Heidi sped ahead, Rizia's speed lagging, Azazel ducked right under the upper slash she threw at his head, sideways. Just about to go for the stomach as retaliation, the whistle of limbs soaring downward to crush his head was audible to his ears, however, with his body leaned forward too deep… he wasn't one for pulling his head out now.
Smoothly, he had to roll between her legs, scratching at her leg so the lower ankle would dislocate and plop onto the lower platform with a gooey plop, Azazel kicked her back now rolling into a stand. Raising his right hand as the blade whistled sparks from metal clashing against metal, Azazel used but the other hand to slash down on the sharpness, watching it break apart, he went for the grab. Rizia was faster, effortlessly swatting away his hand, their body spun, attempting to kick at his face's side, he ducked under, aiming the fist right at her face, trying for an uppercut. Just before he could, they'd weaved so ceaselessly, dodging so far back, it was almost as though he'd punched the air, for their bust and face was no longer there.
Their legs ascended, the result of a backflip, hands utilized as a platform to aid in such a rising, it was clear what Kosuke's intentions were. But this fight was mere child play, especially for an Incarnation originating from the Old World, for while their attack connected to his chin, he fell back. Slipping on his balance, his back descending into the tip of a short sword, just before it could pierce his flesh, he swiped it out of Snow's hand. Affixing his stance, regaining his balance in the process, with the stolen cutter, in the blink of an eye, she was sliced in twain from the chest, innards spilling out, intestines sprawling to litter the tiled ground with clumps of flesh, the splash that defiled his face's angle made for a gruesome sight.
Standing over her would-be corpse with a glare in his eyes' centers, Karlo's head fell, eyes analyzing the shape of the robbed dagger; just as expected: riddled with blood across the side, most prominent across the tip. Even so, with as much proof he was given to make for her convincing demise, this gut feeling panged at his very being, a second nature he simply couldn't ignore.
"I know you're not dead, little brat. I'm not stupid..." Azazel strongly stated with a deeper vocalization accompanying his vocal cords, brows stabbing downward, grip on handle tightening, veins appearing over fingers' backs.
'Rizia's not moving to attack me- must be waiting for Heidi to regenerate so they can both overwhelm me with two types of attacks aimed at both my sides. I'm killing Rizia, that might turn Heidi berserk and open her to more openings.'
Azazel vanished before Harbinger's eyes, for them to turn around, they jumped back, boots' soles scraping the ground, they ran ahead, watching as Karlo spun the blade in hand before sprinting forward. Passing one another at first with their swords clashing, they swung at his head, blocking overhead, a kick aimed at the chest, another blade emerging out the free palm blocked the attack, absorbing it instantaneously. Stabbing the extra blade into the air so they could use it as leverage to soar into the air, crashing the rear of their foot into the summit of his skull, easily, however, the sword raised over his head's top.
Throwing them into the air so they could angle themselves into an upside-down descent, pistols replaced the form of the smaller sword, firing at his face. To their surprise, he didn't stand still and block, for he ran ahead, cutting them apart with an insignificant swipe so they could easily brush past his face and singe his beard to mere strands. Jumping ahead with a pep in his step, the sword drove further ahead, already motioning to sever their head clean off their shoulders, without regard visible in his eyes for the path that laid ahead... even if he'd gotten cut apart at the same time he went for this final blow, it didn't matter.
But, if that were the epitome of his resolve, what was this emotion resurging out of oblivion, a tidal wave enveloping his very being in its whole. Almost as if he could feel his head splitting apart, teeth clenching together, nostrils pouring out blood, Harbinger widened their eyes, peering just behind him to spot the recuperating Heidi... with an exorbitant amount of eyes layered atop one another; darkened cat-like slit down the middle.
'This demonic presence... I've felt it... before...!'
That time in the Old World, during that Destructive Advent that marked the end of an era, there they were, a black shroud encompassing them in mystery for shreds of that cloak surrounded the air, just the scent of that infamous Devil King; even now, it wriggled its ugly stench into him, violating every part of his sacred being. The strength in his slash faded, veins sinking into skin, flared nostrils reverting to normalcy, a yoke of gore spurting out his parted lips.
Harbinger kneed him in the gut, effectively sending him back, instinctively holding his stomach, they let their fists do the talking, for as they repeatedly pounded at the sides of his face... each new hit caused more damage. More thumbs digging into the side of his eye, more cracks resounding as knuckles snapped deeper into the depth of a bone, more blood splashing out the lips' side, more droplets flying to dirty their visor.
There was only so much the human body could normally withstand, and as they kicked the final kick, he fell to his back with a puddle of blood spewing out his covered rear. The embers of a resolve remained burning evermore, for as time continued to accelerate, this withered state, this defeated self he stood idly at, at the end, where was the growth? The power, the strength he'd learned to consume so easily, lessons- techniques, all slammed into his bones, for the transgressions of the past, the regrets he'd always had that laid dormant within the very essence he wielded as a person, they all served as fuel.
"Kill him, Riz!" Cried a voice indistinctly, for the individual speaking remained camouflaged, he remained still, even blinking sending a signal of pain to the remnants of his active nerves.
"Right on it!" Replied Kosuke loudly, hand over lips, expanding their voice's range temporarily before going to their knees, casually sitting right beside his resting head.
