167 The Trump Card
He didn’t even have time to smile at having this trusted to him, wasting no time as he immediately sprinted forward.
As he crossed the street, sprinting with his utmost towards the gargantuan centipede, in which the capturer of Eunji rode, the Gumiho extended one of its large tails, sweeping it towards him in an attempt to stop him.
Though it came towards him with an unavoidable size, he kept his gaze forward, entrusting this to his comrades.
As he had believed, the tail was stopped by a piercing flash that came from the swift, black-haired young leader.
“Go!” Ma-Ri shouted, repelling the tail as the group continued their battle against the fox.
He nodded, picking up enough speed to conjure a howling wind around himself while his frizzy, vermilion locks were brushed in the fierce wind.
The entire time, he continued to enhance his sense of sight, seeing through the obscuring darkness as he raced down the block, jumping atop the tail of the crimson centipede as it crawled over the many buildings in the night-swallowed city.
…I can do this. Right now, whether I can or not doesn’t even matter…I’m the only one who can. I have to, he thought.
In a pragmatic, logical sense, losing Eunji was the worst case scenario of this horrible night: somebody able to use such wonderful healing magic was the difference between life and death in many situations.
However, that pragmatic thought was secondary to the mixture of rage and desperation that swirled inside of him, as all he thought was: “I’m not losing anybody else. I’m not losing Eunji, too.”
As he sprinted up the length of the massive centipede, it was a marathon in itself around the bumpy exoskeleton of the titanus creature.
After running along its moving form for a bit, he saw it, near the forefront of the city-stretching insectoid, Baek-Hyeon stood, binding the hazel-haired girl with a spell-made rope of sorts as she was kept by his feet.
The moment he brought his boot down, readying his daggers at his sides, the traitorous, gray-uniformed man looked back at him with uncaring, golden eyes as his snow-white, lengthy locks blew in the passing wind.
“Jeong-Hui. I thought you of all people would be reluctant to throw your life away,” Baek-Hyeon said, “…Yet, you’ve chosen to pursue a suicide mission.”
“–“
He didn’t even try talking, instead keeping his blades held as he yelled out an incantation from the get-go, “Spirit Burst!”
The mystical words unleashed a brief, azure light around him.
[Spirit Fully Restored | 3600/3600]
It was a new development thanks to his Undying Proficiency, though it wasn’t without its caveats.
Once-a-day; the cooldown of this spell is an entire day. Not only that, but…He thought.
[Spirit: -10]
[Spirit: -10]
“Spirit Burst” gives me fleeting spirit. It’s a full restore, but it drops rapidly, he thought.
Baek-Hyeon faced him, not moving a step as he looked on, unworried without having drawn his sword.
“What’re you hoping to accomplish here? Perhaps if it was Dae-Mon or Ma-Ri, something could happen. But, it’s just you…feeble little Jeong-Hui,” Baek-Hyeon said.
Standing there atop the moving, colossal centipede’s back, facing that pale man while the one he sought to save was bound from a distance–memories spurred in his mind.
–
[Vile Memories]
“Cah-In…! Let her go!”
His pleas were ignored as he fought against the holds of the chains, being suspended in midair as he was forced to be a part of the spectators.
“Just take me–! You don’t need both, right?!…Just…let it be me…!”
This time, his weak pleas seemed to meet the pale man’s ears as he looked back at him, holding an idle, but almost damning expression as shadows crept over his face.
“…How noble you are, sinner. However, you have not listened to a single word I’ve spoken, have you?” Cah-In addressed him quietly, “This is not a game chosen by whim; this is a mission–one of which you are a key piece to. By feasting on one so delectable, filled with sin, battered in sorrow, and marinated in despair, Barbas’ power will grow. As he grows, he will fully incarnate–and once that is done, his legions will birth from the soil of this decaying world. And when his legions ravage this crumbling world of sinners, the princes, dukes, and kings of Hell will come as well. Soon after, humanity will bathe in the pits of the underworld, while Heaven remains open only to us, the diligent envoys of God.”
Finishing his words, Cah-In waved his bony finger once more, causing the black, unsavory chains to hold his tongue as the maddened man returned his sights to the horrific event.
