Cerberus HQ, CEO’s Office: 936, April 9th, Monday, 1:00 PM.
“Atalanta is with Loki, and I doubt they’ll fight between themselves with specters on their back.” Arwen said, sitting in front of Sovereign’s desk.
“I know, I’m not expecting them to.” the man replied calmly—observing the Deadlands through his window. “The influence of the Deadlands in a gladean knight is more severe than in humans.” he began to explain. “They must be weakened by now, enough to be unable to return to Paradise with ease.”
“What if King sends more? I doubt he’d allow his most powerful knight to be killed just like that.” Arwen questioned.
“Then Theo would be his first choice... in any case, we can’t allow them to get their hands on Atalanta.”
“What about Ninigi?” Arwen asked. “It’s hard to be believe someone like him wouldn’t take action more often... since you didn’t mention him, I assume he’s not coming?”
“Ninigi?”
Arwen recoiled physically at the young CEO’s question, his eyes shooting open with shock. “Y-yes, the gladean knight... Sovereign, did you...?”
Uncertainty enveloped the silver-haired man’s expression—a shocking realization striking at him like lightning from above. Moving away from the window, he promptly took his laptop on the desk and forced it open. “Ninigi...” he murmured—his face glued to the screen.
Southern Region of the Deadlands, Near Heildin’s Border: 936, April 9th, Monday, 1:00 PM.
Loki’s back ricochet against the ground and back into the air—an arm’s length away from the earth. Only to be brought back down by a vigorous punch to the gut, saliva spewing out of his mouth as the demon’s fist collided with his stomach.
“Agh!” the knight hit the ground.
“Loki!” Atalanta intercepted the horned specter’s next attack. She struck at its arm with her glaive, and catapulted the beast away with all her strength.
The specter flew a fair distance away from the knights—planting its feet on the ground as The Golden Lightning’s attack forced it to slide further away. Loki stood back on his feet, struggling to breath normally. The same problem ailed Atalanta, the Deadlands influence proving too intense on both knights.
"Are you alright?" Atalanta extended her hand.
“I didn’t need your help!” Loki protested, slapping her hand away. “I am more than enough... to beat this thing by myself.”
“We’ve been out here for too long...” Atalanta retorted. “We have to go back to Paradise, otherwise—”
Ignoring her words, Loki sprinted furiously towards the horned demon—cutting distance between them with his inhuman speed. “Not before I kill this bastard!” he responded with a horizontal swing of his left blade.
The specter raised its right arm and allowed the knight’s blade to crash against it, deflecting his attack. Not letting up on his assault, Loki reacted with another horizontal swing of his second sword—blocked by a quick motion of the creature’s left arm. Moving into the offensive, the specter pressed its hand into a tightly clenched fist—thrusting all its energy into a brutal strike against Loki’s chest.
“Umph!” the knight was shot away like a bullet after the blow—hitting the ground on his back, and flipped over to face the dirt after the impact.
Still wounded by her previous battle with Loki and the gladean knights, Atalanta shook away the pain in her body and prepared to confront the specter face to face. The sole of her boots began to spark with azure lightning, the snapping sound of electricity at her feet increasing as the sparks grew in intensity.
“You will not leave this place alive...” The Golden Lightning lunged at the demon from a distance—an earsplitting thunder echoed through the region as a trail of lightning chased behind her.
With a vertical spin of her body, Atalanta gripped her glaive tightly in both hands, and brought it down against the demon’s head—placing all the weight in her body behind the attack. To her shocking surprise however, the specter stopped her assault by grabbing the blade of her weapon in one hand. The impact of the clash shook the ground below, while Atalanta struggled to free her weapon from the demon’s clutches.
“How!”
“Die!” Loki snuck in on the beast, teleporting behind it with both of his swords ready to strike—his blades radiating with a strong azure light as he reeled his arms back over his left shoulder.
With a sudden backwards jolt of its head, the specter delivered a potent attack on its opponent’s mouth—staggering the knight for a moment. Pulling Atalanta in closer by the glaive, the demon took a hold of her neck and lifted her from the ground—twisting its body to catapult the knight like a projectile against Loki; a powerful impact that propelled both knights far away into the distance.
The pair ricochet against the ground multiple times before coming to a stop, both injured and severely tired by the influence of the Deadlands. Loki and Atalanta pressed their hands against ground to lift themselves up, their breaths heavy as the horned creature slowly approached.
As she laid down on one knee, Atalanta took a quick second to check on her wounds. Her armor was cracked and dented all over, the deep cuts on her skin slowly healed themselves thanks to her abilities as a knight—although heavily weakened by the Deadlands. “I can’t... heal fast enough.”
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Loki stumbled back on his feet, both arms dropped to his sides in a slouching stance—gritting his teeth with raging eyes. “I’m not going to lose here...” he growled. “I am... the champion... I won’t be... taken out by some random specter.”
In a shocking turn of events, Loki’s gladean knights recovered from their battle with Atalanta—effortlessly pulling themselves back from the ground. Their recovery however, did not work on the knights’ favor as the eyes of the fallen warriors—previously glowing with an azure light, now radiated a powerful crimson glow from within—their stoic faces fixed on the pair of fatigued knights.
“Wait...” Atalanta reacted with a grunt—her eyes wide open in disbelief. “Loki, they are...”
Loki observed with a clenched jaw, huffing heavily from his nose. “Daemons,” he muttered.
Cerberus HQ, CEO’s Office: 936, April 9th, Monday, 1:30 PM.
