Floating City of Paradise, Knight’s District: 936, May 14th, Monday, 12:30 PM.
“Is that it?” Loki expressed indifferently while cracking his knuckles.
Surrounded by the remaining gladean knights in Paradise, the horned specter and Loki battled as residents of the floating island observed attentively. Having forced the demon out of the secret garden behind the castle, both fighters stood at the center of a devastated plaza in the knight’s district—turned into rubble by the demons.
The horned specter rested on its knees while pressing one fist on the ground, its crimson exoskeleton was damaged with multiple dents and fractures, and the shells of its body began to crumble into the floor.
“You are the same specter from that day, are you not?” Loki inquired—a quick chuckle escaping his lips. “The one that interrupted my fight with Atalanta. Well… I don’t feel like dragging this out, and there is no corruption to hold me back this time.”
Growling while picking itself back on its feet, the specter crossed both of its arm in front—as if preparing to block an attack. Pressing its fingers tightly with a quick motion, the demon caused a pair of crimson blades to extend from inside its forearms, emitting a high-pitched scrapping sound due to their sharpness. Their crystal-like appearance was mostly identical to the swords Claire creates with her pistols, only longer in size as they grew half the extent of the beast’s arm.
“Heh,” Loki chuckled with an unconcerned smirk—unamused by the demon’s ability. “Go ahead, show me what you got.”
Despite his weakened condition after the heated battle with the exile at HQ, the knight was able to effortlessly react to his opponent’s attacks with relative ease—weaving from side to side while avoiding the slashing onslaught of the creature.
As the horned specter lifted its right arm in the air—bringing it back down with the full extent of its power, Loki managed to abruptly stop its momentum by catching the crimson blade in-between his palms—bending the demon’s arm to the side in a downwards angle.
“To think I lost to you once,” the smirk in the knight’s expression faded into a dissatisfied frown. “Whatever, I’ll just kill you now.”
Shattering the blade on the creature’s arm with the sole pressure of his hands, Loki responded immediately with a powerful round kick against his opponent’s head—connecting directly against the side of its neck with the bridge of his foot. The sheer force of the impact staggered the creature as it stumbled to the side—forced to balance itself with its arms and wabbling legs.
“Here’s an old trick,” Loki grinned. “One.”
The knight buried his fist on the demon’s abdomen—causing a burst of wind to ignite on impact. The attack bent the specter’s upper body forward, prompting it to cover the affected zone while stumbling backwards.
“Two,” Loki continued his assault by striking near the monster’s ears with his knuckles—cracking the sturdy armored skin on its temples. “Three,” unsatisfied still, the knight propelled his right arm upwards with a potent uppercut that lifted the horned specter’s feet from the ground. “Four,” he then launched his left arm with a rapid hook—striking at the ribs of his opponent, and breaking its exoskeleton even further.
A painful growl escaped the demon, dropping on its knees while holding its upper half steady with one arm. The small blades on each side of its mandibles opened and closed continuously—as if breathing through its mouth. Refusing to fall however, the horned specter planted both hands on the ground to pick itself back on its feet—only to be met by the knight’s azure blade before it could recover.
“Five,” Loki concluded with a satisfied smirk—plunging one of his swords through the nape of the demon, piercing through its hard shell and reemerging on the other side—burying itself on the ground.
With his opponent pinned down against the dirt, the knight quickly pulled out the azure sword from the demon’s neck with a reverse grip. He twirled his weapon a couple of times before slicing at the specter in a downward swing, chopping the head of his foe with a clean and swift cut.
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Beheaded by the knight, the horned specter’s head rolled on the ground before coming to a sudden stop. The light of the demon’s amber energy veins faded slowly as strength abandoned its body—vanishing slowly into ashes. With the threat eliminated, the crowd of knights that observed the fight calmly began to disperse in multiple directions—moving away with deadpan expressions as they continued their patrol. Their plans would be abruptly interrupted however, as a familiar ‘face’ showed itself to greet the victorious knight.
