Mhaieiyu

Arc 2, Chapter 25

Morning Siege: A Hexed Misery

The sword produced a great clang as it left the holy silver and bronze sheathe it had been crafted for; the blade an otherwordly steel so radiant that it reflected light a soft crystal blue. The sharpness of it came almost as spectacular as its colours, though it had seen some use since its last visit to the grindstone. Corvus waited in place for a time to strike, allowing his opponent to create an opening through their own attack, but none seemed to come. The two were unmoving until a bullet rang through behind Sagittar, which caused his teeth to clench and turn their way. The gust of wind that surrounded him had managed to stop most of the projectile’s energy, but still, the lead managed to embed itself into his thigh.

Despite the damage, his frown-turned-wince was passable at best, and he did not display any considerable amount of distress or pain. He just bemoaned to himself a bit, extending his palm towards the gunner just in time to blow any and all incoming ammo straight into the floor and the large glass pane to his left; the concentration of which made the presumably hardened and bullet-proof window burst into a myriad of tiny shards. The noise of the massive glass being destroyed sent several ear-sensitive Cryptids and some humans to reel and kneel, stunned. Sagittar too grimaced at the disturbance, though the shroud of violent turbulence he cloaked himself with helped muffle the unpleasantness of the crash. During a brief moment of inaction, and with a mesmerizing close of his fingers, Sagittar willed a floor panel to rise and smash against the first gunman’s skull. The fragments produced from the collision were immediately picked up by his mana, sharpened into daggers and shot loud as a rifle into half a dozen more victims; the act encouraging their panicked screams to rise.

With this act of violence accomplished, the perpetrator turned almost shamelessly towards the now open window frame, and took one sole step towards it, before he felt a disturbance in the air.

The Harbinger barely managed to turn his head before the sword befitting a divine sliced through the winds and was brought down upon Conquest’s neck. With less than a second to react, Sagittar’s eyes widened and his body leapt backwards with a forceful push of his own jets, which forced him to crash and roll aground. The negligible suffering that followed paled in comparison to that evaded, the blade banging against the concrete, dividing the carpet he had just stood on and splintering the stone beneath.

The angel who wielded this weapon, his wings unfurled and providing a certain element of menace, straightened his legs and turned to face Sagittar with not a drop of frustration, though his hand did hurt from the vibration. The skin around his straight face tensed and wrinkled; his complexion reading the words ‘I will kill you’.

The display wasn’t enough to stir any fear in the Harbinger, though he wasn’t so foolish as to lower his guard. “My sincere apologies,” he said, a hand on his chest. “In my self-defence, your presence slipped my mind.”

“You claim the man responsible isn’t here,” Corvus cut, his voice as cold as the metal he brandished.

“Regretfully for you, at least. Seeing your mind so corrupted is quite saddening. Please, spare me the laborious effort of having to forget your misfortuned visage,” a monotonous voice responded, dripping with an empathy that felt feigned or patronising.

“Give me their name before I slay you.”

“Judging by the sweat on your brow, I don’t think I would be stepping out of line to say that attack cost you. Isn’t it a bit much to assume you can kill me here?”

Corvus said nothing, allowing seconds of tense air to pass.

Slowly, a stinging, then burning feeling started to pulsate in Sagittar’s nerves. A warm liquid fell on his attire. Surprised, he dabbed his fingers in the liquid and brought it to his sight, confirming the especially dark red substance to be his blood. It was only then he realised that half his ear had been severed and a portion of his shoulder had been lacerated.

“I see…” was the only conclusion the Crimsoneer could come up with. “Your efforts aren’t wasted on me, Celestial. Myldew's duties never seem to end."

Corvus raised his sword's tip the Crimson's way. "Myldew, that traitorous soul, will meet the same death the worshippers she has aligned with adamantly deem sacred. I'll be sure to allow her to share in the feeling of this blade with you."

"But now, you have lost your surprising element. With my watchful eye on you, can you be certain of your victory?”

“I’m certain of nothing,” Corvus shook his head saying this. “The simple truth is, I have lost the last of that which gives me purpose to live. If, in doing this, you are to defeat me, then I will accept it wholeheartedly.”

“You will accept death? Aren't you defying your own words?" Sagittar almost smiled. Irony against the Celestial. "And you have lost…? Who were you trying to ward, exactly? The Guardian lives, does he not?”

