Raphael swung his blood sword, unleashing a wave of crimson light that glided swiftly through the air. Vanessa quickly dodged the attack, shooting forward with frightening speed.
She threw her hand out, hardened claws clanging against the crimson blade repeatedly. Their clashes were constant, repetative, tainting the shadowy terrain with a surging increase in swirling flames and agonizing screams.
All across, civilians lost their lives at a dreadful pace, many incapable of escaping the cataclysmic throes of searing pain. It was an insidious cleanse, a final, exoberant release from the callous clutches of eternal suffering and stagnation.
Still, many wished, ran, and kicked their way past weaker folks. They fought against all odds to remain sentient, rushing across acrid smoke and crackling flames in search of illusive sanctuary. But still, no matter what they did, no matter how far the ran, they were never quick enough.
They were weak, that was the irrevocable truth. And so, the only logical option was to flee. But then, only the luckiest amongst the bunch actually managed to escape the voracious clash.
Raphael's movements grew sharper as he added more power behind his attacks. Observing his opponent's movements, it was clear she had done the same. So far, they remained equal, neither opponent capable of overpowering the other.
As the fight progressed, both fighters landed severe slashes and cuts upon each other. A large swing torn through Raphael's chest, drawing out massive amounts of blood. He was far too focused on the fight to perform blood weave, sealing the gaping wound shut with the heat of his crimson energy.
Vanessa appearance wasn't any less damaged. A series of sword slashes stretched across her figure, gliding through her wings and back. Fortunately, none of his sword attacks had managed to pierced through her tough skin, allowing her to retain her ability of flight.
Their battle had dragged on for a considerable amount of time, both drawing ragged breaths as they persisted. From what the others could observe, both seemed to be arriving at their limits, with no clear winner still in sight.
Drained, Raphael struggled to push past the exhaustion, heavy eyes guiding him as he thrust his sword forward, hoping to stab through Vanessa's chest. Still, she drew back, avoiding the jab as she lunged forward to pierce his chest. Raphael swiftly raised his sword up to block the attack, pouring all his strength as he pushed her back.
He clenched his jaw tightly, veins bulging fiercely through his neck and forehead. His muscles burned furiously, an enraged howl filling the desecrated terrain as he pushed her back further still.
He swiftly retracted his sword, their persisted clash resuming right after. Both were heavily spent, their bodies desparately yearning for reprieve, yet, they fought, unwilling to fall before their opponent.
A wide grin appeared on Vanessa's face, her eyes gleaming with intensity as she spoke:
"... My, what a formidable opponent. It's no wonder he told me to take you people seriously," her voice was heavy, pushed down by the crushing weight of exhaustion. In the midst of her gasping words, Raphael saw an opening and struck her across the chest, the crimson blade slicing deeply through hardened flesh.
"What was your first instinct? To treat us like insects?" He retorted, his vision slipping, rapidly succumbing to the severity of his fatigue. Moments later, his body became limp, dropping to the floor with a resounding thud. All the spiralling lights, audible clamor, and black, acrid smoke, vanished, replaced by boundless darkness.
***********
Soon enough, the darkness cleared, replaced by the familiar scent of black smoke and ash. A cacophony of voices drew close to his hearing, eyes slowly fluttering open as they took notice of his surroundings.
"I… was out?" He silently muttered, agony spreading all across his body. Slowly, he tried moving his limbs, however, his efforts were met with null results. The pain was simply too much to bear, and on top of that, he barely had any blood magic left to augment his battered state.
'Hah… just like old times…'
As time went on, his senses patiently grew sharper. He could now make out the noise of steel reverberating all across. His eyes painfully scanned the environment, observing a number of blurred figures rushing everywhere. Soon enough, those hazy outlines assumed sturdier forms, his strained eyes narrowing as they recognized the stalwart group.
A platoon of armoured troops traversed the decerated plains, their bodies ensnared within an ever-changing tapestry of crimson energy. All across, they battled fiercely against the tribe of Shadows, a luminescent mixture of red and purple brightening the shadowy space.
