A volu of black blood burst out of Nicodemus's lips as his eyes remained red and widened blankly. They seed to hold the sa question his final expression betrayed of his thoughts during those monts.
'H...how...?'
All of a sudden, there were two brutal blades tearing through his flesh, skin and bones.
One halfway through his neck as grueso blood sputtered like a broken fountain pipe, and the other tore right through his torso from behind, crushing through his ribs and heart, along with the red gem embedded in it.
All of a sudden, there were two Masked Strangers coldly gazing down at him incomparably like old and ancient unfathomable creatures. Nicodemus felt the weight of those dark lightless slits in the mask that carried the indistinguishable gazes pressing against him from all corners.
All of the raging negative energy inside of him quickly began to disperse like scattered ash in the breeze, ebbing away along with the light of the living in his eyes.
The first Masked stranger — Victor, after a short mont of hesitation that only sohow managed to resemble a cold pause to the onlookers — withdrew the Silvery blade of the bastard sword from Nico's neck fluently without a word.
Black blood splattered into the air like a fountain, saring across the terrifying black mask like a swath of a morbid artist's brush against black canvas.
Then Hamlet shiftled slightly on his two feet and stoically did the sa.
This ti, since the great blade of the great sword was imnse, it's full weight almost the full length of Nicodemus's torso, it lifted his body partially of his feet by a few centiters.
As Hamlet somberly withdrew the great blade in such a manner like that, Nicodemus's body which was partially suspended and raised touched down on the tips of his transford feets unsteadily for two seconds, before sprawling to the ground like a used doll of lifeless limbs.
Nicodemus's eyes, full of confusion at that last mont, seem to flicker forward at the cadets with a distant emotion that could only be silently expressed at that mont of clarity.
'Ah...'
Nicodemus's body collapsed helplessly to the ground, leaving a massive, gaping cut running right across and through his entire torso from the top left of his chest to the bottom right of his side.
A thick black pool of blood pooled into a rippling, sticky black puddle, like mbrane underneath him, spreading outward rapidly in all directions.
A regular Demon had more than one heart, and an existential core which was the factor and most basic elent of it's entire being and existence. That is to say, even if all hearts of a Demon were crushed, stabbed, exploded or diced to pieces, as long as it's Core still remained, a Demon could revive endlessly with only a wide margin of risk.
But.
Nicodemus wasn't an actual Demon.
He was otherwise a human boy who fell in a contract with a Demon, and despite the alleged 'Demonification' process of adapting to the Demonic powers and ability granted and enjoyed, he was still fundantally, and existentially the sa — a human.
He had only one heart.
Yes, he also had a core, like any other Awakened, but still just one human heart.
Albeit Nicodemus's case could be considered unique under the circumstance that his 'Demonification' process was irregular, straying from what was allegedly the norms, caused by fusing his being with the mysterious Ancient Artifact, the Red Gem, in place of a heart.
In that case, Nicodemus's core existence as a unique case of a Demon Contractor, beca the Red Gem. And closely similar like a Demon's Core in this manner, if it was destroyed Nicodemus as well would cease to exists existentially — putting it lightly.
Putting it bluntly — he would die from having the Gem destroyed, as much as a man would die from having his heart stabbed through by a great sword.
And cease to exist, Nicodemus began to.
As the seemingly last will and vestige of unclear emotions vanished from his eyes as they grew grey, with his Core destroyed into oblivion, Nicodemus's mutilated corpse instantly grew dry and colourless.
It wasn't imdiately obvious in the pitch blackness of his skin and limbs, but the pulsing red veins, that snaked across his body from his torn open chest where the Red gem had been, forming scale like patterns at the beginning in his ti of liveliness, beca lightless and dull, loosing all radiance of power and spark of life.
Then fine, dry cracks spread across his entire greying body as his form began to collapse like a weathered structure made out of clay, or ash, and left in the stormy winds to dissolve back into fine particles.
As if, he was a poorly made statue by an artisan undeserving of praises and recognition, Nicodemus crumbled to pieces, weathering further as he beca ash that simply scattered into the air naturally on their own, becoming even tinier than the finest grains of sands until they were no more — until they were oblivion.
Even until the end, Nicodemus — or Zets the demon — had never left a corpse behind.
In fact, a Demom actually never did, so this process was in line, affirming truly once again for all those present to see and rember for the rest of their lives; at the end of his life, Nicodemus wasn't just any Demon Contractor — he could no longer even be called barely human...
All that was left behind was a still, unrippled pool of black blood, and resting untop of it was a very small fine red fragnt. It was a surviving piece of the Red Gem that glinted under Victor's gaze for only him to see.
But even that vanished into oblivon as well as the fragnt simply dissolved like ash into nothingness.
Victor stared at the last embers of red— the two Victors did actually — their faces, thoughts, and expressions hidden somberly behind the terrifying mask and an oppressive domineering pressure passively emited from it through their bearings.
It was even questionable for outsiders to wonder if what was behind the Mask — whatever it was— even had a face susceptible to be pinned to a possible thought.
Considering the way the mysterious stranger had coldy reaped the life of Nicodemus like a literal shadow of death, there was little chance nor possibility they felt or had any thoughts during that mont.
But anyone who had such thoughts as they stared at the figures of the Stranger — the second one that sprung out at the last minute to get the final hit on Nicodemus from behind, sinking back into the darkness and vanishing — was wrong.
Victor's mind and emotions under the Murmur's Mask was heavy and couldn't be lightly explained. As a result, even despite the effects of Imrsion being activated like a wall around his mind, there was breach wide enough to cause the harrowing effects of the Flaw to rapidly dig in even more further into his heart and soul.
Victor's body was already under imnse strain from his last series of battle leading up until now, barely even remotely beginning to recover and held together like a puppet on strings. But his eyes under the mask suddenly beca imnsely bloodshot and red streams of blood flowed down his pale as a ghost cheeks, hidden away from others to see.
Blood vessels erupted in his widened eyes under the terrifying black mask and pulsing, wriggling veins exploded underneath the skin of his face, head and neck.
They pulsed and wriggled like living, writhing worms underneath his skin, the uncomforting shade of pitch black, and his fingers were rapidly twitching as if he was suffering from convulsion as his sword trembled in his unsteady grasp.
Victor was getting corrupted — the corruption rapidly eating faster at his soul, mind and existence now that there was a lag in his defences!
[I...Imm..ersion... Is...]
"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
A sudden hoarse cry sohow managed to snap Victor back to his senses imdiately, and he drew a suffocatingly sharp gasp under his mask as his body jerked. Due to his unfathomable countenance while wearing the mask and since he was currently partially wrapped in unnatural shadows summoned by Hamlet, the sudden jolt in his body and shock in his shoulders couldn't be seen by anyone else outside.
•[IMRSION HAS BEEN STRONGLY ACTIVATED!]
Victor felt as if his lungs were suddenly on fire as he forcefully drew a gasp that deep out of nowhere. At the sa ti it felt like there were inflated worms borrowing through his brain and gnawing at his cells before exploding, causing severe pangs of indescribable pain to shoot through his head and eyes.
His eyes turned a whole new shade of red, and his expression a completely new level paler — almost bordering on transparent.
Before he could even remotely recover from the assault of the flaw and backlash of letting his mind falter, he first of all quickly recalled the owner of the voice that brought him back to his surroundings and looked forward, leaving him only to shudder greatly at the sight that t him.
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