated, the stairs leading to the top twisted and turned as if it was a giant snake housed in the narrow confines of the tower.
Each step creaked dangerously as the warrior, weighed down by his heavy clothes and his master. Something was not right in this musty, mostly untouched corner of the ruined village.
OoC: Meh, it's short, but I did not want to over-control your character. (Plus I could not find anywhere to go after the last semi-paragraph)
It had been all too close. Zachary saw the flames as they moved towards him dangerously, threatening to engulf him. He had to think quickly if he were going to survive, and that is just what he did. He stabbed his blade into the ground and ducked behind it, unleashing as much power as he could in order to save his own life, and it had worked.
The ice innate's energy was drained already, but he could still get away. He pulled his sword from the ground and made a mad dash towards the nearest building. Most of them, like the ice that he had created, had been absolutely annihilated by his attack. Such power, it was unlike anything Zachary had ever seen. The sword's power seemed to make even the power he had seen of Zorlo's inferior, but who knew that for sure?
The ice warrior sure as hell didn't know the full power of the Aura Master, but he certainly wasn't on the list of priorities at this moment. The avenger only cared about surviving, and he burst through the streets like a bat out of hell, as ironic as that was at this point, looking for any place he could hide. The ash of the buildings, combined with the smoke from the flames, made it hard to see, but then something began to take shape.
Then he saw it! The building of his salvation, and he rushed towards it. The bell tower had been just outside of the monster's range, and the ice warrior rushed up the stairs hoping to find a place to hide out for a short while. His tired feet rushed to the top and he plopped himself down under the bell. His body was exhausted, his energy drained, and worst of all, that creature was still out there.
Suddenly, Zachary's eyes opened, the vivid image of what had just happened fleeting from his eyelids. He was safe, if only for now. His sword lay on the ground, the runes barely burning with any energy anymore. The runes that had once glowed light blue brightly were now nearly faded, the sword was as drained as its user.
His back rested against the side of the tower, his body resting in the small room he had moved into. The bell rest just above him, the sign of his salvation in this case, although the slightest wrong move would reveal where he was hidden. He inhaled deeply and then allowed himself to rest slightly. For now, the danger had passed.
Who is that kid? More importantly, what is that sword? It seems to be the source of that kids power, but how can I disarm him? the ice innate pondered, his energy slowly returning, although not to the point where he could move. Those two are a strong combination, and are even more deadly because that sword seems to be very powerful in its own right. I guess they have a mutual understanding or something. Too bad my sword isn't sentient.
Although what Zachary said wasn't true, it wasn't entirely false either. Although Magnus had his freedom, it wasn't enough that he could merely step in at any time. Even if he did step in now, it would be for not because the ice innate's powers were drained. What good are you now, boy?! Magnus asked, angered as he normally was. If you can't beat a sword, what chance do you have against that fencer? His power isn't that much greater then ours! the Demon Lord exaggerated.
As much as he hated to admit it, the demonic exile knew this foe's power was far greater then any power he had seen Zachary use. This battle was futile to the fallen Lord, for if the boy died, he'd never be able to destroy the fencer. To make his matters worse, the boy could no longer hear his whispers, the sword and its user not in contact. The demon sighed, all he could do now was wait for the end.
Something suddenly broke Zach's silence. The sound of a body pressing against the wooden steps of the bell tower filled the entire tower. He was coming, and the ice innate could barely move. Leos placed his hand on the hilt of his dagger as the young warrior emerged from the tower to face him. "So, are you ready to die?" Galan asked, his sword suddenly barking at him.
Not yet, it said, the warrior stopped. First, let me see this sword of his, the Hellfire sword stated.
A sharp ping rang out as the ice innate's dagger ran past the swords master's face, leaving a small cut on it. In a moment of surprise, the wielder of the sword grabbed the ice innate and hurled him through one side of the bell tower. Leos flew until he slammed into a nearby roof that only stood about ten feet lower then the top of the tower. The building had prevented him from being splattered, but his luck didn't seem any better as the roof below him collapsed and he fell through a table, through the second floor, onto a bed on the first floor, who's stands collapsed when the boy hit it. All that could be heard was a resounding, "Ow," from in the room Zachary had landed in.
Galan grabbed the rune blade, its runes glowing as faintly as when it lay on the ground. Who dares disturb me? Magnus asked angrily at the new person holding the blade he had enchanted.
OoC: Dialouge galore! that means plenty of oppertunity to mees up a personality. Scold me if I got it wrong.
“I am Galan, chosen wielder of the Hellfire Sword: Vaskalen,” answered the young man to the spirit in the sword.
“That’s enough Galan,” interrupted the sword of Hellfire. “Use my servant to communicate with me, demon sword. I wish to know why your aura feels so familiar.”
“It says that he doesn’t know … and that you seem familiar as well. Something he felt when he was a Demon Lord,” mediated Galan.
“So, I take it you were sealed into the sword by some do-gooder bent on making the world a better place? I hope not, otherwise, I would laugh at you and your inferior skills. Lowly demon,” scowled Vaskalen.
“It says that if you desire to remain in one piece, you should shut up. Oh, I’m sorry master, I’m just.”
