A Short Lived Peace, Part 2

Terra was serving beer and other beverages whilst talking with her customers. It was actually a rather peaceful and quiet day, sunny too, unlike all the other days of the season. Elena and Sherry only wanted to cuddle with their girlfriends; Helena was out on a job with Daisy, Leviathan, and Carla; Mira was flooding up the room with her unpredictable weather magic, striking unsuspecting guildmates with her undiscriminating lightening. It was so usual that you hardly noticed it anymore.

So, when Idris suddenly stood up sending the chair cluttering to the floor, almost everyone took notice of it. Oh, the master must be approaching. Terra chuckled to herself.

Out of everyone in the guild—maybe in all of Elios—Idris was the only person that wasn't a grandmaster or part of the royal family that could feel another's magical essence. Terra was a little surprised when she saw the look on his face. He looked angry—yeah, but that was normal—and a little worried.

"Idris…" Terra called. "Is something wrong?" She questioned the tanned man.

He didn't answer. Idris just stood there watching the guild doors, his shoulders bunched up, fists clenched at his sides. His body tensed up as he anticipated the coming threat—like a dog ready to bite.

For a minute the guild was filled with silence, except for a few unnoticeable sounds; chairs scrapping over wood floors, people taking slow sips of their drinks, the hushed whispers among patrons—boring details.

Idris moved his head like he could hear something they couldn't. Eyes closed in concentration; head tilted towards the direction of the assumed noise. They all waited with bated breath. A minute. Two.

Three… Six. And then they heard it—screams of absolute anguish.

The guild didn't feel so peaceful anymore.

…

They were under attack.

No—they were under siege.

A figure clad in crimson armour—dyed in the blood of the countless women he slaughtered—stood centred around a mountain of corpses each wearing the faces of their fallen sisters.

He held two obsidian dadao swords. They could have been identical if not for the unusual spiralling runes that wrapped the entirety of one of the blades, covering it in a blanket of enchantments.

Once flourishing buildings now reduced to crumbling ruins. The streets were littered with bodies, shells, hollowed blades, and destruction. Red, Grey, and Silver were the new colors of what was once a serene, rich city, that has now become the stage of a large-scale assault. The air that once smelt of citrus and delicate flowers, now smelt of death, blood, and decay. There was no coming back from this.

With the uncertainty of battle coursing through their minds the Elisodian warriors continue to fight like their lives depend on it, which they do. Some have succumbed to hysteria and are mumbling things about home and family, while others fight merely for the sake of survival. The toll on both nature and humanity is tremendous. It'll likely take ages before the city would have recovered. Its clear explosion holes, blood, and bodies have taken the place of residential buildings, street posts, and stores.

This death and destruction were caused by one man. Just. One. Man.

"Belle…" Idris breathed out.

His heart stopped. There buried underneath the rubble of wood and stone was Annabelle—she had no last name, she was an orphan—a twelve-year-old Elisodian mage in training. She joined only a mere week ago, she was supposed to be his responsibility; his guildmate to train and protect… seems like he failed. Raising his right arm towards the unmoving soldier, Idris uttered two simple words.

"Mentis Corruptelam." Mind Distortion.

…

If Elena was asked to explain what happened, she wouldn't even know where to begin. One minute they were running towards the armed man, when suddenly everything around them fluttered and the landscape changed colours from dark red to gloomy grey and completely black and white, repeating the same pattern over and over again.

"W-what?" Amelia stuttered when suddenly it felt like everything was upside down, trees seemed like they uprooted themselves from the earth and floated in dizzying circles. The surrounding buildings looked like they were melting, spreading all around in the sky and mixing up with dark clouds.

The wind howled eerily as lamp posts, street benches, tamed plant life and vehicles started to bend and fly around.

"Who's doing all this?!" Renata questioned. Dodging a stray taxi heading her way, she clapped her hands together, before saying the spell, "Spiritus Ruptura." Spirit Rupture.

"Gilgamesh!" She shouted.

The distorted space began to quake. Tarred roads began to ripple like a once calmed sea disturbed by a single water droplet. From the depths of the makeshift portal came an enormous armoured arm; it reached out its hand towards the fighting knight fingers stretched at the ready to capture him.

He fought to no avail as metallic fingers wrapped around his struggling form. Once trapped in its grasp, the giant tightened its hold, squeezing at his protected body. The armour did nothing to stop his bones from creaking and his organs from bursting—he died within seconds.

…Or that was what was supposed to happen.