Metsuhai looked at the three white pills in his hand in disgust. After a deep sigh he forced them into his own mouth, swallowing. The past week had been an endless nightmare. The pain in his left arm had become unbearable and constant, to the point Metsuhai really began to think he won't make it to his next birthday. Doctor Kin came to the rescue with these powerful yet cheap painkillers but they came with a price. The side effects were apparent and unpleasant, of the kind Metsuhai perhaps hated the most. They made him drowsy and dulled his mind: a terrible state to be in on the battlefield. And Metsuhai was fighting non-stop. It wasn't just him: there was no doubt an escalation in the intensity of the fighting. More and more tiny temporary breaches in the barrier, more and more dangerously strong opponents crossing. The dark army was clearly awakening from his slumber. The upcoming solar eclipse made the barrier especially weak. The order was at the end of its ability- at least that was the feeling. The dark army really smelled blood. And when the forces of evil smell blood they go into a frenzy, like an MMA fighter when his opponent is out of breath and with his hands down. Metsuhai was sent to infested lands and invaded towns repeatedly, going on more than one mission a day. He fought on three different fields in a single day too many times already. He was awoken once during the night to go defend a small village. The strain from all this was getting to everyone. All his friends on the battlefield had grim expressions and bags beneath their eyes. Even the helicopter pilots were overworked and drank too much coffee.
Metsuhai would never even consider taking these painkillers in such circumstances if he had a choice. But he did find a surprising way to counter their side effects: excessive sorcery practice. Somehow his sorcery training kept his mind sharp- though it cost him precious sleep hours he lacked as it is. It was as if the sorcery induced addiction that order members warned him about, conflicted with the addicting effect of the drugs.
As Metsuhai meditated (using sorcery of course) the words of Magnus echoed in his head "for your level I would advise focusing on the attributes you are naturally talented with: air and earth." Metsuhai didn't really want to receive guidance from the man who humiliated both him and his father but especially now that his demise was close and inevitable, he had to use everything in his disposal. I'll take as many of them as possible with me when I go. Metsuhai remembered the ease with which Magnus controlled the elements, as if there was nothing to it. Let's see what I can do. After long hours of trial and error and infinite effort there were some results. Controlling air flows and sending wind turned out relatively easy: he simply had to send his aura into the air around him and basic energy control did the rest. It was like he was born to do this. But this was hardly useful in combat. Harder was the 'Air Shield'. A vortex of constant powerful wind that deflects attacks and on the higher levels can send lesser opponents into flight. This technique was tricky: depending on the amount of power used here, this move could either be completely useless or unbelievably strong (but very exhausting).
There was also the 'Air Platform'. This was the unique ability to use energy to solidify air to behave like a stepping stone. It practically allowed Metsuhai to walk on air. It didn't require much power, and was extremely useful in various situations, but required incredible skill to use.
Last but not least of the air attacks was the 'Air Cut'. Requiring both skill and power, the ability to send a blade-like air stream projectile. This was clearly a combat move- though for now less powerful than Metsuhai's usual sword swing, still this fast, ranged, almost invisible spell could get the job done.
In the earth category Metsuhai had much less success. Though he felt the ground respond to his energy it wouldn't always cooperate. Different kinds of soil had different feeling to them, as if having a different character. The only move he could activate consistently was 'Wall', where he made rocks rise from below (even if there was no rocks there initially), forming a wall of stone. This move was mainly defensive, requiring some skill and creativity for offence.
…
Metsuhai and Chizue were holding hands, standing at the edge of the dock. It was daytime, but exhausted Metsuhai finally had a small break from his campaign to destroy all evil after returning from his night mission. Waves were coming and going, braking on the wooden floors of the dock. The relaxing sounds of water and birds were pleasant. Metsuhai enjoyed the wind and ignored the looks of the working man, who sent intrigued gazes to the couple's direction once in a while. This could be really bad for Chizues reputation and her upcoming engagement with the Seto family, but she clearly made her choice. Metsuhai could only be happy to think of anything else except crushers, firestarters, ratmen and so on.
Though their conversation was somewhat relevant nevertheless.
"…I am also worried about my father," Chizue confided in Metsuhai, "All the responsibility falls heavily on his shoulders. He practically doesn't get to sleep. He barely eats. Having Strategy meetings three times a day. Apparently all the officers were mobilized... Things must be really bad out there."
