The sky gleamed with a morbid glimmer, pulsating gloom through the very air. The landscape was dominated by a gruesome sheen, reeking of grotesque figures, death and blood.
All around, seraphic corpses milled around, most brutally dismembered, lying in congealed silver pools of blood.
In the midst of that morbid scenery, a single seraph stood, quiet triumph evident in his hazel eyes. He kept his deceptive veneer complete with a somber countenance.
At least, even if he did not share the murderer's prospect, he reveled inwardly.
This is a perfect execution of all my plans... he glanced around again at the lifeless bodies of his clan members. At the very least, he got through all of this unscathed.
But then, something still lingered in his bonnet, reminding the fulfilled betrayer of a dangerous omission.
The Met́́ha Spectre…
Where was the Met́́ha Spectre?
Surely, he is not among the casualties. But then, where was he?
Or had he fled?
A small smile curled the seraph's face at the very conception of that thought.
No...I have to remain pessimistic...and alert too. It's surely too much to hope for a double miracle.
" Ultor..."
Ultor didn't turn, neither did he show any inclination to do so. But he knew that voice.
Even if he had any doubts, the fact that it resonated from a mask completely nullified his hopes on that account.
Only one Gamin demon was always masked...
It had to be an untruth. A chill involuntarily pulsed through his body, as his memories of that voice resurfaced in his mind.
It was thousands of years ago, but still it remained indelible, as far as he was concerned.
With a start, he remembered that Dael had saved him then. But now, he was indirectly urging on the assassination of his clan, without virtually lifting up a helping finger.
Not that I can actually make an impact on the assassin...if my suspicions are true, that is.
And they are.
" Ultor..." the uncanny voice drawled, and the angel shuddered again, not daring to turn around. " Is this how you show fear?"
The speaker laughed slowly. Another wave of horror settled on the seraph addressed as Ultor. The laughter sounded so lyrical, yet mingled with mild depravity too.
" Face me..." Ultor could feel the speaker's aura getting stronger; he was coming closer. " Dael once told me that seraphs never surrender... they refuse to believe that all is lost, until all is truly lost."
A wave of adrenaline coursed through Ultor, filling him with courage. Even though he wished for the annihilation of his clan, he couldn't likewise bear an insult upon their honor.
Well, it's high time I brave up...even if we're to fight again, it won't end as easily as it did back then...I promise you this.
With this firm resolve, Ultor spun around slowly and boldly to behold the speaker.
"... Long time, no see... Behemoth..."
The masked demon smiled beneath the mask in recognition, but then his expression turned blank almost immediately.
" I'm glad you've learnt to control your fear...Not that you need it anyway..." the demon added in an afterthought. "Nevertheless, it would serve as your last lesson."
Behemoth's threat was succinct enough. Even a child could solve the riddle.
But the casual tone of Behemoth made everything much harder. A bead of sweat slowly formed in the base of Ultor's blond white hair. That was when he realized the extent of his fear.
He shook his head to shake it off. He couldn't risk Behemoth seeing his hopelessness, even before the face-off began properly.
"I can see... you're hiding your fear. That's impressive, but I have a little secret... nothing is hidden from my eyes."
Behemoth laughed loudly, and adjusted his mask. This was not to reshuffle its position to stay in well...the mask had never come off in any of Behemoth's actions, no matter how displacing.
It only served as a surreal reminder that no one...god, demon nor seraph...had seen his eyes and face in living memory.
Even his past was shrouded in mist. No one knew his beginnings, nor the tale of his rise to unrivaled power.
Ultor glared at Behemoth, despair speedily replacing the original resident ecstasy and courage in his heart.
Then, he summed up all his mental analysis to a firm verdict. And that was to attack.
He had no chance against Behemoth and he knew that. But he just had to try. Behemoth won't let him flee. Again.
Thousands of years ago, Ultor had faced Behemoth in a duel. It had ended on almost macabre notes, if not for the timely intervention of Uriel.
That was then. Now, Behemoth had a second chance, and he wasn't going to misuse it.
His reputation was at stake here. No one ever survived a duel with him. That was his norm. Until he fought Ultor.
All his opponents were destined to die...from the moment they raised their weapon or hand against him.
" No Spectre this time," Behemoth knew of every single one of Ultor's ruminations, and voiced out his next thought.
"And speaking of Spectre, I didn't see him." Now Behemoth sounded slightly puzzled. But then, Ultor couldn't see his expression under the mask.
"Perhaps, he's scared to face me," Behemoth thought aloud, no audible change in his tone. "What's the problem, has he gone all rusty already?"
