The air split with a deafening roar as Vaylin lunged forward, his form a blur of claws and putrid energy. Azul barely had time to steady his stance before the impact sent shockwaves rippling through the forest.
He met Vaylin's claws with his katana, the force driving him backward across the snow, pain flaring in his arms. As he braced himself, his focus flickered to the shimmering surface of the blade.
"Such an unusual color for steel," Vaylin sneered, his voice thick with mockery, a venomous edge lacing every word. "And it resists my dominion? How... fascinating," he spat, his gaze turning from amusement to disdain as the sickly purple energy rose from his form, twisting like serpents around his limbs. The air around him thickened with a palpable menace, as if the very atmosphere recoiled in response to his presence.
Slowly, Vaylin's feet lifted from the snow, his body suspended as if gravity itself had crumbled beneath the weight of his fury. He hovered above the ground, eyes narrowing with a growing disgust. "Your clan," he hissed, his voice dripping with contempt, "really is... bizarre."
Azul gritted his teeth, forcing himself to ignore the burning in his muscles as he prepared to charge again. His sky-colored eyes locked onto the roiling energy around Vaylin, noting how it warped the air. Despite the gale whipping through the forest, Vaylin's dark cloak and hair barely shifted, as though shielded by an unseen force. Azul extended his senses, attuning to the accelerated wind. The moment it touched the purple aura, it recoiled, as if repulsed by the very notion of interacting with the substance.
The energy pulsated, growing more volatile with each surge. Vaylin's grin stretched wider, the violet claws flanking him extending until they towered like phantoms, each as tall as a man. With a sudden burst, another pulse of his dominion erupted at his back, propelling him forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.
Azul braced himself, but before the claws could collide, blades of wind materialized from the surrounding gale. The unnatural sharpness of the storm surged toward Vaylin, biting into the violet aura. It flickered, diminishing slightly under the assault, but the rejection energy held firm, carving through the attack unimpeded.
The claws surged closer, their violet edges glinting with lethal intent. Azul's jaw tightened as he adjusted his grip on the katana, the storm around him raging in defiance of the encroaching void. Danger flared within Azul, a warning from Inariko of the imminent bisection.
Aided by the swift currents of wind, he rolled backward, narrowly evading the violet claws. Another swipe came instantly, forcing him to twist away, the gale surging in tandem with his movements. Every breath and curve of the wind bent to his command, carrying him out of reach of the savage onslaught. Yet, with each swipe, Vaylin's energy drew closer, its oppressive force eroding Azul's defenses.
On the sidelines, Ari could only watch, her heart pounding as her brother was pursued relentlessly by the madman. She clenched her fists, her instincts screaming at her to intervene, but her drained reserves left her powerless. Her gaze flicked to the two assassins still kneeling nearby. Though they seemed hesitant to act while their leader reveled in his "fun," their sharp, unyielding stares warned her against interfering.
Gritting her teeth, Ari swallowed her fear and whispered a silent prayer. Stay strong, Azul. Just like you always have.
Vaylin cackled wildly, chasing Azul with the frenzied energy of a rabid dog. "Why are you running? You're a fox, not a deer!" he jeered, his deathly claws swiping through the air.
Azul twisted, but not quickly enough. The violet claws raked across his chest, the seams of his shirt unraveling as if repelled by the sinister energy. A shallow cut parted his skin, the flesh following the example of the fabric, splitting with an unnatural precision. Pain flared, sharp but not debilitating, as Azul stumbled backward.
'Stay calm', he told himself, ignoring the warmth of blood beginning to seep through his torn clothing. 'I can't afford to falter now'
Though his vision blurred for a moment, Azul's focus returned to the twisted figure before him. The flowing shapes of the blooded mask seemed to mock him, each curve a reminder of Vaylin's monstrous nature.
His mana surged, the tempest around him growing more violent with each passing second.
Why should he stay calm? A furious voice echoed in his mind. He should use everything—every ounce of power—to destroy the thing in front of him. For in Azul's eyes, Vaylin was no longer a man but a devil, more wretched than any daemon could ever be.