“I know, so don’t worry about it, Galan,” interrupted Vaskalen once more. “I have just a few more questions for you, demon. Why do you use such a weak boy to do your bidding? Surly you could find someone better?”
“The demon says that the boy will do for now and that is all you need to know,” replied the wielder.
“Fine, one last question you poor excuse for a demon. Why do you think I’ll let you Merge my strength with both you and the boy? I am no fool, why else would a weak boy with a demonic blade go into such a dangerous place? After all, I was made for the devil, curse his name to the deepest bowels hatred has ever known.”
“It asks why you curse the name of Satan, and it is refusing to answer your question, master,” Galan answered.
“I curse the name of the pompous, idiotic, and foolish ******* for one reason only. For his cowardice and his grave and embarrassing defeat during the war in Heaven! Not only did his neglect leave to my damage, but he also caved in to God’s demand to throw me into exile on this damned plain, only to sit for eternity!”
Sensing his master’s anger, the one named Galan dropped the rune-incrusted sword. The clatter echoed into the bell, causing a slight ringing in the large, dirty, brass bell. “Now,” continued the Hellfire sword. “Let us kill that sword’s worthless servant.” Without saying a word, the wielder turned to the stairs of the tower, making his way down the snake-like steps, and back onto the street in search of their target.
Walking down the now quiet street, the young man and the devil’s sword looked for an entrance into the building where the avenger had fallen through the roof. It was easy to spot an entrance. Broken glass from a window right beside a broken bed indicated the avenger had fled the scene. Looks as if we have a bit of a chase on our hands, whispered Vaskalen in his wielder’s ear.
A wide smile spread on Galan’s face. He always liked it when his prey ran, much more fun then if the cowered in terror before the end. Now invigorated, the wielder sped down the street, eager to find the boy and slice him down for good.
Well, the ice innate thought, trying to muster the energy to move, I will never have to ask myself, "What would it be like to be thrown out of a tower through a large number of objects prior to hitting something soft that is conveniently placed," now. The joke made the boy laugh slightly, but he coughed some as he laughed, small amounts of blood coming up his throat. He was in bad shape, and an even worse place, for once that guy found him, it would be all over.
The ice innate stirred to get his body moving, trying to move the whole thing, but getting no response. How hard did I hit this bed? My whole body feels like its broken, the ice warrior thought silently as he tried to rouse his body. His eyes peered silently out the hole he had created when his body had gone hurdling through the air and into this building. The sky was now mostly gray, and slowly becoming darker. Perhaps a storm was brewing, but even so, it wouldn't matter, the boy neither had his sword, nor could he move.
I am not going to die like this. Staring blankly into the sky, wondering if it is going to rain or not. That isn't the way and avenger should go out! the youth reprimanded himself silently, slowly forcing himself to sit up. He breathed hard, moving hurt a good deal, but at least he was trying. He slid his legs off the bed and looked around. The coast was absolutely clear; there wasn't a single sign that the warrior that had attacked so angrily before hunted for the boy. What was that guy doing, leaving his foe alive like this? Stupid is what he was, and the Zachary would show him that, but first the red haired youth needed a weapon.
I need a weapon, and just about anything will do, he told himself, feeling his energy returning slowly. Without Magnus, nothing drew from the innate's energy, meaning his supply of power could recover and not be transferring itself into controlling the runes of the sword. No matter how much of his magical energy recovered, though, the ice innate would need his sword to defeat this foe.
A sudden cool breeze blew into the town, the storm clouds drew ever nearer, making the city darker, grayer. A looming sense of what had happened was about to be washed away if it rained as the blood would flow through the streets into the nearby river. THE RIVER! That was it. If Zachary couldn't defeat the sword's power on land, he'd merely lure it to where its power's were obviously less effective. Now all the ice innate needed was his sword.
The ice innate then saw what he could use as a weapon, and it was right in front of him. A plank of wood, mostly whole, lay at his feet, and he bent down and picked it up, swinging the two by four to get a feel for it. Man, I feel like that idiot Kellson wielding a plank of wood like a weapon. What am I, some kind of low class street brawler? the ice warrior asked himself, but knowing it was his only choice. After all, he had decided to throw his dagger at that guy, and all the missing did was leave the would be swordsman defenseless.
The warrior, against his great pain, slowly moved out of the building, hiding in a nearby alleyway, watching as the other swordsman moved towards the building the young Leos had landed in. The warrior Galan entered the building, looking around and smiling, off expecting a hunt.
The warrior of the Hellfire Sword spun around and was about to head out when the red haired boy struck. Appearing out of the shadows he had ducked in, he cracked Galan across the face with his plank, shattering it, but knocking the Hellfire's warrior down and giving the ice innate a chance to run towards the bell tower.
He felt the cool breeze as he rushed up the stairs, reaching the top before long, but he could hear the steps of the warrior coming up the stairs. Sheathing his dagger and grabbing his sword, who's runes glowed half as brightly as they had before Zachary had expended all of his energy, and had to think quickly. Well, the stairs are off limits, since he's coming up. that means I've only got one choice, the swordsman told himself, stepping back and running forwards, jumping out of the bell tower and towards where he had created a nice, hopefully soft landing.
The ice warrior flew through the air, making the jump and landing through the hole exactly where he had created it, his feet hitting the bed and firing him off of it, throwing him into the ground. His legs shook slightly, but he didn't have time to think about that.
