"Stabit" James mumbled softly as he raised his hand to shield his cheek. His sword remained in the air, as though he was still holding on to it. A small spark stopped right before his palm, unable to move any further. He turned his eyes to the direction it came from. He couldn't see anyone, but he didn't need his eyes to see what his other senses did. His ears picked up the slight rustling of leaves a few kilometres away. It could very well be an animal, after all there were several creatures in the forest. But no animal was capable of shooting a gun from such a distance. And he'd rather risk killing an innocent creature, than to leave his back wide open for a hidden sniper.
"Reflexionem", he said. The small spark heeded his words. It flew at breath taking speed towards its origin.
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Some few kilometres away, another black clothed figure- a gun master- watched in horror as his most prized technique, 'The King's bullet', failed to hit its target. His face was pale, his brown eyes shaking with fear as his target turned towards his direction. He shakily picked up his gun as he prepared to flee. Unfortunately, it wasn't to be. His very sharp eyes caught sight of the golden spark flying his way. He smiled bitterly for he knew what it was. An attack that wasn't famed for its precision, but its destructiveness. It was a technique that exploded upon impact, making it futile to block it with a shield or a sword. Its effective range was a diameter of 20 metres. Good enough to avoid hitting allies, but fatal to an enemy. To think that one day, he would die by his own hands. There was no way he could flee. Even if he wasn't hit directly, he would be in its range. Best case scenario, he loses as few limbs. Worst case, well, death was pretty much the end of everything, wasn't it?
*BAAAANNNNG*
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The explosion occurred some kilometres away, yet the deafening impact was felt by the red eyed man and his men. They didn't need a physician to tell them that their colleague was dead. Anyone hit by such a technique, unless he/she was in the heavenly realm, would in no way survive. Yet this little interaction informed the red-eyed man of something vital.
"That can't be right. How do you still have control over your emotions? No, you aren't really a Supreme. You are using magic to control the power of a Supreme. You're a False Supreme. You're just a thief using power that doesn't belong to you. You definitely can't keep this up much longer. And with the flashy moves you are using, you won't be able to." The leader finally noticed a flaw, one that calmed his fleeing heart and reassured his frantic mind.
James didn't bother to reply. He stretched out his free hand and opened his palm. His large sword flew into his grip immediately. He clasped the hilt tightly and declared in 'lease', "Daemonium Venator: Gladius Obumbratio."
His sword began to hum loudly, the originally 2 metres long sword grew longer, becoming almost twice its previous length. It also grew larger, as the thin sword now looked like a large cleaver. Its blade was engulfed entirely in fire, its screams like the cry of a rising phoenix. James' aura went through a drastic change just like his sword. He grew larger, making Morgana who was held in his left arm look more like a doll figurine than an actual human being.
The red-eyed man was unmoved by this display of power. To him, all this was just a futile attempt to escape the inescapable. All he saw were the last embers of a beautiful flame, one that was going to be snuffed out soon- and not by his filthy hands. All he had to do was make sure it was put out before he could feel its searing heat. Luckily, he had enough numbers for that.
"Go", he commanded, not caring much for his 'followers'. They didn't even have the will to protest, for when he commanded them, their eyes went blank as they rushed at James without any of their previous sanity. They were very clearly being controlled.
*Kink*
The first man to reach James had his attempted stab easily repelled by the flaming sword. James swiped him away as one would swat an annoyingly persistent fly. The man's figure flew out like a broken kite, and was smashed powerfully into the ground a few hundreds of metres away. Yet this act of power did nothing to deter the mindless pawns that were closing in.
"Nature's Cross" James chanted. His stance was inch perfect, his technique exceptional. The result? A Nature's Cross that put his practice cross to shame. Twice as big as the one he conjured earlier, and at least three times faster, the magnificent sword lights rushed towards two of the unfortunate pawns, intent on being the platform for their crucifixion.
*BANG*
The cross exploded loudly, having successfully impaled two of his assailants, and leaving a large dent in the ground, proof of its power. James panted loudly, his eyes were beginning to fail him. His steps faltered as he slightly bent over, exhausted yet awake.
"Tired already?" the red-eyed man orated, the glee in his voice unhidden. "But you still have one more minion to take on. How on earth are you going to manage, and deal with me after?" He 'kindly' asked.
"I don't have to. I just need to deal with him. At least before he comes." James mumbled tiredly. He threw his sword high into the air and exclaimed, "Go, Randal!" In response to his words, the sword flew at terrifying speed unbefitting of its enormous size. It rushed towards the last assassin who held his sword before him to defend against the blow. The thick plates of earth the man summoned did nothing to deter the large sword. Randal effortlessly tore through the defence of the earth wielder and impaled him neatly on the ground.
*Bang*
James slumped to the ground, his face full of sweat. Even in such a condition, he held on to Morgana with delicate care. His body returned to its normal size, the torn rags that barely covered his skin serving as proof of the earlier gigantism. Randal had also returned to its normal size.
"Oh my. The show is over already. Hehe." The repulsive laughter of the last man standing was grating to the ear. Yet James didn't look troubled. He had a broad smile on his face as he looked at his enemy with…wait pity?
"What did you mean by, 'before he comes'" the gloating man finally realised he had missed something. He didn't receive a reply though. He didn't need to. He felt fear. The fear one feels when they are dealing with something beyond them. A natural, instinctive fear. One that paid no heed to how much courage you had.
"I see. You made so much noise so you could draw his attention" he orated, right before a strong hand held his neck from behind.
"You reek of one who has bathed in the aura of the Dark Sword. I won't kill you yet. There is much I want to know." The voice of the Cold Emperor was pleasant, his long black hair highlighting his good looks. He didn't look like an old man. He looked young enough to pass for James' elder brother. But to the assassin, that voice held no charm- only dread.