Ultor expected the demon's tone to turn conceited, but on the contrary, it remained modest.
Ultor stretched his hand, and at once a dense aura swirled around his hand, morphing into a majestic sword, its hilt gleaming with rubies.
"That blade didn't help you then," Behemoth sounded completely passive, "and believe me, it won't now."
Ultor clicked his tongue distastefully. Underneath the mask, Behemoth smiled on seeing that.
"Very good. You're now a brave seraph," he laughed humorlessly. "Let's see how long it takes me to quail that spirit…"
Just as he finished speaking, Ultor launched himself forward, aiming to thrust his glowing blade into the unwary demon's back.
He felt himself coming closer, and Behemoth still hadn't given him any reason to see that he knew the angel's ploy.
He smiled victoriously as he closed in, closing am eye so that he could aim properly.
CLANG!
His sword slammed into a chain mail armor that wasn't there a second ago.
Ultor redirected himself , somersaulting into the air as Behemoth spun around, sending darts flying into the air.
He landed and regained his footing immediately. Only to duck again as more darts flew his way.
Behemoth resolved to continue flinging darts at him. That way he could get exhausted faster and the fight would end without much ado.
Not that he was too weak to fight Ultor head on. But the angel was still rejuvenated whereas he was close to exhaustion.
After all, he had just massacred a whole clan of the most powerful breed in all the realms.
And so he feared that if he was to allow Ultor to attack him directly, he might — may — lose drastically, and then be forced to flee.
Ultor flung himself aside again as a dart whistled past his ear, filling him with dread for a while.
He didn't know what those darts were capable of, but knowing Behemoth, it could be only as sinister as him.
It seemed like the demon didn't want a direct duel. He only planned on keeping Ultor busy till the last minute. When he could flee without fear of pursuit.
Well…they had a long way to go then. Because Ultor's endurance could only be called divine.
Behemoth smiled watching Ultor dodge all his darts with astonishing speed. Not all that astonishing for an seraph of his rank actually, but still impressive, regarding their last meeting.
The darts were imbued with streamlined diminishing energy, capable of dampening an seraph's aura to complete dormancy.
He just had to wait…he would surely get lucky after all.
But a sudden inspiration struck his mind. What if the Spectre came now?
That will completely thrash his plan into full demise.
He seriously had to launch a new offensive that would burden Ultor the most. At least to distract him so that the darts will find their marks.
He halted the attack for a moment, giving Ultor a moment of rest. However, this was just to lead him into a false sense of security.
Ultor landed lightly on the soles of his feet, panting slightly. His endurance limit was still far but his fear had quickened his exhaustion.
"Still ready to fight?" Behemoth smiled to see that Ultor was buying his guise. "I guess you've buckled up a bit after all."
Ultor knew that Behemoth couldn't have stopped his attack simply because he was tired. He surely had an ace up his sleeve, and he did not want to find out what it was the hard way.
Therefore he has only one option left, and that was to attack before Behemoth could attack again.
"You better brace yourself…because I'm going all out this time!"
Behemoth chuckled evilly, his very tone depraved.
"Well then, come on."
Ultor attacked in a burst of speed and power, hurtling towards Behemoth with unimaginable might resonating with his body.
He extended an arm, and torrents of flames enveloped it, shrouding his arm in a mirage of seraphic energy.
Behemoth smiled grimly as the attack neared. Seeing this, fear flashed through Ultor's eyes but he decided to keep on going.
And that proved to be the worst mistake he ever made.
Behemoth caught the burning fist, not even doing anything to suggest the amount of effort used in blocking that attack.
It seemed to be costing him nothing. Ultor tried using all his willpower to force the flames to burn up the demon's unbending hand but it was futile.
He still encountered the same results on trying to pull back. Behemoth had him finally.
"A second defeat," the demon leered underneath the mask. "And a final one."
Ultor's angelic face paled at once, but Behemoth glanced around at the seraphic corpses around.
"All these done by me," his tone now was not in any way depraved, rather grave. "The whole might of the seraphs, thwarted and trampled upon by me."
Streamlined auric tendrils sprout out of his wrist, wriggling over to Ultor's hand and towards his neck.
"Without a single opposition, I thrashed the clan of Holies…" once again his tone switched to depraved and he cackled with laughter.
"Who's greater than me? Who can defeat me now?"
Ultor watched in despair as those creeping tendrils began to curl around his neck and began to tighten.
He couldn't even do anything. Behemoth had already impaled his darts in him and his abilities were impaired for good.
" Possum et Volo."
The quiet voice carried a tone of steel underneath and Behemoth was so shocked that he dropped Ultor.