“Daemons?” Arwen said in shock—standing in front of Sovereign’s desk with his hands pressed on top of it. “Why would King send his knights to become specters...?”
“I can only think of two possibilities...” Sovereign grunted with pain. “Either he thinks himself capable of controlling them...” he placed one hand on the glass of his window—keeping his wabbly body stable. “Or he somehow found out about my condition, and is just trying to make it worse...”
“W-what do we do then?” Arwen strode around the table with a small bottle, filled with red colored pills inside. “We can’t handle daemons out in the Deadlands... here, take some of these.” he placed two tiny pills on his palm and presented them to Sovereign.
Hastily taking his medication, Sovereign took a deep breath and swallowed the small capsules. “Thanks, I... might have to take control of the situation myself.”
“You mean direct control?” Arwen shook his head rapidly—taking the phone from his pocket in a hurry “No way, we don’t know what might happen.”
“But if I could... kill them both right now...” Sovereign said, as if talking to himself instead of Arwen.
“Don’t do it, Sovereign.” Raising his voice slightly, Arwen attempted to negotiate with the young CEO. “Here, Yeon is on the line.”
“Ki-Joon?”
“I leave the office for a second, and you are already causing trouble for everyone.” Yeon tried to deescalate the situation. “Jacob texted me about what you’re trying to do, drop it.”
“Killing Loki would... be a heavy blow to the order, Ki-Joon.” Sovereign breathed, strained under the heavy pressure the daemons brought to the Deadlands. “I have to try.”
“Your body is too weak to handle it, you told me that yourself.” her voice was calm, but filled with concern. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“But...”
“I’ve been with you all these years, and supported you in any way I could. Don’t be hasty to throw it all away in a whim, take care of your health first.” Yeon demanded. “What’s the point of anything if we lose you now... I’m on my way back, call if you need anything.”
Ending the call, Arwen put the phone back on his pocket before helping Sovereign sit on his chair. “She is right, whatever happens today won’t be detrimental to your plan, unless you die on us all of a sudden, of course.” he smiled.
“Let’s just hope I don’t regret this...” Sovereign muttered.
“You won’t.”
Southern Region of the Deadlands, Heildin’s Border: 936, April 9th, Monday, 1:30 PM.
Having been pushed back by the horned demon and the knights—now turned into specters, both Loki and Atalanta battled for their lives while defending the border between Heildin and the Deadlands from being breached.
Daemons, the result of gladean knights becoming corrupted by the influence of the Deadlands—a countermeasure created by the god Specter in order to repel the knights from his territory. The champion’s legend—a tale divided in three volumes, brought to mention such wicked influence in its very first volume—narrating the many lives lost to the monstrous power of the creatures, comparing the strength of one daemon to an army of a hundred knights.
Their appearance—unlike humans who turn into specters, would remain exactly the same—With only a single detail becoming altered by their transformation. The azure energy within their divine pathway would become infected with Specter’s power, absorbing their blue light and replacing it with the god’s crimson. The overflowing energy from their artery network, would cause the eyes of the knights to glow in a red light—taking away all free will from the host.
“You are nothing!” Loki roared while slicing one of the daemons in half—its upper body flopping to the ground with bright embers flying out from inside. Its lower part found no issue in restoring itself however, merging with its other half once again, and immediately jumping back into action.
While fending off another daemon, Loki noticed his previous victim stand back on its feet completely unscathed—infuriating him further. Before the corrupted knight could react however, Atalanta hurled it away into a spiral with a powerful strike of her sparking fist to its chin—stopping for a second to catch her breath.
“We can’t... let them escape.” she breathed.
Dealing with his current opponent, Loki buried his left fist in the daemon’s gut with a lightning-fast attack—bending the former knight forward and continuing with an uppercut of his right fist, launching his foe far away into ground. “For what I care...” he replied. “Screw this... I’m not becoming one of those things, they can destroy the city all they want.”
“What!” Atalanta recoiled at his words. “The people in the capital won’t know about the attack, we can’t let the daemons escape!”
“You are actually pissing me off...” Loki snarled. “I came here to beat you into a pulp, and bring you back to the order... do you not get it?” he glared at her—raising his voice. “I don’t care what happens to those people, and neither does the order. Stay if you want... I’m getting out of here.”
“Loki!”
The champion of the order turned his back on the battlefield and Atalanta, stumbling his way out with a wabbling body. He roared and cursed to the stars while fleeing, one hand holding his abdomen while the other shook in a fist with maddened rage. “I was born... raised to kill Specter... that’s my destiny... just you wait... just you wait.”
Back in the fight, Atalanta struggled to keep the daemons and the horned specter at bay—taking hit after hit with no hope of turning the odds in her favor. One of the daemons lunged at her from behind—taking her by surprise. The blonde knight attempted to block the creature’s powerful thrusting punch, but her arms felt too heavy to lift, and failed to respond in time.
“Ugh!” she took a critical blow in her stomach, falling on one knee. “Kh... Aaarrgh!” she roared while twirling into a powerful tornado of azure lightning—repelling the approaching demons.
The Golden Lightning forced herself to stand back up, her slouching stance betraying the weakening state she found herself in. She strengthened the grip on her weapon, only her fearless spirit holding her body stable on its feet. “I won’t...” her voice quivered, the piercing feeling hurting her while speaking. “Let you through... I am... a gladean knight...” she breathed with a low voice, unable to raise it further. “I am, The Golden Lightning! And I... will be humanity’s shield against the specters!” she thundered, standing firm into a fighting stance.
The horned specter charged alongside the daemons, ready to put an end to the fight, and her life.
END OF CHAPTER