First War Battle

The Tempest was leading an army of Aetherius behind himself, the furious Fell Wind circling him just like it always does before any sort of combat- a thunder before the storm, if anything.

For all he knew, this storm would be deciding the fate of Agartha today. If they were successful in pushing through Ardent's defences, it could finally mean the end to the opposition - and at last, the Agarthan civilization could truly rise.

But the Archon learned to never underestimate his foe. Every single time he shed blood, and every single time his blood was shed, he needed to adapt, to learn something new- and overwhelming strength of magi that he faced off against had certainly taught him that the battle is never won until the final push is over.

His gaze pointed back at his army, he knew that he had to speak. This could be his last day, for all he knew that he will be heavily focused as the Lord of Aetherius- or instead, it could be the lastdays of Ardent.

Only fate will tell.

"People of Aetherius."

"We're approaching the enemy territory, the perimeter of Ardent's defence. Fight like there's no tomorrow, fight like your life depends on it- for all intents and purposes, it truly does."

"Fight to reclaim, to conquer. Our civilization must rise."

"And no Ardent scum shall bother us no more."

Seeing the approaching forces, the crimson hues sparked up, nigh akin to the bloodlust that pumped within the heart of Occult. He had to prepare himself for this, and what's better than to immerse himself in a proper mood?

With his booming voice, the command was given- with extension of his blade, he pointed to Ardent's army.

"Charge!"
(Zaruma)

Zaruma was hunted.

The speck upon the the world that is the Siren is barely a blip within the eye of the Archon, this he is sure.

Perhaps it is the only reason why the man is able to get so close. Violently purging through lesser after less, the man rushes forth through the fray.

"Zaruma!" The only reason Pasis knew the man's features were because of Vaj'rin's antics--and the small display he had given in Silver Lake. A violent energy swirls around him as the grand Dao levies himself against the Archon admist it's powerful stride.

Pasis was not much by himself. Yet he charges--

--and is yet somehow not alone.

A violent hesitation falls before Pasis as he gazes at the fae who comes to the same spot--his features going pale and ghastly.

No--

That's not good.

The blade switches between the Fairy and the Archon for just a brief moment before it fixates upon Zaruma, Pasis knocking back achemical and screaming towards the fae.

"We can end this! We can end this right now! We can save Ardent and everyone in it! My people! My belongings! My homes and my friends!

But I need you to promise me! Promise me one thing!"

From Pasis' pocket comes a violent and chaotic gemstone of Umbral Lord powers. A shard of the Umbral Lord.

It thrums with power.

"I need your support on what I'm about to do! I need you to keep this all a secret! We fell him now, and we save thousands!

PROMISE ME!"
(Pasis)

Pasis drinks a Rage Potion!

The Archon, no doubt, would be focused down in the fighting that took place on Ardent plains- for the magi of his tier, Fourfold would devote several magi at once to take them down.

And that much Zaruma expected. Seeing the arrival of two, his brows furrowed. There was a shred of doubt in his eyes, a shadow cast over his heart, pondering - should he flee altogether, or should he stand his ground?

Normally, it would be plausible to flee. After all, he's to save his life. But--

Amidst the combat, amidst this bloody battlefield? No. He couldn't abandon his troops just like that. For all the years he's been around humans, even if he was born a beast of Occult, there was something different in him, a part of humanity that he took in - a sense of honour, of having to fight for his own ideals.

Even if their ideals were so different, he decided to face this challenge.

Alone.

"Very well."

"Then come, and earn your glory - whether it's by felling the Tempest, or dying to it."

His gaze sparked of bright crimson, preparing himself for combat. The Chaotic energies swirled him, soon succumbing the Archon in a state akin of controlled battle frenzy- he'd have gone silent, but his mind worked this entire time, spotting the weak spots in them.

It's time for brutality.
(Zaruma)

The gem is tossed into the air...

It glimmers in the night, twinkling it's corrupted energies through the sunlight above--refracting a dark, corrupted rainbow.

