On the way to the conservatory, there were two figures running, armed to the teeth, covered with pads on their arms and legs. Blades, guns, and loaded magazines fastened to their belts were tossed whenever an enemy dared to hinder their path.
Red and purple lights flashed, crackled, and exploded, bringing forth the smells of burnt wood, leaves, and roasted meat. The air was suffused with an acrid and suffocating aroma, making those who inhaled it sickened in their stomachs.
The enemy that mistakenly branded them as weak prey saw their display of might, and their resolves weakened, fleeing immediately at the sight of them, like mice seeing a nest of ferocious snakes.
"On the left," Dante reminded him before dodging the oncoming vines, akin to the fangs of predators about to pierce his shoulders and lower limbs. A small fireball thrown at the culprit exploded upon contact with the wooden surface with a loud bang.