Chapter 1
Spoiler: show
Sweat beads on the brow. A single eye narrows in concentration. Sparks fly as the sound of a hammer striking steel echoes in the dimly-lit room. The Cyclops continues her given duty, striking again and again on the forge in front of her, while her employer watches from behind, obscured by the shadows of the room. She wipes some perspiration off her brow as she lifts the blade, sliding a finger across the smooth metal, from hilt to tip. Acceptance of its quality passes through her expression, but it seems her work has yet to be finished. Sword in hand, she turns to the figure behind her, and nods.
The nod is returned, and the mystery figure straightens herself from her prone position against the stone wall behind, raising a single, thin arm, and holds an open palm forward. From in front of this outstretched hand, a black orb begins to grow in midair, until the size of it eclipses the average torso of any human being. The Cyclops gazes at the orb, then at its creator, before taking the sword and adjusting her grip, before plunging it, to the hilt, into the ebony sphere before her, letting it remain there, as the other figure flexed her sinewy fingers, and the orb began to shrink, a reverse of its creation, vanishing in short time, seemingly absorbed into the newly-forged weapon. Once the process is complete, the Cyclops gazes again at the length of enchanted metal, looking her reflection in the eye, reaching to touch the blade once more...
"Ah!" Immediately on touching it, the Cyclops's hand retreats, and her breath catches in her throat. But the noise and expression that followed her experimental touch was not one of pain, but of something decidedly more pleasant. Her lips curve into a small smile, as she clears her throat and tries to regain her previous stoic composure. "Madame, the process was a success. It shall serve exactly as you intend it."
The deep red lips of the "Madame" have curved into a sensuous smile as she takes the blade from the single-eyed blacksmith. The woman's silver-haired visage reflects in the enchanted blade as she appraises it with her crimson eyes. "Yes...quite nice, indeed. This will be most entertaining to watch, for all involved. Mother will be pleased; more of them will join the fold of my brothers and sisters...more will be shown the happiness she promises....and I will see if one of those silly little cultists can pass my 'test' and learn of his own foolishness." She continued to muse over the silver sword, before turning with it in hand, hair billowing behind her sinuously as she left the Cyclops behind in silence. "Now, let us see who best qualifies for this rite of passage..." she said with a smile.
------------------
Steel clashed against steel as blade met blade, before two men pulled back, only to rush forward to strike metal against metal once again. Alone in the room together, the two allies trained their swordsmanship against each other, as they so often did, their appearance matching the style of their attacks. The taller one struck with more speed, more vigor, all with a healthy smile upon his face as he retaliated against all the calculated, concentrated strikes of his stone-faced sparring partner. Overhead swings met sideways swipes, which clashed against forward lunges, as the two continued to match each other in skill, until finally, it was time for someone to give. The happier of the two struck high, only to be met with a glancing blow to the tip of his blade, rebounding it backwards, allowing the smaller of the two to hunker himself and push forward, knocking into him with his shoulder and sending him to the floor, losing his grip on his sword, which skidded away across the stone floor.
The practice battle over, the victor tucked his blade back into its sheathe, before offering his hand to help his partner up. With a chuckle and a rub of the back of his head, the loser accepted the assistance back to his feet, before brushing off his clothes, and searching for his escaped weapon. "Caught me again with that technique, Erik." he commented, after snatching his blade back up and sheathing it properly.
"Hardly a 'technique,' Soriel." the shorter, younger of the two responded, brushing off his shoulder a little, hardly a change in his expression. "You continue to loosen your grip right before impact. I simply take advantage." he said.
"Heh. Well, whatever it is, it's why the score's...what? 70-32?"
"I don't keep score."
Soriel rolled his eyes at that. "Of course you don't. That would be too fun for you, wouldn't it? Sir Serious, Order Knight Erik, so stoic even Golems think he needs to lighten up." he said theatrically, even adding a false bow for good measure.
"Our duty is to be taken seriously, Soriel. You know that."
"Of course I do, but we're soldiers, not drones. You seem to be the only one of the unit here that never does anything to relax, a little fun to unwind. When was the last time I treated you to a drink and a wench?" he said with a grin.
Erik's face flushed just slightly as he turned away from Soriel. "You mean when was the last time you forced me to partake of a drink and try to get me involved with a concubine? It was about two months ago. Shouldn't you be focused on your own 'needs' in any case?"
"I'm just concerned for my little buddy." Soriel replied, happily slinging his arm over Erik's shoulder and hanging off of him despite the size difference between them. "If I actually wanted to get involved with a little lady friend, I'd have little problem beyond their fathers. Every shop owner and innkeeper with a daughter has a pitchfork specially made for my backside because of how the ladies always seem to look my way." he said jovially.
Erik sighed in resignation, as the two began to exit the training room, footsteps echoing amongst the stone walls. "A man who would have his own harem, would the Chief God permit it." he murmured.
"Oh, don't act like you would be The Eternal Celibate if you were allowed. I seem to recall that half a year ago you had quite the relationship with Old Man Jeaug's little girl."
Before Erik could make any heated argument in return to that statement, the two turned a corner to the main hall, only to be accosted by a messenger, scroll in hand, as the youth nearly collided into them. With a quick salute, arm across chest as he bowed, the youth explained his presence to them. "Begging pardon for intrusion, sirs, but orders have been called out for A Unit to mobilize! It seems that there's been shifty movement outside the walls of the city, and they need you to investigate and make sure a monster invasion isn't imminent!"
Lightly pushing Soriel off of him, Erik made to adjust the light armor he wore, and nodded to the messenger. "Understood. Come on, Soriel, let's go."
---------------------
Moments later, Soriel, Erik, and the rest of the A Unit were outside the walls of Itoria, a regiment of seven of their best soldiers, trudging along lightly and warily, as the grassland immediately bordering their city gave way for the dry, almost dead forests to the north. Reports had come in of activity of as-of-yet-unrecognized movement beyond the borders, something different than the usual reports of Slimes and Arachne, so it was time for them to be called out to scout and gather info.
Erik marched firmly on, one hand poised near his scabbard, should he need to draw it at any time, while Soriel marched beside him, at a much more lax pace. "So, Erik, since we've probably got another good couple minutes before a couple of them jump out and try to violate us, have you ever thought about what it must be like to be inside those beasts?" he said, with a nudge and a lewd expression.
Erik remained stone-faced as he gave Soriel a small glance. "Hardly. I tend not to listen to drunken tales of carnal embrace with the beasts if I can manage." he said drily.
Soriel scoffed in return. "Travelers would never figure you'd come from Itoria with that sort of attitude. At least our orders are to relocate with our magic firsthand instead of just killing them. You have to admire them sometimes....they really know how to get men to love them, apparently..." he mused thoughtfully.
"...They destroy homes and families." Erik murmured, offering nothing beyond that, and Soriel took the hint to stay silent and simply walk alongside Erik and the rest of A Unit, waiting and observing...
A rustle to the right, and all of A Unit were already handling their blades in their hand, in response to the noise that they overheard, watching as the canopy of a tree that still had moderate foliage attached moved and twitched, before a form suddenly burst from the tree, followed by several more popping out from nearby trees. A Unit was able to grasp the feminine forms attached to wings of ebony plumage, before these newcomers made aerial dives in their directions.
