As the commander stumbled back, Black smoke shifted from his neck, coalescing in his hand to form twin daggers, black as steel.
He lunged at the commander, aiming to slice off his head. The commander blocked just in time—sparks flew everywhere as blade met blade.
The air, buzzing with their mystic.
"Hey… hey… hey… answer me!" The commander stammered, trembling under the weight of the daggers. "How the hell did you learn the Mystic with that restriction placed on you?"
He spoke, pointing at the rose that Remy once had, but now it was fully absorbed by the shadows, like it had never even existed.
Remy just stared ahead, using the last of his vision; his eyes were drawn to the blades on his hands.
"So, this is the power he promised me, ha...? It's so heavy it's suffocating." He thought.
The daggers darkened further within the dark smoke, and he began pushing back the commander, cutting through the commander's blade.
The blade shattered in two, and Remy drew first blood—slicing the commander's arm.
"Ahhh! You f*cking bastard!" the commander yelled, dropping his defence as he clutched his wounded arm, bloodshot out like a volcano.
Remy spun again, his movements a blur—too fast for the commander to even flinch.
In a heartbeat, he was behind him, weapon raised high. The smoke writhed and twisted, reshaping itself into a reaper's scythe. His eyes were soft, almost like he was in a trance.
"Those who dare to kill must expect that they too will be killed in consequence," Remy spoke as he swung.
"You monster, what have you bec—" before he could even finish talking.
A savage arc curved through the air as the scythe crashed down—bone and sinew parting cleanly as the commander's legs were severed. A guttural scream tore from his throat.
"Ahhhhh, please, please, forgive me... please… I beg of you mercy, show me mercy." The commander whimpered, crawling desperately on blood-slick hands. "I didn't mean to hurt you. It wasn't me—those Saints! They're the real monsters. Blame them… I'm just a broken man."
But Remy's gaze was empty, void of mercy.
The smoke reformed swiftly back into the twin daggers, dripping with darkness and cold intent. He plunged them deep, over and over, each stab sending fresh torrents of blood spilling from ragged wounds. The commander's screams shattered the air, raw and ragged.
With a savage twist, Remy ripped out one eye, the socket gushing crimson. Then the ear snapped off like brittle bone. Then the nose, a ragged hole where flesh and cartilage once were.
The commander's pleas became pathetic gasps. "Please… just end this…"
But mercy was a forgotten word.
The scythe reappeared in a final, fluid motion. With a bone-crushing sweep, the commander's head was severed, tumbling to the bloodied ground with a sickening thud.
Silence fell, broken only by the faint hiss of smoke curling back into Remy's hand.
Cough! Cough!
Remy hacked violently, blood spewing from his mouth and eyes. His body trembled, as if life itself was draining away.