“I have nothing left to discuss with you. Kill or be killed, Devil.” With this, Corvus brought his body back, angled himself forward and spread his wings wide. With one great leap, he propelled toward the Harbinger with complete disregard for his own fate. This time, when the Celestial sword came close, a jet came in sideways to force the edge to swing at a downward angle and clatter against the floor. He withdrew briefly, springing himself high and dashing around the man with his wings faster than most could see. With each opening he took advantage of, the winds would force his weapon away from flesh, at times robbing it from his hands. His primary ability stopped this from becoming an issue; most other swordsmen would die trying to retrieve their weapons from the floor when it came to this famed leader of monsters.

Still, even with his absurd speed and precision, his times of genuine chance would only come to light at the expense of his teammates, who died in a fruitless spray and pray that landed them with all the wrong kind of attention from the killer. The brief window would allow Corvus to come in closer with a slash, but now that Sagittar was aware of his movements and intent, this too became inefficient to the point he only came close enough to feel his exhaled breaths.

Sagittar was right. All this came at great expense of Corvus’ stamina, though he seemed relentless in his assault. Spotting a moment of weakness in the angel, Sagittar allowed him to come closer than before, granting him false hope while also forcing him to throw himself forward for a decisive strike, only to rumble the earth beneath his feet and spring from the floor a snake-like wall of stone that smashed into Corvus’ jaw; the recoil of his wings only adding to injury as he crashed some distance ahead like a stunned bird.

Conquest’s efforts seemed uncontested in this hopeless battle. Corvus, bloodied around his jaw, suffered from a concussion that throbbed his head, and the rest of the pitiably matched shooters only brought about their own demise through gunfire.

It was now the melee team’s turn. The Mynotaurs and Wylven that had finally finished gearing up before arriving at the scene of conflict drew their heavy weapons confidently, the bulls especially brazen as they often would be, and among them stood Norman himself; his weapon of choice a sizeable, two-handed battleaxe.

“Captain Major!” they chanted in their deepened voices, making a collective thud as they bashed their pummels into the floor. From behind this great force came the quaking footsteps of another Mynotaur; one with three arms, though he was entitled to four. The reason for his tardiness had to do with a stubborn shoulder guard. Irony against the Crimsoneer.

“Aye, I’m here.” Bruttus, Fifth Brigadier made himself known with a thump against his chest.

“How very dramatic of you to come at a time like this. While I recognise your inspiring reason for being here, I ask that you let me leave your property in peace,” Sagittar pleaded half-assedly, carrying such a morose tone to his sayings that he could hardly be considered awake.

“That’s cute, but I’ve got a nagging need to put a stop to yar miserable, black heart if ya don’t mind. I’ll ask once, how did you get into this place unnoticed?” Bruttus demanded, the impatient grumbles of his rough n’ tough men stirring around him.

The unveiled Manifestation sighed. “It seems peace never is an option in this ill world. God, you humble me with your unwavering righteousness.” With an idle finger, he gestured towards the Celestial, who lifted himself up on wobbling arms. “By his welcome.”

“What in the…” Bruttus shot Corvus a glare, keeping his head from pulling too far from Sagittar’s direction, lest he decides to strike. “Damn it, ‘C’...” he grumbled, “Always so goddamned credulous.”

Sagittar put two hands up halfway, the gesture hard to see through the miniature hurricane that protected him. “I wish of you all a chance for mercy. I only desire to soon leave.”

The great big bull made his muscles bulge with a smirk. “Tough. Our wish is pretty different, ain’t it, my soldiers?”

At their leader’s beckon, the forty beasts and Gygans roared a mighty hoorah, stomping their weapons once more. It was enough to make a grown man quiver.

"As I suspected, it's truly hopeless." Sagittar closed his eyes. The battle would soon once again begin.

“Wait,” another gruff voice said, bringing the brimming excitement to a pause. “If ya don’t wanna linger, what’re ya doin’ here, then?”

“He’s lookin’ for the Guardian, Norman. That’s Sagittar; I’ve seen his face before,” Bruttus explained, seeing that the Crimson wouldn’t begin his assault until further provoked, or otherwise. “And he isn’t here right now.”

Melancholy’s glum frown curved up briefly. “I am so honoured to be still in your memories, laborious beast.”

“Aye, wish I could forget ya, franks.”