Chizue didn't even speak of her own frustration for being sent to relatively safe fights during this crisis. She looked at Metsuhai with hesitation. "It's tough," admitted Metsuhai, mainly wanting to change the subject. "I did improve my sorcery skills though. Thanks to Magnus I suppose."
Chizue lowered her gaze "We missed a golden opportunity. I am not just talking about the aid Magnus could have given us in the war. I was so stupid! He could have been the only man with the ability to cure that poison in your arm, and now he is gone and we'll probably never see him again. It's all my fault. I was raised as a diplomat above all. Yet when I was needed the most, I made a mess out of everything. And now you are going to die. I will never forgive myself!"
Now Metsuhai felt bad for Chizue as well.
"It's not your fault. Nao is good with his axes but as a politician there is much where to improve… Some even say he is as dumb as a boot. If anyone is to blame, It's him. Besides, that ungrateful, arrogant sorcerer probably wouldn't help no matter what we said. If I do meet him again I have no intention of bagging. I'll see this as my opportunity for payback or at least my way to go out with honor."
…
The sun was setting on the horizon of the highly populated modern built city. Orange-colored sun was disappearing fast into the sea. The shades of the tall buildings were getting longer and darker. High above, on a flat stone plate at the entrance of an ancient temple at the top of a massive mountain a round table was set.
Two teenagers sat at its sides, dressed with great style. The tablecloth was white, with silver stars on it. A small chocolate cake was placed on a fancy plate in the middle. Some of the cake was already eaten. Aside from several cutlery items and a teapot the table was empty.
Shun, wearing yet another flawless suit, sat across Chizue, slowly drinking from his hot steaming cup of tea. "…Yes you are right."
Chizue who wore a white light coat, spoke with toneless voice while her hands play with the teaspoon. "…so Don Quixotes horse jumped from one flying canon ball to the other. This is hilarious. I mean, the writer created an excellent comedy out of nothing. This was to extreme contrast to the frustrating art crisis in the late Renaissance, or am I mistaken and it was written at the beginning of the Renaissance, I can't quite pinpoint, I'm a bit rusty."
"Yes you are absolutely right."
"It's not like I dislike women agreeing with me, but you seem distracted, you look like you are not even here."
"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"
"I could be mistaken of course, but I have a bit of experience in these matters. I think I know what is this about. You love another man."
For a moment neither of them said anything, only the sound of mountain wind could be heard.
"You are right," Chizue looked Shun sadly into his eyes, "My heart belongs to another. However it appears fate has other plans for me. I am sorry for not telling you, but I was not deceiving you."
"In a perfect world every marriage would be the result of love. Ours doesn't work this way unfortunately. We don't always get our hearts desire, and sometimes have to make hard choices," Shun paused for a moment and then wore a wide smile "But it is not your case. I at least won't stand between you and your love. My future wife will be with me with no doubts or regrets, that's my way. You are still young. Don't give in to fate. Your destiny is not decided yet."
Chizue looked at Shun with shock, on the verge of tears.
"I will tell my father I am not ready to marry yet after all," said Shun, his expression slightly pained "I will take all the responsibility. I wish you fortune. May we meet again in better circumstances one day. Perhaps if we are both unmarried then, a few years from now, we will discuss this again."
…
An old woman was sweeping the street, trying to make her shabby stall surroundings more inviting. The ugly, grey, seemingly abandoned apartment buildings around didn't help. She lifted her eyes as she heard the sound of light footsteps. A kid was walking alone down the street. Something about him was different.
As he got closer the granny realized the kid had horns on his head and hoofs instead of feet. And those eyes, oh the horror. These devil-like goat eyes. The old woman hid behind the stall, holding her breath, not making a sound.
The kid, Roteah, was actually accompanied by an invisible familiar. The familiar was holding a long wooden staff, covered along the shaft with circles of dry blood with a skull attached to the edge. "Yet another miserable human who hates and fears us," said the little guy with a squeaky voice, pointing his staff to the direction of the stall, "Gives me an appetite to be sincere -Roteah sama."
"I told you I prefer burgers. Eating humans feels weird somehow. It reminds me my mother."
"As you wish oh great and honorable master, I am sure you'll change your mind eventually."
The two approached a building entrance no different than the others.
"It's here Roteah-sama."
"I don't know about this. Tricking thugs to get their money could get us in trouble. I don't want to kill more of those guys with swords."
