Repent: Gwyllomay of the Darkness (1.5) (MANUSCRIPT)

-CAPITOL 28- Dethrone, Part Two (re1)

      "Gwyllomay, get up and stand!" General Brandon shouted, his hand sliding out from his pockets.
      Slowly, a giant, black blade hissed through the air. Electricity vibrated through the wind, pulsating. A sable sword had wrapped its own hilt around the general's wrist. Around his hand  curled a silver hilt, sleek like a bell.
      Gwyllomay's eyes stared passed Quilke's slick stance. "Alexandra, how I long to hold your hands again. To hold your entire body in my-" 
      "As if I'd allow you the time of day, as unfortunate as that is." Quilke stepped in front of Gwyllomay, his longer nose poking out. "Alexandra Yuliannos won't be returning by my whims anytime soon. Or, perhaps, I could just bring her back, if only to screw with you. Perhaps I'd be nice enough to do that much, only to remove her presence just as quickly!" 
      "This guy really is more cruel than Gwyllomay!" Grace bit her bottom lip. 
      Quilke tossed a fist out into the air. "In fact, you're never allowed back in Polidoria again!" 
      "Wh- What?" Daniel jumped up, the nails at the tips of his fingers growing. "What are you bloody talkin' about, mate?" 
       General Brandon pointed his sword at Quilke. "You might wanna toss out Gwyllomay, but I have business with you." 
       Quilke's sadistic smile faded, his red eyes going beady and narrow. 
      "Really, no words towards my aggression?" The general licked his lips. "Mhmhmhm! You're going to find out, real soon here, what makes the organization of Temple such a dangerous and long-lasting one." 
       Quilke jumped and flipped through the air in that next moment. 
       "Ah! The good man has decided to perform some acrobatics for me." General Brandon widened his eyes, gripping tighter to the sword around his arm. "By the gifts of Choronzon, old God of Temple, I cast my blade down to you." 
         Suddenly, Quilke's top hat blew off his head. His eyes widening, the grip he wielded over the air drifted away. His body plummeted to the ground, and his eyes twitched. Getting up to stand, Quilke's arm spasmed in agony.  
       "What d- did you... d- do to me? B- Blew my mind, if I do say so myself!" 
       "Ah, so now you finally talk? I was wondering when I was going to be worthy." Brandon put a finger to his lips. "Well, a good magician never reveals his secrets, vampyre." 
       "You're no 'magician', human." Quilke bit his bottom lip and creased his forehead. 
       "No, you're quite right on that. I'm a general who has given up his sobriety in exchange for the powers of a 'tribunal faerie'." Brandon's blue hair swayed. 
       "Hm, how troublesome. You must know quite a bit. About faeries, that is." Quilke looked down at his right arm, the hand now bruised and purple. 
       "Faeries. Fey. Banshees. Whatever you wish to call them, it makes no difference to me. You 'vampyres' are a type of cursed faerie. Yet now, I've become a cursed human... in order to defeat your kind." 
       Quilke shook his right hand violently. "I need the love and sanity of a human woman. R- Right now! Your blasting of me from the sky has severely damaged my arm. Hah! How could I allow myself to be so vulnerable?" 
       "Hmph. Choronzon is one of the three High Fey, those who lord over the other common fairies. He is a dark creature who only gives power to those who give up a strong part of their personality for it." Brandon reached into his pockets, his hand sliding out a bottle of vodka. "It's sort of the opposite of lent. Hahaha! In order to gain the mystic powers of such a grotesque demon, I must always make myself drunk. One day, this'll kill me. My liver will shut down from all the poison I've been consuming my entire life. In the meantime, I'm gonna look really cool kicking your ass." The general pointed his charcoal-colored sword at Quilke's shoes, tracing it up to his face. "And yet, it would seem as though I've already injured you pretty well." 
       Quilke clenched his teeth. "What did you even do to my arm? It still hurts! I c- can't heal it as much as I normally could." 
       "'The laceration of a thousand cries'." Brandon shut gaze out from the world. "With just a mere gust of wind, generated from me flicking my weapon, a lot of the bones in your fingers just straight up broke. Mhmhmhm! How's that, vampyre?" 
