Earlier that day:
After their theory lecture, Marcus gathered Constantine and Jane for a lesson in incantations. As they sat together in the operations room, Marcus began to explain to them the concept of True Speech, also known as Shinarian.
"In the world of magic," Marcus began, his voice steady and authoritative, "True Speech is a technique that imbues words with power, transcending language barriers and affecting reality itself. Legend has it that long ago, before Babel, all humans could use it but then lost the ability; others say it's a blessing from Aeloria. Regardless of its origin, True Speech works with all forms of power." he said.
Constantine and Jane listened intently, their eyes focused on Marcus as he continued to elaborate on the concept. "With True Speech," Marcus explained, "a caster can communicate and cast spells in any language they have an intimate connection with, allowing them to tap into the deepest wells of their knowledge and understanding."
Jane furrowed her brow, her expression thoughtful as she absorbed Marcus' words. "So, it's a universal language?" she asked.
Marcus nodded in affirmation. "Exactly," he replied. "True Speech allows us to speak to the world itself, and imbue our power with intent and structure. It's a powerful tool, but one that must be wielded with caution."
"Why's that?" Constantine asked.
"Because all power comes with a price, something that you will soon understand," Marcus replied.
At that moment, the tranquil atmosphere of their lesson was abruptly shattered by an urgent distress signal echoing through the base. "It's Darryl!" Marcus exclaimed, his instincts kicking into overdrive. With a swift motion, he turned to Constantine, only to find the young Outcast had vanished without a trace.
Frowning, Marcus quickly assessed the situation. Without doubt, he knew that Constantine must have teleported to his apartment in response to the distress signal from Darryl, who was guarding Vicky.
"Jane, come with me," Marcus commanded, his voice urgent as he gestured for her to follow. "We need to join Constantine and Darryl at once. There's no time to waste."
Jane nodded, her expression grim as she fell into step beside Marcus.
"Where's Kento?" she asked.
"He was on his way to swap shifts with Darryl. We must hurry!"
With a sense of urgency, they raced across the base, their footsteps echoing in the stillness of the evening. As they reached a rune – etched platform, Marcus called upon his powers, charging the runes with spatial energy. The teleportation circle was made by Shift, and it could transport them directly to Darryl's coordinates. In a flash of light, they disappeared.
Back to the present:
In the heat of battle, Kento faced off against. With a swift and fluid motion, he swung the scythe towards Lucius, its blade cutting through the air with deadly precision. To his satisfaction, the scythe bypassed Lucius' defenses effortlessly, its power too great for the shadow barrier to withstand. The Wind Scythe had the power to ignore all forms of protection, but Kento avoided using it because of the risks. However, this time, he felt it was necessary. Against a monster like this he couldn't afford to play it safe. Not with everyone's lives on the line.
With a cry of pain, Lucius staggered backward, his form wavering as he struggled to maintain his composure. Nothing had ever hurt him like this before. Seizing the opportunity, Kento pressed his advantage, raining down blow after blow with the scythe, each strike finding its mark with unerring accuracy. With each hit, he could feel Lucius weakening, his very form crumbling into the shadows under his relentless assault, the terrifying creature now reduced to a shadowy, whimpering mess.
However, Lucius was putting on an act; He was not scared nor whimpering, just waiting for a chance. And, as Kento's scythe bore down on Lucius with deadly force, ready to deliver the finishing blow, he got that chance; Kento was getting tired, and the oncoming strike was just a little slower. Lucius' eyes narrowed. With a swift movement, propelled by his own shadow tendrils, Lucius dodged the attack at the last possible moment, the wind scythe slicing through the air where he had stood mere moments before.
As Kento's blade missed its mark, a surge of energy reverberated through him, the penalty of the Wind Scythe technique exacting its toll. With a cry of pain, Kento staggered backward, his body wracked with agony as the failed attack reflected back on him with punishing force. Lucius, his form stabilizing, leaped towards Kento with a vicious, victorious grin; he didn't know what was happening, but he wouldn't miss this chance.
Grimacing against the pain, Kento struggled to regain his footing, his muscles trembling with exertion. But before he could recover, a sound pierced the air, cutting through the chaos of battle like a thunderclap.
Startled, Kento and Lucius both glanced up; as the echoes of thunder rumbled in the distance, a sense of foreboding washed over them. As Kento struggled to recover from the backlash, his attention was drawn to a new presence on the battlefield:
It was Constantine, his form enveloped in crackling arcs of purple and black lightning, an otherworldly aura surrounding him. He exerted intense pressure, making his tattered combat jacket ruffle from the air and an eerie, purple glow now covered his wounds. With a determined expression, Constantine locked eyes with Lucius, his arm raised and crackling with raw power. In a voice filled with ancient authority, Constantine spoke the incantation: "Keraunós!" As the words left his lips, his eyes shimmered with an intense purple glow, the air around him charged with electrifying energy.
With a sudden surge of power, lightning arced down from the heavens, coalescing in Constantine's outstretched hand. With a swift and fluid motion, he shaped the energy into a spear of pure lightning, its form surging with power. With a primal roar, Constantine hurled the spear towards Lucius, piercing through the air with blinding speed.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still as the lightning spear soared towards its target, its path illuminated by the pulsating glow of its electrifying energy. And, as it struck true, a deafening explosion of thunder echoed across the rooftops, signaling either victory or disaster.