For his entire life - or rather, since he had first found his affinity for the crossbow, - Aidan Cirix had been told time and again that he would be a failure. Doomed to never be acknowledged by the main family for his unwillingness to take up the sword. He still got a giddy feeling in his legs every time he remembered their faces when he awakened. This bastard child, who refused to hold a sword in his hands, truly managed to dodge the curse in favor of his father's blood?
The joke was on them - who in their right mind would want to dive into a melee with these monsters? He certainly didn't envy the boss of his little party, Sybil. It looked like she was thrown fast enough to turn her bones to dust, and the one who did it almost moved quicker than his eyes could keep up with. This, of course, was unusual for Aidan.
He would've made a run for her if he weren't engaged with another, a firm-looking woman with a wicked halberd. She looked intent on cutting him to pieces, but really, when wasn't he on the chopping block?
"Come here often?" He asked, fiddling with his crossbow. She didn't seem entertained by his remark. Which way is she gonna go? Left, right, forward? Aura flooded into his eyes, the energy solidifying and concentrating, makeshift lenses covering his vision.
Aidan lazily moved his hand up, aiming his crossbow above the woman. Three, two... A cloud of dust was kicked up from around the woman's ankles, her feet stamping hard against the ground and pushing her up and into the air. In perfect sync with that flash of movement, his finger pulled back and up, activating the trigger to his crossbow.
A surge of aura flashed straight from his heart, down past his arm and through his fingers to flow directly into the freshly-loosed bolt. Sparks flaked off from the projectile as the material endured the forces enacted upon it, and the sheer amount of energy filling it. And then...
The bolt struck its target - or, its target's... Halberd? There was a glint of metal, the ringing sound of it striking something, and then Aidan's payload burst all at once.
Flame spewed out from what was once a bolt with explosive force, enough force to rend the limbs from an unawakened's joints. But this Crown Hunter, whoever she was, had no apparent lack of vitality. Instead, the explosion only seemed to propel her further into the air, aiding her grand leap. And then, in a way so impressive as to force Aidan to say "Woah.." to himself, the Hunter emerged from that great plume of smoke. Scorched, but alive.
The shiny blade of that halberd, its luster severely cut down by the amount of soot and ash present on it, was pointed square at Aidan. Lightning quick, the Hunter kicked off of the air itself, pivoting direction and flying straight towards him - as if guided by the aim of her weapon.
Aidan cursed his rotten luck, why in the hells were all of his opponents so damned agile? At least he could take solace in the fact that it made sense for this one to be mobile - you know, seeing as she wasn't a mage. Still, although this Hunter had a chilling efficiency in the way she moved, she was no Addie.
He held his position, a long, gnarled dagger slipping from underneath his left sleeve and into his awaiting palm. This item was special to him, deeply sentimental and absurdly useful - the one thing he had gotten lucky with in terms of dungeon drops. Not that he'd ever complain, of course, it had saved his skin dozens of times.
Timing was the most crucial step now. A second too early, and the Hunter would gouge a hole through him. A second too late? The Hunter would gouge a hole through him. The trade-off of this item's power was the finesse required to actually make use of it. Otherwise, it practically did nothing. His crossbow lined up, ready to fire - without a bolt, of course. Going boltless was risky, it tended not to fly very far because of it being all immaterial. Up close, though? It worked, that much was for sure.
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His eyes focused as hard as they could, ignoring all else but that halberd. His surroundings distorted, each individual texture blurring to form one solid patch - but the halberd, his opponent, was cast in perfect, crystal clear detail. Everything in this world was a single color, save for her and the weapon she wielded. She soared through the air gracefully, a human missile in her own right.
This was the thrill every battle-fanatic in Cirix spoke of, the humming of your blood in response to an imminent death - whether yours or another's. Each fraction of a second drew her closer and closer towards him, toward the end of his life. The nearness of his end felt like pinpricks prodding at his flesh, increasing in intensity. And until those little jabs felt like knives, he waited.
Like a spring allowed to return to its original shape, Aidan's hand flew to the side, that rune-covered dagger batting aside the Hunter's halberd with a resounding ring of metal. Flecks of light surged out from that clash, and the Hunter's arm flew back, along with their halberd - even this hefty weapon, held firm with both hands, wasn't able to resist the weapon's skill.
If some of the elders of Cirix knew about the dagger he wielded, they would do whatever it may take to retrieve it from him.
His crossbow was already in the perfect position, lined up precisely for the Hunter's freshly exposed torso. The crossbow's mechanism clicked, the trigger activated - it didn't need to be, of course, there was no bolt. Sort of. A solid core of aura burst out from the crossbow's groove, flaring out as it exited to create a funnel of explosive force and flame.
The Hunter took the blow directly, that concentrated heat washing over her midsection like a fireball. A moment later, a halberd swung wildly through the smoke, aimed right at him. Weaker and slower than the previous attacks, he stepped out of the way, "Sorry, sorry - wasn't any good at the sword stuff, so this is just how I have to do things."
Through the clearing smoke, he could see the damage done to her. Well, even with the smoke, the wet coughs and wheezing made it more than clear. Aidan wasn't one to get a thrill out of toying with someone, though - that was usually the territory of the more... Pureblooded Cirix. He was going to put an end to her as soon as he could, but he wasn't going to underestimate her just because she now had a crater where her stomach should be.
He'd seen more than a few people survive for a frightening amount of time without their entrails. Even still, this woman was resilient. It must have hit a few organs at least, no?
She swung wide once again toward him, faster than before. The last throes of a dying woman. With a shake of his arm, a bolt slid down his right sleeve, locking into place in the crossbow - he'd spent months getting that little trick down, and had the scars from failing to pull it off in real fights.
The Hunter bore down on him once more, electricity crackling at the tip of her halberd. That was okay, though - he just wouldn't get hit. Simple enough, right?
Thunder sounded out all around the garden, loud enough to muffle the rest of the sounds of combat. And then, she lunged toward him. No movements were wasted, every push and pull of her muscles used only to propel her in a straight line toward him. Her speed was almost enough to overwhelm his sight... Almost.
He waited, and waited in those nail-biting fractions of seconds. At her current speed, he'd need to swing out his dagger in...
The vicious tip of that halberd drove into him, faster than it was before - blindingly so. He twisted, doing his best to parry what had already broken through flesh. But the next step, for a woman like her, he presumed, was to wrench that halberd free from his body by means of a gruesome slash. For some reason, though, maybe because of her injuries, the woman froze for a moment.
His crossbow was already prepared, wasn't it? There was no reason to let a bit of metal in his chest (still sparking with lightning) stop him from using it. He raised it a little higher though, just for good measure.
Aidan Cirix pulled the trigger once more, the bolt flying loose toward the forehead of that Crown Hunter. Some spark of recognition came back to her eyes, as if she'd woken up from that small stupor - but it was too late. Imbued with aura, that bolt drilled through her skull.
One more felled by his cowardly way of fighting.