The accursed had grown in strength and ability. That was a fact since the first night in the eleventh land and had come to a frightening fruition in the last twelve hours. He only had twelve hours, seemingly a paltry amount compared to the long years spent in Fallen Heaven. But looking at the accursed lords in the distance, their very presence forcing even the mindless brutes around them to quiver and hunch forward in fear, Oscar believed if offered a choice, he'd trade for another few years in Fallen Heaven to avoid the last twelve hours. Though the darkness of the starless sky was bleak enough, somehow, the slow steps of the accursed lords made it even darker.
'Boy, you recognize them? That Stegan was a simple commander, but here….' Ignyres said in an unusual solemn voice, lacking the usual crackling of lively fire, the words smooth and sharp in the gravity of the situation.
'Yes…I remember them all.' Oscar swept his gaze past each one, every face of either a Caerulumen general or an Ancient general imprinted in Volten's clear memory. Oscar stepped forward, his feet heavier and slower. The black shield on his arm sunk lower, but he gripped it tightly and brought it up, taking a defensive stance. The army behind him shuffled and reorganized in an orderly manner, making a stalwart defensive formation to weather the coming onslaught. The winged beasts circled a few feet above as the other beasts guarded the sides. Their preparations had been made, and the stage was set. Oscar stared down the accursed lords who stopped at the other end of the bridge, halting the lesser ones who complied without even a drool or snarl.
Then, it happened. In an instant, in the blink of an eye, an accursed lord traversed the entire bridge in a single step and stared down Oscar, its normal-looking eyes fixating on Volten's sword that still stabbed upward from Oscar's back. While he couldn't reach the emotions of an accursed beyond the usual lunacy, the lords were far simpler due to their closer-to-human nature, yet without the finer control over them. Evidently, this particular lord was angered, rows of blackened teeth gritting and revealing themselves on the pale face.
Without wasting a moment, Oscar swung fast and direct, driving his scarlet-platinum drill toward the accursed lord's head. But his opponent simply raised a hand, able to react in that quick moment, and gripped Oscar's spell. Black blood drenched the tip of the drill that protruded out the back of the accursed lord's hand, but other than that, the monster refused to budge. A concentrated Shattering Wave rushed out and pierced through its head, but the wound visibly regenerated, garnering a few gasps from the ones behind. Stunned, Oscar pulled his fist back as the accursed lord clenched hard, its fingers breaking into the sharp metal of Eirin, cracks splitting the drill apart into chunks.
He had escaped before the accursed lord could grasp his hand. However, the fiend swung a punch of its own and slammed right on the center of his shield, the hardest spot. An electrifying pressure spread from the nerves in his left arm and numbed the bones, a sensation he had not felt in many years. Stomping a foot down, Oscar resisted the blow, shock-ridden again at the sheer power that nearly toppled him over. His Eirin flared harder around his limbs, and he kicked the accursed lord halfway across the bridge, creating some distance for him to ponder. He waved off Demon and Erden, who almost left their positions to help, needing them to hold off the other accursed lords.
And indeed, they were needed. The accursed lords reached Oscar's side of the bridge, bringing the endless hordes of their lessers along. Oscar poured his Eirin into Volten's sword, emitting a low radiance enough to cover the frontlines. Perhaps Fallen Heaven despised him. That notion grew stronger since a mere two accursed lords converted to their side, a far cry to the dozens of hostile ones descending on them. Oscar cracked his neck against the discomfort and refocused on the accursed lord staring at him from the bridge. It seemed to have marked him as its enemy and prey, the other accursed lords not paying any attention to him.
An insidious and dark Ein burst from the accursed lord, a shade darker than the night around them. It clawed at its two wrists and tore out chunks of pale flesh from each, black blood pouring down from the fresh wounds that didn't heal. The accursed lord grunted and clenched one stream of black blood and pulled out a long axe, the shaft longer than its height and the double-headed blades at the end resembling the sharp blades of a guillotine. It pulled out another axe from the other wrist and marched slowly, staring at Oscar with the cold eyes of an executioner.
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"Ah, that's who you were. The Kalrat Executioner, the foremost beheader for the Caerulumen." Oscar took a deep breath and calmed his nerves, catching every bit of movement from the shuffling of the clothes to the swaying of the hair. As the sounds of the battle deafened to silence, he waited and tensed his muscles. The accursed lord rushed in, and Oscar blocked, his ears tingling from the loud clang of their weapons colliding. Using the momentum, Oscar built up a huge amount of Reis and deflected the second axe. Kalrat received a series of burning kicks, the flames settling in where the drills pierced deeply, and was showered in a downpour of scarlet-platinum blades.
