Father and son sat together in deep stillness.
The noise of clanging weapons and the acrid odour of smoke colonized the tenebrous empire—a macabre state that its residence had long grown accustomed to, yet not to this degree. It was a merciless cataclysm, a release from the insidious clutches of stagnating oppression that weighed against them like generational curses.
Ezeikel had explained everything that happened to him after witnessing his father be taken away by the enemy. Honestly, he expected to see his father dead upon finding his body, yet hoped against reason not to. Fortunately, luck seemed to have been on his side, preserving the later's life long enough till he could intervene.
Although it didn't prevent him from being wildly sliced by a swift barrage of blood swords and wings, at least the latter was just as good. After all, what was the point of living if you had no one to live your life with?
Kennedy nodded his head, taking in all that was being said. His eyes widened at the mention of a strange voice guiding his son, prompting him to ask his next question.
"Huh? The voice said there was power hidden within you?"
"Yes, it did. Father, do you know anything about that?" Ezeikel responded, curious.
Kennedy didn't reply immediately. He appeared deep in thought, contemplating his next words, until finally, he said:
"Indeed, I do. You see, you're not exactly normal or even mediocre. Sure, you have severely lacking blood magic, but that's only because there's something else within you—something that has the potential to be far more frightening than any other blood magic user in this kingdom. What you are, my son, is blessed," Kennedy articulated, his voice filled with eager wonder.
Ezeikel's expression slightly darkened as he responded.
"If that's the case, then why didn't you tell me anything? Why did you let me live out my days thinking I was just trash?"
In that moment, before Kennedy could respond, an ominous presence dawned upon them. Caught off-guard, a jagged wing tore through Ezeikel's chest, slicing through flesh and unleashing a morbid rush of blood. The Shadow Faction member looked back at him, a mocking grin glowing on his face as he pressed his hands through the latter's shoulder and drew his face closer. The next second, he shoved his fangs deep into Ezeikel's neck, distributing a higher pinnacle of pain throughout his body.
Ezeikel screamed, feeling his insides invaded by a corrosive force. His body convulsed, struggling to rid himself of the insidious vector. Seeing his son struggle, Kennedy rushed forward, but Ezeikel quickly shouted at him to stand back. If he had no chances of saving himself, then what good will his father do? The old man would simply be throwing his life away for a fruitless endeavor.
"Son!" Kennedy screamed, mentally struggling with what to do. Yes, he knew he wouldn't be of much help in this situation, but still, this was his son… He couldn't just stand back and watch him suffer, not while he was still standing, at least.
Hating himself for hesitating, he lunged forward, fists clenched as he poured what scraps of blood magic he could gather, and deliver a laughable punch to the enemy. The impact failed to do any sort of damage—all it did was draw the latter's attention away from Ezeikel, to him.
The winged creature detached itself from Ezeikel and pounced on the old man. However, before he could lay a hand on him, he felt someone grab his wing from behind, halting his flight. Angered, he turned his head back, only to see the boy grabbing his wing with a vexed expression.
He twisted his body, delivering a kick to Ezeikel's neck. The force nearly swept him off his feet, but he remained standing, his grip not relenting for even a moment.
Then, he pulled, drawing the airborne abomination back towards him. He geared his other fist back, a faint orange glow shrouding the physical manifestation of his hatred and disgust.
The winged creature opened its mouth wide, a violent purple glow gathering from within as the fist came dangerously close to his face. However, the punch was faster, snapping his mouth shut as a purple explosion popped his head violently from his body. Bones and flesh rained from the skies like hail, puddles of purple blood covering the hard ground.
Ezeikel found himself in the midst of the explosion, the dense force pushing him back. His head was furiously knocked back, bones internally fractured as lines of blood fell from physical protrusions. Gradually though, the remaining energy he had was channeled to heal his wounds, bringing him back to nearly perfect condition.
Kennedy looked back in surprise, speechless as he watched Ezeikel straighten and walk towards him. He still had that fierce expression on his face, as though failing to recognize that the threat had already been dealt with. He didn't even seem shocked at what he had just done.