"This is the safest way to make money fast except for robbing a bank. I love money. Probably they won't even know that we cheat. And even if they knew they couldn't prove it. You have nothing to fear."
Roteah nodded and they entered the questionable establishment.
It was not a particularly inviting sight. The surrounding were somewhat dark and gloomy. The wooden floor was dusty and dirty. From time to time it was possible to encounter a hole or a crack in the floor. Everything smelled from Alcohol. The large picture depicting a plate with fruit hung crooked from the grey wall. The wall had lost its original color long ago. And the people were just as unpleasant: tattooed thugs wearing leather Goth clothes, busty women with freaky haircuts and drugged expressions, and men in worn out cloths that were completely drunk. A poor thin man was throwing out so strongly it seemed he was gonna pour his insides out any moment. One of the thugs was so fat his pants wouldn't fully cover his huge hairy ass.
On the tables stood plates filled with spaghetti floating inside green stuff that resembled what inmates in Russian prison eat. The bar-maid who delivered more green to the tables fit right in. she was an aging wide-bodied tough-faced fat woman with organized hair pointing up. She had a huge chest and a dress so short you could almost see her underwear. In short, she looked like an experienced whore from very old western movies. She walked on her high-hilled shoes, delivering to the tables disgusting food and strong expensive wines. Some guy threw an empty vodka bottle on the wall, smashing it to bits. To summarize, this was the place for broken souls.
Roteah looked around as his invisible friend closes the door behind them. It looked kind of weird to see the door closing on its own, but it seemed none of the people around were paying attention for now. Roteah made his way deeper inside. A large Labrador sitting on the floor, raised his gaze, howled and started backing down, soon reaching the corner of the 'restaurant'. "What's wrong with Luca?" The dogs owner, visibly confused, called his pet back several times, but the dog wouldn't cooperate.
One of the guests actually saw the horns. "I have to stop drinking"
"These people don't look rich to me," quietly stated Roteah.
"Our targets are in the back," the familiar pointed to a not conspicuous door at the side of the drink stand, "behind that door is the VIP room."
Almost innocently Roteah walked to the door, distracted by two drunk angry men who just started fist-fighting on the other side of the establishment, until he bumped into something soft. Right in front of him stood the tough-looking eroded bar-maid.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm just…"
"No no no! You can't go there. No one told me you were coming. Children aren't even supposed to be here."
"But…"
"Go home kid."
"Okay, I'm going" answered Roteah, turning around. The bar-maid once sure the kid was far enough was back to delivering the green stuff.
"Three-Hundred-Forty-One we need a distraction," Roteah spoke quietly again.
"Coming up, master!"
The familiar, Three-Hundred-Forty-One, waved his wand lightly. On the other side of the room, loaded plates and cups full of wine slowly took to the air, hovering in place. Everyone in the room stared in disbelief. They had never before witnessed anything like this. "What the…!"
Roteah and his invisible grey friend rushed through the unlocked door.
…
The VIP room had a completely different atmosphere. The room was small and cozy, lit lightly by a somewhat fancy chandelier. Only five men were present: middle aged, wearing Goth attires of known brands. They all wore black sunglasses and very expensive watches. They also had guns on their belts and were in the middle of an intense card session.
Right now however they all looked at this ten year old kid who was not supposed to be there.
"Did someone order pizza?" one of them asked. He was especially tall and wide, dumb-looking fellow. "You're not supposed to be here, beat it kid," the second one noted. He had fake red hair. "How did Baba-Ega let you in?" the third, a blonde guy with yellow earring-like piercing, one in each side of the nose, demanded to know.
"It's so hard to find good help these days," remarked the first criminal.
Roteah took one more step into the room.
"He is either brave or stupid the little bastard."
"I'm the best poker player in this city," Roteahs voice was somewhat nervous but this looked very natural in the current situation, "Play me if you dare."
"I am calling my body guard," stated the law-breaker closest to the door, stroking his red hair.
"Wait! Wait!" the guy with two earrings in his nose shouted as if in panic "this could be fun."
The five bent together whispering "this is a golden opportunity. Were gonna clean out his pockets." After shortly consulting the others, the blonde guy turned to the kid, "You do have money right?" Money, something to gamble with. I haven't really thought of that. Roteah looked from side to side to the hungry gazes of the crime mini-bosses. 341 snuck a gemstone into Roteahs hand. "What about this?" asked Roteah showing his palm. The guy with the two earring drew a magnifying glass and examined the stone. "Mother of Jesus!... Do you know how rare and expansive this gemstone is! You got it kid," (turning back to his friends) "He is that small, how good could he be, today we are gonna become much richer." (Turning back to Roteah) "It's on, take a seat and let's get started."