Their numbers rivalled the copious presence of the Shadow sect, giving Darion and Jay the chance to draw their brother away from the jaws of death. Arriving at a considerable distance from the locus of battle, both brothers shared worrisome glances as the observed the scope of it all.
A caravan of harrowing thoughts blazed through their perplexed minds, Raphael's groans snapping them out from their daze as they shifted their attention towards him. His severe lacerations made them shudder, Darion cautiously crouching down to comfort his brother.
He reached out a shady hand, a siege of past memories flashing through his eyes all at once as his fingers touched Raphael's wounds. The latter let out an aggravated snarl, eyes squinted as he bore through the pain.
Darion's eyes softened as he slowly applied more pressure, eyes watering as he said:
"I'm sorry that you have to go through all this pain, brother. Let me heal your wounds," and with that, he channelled his blood magic, activating the blood weave skill as he applied his abilities to heal the wounds marring Raphael's body. The process felt soothing, robbing him of his agony at a wondrous pace. It wasn't long till all his wounds were sealed, energy finally returned to his body as he pushed himself back up to his feet.
His eyes remained focused on the armoured men battling against the invaders. Though they were now away from where it began, the large-scale altercation was still taking place all around them. It was only a miracle the enemy hadn't swooped in and dealth with them already.
But then, whenever it was about to happen, some of the soldiers intervened, drawing their attention away. Still, none of them knew why this was the case. From what they knew, the emperor didn't care about what became of the less fortunate. All he cared about were his immediate riches, and his own family. Everything else was simply inconsequential.
Things had been that way for an insufferably long time. So now, seeing the Moonlight Army fighting against this threat, they simply didn't know how to feel.
'How odd,' Raphael thought, swiftly rushing away from the area right after. His brothers did the same, trailing behind him.
*******
In their humble abode, father and son heared the pandemonium possessing their fellow townspeople. In response to the ensuing panic, Kennedy cautioned his son to remain calm, silent, and pray for the Supreme Sovereign to intervene, just like he had done back then on the outskirts. The haughty youngster couldn't argue against his father, especially since nothing he said right now would change anything.
He remembered how things went back then; all his bold words, hollow provado—it all came crumbling down when faced with real, bone-chilling danger. And so, he bit his tongue, slowly nodded his head, and prayed. Ezeikel wasn't a very religious person to begin with, but he still did his best. Words formed in his mind, which quickly morphed into long, elaborate sentences. Tears gushed from his eyes as he poured his heart out, uncertain of their faith at another tribulating moment.
Seeing his son's zeal, Kennedy smiled, closed his eyes, and joined in prayer. Minutes past, slowly stretching into hours. Still, the screams remained. The acrid odour of burning wood lingered. And the nerve-rattling clangs of hardened materials persisted.
Their distasteful town, which was once a sanctuary for the Abyssal Gang, had turned into a morbid stage of incessant bloodshed right under their noses. And now, no one knew when the conflict would cease.
A loud bang caused the whole building to shudder, snapping them out from their prayers. Ezeikel threw a terrified glance at his father, eyes left agape. A profound network of veins snaked towards his pupil, almost pulsing in synchrony with his reverberating heart.
"Father…" his voice went dry, unable to speak any further. Before he could gather himself, something tore through their living space, taking Kennedy with him as another hole formed on the other side of the enclosure.
Ezeikel was left there, alone and motionless.
Seconds trickled by, his mind gradually coming to terms with what had just happened. And then, his heart rate quickened once more, each beat threatening to rip his chest wide open as hypertense eyes trailed the destruction left by the crash.
First, they observed the whole created at the front entrance, tracing the destruction that followed suit that lead to the other side of the miniscule living space. He raised a quaking hand, pressed it against his chest, and gritted his teeth.
His tears amplified, the thorns of sorrow piercing deeper into his soul as he fell to his knees. He bend down, raised both hands in the air, and brought them down in a barrage of grevious blows. Physical pain became insignificant in the midst of emotional seizures, a series of bruises, cuts, and trickling blood morphing his skeletal arms.