Apostasian Revelations

Chapter Thirty Two

He swung his blade around with all his might, try as he might he couldn't block nor parry the piercing attack as it hit him right in the shoulder, straight to the bone.

Each and every strike gave a pervading sense of misery and doom as much as revolting as the abhorrent and noxious grin plastered on his adversary's face, every time he tried to strike his foe was just that bit more quicker.

His mouth quaked as spit flew out of it, blood would soon follow as he felt his limb limp down to the earth, feeling the marble texture that was now stained blood red.

The man infront of them handled a blade so short yet so deadly, it was a losing battle and he just couldn't beat him, at all.

His life held in the hands of the man infront of him, Miguel might aswell have perished, leaving the world shaking to it's core, The God of the world itself would die at the hands of a mortal; a mortal with a God slaying artifact.

He closed his eyes, waiting for the final strike to arrive, ending his misery.

Hours earlier, Miguel and Virgil had made a plan, the plan itself was simple but some clever reconnaissance would be needed, and so the rogue had already done it prior to the final act.

They moved as one into the town, it was the closest one to Pari, and Gaylé aswell, though it seemed deserted and dead quiet it was most likely due to the timing of their affair.

The roads were muddy and didn't help at all with their traction, but infront of them was the giant citadel, perched atop a cliff side, or rather into it.

Virgil had ease of access to it, he knew the layout quite well and though he claimed to only be a joke among the noblesse, his intellect wasn't to be questioned in Miguel's opinion.

And after some struggle they had finally succeeded in getting in, the marble floor shimmering with the pale moon light's reflection, it would have seemed gorgeous if not a trap.

Miguel warned his fellow, noticing an odd presence inside the chambers, only one that too.

Then he noticed, the doors had suddenly closed behind them, the iron gates that seemed to remain open all night had just blocked off their only exit plan.

From the shadows, a man lit in green arose, carrying with him a blue handled knife.

"Well well," He began, he would have even clapped probably, "I've never seen your face before, but Virgil I have, excuse the town's civilian's absence, they weren't cooperating with me, so I had to.. comply to their demands and let them go."

He tilted his head, baring his fangs, an odius laughter emanating and reverberating through the chamber, slit by a silver chandelier, paintings Miguel noticed to be of Rashperance himself among the walls.

Virgil frowned, hiding behind Miguel he couldn't do much if at all here.

"Sebastian, seems like you were behind all of this." Miguel acknowledged.

His hand gripped on his own sword, his wrist's hidden blade wouldn't help him at all here, and he had a feeling he should have carried some more gunpowder and ammunition with him.

"That I was," He answered, raising the knife in their direction, "Though, do excuse me for not slaying a fat calf in your honor, my dear 'lord'."

Miguel was shook, he stayed where he was, stood standstill in his tracks.

He narrowed his eyes, "So you knew?"

He showed an abhorrent smile, showcasing his glowing orbs and his pale face lit by the moonlight, "Yes." He answered, getting ready in a stance Miguel had no issue countering.