For now things had been going mostly according to Roteahs plan, though he was insulted earlier. The game was on. The familiar was moving from side to side behind the criminals backs, invisible and silent. He saw their cards (and Roteahs) and advised him with thumbs up or down and more body language what to do. Roteah was winning almost all the time. Once when the bet had been high, the familiar waved his wand before Roteah revealed his hand, changing his cards temporarily, thus granting him victory with a full house.
Not long after that, 341 crossed his hands, signaling Roteah they should stop here but Roteah kept playing. He never had this much money or fun before. He could buy his mother all the alcohol she ever wanted and still keep some change.
But after ten more rounds the criminals who were clearly sufficient with the game figured out there must have been some deception.
"Enough!" shouted the biggest of the crew, "You cheat. I don't know how and I don't care. You are not leaving with our money!"
"I'll be damned if I let a teenager steal my stuff," declared the guy with the earrings, "kill the whoreson!"
They really shouldn't have said this… (The familiar)
The thugs drew their guns and opened fire. "Run for it!" shouted the bar-maid beyond the door as the loud sounds of gunshots echo through the entire building.
The bullets were deflected from Roteahs body as if they hit armored steel. Roteahs eyes became crimson red, filled with blood. But it wasn't because of the bullets. The familiar took form. "No, Roteah, calm down!" he cried out, but it was too late.
"What the hell?!" shouted the piercing wearing thug, "The bullets wouldn't work!" These were his last words.
Roteah stretched his body forward, bringing his chest out, releasing a mean goat bleat. He filled his lungs with air and unleashed a devastating stream of fire. Fortunately his aim was a bit off. He missed all the thugs but he did hit the table, burning the money and the cards. The table cought flames falling to the floor. The familiar waves his wand just in time to get the gemstone out of the way. Then the thugs luck run out. Roteah tore the blonde guys neck with a single sharp hand sweep, his short brown sharp eagle-like claws making easy work of it. Blood sprang out of the damaged arteries like a river, raining on Roteahs face and into his mouth. Before the thug had the time to fall, Roteah already rammed his horned head into another criminals chest, piercing his heart. The others were next. And Roteah wasn't just killing them. He was tearing them to pieces. Biting into the tall guys arm while sticking his claws deep into it. A hoof blow crusher the red-hairs skull. In no time all five unfortunate criminals laid around him breathing their last. Still it wasn't over quite yet.
Roteah caught 341 by his small gray neck and pinned him to the wall, threatening to tear his soft neck to pieces. "Wait Roteah it's me, 341" 341 struggled to talk. The building was slowly catching flames. For a few long seconds Roteah was floundering and confused. It seems he had a difficult inner struggle. As if there were several conflicting parts of him.
Roteah released 341 and fell backwards on the floor, gently landing on his butt. He blinked several times and his gaze was back to normal. It seemed he was his 'nice' self again. Roteah looked around. Seeing the dead criminals, the burning building, and the claw marks on 341s neck.
"Did I do this?"
"Yes master," The familiars voice was still a bit hoarse "Your fathers blood is truly strong. Let's forget about this and get out of here."
"I can't believe they are all dead." 341 didn't answer.
Roteah nodded. The two left the VIP room and made their way to the exit. Just as Roteah was about to go through the burning door (the fire really spread out fast) to the outside, he bumped into someone, falling backwards. It was a swordsman with a sword and a shield, armored from head to toe. He was tall and tough looking.
"Fiend you're goona die!" The warrior declared proudly.
The swordsman was closing in- frightened Roteah crawling backwards.
"Master, kick his butt!" 341 tried to get Roteahs confidence back, who seemingly lost his fighting spirit, while backing away himself.
The swordsman swung his blade missing by inches as Roteah rolls away. The sword cutting through the planks of the floor. Roteah got up to his feet. He breathed in a lot of the air that was densely mixed with the smoke, and released a huge blast of fire. The swordsman defended with his large shield- blocking the attack, though his shield did become red and released white smoke.
"You're going down!" the order fighter cut Roteah with his blade. Instead of being divided in two Roteah received a minor, barely bleeding cut on his chest. Roteah was shocked. He never bled before. Soon the shock turned into rage. Roteah charged and delivered a devastating fist with all the power he could muster. Even the swordsmans plate armor bent to the inside.
