Future of Calamity [Under Rewrite]

Chapter 34 - Break

"Another human consorting with daemons...?! Have you no shame, girl?!"

With the newly emerging adversaries halting steadfast at the Praetor's side with her winded malakhim, brandishing their gleaming blades staying firm in both gloved palms, each collective force readied another crash akin to opposing waves; with the screech of steel boots being the shrill whistle.

Velvet's tailcoat bristled in the winds of her exerted force, cracking marble in this wrathful dash, the visceral twirling of a crying polearm being the only command as ground surrounding rumbled with tearing force. Hands splayed aloft with the entrancing runes of amber circling, the duelist malakhim brought their mana to bear: sending forth a cracked hail of daggered rock to skewer the approach.

Nevertheless, the daemoness did not falter at this dangerous sight, only serving to lighten the expression held, as a name boomed from her lips.

Not even in a moment, did the fierce howl of shredding winds carve this composed counter-attack, as the gashing tornado was sent crumbling into flaxen dust; the spinning blade having rendered it soaring past and scathing the casters to a gasping knee. Eleanor was caught into a stumble, as ginger locks were severed into tufts from the gyrating weapon, barely marring the opponent at her frantic duck.

Velvet's cessation of the rush was no hesitation, with the rumbling pulses of the limb as her signal and in a revolve of irony, did she lean back into a brief cartwheel - amidst the turn serving space for Sarid's inward leap right over the Therion's flipping form. No matter what the pair have been through in rising tensions and erupting emotion, they were no less of a team.

With the daemon's blackened traits flailing with this spin, the exorcists found themselves suddenly affront to a miraculous fighter, at which this sailing blade that wreathed its storm of steel fell right back into his waiting hands. Letting a belitting smirk show serving to irritate their naive foe, this changed half-malak flicked the sword into a reverse grip as they sprinted forth, instantly did he slam a palm forward in response, this reborn gale to send the advancing malakhim careening right back into the altar: splintering it's pious shape with their stunned bodies.

Time for the new challenger it seems. With Eleanor's valiant swings coursing out to render his guard, Sarid found no trouble in letting this spear spark the ornamental metal he bore, leaning under a potentially ringing blow before flipping back and through this thickened air. Another name rang free, this time from his lips.

"Magilou!"

"It is I~!"

Flapping white fell away in the sights of narrowed green, only for a fountain of azure to circulate at their feet; springing out came a vibrant somersault of extravagant colour, with the Witch's dramatic appearance casting in place a giant card doll that swatted away the confused Praetor with a resounding jeer. Guardians: the unmistakable yet equally as ridiculous of a power that the grinning Witch now wielded at the work of her reclaimed 'slave'.

At this abrupt and effective teamwork, the injured Praetor stumbled to her feet at the assistance of the just as wounded malakhim bound under her rule. Either way, the girl had no chance to take a rest from these cycling dreadful duets of death, as those blazing medallions raced ahead again. However, Velvet's honed blade only yearned for one goal; the High Priest's harrowed face drawing aghast as the daemon neared, step by step. Nonetheless, the Therion's mildly astounded snort slipped past as that gilded lance barred this offense again.

And so, her heel sparked on stone, and with the encompassing chaos of a newly began battle racking the hall, she sprang towards this stubborn enemy once more.

Wristblade roaring out with each incessant slam upon the weakening Praetor's staff, the Wolf darted about the frantic prey with swift, destabilising strikes. Eleanor's flailing sweeps with excessive reach could only grace the withered air Velvet remained a moment before, swiping along her torn and blackened garments in fearful inefficiency while the exorcist's grip grew ached and jittery with each rumbling blow dealt.