"Black Harpies?" Erik queried, darting to the side to avoid an amorous-looking female as it swooped past, only for her to tackle a younger A Unit member behind him, knocking him off balance and setting him up to be clutched on either side by the talons of another. "Riet!" he said, attempting to head towards the captured soldier, but only to be blocked by a pair of two more Black Harpies who swooped by in front of him, delaying him enough that the boy was already lifted off the ground at the moment. "Kuh!" Gritting his teeth, he murmured a chant of the arcane language to help focus his spirit energy, and brought two fingers sliding slowly across the flat end of his blade, keeping it aimed on the diminishing aerial form. With a sudden quick sweep forward with his fingers, he let the focused spirit energy be channeled through his sword and launch outward from the tip as a bullet of air, an attempt to dislodge the girl's grip. Unaware of his attack, she was smacked across the back, and amidst a shout of pain and several lost feathers, Riet was released.
"Did you get Riet down?" Soriel queried, his back against Erik as he currently engaged another avian in a tug of war with his sword as the object to be struggled with. "I can direct everyone around here, but Riet's a newbie! Go find him, I'll hold down the fort!" he insisted, managing to throw the bird-woman off of him and moving away without giving Erik time to say anything to the contrary.
Mission accepted, Erik kept his grip firm on his blade as he lunged into the myriad of trees that Riet had descended somewhere into, calling out his name as he shoved aside branches and bushes. "Riet! Riet! Answer me, soldier!" he called out, struggling to find the specific spot Riet must have crashed into. After several moments of futile calling with no response, and pushing much foliage out of his path, he found his way to a clearing, a decently-sized opening of dirt and grass that once used to be fertile, perhaps. There in the distance, lie the prone form of Riet, finally discovered. Probably fallen unconscious from impact of the fall...he was rather high up, after all, Erik reasoned. Immediately dashing forward, Erik called out to Riet once more.
Halfway to the prone soldier, Erik was stopped as flames suddenly erupted from the ground in front of him, putting up a barrier between him and the prone soldier. The fire extended left and right too far to see, and as he turned to try another route, flames rose up from there, too, essentially blocking off all escape routes as he quickly found himself surrounded in a ring of fire. Hand firmly gripping his blade, he watched in trepidation as the fire went from its traditional red to a sickly, evil black color, and a noise besides the crackle of flames could be heard passing through the wind and into his ears.
Laughter. Soft laughter. Then a voice. "If you grip that hilt any tighter, you'll shatter it. I wonder if you haven't broken the women you've been with with such a firm, forceful grip." The voice was...melodic. Sensual. Dangerous. Erik felt an immediate urge to drop his sword, but his conscious wariness forced his hand to remain firm over whatever wiles were being weaved on his subconscious. Said weaver of mental alteration had finally decided to show herself, stepping through the flames, which parted to allow her shapely form to make its presence known.
Even from his distance from the woman, Erik was overwhelmed, by several factors. The subconscious desire to lay down his arms increased as he gazed at her, his mind fogging slightly as his eyes traveled across her body, starting at the bottom of her shapely legs, and working their way up slowly, lingering several times. Even while his eyes were forced to do an exploratory, he smelled something...unlike the smell of ash or other burnt debris that should, by all accounts, linger in the air, a sweet smell, almost sickeningly so, wafted from her direction, and by the time he met his own pale blue eyes with her crimson ones, his grip was beginning to falter. But then his gaze traveled further, and he laid eyes on her hair, the silvery locks that framed and fell against her shoulders and down to the demonic wings from her back. Silver hair. Silver hair....
Something about this fact snapped Erik out of his haze handily, as he swung his sword and reaffirmed his grip on the blade, pointing it at her. "Foul demon!" he spat in anger. "You..." he seethed, recalling the minimal info he had heard during all his years of training as an Order member. Itoria had limited information on the various species of monsters out there, but hair the color of platinum was one factor he recalled about this particular species. "...Lilim! Spawn of the Demon Lord herself!" he cried out, readying himself to strike.
"Oh, my, you know my kind, do you?" The Lilim responded with a light smile, one that held absolutely no malice. Only amusement seemed to be coloring her expression, something that inflamed Erik beyond his usual manner even more.
"All too well!" he shouted, launching forward, and aiming to strike the demonspawn wherever he could, preferably the heart. Unfortunately, mere seconds after he moved to strike, he was frozen in his spot, seemingly by some unseen force, until he saw the tail. The black, spade-tipped tail that mocked the heart symbol, pointed straight in his direction, too stiff and direct to not be deliberately manipulating and restraining him at the moment. "Kugh....ghh...!" he grunted out, teeth gritted and unable to properly vocalize the unkind things he wished to say.
With that same amused smile, the Lilim reached a hand out, and gently caressed his cheek, something he would have turned away from if it was possible, to avoid this pale imitation of an affectionate gesture, while the Lilim let out a soft, lyrical laugh. "My, such a violent person. Would you really be so aggressive if you didn't have that weapon to hide yourself behind?" she asked, making a gesture with her hand, and before Erik knew it, his trusted sword was slipped out of his grasp and hovered horizontally in front of him, between the Lilim and himself. The Lilim made another gesture, and with a pitiful sound of displaced air, the sword crumbled into dust, blown away by the wind before it could even pile on the ground. "Such a fragile piece of equipment...perhaps as a sign of goodwill, I should replace if for you?" she offered, her smile showing less kindness and more amusement as she made another small gesture with her hand.
From behind the demon's back, another blade rose, pointed end aimed at the ground. Erik watched as a blade of unparalleled silver greeted his gaze, but even without being a "gift" from a demon like the Lilim, the appearance would make him wary. The silver was too clean and shiny, and the hilt too polished and clean. Then the decorations of the blade's hilt, the jet-black color offset by the jagged symbols decorating it, clues to its demonic origin. And beside the blade, two small vertical lengths, as if the blade was taking stylistic additions from the sai, stood out, and Erik noted with disdain that, as a product of demonspawn, they looked vaguely phallic. Without his ability to resist, Erik was forced to receive this new "present," and the minute his fingers were made to grip the sword's handle, he felt a burning sensation pass throughout his entire body, as if he was made to bathe in the black fire that surrounded them.
With another light laugh, the Lilim gave his cheek a soft pat. "Now you'll find yourself less than able to do any harm to my sisters and brothers with this new blade. And do not think to simply discard this blade and move on. You fill find that it is quite...attached to you." she said, her amused smile growing even further. "No other blade will you find yourself able to properly wield, no other sword will your scabbard hold, until you have proven yourself." Uncertainty passed through Erik's eyes, to which she explained further. "You have great malice for me, do you not? I can see it, even now, in your eyes, you seek some sort of vengeance...in your eyes, perhaps justice. But, as you are...a simple human man, no greater...you could never even hope to match me. The blade I have given you is your only means to achieve such a power. A possibly-endless receptacle for spirit energy, it is...once it has displaced some demonic energy of its own to absorb another's spirit energy." Her eyes narrowed, alight with amusement as she continued this ultimatum. "Yes...if you ever hope to best me, and release this 'curse' that forces you to wield a sword that you will find useless against monsters...you will have to 'condemn' fellow humans to life as a monster." she finished.
