Empowered by the cosmic gifts of the Three, Kashima rose from the bloodstained stone, broken body mending partialy. The spectral voices faded, their blessing complete. New strength surged through his veins, and his weariness burned away by righteous dawnfire. Kashima's eyes blazed with ruby luminance, markings on his palm flaring in response.
Adrastos eyed this unexpected development with a narrowed gaze, sword lowered but ready. The blood of Kashima's slaughtered comrades stained the chamber stones. In front of the warlord, the four guards shifted eagerly, weapons glinting with cruel anticipation.
Kashima sank into a low stance, muscles coiled, senses heightened. His training with Marco had been brief - but now uncanny instincts guided his actions. Flickering visions from the Three flooded his awareness with deadly arts unknown even to Lyra's battle-honed skills. Kashima blinked, adjusting to the influx.
Without further banter, two of the horned guards charged with precise teamwork. Spear tips licked out from alternating sides, testing defences while preventing escape. But Kashima flowed between each strike like silk in a gentle breeze.
To him, their movements seemed slowed by time's trickle. He pivoted inside the reach of a thrusting spear, heel of his palm smashing into the red-armoured chin with a crack. Before the collapsing guard even landed, Kashima seized the spear and spun low, slashing ligaments behind the second guard's knee. The spear pulled back, tearing away the dangling lower leg in a welter of red ruin.
Howls echoed under the falling guard's antlered helm. No trace of mercy glinted in Kashima's eyes. He thrust deep into the splayed throat, angling up behind the frantically clutching hands to pierce the brain.
Without waiting for death's shudders, he turned to see the remaining guards closing in concert, poleaxes looping toward his skull. Kashima's spinning kick collided with perfect timing against both hafts, sending the blades harmless wide. When the guards stumbled back, he was nowhere to be seen.
Lyra struggled against the cultists holding her down, their grip tightening cruelly whenever she strained to see Kashima dueling for his life. When they blocked her sight completely, she heard the meaty smack of a body hitting stone.
Then came the shearing axe blow bisecting a spine. Her imagination painted nightmarish images of Kashima's fate before the cultists wrenched her view up again. Through the forest of shifting limbs, Lyra helplessly watched her last comrade moving flawlessly between his deadly enemies.
The last guard realized retreat was impossible, instead committing to a desperate all-out chop aimed to cleave Kashima's skull in two. But Kashima slipped left, allowing the whistling axeblade to split empty air. His riposte punched through a gap in the splayed elbow joint, piercing the heart within. The guard tremored rigidly before Kashima wrenched his hand free in a scarlet spray. Eyes wide in terminal shock behind his metal helm, the guard sank alongside his three slaughtered brethren.
Utter silence gripped the vast chamber save for Kashima's steady breathing. The warlord Adrastos watched with a narrowed gaze but no fear. If anything, cruel amusement lurked at the corner of his mouth behind his armored mask. With casual contempt, he gestured his robed flock away from Kashima. "Four of my guards lie dead by this lone fool's hand - this will be memorable sport." He flourished his archaic but well-honed sword, the black blade reflecting no light. "I shall carve screaming lessons into your flesh, weakling."
Kashima did not deign to respond. Adrastos was merely an obstacle on his path. Calm purpose thrummed through Kashima's veins as he initiated the attack, with no hesitation in his movements. Adrastos riposted instantly with trained reflexes, opaque steel clashing loud in the vast chamber.
Back and forth they traded raging blows almost too fast to follow. To Lyra's vision the duel seemed evenly matched, though she noticed Adrastos slowly giving ground before Kashima's unrelenting advance. Never had she seen such flawless skill evinced by her ally. Each weaving motion flowed perfectly into the next as he sought weaknesses in Adrastos' defence.
With a sneer, Adrastos disengaged and held forth his free hand. In his sword-calloused palm lay an intricate necklace strung with azurite-hued crystals. "You prove more amusing than expected, roach," he conceded. "But now taste true power." He crushed the necklace violently. Glittering dust erupted between his clenched fingers before absorbing into his armor with a red shimmer.
Adrastos bellowed triumphantly as colossal strength flooded through his augmented war plate. His physically enhanced legs drove his charge, sword carving mercilessly for Kashima's abdomen. But his enhanced speed was now only equal to Kashima's preternatural gifts. Their duel intensified to dazzling levels no normal fighter could attain.
Lyra suppressed a shout when Adrastos' blade drew first blood, carving a seeping gash along Kashima's outer thigh. But her friend adapted quickly, adopting more evasive motions to shun each hammering sword blow. When breathing space opened, he took only a heartbeat to retrieve Marco's fallen axe and one of Thorn's pistols. Grim necessity shone in Kashima's expression - he would mourn later. Now, he fought for the lost and all they had stood for.
Kashima opened fire immediately upon rearmed, Thorn's sidearm bucking steady against his palm. High-caliber rounds split satisfying chunks from Adrastos' shoulder guards. Howling furiously at the insolent Strike, Adrastos charged heedlessly into the barrage.
But Kashima was already elsewhere, vaulting up the piled cargo containers. He kicked off from midair with feline agility to overshoot Adrastos' head. The warlord skidded as he redirected the momentum of his sword into a disembowelling backslice - only for the blade to carve a harmless groove through stone. Kashima had landed in a tight shoulder roll, Marco's axe already scything at Adrastos' thighs.