He rushed out of the building, back into the street, and as he was about to make a break for the lake, he saw Galan standing in the street, waving the boy on. "Well, it seems you found me, but your time is nearly up," the voice of the boy and the demon of his that lived in his sword both stated.
Suddenly, something unexpected happened: the rain began to fall. The two warriors stood in the cool rain, but something was amiss. Zachary closed his eyes and opened them again, his eyes now a dark blue. "Are you ready to fight, wannabe?" the avenger said, his power awakening and a dark blue aura escaping him, freezing the falling rain around him in to ice needles, all that started pointing at his foe. "Die!" the ice innate yelled, the needles shooting at his foe.
Time seemed to slow to a craw as the myriad of razor-sharp ice crystals sped toward the sword of Hellfire and it’s wielder. Without a single word of communication between the two, Galan called on the Hell Pyre technique. Once more, a large fireball erupted from the ground, causing the ice crystals to melt into naught but water.
Dust, kicked up by the pressure of the fireball, obscured the area around the sword from Hell. Using this as an advantage, Vaskalen and Galan released a barrage of Bloodwave Blade attacks from the dust. Seeing the barrage, the avenger managed to dodge every one of them, causing them to ram into a nearby building. Smoke and rock rushed out of the building, like an open wound gushing out vast quantities of blood.
Vaskalen and his wielder then bolted out of the cloud that gave them cover from the ice elementist, exposing themselves to any possible danger. The avenger charged at them fearlessly, completely unlike the boy they had been fighting before. It’s as if he’s a different person, thought Vaskalen. Just what is he?
The boy’s new fighting style left him reckless. Charging after them with blade drawn, he went into full head-on-head combat with the obviously superior swordsman. Galan parried every move the youth threw at him, his ice and sword attacks easily deflected. Meanwhile, the heavens above continued their now torrential downpour, as though reflecting the sorrow the bloodstained land felt.
Flames crackled gently in he hearth of the fireplace in the rather small, yet highly important office. Behind the elaborate desk this room featured, sat a highly distinguished man. He surveyed the room for what felt like the ten thousandth time that day. Sighing, the man leaned back on his expensive, leather chair and put his feet on the desk.
“I’m too good at my job,” stated the man. “There is absolutely nothing to do today.”
As though that were a summon, an angelic figure appeared in the circle etched on the floor in front of the desk. To any normal person, this would have been a sign from God. However, to the man, this meant his boredom was at an end. “My lord, there seems to be a problem,” said the angel, addressing the man behind the desk.
“Really,” replied the man, his interest peeked. He put his feet off the table, and back onto the marble floor, turned to the angel and said, “Tell me more.”
“Well, we have been receiving unusual MP readings from the area around a small village called,” the angel paused, looking at his notes. “Sarin-Cortessa.”
Pushing a button on his chair, the man behind the deck pulled up a floating, digital map of the world. “Sarin-Cortessa, eh?” He said. After typing in the name of the village, a satellite image appeared on the screen, blackened by a storm cloud. Reviewing his mental list of things he had to accomplish, or lack thereof, he quickly turned to the angel and said, “Tell the investigations unit to lay off. Also, prepare my chopper. I plan to investigate this situation personally.”
The youth gripped his blade tightly, his now blue eyes looking with great anger at his foe. All inhibition had vanished from his mind, for he was now empowered beyond what his mind could handle. Magnus could no longer hope to contact the boy, for he heard nothing of his mind, his only drive: self preservation. The ice innate didn't need anything else right now, this foe was too strong for him to fight head on, and also, his foe's powerful magic far too strong to fight with the swordsman's own magic. Whether Magnus, and Zachary for that matter, liked it, this was the best way to fight this foe.
Baring his teeth like a wild dog, he charged forwards, his sword quickly developing a large amount of ice covering it, sharp as razor. The runes on the blade were no longer necessary, for the ice warrior's aura seemed to be doing well, and as the rain neared his energy, it thickened the ice around the sword. The blade lengthened nearly a foot from simply the amount of ice that formed on it, and even if the blade weighed more, the swordsman didn't notice.
Finally, his foe was within range, and the boy began to swing wildly. The fire blade wielder quickly moved his sword to block the attacks the ice innate threw, but found himself being pushed back with each strike of the ice covered weapon. Chips and shards of ice cracked off the blade as the two swords clashed, but simply reformed after the ice was gone, and slowly got thicker and sharper.
The blades continued to collide, but Zachary's blade had grown to nearly five feet, now making it hard for Galan to knock away without being in danger. With a very fast, powerful wing, the blade swished past the wielder's face, cutting him slightly above the nose. The small amount of blood that Leos had drawn dripped off the tip of his sword, and he swung a powerful downward attack, intent on cutting his foe in half.
This attack may have worked had it been from behind, mostly considering the length of the sword (Now nearly six feet), but like this, all it did was make it easy to deflect as Galan moved forwards and pushed Vaskalen upwards, clashing closer to the ice innate's hands and forcing the sword from them, throwing the rune sword high into the air and landing about twenty feet from its user.
