Shadow Slave: Eternal Dawn

Nico rolled to the side as a blood-red arrow shattered the ground behind him, then dashed directly for the towering hunter. He activated his Dormant Ability and infused both his body and his morning star with one root each.

'All I have to do is keep it busy until the others finish the Demon.'

He gritted his teeth and barely dodged another earth-shattering shot, the head of the projectile slicing a shallow gash in his thigh.

'They'll kill it soon...'

Furious red flames flickered within the ancient hunter's eyes as it watched the pathetic creature before him close the distance. With a swift, decisive motion, it tossed its bow aside and brandished a spear crafted from flint, its tip needle sharp and soaked in dried blood. Decayed muscles drew taught under its pruned skin, and the Devil lunged forward without warning.

Nico pivoted backwards.

Now, it seemed, the fight was going to close quarters.

"Great," he mumbled.

At least because it had discarded the bow, he had no reason to keep pressing forward and distract it.

'Well, it's not like I can run either.'

With a smooth arc, Nico swung his morning star upwards, and though the primeval Devil's movements were hardly visible — no more than a black blur — the spear was deflected off course, skimming past his head and scattering his hair in a gust of wind.

His bones groaned from the pressure.

When the two blades collided, a deafening whine was released from one of the metal bands on his wrists, screaming into the ears of both beings and twisting their thoughts into knots.

Red sparks licked at the hunter's sockets as it stared at the tiny human with an expression that seemed almost surprised. That hardly gave it pause, though. The creature shifted its footing and swept its spear sideways, intending to behead Nico with the rebound assault. 

Nico recovered just as quick, the horn blocking any discomfort from the [Song of Steel], and sent a pulse of essence to his strained muscles. He ducked under the blow and dashed forward, dragging his dagger across the Devil's exposed thigh. However, much to his dismay, the blade merely bounced off, scraping the tough, gnarled skin of the hunter without leaving any visible mark.

Another unnatural scream echoed across the open square.

'Is this thing made of tree bark or something?' he remarked, rolling to the side to avoid the beast's backhand.

Gripping the handle of his morning star tighter, Nico grumbled:

"I'll have to crack you open."

The Devil lurched forward without any hesitation, fury burning — quite literally — in its empty eyes. An onslaught of attacks descended down on Nico, and he was forced to do nothing but deflect and dodge, each blow so harrowing that if he even entertained the idea of meeting them head on, he would find himself skewered or shattered in an instant.

Fighting with ruthless brutality, the profane being embodied what it meant to be a hunter. Its style was nothing but slaughter. Every strike was poised to kill or dismember. It was pragmatic combat at its finest — twisted into something perverted by the malevolent nature all Nightmare Creatures shared in equal measure.

Nico, on the other hand, fought with an almost desperate precision. His movements were clear and methodical. His every move was precise, divided perfectly into strikes, counters, and parries that never failed when he executed them. No emotion betrayed the strain of combat on his statuesque face, while an ethereal, azure light swirled within his eyes like two boundless rivers.

The horrible enchantment of his charm continued to demand slaughter.

Saturating his muscles, Nico swung the head of his mace sideways and began to dodge.

As the Devil brought its spear down in a wide arc, its momentum shifted by the head of his enemy's morning star at the last second, it let out a loud bellow and tried to bash the enemy with the pommel, only for him to have already dashed backwards.

Nico breathed — heavy, labored.

'I can only evade for so much longer. This thing is unstoppable.'

He was trapped in an endless cycle with the hunter, just fast enough to predict and evade its murderous swings, but not without parrying an occasional hit. His dagger, however, couldn't withstand the power that such a blow would entail, and his morning star would never be fast enough to land an attack before it regained its balance if he used it to block.

Releasing a pained groan as another shockwave of force was distributed through his arm, torso, and down through his feet into the ground, rattling his bones, he feverishly attempted to concoct some sort of plan.

But nothing came to mind.

He had no other weapons of a high enough class that could take the blow. The [Song of Steel] was completely out of its league. After all, he had been purging Monsters and Beasts almost exclusively with the Hunters. Who knew he'd end up tussling with a Devil — a monster with four abyssal Soul Cores and its own insane form of intelligence?

Grimacing, he strained to make out the blurry figure, clad in rotten furs and worn leather, spear cleaving through the air like a falling guillotine. He responded with equal ferocity. His silver figure weaved through the attacks; an elusive knight unable to be pinned down.

Yet, he was faltering.

He had thought that it would only be a matter of time before the Devil was slain. Perhaps it would be, but that relied on the fact he could live long enough for the Hunters to aide him, and he had both grossly overestimated himself and underestimated the Awakened Demon they were fighting.

Cracks had appeared on the head of his mace, and his essence was leaking from the puncture wound on his side. His face was slick with sweat, and bone-deep exhaustion was seeping into his body with each passing second. A broken cry escaped his lips as the blood spear scrapped his shoulder and cleaved through his armor — a suit granted to him by another Awakened Demon — effortlessly.

Only a few minutes had passed.

But then, a spark ignited in his mind.

He tightened his grip on his mace and dismissed the [Wilted Dagger]. With a thought, he dismissed and resummoned the [Hollowed Horn] instead.

A half-dozen strikes fired before the scattered sparks formed into the Memory. Due to dismissing the Memory, the hunter's mental assault finally gained ground, but was quickly snuffed again after he blew back into the horn.

