Predicting the creature would strike from his blind spots, Vincent tightened his muscles and twisted his body in the direction of the noise, swinging his broad sword with both arms. He unleashed another horizontal arc of spiritual energy that tore through the water, shredding the shadowy veil of the incoming form in a spiraling vortex.
Yet as his violent motion disturbed the surrounding water, his eyes bulged. The scaly silhouette before him dispersed into a black mist, obscuring his vision.
'Shit! It wasn't the main body.
Now temporarily blinded, Vincent shut his eyes and channeled more energy into his Mystic sense perception, and the surroundings snapped into a pool of intent, replacing his physical sight completely. Sensing the creature's spiritual energy rush towards him, Vincent instinctively swung his sword outward,
Clang!
The force of the collision sent a ripple through the murky water, clearing away the mist and moss. Unexpectedly, his blade had met something metallic, rapidly spinning. Immediately after his vision cleared, he laid eyes on the outline of a golden badge, eerily similar to the one he possessed, the same one he had given his brothers.
'T-That can't be, I left them above!'
With his expression quickly turning pale, Vincent clenched his teeth, feeling a strong urge to swim upward. If his brothers had truly gotten captured, staying here meant gambling everything on a battle with odds stacked against him.
However, before he could even make a move, the creature surged forward.
From below him, half a dozen shadowy arms burst outward in a frenzy, seeking to ensnare him. But Vincent was one step ahead: Without a moment's hesitation, he shifted his body sideways, attempting to evade the deadly grasp.
Whoosh!. His timely reaction managed to save his life as the hands missed his torso by a hair's breadth.
Yet his arm did not escape. Each limb curved unnaturally towards him, latching on to his entire left arm and shoulder. Their grips then tightened, twisting with a pure savage precision.
Crack! Crack Crack!
In mere seconds, the sensation of his bones breaking quickly shot through his mind with every muscle fibre in his arm ripping apart.
Not yielding to the pain. Vincent gritted his teeth, forcibly suppressing the feedback and channeling his spiritual energy.
Partially activating Aquaphine shift to conserve energy, he tried to infuse the effects on his clutched arm, intending to slip free, but it was not enough.
With a cruel tug, the creature, which he had assumed to be a Yumbra, ruthlessly tore his arm off.
Deeply shaken, Vincent's body shuddered as his vision began to waver and streams of warm crimson pored out in the water.
At the same time, with his remaining hand still grasping the hilt of his sword, he spun, narrowly avoiding another two arms, and then swung his blade, now infused with a light spell, towards the creature's neck.
Simultaneously, he began another incantation in hopes of using his attack as a ruse to attempt another sealing with the Black coffin, and while he was running low on spiritual energy, it mattered little with a spell as efficient as Sarkofag-Sigil.
Personally developed by his mother, it was well attuned to be effective against any life form once the seal began to absorb their spiritual energy, and that was precisely what Vincent planned to do.
Previously, he had failed as the creature's vast reserves had stalled the process.
This time, he sought to bear the risk of taking the creature's energy himself.
'I should be able to handle it, but if I can't…' Steeling his resolve, he banished the thought from his mind and increased the force behind his swing.
However, his strategy quickly fell apart when a thinker palm suddenly extruded from the creature's neck, catching the blade nearing the base.
Just then, with his grip stubbornly applying more force to his broad sword, Vincent felt the spiritual energy he had poured into the blade for both spells be drained away.
Right before his eyes, his best efforts had proven meaningless, and a sense of weakness was starting to take hold, heavier than the water pressing against him. Over his two years as a specter, he had rarely faced a threat so thoroughly beyond him. Most specters seldom advanced past Grades three and two.
But it was that experience that kept him moving beyond fear and doubt
Suddenly, he felt a familiar presence hone in on his position.
'That Spiritual energy.. It has to be Kruger!!!' Vincent's pupils dilated when he discovered who the third party in the distance was. Pushing his body from a kick, he then activated a water skill and propelled himself away from the creature before it could react.
Without hesitation, he began swimming to the source, narrowly evading another round of attacks as the creature followed a few paces behind.
His body felt colder by the second, blood dispersing freely.
If the wound remained open, he knew the truth well enough.
He was running out of time.
Fighting alone would be the end of him.
*****
"Why do you want to know that?"
Cecil's hollow gaze remained fixed on Damon as she spoke. Her voice came out flat, devoid of the youthful cheerfulness from moments before, and replaced by the coldness of a strict adult.
Damon felt his scalp prickle.
"I-I don't really want to go near it," He forced a smile, though his throat felt dry, and said quickly. "It just… gives me a bad feeling when I look at it. If you stay so close to it, I thought you might be in danger."
For a fleeting moment, Cecil stared at him in silence, and a faint trace of light slowly returned to her eyes. "You're smart."She nodded with surprising enthusiasm.
"Thinking about going near it is bad. I don't know why," she continued, her voice lowering, "but I feel strange when I look at it too, and Mr told me I must never go near its shore."
Upon hearing this, Damon's brows shot up as his heart skipped a beat.
"Mr…?" he asked curiously.
In response, Cecil tilted her head, her brows knitting together in mild irritation. Her gaze then sharpened, as though she had just heard an incredibly foolish question.
"Mr is Mr," Cecil deadpanned, subtly rolling her eyes. At that moment, the temperature of the room seemed to drop.
Henry's fingers trembled on the keys, but he didn't stop playing. The melody wavered for a fraction of a second before stabilizing again.
'Mother Morrigan, please let him stop talking!' Henry pleaded inwardly, sweat beading on his temple.
After noticing her expression, Damon smiled bitterly, almost slapping his forehead.
'Was this really the mind of a twenty-four-year-old woman?' he wondered. He then recalled that Cecil had been a believer in Olympia and an idea too shape.
'I guess it's time to put some acting skills to use,' Damon sighed inwardly. He wasn't a stranger to deception; it was his favourite tool, yet something about what he was about to do felt strangely wrong.
Taking a knee, he placed his left hand over his chest, directly pressing above his heart with the noble countenance of a knight. He then stared into her eyes and stressed his words. "I'm sorry for asking about the lake."
Startled by his actions, Cecil blinked repeatedly.
However, Damon's gaze held firm, his expression sincere, almost reverent. "I swear in the name of the Goddess Olympia… I believe my friends may have fallen into that lake. If "Mr" is truly an upright person, then he would agree that anyone who falls into the lake should be saved, right?. Wouldn't that please the Goddess?"
The words left his lips with gentle intent, and his spiritual energy flowed toward Cecil, subtly intertwining with Henry.
As if feeling benign hands tickling the delicate outline of her spirit, Cecil fell silent, musing upon his words.
Her gaze drifted downward, and dulled with her lips pressing together as if she were genuinely considering the logic behind the rules she had been given.
Damon watched her closely, his fingers curling slightly at his side.
'Please… come with me!'