Extending the gap between them just a little as she backed away, she held a single hand up in front of Erik's face, and Erik recognized the position her fingers were in, before she smiled and gave him a small farewell. "I will be waiting to see how you handle my test, young man..." she said, almost playfully, before she flicked his forehead. So full of power and demonic energy she must have been, that the single, child-like gesture sent Erik flying, watching helplessly as the clearing vanished into the distance ahead as he traveled quickly backwards, the flames and demon vanishing just before the clearing did, before Erik felt a sharp, intense pain all across his back, and everything vanished into a sea of unconsciousness.
The nod is returned, and the mystery figure straightens herself from her prone position against the stone wall behind, raising a single, thin arm, and holds an open palm forward. From in front of this outstretched hand, a black orb begins to grow in midair, until the size of it eclipses the average torso of any human being. The Cyclops gazes at the orb, then at its creator, before taking the sword and adjusting her grip, before plunging it, to the hilt, into the ebony sphere before her, letting it remain there, as the other figure flexed her sinewy fingers, and the orb began to shrink, a reverse of its creation, vanishing in short time, seemingly absorbed into the newly-forged weapon. Once the process is complete, the Cyclops gazes again at the length of enchanted metal, looking her reflection in the eye, reaching to touch the blade once more...
"Ah!" Immediately on touching it, the Cyclops's hand retreats, and her breath catches in her throat. But the noise and expression that followed her experimental touch was not one of pain, but of something decidedly more pleasant. Her lips curve into a small smile, as she clears her throat and tries to regain her previous stoic composure. "Madame, the process was a success. It shall serve exactly as you intend it."
The deep red lips of the "Madame" have curved into a sensuous smile as she takes the blade from the single-eyed blacksmith. The woman's silver-haired visage reflects in the enchanted blade as she appraises it with her crimson eyes. "Yes...quite nice, indeed. This will be most entertaining to watch, for all involved. Mother will be pleased; more of them will join the fold of my brothers and sisters...more will be shown the happiness she promises....and I will see if one of those silly little cultists can pass my 'test' and learn of his own foolishness." She continued to muse over the silver sword, before turning with it in hand, hair billowing behind her sinuously as she left the Cyclops behind in silence. "Now, let us see who best qualifies for this rite of passage..." she said with a smile.
------------------
Steel clashed against steel as blade met blade, before two men pulled back, only to rush forward to strike metal against metal once again. Alone in the room together, the two allies trained their swordsmanship against each other, as they so often did, their appearance matching the style of their attacks. The taller one struck with more speed, more vigor, all with a healthy smile upon his face as he retaliated against all the calculated, concentrated strikes of his stone-faced sparring partner. Overhead swings met sideways swipes, which clashed against forward lunges, as the two continued to match each other in skill, until finally, it was time for someone to give. The happier of the two struck high, only to be met with a glancing blow to the tip of his blade, rebounding it backwards, allowing the smaller of the two to hunker himself and push forward, knocking into him with his shoulder and sending him to the floor, losing his grip on his sword, which skidded away across the stone floor.
The practice battle over, the victor tucked his blade back into its sheathe, before offering his hand to help his partner up. With a chuckle and a rub of the back of his head, the loser accepted the assistance back to his feet, before brushing off his clothes, and searching for his escaped weapon. "Caught me again with that technique, Erik." he commented, after snatching his blade back up and sheathing it properly.
"Hardly a 'technique,' Soriel." the shorter, younger of the two responded, brushing off his shoulder a little, hardly a change in his expression. "You continue to loosen your grip right before impact. I simply take advantage." he said.
"Heh. Well, whatever it is, it's why the score's...what? 70-32?"
"I don't keep score."
Soriel rolled his eyes at that. "Of course you don't. That would be too fun for you, wouldn't it? Sir Serious, Order Knight Erik, so stoic even Golems think he needs to lighten up." he said theatrically, even adding a false bow for good measure.
"Our duty is to be taken seriously, Soriel. You know that."
"Of course I do, but we're soldiers, not drones. You seem to be the only one of the unit here that never does anything to relax, a little fun to unwind. When was the last time I treated you to a drink and a wench?" he said with a grin.
Erik's face flushed just slightly as he turned away from Soriel. "You mean when was the last time you forced me to partake of a drink and try to get me involved with a concubine? It was about two months ago. Shouldn't you be focused on your own 'needs' in any case?"
"I'm just concerned for my little buddy." Soriel replied, happily slinging his arm over Erik's shoulder and hanging off of him despite the size difference between them. "If I actually wanted to get involved with a little lady friend, I'd have little problem beyond their fathers. Every shop owner and innkeeper with a daughter has a pitchfork specially made for my backside because of how the ladies always seem to look my way." he said jovially.
Erik sighed in resignation, as the two began to exit the training room, footsteps echoing amongst the stone walls. "A man who would have his own harem, would the Chief God permit it." he murmured.
"Oh, don't act like you would be The Eternal Celibate if you were allowed. I seem to recall that half a year ago you had quite the relationship with Old Man Jeaug's little girl."
Before Erik could make any heated argument in return to that statement, the two turned a corner to the main hall, only to be accosted by a messenger, scroll in hand, as the youth nearly collided into them. With a quick salute, arm across chest as he bowed, the youth explained his presence to them. "Begging pardon for intrusion, sirs, but orders have been called out for A Unit to mobilize! It seems that there's been shifty movement outside the walls of the city, and they need you to investigate and make sure a monster invasion isn't imminent!"
Lightly pushing Soriel off of him, Erik made to adjust the light armor he wore, and nodded to the messenger. "Understood. Come on, Soriel, let's go."
---------------------
Moments later, Soriel, Erik, and the rest of the A Unit were outside the walls of Itoria, a regiment of seven of their best soldiers, trudging along lightly and warily, as the grassland immediately bordering their city gave way for the dry, almost dead forests to the north. Reports had come in of activity of as-of-yet-unrecognized movement beyond the borders, something different than the usual reports of Slimes and Arachne, so it was time for them to be called out to scout and gather info.
Erik marched firmly on, one hand poised near his scabbard, should he need to draw it at any time, while Soriel marched beside him, at a much more lax pace. "So, Erik, since we've probably got another good couple minutes before a couple of them jump out and try to violate us, have you ever thought about what it must be like to be inside those beasts?" he said, with a nudge and a lewd expression.
Erik remained stone-faced as he gave Soriel a small glance. "Hardly. I tend not to listen to drunken tales of carnal embrace with the beasts if I can manage." he said drily.
Soriel scoffed in return. "Travelers would never figure you'd come from Itoria with that sort of attitude. At least our orders are to relocate with our magic firsthand instead of just killing them. You have to admire them sometimes....they really know how to get men to love them, apparently..." he mused thoughtfully.
"...They destroy homes and families." Erik murmured, offering nothing beyond that, and Soriel took the hint to stay silent and simply walk alongside Erik and the rest of A Unit, waiting and observing...