Whereas Zachary merely flew through the air for a second before flipping over in mid air and looking at his foe angrily. He landed on his hands and knees, taking a fierce, animal like stance before bursting towards his foe at a speed that was unprecedented for the ice innate. His body flew through the air violently, thrusting his fist at the sword wielder, who merely placed the blade of his sword pointing at the red haired boy which clashed, a clang ringing out; it wasn't the sound of bone versus metal, but rather, something harder, a thick layer of ice over the boy's fist.
With a quick upward jerk, the covering shattered and the warrior moved under his foe's blade, which was now in the air, and punched the warrior in his forehead, throwing him back. The red haired swordsman smiled and changed the focus of his magic from his sword or fist and to his entire right arm. Slowly, it became encased in a blade similar to the one that had grown over his sword, but this one only adding about a foot to the warrior's arm before stopping. He smiled with malicious intent and charged again.
Stop him! the Hellfire Sword ordered as the ice innate leapt up and quickly unleashed its Hell Pyre technique, destroying the ice innate's blade and throwing him back. Stupid boy. What happened to make him this vicious? the sword asked its wielder in pure annoyance.
Slowly, the ice innate rose and the aura that surrounded him quickly created a massive number of needles as he picked up his sword and held it in front of him, readying to charge again. Suddenly, he swung the sword down and launched the tens of needles at his foe, dragging the frozen blade of his sword along the ground and swinging it horizontally as he drew close enough to attack, intent on cutting his foe in half by the waist.
But something seemed to be watching the fight from the shadows. Some onlooker of no malicious intent, but rather of interest, in this fight. He rested his right hand upon the pommel of his sword and kept an unusually close eye on the red haired youth. Interesting, this man told himself. Such power, but no control over his mind with it. What an interesting thing. I wonder how long the power will last at this rate? He can't control it, so I doubt long, the man told himself, examining the battle closely as it raged on.
OoC: A little on the short side, but I don't like over-controlling characters.
A hard decision now lay in front of the wielder: impaled by tens of ice needles, or chopped in half, which would cause less pain? With no time to think, the swordsman relied on pure instinct. Blocking the avenger’s blade, several razor sharp shards of ice pierced his body, one of them just inches from his now tainted heart.
Raising his master, he chopped off the edges of the icicles as the wild youth came in for another attack. Neither master nor servant could predict such a sharp incline of power, but the youth could not seem to control it yet. The attacker swung wildly, still trying to land a blow on Vaskalen’s wielder. Yet, this was a ruse, since more needles of ice charged towards them.
Quickly dodging the needles, the Hellfire Sword grew angry at the avenger. No more fooling around, whispered Vaskalen to Galan. Next chance you get, use Diabolic Blast!
“Yes, master,” answered Galan over the sound of the increasingly fierce battle.
Blood slowly began to seep out of the wielder’s wounds, a double-edged sword for Vaskalen. The blood itself would give the sword more power, but it would weaken its user at the same time. If the Hellfire sword wanted to win this fight, it would have to be soon.
It was Galan’s turn to go on the offensive. As soon as the avenger dropped his guard, the swordsman unleashed a flurry of steel and flesh, now using his own body as weapons. Seeing an opening, Galan delivered a punch with his free hand to the avenger’s head, making him lose balance, and fall to the ground where we was able to call on Hellfire and stab him once in his left shoulder.
More blood came out into the open, causing Vaskalen to increase in power. If Galan could get more wounds like that on the avenger, they would be able to end this annoyance and hindrance to its plan. The boy wreathed in pain, the burning fires of Hell licking at the wound. If it had a mouth, Vaskalen would be grinning from ear to ear at this pleasant development.
“So,” spoke the sword form Hell. “We come to the final curtain. I must say though, that you have proven the first real challenge to my goals. For that, I will remember killing you. What an honour for you, I’m sure.” Little did Vaskalen know that there was a trap laying in wait.
Galan raised his sword, about to deliver the finishing blow. However, the ice innate rolled out of the blades way, getting his clothes wet on the damp cobblestone. Vaskalen, slightly imbedded in the stone from the sheer power behind that final blow, ordered his servant to give chase. Slipping on the ice created by the innate while he was not looking, Galan let go of his master, sending it flying into the air and several feet away. The force of the fall winded the swordsman, stopping him from reacting before this could happen.
Zachary jumped backwards through the air, letting go of his sword and letting it drop to the ground, revealing how many runes remained. Only two of the six runes glowed blue, meaning his power was almost completely drained. His time was running short, and he'd have no choice but to strike at his foe and finish him in the next few minutes. Although his foe did not have his weapon, the ice innate's mind was still clouded by his animal-like mind from the mixture of powers. He landed on his hands and toes, sliding back and freezing the ground as he did so, getting ready to attack.
Pulling his hands through the ice beneath then, he bolted at the young warrior who was now disarmed. The youth bared his teeth, pushing himself into the air and bringing a fist down towards his foe, who rolled away from it. As the red haired boy's hand struck the ground, it froze over. His blue eyes turning to find his escaping foe, who moved for his sword. With an almost growl from the swordsman, he charged in the same manner as prior, in a four-legged attack. He pushed himself skywards again and tried to the kick the man, but he simply rolled forwards, causing the boy to rip through the side of a building, leaving an icy trail where his leg had ripped through the building.
