Sirius and Xander stared at Philo, horror etched across their faces as they noticed Emilia's unconscious figure slumped in front of him.
Philo glanced down at the mundane girl with disinterest, his attention shifting almost immediately back to his remaining targets. A terrifying sense of ease exuded from him as he met their wide-eyed stares. Before either could react, Philo blurred out of sight.
The cousins, frozen in fear, felt their hearts pound in their chests. The weight of impending death pressed down on them, growing heavier with every second Philo remained out of sight. Blurs danced at the edges of their vision, heightening their anxiety.
Suddenly, with no more than a second or two passing, Philo reappeared before them, wearing that same unnervingly gentle smile.
"So, do you kids have any last words?" Philo asked, his tone almost too casual for the murderous aura surrounding him.
Xander's mind reeled, struggling to process the situation. The pressure suffocating him made his thoughts sluggish, pushing him into desperation. His grip tightened on his dagger, instinct driving him forward. Before he realized it, he had lunged at Philo.
With a resigned sigh, Philo caught Xander's wrist effortlessly. A swift knock to the head sent Xander sprawling to the ground, unconscious from the force. He was too fatigued to continue even if he were still conscious. The fight was drained from him, leaving Sirius as the only one standing.
Philo turned his gaze to Sirius, who was visibly struggling. Deep, heavy breaths racked the young boy's body, but his trembling hands still clutched his weapon. It was clear he hadn't given up.
"Oh, you still intend to fight me? Impressive," Philo remarked, amusement lacing his words. Sirius didn't respond, his knuckles white as he tightened his grip on his club, shifting his stance to steady himself.
Philo tilted his head, observing the boy with a faint nod. "I admire your bravery and courage… but you're going to have to die now," he said, his voice growing cold as his eyes lost all warmth. His smile vanished, replaced by an empty, lifeless stare that was chilling—especially for a child.
Sirius's gaze met his, unwavering. "I don't intend to die here," he replied, his voice trembling but firm. The resolve in his eyes was undeniable, despite the fear crawling under his skin.
Philo raised an eyebrow, surprised by the boy's declaration. "Oh? Then let's see about that," he muttered, and in a blink, he was upon Sirius. His dagger slashed through the air, leaving afterimages that danced around Sirius like ghosts. The movement was disorienting, unlike anything Sirius had ever seen before.
His heart pounded as he tried to discern the real blade from the illusions. Philo had only just become a tier 2 Soul Weaver; surely, there was a limit to how advanced his techniques could be. Sirius had no choice but to trust his instincts, his soul essence surging through his body as he swung his club to intercept the attack.
The weapons clashed, and to Sirius's relief, his instincts were right. The real dagger met his club with a sharp crack, and Philo's expression flickered with surprise.
Philo's surprise quickly turned into annoyance. His attacks came faster now, each one sharper and more lethal than the last. Sirius barely kept up, his body straining with the effort to defend himself. He blocked, deflected, and dodged, his club holding up against the onslaught for now.
Philo's irritation grew, his strikes intensifying as he aimed to overwhelm Sirius. But even as the boy was pushed back, he somehow managed to anticipate and block the real blade time and time again, his reactions almost inhuman.
However, it was clear that Sirius couldn't hold out much longer. Cracks spread across his club, and his body was showing signs of strain. His veins bulged unnaturally, and his muscles swelled as his soul essence pushed them past their limits. He was a ticking time bomb, and Philo could see it.
With a cruel grin, Philo pressed his advantage, attacking relentlessly. Sirius's grip on his weapon faltered as pain shot through his arm—a few veins in his arm had ruptured. His defense crumbled, and in that moment, Philo struck the weak point in his club. The weapon shattered into fine dark salt, scattering in the wind.
Sirius stared at the remnants of his club, the weapon that had served him well reduced to nothing. Again, he thought bleakly, remembering the last time his weapon had shattered in his hands.
But he didn't have time to dwell on it. Philo's dagger found its mark, stabbing into Sirius nine times in rapid succession. His chest, his stomach, his neck—all were pierced. The pain was immediate and excruciating. Blood poured from his wounds as he gasped for air, his lungs burning as if they were filled with fire. His legs gave way beneath him, and he collapsed to his knees, his body convulsing as he struggled to breathe.
Blood trickled from his mouth, staining the ground beneath him. His vision blurred as the life began to drain from his once- beautiful bright purple eyes. He stared blankly ahead, his mind struggling to process what was happening. Before him, Philo stood, panting heavily from the effort of the battle. At least Sirius had made him work through sweat and blood for his victory. How many others could say they'd given a tier 2 Soul Weaver a run for their money at just tier 1?
'So this is it?' Sirius thought, his mind hazy.
'This is how I die—not to the horrors of the Abyssal Plane, but to a human who was supposed to fight alongside us?'
The irony of it all wasn't lost on him. He had entered the Abyssal Plane, prepared to face unspeakable horrors, only to be betrayed by one of his own. It was almost poetic in its cruelty.
But wasn't betrayal just another form of horror in this cursed place? Philo's actions were driven by fear, by desperation to avoid death at any cost. In another life, maybe things wouldn't have turned out this way. Maybe Philo wouldn't have been their enemy.
'This is so unfair,' Sirius thought bitterly.
'What kind of luck did someone have to possess to be thrown into the Abyssal Plane at the age of twelve? And just after I found out I have some talent too.'
His thoughts drifted to his dark salt soul weave, a mutation that had revealed itself to him only recently. There was so much he still didn't understand about it. And then there was the dark claw, the strange dream that lingered in his mind, and the ring his parents had left him. How did it all connect?
'I need to meet my aunt,' Sirius thought, his chest tightening with emotion. His eyes, dull with the weight of his injuries, flickered with life once more.
'I need to save them,' he thought, his gaze shifting to his companions, their bodies strewn across the battlefield. With every ounce of strength left in him, he forced his body to move, ignoring the searing pain and struggling through mortal injuries. His vision swam, but his determination held firm.
Philo noticed the movement and began walking toward him, a look of annoyance crossing his face. "You just refuse to die, don't you?" he muttered, his dagger raised for the final blow.
Sirius barely registered his words, his mind singularly focused.
'I need to kill him,' he thought, his gaze lowering to the ground where the grass had been transmuted, their once organic textures had changed into that of dark salt crystals.
'I need to understand this power,' he thought, shifting his focus to Xander. His cousin—his number one fan, his brother—lay unconscious, but alive. Sirius's eyes softened as he whispered hoarsely, "I need… to fulfill… my… promise…"
Then his gaze hardened, locking onto Philo's approaching form.
'I can't die,' he thought, the words barely a whisper in his mind.
Philo sneered at him. "Oh, is that so? Well, I'll take that as a challenge, you menacing cockroach." He lunged, his dagger aimed for Sirius's throat.
But something deep within Sirius snapped. Time seemed to slow, in his perception, as the blade neared him, and the words burned in his mind. I cannot die.
The thought repeated over and over, a mantra that grew louder with every second until, just as the dagger brushed against his skin, his thoughts shifted. A domineering will formed within him.
I refuse to die.
His eyes snapped open, blazing with an intensity that hadn't been there before. A guttural, almost draconic roar tore from his throat, raw and primal. The force of it was like an explosion, sending Philo and everything nearby flying. The very air seemed to tremble under the weight of his roar.
Even the ominous sound of the approaching Abyssal Shade was drowned out by the sheer power of Sirius's defiance. If anyone had been paying close attention, they would have heard the unmistakable words within that roar:
"I REFUSE TO DIE!"