"Who would've thought the boy who always cried for his life would one day become such a savage?" Kennedy asked himself, shivering slightly.
"Are you alright?" Ezeikel asked, his tone authoritative, yet infested with worry.
Kennedy snapped out of his daze before responding.
"Huh? That's what I should be asking you, you idiot? You took that blast straight on, yet somehow healed like it was nothing? How?" Kennedy tried fo remain composed, yet failed as fear and shock took over.
"That… I can explain…" in that moment, Ezeikel's body swayed. A heavy sense of lightheadedness drew his mind away from stability. As his body trembled, he soon found himself collapsing to the ground, eyes closed as the world around him was plunged into darkness once again. And in that darkness, he wasn't alone.
"You did good out there, Ezeikel. I am deeply proud," the voice said, stealing his attention from the throes of numbness.
"Thank you… I guess?" He replied, gathering his thoughts before asking. "Tell me, what else can I do with these powers I have?"
*******
Slade wasn't the only one with a formidable army of soldiers under his command. Being the emperor of Nefaria, Kael had authority over the Moonlight Army, a vast brigade of fearsome warriors lead by his famed cousin, the one regarded as the harbinger of death—Sylvia Darkhaven.
Her tall figure was adorned with long tenebrous hair and a magnificent armament of crimson armour. A cold expression remained fixed on her lithe, pale face, one devoid of all emotions except a deep sense of subdued hatred.
She was the elder sister of Roman, the last contestant whom Kael had slaughtered in his quest for the throne. She was a vampire of fearsome power, one whose reputation preceded her wherever she went, and whose power remained unrivalled within the ranks of the army. Few had ever challenged her, and none lived to see another day.
Ever since Slade had given the decree for his soldiers to begin the operation, Kael had also ordered for his army to deploy. He remembered his late brother's dying wish on that stormy night—no matter what, he should protect the settlement from the enemies beyond.
And since then, the Moonlight Army had engaged in a vicious war against the mysterious invaders. All across the empire, it was a fearsome battle, one that would find its way into history books for future generations to study. If there would be a future after this, of course.
So far, the tides of battle remained stagnant. Despite the Division Commanders, Generals, Lieutenants, and other ranks being engaged in battle, there were still at an infuriating stalemate with the enemy. Harbinger of death herself was caught in the midst of the deathly dance, fighting valiantly against the forces of Shadows within Dragon City.
The prestigious city wasn't spared from the insidious war. Many of its structures had been rendered vandalized by the conflict, raging infernos and blood-soacked streets snaking all across. Sure enough, the vampires that inhabited this city were vastly stronger than those living in the low-level towns. Still, the enemies here were even more vicious, swiftly overpowering those who were unlucky to be caught in it all.
Sylvia was currently engaged with Seth, the leader of this group of the Shadow Faction. He was a man with short purple hair and the similar purple-red eyes shared by every other members of the nefarious faction. His choice of attire was a dark leather set of clothing that covered him from head to toe, allowing for his wings, tail, and serrated claws to extended as freely as he desired.
Meanwhile, Sylvia's blood magic, which she utilized in the form of a double-bladed axe connected to a long chain, was her means of destruction. She swung the chain with the skill and precision of a seasoned veteran, each swing countered by her airborne adversary.
Both landed fearsome blows on each other, neither willing to relent. Seth would fly all across the terrain, searching for chinks in his enemy's defenses. At times, he would unleash a fierce wave of purple energy capable of insidious destruction. However, Sylvia was always quick to notice and dodge just in time.
Whenever her axe clashed with the latter's skin, it struggled to leave deep wounds on hardened scales. Still, with more effort, she slowly saw progress.
Nevertheless, the wounds on her body were slowly mounting. She had been battling for hours now, at the same time monitoring the flow of the other battles. She was far from tiring out, yet she worried for when the threat would finally be eliminated.
Seth descended in a rain of sharp claw swings, and she swung her weapon, the crimson axe gathering a furious mass of red energy as both collided in an explosive spectacle of surging radiance.