A rustle to the right, and all of A Unit were already handling their blades in their hand, in response to the noise that they overheard, watching as the canopy of a tree that still had moderate foliage attached moved and twitched, before a form suddenly burst from the tree, followed by several more popping out from nearby trees. A Unit was able to grasp the feminine forms attached to wings of ebony plumage, before these newcomers made aerial dives in their directions.
"Black Harpies?" Erik queried, darting to the side to avoid an amorous-looking female as it swooped past, only for her to tackle a younger A Unit member behind him, knocking him off balance and setting him up to be clutched on either side by the talons of another. "Riet!" he said, attempting to head towards the captured soldier, but only to be blocked by a pair of two more Black Harpies who swooped by in front of him, delaying him enough that the boy was already lifted off the ground at the moment. "Kuh!" Gritting his teeth, he murmured a chant of the arcane language to help focus his spirit energy, and brought two fingers sliding slowly across the flat end of his blade, keeping it aimed on the diminishing aerial form. With a sudden quick sweep forward with his fingers, he let the focused spirit energy be channeled through his sword and launch outward from the tip as a bullet of air, an attempt to dislodge the girl's grip. Unaware of his attack, she was smacked across the back, and amidst a shout of pain and several lost feathers, Riet was released.
"Did you get Riet down?" Soriel queried, his back against Erik as he currently engaged another avian in a tug of war with his sword as the object to be struggled with. "I can direct everyone around here, but Riet's a newbie! Go find him, I'll hold down the fort!" he insisted, managing to throw the bird-woman off of him and moving away without giving Erik time to say anything to the contrary.
Mission accepted, Erik kept his grip firm on his blade as he lunged into the myriad of trees that Riet had descended somewhere into, calling out his name as he shoved aside branches and bushes. "Riet! Riet! Answer me, soldier!" he called out, struggling to find the specific spot Riet must have crashed into. After several moments of futile calling with no response, and pushing much foliage out of his path, he found his way to a clearing, a decently-sized opening of dirt and grass that once used to be fertile, perhaps. There in the distance, lie the prone form of Riet, finally discovered. Probably fallen unconscious from impact of the fall...he was rather high up, after all, Erik reasoned. Immediately dashing forward, Erik called out to Riet once more.
Halfway to the prone soldier, Erik was stopped as flames suddenly erupted from the ground in front of him, putting up a barrier between him and the prone soldier. The fire extended left and right too far to see, and as he turned to try another route, flames rose up from there, too, essentially blocking off all escape routes as he quickly found himself surrounded in a ring of fire. Hand firmly gripping his blade, he watched in trepidation as the fire went from its traditional red to a sickly, evil black color, and a noise besides the crackle of flames could be heard passing through the wind and into his ears.
Laughter. Soft laughter. Then a voice. "If you grip that hilt any tighter, you'll shatter it. I wonder if you haven't broken the women you've been with with such a firm, forceful grip." The voice was...melodic. Sensual. Dangerous. Erik felt an immediate urge to drop his sword, but his conscious wariness forced his hand to remain firm over whatever wiles were being weaved on his subconscious. Said weaver of mental alteration had finally decided to show herself, stepping through the flames, which parted to allow her shapely form to make its presence known.
Even from his distance from the woman, Erik was overwhelmed, by several factors. The subconscious desire to lay down his arms increased as he gazed at her, his mind fogging slightly as his eyes traveled across her body, starting at the bottom of her shapely legs, and working their way up slowly, lingering several times. Even while his eyes were forced to do an exploratory, he smelled something...unlike the smell of ash or other burnt debris that should, by all accounts, linger in the air, a sweet smell, almost sickeningly so, wafted from her direction, and by the time he met his own pale blue eyes with her crimson ones, his grip was beginning to falter. But then his gaze traveled further, and he laid eyes on her hair, the silvery locks that framed and fell against her shoulders and down to the demonic wings from her back. Silver hair. Silver hair....
Something about this fact snapped Erik out of his haze handily, as he swung his sword and reaffirmed his grip on the blade, pointing it at her. "Foul demon!" he spat in anger. "You..." he seethed, recalling the minimal info he had heard during all his years of training as an Order member. Itoria had limited information on the various species of monsters out there, but hair the color of platinum was one factor he recalled about this particular species. "...Lilim! Spawn of the Demon Lord herself!" he cried out, readying himself to strike.
"Oh, my, you know my kind, do you?" The Lilim responded with a light smile, one that held absolutely no malice. Only amusement seemed to be coloring her expression, something that inflamed Erik beyond his usual manner even more.
"All too well!" he shouted, launching forward, and aiming to strike the demonspawn wherever he could, preferably the heart. Unfortunately, mere seconds after he moved to strike, he was frozen in his spot, seemingly by some unseen force, until he saw the tail. The black, spade-tipped tail that mocked the heart symbol, pointed straight in his direction, too stiff and direct to not be deliberately manipulating and restraining him at the moment. "Kugh....ghh...!" he grunted out, teeth gritted and unable to properly vocalize the unkind things he wished to say.
With that same amused smile, the Lilim reached a hand out, and gently caressed his cheek, something he would have turned away from if it was possible, to avoid this pale imitation of an affectionate gesture, while the Lilim let out a soft, lyrical laugh. "My, such a violent person. Would you really be so aggressive if you didn't have that weapon to hide yourself behind?" she asked, making a gesture with her hand, and before Erik knew it, his trusted sword was slipped out of his grasp and hovered horizontally in front of him, between the Lilim and himself. The Lilim made another gesture, and with a pitiful sound of displaced air, the sword crumbled into dust, blown away by the wind before it could even pile on the ground. "Such a fragile piece of equipment...perhaps as a sign of goodwill, I should replace if for you?" she offered, her smile showing less kindness and more amusement as she made another small gesture with her hand.
From behind the demon's back, another blade rose, pointed end aimed at the ground. Erik watched as a blade of unparalleled silver greeted his gaze, but even without being a "gift" from a demon like the Lilim, the appearance would make him wary. The silver was too clean and shiny, and the hilt too polished and clean. Then the decorations of the blade's hilt, the jet-black color offset by the jagged symbols decorating it, clues to its demonic origin. And beside the blade, two small vertical lengths, as if the blade was taking stylistic additions from the sai, stood out, and Erik noted with disdain that, as a product of demonspawn, they looked vaguely phallic. Without his ability to resist, Erik was forced to receive this new "present," and the minute his fingers were made to grip the sword's handle, he felt a burning sensation pass throughout his entire body, as if he was made to bathe in the black fire that surrounded them.
With another light laugh, the Lilim gave his cheek a soft pat. "Now you'll find yourself less than able to do any harm to my sisters and brothers with this new blade. And do not think to simply discard this blade and move on. You fill find that it is quite...attached to you." she said, her amused smile growing even further. "No other blade will you find yourself able to properly wield, no other sword will your scabbard hold, until you have proven yourself." Uncertainty passed through Erik's eyes, to which she explained further. "You have great malice for me, do you not? I can see it, even now, in your eyes, you seek some sort of vengeance...in your eyes, perhaps justice. But, as you are...a simple human man, no greater...you could never even hope to match me. The blade I have given you is your only means to achieve such a power. A possibly-endless receptacle for spirit energy, it is...once it has displaced some demonic energy of its own to absorb another's spirit energy." Her eyes narrowed, alight with amusement as she continued this ultimatum. "Yes...if you ever hope to best me, and release this 'curse' that forces you to wield a sword that you will find useless against monsters...you will have to 'condemn' fellow humans to life as a monster." she finished.