“Drop the racism, aye?” Norman shouted from his corner.

“What are you people doing, wasting time with pointless prattle,” Corvus said in a raised voice, still despondent yet functional, like a robot. From his head and lips oozed a golden plasma that replaced the colour of blood. “Strike him and don’t cease until he draws breaths no longer."

“Yeah, well, guess there’s no time for plannin’." The Fifth Brigadier took his spears firmly by his two upper hands.

Conquest exhaled, intensifying the nature of his spells. "How utterly violent. Very well. I, Harbinger of Conquest, promiser of bountiful land taken from Sin——"

"Victus, shit, shut up!" Bruttus shouted with the backup of his comrades, lifting arms, literally, and charging the single enemy with a roar. Soon after they did, the few gunmen still disposed, as well as the two dozen new ones that joined the fray, opened fire to maximise the concentrated, unified force, giving their all to overwhelm their opponent.

Bruttus’ confident and arrogant smirk was different from that of his allies, was what Sagittar noted before the plunge. Truth be told, he knew better than most in this destroyed section of the halls—which had begun to be sealed on both ends—of how dangerous this man really was. He had lost count of how many people he watched fight and die by his doing, and while he came close enough to spar with him once or twice, Bruttus never grazed anything akin to victory. Even still, he had to buy time before this maniac massacred everyone before they evacuated to safety; if they shared the same fate as the Zwaarsts, the long reign of the Syndicate would surely end.

In those long, painful seconds stampeding towards his target, he thought of Sagittar’s suggestion. He just wanted to leave. An unlikely claim; he hoped he wouldn’t regret this decision.

“I will have to agree with Vermillion,” Sagittar lamented after he sent the first spray of bullets off their course with a squall that knocked over several Wylven among the camaraderie. “This is really, truly rude.”

The axes, hammers and greatswords reached high and dropped down with an impressive wallop, but all was for nought as they too were forced down prematurely by the wind, which, for a glimpse alone, vanished long enough to get a clear sight of the cultist. Behind the enveloping blur had stood a tall man in a thick trenchcoat with deep shades of red, black and a blue outline with a long-standing collar that hugged his neck at the base and veered outside of it at the top; his limply hanging arms and slightly squatted position showing just how miserable he truly was. His hands had long, slender and old fingers; his cared-for black-golden hair was chest-long and silky with an inward curve at its extremes; his face had mildly toned yet still sickly skin that lacked any tension at all if not for a downer’s droop, giving him the appearance of a gentleman cursed with unending misfortune who had come to embrace his tragic fate. A flagrant display of a Sin that saw the world and his own flesh and blood as the truest pits of upset. A hexed misery. And with it all, his most distinct feature remained in his eyes. While the left orb bore a simple white sclera and a black, glassy pupil, his right eye had instead of a pupil a small red shape. A reversed pyramid with a smoothed base and a fine point.

And thus, in his self-built agony, he put two fingers forward and put an end to such a charade. Before the weapons could raise or fire again, the floor—the earth—split in two, then four, then eight, like veins or the branches of a tree. In the presence of this rumbling, the entire portion of the building shook and trembled, forcing all but Sagittar to drop on their backs and knees — multiple fell down the sinkholes that formed under their feet with a horrified yell into the river below, which dragged any who fell victim to its torrential waters to plummet from the massive waterfall’s pinnacle to certain death; assuming the many pillars they struck on the way didn’t finish the job. When those who remained above managed to put their feet under, they were assailed with a great shower of crumbled fragments that was only interrupted when the Celestial intervened, drawing Sagittar’s attention away from the crowd and to the Lieutenant. The angel came close once more, this time moving with the momentum of his sword as it was, once again, blown off course. The act did almost catch Sagittar by surprise, but this was far from the first time he’d seen this. What he didn’t expect was for the sword to be lobbed suddenly in a completely different direction: the ceiling. The crumbling stone snake that shot up to meet Corvus’ jaw simply flew up and dropped down as dirt as the victim had narrowly escaped, clinging to the ceiling despite his injuries.

Conquest raised his eyes and stared up at him. “What are you doing? Don’t tell me I’ll be forced to carry the fight to your level. I could never keep up,” he said. Even his humility felt despondent.

