"Get up, Derrick."
In the haze of unconsciousness, a distant voice called out to Derrick, a whisper that cut through the darkness. "Wake up, Derrick." The words echoed, penetrating the depths of his subconscious. As his senses slowly returned, a mysterious figure materialized before him, a silhouette shrouded in enigmatic energy.
The figure spoke, "You're holding back, Derrick. Is this really the ending you want?"
Derrick, hovering between consciousness and oblivion, listened intently as the figure continued. "You carry the weight of guilt for the deaths you believe you caused. But your hesitation, your reluctance to unleash your true strength—it's what's truly endangering those around you."
"No..." Derrick replied. "I won't let go of my humanity for the sake of power. If I do, I'll lose what makes me 'myself'. It's nothing but a means to an end."
"And look at where that got you. Naoto is incapacitated, Reed Rowley will be killed in the ensuing ritual, and Ying, your beloved teacher, is going to die. That humanity you continue to flaunt isn't strength, it's weakness."
"..."
A heavy silence hung in the air as Derrick grappled with the truth behind the figure's words. "The Children of Mor...are truly pathetic," the figure mocked, his tone dripping with disdain. "They cling onto their vague ideals of justice and humanity like dogs when, in reality, such virtues are nothing but self-indulgent fantasy. Behind that curtain of lies, no one can deny the importance of power."
The mysterious figure's speech brought old memories to the surface of his mind. It was a memory of Elizabeth Abraham in the Galencia family stronghold. "There's only one question worth pondering," her voice echoed in his mind, "and that is 'What are you willing to gain and what are you willing to lose?'"
That's right, I've been...naive.
Derrick's Factor, the crystallization of his soul, flickered like a dying flame as his resolve wavered in the face of the mysterious figure's revelations. The enigmatic entity seized the moment, unleashing a ghastly smile that hinted at malevolent intentions.
"In that vulnerable moment, the mysterious figure spoke with a sinister allure, "Good... now fall. Give yourself to me, and I'll protect you."
Derrick, caught in the grip of the encroaching darkness, felt the surge of power offered by the Demon Sword "Life-Span." The blade, once a silent companion, now became a conduit for the malevolent forces that sought to control him. His body convulsed, his eyes glowed with an unnatural intensity, and the once-defiant spirit within him succumbed to the abyss.
His body, once limp and frail, arose from his near-death state. Purple bursts of spirituality erupted from his mangled shoulder, forming Orchids and vines that weaved an ephemeral tapestry of energy. The malevolent energy instantaneously reconstructing Derrick's severed arm.
Father Gregory looked at the awakened Derrick Foster with shock and awe. "Oh...? Do you have something else to offer me?"
In the grip of madness, Derrick's consciousness fractured into disjointed fragments, and nonsensical phrases spilled from his lips like an otherworldly incantation. His words created an atmosphere of demonic madness that surrounded him like an unseen aura. "Father..." he whispered, his voice raspy and almost ethereal, "The orchids...are wilting..." The words, devoid of context, hung in the air like a spectral lament, lost in the storm of Derrick's fragmented consciousness.
With his hand raised high, Derrick summoned the Demon Sword "Life-Span" to his side. The blade flew through the air with an ominous glow, responding to the uncontrollable surge of energy coursing through him. As the sword returned to his side, Derrick's eyes glowed with an unnatural intensity.
With an abrupt motion, he unleashed an omnidirectional shockwave, a manifestation of the chaotic power that roiled within him. The forceful burst radiated in all directions, reshaping the battlefield and leaving the combatants in awe.
As the omnidirectional shockwave reverberated through the Cathedral, Ying's eyes widened with a mixture of fear and determination. He knew that if Derrick couldn't pull himself out of this berserker state, he would be forced to kill him.
At this point, I'm not even sure if Critical Manifestation can take him out... Ying stood there alone, helpless at the immense power radiating from Derrick Foster.
In the midst of his berserk rampage, Derrick's instincts, driven by an otherworldly compulsion, fixated on the forbidden notebook embedded in thick bark. A twisted intuition told him that the notebook needed to be destroyed to cancel the ritual.
Derrick lunged towards the sacred artifact and swung his blade down with the swiftness of a guillotine. However, at the precipice of destruction, Father Gregory intervened. The cult leader's movements were swift and purposeful as he intercepted Derrick, momentarily holding off the mad onslaught.
"Father Gregory!" Disciple Cramwell's concern echoed through the chaotic Cathedral.
"Stay back! I'll protect the notebook! You deal with the other Wraith," Father Gregory commanded with an authoritative tone, his eyes ablaze with a fanatical devotion to his cause.
He managed to create a dent in my barrier. If I'm not careful, he'll destroy the notebook. I need to get him out of this room.
Exerting his enhanced spirituality, Father Gregory invoked dozens of contracts simultaneously. The air crackled with malevolent energy as a horde of gaping maws materialized, forming an amalgamation of grotesque flesh. With a twisted satisfaction, Father Gregory directed this nightmarish creation to push Derrick towards The Hole.
Derrick couldn't care less about taking the fight outside. "Cut it apart... Life-Span," Derrick muttered through the fragmented phrases of his berserk state. In response, sparks flew as the Demon Sword "Life-Span" unleashed a devastating slash constructed from Derrick's unstable spirituality. The blade sliced through the amalgam of flesh with unholy precision, tearing apart the nightmarish creation that sought to engulf him.
Disciple Cramwell, pushing his speed to its limits, materialized behind Derrick, his silhouette emanating an air of grim determination. With a swift motion, he cast an 'Authority' around Derrick, creating a spiritual barrier to keep him at bay. The cultist's voice echoed with urgency, "I can't let you get close to the Father. We still need time before he can fully absorb the Factor of the Rank 4 Devotee!"
As the spiritual barrier took effect, Derrick and Cramwell found themselves abruptly dragged into the depths of the abandoned sewers. The dim, dank environment provided an ominous backdrop for the impending confrontation.
"Cut them down...like wilted petals..." Derrick mumbled.
Cramwell, unfazed by the eerie mutterings, readied himself for combat. He spat out a broken tooth, a testament to past battles, and taunted the mad swordsman, "Just come and try it, you freak." His stance was one of defiance, the resolve to protect Father Gregory and buy time for the completion of the ascension ritual.
The echoes of dripping water and the stench of decay surrounded the combatants as they faced off in the abandoned sewers, a battleground concealed in the shadows where the fate of the ongoing struggle would be decided. The clash between Derrick and Cramwell, set against the backdrop of the forsaken underground, promised to be a visceral and unsettling confrontation.