Father Seymour raised his hand slowly and stopped the approaching wave of ice with a flick of his wrist. Behind it was an even stronger barrage of fire, and he stepped to the side gracefully, allowing the inferno to pass him by. Ducking under a following onslaught of devastating electricity, he stared coolly at the Siren, who was smirking under her azure hood as powerful spells erupted from the tip of Poseidon one after another, all aimed directly at the priest. Leaping effortlessly over a small chasm that attempted to open underneath his feet, he calculated in his head how much Mana the Siren had already spent trying to hit him. Coming up with a bigger number than he would’ve liked to see, he looked back towards his enemy and saw no signs of exhaustion. She had a lot more magical energy stored in her than he’d counted on when the fight started.
“You must’ve figured out by now that simply dodging won’t work; I won’t tire out so quickly!” Serenda shrieked triumphantly.
In response, Father Seymour snapped his fingers and a bolt of holy lightning barely missed her, slamming into the ground just inches away from her foot and scorching the grass. Snarling, she threw the head of Poseidon forward, a gargantuan black sphere erupting from the sapphire in the mouth and headed straight for the priest. Taking a step back, he uttered a quick prayer and threw his hands forward in a defensive stance. Serenda laughed as the sphere impacted, pushing him backwards and causing the heels of his shoes to tear up the ground he was standing on. Gritting his teeth, he pushed back with all the strength he could muster, his white hair billowing out behind his head almost like a short cape. With a final cry, he pushed forward, his glowing hands immersing themselves in the sphere.
A loud explosion shook the ground, and Serenda’s expression turned to shock. The black sphere had burst, showering the area with small particles of black energy that turned white as she watched. Father Seymour clenched his fists a few times as he approached her, already shaking off what had just transpired. Resuming his defensive stance, he smiled lightly as he looked at the Siren, apparently amused.
“Come on; show me what you can really do,” he urged.
“Cei Myrw!” the Siren screamed, stabbing the butt of her staff into the ground so hard that it stuck.
Father Seymour rolled his eyes and waited for the portal to the ice cap to appear, calling forth the ice dragon, but when nothing appeared in front of him, he grew nervous. Expecting an attack from behind, he whirled around, but saw nothing. Serenda cackled, though her laughs were covered up by a loud cracking noise. Turning to face her, he was suddenly grabbed by a powerful claw that exploded out of the ground. Immediately, smaller fissures began to open around the white-scaled arm, jets of cold air and snow shooting out of the cracked earth. Pushing up completely out of the ground, the ice dragon roared in his face, deafening him momentarily.
Looking below his feet, he saw that the Siren had opened the portal under the ground, allowing for the sneak attack. Cursing his carelessness, he squirmed in the great white claws, but couldn’t fight free. He knew he was still safe; the dragon wouldn’t freeze its own hand just to subdue him. It could, however, bite his head off, and as he didn’t quite feel like being devoured, he began to fight harder, even resorting to Divine Arts. Nothing seemed to have any effect, and the Siren laughed again.
“It’s not unholy, Seymour; your little fireballs won’t have any effect!” she cackled triumphantly.
“What is it with villains and triumphant monologues?” Father Seymour muttered as the dragon’s grip began to tighten.
A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he twisted his arms so that the palms were facing outwards, against the surface of the ice dragon’s claws. Focusing his energy, he began to build the strongest barriers he could, pushing them away from his body. The dragon snarled as it realized that it was beginning to lose its hold, but could do nothing as Father Seymour finally fell out from between the large claws. A wave of icy breath followed him to the ground, however, and he was forced to throw his barriers up above him to prevent the freezing fire from reaching him.
Pushing the shields upwards as soon as the stream was finished, he smirked as they hit the dragon in the jaw with the force of a strong punch, knocking it over backwards and back into the hole. Standing up and dusting the dirt off of his pants, he turned to the Siren, who was shouting a long string of curses at him, and waved, a cheeky grin lighting up his face. Snarling, she stabbed the butt of her staff into the ground and began to chant in a voice that caused the ground to shake. Dark clouds began to gather, and Father Seymour knew that he had to stop her quickly.
