dev 14 - the warfare

It is the final hour. The sound of marching boots shakes the very land, all moving towards Dawn - nearly three thousand men and woman, and among them are some of the finest magi Agartha has to offer. They are led by the (recovering) Thera Elisheva, and overhead the black wings of Huangzhou's demi-angel can be seen.

All of Dusk's remaining forces are gathered here. Beaten, broken, but ready to defend their home until the last breath.
[Narrate]

Today might be his last chance to find the challenge he seeks.

But when he walks, he knows he will be among those piercing the line for the last time. After all, previous soldiers had already taken upon the first line of defense - it was his own responsibility and those that were still available to make the difference.

For that, they might need all the strength they can gather.

Beaten and broken, what would be viewed as evil has to be left no quarter. So long as they would still be able to grasp on any other straws, they would definitely recover, and that cannot happen, not again. When the Shenlong walks, the skies rupture- they darken to Dusk's already gloomy atmosphere, the thunder roaring above them.

It would be a perfect opportunity to attune to the core he drew upon his circuitry.

"So close, I can almost feel it.."

The tiniest of mutters behind the mask, and he looked upon the skies. Should they regret the bloodshed that is about to happen? No... there was no other way. So long as Sors Ultovex and his empire persisted, there can be no peace. A crackle of thunder, a loud boom that echoes somewhere in the distance. The storms were nearing close with each step Keitaro took.

The wind was howling,
and the skies would burn.
(Keitaro)

Was it right to shed blood?

In his earlier years, he dreamed to be a hero... to save those wronged by many different things in their life. It's then that he learned how much Agartha ruthlessly crushes everyone who wasn't ready to accept its brutal paradigm of survival of the fittest. If anything, the concepts of good and evil have been long thrown out...

And why does he fight? It's because Akasha seeks to enslave others. He wasn't keen on being a slave.

Besides... the combat makes people grow, evolve. It is precisely why he's here, why he's looking for the enemy. Amidst the burning skies, the electrical cages that were smiting everything in his wake and call, a particular magi was spotted. He approaches...

"I know you."

The Shenlong speaks from behind the mask. Now, whether such knowledge was mutual or not is another tale... but what would it matter? He came here to fight, and he would fulfil that destiny.

"I'm not sure why you embrace ideology of Akasha... to enslave humanity. Is it appeal to your god?" He gazes upon his green leylines. "Is it desperation, in the face of adversity that is about to swallow you?"

"Or perhaps, your own selfishness?"

The flare of his eyes turned blazing blue. Like the true embodiment of thunder and storm, the skies were weeping all around him- the winds were howling, and the lightning bolts cascaded all around them, threatening to break the ground any given moment...

"No matter."

Something stirs. Something unnatural... it was the echo of the Lightning Core which he imbued upon his circuits. It pained him greatly, overloading his body, but he had to learn how to copewith it. This should be his final test.

"Come at me. Give me what I seek."
(Keitaro)

Destroy...

The words of their leader comes over the crowds that would soon clash. Demanding the annihilation of that which opposed them, simple and unforgiving. It meant their people would try and rid Agartha of that which he stood for. The Statue of Azrael, literature about his beliefs and people, his own...

As he thought about that which is being threatened he reaches to his cloak. Retrieving a vial from the depths of his cloak that is of a deep scarlet coloring. The cork popped off and the opening of it brought to his lips. Liquid rage entering him to mix with what is natural.

His rieka flares brighter and more powerful than ever before.

He then takes a step forward, his weapon raising and wings developing at his back. They bring him into the air with a flap over the others nearby, aside from the other few of his kind and the demi-angels. His eyes look over those ahead for his target. And then he meets Keitaro.

They stand before him, masked and with the power of the storms.

The grip on Fragarach tightens as he prepares himself, his expression drowning in the anger that he feels in the moment. Raw rieka continuing to flow out of him with a certain boundless potential. One that he wants to push to his limit, soon. As much as forced.

"All of what you said and more..."

He says before suddenly taking in a deep breath, roaring as he sends himself forward with the Wings of Azrael at his back.
(Feth Grauhimmel)

The battle was bloody.

So much, that each cut delivered by Feth was bringing about Keitaro closer and closer to his own loss, but the dragon would endure; it was his specialty, after all, to endure anything that goes his way. And with each cut that would try and slash away his flesh... instead, Feth's blade was dulled against the formidable defences of the dragon.

"More..?"

His heart stirs. There was beauty in thunder, in how the skies were weeping... to some degree, it was combat that could lead to one of magi meeting their untimely demise, but both sides of the battlefields still had many soldiers coming along. The rage of the dragon sings its own song, crackling thunder each time he strikes against Feth.

"You don't know how it's like to be free, do you?"

Thud, thud, thud... a hit after hit. Perhaps, Keitaro was nowhere as much close quarter combatants as Feth, his own fists were often engulfed in crackle of lightning, allowing to dish out immense pain and damage- no doubt, by now his flesh would be ruptured, blowing out new flesh wounds that would leave him scarred.

If the Oscuri didn't know better, it could be almost seen as he's fighting against blade.

It's similar to the very Demon he once encountered. Perhaps, he has taken after him, for his lightning strikes just as painful- perhaps moreso, all due to his own innate blessings. A cut after cut, the blood drips... drip, drip. But was it anywhere close to being over?

Oh, no. Not yet.

A hum that protrudes from Keitaro's back. Engulfed in blue light, the electrifying field was made- a quick dash to Feth, and yet another blow was delivered; to some degree, it could be almost perceived as a killer blow, intended right at his heart and lungs... but somewhere along the line, he missed. He couldn't land it just right.

The lightning goes through, singing his flesh.

But with that? He's flung towards his own reinforcements. This would not be the day his journey ends... yet, it could be very well Dusk's final night.

"Tch…"

"Close."

A brief glance elsewhere. The battle continued... he must still fight.
(Keitaro)

The Allied Forces prevail.

The final battle is decisive and clean, overpowering their foe in magi strength and numbers alike. They were fully prepared for a siege and saw it through to the end. All soldiers have their orders, secure key locations, capture any enemies, and defeat anyone that refuses to submit.

Dusk has been conquered.

Almost immediately, the military of Levengard, Huangzhou, and Gehenna begins securing the city. They have particular orders to burn the churches and any religious texts on Azraelism.
[Narrate]

The skies didn't weep for nothing.

Returning in robes that were mixed in crimson- most of which did not belong to him- the Shenlong endures. Whatever trials this combat has prepared for him, thankfully, he was successful. But what would exactly happen now? Surely, there's something to follow up with...

And that becomes terribly clear the moment churches are set ablaze and religious texts are given to fires. What is lightning then, but refined fire? When given that option, the skies crackle with thunder once more, the fingertips of his hands allowing powerful lightning to escape and set the churches on fire alongside with those tasked by such thing. If he had known one truth, it's the fact that you cannot leave anything that would let your enemy recover.

Everything of that culture must go.

Only once it's ablaze, he returns, with the back of his body humming and glowing in blue light- it was the aftermath of previous binding he's done, something that perhaps allowed him to exceed his usual limits. It pained him greatly with the first time use, but no pain would deter him from enjoying the victory for now.

"...Finally."

The tiniest of mutters. Silent, the mask would hide the features of Shenlong. All he does is look up to the light rain in the skies, the testament to how far he climbed... and yet, this doesn't feel enough.

This should be the end of a chapter,
but it's far from ending the story.
(Keitaro)