*
The rogue bends down, gently placing her fingers on the ground.
"WATCH OUT!!! IT'S HER MAGIC!"
(Galadyn)
"Tch! [An inventor's solemn and wistful dream] " (Rogue)
The ground spasms, then splits into multiple layers... The top layer is transparent and off a different colour, as if the ground had multiplied and popped out of itself, then someone slid down the opacity slider. It felt like they were looking at something that shouldn't exist, while they could only observe and do nothing as the rogue gives a deep smirk. Without a single delay, the transparent layer multiplies like bacteria, filling their vision. Then it all turns to black.
"... Where am I... Did the rogue have a translocating skill?" (Galadyn)
He couldn't feel anything. See nothing, hear nothing, smell the abyss, taste vacuum, feet in the void. It was severely disorienting for a human like him. A magical girl's stat even extends to resistance against sensory deprivation, it wouldn't reduce the effects of depriving one's senses but it would stabilise their mind and keep them from going insane. Galadyn didn't have that protection, nor was there a magic tool that he had for this occasion. He couldn't predict that far.
What's more, there was a blatant and large anxiety growing at the back of his mind. In this darkness, he wouldn't know when his life would end. These various factors sent his heart beating faster and his breath shallower. He couldn't feel the air going in and out of his lungs, so he breathes faster and harder to compensate for this lack of feeling, hurting his chest with pangs of internal agony.
"Haa! Haa! Haa! Haa!" (Galadyn)
He breathed loudly and desperately, his dignity was thrown out the window. His tears escape his eyes and his snot spilled out of his nostrils. His head was drenched from the sweat of stress, he couldn't see an end to it which terrified him even more so.
Dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit Dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammitdammit
Out of an aimless search for stimulation, he accidentally bit scratched a certain area of his skin where a pill was hidden. It was a magic pill that would only materialise according to his will, a rather simple magic tool that read the adrenaline levels in his blood as permission. His mind had gone numb and thoughtless, so this was a big help.
The pill erupted into a burst of flames, at the same time he activated another pill that prevented his death. Stimulation, in this static world, stimulation fueled his soul. The world began to change once more, was it a mental attack after all? He had absolutely no magic defense, so he was fully susceptible to psychological magic attacks.
Even the rogue's aura could kill him if not for Harald fending it off. With such a gaping weakness, it was better to take drastic measure than not do anything at all. His body felt lifeless and weak but he lifted up his torso then his legs, he continued to stand in rebellion of his personal frailty.
Meanwhile...
"A forest? No, I was fighting with the rogue. Probably an illusion?" (Harald)
Without hesitation, he cuts his arm with the swift swipe of his blade, as if he was sheathing a katana. His blood spilled profusely but it quickly regenerated and his vision spazzled for a moment like a static television that lost its signal. He swung his blade backwards to cover his neck. His scenery returns to that of the hideout, the rogue falls from the ceiling and slices the back of his legs with magic daggers she had.
It was odd, like an illusion but the smell of the forest and how it's humid air stuck to his skin was vividly traced in his mind. The rogue whips out her bat, ready for another round. She chases after Harald, during mid run she casts her skill once more. The ground multiplies with transparent clones once again, the only reason he could see these clones was that the edges were a clear black outline, as if it was the silhouette of a cuboid made of glass. Then these clone multiply once more, filling his vision with black, before it clears up to reveal the next scenery.
Ruins, ruins and more ruins. Destruction and death as far as the eye could see, the stench of rotting flesh permeated the air with a viscosity thicker than magma. This was an event far worse than the rogue's rampage. This was the ruin of modern society, before the magical girls cleared away the debris. Even now, there were perhaps some modern ruins if they searched far out enough.
The earth now only had a single continent anyway, people could traverse the land to other ex-continents and see many ruins of urban society there. This was the aftermath of The Great Disaster. While the physical strain of looking at all of this death and destruction and the mental strain of losing the future of humanity was taxing enough, there was a suffocating atmosphere that could not be described.
As if the collective spirit of humanity was mourning, this depressive air fills every inch of Harald's body and crushes it into the ground like an unseen oppressive force. It feels inevitable, soul crushing, as if heaven is repeatedly crashing on him and ridiculing his pathetic insignificance, mocking how useless he was that he couldn't prevent The Great Disaster. Grief of humanity, a melancholy that crying that cannot solve.
Were these the feelings of someone else? They made his mind fuzzy and vulnerable, throwing it into a washing machine and then spraying it with a power washer. Lost in the sea, his thoughts were like a tiny drop in an ocean of noise and miserable emotions. He was drowning, he knows he is frowning but he cannot do anything about them. His tears flow endlessly that they pool on the ground around him, at this rate he was afraid to die of dehydration.
"What the hell..." (Harald)
Through his tears and over his blurry vision, he could see a hooded figure in the distance. Her face was concealed and she walked slowly towards him with a smile on her face. It was the rogue, she was in here with him this time. She swings her bat, striking his head as he was unable to resist. His body feels the release from inertia as it flies at high speeds, crashing through multiple high rise buildings.
The debris pierces his flesh, spreading his organs open as his body was repeatedly perforated. His body was practically a rag of mangled flesh but his regeneration was quickly able to patch up his skin in a few seconds, then his organs in a few minutes.