Extending the gap between them just a little as she backed away, she held a single hand up in front of Erik's face, and Erik recognized the position her fingers were in, before she smiled and gave him a small farewell. "I will be waiting to see how you handle my test, young man..." she said, almost playfully, before she flicked his forehead. So full of power and demonic energy she must have been, that the single, child-like gesture sent Erik flying, watching helplessly as the clearing vanished into the distance ahead as he traveled quickly backwards, the flames and demon vanishing just before the clearing did, before Erik felt a sharp, intense pain all across his back, and everything vanished into a sea of unconsciousness.
Chapter 2
Spoiler: show
Erik was in a haze...he couldn't see...his eyes were open, but he couldn't see...his body felt heavy, he couldn't move...but he could hear...he wasn't alone...a familiar voice rang out amidst the darkness, bringing a cold chill through his body, a striking sensation against the dull numbness he felt...
"...No....without him, I...."
Erik tried to reach out, futilely, his body unresponsive to his efforts.
"...could never compare....silver-haired vixen..."
Erik mouthed silently, his voice unable to utter the single word, no matter how many times, silently mouthing a feeble plea. No....No....!
"...Goodbye....Erik...."
---------------
Erike shot up with a gasp, his hand outstretched to grasp at a presence that was no longer there...a presence that had not been there at all, not for a long time. His breath came in short gasps, as his consciousness finally allowed him to feel, the first feeling to be met being the pain across his back, as he tried to right himself.
"Whoa, whoa...easy there, Erik. You've been out for a good couple hours, don't push yourself." came a familiar voice, causing Erik to turn while still on his knees, giving him the chance to survey the area, seeing that he was still in the dry woods area around Itoria, where he had been accosted...last he remembered happening. His post-catatonic mind was still needing to readjust itself. His eyes beheld a familiar face. Soriel's bright orange eyes gazed back at him, his ally still clad in his armor while seated on a nearby overturned tree trunk. "I tell ya, I don't know what happened to ya out there, but ripping you out of a tree like that....I'm surprised you woke up this soon." Soriel commented.
"Ripping...?" Erik repeated, and Soriel simply pointed behind him. Erik turned, and saw a single large oak with a huge, deep oval dent in it.
"What the hell happened, man?" Soriel inquired. "Riet comes back panicking without you, and I run off and find you stuck in a tree, and clutching onto some freaky new sword?" he said, concern clearly evident in his voice, a rare juxtaposition to his usual attitude.
"Sword..." Erik repeated, then gazed into his right hand. Unfortunately, what lay within proved that the events before his lapse in consciousness weren't a hallucination or dream. Held in his gauntlet-covered fingers was the pitch-black hilt of that strange sword he had been "gifted" with prior. The sight of it made his chest tighten with trepidation.
"What's up with that thing, anyway?" Soriel asked, marching over to Erik and offering him a hand up. Once on his feet, and after a moment to make sure he was steady, Soriel pointed at the offending blade. "You were clutching that thing pretty hard, and I couldn't pry it away from you. And when I tried..." he trailed off, and showed off his other hand, palm up, to show the burn that had pierced through the thin leather of Soriel's gloves, and even reddened the skin beneath. "...damn thing's temperamental or something." Soriel said dryly, putting his hand away.
Erik stayed silent, glancing at the sword again before dropping it, letting the sword clang dully onto the dirt. "...it's nothing." he said dismissively, intending to delay the explanation of what happened for as long as he could. Though from the look Soriel gave him, he figured it wouldn't be long before he'd have to divulge what had happened to him. "Is Riet OK?" he said, diverting the topic for the moment, remembering why he had separated from A Unit in the first place.
Soriel nodded in response. "Kid's a little shook up from the fall, but he's fine." he said. His non-burned hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, ruffling a little bit of his short brown hair in the process. "We all bid a retreat and the Harpies let up, but...we lost Biggs." he said, frowning.
"Biggs?" Erik said in shock. "...Damn it. He was going to move to the sea in a month's time." He said, fingers clenching in aggravation.
Soriel nodded, still frowning. "When Riet got back and I had to give the order for a retreat, the Harpies made one last lunge. Biggs pushed Wedge out of the way and got himself carried off by a pair of triplets. With one carrying him, and one on his front and one on his back, nobody could line up a decent air bullet to get 'em off of him. You're the best marksman of the group, after all." Erik turned away from Soriel at that comment, prompting Soriel to hastily try to rectify his mistake. "H-Hey, that's not what I meant buddy! C'mon, you know I never mean to say things like that. Heaven knows I don't need to alienate my best buddy." he said hastily, plastering another smile on his face and stepping in front of Erik's line of sight. "C'mon, you know the stories. Biggs was a lonely guy; maybe he'll end up happy. It's one of them big fantasies for men, having triplets in the sack, right? The guys in C Unit certainly seem to think so, if you've heard their bar stories." he said, waving his hand in front of Erik's face to get his attention and alleviate his tension.
Erik simply responded by giving him a blank stare, before tilting his head in the direction that (he assumed) Itoria was in. "Let's go back, Soriel. I'm sure there are reports that need to be filed." he said brusquely, turning away. Soriel, momentarily disappointed that his jocularity had failed to crack a smile, gave a shrug and followed. The two walked alongside each other and back into the brush, Erik stopping just a moment to turn and gaze at the weapon he had left laying on the dirt in the small clearing. With a short glare at the metal, he turned to continue away from the blasted thing....
...Before gasping as his body was wracked with pain, a burning sensation that passed through his body, like electricity and fire both combined to course through his veins. Immediately he collapsed to his knees, gasping out ragged breaths that weren't nearly enough to fill his lungs. Soriel, seeing his ally fall like that, was immediately at his side. "Erik? Erik, what's wrong, man?!" he said, quickly taking hold of Erik and trying to help him back to his feet. Even as he gasped for breath, a single line flashed through Erik's mind, and it was as if the being who had come before him earlier was right there, speaking in his ear...
And do not think to simply discard this blade and move on. You fill find that it is quite...attached to you.
Teeth gritted in frustration, Erik gestured weakly in the direction they had come from, gasping out a few minor words to clue Soriel in. "Back...sword...there...." Soriel needed little more motivation, and dragged the suddenly-sickly friend of his back into the small clearing. Immediately once they had gotten closer, the pain within Erik's body began to recede, his breath and strength returning to him again, more and more as he neared the discarded weapon. Standing shakily over it, he glared down at it, as if he could somehow destroy the blade with a simple angry expression. Reluctantly, he stooped over to seize the handle of this accursed new weapon, disturbed by how form-fitted for his grip it seemed to be.