Galan quickly moved himself forwards, seeing as he was getting closer to his sword. He had noticed that his foe was no longer using so much power, noticing his attacks had become strictly physical in nature now. Perhaps the warrior even took note of the slowly vanishing runic energy in the sword, but who knew at that moment, he was only driven to recover his sword. There was one obvious thing: This fight between these two warriors would end soon.
As the runes vanished, even the weather seemed to respond, the once dark clouds becoming lighter in color and the rain becoming more sparse. The once red streets were now, for the better part, clear of blood. The ash and cinders left behind from the flames had all been washed away, along with almost any memory of the city except the wooden walls that surrounded it. So many had died this day that for no one to recall would be a tragedy... but there would be at least two who remembered.
The ice innate ground his teeth tightly, pushing forward and attacking again, throwing a punch that the wielder evaded, but barely, as it passed his face, and then had to quickly duck a fast kick that followed almost fluidly after. The youth's attacks were becoming relentless, and more then that desperate, as his reckless charges only wound up with him taking a fist to the gut and being thrown back. His body skidded, producing ice as he stopped again and pushed forwards again to attack, but things had changed when that happened.
The wielder had recovered his Master and was now ready to continue this battle. He quickly evaded a flurry of punches and kicks from the youth, and soon enough, scored a hit, driving his blade into Leos' gut, and pulling it back quickly. Even though the attack hurt, the ice innate could barely feel anything at this point and delivered a strong punch to his foe's face, freezing the skin as his fist left the face. Galan landed a few feet away, now with an ice imposed impression of a punch on his face. If he tried to remove it, the pain would be unbearable, so rather, he used his master to help melt it off.
Even so, the boy charged again, his mind still driven by simple madness as the battle dragged on. The warrior summoned up Hellfire and unleashed his Hell Pyre attack, engulfing the charging ice innate who used the moisture around him and freezing it to help him survive the attack with little harm. He pushed his body backwards and sprung forwards. The clouds were almost gone, the rain nearly over, and it seemed that soon too would be the ice innate.
He’s weakening, whispered Vaskalen to his wielder. Just endure a little longer and we’ll be able to cut him down.
With the upper half of his body bent forward, the avenger charged at the swordsman letting out a fierce battle cry as his feet propelled him forward. Galan looked upon the youth with contempt; surely such a maneuver was foolhardy on his part. It made no difference to the servant of the Hellfire sword; soon the crusading avenger would be dead. Getting into a ready stance, Galan prepared to deliver the final blow to this most annoying of opponents.
Going in for the kill, the avenger swung his runic blade horizontally, possibly aiming to cut Galan in half. Seeing right through this predictable attack, the wielder fell flat on his back, dodging it. This put him in the perfect position to launch a counter-attack. Because he was moving with such speed, the avenger was unable to avoid the Hellfire sword from coming up and stabbing him in the chest.
In the sky above the rural fields and hills flew a strange object to the people on the ground. Seldom was it that they saw a craft of the like. The older and much wiser people knew: it had to be the Universal Protection Agency. Every since they were founded, the UPA were always vastly ahead in terms of technology. To the people in the chopper, all that mattered was getting to their destination.
“What is our ETA?” The man asked.
“Three minutes,” replied the pilot. Leaning on the frame of the open door, the man, now dressed casual attire could feel a rattle on his belt. Looking down, he could see that his sword was the source of the vibration. Something is amiss, thought the highly important man.
“Lord Nira,” shouted the pilot over the hum of the rotors. “We’re here.”
He gave a small sigh and turned to the man saying, “You can call me William, you know.”
“Sorry, sir,” replied the pilot.
“No matter,” answered William Nira. “I’ll get off here, you guys land somewhere safe until I come back.” Giving his leader a simple nod, the pilot hovered the chopper about five hundred feet off the ground. As though going down a step, the leader jumped off the helicopter, and down to the ground below.
As though jumping down a distance one hundredth the size, the UPA leader softly touched down on the drenched grass. Watching as the chopper flew into the distance, he began to walk to the town of Sarin-Courtessa. Coming over the edge of the final hill, a scene of deviation met his hazel eyes. The town lay in ruins, smoke rising from the remaining buildings. Yet, three auras remained inside the confines of its wooden walls.
“Well, lets see what is going on here,” said Lord Nira to himself. He then slowly began to walk toward the dead town.
His sword carried him forwards, causing him to slide and spin about as he slowly turned, looking at his foe. The youth had held his own against the much stronger swordsman, but it had all been for naught. The last rune on the sword's energy vanished, and the boy blinked, revealing his eyes had become brown again. His now weakened hands dropped the runic weapon to the ground as he fell to his knees, barely conscious. His energy was absolutely drained, barely able to look up at his foe, who stood only feet from him.
Galan looked at the young man, his eyes suddenly filling with a hint of anger as he charged and lifted his leg up, punting the boy. The ice innate's body flew through the air for a few seconds before he landed on the ground, utterly unconscious. The wielder looked at the boy, approaching slowly, holding his Master tightly. "It's time you died," he whispered, standing up to his full height and looking at the unconscious ice warrior.