“You never lose your edge, do you?” a musky feminine voice claimed from behind Loki—prompting him to turn towards in its direction.
“I heard you were around,” the knight replied with no particular tone. “Why did he send you?”
Atalanta stood firm in front of her old friend, carrying the electrified glaive in hand while maintaining her usual fighting stance. “To keep my oath as a gladean knight,” she said. “There are a few survivors in the human district, men, women and children. I’m taking them with me.” The blonde knight stated.
“And why would you think I care about what happens to them?”
“…”
“Do what you want, I’m done here anyway.”
The man’s words caused Atalanta to relaxed her stance slightly, watching attentively with one azure eye that peeked through a crack in her mask. “That specter… it was the horned demon from last time, and the one that destroyed Paradise that day.”
“So?”
“It seems to have given you some trouble,” Atalanta pointed out, referring to Loki’s tattered and dirty clothes—his entire torso at full display.
“Tch!” the knight clicked his tongue with a snarl. “I just met an old friend, that’s all.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
Offering no reply, Loki turned his back on the blonde knight—withdrawing his weapon as it disappeared into azure particles of light. “Leave already before the others notice you,” he suggested. “King is taking care of Gladea’s statue, and I don’t feel like dealing with you right now.”
“Right… thank you, Loki.”
“I told you to leave, didn’t I?” Loki retorted. “I’m not responsible if these things try to stop you, now get out of my sight.” The order’s champion offered his final words to The Golden Lightning, striding back towards Gladea’s castle. A quick whistle abruptly stopped the man’s retreat however, turning to face the blonde knight a second time.
“Here!” Atalanta hurled a small object towards him.
Catching it in one hand, the knight felt the soft and squishy object as he gently pressed it with his palm. It was a small cloth moppet, somewhat dirty and old looking. He looked into a pair of buttons that served as the eyes of the doll, which was sewed together with pieces of dark brown cloth—glimpses of repairs could be seeing on its face and hands. The moppet had the looks of a girl with dark hair, dressed with an elegant tiny yellow dress and a cheerful smile.
“I mended its arm together. I hope you don’t mind me tinkering with it.” Atalanta claimed with a smile as she turned her back with no further explanation.
“Where did you get it?” Loki asked with a low and displeased tone in his voice.
“You abandoned it, remember? the blonde knight replied. “When you decided to leave Ninigi to join the order.”
Receiving no further reply, Atalanta continued on her way to save the people from Paradise. Thankfully for her, the rest of the knights followed Loki’s command and simply allowed her leave without a fight—maybe there was still some sense within them, or perhaps their minds had been corrupted too much to even make their own decision.
Loki kept staring at the cloth doll for a few short seconds, unable to avert his eyes from its cheerful smile. His face was hard like a stone, and his brows scrunched into a downwards curve as he looked down at the puppet. With an annoyed huff from his lips, Loki simply turned back towards the castle to report on his victory against the horned demon.
???, ???: ???, ???, ???, ???.
The bright light of the sun—proudly showing itself in the clear blue sky above—embraced the vast and beautiful green and white open fields of the ground below. The tiny blades of grass swayed mellowly with the gentle breeze, accompanied by the limitless extent of white flowers that danced with the wind.
“I’m here, Lionheart.” A man’s voice resonated in the lieutenant’s ears. Her vision was foggy, and the light of the sun above caused her to squint her eyes—unable to see anything but the silhouette of a silver-haired figure. “Stay still, I’ll take you home in a moment.”
“So… sovereign?” she managed to blurt out—her spinning head unable to structure any cohesive thoughts. “I… I…”
“Don’t worry, nothing can touch you here.”
“Father… where… where is my father?”
“…”
“I can’t… not without…”
Claire’s breaths became heavier, causing her start gasping for air. The gentle touch of a hand caressing her head soothed the disoriented thoughts in her mind however, stabilizing her panting as she closed her eyes gently—falling back to sleep in mere seconds.
“Sebastian…” Sovereign said to himself. “Right… let’s get you out of here first.”
END OF CHAPTER