“I’m certain that’s the case, but you would wreak havoc. That’s not convenient for me.” Corvus withdrew his sword from the stony surface and let himself fall halfway before allowing his wings to unfurl and keep him in place with a glorious yet frightful appearance; his being belonging to the heavens, his intentions, hell. “Conquest, answer me. The one responsible for her demise was your pupil. Do you refer to the escapee?”

“So you were made aware of him beforehand. How dreadful. You should know him by Famine, now,” the Crimson cultist admitted much too easily, letting his arms drop by his sides again.

“I demand you, pagan, tell me where Famine is.”

“I told you already, didn’t I? You can pin the blame on myself. Strike me as your Goddess sees fit.”

The Celestial narrowed his equally despondent eyes, his sword ready and down by his leg. “Do not offer your life as if your death wasn’t already inevitable. Your crimes against Her Will are beyond salvation.”

Sagittar either feigned or took genuine damage from those words, his head falling an inch. “I see. How terribly fate leads.”

“Your pity means nothing. Now tell me!” Corvus exclaimed in a proud shout. Even mismatched in power, he would spare no shame in displaying the authority of himself and his religion.

“He is but a boy.”

“A boy who kills! Erica was…!” Corvus resigned those words before they slipped from his mouth, displaying more emotion than he wanted to. He took a deep breath, relaxed his body, and raised his sword high for all to see. “Miss Erica, Skyborn bless her, was a noble halberdier worthy of respect. Though mischievous, she was kind; sinless. She did not, under any circumstance, deserve such despicable destruction and desecration! And so, if you foolishly believe you can burden with the Sins of your pupil and find respite for he, lay your neck down and accept decapitation. I promise you, this is your only chance at dignity.”

Sagittar’s frown fell worse, and all he had to say in turn was, “Unfortunate.”

Corvus’ teeth clenched together and shuddered in anger, and lo, the broadsword lowered and reached backwards, and then Corvus shot himself towards Conquest at blinding speeds; able to slice through even metal if his sword willed it. He came so unbelievably close, too, before something struck back against his thrust. It wasn’t speeding air, nor was it hard stone. It too was metal. A large spark jutted out the blade as it collided with something, and the momentum, coupled with the brutish force of the impact, made a cracking noise that followed after the heavenly steel broke in two near the base, leaving Corvus utterly speechless as his weapon was disabled with a single parry.

With his whole body focused on the pitiable bit of iron stuck on his now far less imposing handle, he could barely exhale a bemused breath before a haymaker landed right on his cheek, sending him well on his course to roll towards one of the many large holes punched into the floor, stopped only as a Mynotaur caught him by the wing.

“Holy Victus…” Bruttus said after roughing the angel back up. The damage done in the minute that transpired was well beyond what could be expected from any one-on-one. Well over half the melee team and from door to door, this segment of the halls had been carpet-bombed, and the sun was far from the horizon yet. The bull’s neck felt solid like dry concrete when he turned even a smidge to watch Corvus’ still perplexed expression, ignoring the bulbous swell on his cheek. So much of his blade had been broken off that it wouldn’t even stay in the sheathe anymore, and so, the handle was regretfully discarded to the tilted floor, which allowed it to roll off and sink into the gushing waters below.

To their abstract horror, Sagittar had been given company. Not of the living, breathing sort, but still a resourceful ally nonetheless. Near the Harbinger’s being, but nowhere close to his grasp, floated a large, double-sided, double-ended scythe so long, wide and flat that it could even be used as a shield. Laughably, from the bottom end jutted a handle much too small to ever properly wield such a beast of a weapon, and at the top protruded a simple impaler. The whole of the metal was bigger than a Gygant’s torso, and the four points of the quadruple sickle were sharp enough to render one’s head forever divorced from their shoulders.

The sight of it was enough to make the veterans gag in discomfort. The number of lives they had seen taken by this implement, nicknamed ‘Red Scourge’ by those who had been made to face it, was uncountable and headache-inducing to think about. Red Scourge hovered about, circling Sagittar’s still frame with an occasional hypnotising spin which reverbed a deep, metallic hum.

Even with nothing in his hands to fight with, Corvus was not one to allow death so easily. He took a step forward but was made to stop by a strong hand holding him back. Bruttus put his knee forward, seeing no need to order his petrified soldiers about any further; their minds already set on survival.

“Harbinger of Conquest,” the Brigadier called, a crack in his waning voice. “You just wanna leave, right? Turn around and go.”