Oh how simple it would be now. The ice innate was unconscious, and aside from a little wounded, the wielder of the Hellfire Sword was in good condition. The two looked down at the boy with a good amount of disdain for him, because he had challenged them in a way none before had. Slowly, the man raised his Master, getting ready to make one last charge at the swordsman. "End it now, Galan!" Vaskalen ordered, and his servant obliged, charging recklessly at the unconscious form of his foe.
The clouds had vanished and all traces that it would rain vanished with the return of the swordsman to inhibition. What little stood of the village was desolate and decimated. With no population, it would be long before any new villages would appear in this area. The streets that had once ran red with blood were now clean, like a freshly finished drink from a cup. How small this change would be in the world aspect was not what one onlooker thought of, but rather, how horrible what had happened was.
He watched, wearing a dark green cloak, his eyes and face hidden within it as he watched the warrior speak with his Master, the sword he held. The man laughed, opening his hand and clenching his left hand, the sound of the metal pushing together making a slight noise. It was suddenly that the warrior began his charge, and the cloaked man had no choice: He had to intervene.
He moved like the wind, intent on stopping the death of the warrior he had been watching over for a while with interest. The change in the boy had amazed the warrior, as he moved quickly, his hood remaining high and his arms out to the side, catching the wind as he rushed towards the defenseless warrior.
Galan raised his master, about to swing him down as a sudden force impacted him with astounding strength. Green flames shot from the intruder's gauntlet as it struck the wielder in the chest, throwing him backward, tumbling as he hit the ground. The man that had stepped in was nothing like the last person Galan had fought; he was much, much stronger.
"Who are you?!" the Hellfire Sword asked angrily. Its wielder slowly getting up, the armored hand that had punched him had winded him hard. A little higher, and the punch would have killed the boy.
"Let's just say I'm a concerned citizen who doesn't like it when people pick on his ward, is all," the man stated, raising his armored left hand and waving his foes on. "Well, if you are here to fight, you've got one. So, let's end this then!" the man said, a pair of emerald orbs appearing from the hood, gazing at his foes, who were slow to rise to their feet.
OoC: Woo. William Nira, my own NPC has arrived on the scene. Things should get interesting now.
Completely winded from the blow, Galan struggled to regain his composure. He looked at the intruder with hatred burning in his eyes, what gave him the right to intervene, ward or not? Still breathing heavily, the swordsman rose his master, pointing it at the intruder’s face. “You’re going to regret doing that,” stated the wielder. “You will only end up the same was as the stupid avenger,” he added while pointing at the unconscious ice innate.
“We shall see about that,” replied the cloaked intruder.
Vaskalen, however, was not as confident as his wielder. If that boy was his ward, thought the Hellfire Sword. Then this guy must be even more powerful. He has probably seen a good share of the things I have done, so convincing him to join me is impossible. He must die! Out of all of that, the sword only let his servant hear the last sentence. Giving a slight nod in understanding, Galan got into his battle stance.
As though waiting for something to happen, the swordsman stood there, staring at the intruder. “Attack!” Vaskalen shouted. The boy, waiting for that order, then charged at the man in the dark-green cloak. Going in for the kill, the swordsman’s blade was stopped dead cold but the gauntlet on the intruder’s arm. He then delivered a powerful punch to the wielder of the Hellfire Sword, causing his to fly back, dropping his master in the process.
Walking past the charred village gates, the one know as Lord Nira got his first view of the devastation. He paused at the threshold of the gate, uttering a small prayer so that their souls would enter heaven in peace. A crisp wind began to blow as he walked onto the cobblestone street that once flowed with blood. A battle is taking place, thought the man as he sensed the heightened energy coming from near the village square.
Quickening his stride in anticipation, the man moved through the streets, past the dead bodies that lay on the ground. If he had arrived a few minutes earlier, a couple of them may have lived. Luck, however, didn’t lie on their side. The all too familiar clash of metal on metal met his ears as he approached the square. Not wanting to reveal himself yet, the man named William jumped onto a nearby roof effortlessly.
From the top of this roof, Lord Nira had a birds-eye view of the battlefield. On the ground, two people squared off against each other. One exhumed a green aura and wore a cloak to match. The other exhumed a red and disturbingly familiar aura. Another still, unconscious though, exhumed a blue aura. At the moment though, the man could not care less about the others, and kept his gaze on the red aura.
Sitting on the edge of the roof, out of sight, he could see the blade the young man wielded. William’s sword rattled again in its scabbard. “What is the matter, Himotarien,” he asked his sword.
“I never thought,” voiced the sword. “I would ever see that cur again. It appears, however, that Vaskalen: The Hellfire Sword, continues to exist.”
The warrior slowly pushed himself to his knees, completely and utterly surprised at the power of his foe. Only one attack had connected with the swordsman, and he was already winded and exhausted from it. The warrior known as Galan looked forwards, seeing his Master laid on its flat side upon the ground, and the strange cloaked man looking at something that he couldn't discern from the hood the man wore. Galan appeared to be in complete surprise, mostly because this foe seemed unlike any warrior he had probably fought before.
The wielder coughed up some blood, his body still aching from the last attack the stranger had hit him with. The only thing the servant worried about now was the recovery of his Master and slaying the intruder as fast as he could. "Master, I'm coming!" the youth yelled, pushing himself to his feet and charging at the green cloaked man, who now stood in front of the Hellfire Blade. The young swordsman leapt into the air, intent on knocking his foe away and claiming his Master again.
