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.
He stood alone in that darkness. Then, all around him, his surroundings metamorphed, bringing him back to reality, one that had long past.
******
20 years earlier…
In the midst of paramount suffering and longing, Raphael found himself whisked away from what he knew as home. His mother, slaughtered by a pillar of the Dark Kings, his father left behind to suffer in eternal trauma, and him and his siblings, torn apart from it all, dragged away to fulfill the nefarious desires of the tyrannical organization.
He kicked and screamed, cursing the insidious group with piercing breaths. His body grew heavy, exhaustion pressing down against him like a shattered promise. Soon, his vision fluttered as his consciousness drifted away soon after.
Once he regained consciousness, he found himself surrounded by a group of adult male vampires, their stern eyes glaring down at him with visible disdain. Slowly, his gaze drifted, observing the landscape all around him.
A canopy of dark-coloured vegetation streamed across the outer parts of a large structure, their petals and fruits bathed in tenebrous vitality. Then, behind the canopy, a sturdy building stood firm, its surface built of solid bricks, vastly superior to the subpar wood that served as the material for every other enclosure in town.
Two guards remained stationed at the entrance, their postures straight, expressions alert. Neither one spared him a glance, focused solely on guarding their post.
"W-what is this place? What are we doing here?" A shaky voice pushed through his intrigue, his vision narrowing as he glanced back at Darion. The latter appeared utterly shaken, possessed by an indescribable sense of fear. Jay was just as, if not more petrified, clinging tightly to his brother as he aveeted his gaze from everyone.
'Tsk. Wimps,' Raphael shook his head, forcing himself back onto his feet the next moment. He winced as he forced himself up, straightening as he stared at the guards right in the eyes.
The men exchanged stern glances, turned back to face the kid. Then, one of them said:
"Now that you're awake, follow us. The boss would like to meet you," his voice was low, authoritative, and uncompromising. Right after, he turned, already marching towards the building's entrance. The other guards kicked them furiously, urging them to trail behind their comrade.
Darion and Jay instantly obeyed, rushing to catch up with the guard. Raphael hurried as well, however, in the midst of rushed footsteps, a single monologue played endlessly within his scarred mind.
'She's dead,' he caught up with his siblings and the guard, and the next second, they moved into the enclosure. Once inside, a lengthy passageway appeared before them, the guards footsteps echoing off the walls as they walked closely behind him.
All throughout the escortion, the guard remained mute, excluding the occasional grunts that flowed past deep silence. Soon enough, they stood before a door within the stretchy hallway, the guard's words suddenly permeating the air like the noise of scraping stone.
"If all goes well, you'll become new members of the gang…" he started off. "But, if not… hmhm… well, let's not spoil things yet," immediately after, he pushed the door open, stepping aside to allow them entry.
They walked into the dark space, the strong stench of rotting flesh assaulting their nostrils. The scene before them appeared morbidly familiar to the one they'd just escaped from, rattling their already tense nerves. A short distance away, a vampire appeared slouched against the solid floor, encompassed within a partly dried pool of blood. Standing a short distance away, with shoulders swaying uncontrollably, was a man with long flowing black hair and a short beard. His body was adorned in finely crafted silver linen covering him from top to bottom.
His fingers were graciously decorated with a plethora of rings, eyes commanding an insidious sense of fear as he gazed upon the children stepping into his domain. Darion and Jay exchanged petrified expressions, Raphael's neutral countenance serving as a sharp contrast.
"Oh, we have guests," the man spoke enthusiastically, instantly covering the distance to the children. Darion immediately flinched, body sharply turning to face the exit. However, catching sight of the guard's harsh look, his body froze, incapable of determining what to do next.
He was trapped, but more than that, he failed to determine whether or not he and his brothers would emerge from this situation alive, much less the same.
"My, it's rude to turn away from a host. Did your parents not teach you any manners?" The man asked, his tone laced with shock and disappointment.
Raphael's fists tightened. He forced himself to speak through gritted teeth, a furious expression basking across his bloodied face.
"Don't you dare mention my mother!" He struggled to remain still, silently reminding himself what would happen if he stepped out of line. Nevertheless, somewhere in his mind, he hoped his outburst wasn't already an unforgivable transgression. But then, whether it was or not, that wouldn't have altered his reaction in any way.
Silence encamped within the odious space, a sweet flow of laughter quenching the scorching void.
"Oh, did I strike a nerve? I'n afraid I was unaware of the… circumstances following your recruitment," the man replied, his tone casual, yet harbouring a mass of venomous mockery.
As the words escaped his lips, Raphael snapped, lunging forward in a fit of aggravated screams. He gathered what remnants of blood magic he could and he drew his fist back. His figure glided through the air, a tightened fist inches away from the man's face.
All the memories of the past came pouring into his vision at once—the good times; when they worked and enjoyed precious moments, shared jarringly impossible dreams for the future, joked and threw lighthearted insults at each other. Then, the dark times;the grimy scent of death, the pain, the trauma, the helpless fools that surrounded him. They all came flooding at once, their fervent will nearly drawing him off-course.
In the midst of gluttonous hatred, a wicked grin formed on the man's face, his tone carrying an air of malevolence.
"Welcome to The Dark Kings, brat."