Cracking his knuckles, he started towards her, first at a brisk walk, then at a slow jog, and finally breaking into a full sprint, continuing to pick up speed until he seemed to be soaring over the ground towards her. When he was a few meters away, he launched himself forward with a powerful jump, his right hand drawn back for a powerful punch. As he threw the punch, there was a blinding flash from his clenched fist, followed by a deafening explosion as the blow connected. An enormous cloud of dust was thrown up by the impact, obscuring his sight for a few moments. Even with his amount of energy, he found himself completely drained after the powerful punch. The sound of clapping met his ears, and he rolled his eyes.
“That was amazing, Seymour! No doubt that was your fearsome ‘Godhand’ technique,” Serenda cackled from her position on the sidelines, safely out of the range of the explosion that his technique had created.
“I have to hand it to you; you’ve certainly done your homework,” Father Seymour called to her as he opened and closed his right fist, working the aching muscles.
“Well enough to know that you’re not right handed,” Serenda replied. “Why on earth would you hold back on someone like me? You heard me calling in the language of demons! Certainly that would merit killing me with your full power?”
“I have never used my left hand on anything other than a demon; as disgusting as you are, you’re a Siren, not a demon. I cannot justify the use of my full power against you,” Father Seymour answered wearily.
“Don’t you dare make this easy for me!” Serenda hissed as she hurled an even larger barrage of lightning at the priest.
Unknown to the Siren, he had been reciting an invocation prayer in his mind while they were talking, and he was gone in a flash, moving even faster than he had been before. Within that instant he was behind her, his fist flashing again as he struck at her with Godhand. Another explosion followed, and he had to wait for the smoke to clear again before he saw that he had missed her once more. She sighed and flicked her wrist in a bored manner, sending an unbelievably large wave of earth towards him, essentially assailing him with a small mountain. He barely had the time to throw up any barriers before he was completely buried.
Serenda walked over to where he had been, stomping the dirt down with her foot. After spitting on what she concluded was the priest’s grave, she turned to help Reaper with Vox, but was stopped as a hand exploded out of the ground and grabbed her ankle, eliciting a shriek. Bursting from underneath the earth, Father Seymour let go of her leg and jumped back a ways, brushing some of the dirt off of his clothes.
“I really hate being underground, you know that? Did you really have to hit me with that? It’ll take forever to get all the dirt out of my hair,” he complained as he cracked his neck.
“If it weren’t for the fact that your description fits and you used Godhand not once but twice, I would have a very hard time believing that you were the Father Seymour that I’ve spent the better part of my life hearing about,” Serenda remarked, tracing a sign in the air with one hand as she gripped her staff with the other.
“I can assure you that I’m the only Father Seymour for miles around,” the priest responded. “I have, however, mellowed out since my last major appearance on the battlefield.”
“We can’t have that,” Serenda said, feigning shock. “I’ve been so eager to fight the Left Hand of God that I won’t settle for anything less than the ruthless crusader I’ve heard about!”
“I hate to be a disappointment. However, I do believe you came here to fight, not to talk. If you’d rather have a conversation, can we at least sit down and have tea?” Father Seymour retorted, rolling his shoulders.
In response, Serenda began to chant in the same rumbling language she’d been using before. Before Father Seymour could move, however, something erupted from the ground and stopped him. It was a humanoid figure composed entirely of solid rock; a golem that Serenda had summoned with the symbol earlier, specifically called to prevent him from stopping whatever spell she was trying to cast now. Cracking his knuckles, he hurtled towards the creature and struck at it, though no flash or explosion accompanied his punch.
As could be expected, all he managed to gain was a bruise, though there was a small crack where he’d hit the golem. Leaping back as the deceptively fast monster tried to catch him with a stony right hook, he tried to leap over it, aiming for Serenda, whose chanting had become quicker, the ground shaking harder and the dark clouds overhead beginning to swirl around a single focal point, directly above the spell-casting Siren. Once more the golem blocked him, launching itself into the air and hitting him back towards the ground with both fists.
“Great,” he groaned as he picked himself off of the ground, “I got out of bed this morning to be turned into a human volleyball.”
Any further thoughts were caught off as the golem rushed him, stomping down on his chest. A quick roll saved his life, though he was struck in the head by a small rock that had been thrown up by the impact. Kicking out at the golem’s legs, he groaned when his attack had little effect. The golem lashed out at him with its foot, another blow he barely managed to dodge as he searched for a possible weak point. Given the worrying strength of the tremors in the ground and the speed at which the clouds above were moving, he didn’t have long to stop whatever spell she was trying to cast.
