XXXXIII - The Lovers 1

The safe house was cloaked in shadows, the only sound was the steady rise and fall of my chest as I feigned sleep on the rumpled bed. To the untrained eye, it was the picture of vulnerability - a tempting target for the two mercenaries stalking their way closer.

"How pathetic," Romeo and Julio's voices echoed in unison, like some haunting chorus from the depths of hell itself. "Is this the great Diablo that presented himself as the seeker of truth?"

Their movements were a flawless mirror, every step, every gesture performed in perfect synchronicity. In a flash, their weapons - twin daggers that seemed to writhe with a sinister life of their own - lashed out towards the prone figure on the bed.

Only instead of rending flesh, the whips tore through an intangible mirage, and the form of that clone exploded in a maelstrom of tarot cards. A deep, mocking laugh reverberated around them as the wind carried the cards in a vortex.

"You'll have to do better than that, boys," my rich baritone rolled out from the shadows. The mercenaries whirled to find me lounging casually in a high-backed chair, long legs crossed as I inspected them with an amused smirk. "Lucky for you two, you just might get your chance."

Romeo and Julio eyed the reclining figure warily, daggers slipping into their hands in that perfect synchronized movement.

"So this is the great Diablo," their voices blended once more in that discordant harmony. "Not so impressive up close. Looks like we've got ourselves a little love triangle"

I laughed, my hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of my katana. "More like a love square, if you count the government pulling your strings."

In the blink of an eye, they separated - one sweeping in a whirling flurry of steel, the other circling to flank me from behind. Their blades seemed to cut the very air itself, slashing and stabbing with preternatural speed and coordination.

Yet I didn't so much as flinch, almost lazily rotating the chair to keep both assailants in view. I deflected each strike with almost contemptuous ease using my katana.

"You two are good - I'll give you that," I mused, my mocking smile never wavering. "But you're still just whelps playing at being wolves."

Gritting their teeth in shared frustration, Romeo and Julio linked hands, closing their eyes as they willed their very beings into synchronization. This time, when they struck - a sweeping cross slash followed by a flurry of thrusts - their forms blurred, their weapons multiplying in a dizzying kaleidoscope of whirling blades.

A heartbeat later, the chair was a shredded ruin, stuffing and splinters scattered in a wide berth around it. But where Eros should have been...nothing. Just the sudden stillness of the card storm, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

The deathly hush shattered with a haunting chuckle from directly behind them.

"My turn."

I barely had time to savor that momentary sense of triumph before instinct took over. Whirling with blinding speed, I brought my blade screaming down towards their exposed backs.

The sound of rending flesh and Romeo's anguished howl split the air like a thunderclap. His left arm - severed just below the shoulder - went spinning away in a gruesome arc, spraying crimson in its wake.

They managed to move and save their vital spots, but nevertheless, a hand lost is a bonus for me to turn this 2v1 into a fair fight.

Julio's face contorted in a rictus of rage and shared agony, his mouths moving in frantic unison to trigger...something. Their forms shimmered and blurred, melting and twisting into some hellish new amalgamation.

I stumbled back a step. Before my disbelieving eyes, a towering vision took shape, like something ripped straight from the nightmares of the ancient world as if the old god walked again with us.

Eight arms erupted from their conjoined bodies, each grasping a wicked curved blade that seemed to drink in the shadows. Romeo and Julio had become a grotesque mockery of the multi-limbed goddess Durga, their unified forms flickering between male and female in a dizzying, seizure-inducing strobe.

"Behold, Diablo," their voices rang out in a deafening chorus, at once beautiful and terrible. "Durga's Lovers ultimate technique - Loved by the Universe itself!"

I'll admit, despite the twisting unease in my gut, I couldn't help but be impressed by the sheer pageantry on display. These two were showmen through and through, seemingly plucked from the pages of an antediluvian fever dream.

"The goddess of destruction herself descending from Vaikuntha to take care of Diablo, not bad," I called out with a confidence I didn't quite feel, forcing a lazy grin. "Let's see if your little dance entrances Death herself, shall we?"

With a resounding war cry, their blades descended - a relentless, whirling vortex of shimmering steel. I moved on pure instinct, my katana becoming a blur of deflecting arcs and sweeping parries.

Feinting left, I managed to avoid the first keening slash, only to have to throw myself into an awkward sideways roll as a knee-height blade scythed towards my legs. Twin swords hammered down from above in quicksilver succession, driving me back in a shower of sparks and sheared steel.

On and on it went, a dizzying, breathless dance of death, their blades cleaving through space even as I twisted and contorted to avoid their fury. I was tiring rapidly, my arms burning from the exertion, sweat streaking my face.

Then, inevitably, the mistake - a misstep, a split-second lapse in my guard. That was all the opening they needed. Three blades swept in, impossibly fast and terribly precise.

I had just enough time for my eyes to go wide in shock and denial before fiery agony blossomed in my abdomen. The stench of my own seared flesh filled my nostrils as I looked down in numb disbelief at the trio of swords protruding from my torso.

 Above me, that titanic nightmarish form blotted out the world, the blades raised high in preparation for the final, killing stroke.

My fingers clenched weakly at the oozing wounds as I stared up into the gaping maw of oblivion. Was...was this it? Was this how the great Eros met his end, torn asunder by these preening prima donnas? Anger flared, mingling with bitter resignation.

No. Not like this...