"Urrghh...!!" (Harald)
It didn't mean he suffered no pain at all, and there was undoubtedly some parts of his body that needed more time to regenerate. He was in absolutely no state to fight properly, in fact his regeneration was actually boosted by a magic item. Something disposable, like a recovery potion. Well, it was more grotesque than whatever games may predict, but it had saved his life. To be frank, it was a bomb of recovery magic that was forcefully implanted in his flesh. If an opponent had pierced it, it would set off immediately. His frail human body wouldn't regenerate so easily otherwise.
These items were bought by Galadyn's riches. But his dire straits were more obvious than they seem, his business was collapsing and his wealth drying. Yet he placed all of it in these tools meant to help them win the battle. If Galadyn was giving up his livelihood, what does that make him? He can't do anything but fight, so at a time like this he shouldn't even be relying on Galadyn's items. He felt absurdly pathetic to have essentially received free help and leeched off of Galadyn's affluence.
Even if Galadyn was of minimal help here and had difficulty fending off the rogue's attacks, Harald would not help him now. He would fulfill his promise. He would take the rogue's head, at this stage there is nothing left for him to fall back into, except for his own skills. Nothing to rely on but himself, his breath had calmed and his mind tranquil. Yes, it was as if at that moment it was his life's sole duty to take her head.
Nothing could swallow up his feelings any longer, no false emotion shall lay waste to his psyche. He held his sword with practiced ease as he walked towards the rogue, his body loose and springy in every step. The rogue rushes forward in a single thrust of her foot, with her superior physicality she closed distance faster than anyone could imagine and swung her bat before anyone's eyes would catch it.
But Harald was no longer human, he had survived so many fatal injuries just to heal it back. His diminished muscles were proof of that. He paid what he lacked in experience with blood, anguish and regret. It weighed on his mind heavily, but it was also his onlt strength. He puts his back into it and blocks with the flat of his blade, twisting it to one side to deflect the bat away. It struck like a car had crashed into his arms, every bit of his arm and leg muscles tensed and stretched, pushing his conscious to it's limits.
His willpower was near the edge of his perseverance, holding on like the last bits of water held by water tension over a cup. A little push was all it took to finish him off, but he regains his footing. He held his sword at the ready once more, its magic resonating with his body more than ever. Everytime the rogue takes a step forward, their surroundings change and a new wave of emotions clouds his judgement, but survives and defends each time.
A jungle with trees that stretch into the sky further than rainbows, the darkness of shade covered every inch of the ground as a weightless feeling wraps around his heart. His heart beats unnaturally fast as it feels like it's flying away from his body, he couldn't ground it and recover from his exhilaration. His legs wobble but his fingers hold tight to his blade. He jumps behind a tree as he senses the next attack, he had recovered from the artifical dissemination of emotions into his mind.
Akin to diluting poison with more water, to the point that the poison is no longer harmful. The foreign emotions entering his conscious have become so insignificant that they only had superficial influence over his feelings. As long as he kept a 'base' emotion, which would become his main indicator of his objective and mission, he could dismiss the new emotions impeding his path.
"Don't just pretend I'm dead." (Galadyn)
He appeared in the forest, his short combed black hair and pitch dark eyes seem to bore a hole into the rogue as he spoke. Despite being a mere human with minimal magic assistance, he ripped apart the cage of sensory deprivation that the rogue prepared with sheer strength of will. He wasn't here to mess around.
Seeing an easy target to pick off, the rogue rushed at Galadyn. Without another moment ti spare, Harald followed after her, but as they had relatively similar speed he was stuck behind her in this chase.
"I told you I'm not here to mess around. Did you think that I would catch your attention without preparing?" (Galadyn)
A loud explosion erupted next to the rogue at that moment, it even seemed like the rogue was running into the smoke of the land mind that had been planted. Galadyn naturally doubted that it would take out the rogue in one go, so he stepped away and ran at once. The true purpose of the mines was not only to distract the rogue but to give Harald enough time to catch up and protect Galadyn.
Harald rushes forward with a new and unseen burst of speed, he bends his right leg which was in front of him low, swerving around the rogue's legs. His blade was held in mid air as it aimed at the rogue's abdomen.
"?!" (rogue)
The ground erupts around the rogue's feet, it was the usual pattern. The ground was going to multiply again and obscure everyone's vision in black. Harald swings with all his might, he did not care if it was futile, he needed to take out the rogue as soon as possible. The feeling of flesh getting perforated by the edges of his blade travelled through his wrist through its reverberations. A splash of crimson liquid left some speckles on his face.
He was looking at the ground, but he knew that she coughed up blood. His blade had slipped within the remaining crack within the mass of jet black surrounding their vision. She looked at the magical weapon incomprehensibly, appalled at her carelessness but not losing any determination. She finishes her magic and their scenery changes. It was like sleeping and waking up again and again, it taxed the mind for the challengers to break free from their emotions.
"Haaaghh!!!!!!!! Urgggghhh!!" (Harald)
This time Harald woke up impaled by the rogue, her arm lodged inside his heart. For a person with low C grade endurance, this would be fatal. Yes, for someone with low C grade endurance.
The edges of his lips twisted upwards like the ends of a crescent. He says nothing, but swings his blade at the first moment he could.