Taking a few steps back and blocking the golem out with a few of his stronger barriers, he clasped his hands together and began to pray, the invocation prayer of the technique he was using not only longer than most, but also more difficult than any other Divine Art invocation that he knew. He’d only used the technique once before, and it had frightened him because it was so erratic. Were the other Highest Priests not present, the lives of his comrades would’ve been in danger. He knew Vox could take care of himself, and despite his attitude would make sure that the others were safe as well, so there was no better time to use this particular Divine Art.
“
O hated peoples and despised nations,
Fear the judgment that is to be cast down upon
Your unrighteous heads.
You shall be given unto the darkest places
For the transgressions of your souls
That you relish.
None shall stand before the wrath
That shall be meted out upon you;
Death shall reign.”
Power began to course through his body, and he could feel a familiar warmth spreading from the very tips of his fingers straight to his core. Though it started out comfortable at first, it began to burn him from the inside out, and he felt as if his insides had been set on fire. Gritting his teeth, he continued on with the invocation while the golem pounded on the barriers with everything it had, chips of rock flying off of its fists in the process.
“
Cry out to the Lord in your anguish
And He may yet save your souls
From the deepest pit.
Stay quiet and you risk certain death;
Cry out curses upon His name and you will perish
For all time.
His desire is that you should live
But you throw His love in his face
And long to die.
You who are wicked are reduced to dust,
For from dust you were created
In the beginning.
Pray for mercy, and you may receive it;
Ask for forgiveness and you shall be forgiven
For all your sins.
Hate not those who pass judgment upon you,
For they themselves have been judged
For your salvation.”
As the invocation was closer to a psalm than to an actual prayer, there was no need to end it with ‘amen.’ The moment he finished the last line, a blinding light emanated from him, wiping out the barriers and destroying the golem when it fell forward. When the light retreated back to his body, he was levitating slightly, suspended a foot off of the ground and surrounded by a blazing white aura that threatened to blind anyone who stared too long. Letting his hands drop to his sides, he opened his eyes to reveal that they were burning with white fire, the tongues extending into the air above his head.
Serenda’s chanting had become deafening in volume, and though the ground had stopped shaking, the clouds above were circling around furiously, threatening to form a cyclone and lift her into the sky. Without warning, Father Seymour was suddenly hurtling towards her, the white fire trailing from his eyes as he moved. Mere seconds before he reached her, she shouted the final word and threw her hands out to the side, letting go of her staff entirely and letting it simply float in front of her.
A wave of unholy energy erupted from her, throwing Father Seymour back despite his cloak of divine power. Sickly blue light hurtled down from the sky, forming a column around her before it split off, inscribing lines on the ground. She began to cackle as clawed hands began to burst out of the ground following the lines, tinged blue and reeking of death and rotting flesh. Father Seymour dodged back as more and more of the clawed hands of varying shapes and sizes tried to tear him apart. When he was safely out of range, he observed as the creatures pulled themselves fully out of the ground.
For the most part, they looked identical. They were all top-heavy, with extremely broad shoulders extending into powerful arms. Their heads were merged directly to their bodies, as they had no necks, and a series of fins extended from the back of their heads, between their shoulder blades. Though the number of eyes and their size varied, they all had row upon row of sharp teeth, and their powerful legs ended in three talon-like claws. Every one of them glared at Seymour with their beady red eyes, and their claws flexed in anticipation.
“I take it you’ve seen a water demon before?” Serenda asked him from the other side of her army. “I think you’ll find they stand up to your Divine Arts well enough to be a nuisance, and in their numbers, you’ll have quite a difficult time with them.”
A small group of them charged at the priest, and he was only too eager to meet them head on. The Divine Art he was using, Divine Aura, amplified his strength and stamina to the very limit, but also increased his desire to purge anything with unholy energy to the extent that it clouded his judgment and all but destroyed his reason. Anything that got in his way, be it a boulder or a comrade, was treated the same; an obstacle to be destroyed for the greater good; a necessary sacrifice.
