Ignoring abilities, in terms of swordplay and quickness, he felt outmatched; as rapidly as he struck with his dagger, attempting to outmaneuver the hunter, he was rejected each ti.
’I hate to admit it, but he’s right. It’s like I’m fighting with one hand tied behind my back without having the others here. Still, I’ve never been one that liked having my battles fought for ,’ he thought.
[Skill Temporarily Obtained: (SR) "Limbs of The Abyss"]
As his dagger bounced back in the clash of steel, expelling sparks in the air, he watched the man rapidly approach. At the sa mont, the fleeting power activated through his body, granting itself to him as he called upon it–
Without knowing just what it was he obtained, he flexed his body, holding his hands in front of him:
From thin air, massive tentacles of abyssal flesh erupted into the mine, lashing out at the hunter. Amadeus quickly slipped back, having to duck beneath the thrashing limbs.
’This one is disgusting, but I’ll take it...!’ He thought, guiding the wild tentacles.
It was a strange feeling; the monstrous limbs felt like a sixth sense, controlling them with his will as they slamd against the walls of the cave. Even as he conjured a dozen of the tentacles, capturing the swift hunter in their reach was another challenge in itself–
"Allow to show you the grace of darkness."
–The proclamation from the Venator was manifested by a shift in his body; the nimble man flickered as a shadow, slipping past the thrashing tentacles. It wasn’t just that peculiar thod of movent; multiple versions of the hunter separated, allowing three doppelgangers to dash through the ss of tendrils.
’This is dark magecraft–? He’s using so form of short-distance warping and creating clones of himself...It’s a good thing I’ve watched too many damn fantasy shows!’ He thanked his past self as he pulled the tentacles in.
As the quickly-moving versions of Amadeus closed in, he reeled the abyssal limbs towards himself, creating a protective area around the spot he stood. Using them as a shield, he listened to the fleshy masses be cut away at by the many blades of Amadeus.
"Hiding behind these won’t save you," one Amadeus spoke from the left.
"Accept your fate, and I’ll make it quick," another Amadeus requested tiredly.
"It’s tragic watching you struggle. Please, just die," an Amadeus from behind begged.
Options raced through his mind, little as they were, as he listened to the orchestra of flesh being cut away, knowing it would only be monts before the Venator and his clones broke through–
[Temporary summoning over.]
–Sooner than he thought, the tentacles vanished into thin air, leaving him facing the enemy. In pure desperation, finding each version of Amadeus surrounding him from three different angles, he slamd his foot down.
The impact produced a shock wave that rippled through the gravel, giving him enough space to dash between the duplicated hunter.
Right behind him, he felt the blades swing, forcing him to slide, "Temporary Summon: Greek Mythology!"
[Temporary Greek Mythology Summoning Initiated.]
He slid around, briefly on one knee as he discovered two versions of the hunter right behind him. Both arms were held in front of him as he flexed his biceps, triggering the seals inked onto his skin–
"Go!" He shouted in desperation.
The twin beasts of fire and lightning manifested from his tattoos, each one catching a version of Amadeus in their elental jaws. To his surprise, both of the doppelgangers dispersed into black ink as the ethereal dragons carried them off.
’Those were the fakes–?’ He realized.
As he reduced the numbers, the fact remained he lost track of the original Amadeus, quickly dismissing the twin dragons as he looked around.
"Ghh!"
Before he discovered where the man lurked, the pain that centered in his abdon answered that question for him. He gasped out, looking down as he found the blade sticking through the right side of his stomach.
Looming over his shoulder, the dejected man spoke with a saddened tone, "Let this be the end of your suffering, O’ unfortunate soul."
A thousand, jumbled thoughts ran through the young man’s mind, most of which posed the sa question–"Am I going to die?" The only conclusion he could co to was to dismiss his dagger, freeing both hands as he spread his arms out.
Pushing his arms past their maximum strength, he slapped both of his palms together–
The shock wave rippled from the point of impact, blowing the Venator away, at the cost of his blade practically tearing its way out of his stomach.
’Shit...!’ He thought, grabbing at the wound, feeling the blood gush against his hand.
As he attempted to move, he winced, feeling his head ring from the recoil of his own shock wave as blood trickled down his lip from his nostril.
’Calm down...Stop the bleeding–at least for now,’ he ordered himself.
