He stood there, reflexively guarding the girl from whatever the malignant aura belonged to, holding his sword tightly between his fingertips that trembled and exuded sweat already.
Then, he finally saw ‘it’–the source of the aura of such boundless darkness.
Most surprising of all, it was a man; standing there in the hall with his hands slid into the pockets of his exuberant, all-black pants. He was lanky; noticeably tall with flowing, gray hair but a patchwork face as if he was held together by stitches.
There was nothing normal about his appearance, though he was definitely human in shape, the malicious aura he possessed and oddities were sothing strange. He possessed one azure eye and one gold, holding a carefree smile as he noticed the two at last.
“Oh? I didn’t expect to bump into anybody else during my assessnt of Ktholl’drulbh,” the man spoke with a smile.
Hearing that gargled na spoken imdiately made things go from bad to worse for Emilio as his eyes widened and his heartbeat increased.
‘Ktholl’drulbh’? How does he know that na?…’Assess’? What does he an? It couldn’t be…He questioned.
“Who the hell are you?! What do you have to do with all of this?!” Emilio forced himself to ask, yelling from the anxiety skyrocketing in his body.
The stitch-faced man seed slightly amused by his question, but obliged as he removed the cigarette from his mouth, exhaling smoke that blended in with the darkness around him.
“It’s common courtesy to give one’s na and title when asked, right?…I guess humans are like that, after all,” the man said with a smile before placing his hand on his chest, “I am the Viscount of Farmaya, Shammoth–at your service.”
Viscount of Farmaya? Shammoth?…What does that an? He imdiately questioned.
He kept his guard raised, “…Tell this: what do you have to do with the Unending Nightmare? You used its true na, didn’t you? Then you must know how dangerous it is!…How many people it’s already killed?!”
Emilio’s words reached the girl behind him, who grew teary-eyed at the thought of those who passed, rembering the losses she had incurred.
Though the repugnant answer that spewed from the lips of the well-dressed, patchwork-faced man was anything but pleasing:
“I led it to Larundog, yes. What of it? Slaughter was the goal. So many maggots crawling around; what does it matter if I squash so?” Shammoth smiled, puffing out a breath of smoke as he moved the cigarette from his lips, letting it turn to ash, “…Humans are so hypocritical. You don’t pay any mind to the ants you step on or the cattle you slay, do you? So don’t look at with those eyes, child.”
Emilio squeezed the handle of his sword, whispering to the girl behind him, “…Get back.”
“Huh?…What’re you going to do? Emilio?” lisande asked.
“Just get back!” He yelled.
Displaying conviction in his words, it was enough to convince the silver-haired girl to nod and back away, giving him space just as the malevolent aura around the mysterious culprit intensified.
Viscount of Farmaya…He’s affiliated with so sort of group or organization. I don’t know what it is yet, but right now…I have to take him down, he thought, if he brought the Unending Nightmare to this city, he might be able to take it away–I’ll stop just shy of killing him so he can do just that.
It seed his intentions were painted clear as day on his face as Shammoth smiled, casually sliding his hands out of his pockets as he looked at the boy with his mix-colored eyes.
“If you’re thinking you can stop the Unending Nightmare by using , you’re completely off your mark there,” Shammoth dissuaded the notion, “–It’s grown to this extent. Besides, I don’t like brats, so I’ll be killing you, anyway.”
There was sothing inhuman in the way the Viscount of Farmaya spoke, possessing such little regard for human life that surpassed just apathy. More mysterious was the sigil engraved on his forehead that was only revealed slightly when his gray bangs parted; it resembled a blooming flower, etched onto his patchwork skin.
Just as the intent to kill was felt from Shammoth, who began to raise his hand with darkness gathering at his fingertips–Emilio was the first one to move.
Utter contempt flowing through his veins in that mont; before, the Unending Nightmare was more akin to a natural disaster than a person to bla for the travesties that occurred. It would be as effective as taking one’s rage out on the knife that a killer used.
However, he had found an outlet for his anger; the smiling, irredeemable stranger who held the bla for the death of his friend and the suffering of those within the city.
I’ll kill him, he swore.
Honing those emotions, his mind flowed in a concise state, coalescing to one option that allowed him to invoke grand magecraft without the necessity of words.
That spell was–
“Dragon Hurricane.”
Manifesting from nothing more than a scream he unleashed, commanding the moisture in the air around him to spiral into multiple vortexes and spin into the shape of dragon heads, the spell was born, imdiately sending the group of draconic heads through the corridor.
,c-o-m “Ah, you used this spell knowing that it’d leave no choice but to et it head-on, didn’t you?” Shammoth smiled, preparing himself.
The truth was, that much thought didn’t go into it; Emilio simply spawned the first spell that ca to mind with the goal of ‘annihilating his enemy.’
Carving through the wallpaper and tearing through the carpet, the roaring beasts forged of water neared Shammoth, who maintained his icy-cool composure with a smile, waiting until the last mont to finally raise a single arm.
Without explanation, the enigmatic man’s left arm swelled, multiplying in size from three tis as large to six tis, bulging with unnatural muscularity as his own skin seed to struggle to contain the shift in mass.
What kind of magic is that…? Emilio questioned.
Shammoth smiled as he used his gigantified arm, encasing his knuckles in what seed to be reinforced bone before thrusting his weaponized fist forward, directly clashing against the Dragon Hurricane.
There was no logic to it, yet it was the reality before his eyes; with brute force spawned of inexplicable ability, the stranger overpowered the draconic aqua, causing a splash of water to spray through the corridor.
He beat it…? With a punch? Emilio thought.
“They always assu I’m so sneaky, ‘con-artist’ type fighter because of my appearance,” Shammoth said with a smile as his straight, gray hair flowed behind his back, “…Their reaction is always priceless; you’ll be dead before you know it if you try and apply logic to . I’ve always believed the best way to win a fight is by utterly crushing your opponent’s spirit. Perhaps it’d be more efficient to end the fight in one blow, but it’s undeniably a joy to witness,” Shammoth said with a wicked smile.
“Has anybody ever told you that you talk too much?!” Emilio said, quickly grabbing his staff from his back and pointing it forward.
“Over and over again,” Shammoth said with a laughing smile, shifting his arm back to its normal state.
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