Purge (3)

Alaric stood amidst the swirling currents of cosmic energy, his senses attuned to the unseen machinations that unfolded before him. With a deliberate motion, he lifted the veil of suppression from his cosmic eyes, allowing the world to be bathed in a kaleidoscope of vibrant hues. To the normal eye, it was a moment of silence, an invisible struggle for dominance over the swirling energies that danced in the air. But to Alaric, it was a symphony of power, a ballet of cosmic forces that he alone could perceive visually.

Before him, Edith stood as a beacon of power, her presence radiating with intensity. Alaric couldn't help but marvel at her prowess, even as he prepared to face her head-on. It was all according to plan—he had orchestrated the illusion of a struggle for control, allowing Edith to unwittingly reveal the extent of her cosmic energy.

Yet, even as he watched her command her forces with practised precision, Alaric knew the limitations of his own abilities. The Aetherblade Nyx, gleaming in his hand, was a symbol of his intent to clash blades with her, but he was under no illusion of his skill with the blade. It was a mere prop, a facade to bolster Edith's belief of an incoming swordfight and to give the illusion of strength in the face of overwhelming odds.

As Edith extended her hand, a signal for her forces to charge, Alaric felt a surge of anticipation ripple through the air. Alaric's lips curved into a self-assured smile as he extended his own hand, the Aetherblade pointed towards Edith like a silent challenge. With a nod of his head, the Duchy forces surged forward, their movements precise and coordinated. The clash of steel, the thud of bodies colliding—it was the cacophony of battle, a primal symphony that echoed through the chamber. Some of Edith's men remained stationary, perhaps recognizing the futility of resistance in the face of overwhelming odds of escape. Chaos erupted in the chamber, the air thick with the tang of metal and the crackle of elemental energies.

"No worries," Alaric murmured to himself, his voice barely audible over the din of battle. He knew the rules of engagement—projectiles and augmentation only, anything else may result in friendly fire. It was a delicate dance, a balance between asserting authority and minimizing unnecessary bloodshed. As he watched the chaos unfold before him, Alaric remained resolute in his determination to emerge victorious, no matter the cost.

Alaric's heart pounded in his chest with excitement as he faced Edith, his adversary, across the battlefield. Her icy gaze bore into him, unyielding and filled with a deadly determination. The air crackled with tension, each moment pregnant with the promise of violence.

As he took the first step towards her, Alaric felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He knew that this confrontation would test his skills like never before, but he was prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead. With each stride, he closed the distance between them, his eyes never wavering from hers.

As Alaric advanced, the ground seemed to pulse beneath his feet, echoing the steady rhythm of his determined stride. Each footfall sent minute vibrations rippling through the earth. His gaze remained fixed on Edith, unwavering and unyielding.

Around them, the battlefield erupted into chaos, the air thick with the acrid scent of ozone and the metallic tang of spilt blood. Ice projectiles materialized beside Edith with an almost ethereal grace, their crystalline forms catching the light before hurtling towards their target. Yet, despite the impending onslaught, Alaric remained composed, his focus honed on the task at hand.

As the first volley of icicles descended upon him, time seemed to slow to a crawl. With a deft gesture, Alaric summoned the power of the storm, tendrils of electricity crackling to life around him in a dazzling display of raw power. The air hummed with energy as lightning arced outward, meeting the incoming projectiles with a resounding clash.

The collision was nothing short of spectacular, a symphony of light and sound that echoed across the battlefield. Shards of shattered ice mingled with the crackling energy of the lightning, casting a kaleidoscope of colours across the blood-stained earth. For a fleeting moment, amidst the chaos and destruction, there was a semblance of beauty—a visual display of the awesome power wielded by those caught in the throes of battle.

Undeterred by the chaos unfolding around him, Alaric pressed onward, his determination unwavering in the face of adversity. Each step brought him closer to his adversary, his movements calculated and precise. Despite the relentless barrage of ice projectiles raining down upon him, he remained steadfast, his resolve unshakeable as he closed the distance between them.

As Edith's lackeys moved to impede his progress, Alaric moved with the fluid grace of a seasoned warrior, his movements precise and swift amidst the chaos of battle. With swift and precise strikes, he dispatched his foes with ruthless efficiency, leaving a trail of broken bodies in his wake.