With steady hands, Azul raised his pale green blade and struck with an overhead slash, the steel gleaming in a flash as it collided with Vaylin's claws. Sparks flew as one set of claws caught the blade, the other pair already arcing toward Azul's unprotected side.
But before the blow could land, the storm at Azul's feet exploded with force, propelling him skyward like a rocket. Wind whipped around him as he soared above the battlefield, his heart pounding in time with the roaring gale. Rest well, my clan, he thought, the storm's fury echoing his solemn vow. I will make sure this daemon burns in his hell, so your banquet in the afterlife may be ever so joyous.
Feeling his reserves dwindle to halfway, Azul gritted his teeth, pushing past the ache of fatigue. He focused on the ethereal energy and let it ignite, his passion fueling it like tinder to a forest fire. His command expanded further, the air circling the snow-covered land drawn upwards, suctioning the frosted ground bare as the moisture mixed and condensed. Dark storm clouds swirled around him, rumbling with latent power.
Vaylin did not relent. The putrid energy behind him pulsed with intensity, rocketing forward as a deep purple dart. It screamed through the air, a shard of rejection itself, tearing toward the heart of the storm with unerring precision.
The winds carried Azul's wrathful will, gathering around the green katana in a violent, unyielding orbit, like a galaxy of wind given form. The air twisted and shrieked, forging itself into an extension of the blade—a shaft emerging from the storm clouds, shimmering with raw, unrestrained power.
An unimaginable howl of wind followed its path as the ethereal blade careened downward, aimed to smite Vaylin with all the force of Azul's fury. The storm itself seemed to channel his intent, each movement crackling with his passion and determination.
Vaylin's manic grin widened, his form bathed in the pulsating purple energy of rejection. Yet for the briefest moment, his gaze flickered with something deeper fear mingled with awe. His irises shimmered, betraying his instincts screaming at him to avoid the oncoming strike. But like a moth drawn to a flame, he ascended to meet it.
The two forces collided with a deafening roar, the bestial howling of the wind reverberating through the frigid forest. The pressure exploded outward, causing the trees to groan under the strain, their trunks bending dangerously. The assassins were flung away by the force, while Ari, struggling to stay grounded, used the faint trickles of golden sunshine to anchor herself, desperately fighting the storm's pull.
Surrounded by the haze of dissipating clouds, Azul struggled against the overwhelming strain pressing in on him. Before he could regain his focus, a flash of purple light erupted beneath him, and the veil of clouds shattered as Vaylin pierced through. His grin, twisted with malice, stretched across his beaten face, threatening to tear his cheeks. Purple claws had morphed into grotesque hands, clutching the bloody masks like a grotesque shield.
Azul's teal eyes widened in shock and horror. Vaylin's momentum carried him effortlessly above, his repulsive energy now coating his arms like armor. With a brutal slam, Vaylin crashed down onto Azul's head, the world spiraling into disarray before the cold earth violently greeted him.
His ears rang, only able to pick apart the distant, frightened screams of a young girl. His mask lay half-buried in the snow, the gale that had once raged with him now subsiding into the subtle breeze it had always been. His mind, which had been pummeled into silence, began to stir again.
"He survived… and he dared use them, THEM to shield himself!" Azul's voice was ragged as he tried to push himself up, only for his body to betray him with aching, every movement a pain. Supported by Inariko's force of will and his katana, he struggled back to his feet. His gaze remained locked on Vaylin, who strode toward the injured fox with an unsettling air of carelessness, his insufferable jolly demeanor now somewhat muted.
Vaylin looked down at his opponent, his purple energy retreating, revealing the ragged, ravaged fur of his attire. It was clear that the storm blade hadn't been a trivial challenge, but unlike Azul, Vaylin appeared unscathed, eager for more. His eyes, however, lacked the usual madness—empty, as if Azul no longer held any worth as a threat or even an exciting adversary. It was as though he was looking down on a broken toy.