And then, from the Siren, comes a burst of corrupted mana.

Sin.

Where once Zaruma had two healthy, daemonic eyes now did his rightmost feel mechanical--ripped from the socket and replaced by a fell arcana.

Where Pasis' eye was mechanical, there it sat Zaruma's own accursed eye.

Zaruma had been robbed.

"Go! Now!"

Onward the man went, rushing after Zaruma.
(Pasis)

The fairy was a brilliant yet nauseating blur of colour as she flew above the battlefield, violent beams of searing mana following in her wake as she cut through the swathes of lesser demons that marched in the name of Gaiar Aetherius.

Truly disgusting creatures, foul and verminlike; how could people willingly agree to fight alongside this infestation? Disgraceful, truly.

The Faerie soon found herself within a break in the combat, an odd phenomenon, but she soon discovered why; before her stood the Archon who lead Aetherius itself, the terrifying Zaruma.

Thankfully, she did not stand alone, for alongside her stood a spirited sirenian, blade in hand and magic manifested; perhaps this was their chance to end this monster's tyranny at last?

But then the siren spoke, frenzied words, desperate words, and from within his clothing he withdrew quite the taboo piece, something that likely would have turned some away from him-

Itwas a good thing she was quite the unorthodox Fae.

"Do as you must, this is our chance, we shall put an end to the tyranny of Aetherius and restore peace upon this land!"
(Enmeisha)

The battle was rough to the Archon, but yet, he found focus in his wrath- he found resolve in his wounds- he found faith in his ability.

Fighting much like a cornered beast, the duo of magi were able to get the best out of Zaruma. Truly, he fought with all his might, he pulled with all his strength, and he showed no mercy in his strikes. The constant glow of crimson in his eyes could only remind them that they were fighting a beast, not just a man.

And that beast has proven too much for them.

Finding them weakened, Zaruma found a point of weakness, the purple blood spilling from his wounds only fuelling his rage- the Fairy was dealt a sudden blast of wind, a dark one at that, and it proved too much for her to handle. After all, once she was weakened by Zaruma's blows, she could not withstand it, felling to his magics.

"SUFFER ME NOW!"

The Fairy was dealt with, but battle was not over. His mind had almost forgotten another opponent in his fury...

Yet- the Sirenian was noted, particularly, for his ability of Greed. It wasn't the first time that Zaruma dealt with such, no; the likes of Caesar and Brazha had shown him their power before, and he knew very well what he's dealing with.

With the Sirenian's approach, the scythe was suddenly launched across his abdomen, much like a flying blade- cutting him deep, it was enough to weaken him, and with the sudden pull, it was drawn backwards with the force of Telekinesis, piercing his back as well.

Before he knew it, the Tempest leapt at him, bending Pasis to his knees, and loudly exclaiming.

"YOU. WILL--"

"SUBMIT!"

And Pasis felt pain. A lot of pain. The gryphon marking, a bird of the prey, was planted upon his cheek along with the mark of hand- a shaming display of magi being humiliated like that, wounded and sapped of his life force while he's on his knees.

But perhaps it wasn't the worst. After all, being distracted by his own charade, Zaruma couldn't notice the approaching Fourfold reinforcements- it forced him to lose his grip on Pasis, and Fae could already have lots of time to escape.

-And while the Archon was busy fighting off those reinforcements, the magi were able to escape.

But at what cost? All these Fourfold soldiers would be slaughtered by Tempest as they run. The price of blood was inevitable.
(Zaruma)

It wasn't enough.

Not yet.

Blood pours over the battlefield. Over Pasis--and, likely, over the small fae that can't help but find itself stuck within the mists of blood that come from the Siren, even as corrupted as he was.

It was never going to be enough. The time in the cell had dulled Pasis. If he had been out plundering during that time--if he had been profiting. Pirating and briganding across the land, he'd have enough. There would be a difference between the Archon and the robber--the pair of chaos and fairy-blessings may have been able to overcome.