No sooner had he gripped the weapon and stood up that he found himself face-to-face with something new. He had been so focused on the sword he hadn't noticed the noise, or the shadow of someone approaching from an entirely different direction than Soriel was positioned. The face that greeted him was youthful...child-like, even, with short purple hair with two streaks of silvery-gray running through parallel to each other. While the form and face were ones of petite innocence, the smile she had and the extra features...wings and a tail...suggested something much more sinister.
"Well, well...I feel a whole bunch of demonic energy from around here, and what do I find? A big blue boy ready for some fun~" she "girl" said with a playful glint in her eye, as she reached over to run her hair through the blue hair atop Erik's head. Before she had a chance, though, Soriel was there, swinging his sword down and making her retreat, blocking Erik from her reach.
"Oh, sorry there, Miss. But didn't your mother teach you never to talk to strangers? Or to molest them?" he said, smiling even though his stance suggested total seriousness.
"Heh. Mom taught me all about her raping techniques; you'd be begging her for mercy if she were here. Me? I'll just make you scream a little before I have you underneath me." she said maliciously, crackling a little black energy between her fingers. "And then Big Blue is mine~"
'An....Imp?' Erik thought to himself. Itoria's facilities and records of various monsters mentioned little of denizens seen in direct service of the Demon Lord herself, and unfortunately for his situation, Imps were one that had little record beyond an enjoyment of pain.
"Sorry, but I'm what they call quality control." Soriel quipped with a smirk. "Nobody touches my precious little Erik without going through me~" he said, mimicking the Imp's false-innocence in tone.
This seemed to make the Imp lose her patience with the playful and nice act, a theory backed up by the increase in crackling energy between her fingers. "Not a bad idea. I love teaching people a little lesson!" she said, thrusting one hand forth and letting the energy loose, like little bolts of lightning, to which Soriel leaped away from and responded by charging at the little demon.
Erik watched, still gathering his strength and unable to battle, especially with his only weapon being the sword that, since the Lilim had apparently been truthful in all regards, would be useless in stopping this little creature. Stuck there, he could only bear witness as Soriel defended him like he would always promise to do. Soriel was a strong man, a quick combatant, with good reason for being a member of A Unit.
Unfortunately, since their typical fair of monsters to deal with consisted of monsters with only physical problems to take care of, a foe with magical powers was something neither of them was used to. The little jolts of energy were easy enough for Soriel to dodge nimbly, but when he was on the offensive, he failed, and at first, Erik did as well, to notice that the foe they were facing was a tricky little beast. After knocking her aside at one point, Soriel didn't notice the awkward way she picked herself up, constantly keeping a single hand on the ground while muttering what the men assumed was vulgarities anyone with her appearance shouldn't know.
It wasn't until a second too late, and several dodged volleys of makeshift lightning, that Erik spotted a dull glow at the same spot, which Soriel was at the moment being unwittingly directed to...
"Soriel!" he cried out, getting to his feet just in time to watch Soriel's foot meet the marked ground, and watch as he stiffened while several arcs of the dark energy coursed around and through him, knocking him to the ground.
With Soriel down, the little Imp simply laughed at his plight. "That's what ya get for messin' with me!" she said, taunting him in the most childish of ways, before turning to Erik, whose grip tightened around the sword reflexively. "Now, I think you and I have some unfinished business, Big Blue~" she said, sauntering over to him as if she was a wench of much greater figure.
Erik took a step back for each step closer she got, wishing he could do something with his sword. In desperation, he tried the earlier technique he used to knock away the Black Harpy making off with Riet. Focusing and sliding his fingers across the tainted blade, he shot a bullet of air in her direction, but the Imp reacted with enough speed and finesse to simply deflect it, knocking loose a branch of a tree in the distance. It seemed this blade still could allow his use of magic, but in no better capacity than his old blade. Utterly useless in his current situation.
"Don't worry...it'll only hurt for just a little bit, then it feels gooood~" she teased, licking her lips and letting a little of that same energy jump from finger to finger...
Unfortunately for her, Soriel was not a downed soldier, having gotten to his feet and returned, grabbing the Imp from behind. In shock, the Imp cursed and shot off a bolt at random, nearly striking Erik, while she struggled in Soriel's grip. "Let...me...go...!" she demanded.
"Oh, trust me, if I didn't think it necessary, I wouldn't be touching you." Soriel shot back. His grip was focused on the struggling girl, obviously more powerful than she looked. "Erik, the spell! Send her off!" he insisted, nodding at Erik.
Erik returned the nod, and began to focus his energy, muttering the words to the spell. It was a simple enough magic, designed for the less violent sects of the Order, to act as, in essence, a teleportation spell with no set location, only a range. It would send off the target to a random spot somewhere within range of this spot, barring any place such as Itoria which had charms set to deflect this sort of thing. Trying hard to focus, Erik kept his gaze on the struggling girl in Soriel's grip, noting something amiss.
Her hand was glowing. No, both of them were glowing. And her struggles were getting more violent. "Grr...! I know your type, and if you're gonna be that much of a pain...Then I'll just drop you now and get the hell out of here!" she cried out, building energy.
Erik's eyes widened, his concentration disrupted. 'She means to kill him? Soriel!' he thought, his mind working furiously to try and set the spell further in motion. But the spell required some time to build the energy, and the Imp was gathering her magic at a much quicker rate. Erik's gaze lingered over at Soriel, who just gave him a smile and a nod even while he held her. 'No...The spell will take too long at this rate...' Erik thought, futilely trying to concentrate harder, to speak the words faster, but the energy buildup within was still heading along at too small a rate.
The Imp had already finished. With all the energy she could apparently mustered, she literally held an orb of crackling energy in her hands, and raised it, getting ready to plunge it downward and back to whatever part of Soriel she could reach...
Erik watched as the orb descended...and went further...
"No!" was the only word he uttered as, in desperation at losing his best friend from his occupation, he cut the chant and buildup off, instead choosing to take the stupid sword he had been cursed with, and plunging it into the Imp's stomach with full force. The force and quickness of his thrust was so much that it passed through the Imp and into Soriel as well....a fact Erik was loathe to admit he knew would happen, and by his own hand he initiated what happened next....
The Imp screamed...a primal howl pierced the air as the sword began to glow and burn within Erik's grip...the orb of energy burst out, focus lost, the energy crackling and slashing at outward trees and severing several branches and trunks from their base...Soriel gasped as he felt the plunge of a sword in him, looking at Erik, who scarcely wanted to look at him...Soriel's grip fell away, and Erik pulled his sword back and let the Imp fall, eyes glazed over...
The sword continued to burn and pulse in his hand, and Erik felt something change about it, something beneath his grip was altered. It had more of a presence than before, and Erik recalled the Lilim's words about the sword's way of gathering strength. But Erik wasn't occupied with that, but rather with what was happening to his best friend...
Soriel's orange eyes, bright and energetic, darkened slightly as the moment went on, until they were quite nearly golden. His hair, brown and normally unkempt, smoothed out and laid itself flatter against his head. His skin deepened in tone, as if he was getting a few years' worth of tanning in only a matter of seconds. His frame grew, granting him a few more muscles and making his frame no longer so lanky. Before his eyes, Soriel transformed into...something different.
When the burn of his sword subsided, so too did the temporary stun on Soriel's control of his body, and his transformation. Soriel gasped, and gazed at his hands, his arms, the rest of his body. He felt his face, and his hair, and blinked at Erik for a moment.
