"Its more fun when you scream! So scream already!" cried the huge man. "Don't you know? I like pain," William retorted.
The dance continued for another minute, the large man becoming enraged as the smaller continued to dodge the sword. Luck ran out as William retreated backward and toppled over a pile of trash. Quickly the sword plunged its way into his right shoulder, pinning him to the ground. The swordsman loomed over his prey wriggling against his blade, grinning widely as he damned a portion of the soul within the daemonic metal. "And now I Draw the Breath!" howled the man as pain coursed anew within William. Blood poured freely from his wound as a cold shiver ran through him.
Gunfire erupted from down the alleyway, finding purchase in the sword-wielder's ribs. The man growled fiercely, as if not completely human. He turned and damned the entirety of the spirit left him, pulling the massive weapon out of William as he did. As he brandished the bloody blade his body transformed in a matter of seconds, doubling in size as muscles rippled with mass. His clothing was torn to shreds leaving only plates of metal stretched across his form. His face looked to be filled with terrible rage and pain as daemonic power filled his muscles and bones.
"I...what the..." blurted one of the two men that stood in the alley's mouth. He could speak nothing else, instead turning to flee in panic upon seeing the daemonic man's visage. "THERE'S NO ESCAPE!" cried the daemon-man as he sprinted down the alley, torn clothing trailing behind him. The remaining man had the fortitude to hold his ground, kneeling down as he opened fire with a large two-handed Ordnance. The bullets hailed through the air with trails of light, giving the man an advantage as he corrected his aim. With inhuman celerity, the swordsman darted side-to-side taking only little damage as he closed the distance. In a display of strength the man swatted the gun to the ground with a backhand, following up with a fluid sword thrust. The metal was buried to the hilt, allowing the hot blood to flow over the daemonic man's hand. The gunman looked down at the sword that had found purchase straight through his stomach, expiring only a moment later as his spirit entered the kult sword.
It was a matter of a mere minute for the daemon-man to hunt down the other man, torture him and consume his soul. For William, that was time enough to escape. It would use the rest of his trapped spirit but a strategic retreat was in order. Damning the soul from his ringblade, William passed through a black portal that grew from beneath him, transporting him safely to the floor of his hovel an instant later. The kultist breathed a sigh of relief and stared at the darkened ceiling.
"That was too close. I'd heard stories about the circle of Lost, but that was incredible. He transformed into...something. I'll have to research their powers more closely." William crawled across his uneven cement floor to a small box in a corner. Inside was a plethora of advanced medicines. Leaning against the wall he began to treat his injury. The final step was dousing the wound with alcohol, sending him into a state of unconscious shock. Dreams crept into the man's brain as he found respite.
Half a day passed as William recuperated, though his mind was plagued with nightmares and visions of daemonic torture. Awakening in a very groggy state, the kultist lit a syntharette and leaned against the wall sideways. A few minutes passed in silence as he finished off the cancer stick, stubbing it out on the broken cement. Touching his wound brought a racing pain that helped to clear some of the fog from his mind. Pulling out a flask from his coat, William drank the small amount of booze left in it before taking care of his bandages. The alcohol and pain managed to pull William's senses to the forefront, giving him clarity of mind.
Taking to the streets, William spent the next several hours tracking down gangers or bums or some scum no one would miss from Sub-Level 4. He would interrogate each one for details about the swordsman before taking their life for the spirit left behind. His ringblade nearly full, William decided to rest for a moment in a small alcove. His questioning had turned up nothing solid, bringing him frustration. Clenching his jaw, he let out a heavy sigh. Mindlessly his hands pulled out another syntharette and lit it, letting the nicotine calm him a bit. While contemplating his next move, there was a sudden clunk of metal to his left. Snapping his head to the left, William had played right into the trap. From behind him, mere inches away, came a deep voice.
"What's wrong? You seem nervous," taunted the swordsman. William's eyes went wide and he slowly turned his head until he could see a massive maw of grinning teeth. The man began to laugh, his hand swiftly gripping William's throat. He stood up, lifting the kultist into the air. While he was occupied choking his prey, the large man did not see the Ordnance slip out of the coat and press into his stomach. There was a moment where the two's eyes met in silence, realization setting in. Pulling the trigger, William blew a hole through the daemonic man, throwing him to the ground. Gasping for air he searched for the man, knowing it would take more than three bullets to put him down. His vision was blurry and the world threatened to become black.
"Fuck this shit. There's only one way to put him down," William said as he damned a portion of spirit in his ringblade. The lining of his coat became a daemonic portal, allowing the kultist to remove a small device from the safety of his home. The large man on the ground groaned, attempting to sit up. With vengeance burning in his eyes, William snatched up the sword and shoved it through the swordman's pelvis, pinning him to the ground. Howling in pain, the swordsman tried to reach for his prey with no success. William grinned wickedly at the man before pulling a pin out of the device and tossing it onto his lap.
"Give my regards to Hell," William said as he stepped away. A moment later the alleyway erupted in white hot light, instantly melting and vaporizing anything within a five foot radius. The kultist lit another syntharette as he made his way home to his dank hovel.
Fan-fiction for Obsidian: The Age of Judgement
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