Moments after Altair's thunderous voice rained over the forest, the glimmers of golden red eyes shimmered beneath the veil of shadows of the woods. Altair saw dozens of Black Mombas gathering ahead of him, their serpent-like gaze narrowing onto him.
'I can do this." He thought to himself, counting twelve around him. And prepared his stance.
The speed of a single black Mamba was near twice his speed, ensuring he could not flee, and with a high number gathering, escape was but a fleeting dream. He knew this too well, as the wound on his chest gave him an idea of what was in store for him if he tried to run.
He pressed his back against a tree to cover his rear and smiled as all twelve Mambas rushed towards him in a there wolf form.
His blade whipped out like a bolt of lightning, the shadow of a semi-arc hissing through the air, severing a single Black Manmba in half. Altair watched as its entrails spilled over the ground and started forward in a single reaction that seemed almost instinctive: He tilted his head as a claw slashed over his cheek, cutting the skin with excessive ease.
[Black Mamba Felled: Exp Gain]
He winced at the pain but didn't pull back as his sword reacted to the pain. His blade swept towards his left flank, a faint, as he spun, cutting through the neck of a Cryptid on his right. He pulled back, pressing his back against the trunk of a tree, and drew a heavy breath.
[Black Mamba Felled: Exp Gain]
'There easier than last time.' He told himself as the sensation of combat began to ravage his senses. Altair could feel the flow of the cool winds against his searing cheek, the hammering of his chest, and the fear within the ten Mamba.
"But it feels wrong… mirroring the flow of my enemy's movements into my sword… It feels wrong." He told himself as the state of knowledge gathered within his mind again. An explicable sense of understanding drew him in as three Mamba rushed towards him, morphing into serpents. Altair saw their tail whip towards him.
He stepped forward, and rather than trying to retreat, he moved as though he were a dancer, whirling through the oncoming tail whips with inexplicable grace as Endymian swept forward. A scarlet haze washed over Altair's vision as he began his slaughter.
Be it his movements that began to become refined or his sword that seemed to reject the idea of mirroring another enemy's movements. Altair felt something else inside of him stir.
'The First Stance of Grave of Night doesn't need to mirror… only give the illusion of it.' He thought as his sword and footsteps began to carry a noble bearing to them. "To control the battlefield, one needs to control the flow of your opponents. To control the flow, I don't need to mirror my opponents but my surroundings.'
Releasing a barrage of sword strikes, a domain of semi-arcs swept through the air in a whirlwind of death. In but a single moment, Altair was soft light water, flexible like the wind, domineering as lightning, fierce like fire, and hard as the earth. In a single second, it was as though his blade had vanished, shrouded by shadows.
[Black Mamba Felled: Exp Gain]
[Black Mamba Felled: Exp Gain]
[Black Mamba Felled: Exp Gain]
[Black Mamba Felled: Exp Gain]
[Black Mamba Felled: Exp Gain]
…
Ignoring the chime of his system, the Prince didn't even begin to notice that more and more mambas began to arrive. His sword became like the harbinger of death as fewer wounds gathered over his small body.
Five
Ten
Twenty
Thirty
Unsure how many his sword had reaped, nodes of dark mana trailed after Endymion. Altair found absolute focus on his swordsmanship rather than the battle with life and death.
"Faster!" He cried. " Faster! FASTER, FASTER!!!"
[Divine Being, 'She Who Hunts' Takes Note Your Existence]
[Divine Being, 'She Who Hunts' Praises Your Swordsmanship And Wishes To Know Its Name.]
Severing the head of the last Black Manba, All the strength within Altiars body left him as he collapsed over the bodies of serpents. His breathing was like a storm of flames searing his lungs as he smiled, enjoying the sensation within his body.
"Grave of Night… Wait?" He paused, through heavy breaths, "Who are you?!" He shouted, peering up at the setting sun.
[Divine Being, 'She Who Hunts' Tilts Her Head In Wonder]
[Divine Being, 'She Who Hunts' Smiles, Praising The Arrogance Of The Name But believe Your Sword Lacks The Will To Killl]
Startled, Altair tirelessly peered down at his sword, the numbing of his limbs sinking deeper with each second that passed. He groaned."Lacks… the Will to Kill?" He muttered to himself, the warmth of bodies beneath him warming his heart as he smiled as blood pooled around him. "What does it mean to kill, then?"
[Divine Being 'She Who Hunts' Shrug but looks forward to your progress]
Soft obsidian, amethyst eyes peering up to the setting of the sun, Altair watched as the twin moons hovered over the skies. He felt the cooling of his wounds, of his weary body battered and beat to the point all that was left was numbness, and he chuckled.
Sprawled over the corpses of his conquest, the young Prince stared without words at the moon, at the darkness, the starry skies bathing the night, and what seemed a nebula of stars. Altair became spellbound, locked in its beauty.
"It's beautiful, isn't it." A serine voice said. "Like a sea stretching past the vast expanse."
"Onee-Chan." he weakly replied.
Luna grinned and gently pulled him off the hordes of limbs and bodies that bearly seemed to belong to a creature, making sure not to tear open any wounds he'd received. She pulled him close into her arms.
"You can sleep now." She told him, a proud gleam in her pale eyes.
"I'm not tired." He replied, his expression betrayed by the weariness he carried.
Cleaning the blood off his cheek with her thumb, Luna chuckled and covered his eyes. Her voice was soft yet carried power: "Sleep, Child. For the morning, we begin." Moments later, his soft snores echoed through the forest.
"Now then… Leto you there? Is the little one ready?" She asked, lifting her starey eyes towards the sky. She awaited the voice of her first disciple.
"Yes, Master," Leto replied. "Do forgive me, but I cannot descend. However, I've prepared everything. Including my daughter. I hope its no—"
"It's fine." Luna interrupted, sensing the distress. He was injured. " Head to the second Layer of Hell. I know you're no fan of the Nine Hells, but the Sovereign there will grant you sanctuary… for a price."
"Master…" Leto said dryly.
"Enough." Luna snapped, anger spilling from her pale eyes. "It's your pride that allowed Yuna to be nearly killed. How your child survived is already a miracle. If you keep this up, your daughter will never know her father."
Leto's sound transmission stilled for a brief moment before he replied. " Is he trustworthy?"
"I've no idea how to answer that. That bastard is something else. But he's weakened right now. Inform him that I sent you. And pay the price he wishes. It shouldn't be too bad. You've quite a few treasures from my treasury."
Leto gulped within the Overworld, surrounded by an ocean of Fallens and Demons. Arms and limbs sprawled about as his divinity carried with it death itself. He chuckled meekly. " How'd you know?"
Luna rolled her eyes. "It's my goddamn treasury. I tend to know when someone steals my shit. If all else fails, and the price is ridiculous, like your immortal soul. Tell him it's a request from Tenebrae. But that's a last resort. I don't like owing Mother a favor."