Future of Calamity [Under Rewrite]

Chapter 4 - Fallen Angel

Down in that hideous pit, sat the daemon. Surrounded by dilapidated walls, riddled with claw marks, and her only light being the metallic trapdoor that kept her prisoner. The woman's entire outfit was ruined and torn, exposing an uncomfortable amount of skin with certain developments in her long imprisonment, dirtied with the ghastly state of the pit and dried blood. Her face fared no better, and while the beautiful features still lied there, they were guarded by a harsh frown and a pained glare; complexion blemished by the years. Even so, the great blackened mane of hair that trailed across her body - while ragged - she took care of it best she could. For Laphicet. The daemonic arm? Bound by hasty, unkempt bandages that kept the thirsting appendage at bay.

Suddenly, an abrupt thud and clang reached her ears, but she did not raise her pupils any higher than at what shuffled in front of her. A werewolf. Lowly and weak, providing no strength whatsoever. Just enough to keep her alive. It wasn't even able to catch a glimpse before it was flattened by a giant gleaming claw, while the woman let out a brief and ferocious cry of effort. The canine's face was crushed in a single moment, and its essence became her energy.

Another. A simple catch of her scent sent it into a blind rush, one she honoured to meet. The daemon's untrained paws couldn't even reach her as she slashed its face in a vigorous slam, letting out a yell before back-handing the beast into a now crumbling crater in the broken walls. Like a wolf, she lunged high into the air, and came down full force - rendering its features into scarlet paste. Her horrendous limb pulsed as the blighted energy drained into it, a pleasant feeling filling her chest as an iron taste strangely lingered on her taste buds. She'd grown to become accustomed to such a taste.

As her claw vanished into the pale cloth adorning her arm, a sudden faintness hummed her mind, and her knees trembled in weakness. Collapsing to the ground, the daemon woman could no longer muster the strength to move, even as her left limb shook strenuously against the cracked stone ground.

From that day forward, the world changed. It became a hell, for both people and beasts - possessed by daemons to feast upon human flesh. Her once tender heart, frozen with despair, is only capable of feeling the taste of bloody meat, and the hatred towards that man.

Creeaak

Just like any other time, the trapdoor opened once again. This time, however, a cleanly white dressed woman, embroidered in cyan and gold, fluttered down. Her crimson white-tipped hair laying gently behind her head as she landed, the black eye mask hiding her searching gaze as she leered into the shielding grey mist. With a smash, a bandaged hand streaked out of the fog with a feral shout, and carried the mysterious woman straight into the stone-bricked walls mercilessly. Raising her higher and putting pressure on the face she'd forcefully grasped, the daemon's whole arm suddenly burst into flames. Sneering at the blazing limb, the woman clenched her hand harder and aggressively threw the mystery figure away, to which the woman swiftly reoriented herself and landed with grace. Sweeping her arm roughly, the burning fire on the daemon's arm immediately died out.

"Where is he?" the beastly girl coldly demanded, hunched over and glaring through the blades of hair dancing in her vision.

Uncaring of the threatingly asked question, the woman remained undaunted, and requested answers of her own. "You have persevered in this darkness for many years, feeding on daemons." Seeing this, the daemon grew irritated, and seized the red-haired woman's neck harshly. Still, the woman did not falter at the hostility, "Do you hate him that much, Velvet Crowe?"

The long-dead light in the chilling gold eyes stared into the emotionless mask, an aurous haze of hope falling into her abyssal black pupils. "Who are you to speak? You are his malak," she disregarded. "Where is Artorias?" Velvet demanded again, anguish building in her tone.