Turning mid-air, Oscar dodged a series of swings, feeling as if the axes were bouncing off the air and ground to rebound and swing back toward him. An exploding magnetic orb of fire granted him the freedom to escape, but after taking a few steps back, Kalrat regained his balance faster than Oscar had hoped and already closed in, swinging its black-blood axes into a blur. The wounds Oscar inflicted on it had already healed, leaving no mark or blemish on the pale, dead skin. Oscar pushed, more Eirin flowing into his fists and shield as they clad in a dense layer. The air screeched as Oscar blew one axe away and spun to knock the other away, forcing Kalrat's arms to hang back as if welcoming Oscar into his chest.
Oscar rammed ahead, kicking off the ground in a bullish charge. This time, he stabbed straight ahead, Eirin swirling at the tip of his drill. Kalrat couldn't block or deter Oscar's blow and received it in full, but Oscar shuddered as he saw his drill fail to pierce into Kalrat's chest. A slight portion of his spell broke past the skin, a mere superficial wound. These accursed lords were strong, fast, and tough all at once. For a brief moment, Oscar could swear Kalrat formed a slight sneer, but his attention was rocked by the axe swinging into his side. He gritted his teeth as his bones trembled in pain behind his shield.
'These were once former King Exalts, now dead and downgraded to this meager level. Their flames are gone, but the base strength remains.' Ignyres stated the obvious.
While Oscar considered using primordial flames, he glanced at Demon. His alter ego dashed and slid, landing several strikes with his blue-blazing sword, out-speeding the accursed lord, who swiped its whip fiercely as if trying to swat down a fly. The blue flames cut deep, drawing bursts of blood from the fresh wounds, yet they failed to sever the bones. Turning back to his opponent, Oscar endured a beating from the savage axes, blow after blow of mountainous pressure, the pounding drumming in his ears. His focus was on the chest of Kalrat, pondering on another chance.
Seeing a chance in the wide swing, Oscar gritted his teeth and raised his Eirin again, overpowering the axes to fling the arms back, exposing the chest once more. Ignyres seemed hesitant in his inner world but poured a rainbow color flame into his core. Flames of a myriad of colors spiraled from the tip of his platinum drill, unable to fuse into the metal but blazed well around it. His veins writhed and pushed against his skin, volcanic heat rushing in his blood. Only in the state of Guise could he endure the full might of the primordial flames in all colors, but he used it now.
Even the blue flames hurt, so he used it sparingly, unlike Demon, who felt no pain and mainly fought in a Duality body that didn't care if it broke down. He stabbed the drill wreathed in rainbow flame into Kalrat's chest. This time, the drill pierced deep, giving Oscar his chance. He undid the drill and formed a flaming magnetic orb inside Kalrat's chest, trying to fuse the primordial flame into his metal. It wasn't a success, but that was what he desired. The resulting explosion of failure consumed Kalrat from the inside, the burning shrapnels of his failed spell puncturing hundreds of holes out of the accursed lord.
Oscar slid back and nearly fell but managed to hold on, panting as the Eirin in Volten's sword flickered in weakness. Kalrat grunted and groaned for the first time. A wide gaping hole was on his chest, allowing Oscar to see right through it, and Kalrat appeared mangled, globs of blackened flesh barely clinging to his bones, shreds of skin and muscles clinging by a thread of sinew.
'To think I'd have to learn from you.' Demon followed his example and burst the flesh off his enemy. He made it look easy, but the fading bits of Ein flaking off his Duality body showed how much that victory had cost. Upon seeing their victories, the army seemed reinvigorated and cheered, their morale and courage rising in their roars. Now free to roam, Oscar and Demon assisted the others, coordinating against one lord and then rushing to the next with the newly freed-up Exalts. The rallying cry grew louder the more accursed lords they killed.
Once all the accursed lords had fallen, Oscar banged his shield and raised Volten's sword high, flaring the light for one glorious moment to rouse his army. The battle was far from over. As more accursed lords arrived, he led the charge, his stomps joined by the stampeding of his army. The last twelve hours, he had lost all thought and fought for what felt like an eternity, swinging once, twice, thrice, losing count of how many he had killed. He had no other thought than to kill and protect, his eyes constantly wandering to Avril and the others before locking onto his next kill.
His efforts were not wasted. The ten orbs shone once more. The final night had ended.