The intruder watched as his foe leapt at him and smiled beneath his dark hood, quickly spinning around and delivering a powerful roundhouse to the wielder, sending him flying through the air into a nearby house. Galan looked at the cloaked man with anger in his acid green eyes as his body slid down the wood of the building. Pain seemed to run through every part of him as he slid down, incapable of rising at that moment.
The cloaked warrior merely shrugged off his attacker and bent over, picking up the Hellfire blade and looking at it. He examined the blade and noticed the hole in it, along with the strange, sharp, claw like extension on it. Suddenly, they tried to clamp his armored hand, but merely left a resonating clank as they hit and retracted. The armored hands of the intruder had no signs of scratching or bending from the attack. The cloaked warrior only continued to look at the sword oddly.
"What the hell are those gauntlets made of that my spikes can neither scratch, nor dent them?" Vaskalen asked in annoyance as it continually tried to pierce them, making no difference with each try. After about six tries, the sword finally stopped its vain attempt at making this warrior its servant. "Damn that metal is annoyingly hard! Galan, get up and kill this fool!" the sword yelled to its wielder, who's eye opened as he slowly tried to push himself upright.
"The sword talks, and it is trying to corrupt my mind," the intruder stated, holding the blade up and looking at it again. "You aren't a very impressive sword, did you know that?" the cloaked man stated, swinging the sword about.
"HOW DARE YOU INSULT ME! Galan, come get me so we can kill this mortal!" the blade ordered as his servant finally stood tall.
"Hey, kid! If you want this sword, take it! It isn't a very good sword. Has too big of a mouth for my taste," the concealed warrior stated as he whipped Vaskalen like a common throwing knife. The Hellfire blade whizzed through the air until it embedded itself in the building its wielder used to prop himself up, missing the boy's head by mere inches. The intruder grabbed his gauntlets and pulled them down slightly, adjusting them just for the sake of it. "Hey, kid, you ready to continue? If you and your Master are so tough, come and fight me," the cloaked fighter stated, waving the boy on again.
Looking down on the battlefield, the man known as the Lord of Light could see that the man wielding the sword named Vaskalen was at a great disadvantage. Overpowered in almost every manner by the man in the green cloak, the scrawny, sorry excuse for a swordsman would certainly meet defeat. He’s overconfident, mused the master swordsman. I’ll bet he hasn’t lost a single battle either: A dangerous combination indeed.
The wielder looked at the cloaked man venomously; it was one thing to insult him, but his master? He would not stand for it, no matter how powerful the foe was. Grabbing the Hellfire sword form the wall it was imbedded in, he pulled it out and pointed it directly at the intruder’s heart. Still reeling from the blow, he charged again at the man that enraged him so.
Where is that Mioska when you need her? Vaskalen asked himself. If she were here, this mortal fool would be dead! Galan continued to charge at full speed, calling on Hellfire as he ran down the street. Jumping into the air, he attempted to slam it on the cloaked man’s head. However, to his great displeasure, the man blocked it again, and delivered another punch in quick succession.
“Will you ever learn?” Asked the man in the green cloak. The attack sending him flying, the swordsman flew into a second story window of the building behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out the shape of a man, standing on the roof of the building on the opposite side of the street. However, he could not be sure because next second, Galan lay flat on the hard, wooden floor.
Looks like he saw me, though William after seeing the novice swordsman fly into the window. I had better move. Moving the speed of Light, he jumped from the roof of the building to the top of the bell tower in an instant, unseen by anyone. His new vantage-point offered a much broader view then his old one anyway; able to see down the street and out to the hill he came across.
“Ow,” groaned the swordsman. Lying on broken glass which began to cut into his back. Slowly, he got back on his feet. He’s strong, thought Galan in disgust. I don’t think I’ll be able to take him for much longer. “Master,” he asked the sword. “Do you think we should call Mioska and Zalif?”
“Not quite yet,” answered the Hellfire sword. “Let’s see if we can’t find a weakness in him first. We can’t win, at least not yet, but if we learn his weaknesses, we’ll be sure to get him should we cross paths again.”
“So, you’re saying we should retreat?” Galan asked.
“No,” retorted the Devil’s Sword. “Not as long as you can fight.”
“Understood,” replied the swordsman. Brushing the glass off, he and Vaskalen ran back down the stairs, well knowing the danger they were putting themselves in. When they got down, however, they switched to a more stealthy tacit, hoping to catch the strange and powerful man off guard. They had still yet to realize their worst fear was watching over them like a hawk.
As the swordsman flew through the roof of the building, the cloaked man caught a glimpse of a man standing upon the roof of the building. Even though the man moved very fast, the cloaked fighter could follow this man's movements, and even smiled about his watching. So, we've got a spectator. I guess I'm lucky I'm wearing this hood or else he'd be able to know what I look like. The dark cloaked man laughed at this thought as he slowly began moving towards the building.
The hooded intruder wasn't one to underestimate his foes, and knew all too well how strong the foes that were before him, and they had little chance. Even if the sword was powerful, its wielder was flimsy, so it couldn't hope to defeat the concealed warrior. The warrior veiled by the dark green cloak walked silently, awaiting some feeble attempt by the sword and its user to try a sneak attack. Naturally, the unknown fighter knew where they were. How could he not, they were simply brimming with energy that they were slowing off unknowingly. Why are evil people so stupid? the man asked himself, sighing under his hood.
