Kios exhaled through his mouth.
Not a great time. I'm also not in a great capacity to fight, and I seriously doubt Mammon will help me.
The priest looked at them solemnly.
"Kill them," he uttered.
Immediately, the Knights Templar surrounded them and closed in, weapons and shields raised.
"Religion of love and peace…" Kios scoffed.
Bang!Bang!Bang!
Alastor fired three times at the Templar closing in on him.
Those bullets can't possibly get through that thick armor of theirs…
Yet they did—impossibly. The three Templar knights shook violently and fell to the ground, their armor clanging against the stone.
Kios's eyes widened slightly. There's no blood coming out…
Unfortunately, the Templars surrounding Kios closed in—swords raised, spears poised to thrust, and morning stars swinging overhead.
Kios backed away; the Templars followed. He smiled weakly. "I don't like hot weather, do you?"
"Arvum, solis," Kios muttered, gripping his Ruvian dagger with much difficulty and hurling it at them.
Mid-air, the dagger glowed an indiscernible white. Kios felt his throat go dry. He ducked and shielded himself with his cloak.
The Templars raised their shields; the dagger bounced off slightly—
Then it erupted.
The area flashed blinding white, forcing everyone to avert their gaze. They heard the screams of men being incinerated. By the time the light faded and the dagger clattered to the ground—
The six men who had closed in on Kios had vanished, their armor now bubbling.
"Blasphemer. He dares to use light itself against us? Us who are blessed by Light?" the priest growled.
Kios, who had ducked, slowly stood and rushed to retrieve his dagger—now bearing a noticeable crack on its side. The remaining Templars, momentarily stunned, pounced on Kios with renewed vigor.
A bloodlust…
Kios leapt back, turned, and began to run.
If my hands were healed, I'd easily be able to beat all of them. But they're not healed, so I shall run.
Alastor was running too, turning back occasionally to shoot at the Templars. The bullets from his seemingly normal revolver bypassed the armor, causing the knights to seize up and shake violently.
He heard the heavy footsteps and clanking steel behind him. Then he heard the priest, clad in a white alb, chant in a language foreign to his ears:
"O Elyana Lúmir, vetha thulien varion non talas veyth daemira."
The priest's voice changed—the words became sharper, more powerful. The air itself seemed to grow still, as if listening.
A translucent light-blue wall suddenly appeared in front of Kios. It radiated a familiar aura—comforting, almost.
Yet Kios knew he could not pass this wall of divinity. He turned to Alastor, who was scowling deeply.
The Templars quickly caught up, the priest walking calmly behind them.
Well, there are only ten of them left…Fool. You cannot even kill one in your current state.
He glanced at Alastor, whose revolver was now lowered.
"Ran out of bullets?"
Alastor looked at Kios with clear disdain before nodding slowly. Trapped between the wall in front and the Templars behind, Kios felt a flicker of hopelessness.
He saw a faint golden smoke emanating from Alastor, swirling around the knights. Yet they showed no sign of slowing.
A ripple appeared in the air, and Kios watched as a box with yellow and purple stripes emerged, floating toward Alastor—who opened it and immediately pulled out a vial of light-green liquid.
A healing potion…
"Quickly, give me one too!" he shouted. The Templars were now only meters away.
Alastor scoffed but reached into the box and tossed a vial toward Kios, who caught it smoothly and gulped it down.
A burning sensation surged through his body, concentrating on his hands. Using his teeth, he tore off the bandages—and saw a new layer of pink flesh covering his palms.
Kios smiled darkly."Not to sound too cocky, but rest assured, Mammon—I'll kill them all for you. And for me."
He leapt toward the remaining ten Templars, a new pair of daggers in his hands, their crimson steel gleaming.
Purple flames—less hot, but more dreadful—formed a ring around them. The priest glared at Kios with pure disgust. The Templars, recognizing the hellfire, began swinging.
He dodged to the side to evade the first blade, but a second slashed his shoulder.
He dies first.
The light reflecting off the crimson steel of his daggers intensified, a faint, unnerving ringing resonating from them. It didn't bother Kios—but it clearly disturbed the Templars. Their strikes slowed, lost precision.
Kios smiled—until a piercing pain struck his mind. His vision blurred. In the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of red—
The same red as the skeleton's alb…
Bang!
The loud, powerful shot of a gun snapped Kios out of it. He barely evaded an overhead morning star and stabbed a Templar through the torso—his dagger sliding through with ease.
He spun, purple flames dancing around him, and caught a glimpse of Alastor—box still floating beside him, now wielding a musket and targeting the Templars' weak points.
Like the joints.
Kios ducked a side-slash and pierced the exposed armpit, then whirled around and kicked the knight down.
Suddenly, a powerful force slammed into his back, knocking him over. He rolled and sprang back to his feet.
Alastor reloaded the musket calmly, replacing the ramrod.
The priest looked at the dead Templars, then up at the sky, and back down to them.
"Lúmir vetha arrows."
Dozens of incorporeal, light-blue arrows formed beside the priest and shot toward them.
Fck.*
Kios dropped to the ground and rolled behind Alastor, who ducked low with the box in front of him.
The arrows struck the box—yet caused no damage. They transformed into mist, then vanished.
"Daemira expellus," the priest's voice boomed.
Alastor began coughing violently, red blood splattering the floor—bubbling into frothy black. Kios remained untouched.
The priest's grey eyes widened. "You are not a demon?"
"No. I'm human. Some would say that's even worse."
Kios kicked Alastor in the back, forcing him to his hands.
"Stay here."
Alastor coughed. "It's not like I can run, even if I wanted to."
Kios chuckled. "You have a point."
He turned to face the priest, who stood unmoving, palm still raised. He muttered something under his breath.
With explosive speed, Kios dashed forward, daggers raised. As he lunged, a translucent blue barrier formed around the priest. Kios's dagger bounced off—it flickered.
He sighed, but continued the assault. Stabs. Slashes. Kicks. Knees. The barrier wavered. Kios grew dizzy, his breathing labored.
Children's whispers echoed in his ears—in a language unknown, yet hauntingly familiar.
The priest watched Kios calmly as he broke through. When the dagger plunged into his flesh, he looked up at the stars.
"O Elyana…" he whispered weakly.
Kios kicked his body to the ground and watched the blood pool out.
"I f*cking hate priests," Kios muttered breathlessly.
He turned to Alastor, who sat slouched on the ground, breathing heavily.
Kios walked up and placed a dagger to his throat.
"You gave me the healing potion. I killed the priest and most of the Templars. A fair exchange. Not that I believe in fair exchanges. Which is why I'm going to hold you hostage."
Alastor's eye twitched. A vein bulged from his forehead. His golden eyes glared with malice—his hands clenched tight.
"Fck you.""Fck you too."