"It will take far more than that to take me down," the swordsman declared.
Roteah looked with sinister expression.
"You can be angry all you want. This is- your last fight."
Roteah shot a small red energy beam upwards. While the swordsman looked up for a moment Roteah charged. The swordsman reacted fast, but not fast enough. With a strong claw attack right at the veins Roteah took that dangerous sword out of the warriors hands. The swordsman hit Roteah with a steel fist. He was on top of Roteah before Roteah knew it. The two of them wrestled, rolling on the burning wooden floor. The swordsman held Roteahs hands. He used several opportunities to deliver crushing fists from above. Only letting go of one arm at a time and soon grabbing it again.
The familiar was using his magic to fight the fire. He wasn't as tough as Roteah. The flames were very dangerous for him. Roteah was in trouble. The swordsman was on top of him, raining down blows with both his fists. Roteah seemed not to even know where he was.
The swordsman had indeed done everything right. He should have won that fight, but… some things were out of his control. Fate had other plans for Roteah. In a short moment of clarity Roteah managed to release and aim one of his hands. Before the swordsman knew it the hand with the sharp claws went through him all the way to the other side, piercing both his armor and body.
…
Metsuhai Left the used parachute in a trashcan and looked up the street. The destination was close. The smoke from the burning building couldn't be missed. I hope whoever is in there is still hanging in. Ando sent Metsuhai to yet another emergency mission. Apparently there was a team of two already on the job here, but one retreated due to his wounds. The other was headed to the direction of a strong energy signature and didn't report anything back for a while. His battlephone was dead. Not a promising start of a rescue mission.
For how much longer are the higher ups going to test our endurance?
Metsuhai was probably not the only strong warrior thinking these kinds of thoughts at these tough times. He at least wasn't particularly afraid for his life, since his time was coming to an end.
Metsuhai entered the burning old structure, with his sword ready, using wind magic to get the smoke out of his way. This was very convenient. In the past Metsuhai had to breathe through a wet piece of cloth to avoid smoke poisoning. Metsuhai searched the building, his sharp senses only picking up one weak, fading power. He rushed to the aid of the wounded warrior. Most of the corpses in the building have already been burned beyond recognition. Inside the inferno laid one warrior in reddened plate armor, still holding his sword. As Metsuhai approached and bent down, to his horror he recognized dying John.
"No, no no no!…" John was breathing hard and clearly in pain. His gaze dull. Metsuhais mind went blank. It just couldn't be. He refused to accept it. Not you. Metsuhais breath became erratic. He suppressed the panic attack, forcing himself to breath steadily with a fixed pace. Now he sank into a mind storm.
If only I had taken a health potion with me! Metsuhai didn't bother buying potions even though he finally had the money for it (since the medication stopped working completely all he had to buy were the painkillers). After all, potions were mainly meant for prolonging ones life, something that had technically already ran out for Metsuhai. So at the time he saw no point in it. Metsuhai frantically searched Johns pockets and his backpack- after removing it from the belt and unshrinking it, too slow for comfort from his perspective. Johns backpack was filled with battle related stuff: knives, a spare smaller shield, magic scrolls, bandages, a single flash grenade. Finally at the very bottom he found but one low-leveled health potion.
Metsuhai poured the light-blue liquid into Johns mouth. John started coughing (blood too), his gaze sharpening. Thank goodness. Metsuhai looked at the hole in Johns intestines. It didn't close. "Oh…" Johns voice was weak but otherwise sounded normal, as if they just met on the street, "How nice of you to visit me for the last time, Metsu-san,"
"Don't speak like that. I'll call for medical assistance immediately."
"Your time will be used better hearing me out."
Metsuhai reached for his battlephone. As the screen lit up, Metsuhais hand shook. He knew there was no point. John clearly received fatal damage, and if Metsuhai had any doubt it was erased by his ability to sense energy. Tears went down across Metsuhais face. He knew for some time now, that as warriors of the order, death was always around the corner. But seeing it up close was a different matter. He convinced himself that he is going first. But reality was crueler.
"No need to be sad. Finally I am free from this life, free from my infinite sorrow," John stared Metsuhai right into his eyes, "This is how I wanted to die for a long time now. In honor, while fighting the very baddest demons. Make sure I am remembered. Tell my Children I love them. Tell my Children who and what their father was."
