???:"RAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!"
Those terrible screams were not familiar to Rall. Such a sonorous and vile sound was something that was foreign as it came.
Yet he knew what it was, that terrible, enraged and maddened voice was from none other than his father.
The Mark's toll had consumed him completely. But instead of a brain dead state Sevile has seemingly gone mad instead.
*Clang* *RUMBLE*
*Crack*
*BANG*
These sounds of battle has out-sounded the pouring rain. Making his ears deaf with it's medley of tunes.
Rall had never heard his father sound like that. That voice filled with madness made him wonder if father had already lost his mind, replaced by a mindless beast. And he assumed it to be not too far off from the truth. But hoped otherwise.
Gulping, he took that step and turn he had been demurring to take around the corner.
—His vision caught that sight of two petals;Bleeding a red trail as it fell to the almost vapourless floor. Their eyes squirming faintly before those slitted pupils dilated to fill the entire iris and thereafter the sclera.
Rall:"...Huh."
Sevile:"—AAH!"
With a blade that was visible as it can be, a sheen of Smoke still obscuring his form, Sevile had cut down two petals of the Haemanthia.
That floor of vapour Rall had been terrfied of before...the same vapoury water that seemed lethal despite being harmless.
—was now replaced by a bed of Red jades, myraid sizes, they were easy to make name of.
They were clotted blood. Pristine they were, still beautiful despite how Rall always saw blood as. Although Rall was a healer. He indeed dislike blood. It's sheening of his clothes was a clockwork event that made him see it as disgusting.
Yet those jades were indeed quite beautiful.
Ah...but there was something else Rall was taken back about.
Rall:"No...your not. Dad—What the fu*k are you doing?."
That sheen of Smoke...Sevile had no Mark or way to form such a smoke screen around himself. And the hissing sound pervading his ears made it obvious that the smoke was actually thick steam made of water vapour.
There was no other way to go about it...Sevile was using that forbidden technique. The skill with the coined name— The Enervation Veil. Or the life drain veil.
Damn it—!
He had no time to think, he had no clue how long Sevile had been using the Enervation Veil. Though humans had a long life span that was close to 600 years on average the life draining was very potent. Anyone untrained could sap up the entirety of Thousand years in a mere minute.
*Shing*
He drew his sword out of the Holster with an Arc. The rain upon the blade splashed out. The blade humming from each drop that fell.
And with a wind up—he threw it directly at the body the Haemanthia took—Nay, it's roots.
*Shwish*
Like a launched missile, the swung sword sounded whilst cutting air.
It spun.
*Siwish*
And it spun. Moving through the rain's beratement.
*Swish*
Crying out in pain, the Haemanthia wobbled haphazardly, it's eyes writhing and and twitching in every direction.
*twitch* *twitch* *twitch* *twitch* *twitch* *twitch* *twitch* *twitch* *twitch* *twitch* *twitch* *twitch* *twitch* *twitch* *twitch* *twitch* *twitch* *twitch* *twitch* *twitch*
*Twitch*
With all it's twitching coalesced within a single moment, it reached the meagre shining of a blade cutting through the doun pour.
*Swis—*Ting!*
Assuradly, with a resounding din that sword which was thrown was intercepted by a rather thin pike of blood.
Rall saw that image through the gaze hazing rain. The rain still a constant song akin to a loud opera in his ears.
Sh*t
Perhaps, if the rain had been dimmer, thinner and weaker. His blade could have pierced that mournful flesh acting as roots for the red Flower.
Yet the pouring rain laved away, washed that possibility to the ground much like the red jades.
Despite so—
Sevile:"—AAAHH!"
A steam burst forth with wild hissing.
Rall:"Wa—Dad!?"
That same moment, Rall spotted another blade shining within the air. Flying far faster then his own.
Sevile had thrown his own blade at the flower head of the Haemanthia, but then...
*Thud*
*Shing*
A ground trembling thud which blew up all the red jades—was followed by sharp metal being holdened and swung.
Followed after was the red pike being crumbled and seated along side the crimsonized red floor. Splashing about some vapoury water.
Sevile:"—WHO THE FU*K ARE YOU STOP MY SON!?"
That voice, still tinted darkly with a shade of madness echoed beyond the veil of steam. Showing a deep love for what it sought to protect.
He was a father first, there after a husband, following it after he was a son to his long gone parents. Only after that was he himself.
It was put neatly without any confusion on who he put first. And as a father who care of himself most as a father. Sevile will not let an impediment be born infront of his son's advances. Broken minds be damned.
He. Will. Cut. It. DOWN.
That Geyser of steam rocketed once more, blade of his son cutting madly at all that stood in his way.
—that sword of his own which narrowed towards the flower head didn't impede in it's airborne March either. Every time an obstacle came the blade vanished.
After all, the sword and his mind and mark were attached. No no need for physical contact.
*RUBBLE*
He moved through the bed of Red jades, weaving through each blood pike that rose, each pillar that fell, each drilling spear tried to drive into his chest, each rain of bloody bullets.
Shedding blood as he moved—Sevile reached the target.
Haemanthia:"—grrgeg!?"
Grotesque as it sounded, the Haemanthia's all remaining eyes flashed downwards.
Rall:" Come on old man!"
The blade drew an Arc beautifully, cutting each drop of rain and blood seperate like a defining line.
Sevile felt his son's sword in his grasp as the vibration of cutting liquid blood that which turned solid clots coursed through his languid flesh and bones.
It cut and it cut—
—The sword heading onwards the flower head cut and cut, it's blade vanishing and appearing. The hilt gone. Turned to smitherenes.
—Until Sevile felt thick flesh and skin be severed. The fetterment of bone—
—Unbound by none else like the hilt and handle alike the sharp metal sliced through as though it was null and void within the world—
—followed by the obtuse walling of hard oak roots that which were cut relentlessly—
—The sole metal reached the petalled flower head, readyily in wait for spreading about another rain of fresh blood—
—until it—
—until finally it—
—*SQUELCH*—
—*SQUELSH*—
—Until it cut, completely severed the—Root—Head.
A retired solidified soldier with the late help of a solidified mediocre Healer had killed a [Fatal Hunter].
Truly, there existed a quote made by a powerful philosopher.
"Caged and confined are those who yearn most for the outside. Fear those who have none-else but that yearning."
That quote entails one thing: a thinker that is confined to conditions often is more creative than those who live free. Thus the next quote.
"The most dangerous are not the ones who are fed. Nor the simply hungry. But the ones who are Starved by fate. They shall eat fate's own entrails themselves as a vengful nourishment."
This such occasion. Just proves it further.