What was once such grand paintings returned to rubble and concrete. What was once the chirps and howls of wind became silent. What was once a Ceremony, now became a funeral.
Bronx would jolt his body back up, touching every part of him as he could to see it was still intact, feeling if his head took a heavy blow. Relieved that the latter was not the case, the damages that lingered were still there, his fingers missing, part of his legs sticking out, but not to a severe degree. He was still alive, but barely. He saw what was before him, the body of the target he was assigned. He crawled his way towards him, checking his pulse, seeing if he was still breathing, if his eyes can still see.
Nothing.
He successfully took another life. A heavy heart weighed into him, as he lost a new friend in such horrid times. He'd raise his hand and closed Volvo's eyes, wiping any blood off of him that he attained when the headshot was made. He looked down to the ground in defeat, his fists balled up, detaching the gun and letting his other arm be properly free. He clasped his hands and waited in such silence, a prayer to ensure the Gentle Giant earned his chance to Heaven. As he prayed, however, a voice emerged. "Well... color me impressed! I never suspected it would be tea leaves all this time, but the tradition stuff should've been a tell-tale sign. Thought it was face value, in all honesty, what with the violins and decor having birds all over the place. Guess I need to improve my predictions a bit-"
BANG!!!
Immediately a shot fired, a brisk dodge away, half of the cloak torn off, exposing his left side. Bandages visible, wrapped around his head, arms, and hands. Standard explorer's equipment, complete with a heavy, tan shirt and a leather bomber jacket, complete with a fedora to mask away the insignia's hidden in such bandages. "Touched a nerve?" He'd ask, as he'd pull out his cane, Golden, a Snake's hood for its hilt. Bronx was not listening to a word he'd say, as he'd charge his magic onto the gun.
"CONTRACT MAGIC!!!!"
"Woah! Woah! Woah!" Immediately, he'd signal for the Medjed's to shoot on all sides, more spawning and surrounding him, blasting him down, forcing him to stop his Final Gambit and restrain himself. "Let's not get too hasty here... While it would help to see you burn that soul away, I am NOT being the target practice. Save it for someone else, won't you?"
"And WHY exactly!? I don't care if it's my life on the line, if it means I kill one of you Shadow Mages, its enough of an advantage on our end!"
The Explorer was quick to descend, letting the Medjed's pile up and go behind him, ready to take aim and fire if they tried anything. "Simply put, I want you to relay a message. Calibren's going to be invaded by our forces. We've got reports regarding both the children and the Descendants being here. All out, no mercy." Casually, as if he was speaking about the weather, yet such words aggravated the Sniper even more so.
"AN INVASION!? ARE YOU INSANE!?!"
"We ARE in a war, after all. Are invasions not on the table here? Then again, you'd probably would store yourselves that nifty little secondary style into your bullets before fighting anyway, so I understand why you were not as prepared as I was."
Before Bronx was able to get another word, something was etched in the paper. Stunted, he reluctantly grabbed it and checked, but began to smile as he'd see what was written.
"Khonum Opolis - 532 Years Old"
"May 12th - TBA"
"Book Magic. Paper Magic."
"Oh you messed up big time, introducing yourself here." He'd state, laughing to himself, reattaching his gun as he'd take aim and fired. "FOR ONCE, THE DEVIL AND I AGREE ON SOMETHING!!"
BANG!!
Immediately as the shot came, the bandages would detach and scatter, a barrier to swat the shot before it even connected, wrapping themselves around his head again. "Don't get ahead of yourself. Based on your words, I'm next, am I? I'll fight you later, when the group properly arrives and handles whatever army shenanigans your Elites are making. When we get our way, THEN I'll consider fighting you."
"Ohhhh no, no, no. Devil demands your head, I'm here to ensure you-"
BWAAAAH!!
Sliced across the chest by the Medjed's, his emotions getting the best of him, a reason as to why he was deemed effective, now defunct, as he'd cough blood and stumble onto the ground. "We will fight... Later. NOW, however, I need to keep an eye out. Tell the girl hiding in the dead man's shop to quit it, while you're at it. She's probably going to take your life first before even letting you have the chance. Salam, Sniper." With that, he'd leap away, escaping the battle unscathed. Koina's eyes widened as she was found out, yet with the body struggling to get up after such an injury, she can't help herself but try to finish the job, ensuring that the first Rank doesn't come back to bite them. One slash, a descent of Wyverns in ice and water, hosing down and freezing the Soldier away, leaving him for dead once again.
"One less problem on our end, at least. A Rank 1 too, while we're at it. I'd doubt he'd die from my style, but it was an effort. I just hope it's good enough to keep him away." She'd say to herself, unaware that the Sniper was already trying to break free from the ice, the secondary style triggering, letting him be free and already having plans to kill the man that intruded in the ceremony he was graciously blessed with.
The rage within the Sniper in Hell is unmatched, the same rage the Demons had themselves when attesting against God. He will find him again, he is sure of it.