"There, It's done," Pyrrha whispered, mostly to herself. Her dark eyes watched in a crazed excitement, the corner of her lips tugged into a cruel smile, as she slowly tugged Soul Edge from its target. The large blade protruding from his chest was pulled out with a slick sound and power surged through Soul Edge as it welcomed the first of the man's soul, greedily eating it's fill. "Well, Patroklos," The Malfested woman said as she yanked her sword out of her brother, whose once pure white clothing began to turn a dark and rich crimson. The red plasma seeped into his jacket, tainting its color all the while he stumbled backwards, and away from the Omega as he gurgled on his own blood; faltering as he tried to speak while the dark liquid poured from his mouth and over his chin. "Did I do good this time?"
Patroklos fell to one knee while he looked at the lengthy and deadly gash that stretched from the sixth rib to his appendix. Gingerly, he placed a shaky hand to the wound and looked to his sister with terrified eyes. Her image became blurry as tears pricked at his blue eyes. She smiled scornfully at him, holding Soul Edge at her side, she looked down at it. "You won't leave me, right? You'll keep your word?" She spoke to it, running her delicate fingers over it's blood-ridden blade. The demonic eye looked to her and she sighed in happiness, grinning in glee. "Py-Pyrrha…" The dying hero croaked. The pain was unbearable and it continued to bleed as Patroklos stressed his muscles to speak and stretch a hand towards his only kin who had betrayed him so. He thought he could save her. He thought that they could go back home and save their land that Nightmare controlled. He was supposed to make everything right. Seeing Pyrrha like this made his heart ache. Wasn't she still there? Somewhere deep inside? No, she was long gone. It was Tira and Soul Edge's doing. It was their fault. If only Patroklos had gotten to his sister sooner, he could've stopped all this. He could've saved everyone. He wouldn't have to die and Pyrrha wouldn't be like this. A Malfested. A Demon. He couldn't kill her.
I have failed, he thought as blood spurted from his red lips.
He toppled over and hit the ground with a pained grunt, the gash left a burning feeling, the sensation licked at his insides and took over his nerves. Red pooled around his fallen form an it seemed to crawl away from him as small trails leaked into the cracks of the stone balcony.
Thunder cracked as the dark, purplish gaping hole in the sky turned with fervor and its surrounding clouds turned black and the rest of the sky began to taint into a dark red. War battled below and you could hear the cries of warriors. Pyrrha smiled in bliss and closed her eyes as she welcomed the noise of battle.
"Music to my ears," She hummed while limply holding the weapon in her hand. "And just hear those poor souls sing…"
She glanced down at the fallen hero, who struggled in vain to stay awake. The Malfested being began to laugh, her voice distorted. She didn't care for him. He left her all alone. But now, she didn't need to worry about that any more. Pyrrha had Soul Edge. He promised to stay with her if she supplied him souls. And supply him she would. Never again would she be deserted. She would do anything just to have someone at her side. So if it meant killing so many innocent lives, she would do it. Even if it meant she had to start with her own brother. Either way, she felt no remorse; she only needed the cursed blade to keep her company. She needed no one else. None could be trusted.
Quieting her fit of giggles, she walked to the fallen man's side and gave him a nudge with the tip of her boot. Patroklos panted and looked up at Pyrrha from the corner of his teary eye.
So broken, he was. So pathetic, he looked.
"P-Pyrrha….." he softly called in a whisper. He swallowed thickly, and watched as said woman's lips twitch into a pleasured smile, her eyes' half lidded.
And there, she watched the light disappear from Patroklos' sad eyes and his body relax and go still.