With a sigh, Vaylin grabbed one of the masks from his collection, holding it up for Azul to observe.
"You Kazura people," Vaylin sneered, his voice dripping with disdain, "You all have so much potential, yet you waste it. With daemons at your side, you let them rot in these masks, like powerless guardian angels."
He waved the mask in his hand, purple aura seeping around his fingers as he began to crush it, the energy coiling around it like a vice. But no matter how much force he applied, no matter how many times he attempted to cut, crush, or tear it apart, the mask remained untouched. It stood firm against his power, invulnerable to his every effort.
His anger began to boil over. Vaylin's gaze snapped from the mask to Azul, whose expression remained cool, his anger contained and reserved. There was no surprise in his eyes, no response to Vaylin's futile struggle against the mask.
Azul's calm reaction sparked something in Vaylin, his face twisting from controlled frustration into pure, unfiltered rage.
"DO YOU NOT SEE THIS?!" Vaylin screamed, his voice shaking with fury. "FOR MY WHOLE LIFE, EVERYTHING—AND I MEAN EVERYTHING—WAS CUT AND BROKEN BY MY DOMINION!" His frantic assault on the mask turned into a tantrum, his fists pounding against its surface.
His crazed eyes flicked toward Azul's katana. Unlike the masks, the blade had been dulled and chipped away by the relentless force of his rejection, but Azul's fox mask, the one he wore with such quiet strength, remained untouched by the brutal blows.
Vaylin raised his hand, poised for another strike, but he stopped just before the mask. A deep breath tore through him as he composed himself, though the hate in his eyes remained relentless.
"See, all it takes is convincing a daemon to slip into the mask, like some sort of passive observer. And just like that, it takes on the properties of the daemon. Their vast mana reserves condensing into something like impenetrable armor. And you people, with your so-called infinite wisdom, overlook it as just some mild benefit."
His voice quivered, and he shook his head in disbelief.
He paused, a bitter sneer creeping onto his face as his eyes darkened. "But no," he muttered, the words dripping with resentment. "I didn't have that luxury. I thought I could take it—take everything from you. I thought I could force the daemons to give me their power. So, I stole the masks of their dead thinking that would be enough."
Vaylin's gaze shifted to the mask in his hand, the purple energy crackling around it. "But what do I know? I never had their respect. They didn't care for me. They didn't give me their blessing, their trust. And because of that, no matter how hard I tried, I could never unlock the true potential they had to offer,
"I would only be left on the sidelines, watching as your clan exists as if the things I knew were nothing. Such power, right there at your fingertips, if you would only look."
Azul's eyes locked onto Vaylin, his voice a sharp edge of contempt. "So, is that why you used my mother to slaughter my clan? Simply out of envy and an obsession with power?"
Vaylin's aura flared again, but Azul continued, unrelenting.
"Our clan doesn't care about your twisted views on power. We would never exploit the daemons we've bonded with over generations to fuel your greed. You see our clan as foolish, but your tantrum is more foolish than any of us could ever hope to be."
The wind began to stir around him, as if echoing his rebellion. It surged, a raucous applause for his words.
"You are no man," Azul spat, his voice filled with pure disdain. "You're a child. A murderous, worthless cancer of a human being. There would be nothing more soothing to me—or to the souls of my ancestors—than to bathe in your blood."
Vaylin stood there, trembling with anger and shock, his aura tearing apart the surroundings. His fury seemed ready to erupt, but then, as if struck by a brilliant idea, it faltered for a moment. A sly grin began to stretch across his face.
"TROOOOOP!" Vaylin screamed, his voice echoing through the frigid air. From the forest, the two assassins reappeared, having recovered from being blown away. Their feet moved with swift agility across the snow as they rushed to their leader's side.
Vaylin's demeanor shifted again, his eyes now gleaming with pure malice and twisted joy.
"Grab the girl," his words echoed out like a haunting whisper.
Their violent clash between Vaylin and Azul reigniting, there clash filling the noise of the snowy sovereignty of the seemingly endless forest.