As they met in the middle, the holy energy surrounding the priest lashed out at them, and he followed up the strike with a powerful punch on the nearest water demon. His fist connected with the creature’s lower jaw, slamming its mouth shut and shattering most of its teeth. Though the beast staggered backwards, it roared and slashed at his face with its claws. Father Seymour danced out of the way and followed by hurling a portion of the Divine Aura at the demon. Pushing one of the smaller demons in the way, the now toothless demon pressed forwards, blocking the Divine Aura with the smaller demon. As soon as it was close enough, it ran Father Seymour through and hurled him towards the larger horde.
Completely ignoring the gaping wound in his stomach, Father Seymour spun in the air, recovering nicely given the damage he’d taken, and shoved a large portion of the Divine Aura at the demons below him. They scattered under the onslaught, giving him a safe place to land. Once he had touched down, however, they surrounded him, gnashing their teeth and swiping their claws through the air in anticipation. Father Seymour spun to look at each one, daring any of them to charge forward.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t a clichéd movie fight scene where only one of the enemy horde charges the opponent while the others simply circle around looking menacing, and all of the demons rushed in at once. Father Seymour fell to one knee on the ground as he pushed back with all of his might, the Divine Aura blazing hard against the demons that were slashing at every inch of his body. There were too many, however, and the beasts in the back kept pushing forward until Father Seymour had no room to move. He closed his eyes and resigned himself to his fate, despite the fury of the Divine Aura around him; he knew he was going to die.
Something incredibly cold suddenly washed over him, and he realized that the demons weren’t pushing anymore. A hand grabbed him by the shoulder, and before he knew what was happening he’d been pulled out of the horde and thrown roughly to the ground. Sitting up and looking frantically around, he saw a girl dressed in a red dress glaring at him as if she wanted to kill him. He looked around her and saw that a good portion of the demons had been frozen solid, completely unable to move, and those that hadn’t had scattered once more. Serenda was howling in anger and throwing fire at the ice encasing her soldiers, but they remained frozen.
To his astonishment, the woman was scolding him. “That was rather reckless of you! I have half a mind to freeze you right there, but I can’t finish them all off along with the Siren off myself.”
“Er…thank you?” he managed to stammer.
Her stern glare subsided. “There, that’s better. Now come on; we’ve got some demons to get rid of.”
Striding forward confidently, she raised her hand and shouted something that Father Seymour couldn’t quite hear. Instantly, a current of air rushed towards the demons, and any that were trapped by it were instantly frozen solid, the ice growing on them like an icy, macabre plant. Father Seymour smirked and cracked his knuckles before hurtling forward, shattering the ice and the demons frozen within with a solid punch. Serenda shrieked in anger and urged the remaining demons forward, chasing them with lightning towards the priest and the Aloja. Penelope merely sighed and cast another freezing spell, though Father Seymour noticed that this one was slightly weaker than the last, covering only a third of the remnants of the horde in ice.
“Tiring out so soon?” he asked her as he crushed a demon’s skull under his heel after knocking it to the ground with a strong punch.
“Just conserving my energy for the ‘main boss’,” she replied, though she did sound a little winded.
Father Seymour’s response was interrupted as a bolt of lightning streaked through the space between them, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end and making the Aloja dive to the side. Getting back to her feet, she glared at Serenda. The Siren merely laughed and hurled another bolt of lightning at her, and Father Seymour barely had time to tackle her out of the way. Rising to his feet quickly, the priest hurled a ball of holy fire back at her, though it was dispersed before it could make contact.
“You take care of the demons,” Penelope said, pushing herself to her feet and starting towards Serenda. “I’ll deal with the Siren.”
The priest nodded and turned his attention to the demons that were no coming out of their hiding places around the surrounding area. Thankfully, though they were fighting in the middle of town, there was no one around, something he decided he’d have to look into later. As the demons peeked out from behind trash cans and corners, they realized that Penelope, the only person that had been doing any damage to them whatsoever, was now heading towards their summoner. As demons, they couldn’t care less what happened to her, now that they were out in the world, but they did see that the priest was still waiting for them to attack. Given the fact that they’d come close to killing him once already, they were more than ready to meet him in battle.
Now that there were less of them, Father Seymour was certain that he could take them all on, but he wanted to be safe nonetheless. Reciting a quick invocation as they rushed towards him, he snorted contemptuously when he realized that he wouldn’t be able to finish before they were upon him. Halting the prayer, he threw up a series of strong barriers, hoping they’d be enough. Not waiting for the first of the demons to hit the barrier, he continued the invocation, his Divine Aura turning red and slowly fading as he spoke.