Suddenly, the duo appeared, striking from atop the building they had been thrown through and slashing the wielder's Master down towards the concealed warrior. As the blade fell towards the green cloaked warrior, a metal hand shot out from under the cloak and grabbed the sword. The hand armor the man wore stopped the blade in mid-swing, and with a slight jerk, tossed it and its Master into a nearby building and through the wall.
Slowly, Galan gripped Vaskalen tightly, slowly rising. Several splinters had lodged themselves in the warrior's back, along with the other wounds he had. Blood seeped from his wounds, and it seemed his consciousness began to fade. "YOU IDIOT! Don't you dare pass out!" the sword ordered its wielder, who could barely respond as blood dripped out his mouth. "Don't even think about it! This battle isn't done yet!" the Hellfire Sword ordered Galan, who merely nodded weakly.
"Give up," came the order from the cloaked man. "What's left of your wielder is barely capable of standing up, much less learning my weakness. You are a fool to think you've even got a chance of defeating me," the unknown warrior claimed, pointing his left, gauntlet armored hand at his foe. "So, why don't you just get out of here and save yourself some face."
Pain shot all throughout Galan’s body, every nerve aflame with it. The hooded warrior was indeed powerful beyond compare to anyone he faced before. It frustrated him so, to be thrown around like a rag doll and to not even draw blood on this man, is he could even be called one. There would be no way he could find a weakness before he passed out.
Already, darkness began to form near the edges of his peripheral vision. It would only be a matter of time until the loss of blood rendered him unconscious. What would master do with him then? Would it kill him, or worse? The swordsman did not want to find out anytime soon, fearing what the punishment for failure was.
This battle is soon to end, thought the Lord of Light as he stood upon his perch. It’s a shame, I was hoping for something enjoyable. Letting out a small sigh, he finished the rest of his thought aloud. “I guess I wasted my time. They are no threat in the least bit.” Many would assume that he was about to leave, however, they would be wrong. Despite his words, he remained on the bell tower.
Suddenly, a cluttering sound came from under a pile of rubble. Apparently, one villager still remained alive. The elderly man who lay under the rubble began to sob, seeing that the monster noticed him, sensing the end of his life. “Kill him!” Vaskalen ordered. Before the observer could stop him, Galan charged towards the man.
“No!” Cried the aged man as the youth charged. Not even the observer could save him as the cold blade of the Devils Sword rammed through his skull, killing him instantly. Successfully killing the very last member of the village, both sword and servant laughed at the man’s corpse. A few seconds after going to meet his maker, the body of the man began to glow a pale blue colour.
An orb slowly floated out of the deceased man’s mouth, a sight that enraged the observer. I hope it’s not doing what I think it is, thought William in anger. Sure enough, the small, glowing orb slowly went closer to the red jewel in the hilt of Vaskalen. Eventually, touching it and being consumed by the blood-red jewel. “Soluside!” William exclaimed in indignation.
The cloaked man watched with a small amount of interest as the sword wielder killed the last villager. Gee, between Umi Oni, Shinu, Nekatsuki, Sin, and now this guy, I don't know how the human race is going to ever survive on its own. Luckily for humanity, it has warriors that can stop these creatures. I got lucky, I found a nice weak one to pick off. That sword may talk tough, but with its user in this shape, the two are both outmatched. Time to end this, the concealed man told himself, bursting towards the Hellfire wielder.
The young swordsman rolled out of his way as the intruder thrust his fist towards him. The ground where the wielder once stood was shattered by the metal armor around the cloaked man's hand. The swordsman charged wildly, slashing at the incognito warrior with everything he had. The dark cloaked warrior moved his hand quickly, knocking away the evil blade every chance the hidden warrior had. Suddenly, the faceless warrior knocked away Vaskalen and kicked Galan back, causing the youthful swordsman to slide back.
No matter how fast the wielder was moving, he couldn't hide his exhaustion from this warrior that stood before him. The cloaked man didn't need to see physical signs of weakness to know when his foe was overwhelmed and nearing passing out. Not too much more work and the fighter would be out of the picture, but the green cloaked man wanted to have a little fun first. A smile cracked under his hood as he burst forward into a run, moving more like a demon then a human by the speed he moved at.
The cloaked man moved around the swordsman in a circle at a speed that made his movements untraceable to the poor warrior. His eyes moved frantically to read the oncoming movements, but before long, he knew that was impossible. Suddenly, from the high moving circle and into the attack, his fist rushing past the boy's face, leaving a small cut on the warrior's face. Almost as soon as the punch ended, the cloaked man was back in the circle, moving circles around his foe.
"I'm getting rather bored with you, but that doesn't mean I'm just going to let you walk away from here. If you expect to escape from this battle conscious, then you're sorely mistaken. When I get done, you'll be alive, but you won't be moving too well for a while," the concealed warrior stated, appearing behind the young swordsman and delivering a powerful kick to his face, causing him to slide back, holding his face and fall towards the ground. "You're pretty tough for a little boy," the unknown warrior told him.