No matter how much agility he gives into his strikes, he's always too slow. No matter how much force he delivers, it's never enough. They weren't playing at the same level--biology wasn't dealing a fair hand.

Not even when Pasis stacks the decks as much as he can in his favor.

All corruption ceases with a vicious strike from Zaruma, the channeling ofthe energies fading as conciousness slowly fades for the briefest of moments. The daemonic eye upon Pasis' face pops violently out of the socket as the scythe swings down upon his gut, spilling further sickly-green blood of the Mer upon the ground as he scrabbles away.

Like a lighter that no longer works, the chaos inside only sparks lightly in his escape.

He had failed.

For this, his life was to be forfeit. If word got out--

There is only the lightest glance towards the Fae--one of both fear and pleading--before the man manages to drag himself away through the Praries.

Was it all to be lost?
(Pasis)

Enmeisha had fought before, yes; she had fought and won many a spar, and indeed she had won a few rather dangerous fights too, but she had never actually lost such a fight before.

In her mind, countless formulae were violently processed in any given nanosecond, haping her ley, defining her magic; from the nexus of colour that surrounded her, a deluge of energies was unleashed upon the Archon; Energy, the power of raw mana, Lightning, the power of electricity, Sound, the power of vibration, and the Faeorum Arcana, the power of the lifestream.

All proved inferior to the deathly wind wielded by the Archon king.

The Fourfold Fae's spectacles shattered as she was violently hurled into the wall, violent winds burning her very being as she crumpled onto the ground, her limbs barely moving as a deathly sensation of frailty overcame her...

Her vision was blurry, weak, she saw Pasis, held aloft by the archon only to be hurled aside as reinforcements arrived.

Weakly, she dragged her diminuitive form over to the siren, a hand falling upon his shoulder as weak motes of light flickered around it.

"Come come, we... We must flee, yes... Quick-..."

What little energy she had left was channeled into the Siren, the power of the Lifestream itself willing him to action.
(Enmeisha)

It was a struggle.

The Regent of Ardent was pushed backwards by the force of the kaor and the youth. There were groans, barely able to keep up with them. They found themselves blinded, acids eating away at their armor but.. The light grew brighter around Ikkaku.

"I am the Regent of Ardent.

You say I wanted this war, that I wanted bloodshed. No. I want a better world when there are creatures out there who destroy and destroy and destroy. You fly the flags of Gaiar, the flags of demons who invaded Ardent, who killed Elizabeth, Jadrako, Ravan, Paladin, so many more.. Dei.."

In a moment the blood in the Kaor's body freezes. The whip of blood connects with them, slicing them downwards before energy invades it's body, an unspeakable pain. The girl would be knocked down by sounds.

"If you want to survive, surrender now.. No.

I want peace. And I will make you peaceful. By force."

The blood around Ikkaku moves down, seeping both into Durohan and Fool's legs. It melts, rots, withers the flesh of their right legs, making it so they would be unable to further fight.. Maybe someone would save them.. But for now they would be stuck on the ground.

"Pass on my message. I will end this war. And it can either be through blood, or your surrender."

The whip of blood moves in Ikkaku's hands as they move back to Somnus.

"May you find the light within your next life.."

The whip once more comes down, severing Somnus' head from their body. The blood inside the occultic user would turn acidic, melting down into nothing more then mush and guts. Further and further until it lifts into the air and is stowed away into a bottle.

"Time to fly."

Ikkaku would move upwards, lifted up.

"I will allow no murders of the innocent to survive."
(Ikkaku Ukitake)

While the Archon was victorious in his own battle, and even though he was bathed in crimson and purple blood alike, he could feel the rush of combat soon fading. Something felt... very wrong, much like the essence of the world being ripped apart.

He felt it. There was a disturbance in Arcane, the life being taken- a powerful one at that, one that he actually held dear to himself. As much as Ardent propaganda can bid him a heartless monster, there was care for particular humans, for particular creatures in this wretched continent.