Much to his chagrin, the demons slammed into the barrier and kept coming, shattering each shield with only a few strong blows. He was too far into the prayer now; he couldn’t stop, or he’d lose his energy without gaining any of the effects of the Divine Art he was trying to invoke. Cursing lightly under his breath, he started to move, stepping backwards slowly as he concentrated on the invocation. When he was sure he could focus while on the move, he began to sprint backwards, barely managing to evade a demon’s claws. Keeping one eye open, he ducked and sidestepped, all while calling out the prayer at the top of his lungs.
Until his back hit a solid wall. Casting a startled glance behind him, he saw only the grey wall of one of the businesses in Lamedia. As his heart sank in horror, he realized that he could feel his energy draining away; he had to continue with the invocation or risk losing what remained of his energy. Scrambling frantically with the words as the demons closed in, he finally remembered where he was just as the first set of claws pierced his stomach. Despite the pain he kept speaking, clenching his fists hard enough that his nails bit into his palms. Another set of claws ran through his shoulders, nearly stopping him again. Just as a final set of claws hurtled towards his head, he shouted “Amen!”
In that instant the Divine Aura roared back to life around him, still as red as blood. Expanding far beyond what it had been before, it enveloped the demons in its holy light. They shrieked and tried to run, but they were all trapped in place; the light wouldn’t let them leave. All of the claws slid limply out of the priest’s body as his energy flooded out of him, destroying the unholy creatures in moments. The light continued to expand even as he slid down the wall, coming to rest on the ground. When it finally stopped, none of the demons were left.
“If Vox declares this a pointless death, I’ll come back and kill him myself,” Father Seymour muttered as he closed his eyes.
Just out of the reach of the red light of Father Seymour’s last Divine Art, Penelope stood facing the Siren. Neither of them had made any moves so far, as they knew that fighting magic-to-magic at their level could destroy the entire town if one misstep was made. Opposing spells had to be countered, but couldn’t be countered with too much force or the imbalance could be used against them. Indiscriminately throwing about high-level spells was a surefire way to get everyone killed, including themselves. Serenda made the first move, pulling her hood down.
“I can tell you can only manage a freezing spell properly, so how about this? We fight ice-to-ice, and the winner, obviously, is frozen alive. We’re both entities of water, so that will almost certainly be deadly,” she suggested.
“I take you up on your offer. Now get ready!” Penelope answered after a while.
They stood quiet and still for a moment, sizing each other up, before Penelope suddenly threw her hand forward, shouting in the same language she’d used before. Serenda countered, aiming Poseidon’s head straight at the Aloja. The ice spells collided in the middle, forming a large sphere of ice that grew more and more by the second, even as the ground beneath it became coated with a thick layer of permafrost. As each spell caster poured more and more power into their spells, the sphere moved towards one, and then towards the other, constantly going back and forth until it was finally stopped directly in the middle.
Penelope was focusing hard on her spell, though she only used one hand to hold off the Siren. Serenda was gripping Poseidon with only her right hand as well; they were both equal in the power of their spells, despite how many years Serenda had been studying every different aspect of magic. Grinning, she called out to the Aloja.
“You’re not bad; I haven’t had a match like this in ages. Unfortunately, you’re not good enough!” she cried as she wrapped her other hand around Poseidon.
A burst of power slammed into the side of the ice sphere and it shot towards Penelope like an oversized white cannonball. Gritting her teeth, Penelope pushed with everything she had, but it wouldn’t slow down. Finally, she gripped her outstretch palm with her other hand and threw everything she had into the spell she was casting. A loud crack echoed through the streets as the new burst of energy rammed the ice sphere back at the Siren.
Stunned, Serenda could only watch as the sphere rushed towards her and quickly enveloped her, freezing her to the spot. The sphere then condensed until it was no longer a sphere, but a tight-fitting coat of ice. She was no more than an ice sculpture on the sidewalk of a once-busy street.
Penelope ran a hand through her hair and breathed a deep sigh of relief. After that brief battle, she was exhausted. Collapsing to a sitting position, she decided that she’d rest, but only for a little while; the others that she could see fighting might need her help. Before she knew what was happening, she’d fallen asleep, still sitting in the middle of the street.