Though Kashima's strength was lesser, the monomolecular edge sheared partially through armor cabling and leg brace. Adrastos almost stumbled knee-first before recovering. Rivulets of blood wormed down the severed cabling.
"Bastard mongrel," Adrastos he shouted before regaining icy composure. "I care not for flesh wounds." He circled counterwise. "You will scream praises before the end."
Kahima offered no meaningless retorts. He fought for higher aims - restraint and discipline were paramount. The warlord lunged suddenly within his guard, but Kahsima locked the blow overhead before bringing his knee up viciously into Adrastos' exposed midriff. The impact resounded within the chest cavity as Adrastos recoiled snarling...yet a dagger's blow had somehow slipped between Kashima's ribs in turn.
Staggering back, Kashima glanced down at the protruding weapon, as surprised by the lack of pain as the blade itself. Gritting his teeth, he pulled it free in a single motion and flung droplets contemptuously towards Adrastos. "Pain means nothing. My purpose lies beyond your corrupted self."
If anything, his words merely angered Adrastos further. With a bullish roar he aimed curses and swordblows in tandem, seeking now only to dismember and maim. But his rage proved his undoing.
Never losing equilibrium, Kashima slid cleanly from each attack before answering with axe or pistol shots targeted precisely at armor gaps or limbs. Piece by piece, Adrastos' engraved warplate fell away under the precise onslaught until only ragged underlying layers remained.
Panting in disbelief, the warlord paused knee-deep in blood and rent armor, blade wavering at the lone fighter who had reduced him to this state. "Mere...flesh...cannot defeat me!" Desperation tinged his denials.
Eyes calculating, he sprang directly at Kashima with sword high to cleave his skull. Kashima pivoted aside, allowing the overcommitted momentum of the attack to carry Adrastos forward.
With meticulous timing, Kashima's axe severed Adrastos' sword-wielding hand mid-air, casting it far in a welter of dark blood. His other hand whipped up Thorn's gun, placing the barrel flush against the stumbling warlord's temple. Adrastos froze in disbelief, mouth working silently, before Thorn's last round exploded through his eye cavity to finish him.
As their leader and his honor guards lay lifeless in spreading pools of blood, chaos erupted among the cultists. Shrieks of panic echoed off the shadowed chamber walls as the remaining acolytes and scholars flung aside their crimson robes and cowls. All composure lost, they stampeded in terror for the rapidly shrinking portals - their only escape from this suddenly deadly sanctum.
Pinned helplessly in place, Lyra thrashed with renewed fury against the distracted cultists. Through their forest of clutching arms she glimpsed red-sashed scholars fleeing alongside acolyte warriors. The same order of fanatics who had architected her friends' slaughter. As they scurried past, she screamed vengeance with nails raking deeply into her captors' wrists until she tasted blood. Their grip finally loosened enough for Lyra to surge half-upright with teeth bared.
"Lyra..."
Kashima's strained voice cut through her rage as no command could. She froze, heart lurching for lost comrades past saving - yet one still lived. The axes and pistol slipped heedless from Kashima's limp fingers, clattering loud upon the blood-strewn stone beside the corpses of Adrastos and his butcher guards.
His eyes writhed wildly, realization sinking in of hopes now crumbled to dust...then rolled back as blinding darkness claimed him. He collapsed limply against the once-invincible warlord's broken husk.
Lyra's fury melted instantly into anguish, the will to fight draining from her battered frame. Her raised fists uncurled limp as she sank back down, lowering her head wordlessly as mocking shadows darted past. She no longer cared if the cowards fled unpunished. Everything that had mattered now lay bleeding or dead upon the pitiless floor. Hot tears welled up to cut trails through the blood and grime of battle.
On her knees, numb and deaf to the chaos raging past. Her empty eyes took in the ravaged corpses that had so recently been living allies -bold Marco whose brash humor always lifted spirits, and gentle Thorn. Now merely shredded meat and cracked bone upon the floor.
Slowly, her gaze turned to Kashima's crumpled form, watching for the faintest rise of breath. Each second was an eternity until his chest subtly hitched. Lyra exhaled sharp relief. Clarity returned like ice water as survival instincts resurfaced from the grief-stricken haze. They were still deep behind enemy lines. Urgent action was critical - she could mourn later.
Fishing a compact radio from her belt with quivering hands, Lyra broadcast tersely on open Theta frequencies, repeating the emergency rendezvous protocol. Upon receiving the automated confirmations signaling reinforcements enroute, her attention turned back to the portal chamber. A handful of red-robed scholars milled about uncertainly, abandoned. They froze like deer as Lyra's pistol rose steadily to center on the forehead of their apparent leader.
"Surrender," Lyra demanded hollowly. The scholar duo exchanged hopeless glances before kneeling slowly in acquiescence, heads bowed. Weapons and devices clattered to the floor. The fight had left Lyra's body with these last dregs - but she still clutched steel in a battered hand.
This event was sure to echo through the Covenant's ranks. But for now, our victors need to recover and grieve for their lost comrades...