But even as victory seemed within reach, Edith unleashed her final gambit—a feline beast, summoned from the shadows behind her. The creature prowled towards him with an almost supernatural grace, its eyes gleaming with feral intensity. Yet, even in the face of this formidable opponent, Alaric remained undaunted, his gaze locked onto Edith's with unwavering resolve. Alaric's voice cut through the chaos, it carried with it an air of quiet confidence, a stark contrast to the tumultuous scene unfolding around them. His words, laden with both challenge and disdain, hung in the air like a lingering echo, demanding a response that Edith seemed unwilling to give.

With a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips, Alaric continued to advance, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on his adversary. There was a certain audacity in his demeanour, a boldness born of unwavering conviction and unyielding resolve. Despite the gravity of the situation, he exuded a sense of calm assurance, as though victory were already assured. He was a soldier at heart.

"You disappoint me, Edith," he called out, his voice carrying a hint of mockery. "I expected more from someone of your reputation. Is this truly the best you can do?" His words hung in the air, a challenge laid bare for all to see, yet Edith remained silent, her expression unreadable amidst the chaos.

Alaric's taunts were met with only silence, a silence that spoke volumes in its own right. Yet, despite the lack of response, he pressed on undeterred, his determination unyielding in the face of adversity. He had come too far to be dissuaded by mere silence, too determined to let anything stand in the way of his ultimate goal.

"You may be quiet, Edith, but I've heard whispers of your intelligence," Alaric continued, his tone tinged with a note of grudging respect. "They say you're just as smart as Voss, though perhaps not quite as cunning. Still, you were my first target for a reason. I have much to do, and I'll make this quick."

His words carried a weight of finality, a grim acknowledgement of the reality of their situation. There was no room for hesitation, no time for second-guessing. In the heat of battle, every decision carried consequences, every action a potential turning point.

"I hope this is all your strength," Alaric remarked, his voice tinged with genuine regret. "It would be a pity for you to die without so much as a struggle. You don't deserve such an ignoble fate." With that, he raised his sword, the Aetherblade Nyx gleaming with an otherworldly light, poised to strike at the heart of his enemy.

°°°°

As Edith summoned the Umbral Panther, she couldn't shake the growing sense of unease that had settled in the pit of her stomach since the beginning of the battle. It gnawed at her, a persistent reminder of the formidable opponent that stood before her. Alaric Astreaus, son of the Grand Duke of the Eastern Duchy—his very presence seemed to exude a regal aura that belied his youthful appearance.

The stories she had heard of his family's transcendent prowess echoed in her mind, painting a picture of individuals who stood at the pinnacle of human existence. But facing him now, she realized that those stories had scarcely done justice to the reality of his presence. He was no mere boy; he was a king, a commander and possibly a warrior of renown in the making. In his own right, commanding respect and instilling fear with every step.

Alaric's taunts hung in the air, but Edith remained resolute, her focus unwavering even as he vanished from her sight. Instinct guided her as she leapt backwards, narrowly evading the arc of his dark blade with a sinister purple hue poised to cleave through the space she had just vacated.

The Umbral Panther sprang into action, lunging at Alaric from the depths of his own shadow. But what Edith witnessed next defied belief—Alaric met the creature's attack head-on, his fist colliding with its paw in a clash of titanic strength.

A thunderous impact reverberated through the air as the Umbral Panther retreated, vanishing into another shadow. Edith watched in disbelief as the boy's skin bore the scratches of their encounter, blood trickling down his hand but nothing more, his monstrous physique proving to be more than a match for her familiar's onslaught. Alaric's attention returned to her, his figure blurring with inhuman speed as he closed the distance between them once more and launched another assault.

This time, however, Edith was prepared. As Alaric's blade clashed with the Umbral Panther's claws, she seized the opportunity to launch her own counterattack. Her blade descended toward his head, but Alaric's knee met the panther's jaw with swift precision, deflecting the blow just enough to intercept her strike.

The impact reverberated through her arm, leaving it numb with the force of their collision. Yet even as she grappled with the disorientation, Edith sensed a vulnerability in Alaric's technique—a rawness in his skill with the blade that offered a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.

But any semblance of relief was short-lived as Alaric's fist hurtled toward her with flawless form, leaving her little time to react. In a desperate bid to defend herself, Edith summoned her final familiar-type heritage—a monstrous creature with the body of a praying mantis and the tail of a scorpion.

The creature's front legs moved to block the incoming blow, its bulk absorbing the force of the impact with a shuddering thud that reverberated through the ground beneath them. As the dust settled, Alaric's voice cut through the air, a grim acknowledgement of the escalating stakes of their confrontation.

"You are now taking this seriously," he remarked with chilling resolve. "Very well then, I will oblige."