And after another soldier of Fourfold has fallen to his blade, he gazed over to far direction of where Ikkaku stood - and where Somnus was slain. It was then he felt something overcoming the dark heart of Occult that was beating in his chest, it was then that he felt something ripping him apart from within.

Strange... his wounds were not mortal, and yet he felt so, oh so much pain. Was it the grief, the anger, the rage that Ausar described to him?

But he had no time to ponder. Taken in the moment, the crimson hues of the Archon had come to glow with the bright light, the corrupting, crippling gaze almost terrifying Fourfold non-magi to immediately run from him.

He wrought Death, and his posture only promised as much.

"You-- YOU--"

"IKKAKU! GET BACK HERE YOU ROTTEN SCUM!"

"FACE ME YOU COWARD! FACE ME, YOU PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A REGENT! YOU HYPOCRITICAL, LOWLY MORON!"

There was an attempt to make it through, to dash past Fourfold soldiers- but Zaruma felt spears, blades driven in his body, the purple blood being spilled once more. To the daring Fourfold soldiers that attempted to hold him back, to cover the Regent's retreat to fly away? They were immediately killed with naught but a sweep of scythe.

Much like the reaper, he dashed through countless non-magi forces- and before they could overwhelm him, yet another, and another, and another soldier was killed. And any attempts to pile up on him? They were blasted away with Telekinesis.

Zaruma's rage knew no bounds. The Tempest itself attempted to chase down the Regent for what he did.

"GET BACK HERE YOU COWARD!"

Bloodied, swarmed by countless Fourfold soldiers that were dying like flies to him- and yet were soon forced to retreat so that they could not truly pile up on him- the Archon kept pursuing among the battlefield.

"GET FUCKING BACK!"
(Zaruma)

The sky blue eyes stare down from the skies towards Zaruma with the beat of the Angelic wings. Their gaze follows the field, watching it as a sound would ring out from the Regent.

 "Retreat!"

The head in Ikkaku's hands was held, the only piece of Somnus remaining. The rest of the blood had been dissolved into blood and placed into their vials. And it was in this flight that their gaze looked towards Zaruma. Their expression would be unable to read.

"Surrender now, or you will yourself with even more pain, Zaruma. I meant what I said those years ago. I am coming for you. You will be slain by my hand for the death of my friends, and the death of innocent people. I will not allow a creature of hatred and darkness to rule over innocent men and women.

Look forwards to the day when I spill your blood.

You want me? I will face you in the future. But it will not be at the risk of so many soilders and innocents."

The wings beat their last as Ikkaku flies towards Ardent, dispearing into the clouds of yore.
(Ikkaku Ukitake)

As much as Zaruma wished to keep pursuing Ikkaku, the countless stabs from spears and blades, the countless arrows stuck in his body were taking their toll- bathed in crimson and purple blood, the Archon began to lightly pant, feeling upon the injury that drained him of his lifeforce.

But it was not the physical injury he cared the most for, no. It was the torment of his mind, his soul that bothered him the most. Such hatred... he never experienced it before.

"WE WILL NEVER SURRENDER TO YOUR FALSE IDEALS. NEVER!"

Seeing Ikkaku fly, the Tempest attempted to take after him and fly in the air- if only to realize that he does not have the strength to do so. The Archon manages only a few meters, before he's brought down to collapse, the blood spilling all over him, seeping from his wounds too.

After battling several magi, after slaying the hundred, he could not keep up as if he was just as fresh. Another spill of blood over his mouth, but yet he had the strength to shout.

"YOU--"

"I'M GOING TO DO EVERYTHING THAT YOU DID TO ME, TEN TIMES MORE! I'LL BURN ARDENT, I'LL KILL EVERYONE YOU LOVE, I'LL CRUSH EVERYTHING YOU EVER DREAMED FOR."

"I'LL--"

A bloodied cough. The battle was brutal, and his body was finally giving in to the injuries. Panting, huffing and staring at the leaving forces, he exclaimed.

"I'll destroy you."
(Zaruma)