Johns gaze became empty.
Metsuhai remembered how he and john first spoke. It was one of the hardest Lezners training sessions. John explained to him some unimportant detail about hilts. No matter how hard it got John was always the tough man who showed no weakness, smiling and razing his armor covered fist. John was able to tell jokes and keep a playful attitude at all times. No one could ever replace him. Metsuhai remembered how they drank beer together bumping their cups (the taste was quite sharp), how they played chess together and discussed scrolls containing battle strategies. Metsuhai closed Johns eyes. I'll grief later.
Metsuhai shouted in rage, raising his power. "I'll make the bastard who did this pay!"
The fight happened recently, he might still be nearby. Sorcerers eye!
Metsuhais sight changed and he focused it in an ever expanding circle outwards. He had never used his sorcery sight ability on such a high level before. So many more intricate details were suddenly visible and reveled, but Metsuhai had no interest nor time for this discovery. He cared only about avenging the death of his friend. Metsuhai took a deep breath, focusing only on what matters, filtering out the unnecessary, including the approaching fire trucks with their loud sirens. There was no clear demon presence, barely any traces of energy left. He couldn't even use them as footprints. However a weak reading far away, of a low leveled energy gave his opponent away.
Someone with this power level would have never beaten John. I guess, though it's unlikely, if Johns opponent got wounded maybe his power would drop to this, but there was hardly any demon blood on the floor. Or any other indication the enemy took damage. Wait… many demons aren't as brave as they pretend, often they work in groups. This energy belongs to a familiar. Familiars usually escort more powerful fiends, just maybe I can find my target by pressuring this little guy. Though he is pretty strong for a familiar.
Metsuhai ran at an amazing pace, competing with that of a race car, his arms at the sides of his body, pointing backwards. The surroundings (looking kind of bluish due to the sorcerers eye effect) flowing incredibly fast at his sides. In no time he saw the second energy signature- it was small as well but incredibly powerful.
Roteah was sitting on a bench in some alley, putting ice to his hurt face. 341 was standing near him and pretending to care.
I'm gonna take the weak one out of the way first, then thoroughly obliterate this weird beastman.
Metsuhai appeared out of nowhere, slashing at the supposedly invisible familiar. 341 barely managed to put his arms in the way, yet he was still cut badly. Blood sprang out of the long deep wound. His arm hanging like a useless rag, almost completely cut off. Mister 341 was invisible no more. Metsuhai wasted no time, aiming the sword for a finishing blow, with the hilt pointing up and the blade pointing down to finish the familiar off when Roteah pushed him out of the way. The push sent Metsuhai to the air.
"Leave my friend alone, you big bully!" Roteah exclaimed with a childish voice, standing between Metsuhai and 341.
Metsuhai barely landed on his feet, taking his battle stance in an instant.
"You protected… your friend?" Metsuhai spoke, trying to make sense of the situation. The invisible (still shouting from pain) familiar was unusual enough. To think that this kid defeated John, who is an exceptional combatant one on one… And what is this about friendship? Demons don't have friends.
Roteahs hand glowed red and bandages closed from all directions, stopping the familiars bleeding. "You messed with the wrong team. I'll show you, you…"
Metsuhai couldn't care to listen. He appeared in front of the kid (who was significantly shorter than him) putting a cut on his chest with his blade. Roteah was shocked as blood struggled to make its way out of the new wound. Roteah moved fast, crimson energy gathering around his palms. Roteah released a huge crimson beam, as wide as a car. Metsuhai was violently pushed backward, stopping the power with his hands. With great effort Metsuhai pushed the beam up, and it exploded in the sky with a thunder-like sound. Roteah succumbed to his most basic instincts (kind of). Roteah grabbed 341 and ran (and man that was fast). "You're not getting away!" declared Metsuhai. The running continued for some time. Roteah running across a highway stooping a speeding car just by putting his hand on the way. The cars steel bent at the place of the collision. Metsuhai gave chase, slowly catching up. Roteah crossed highways, causing chain-accidents with cars, busses and trucks. He jumped over a high fence separating two sides of the road easily, the familiar dragged along like a doll. Roteah ran and ran. A vase filled with apples fell and broke after Roteah slightly touched it on his way. The apples rolled to all directions. Roteah ran as fast as ever, pushing people out of the way. But no matter how hard he tried, Metsuhai was always right behind him.