Unable to do a single thing, he did the one thing he could: close his eyes as tears crept through his tightly-shut blinds, still being forced to listen.
The sounds of the beast’s heavy breaths exuded, and following were the noises of the girl’s struggles against the altar in some vain attempt to break from her bindings–however, with a stomach-churning squelch that filled his own eyes like an orchestra of sorrow, all faint hope was lost.
The moment it met his ears; blood profusely falling to the ground like a dreadful downpour, the crunching of bones, and tearing of flesh–he struggled and fought against his bindings, screaming out though muffled. ρꪖꪕᦔꪖꪕꪫꪣꫀꪶ
It was all in vain.
He knew he couldn’t do a single thing, yet the mixture of sorrow and rage provoked him to wrestle against the chains, unmoving as he could begin to hear the spectating cultists clap.
For him, it felt as time was halting to a crawl, allowing the wave of negative emotions to flood through his body, washing over any hope he had with utter despair as his body fell limp.
He didn’t want to believe it; over and over, and over, and over, and over, and over–he wished for this all just to be a nightmare.
Clenching his eyes tightly, he yearned for nothing more to wake up in a cold sweat in his bed, finding his companions smiling beside him.
“Marvelous! Barbas has fed!” Cah-In announced, overjoyed.
–But, that was impossible.
Kamou…Kamou…Kamou…please…why…He thought.
–
The cold touch of those black chains from that day could still be felt, their tight grip forcing him to watch helplessly as the silver-haired girl was consumed by the grotesque evil, all while the cultists clapped and watched in awe.
It was a scene that he would not repeat. A scene of dread he would not allow to transpire once again; that conviction led him to stand even against the insurmountable foe in front of him.
He kept his eyes forward, stepping in the same direction he watched as he tightened his fingers around the cold handles of his daggers.
“I’ll take her back,” he said.
“I’d like to see you try. I mean it–amuse me,” Baek-Hyeon challenged him, holding his hands against his sides without drawing his weapon.
Again, such a sight drew memories from his mind as the physique of the traitor was all but the same of the Destroying Angel.
–
[Vile Memories]
To his surprise, Radueriel didn’t attack, instead holding his arms out before placing his knuckles against his sides, flexing his body as his toned muscles stiffened.
“…?”
“I like to think I’m a generous guy, you know? For surviving that hit and getting back up to your feet, I’ll give you a reward,” Radueriel smiled wide, though it was devoid of benevolence and only wickedness, “One minute. I’ll give you one minute to give me everything you’ve got!”
…Huh? He thought.
It was a perplexing move taken as he looked around to see if any of his comrades were getting up, but they all were laid out, unconscious by the angel in the desecrated streets of the once luxurious city square.
“Your time starts now!” Radueriel proclaimed, standing in front of him, completely still with his hands against his sides.
Though he was left confused and only operating on sparse strength, he forced himself to act, taking advantage of this one opportunity given to him.
–
Remembering such a thing, it only bolstered his desire to stand against the one who thought he could do nothing, who thought he was powerless.
“What can you possibly do?”
Baek-Hyeon asked as such, not moving an inch while the vermilion-haired young man quietly approached.
He looked past the arrogant traitor as the short sleeves of his black shirt swayed in the whistling winds, looking straight at the young woman who laid on the vast back of the centipede in tears, who could only make muffled sounds through the radiant bindings.
“It’s okay, Eunji,” he reassured her with a smile, “I’m here.”
Though he smiled, his emerald eyes only held utter, refined killing intent as they looked back at Baek-Hyeon, momentarily sending one feeling through the angel-empowered man:
“Death.”
It was a promise made from the curly-haired young man to the towering, snow-haired possessor of the Assimilation System; a threat made with only an exchange of glances.
By the time Baek-Hyeon decided to draw his sword, twitching his fingers by the sheathed weapon, he already made his move–
Imagine it; a domain in which you’re king. A summit in which is unreachable by any except yourself. Cold and alone, yet to you, it’s warmth. Open the gates within your soul, part the pores of your body, resonate with the beating of your heart, and…release it, he thought.
Not by a swing of his daggers, nor by a hasty step, but by a wave of his hand, he chanted:
“Esoteric Domain: Devil Slaying Hour.”