"Erik...What did you do to me?" he asked.
"...Kuh...!" Those words ripped through Erik like he had been the one stabbed with a blade, and faced with the act he had just committed to his best friend, he did the one thing that any normal person would be shocked to hear an Order member do...
He ran.
Ignoring Soriel's call of his name, he turned and ran, completely opposite of the direction his home of Itoria would lay. He shoved branches and foliage aside, or simply ran through them and let them lash him if they so wished. He simply ran. And ran. And ran.
And he never looked back. How could he?
"...No....without him, I...."
Erik tried to reach out, futilely, his body unresponsive to his efforts.
"...could never compare....silver-haired vixen..."
Erik mouthed silently, his voice unable to utter the single word, no matter how many times, silently mouthing a feeble plea. No....No....!
"...Goodbye....Erik...."
---------------
Erike shot up with a gasp, his hand outstretched to grasp at a presence that was no longer there...a presence that had not been there at all, not for a long time. His breath came in short gasps, as his consciousness finally allowed him to feel, the first feeling to be met being the pain across his back, as he tried to right himself.
"Whoa, whoa...easy there, Erik. You've been out for a good couple hours, don't push yourself." came a familiar voice, causing Erik to turn while still on his knees, giving him the chance to survey the area, seeing that he was still in the dry woods area around Itoria, where he had been accosted...last he remembered happening. His post-catatonic mind was still needing to readjust itself. His eyes beheld a familiar face. Soriel's bright orange eyes gazed back at him, his ally still clad in his armor while seated on a nearby overturned tree trunk. "I tell ya, I don't know what happened to ya out there, but ripping you out of a tree like that....I'm surprised you woke up this soon." Soriel commented.
"Ripping...?" Erik repeated, and Soriel simply pointed behind him. Erik turned, and saw a single large oak with a huge, deep oval dent in it.
"What the hell happened, man?" Soriel inquired. "Riet comes back panicking without you, and I run off and find you stuck in a tree, and clutching onto some freaky new sword?" he said, concern clearly evident in his voice, a rare juxtaposition to his usual attitude.
"Sword..." Erik repeated, then gazed into his right hand. Unfortunately, what lay within proved that the events before his lapse in consciousness weren't a hallucination or dream. Held in his gauntlet-covered fingers was the pitch-black hilt of that strange sword he had been "gifted" with prior. The sight of it made his chest tighten with trepidation.
"What's up with that thing, anyway?" Soriel asked, marching over to Erik and offering him a hand up. Once on his feet, and after a moment to make sure he was steady, Soriel pointed at the offending blade. "You were clutching that thing pretty hard, and I couldn't pry it away from you. And when I tried..." he trailed off, and showed off his other hand, palm up, to show the burn that had pierced through the thin leather of Soriel's gloves, and even reddened the skin beneath. "...damn thing's temperamental or something." Soriel said dryly, putting his hand away.
Erik stayed silent, glancing at the sword again before dropping it, letting the sword clang dully onto the dirt. "...it's nothing." he said dismissively, intending to delay the explanation of what happened for as long as he could. Though from the look Soriel gave him, he figured it wouldn't be long before he'd have to divulge what had happened to him. "Is Riet OK?" he said, diverting the topic for the moment, remembering why he had separated from A Unit in the first place.
Soriel nodded in response. "Kid's a little shook up from the fall, but he's fine." he said. His non-burned hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, ruffling a little bit of his short brown hair in the process. "We all bid a retreat and the Harpies let up, but...we lost Biggs." he said, frowning.
"Biggs?" Erik said in shock. "...Damn it. He was going to move to the sea in a month's time." He said, fingers clenching in aggravation.
Soriel nodded, still frowning. "When Riet got back and I had to give the order for a retreat, the Harpies made one last lunge. Biggs pushed Wedge out of the way and got himself carried off by a pair of triplets. With one carrying him, and one on his front and one on his back, nobody could line up a decent air bullet to get 'em off of him. You're the best marksman of the group, after all." Erik turned away from Soriel at that comment, prompting Soriel to hastily try to rectify his mistake. "H-Hey, that's not what I meant buddy! C'mon, you know I never mean to say things like that. Heaven knows I don't need to alienate my best buddy." he said hastily, plastering another smile on his face and stepping in front of Erik's line of sight. "C'mon, you know the stories. Biggs was a lonely guy; maybe he'll end up happy. It's one of them big fantasies for men, having triplets in the sack, right? The guys in C Unit certainly seem to think so, if you've heard their bar stories." he said, waving his hand in front of Erik's face to get his attention and alleviate his tension.
Erik simply responded by giving him a blank stare, before tilting his head in the direction that (he assumed) Itoria was in. "Let's go back, Soriel. I'm sure there are reports that need to be filed." he said brusquely, turning away. Soriel, momentarily disappointed that his jocularity had failed to crack a smile, gave a shrug and followed. The two walked alongside each other and back into the brush, Erik stopping just a moment to turn and gaze at the weapon he had left laying on the dirt in the small clearing. With a short glare at the metal, he turned to continue away from the blasted thing....
...Before gasping as his body was wracked with pain, a burning sensation that passed through his body, like electricity and fire both combined to course through his veins. Immediately he collapsed to his knees, gasping out ragged breaths that weren't nearly enough to fill his lungs. Soriel, seeing his ally fall like that, was immediately at his side. "Erik? Erik, what's wrong, man?!" he said, quickly taking hold of Erik and trying to help him back to his feet. Even as he gasped for breath, a single line flashed through Erik's mind, and it was as if the being who had come before him earlier was right there, speaking in his ear...
And do not think to simply discard this blade and move on. You fill find that it is quite...attached to you.
Teeth gritted in frustration, Erik gestured weakly in the direction they had come from, gasping out a few minor words to clue Soriel in. "Back...sword...there...." Soriel needed little more motivation, and dragged the suddenly-sickly friend of his back into the small clearing. Immediately once they had gotten closer, the pain within Erik's body began to recede, his breath and strength returning to him again, more and more as he neared the discarded weapon. Standing shakily over it, he glared down at it, as if he could somehow destroy the blade with a simple angry expression. Reluctantly, he stooped over to seize the handle of this accursed new weapon, disturbed by how form-fitted for his grip it seemed to be.
No sooner had he gripped the weapon and stood up that he found himself face-to-face with something new. He had been so focused on the sword he hadn't noticed the noise, or the shadow of someone approaching from an entirely different direction than Soriel was positioned. The face that greeted him was youthful...child-like, even, with short purple hair with two streaks of silvery-gray running through parallel to each other. While the form and face were ones of petite innocence, the smile she had and the extra features...wings and a tail...suggested something much more sinister.
"Well, well...I feel a whole bunch of demonic energy from around here, and what do I find? A big blue boy ready for some fun~" she "girl" said with a playful glint in her eye, as she reached over to run her hair through the blue hair atop Erik's head. Before she had a chance, though, Soriel was there, swinging his sword down and making her retreat, blocking Erik from her reach.
