Souls Of The Fateless (FGO x God's Wrath OC Series Story)

Harbinger Of The End: II

"Wh... Who are you?" My mouth conveyed full confusion, widely agape at the turning surprise of the situation.

The glowing goddess twirled the proud weapon around in her hands.

Hidden behind the act of patience Typhoon persevered to uphold, the tempest of a warrior unbecoming of her usual attitude crackled in her eyes.

The hushed atmosphere encapsulating the space between the two waging friends popped and bubbled. My very flesh danced, rippling with intensity like an active wildfire was set upon my skin as neither made an effort to hide where they stood in the others' eyes.

"Truly going all-out for the spectacle, I don't ever recall you being so theatrical with your show of power. Then again gods will be gods."

"...Risking repeating myself like a broken record, I'll ask again for the billionth time. Are you still going to continue this mess? Can't you tell by now you're not yourself; like you've been altered to be the opposite of what you are?"

Typhoon's attempt at an exchange of words offered the same effect as trying to talk down a stone wall.

Ignoring her reasoning words, or perhaps they never had a chance to register from the start, the threatening look in Silva's pupils dulled and glossed over.

One foot at a time brought him creeping forward inch by inch to us like a spectre of death carrying out a task. Keeping his hands confined in his pockets, the corners of SIlva's lips parted to give a message as he let his power speak volumes.

"...Ái sto diáolo." Delivered with the heavy chanting-like tone of a curse behind his Greek accent, the phrase of profanity painted a clear picture that Silva's mind had already descended far away into a realm of madness.

"...A fight with me it is then, apologies in advance for already expecting as much, kid."

On the path of performing an upwards swing, Typhoon's mallet resembled a paintbrush going across a canvas as it flowed beautifully through the air, missing the halfling's face by millimeters in the small opening Silva had yet to close between them.

In a rush, Typhoon released her sledgehammer.

Continuing on its marked course, splashes of black colored the handle and worked their way up until the hammer was thoroughly colored.

Low hums reverberated from the weapon and exponentially grew in pitch until it vibrated entirely while rising higher. Its spin came to a stop meters above Silva's head.

"Time to go!"

With Aestus in tow, Typhoon threw me over her shoulder like a sack after giving her excited exclaim. Similar to how vines dangle from a tree, I watched from above as the mallet became metaphysical, its form replaced by a tear in space being born as the tiny cracks produced gave way to a rift capable of swallowing entire houses.

The spatial vacuum took in anything surrounding it, feeding itself while it grew larger still. Persisting and forcing himself free from the sucking clutches of the wind, Silva let his wings bloom on his back and took for the skies. Trails of silver accompanied my halfling friend, shadowing behind him as he broke the sound barrier in his speedy chase of us, his hands primed in his white dragon flames, and ready to char which of us two stood in his way first.

"He's not giving us any breathing space... Aestus, pass them back, Typhoon I might be able to-"

"Relax, relax, would you? No need for hysteric panicking. I've got ideas of mine waiting to come into play."

Shoving off all valid concerns feeding my worry, Typhoon kept with her back to Silva, stubbornly sticking with a decision to withhold my partner.

Like watching the action reel of a movie unravel right in front of me, my brain endlessly scrambled for ideas, racing against time to conjure a plan before the enflamed right fist of Silva's ate through the resisting gales and smote Typhoon and me in a hurricane of divine draconic fire.