With a deep breath, he manipulated the area around the wound, managing to force the gash shut, though it was only a re bandaid. He could feel his internal organs were in disarray within his body as crimson still leaked from the forcibly-shut stab.
As he summoned his dagger back into his hand, he faced the approaching Venator, breathing heavily as he still held his stomach. It was obvious; he was easy pickings–
The light of endless possibilities touched down between the two combatants into a pillar of radiance that cast itself away:
A towering beast with the man of a body, clad in black, bristly fur and the head of a bull. In its hand, it carried an inhumanly large, golden axe, as if made to fell redwood trees in a single strike.
He looked upon its scar-layered back, finding himself thankful it was on his side.
[Familiar Temporarily Obtained: (SSR) "The Minotaur"]
"Oh?--That’s a new one," Amadeus remarked, stepping back in fearful awe.
The ground shook; the man-bull charged without so much as a second thought, exuding steam from its nostrils. A swing of its axe stirred the mines as if they were inside the upset stomach of a colossal beast.
Amadeus slipped out of the beast’s range, watching gravel be flung in every direction, "--You’re still holding on! For what?! All of this struggling, pointless and ugly–tell , what is so important to you that you can’t just accept death?!"
As the berserk minotaur swung the axe as casually as a plastic blade, Amadeus slipped between the touches of certain death, slashing at the beast’s body in retaliation. Every strike by the Venator only left small, shallow lacerations that only seed to ignite the beast’s rage.
"Death is not the sorrow you believe it is! It’s a beautiful end; the continuation from life–so welco it! End this painful life you cling to!" Amadeus shouted through the mines, slipping between the minotaur’s legs.
As he cut at the back of the beast’s legs in a graceful motion, the man-bull collapsed, leaving the Venator returning to his feet. It was only as he looked around did Amadeus co to a realization, looking at the veins of azure runes, baskets filled with the mineral, dead soldiers, but no sign of the Outlander.
"Where?--" Amadeus mouthed the confusion swirling in his mind.
It was the single thought implanted in the hunter’s mind before he spat blood from his lips, hardly having the opportunity to register the pain. From the unseen, the Outlander revealed himself, breathing heavily as he held his own wound still.
"You–" Amadeus strained.
Gael breathed out, pulling the dagger out of the man’s abdon, "Doesn’t feel too nice being stabbed in the gut, does it? Hurts like a bitch."
[Temporary summoning over.]
He moved back, fumbling his own footing as he tried not to collapse, watching the Venator stumble in the sa manner as both of their stomachs spilled.
Amadeus leaned forward, nearly tripping over his own feet as he held his skewered abdon, checking his own hand as it was utterly drenched in his own crimson, "Aaaah...It seems we’ll both be eting the angels soon."
"That’s a funny joke, coming from one of you," Gael muttered faintly, though unable to reject the reality of the situation.
At least, the Venator displayed so sense of humor as he chuckled at the Outlander’s remark, looking at him with eyes that held little fear for his inevitable fate, "I have not deceived myself into believing I will be treated fondly in the afterlife. The angels will judge us, and decide from there."
Gael watched the blood escape the hunter’s wound much more fiercely than his own, knowing in a matter of ti, he’d be the last one standing, "...Being realistic is nice."
If he could just buy ti, the outco would be certain–he knew that much, being able to slow down his own bleeding internally.
Amadeus stood there, straightening himself up as he looked at the glistening ceiling of the cave, "If this is how it is ant to end, then I suppose this is my last chance to play."
"Play...?" Gael repeated.
"My recital," Amadeus answered, holding his blood-soaked hand out towards the Outlander.
The wind shifted; an eerie coldness ran rampant through the cave. All at once, the space around them distorted as though the curtains on reality were peeled.
No, it was the opposite, he realized; curtains were being draped over reality. A single blink of his eyes brought him from the scenery of the glowing cave to an unfamiliar one.
Of pristine, marble ways and velvet carpet, with hundreds of seats that all faced the stage, he found himself standing at the end of a vibrant concert hall.
’What is this...? So sort of illusionary magic? It feels so real, though...’ He thought.
On the stage was a pristine piano, and the bleeding Venator, only now wearing a neat, black suit and snow-white bowtie.
Amadeus ran his slender fingers over the keys as if caressing a loved one that had been lost for countless years, "...I will now begin my final recital. Please, enjoy."
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