Throughout the fight, Nico had been trying to charge the enchantment within the [Mourning Star] and build up its explosion. He hoped to be able to release some of the pent-up energy on the Devil's spear, blasting it away and leaving him an opening. Only, the idea was short-lived. The released fire wouldn't be nearly as strong, since he hadn't built it for several days, and it would have thrown him back in equal measure, merely staggering the Devil and himself before resetting the situation without any advantage on either side.

Now, however, he had a new plan for those flames.

'Take the bait...'

The hunter sundered another chunk of flesh. This time, it hit the same area as the arrow wound that had landed earlier and sank half an inch into Nico's side. Watching as a violent shudder spread through his body from the impact, the Devil pulled its weapon back and performed a straight thrust, aiming directly for the chest.

The finishing move.

Unable to dodge, and his weapon misplaced, it would be a sure hit.

However, a strange black horn met the unstoppable thrust instead, mysteriously appearing in the human's free hand and somehow managing to withstand the blow long enough to divert the spear into his pauldron instead.

The horn shattered a split second later, and the spear drove into the metal band on his wrist before sliding away.

The Spell whispered into his ear:

[Your Memory has been destroyed.]

Then, there was the groaning shear of metal, the low whir of an incessant whisper, and a flash of brilliant light as Nico saturated his blood with a significant amount of essence, whipping the ignited morning star straight upwards — toward the lower abdomen of the hunter, where one of its Soul Cores rested.

A terrible scream split the air when the blow sank in.

Blackened skin softened under the white flames like melted butter, and the mace struck with all the force of a siege ram. Flesh turned to pulp. Black blood hissed and boiled. Then, he hit the rotted, vile mass, and a net of jagged cracks snaked across the sphere. Shards splintered off the whole, and one large fracture severed it.

The Devil dropped its spear.

Flames exploded outwards in a wave.

Before any sort of joy could creep up through Nico's fatigued mind, a heavy hand slammed into his side, throwing him backwards like a broken doll.

He skipped across the stones. Warped metal bit into his skin before he collided against a large mound with a crash.

Another screech drove into his ears like pounded nails.

Nico groaned and climbed to his feet, dismissing the plate armor of the [Silver Wraith] so that it didn't impede his movement. Using a broken slab as a support, he blinked through the fog and peered forward, searching for the Devil.

Well, the Demon, basically.

Tilted thirty degrees in his vision, writhing in pain as it clutched its burned, broken side, was the primeval hunter. The red flames in its eyes and on the skull that rested above it were blazing with seething hatred, and one had been almost entirely extinguished, nothing more than a wispy flicker of crimson light.

Its spear rested discarded on the ground.

Nico took a wary glance at the two hunting parties.

In the distance, about a couple hundred meters away, a battered, towering corpse lay splayed across the ground, covered in terrible cuts, burns, and arrows — alongside other, more unidentifiable injuries. The group was now frantically charging towards him.

'They did it,' he languidly thought, glancing back at the hunter. It seemed to finally have regained some sense of its surroundings. The malignant Nightmare Creature's gaze attacked Nico, and an urge to submit fell upon his shoulders. Only, it was much weaker now, the former Devil's ability slowly fading away.

He fought off the hex with strained thought.

The weight of the [Mourning Star] resettled in his hand as he summoned it back.

His eyes narrowed.

After all that trouble and all that pain, he really, really wanted a reward. It was an intense and short-lived feeling, but there was no shortage of rage emanating from the hunter, either.

'I'll kill you before Gemma arrives, I've decided. Maybe I'll get a neat Memory too.'

Taking one heavy step forward, Nico reoriented himself and used an enormous pulse of essence to strengthen his muscles.

Heavy soul damage riddled his body.

An endless stream of trickling blood — essence — flowed from his wounds.

He didn't care.

Meeting the kneeling abomination after a few seconds, he swung his mace with terrible precision. A curved knife shot out from its hand to meet him, but it was sluggish and imprecise. He pulled back his body at the very last second and switched angles, the heavy weapon shattering against the flexed knee of the hunter with a wet squelch and crunch.

Fetid blood sprayed.

Two strangled cries wailed.

Nico danced away from its retaliation.

With an eerie rhythm and grace, he beat down the hunter, shattering its soul with each strike as its movements slowed even further. The weakened hunter began to hunch.

Then, a bronze arrow flew and implanted itself into its thigh.

'No. Not yet.'

Determined to slay it before Gemma's party arrived, Nico used the temporary distraction on its mind to close in, suffusing his body with all the essence he could muster from his two sapped cores. A low hum preceded his strike, and a crushing upwards swing crumpled the hunters jaw, travelling further and pulverizing its head, alongside the beast skull that rested above.

With a sudden, final twitch, the abomination's risen arm fell back down, and its torso swayed. It collapsed backwards like a toppled building.

Standing unsteadily above the desiccated corpse, watching the blood ooze and the sprayed fragments of bone and brain matter settle with a glassy sheen veiling his eyes, the Sleeper finally let all the pain overwhelm him, falling to knees with a gasp.

The Spell's lovely voice soothed him, proclaiming:

[You have slain an Awakened Devil, Barrow Wraith Shaman.]

He dismissed the [Song of Steel] and exhaled in relief when the incessant mind attack faded.

Yet, the Spell wasn't done speaking.

[You have received an...]

Straining himself, he tried to focus on the Spell's words, but to no avail.

The exhaustion rooted in him was too deep, and before he could come to his senses, sleep's icy grasp had stolen him away.