Roteah ran into an alley, and to his horror discovered it's a dead end. Roteah who had been breathing hard, was thinking franticly. His eyes moving chaotically from one direction to the other. Metsuhai entered the alley slowly closing in. breathing hard as well. He stopped his sorcery enhanced sight. It was not needed any more.
I have to keep that sword far from me, Roteah thought, turning to face Metsuhai.
"I'll have you pay for my friends life with your blood." Metsuhai was barely keeping his own demon energy at bay. Roteah pointed both palms at Metsuhai. Roteah rained small, long, fast energy beams on Metsuhai. Metsuhai put his hand forward, and all the approaching energy just disappeared. "Are you done?"
Roteah bleated in frustration. Metsuhai didn't plan to give Roteah any more openings. He moved his hands by the technique and released air cuts into the air. Roteah tried dodging, but he couldn't dodge them all. One cut hit his left shoulder, another rammed into the right. One more bumped away from his belly, leaving a bleeding wound.
I got lucky so far, Roteah knew, if he hits my vital organs I'm a goner!
Metsuhai kept attacking relentlessly, wounding Roteah further.
It won't be long now, Metsuhai thought, watching Roteah suffer, He had it coming.
"Phaulin Junior sama you have to fight!" called out 341, "You can still beat him!"
Metsuhai was shocked. Phaulin junior?! He is the son of the baron! Now I have farther more reason to kill him.
Roteah fell on one knee as his sight got blurred. Some new feeling was bubbling inside him. Tickling his insides. But it wasn't the pain. It was an uncontrollable rage, the way only creatures of inferno can feel. Roteah bleated as his eyes turn crimson.
Before Metsuhai knew it Roteahs energy skyrocketed. Roteah released a narrow blade-like lighting, and it was red. All Metsuhai could do in time was put his sword on the way. The enchanted electricity tore through his body and broke his sword in half. Pain surged in his entire body. Metsuhai fell off his feet, his sight blurry and distorted, as if the alley was suddenly illuminated strongly by a broken computer screen. Metsuhai desperately tried to pull himself up and regain control of his senses, his ears ringing, watching as Roteah grabs the familiar and climbs fast and skillfully over the alley wall. Roteahs palms and hoofs seemed to magically stick to the vertical wall as if glued or magnetically attracted to it. Get up Metsuhai! That murderer is getting away! Metsuhai forced himself up and everything span around him in complete chaos. He fell on one knee, taking deep slow breaths.
When his sight stabilized somewhat, Roteah and his minion were gone. Before Metsuhai could decide on his next move, his battlephone, now damaged, rang. Metsuhai answered.
"Report Fugughuu!" Ando sounded more nervous than usual, "Your battlephone camera died. What's the situation?"
Metsuhai blinked a few times. "The man I was sent to reinforce, my friend, John is dead," Metsuhais voice broke a bit, "I engaged the monster responsible, but he got away. I will find and destroy him. No need to send reinforcements."
"Then your mission is a failure. Return to the capital immediately. You will be sent elsewhere, where you are needed. That is after we replace your battlephone and check your physical condition."
"With all due respect sir, I must finish this here and now. This demon is very dangerous. If I leave him be many might die."
"Do you know his exact location?"
Metsuhai looked down, answering quietly. "No sir."
"Your opponent most likely already crossed the barrier. It's very easy to go to their side. It's not like lives are not jeopardized on where I'll send next. People are going to get hurt while you play your revenge game with this wild goose chase. I will not repeat myself. Move it now!"
"But my enemy is baron Phaulins son!"
"I get that you are hurting. I lost friends too. But lying to your commander is unacceptable. If I wasn't lacking manpower you would be court marshalled for these words! Get going before I change my mind."
Metsuhai considered the situation fast. I can't stop thinking about killing this bastard. However…. If I defy my commanders again even my fathers influence won't get me out of this a second time. My head is exploding. It was probably that lightning. My eyes are crying tears, exhausted from sorcery overload. I can track him down no more. And that guy is damn strong. Even if by some miracle I find him. My sword is broken. Without it he might be the one killing me. I guess I have no way out of this.
"Yes sir. I'll get Johns body and go."
"You are walking on thin ice… I guess it can't be helped. Hurry up."
Metsuhai carried the body of his lifeless friend on his shoulder to the extraction point. He spoke to himself. "I swear John, I won't back down, won't give up ever again. I'll avenge you if it's the last thing I'll do!"