"Oh, sorry there, Miss. But didn't your mother teach you never to talk to strangers? Or to molest them?" he said, smiling even though his stance suggested total seriousness.
"Heh. Mom taught me all about her raping techniques; you'd be begging her for mercy if she were here. Me? I'll just make you scream a little before I have you underneath me." she said maliciously, crackling a little black energy between her fingers. "And then Big Blue is mine~"
'An....Imp?' Erik thought to himself. Itoria's facilities and records of various monsters mentioned little of denizens seen in direct service of the Demon Lord herself, and unfortunately for his situation, Imps were one that had little record beyond an enjoyment of pain.
"Sorry, but I'm what they call quality control." Soriel quipped with a smirk. "Nobody touches my precious little Erik without going through me~" he said, mimicking the Imp's false-innocence in tone.
This seemed to make the Imp lose her patience with the playful and nice act, a theory backed up by the increase in crackling energy between her fingers. "Not a bad idea. I love teaching people a little lesson!" she said, thrusting one hand forth and letting the energy loose, like little bolts of lightning, to which Soriel leaped away from and responded by charging at the little demon.
Erik watched, still gathering his strength and unable to battle, especially with his only weapon being the sword that, since the Lilim had apparently been truthful in all regards, would be useless in stopping this little creature. Stuck there, he could only bear witness as Soriel defended him like he would always promise to do. Soriel was a strong man, a quick combatant, with good reason for being a member of A Unit.
Unfortunately, since their typical fair of monsters to deal with consisted of monsters with only physical problems to take care of, a foe with magical powers was something neither of them was used to. The little jolts of energy were easy enough for Soriel to dodge nimbly, but when he was on the offensive, he failed, and at first, Erik did as well, to notice that the foe they were facing was a tricky little beast. After knocking her aside at one point, Soriel didn't notice the awkward way she picked herself up, constantly keeping a single hand on the ground while muttering what the men assumed was vulgarities anyone with her appearance shouldn't know.
It wasn't until a second too late, and several dodged volleys of makeshift lightning, that Erik spotted a dull glow at the same spot, which Soriel was at the moment being unwittingly directed to...
"Soriel!" he cried out, getting to his feet just in time to watch Soriel's foot meet the marked ground, and watch as he stiffened while several arcs of the dark energy coursed around and through him, knocking him to the ground.
With Soriel down, the little Imp simply laughed at his plight. "That's what ya get for messin' with me!" she said, taunting him in the most childish of ways, before turning to Erik, whose grip tightened around the sword reflexively. "Now, I think you and I have some unfinished business, Big Blue~" she said, sauntering over to him as if she was a wench of much greater figure.
Erik took a step back for each step closer she got, wishing he could do something with his sword. In desperation, he tried the earlier technique he used to knock away the Black Harpy making off with Riet. Focusing and sliding his fingers across the tainted blade, he shot a bullet of air in her direction, but the Imp reacted with enough speed and finesse to simply deflect it, knocking loose a branch of a tree in the distance. It seemed this blade still could allow his use of magic, but in no better capacity than his old blade. Utterly useless in his current situation.
"Don't worry...it'll only hurt for just a little bit, then it feels gooood~" she teased, licking her lips and letting a little of that same energy jump from finger to finger...
Unfortunately for her, Soriel was not a downed soldier, having gotten to his feet and returned, grabbing the Imp from behind. In shock, the Imp cursed and shot off a bolt at random, nearly striking Erik, while she struggled in Soriel's grip. "Let...me...go...!" she demanded.
"Oh, trust me, if I didn't think it necessary, I wouldn't be touching you." Soriel shot back. His grip was focused on the struggling girl, obviously more powerful than she looked. "Erik, the spell! Send her off!" he insisted, nodding at Erik.
Erik returned the nod, and began to focus his energy, muttering the words to the spell. It was a simple enough magic, designed for the less violent sects of the Order, to act as, in essence, a teleportation spell with no set location, only a range. It would send off the target to a random spot somewhere within range of this spot, barring any place such as Itoria which had charms set to deflect this sort of thing. Trying hard to focus, Erik kept his gaze on the struggling girl in Soriel's grip, noting something amiss.
Her hand was glowing. No, both of them were glowing. And her struggles were getting more violent. "Grr...! I know your type, and if you're gonna be that much of a pain...Then I'll just drop you now and get the hell out of here!" she cried out, building energy.
Erik's eyes widened, his concentration disrupted. 'She means to kill him? Soriel!' he thought, his mind working furiously to try and set the spell further in motion. But the spell required some time to build the energy, and the Imp was gathering her magic at a much quicker rate. Erik's gaze lingered over at Soriel, who just gave him a smile and a nod even while he held her. 'No...The spell will take too long at this rate...' Erik thought, futilely trying to concentrate harder, to speak the words faster, but the energy buildup within was still heading along at too small a rate.
The Imp had already finished. With all the energy she could apparently mustered, she literally held an orb of crackling energy in her hands, and raised it, getting ready to plunge it downward and back to whatever part of Soriel she could reach...
Erik watched as the orb descended...and went further...
"No!" was the only word he uttered as, in desperation at losing his best friend from his occupation, he cut the chant and buildup off, instead choosing to take the stupid sword he had been cursed with, and plunging it into the Imp's stomach with full force. The force and quickness of his thrust was so much that it passed through the Imp and into Soriel as well....a fact Erik was loathe to admit he knew would happen, and by his own hand he initiated what happened next....
The Imp screamed...a primal howl pierced the air as the sword began to glow and burn within Erik's grip...the orb of energy burst out, focus lost, the energy crackling and slashing at outward trees and severing several branches and trunks from their base...Soriel gasped as he felt the plunge of a sword in him, looking at Erik, who scarcely wanted to look at him...Soriel's grip fell away, and Erik pulled his sword back and let the Imp fall, eyes glazed over...
The sword continued to burn and pulse in his hand, and Erik felt something change about it, something beneath his grip was altered. It had more of a presence than before, and Erik recalled the Lilim's words about the sword's way of gathering strength. But Erik wasn't occupied with that, but rather with what was happening to his best friend...
Soriel's orange eyes, bright and energetic, darkened slightly as the moment went on, until they were quite nearly golden. His hair, brown and normally unkempt, smoothed out and laid itself flatter against his head. His skin deepened in tone, as if he was getting a few years' worth of tanning in only a matter of seconds. His frame grew, granting him a few more muscles and making his frame no longer so lanky. Before his eyes, Soriel transformed into...something different.
When the burn of his sword subsided, so too did the temporary stun on Soriel's control of his body, and his transformation. Soriel gasped, and gazed at his hands, his arms, the rest of his body. He felt his face, and his hair, and blinked at Erik for a moment.
"Erik...What did you do to me?" he asked.
"...Kuh...!" Those words ripped through Erik like he had been the one stabbed with a blade, and faced with the act he had just committed to his best friend, he did the one thing that any normal person would be shocked to hear an Order member do...
He ran.
Ignoring Soriel's call of his name, he turned and ran, completely opposite of the direction his home of Itoria would lay. He shoved branches and foliage aside, or simply ran through them and let them lash him if they so wished. He simply ran. And ran. And ran.
And he never looked back. How could he?