Corvus snapped his hands on the Mynotaur’s arms and protested, but he was quickly silenced with his continued speech.

“The Guardian ain’t here. Ya’re wasting your time.”

The conversation became stale quick as Sagittar focused on seeing the ruined room before responding. The tension became tight as no words were exchanged for a time. “If that’s how you feel, why force me to vulgarise your home in self-defence? I don’t see how that makes any sense. After all, if I’m not mistaken, you’re quite an old-timer in this place, aren’t you?” Sagittar said with disdain, looking as if he struggled merely to lift an accusatory arm with how it barely abducted. “I can see and comprehend Corvus’ anger. His heart must still be bleeding. For this, Celestial, I beg for your understanding and forgiveness. But you? To cast your men to hell fruitlessly is such a selfish thing…”

“Weird you’re the likes to say it, admirin’ death an’ all,” the smaller yet still imposing survivor, Norman, snorted and said.

“I think your perception of our religion is askew,” Conquest replied simply.

“Damn you, Sagittar.” Corvus slipped his venom.

He lowered his head surprisingly in submission. “I know. I’m sorry.” That brief window was enough encouragement for a pretending corpse to rise from the rubble and strike. Though his effort did seem worthy of praise, all that followed was an unceremonious parry and bisection.

“You truly are,” Corvus muttered between his teeth, “an irredeemable monster.”

“I have long resigned myself to this lamentable role. But please, don’t follow in my footsteps. Whose blood dries on your fingertips?”

“Silence, wretch!”

“Just fuckin’ leave!” Bruttus shouted, definitively calming the Celestial with a mighty chop behind the head.

“I promise to in little time, but I’m sure you won’t be happy to know that I’m aware of the Guardian’s soon arrival. I swear by name that I will be gone once he is subjugated.”

“He waits for just one friend to sprint off and find happiness otherwhere? Now that, that is a simply undeterred, gratuitous display of Greed…!”

From behind Sagittar, this slurred voice came. And by the time he turned around, all those he had mercilessly attacked smiled and cheered. Much to, finally, the sole Crimsoneer’s horror, the source of the said voice was one of the great abstractness belonging to the Magician. There, floating behind the centre of the shattered, fifteen-foot window frame, the madman idled, allowing his almost dress-like gown to flutter and shake in the wind. Putting two fingers on his tophat, he dropped his chest forward midair and extended his other arm outward in an absurd courteous gesture.

“You… You fuckers!” Sagittar said, breaking free from his chains of sapping sadness for a moment. “You brought Jack…?!”

“Isosceles!” the Magician corrected with a voice like a megaphone, clapping his hands together excitedly. “And please, for a villainous leader so diligently formal in speak, you mustn’t, mustn’t reduce thyself so idly to such hostile vocabulary——!”

“Keep those incessant lips of yours glued, Maddened One! You would just step on my ability and appear here, you anomalous bastard?!”

The Mynotaur Brig chuckled, bringing Norman in for a compatriot’s shoulder hug. “Guess ya stuck around too long, eh?”

“Jack!” Corvus exclaimed, feeling mixed at his presence.

“It’s Isosceles, Twins curse you!”

In the middle of this banter, a flurry of wind picked up once more, building and concentrating like a tornado around Sagittar’s form. Throwing his arm forward with far more vigour and pressure than before, a multitude of rock spirals projected from the ground outside, followed by the spinning scythe for good measure. Isosceles jumped in place at the sudden onslaught and flew horizontally with no wings to speak of, nor any aerodynamic laws abided, but even this erratic, unnatural movement was insufficient to evade the full assault, and so, when struck by wind and sickle, Isosceles’ body simply vanished instead of being severed; leaving behind his coat and hat.

When the dust settled, the fabric slid away and glided down between Corvus and the bulls and Sagittar himself, keeping them divided and safe from one another. The Magician, unharmed, popped back into existence from the reigns of his clothes. A long, excited smile on his face.

Even witnessing Sagittar’s pure, hellbent anger, Isosceles opened his arms wide and shouted, “And of course, even if curtains might and did close, the show will always start again! May all come to blows, once, twice, thrice more!”

“FALL FLAT AND CEASE, MADMAN!” Sagittar yelled, casting his all upon him.

“The same to you, woman killer,” Corvus seethed, taking flight with a leap; Bruttus’ spear stolen in his hands.