"Oh, it's... you..." Is what Harbinger managed to distinguish from his damaged vocals, weakened from combat, for as they drew their blade, penetrating the ground with the edge, their lips parted, staring down at their defeated enemy.
"I have a plentiful number of things I intend on asking you. Why... did you let me live? Two months ago, you had me dead to rights, you were at your full power. Why let me go when you surely expected this ending? After all, this whole time, you were holding back, weren't you?"
The crimson prohibition signature of blood's thickness as a liquid gradually faded, for he could finally make out the sight of their face, androgynous as they were, regardless of sexuality, there was one factor he couldn't deny. They were so gorgeous. The next time his lips parted, his voice was as good as new, as if he'd never been beaten at all,
"You're not asking me that, you're asking yourself that. Why did you hold back against me, for aren't I the very thing that you despise? Ultimately an unknown soul inhabiting the body of the man you loved. You should kill me already, as your partner said. So, go ahead. Kill me."
That plead was a bluff, he didn't truly want to die, nobody did, not really on the outside, anyway. Humanity's survival instincts were too much to bear, no matter how tight you make that noose as it whittled away at any semblance of your breath, your nails were destined to scratch at the rope. In any case, he remained correct, for as their hand raised, they prepared to chop his head off his shoulders, to rid themselves of the aching past tremoring through the seas of time, intending to catch up to them.
But even so, as the sword continued its journey to cut at the neck's front, those thoughts rushed through their head like an endless downpour forever falling from above the clouds. 'Why didn't I kill you?' 'Why are you still alive?' Then it hit them, the nights the two of them spent together, whether it be on his apartment's rooftop in Paris or staring out into the dead of night from the pier, seated atop those wooden seats carved just for that occasion.
'BUT HE'S GONE NOW!! JUST KILL HIM... and get it over with!'
That inner voice, the conscience of their soul, what they knew to be the righteous decision kept screaming at their soul, ordering them to directly obey. The man they knew was gone, no doubts littered on their mind's floor, but just then, with the blade's side mere centimeters away from cutting apart the neck... they remembered what he said, two months prior.
'He existed before, I have his memories. More respectfully I can say this, I... think you're a beautiful girl...'
But why? Why, why, why, why, why, WHY?! They'd damned that identity to the ground, rebuilding someone anew from the ashes of the destroyed world to stand beside the Founder as his Harbinger of Order. Rizia Kosuke, that godforsaken last name they were damned to live with for all eternity, in the eyes of another, a female, but in their personal view, someone without a label. That was the truth they'd accepted, the 'wrong' choice, to be someone without a label, only bring death to those who deserved it, turn their life around to ensure order was served without fail. They were no one else but themself. To be proud of neither themself nor others, to be a lapdog, an obedient pup for another, that was the path they'd chosen, right?
"I've seen it before... love manifests the most distorted curses."
They were thrust back into the road of reality, their target vanished, turning their head to make eye contact with the Crow, he witnessed the sorrowful sight. Tears coursing down their cheeks, sobs silently exiting their lips, Azazel patting their shoulder, pulling them into a tight embrace, Heidi was left speechless, not to mention motionless as she continued to watch. Riz's eyes widened, pupils shrunken, their arm drawn to his back, his drawn to theirs, a peck attached to their cheek, originating from his lips.
"There remains another path for you. Don't be anyone's slave... if you make the right choice, we'll accept you for you, and not for your skills as whatever you think yourself as," Azazel's words attuned to be hushed, as if lulling a babe to slumber or comforting a sobbing child, his velvety comments transmitted additional sobs into his neck's crook.
"B-but... I've... I've done so many b-b-bad things...! How can I... possibly...?"
A finger was placed to their lips, hands handling shoulders, Azazel gazed ahead with a fatherly grin only one other had seen regularly. The kindness of a parent, directed toward their child, for once, they'd seen it. The fondness in the eyes, the loving aura they were surrounded by, the desire to be accepted, it all manifested at the tips of their fingers.
"You're one of the few worthy to have a second chance. Do with it what you will. I leave the rest in your hands."
Karlo reassumed a standing position, spiked hairs diverging from the upright style, with one hand, wiping away the blood from his lip, the claws mechanically peeled over his forearms to the edges of his hands. The song of metal rung throughout these stone walls, leading a shocked expression to spread over her white features, for as the droplets rose to her perspective, the next sound she heard was the stump of her lower bust clumping against the gore-covered ground. But what of it? She could easily regenerate in less than a fraction of a second, so what did it matter if they damaged her to the core of her very being?
As long as there remained the most miniature flame of hatred burning within her very soul, she could repair anything and everything! She stood atop the realm of supremacy… she… had to!
"Rizia was correct in her assumption; I was holding back. I simply stole your demonic capabilities, at this rate, when the adrenaline wears off… you'll be dead before you even know it. Now, I have a job to do, hurry up and do your own: die."
The legs served as the board for his perpetual movement, increasing the speed of his springing until the aching in his legs reached its breaking point. What he left in his wake was none other than a perishing Snow and a conflicted Rizia Kosuke, continuing to run without a care in the world, for there remained but one topic on his mind.
His legacy needed to be preserved, washed over, and cleansed like Noah did in the Old Testament, no matter the cost.
To Be Continued!