        "Damn you. Damn you and your 'Choronzon'!" Quilke looked down, his lips pouting. 
        "You're quite the sharply dressed individual, I must give you that, Quilke. However, dressing for success won't win games here! Talking down to the King of the Abyss, Choronzon, will get you nowhere!" 
         "Enough!" Quilke jumped up, his legs appearing right behind the general's back. 
        "Shit, you're fast!"
        "Brandon!" Grace screeched, her hand reaching into her pocket. 
        The general fell down, his body tossed over the rough rubble. His skin torn up, blood drained out over his cargo pants. The blue of his jacket now mixed with the dark red liquid of his blood. 
        "Damn. I never thought I'd be kicked in the back by a vampyre. I always thought I'd be stabbed in the back by one of my own kind. Ha, get it?" Brandon coughed into his elbow as he slowly got up to stand on his knees. 
         Quilke shook his head. "General Brandon Yuichi, one of the best of Temple. Yet you fall to me so easily. I'd be so ashamed if I were you! Hmhmhm."
         "It's... not about... falling." Brandon ran his forearm across his mouth.
         "What?"  
         "If you knew a damn thing about anything, you'd know that it's never about falling. It ain't about how many times you fall. It's about how many times you get back-"
         "Gwyllomay," Quilke's reptilian eyes suddenly slithered over to the other vampyre sitting a few feet away from him. "I'm growing quite bored of this. If you don't leave Polidoria now with all your friends, I'm going to kill them slowly."
         Gwyllomay clutched at his face as fangs protruded outward. Each tooth shined a stark glimmer. His red eyes drifted down to the ground, as his right hand went to the top of his scalp. 
        "Alexandra, how I miss you so." 
        "Ah, my Caralein surely sympathizes with your pain, dear friend. However, I am now the new ruler of this kingdom. Not Elizara. Not Eris Bathory. Not you, certainly... nor anyone else." 
        Gwyllomay bit his bottom lip, drawing blood to race down his chin. "Quilke Weldspar, I would not leave my sacred land so easily, and yet I am no fool. You have gained new powers. I can feel them. I can sense them coursing throughout you. And since I do not know what to expect, I shall not involve my friends. Indeed, though I do not fear for my own security against you, I also have no wish to endanger the others. I wanted to see you for myself... and now I have." 
        Quilke cocked his head back. "You truly think that you're still the strongest vampyre? You truly think that you've nothing to protect of your 'own' security? You think that after these past few centuries since, you left this kingdom, that we haven't been getting stronger without you? Is that what you think, Gwyllomay? Hmph! Well, you were always ignorant." 
        "I would actually hope you've all improved after all this time, Quilke! I also know, however, that no other vampyre can surpass me. It's not arrogance. It's the natural order. The heirarchy! Quilke, I shall not kill you today. I may not kill you tomorrow. But one day, I will be there to see your mouth gushing over with your own blood." 
        Quilke swallowed heavily, looking down to see his own leg shivering. "Well, it's as I s- said. Leave Polidoria now! LEAVE! And you won't be able to come back. If ever we meet again, 'Lord Gwyllomay', then it shall be in your 'new' realm. The new roads you walk upon, the new lives you comfort with your cold hands, and the new societies in which you assist." 
        Behind the Posh-dressed fellow, metal chains pulsed into the rocky ground. Fire spread all around a heap of iron and stone, giving off the smell of a fine roast. The iron congealed, screeching. Through it all, flames encircled above the stone. Yellow flares hopped through the wind, embers landing on small rocks. 
       Contained in a rectangular shape, an odd swirling of energy growled. 
       "It's... a portal!" Daniel pointed. 
       "You walk through this, and you don't come back." Quilke grinned. "Do I make myself clear?" 
       Daniel clenched his teeth as he felt his heart race. "And what makes you so certain of that, huh? Gwyllomay can easily make a door with his own blood!" 
       "Daniel, I wish it were that simple." Gwyllomay closed his eyes.
       "Wh- What d- d- do you mean?" 
       Quilke nodded. "There's a book in the Bibliothek di Shyeh-Sanguinea. In each of its pages, there exists a 'bloodprint' of all the important members of elite Polidorian society. Each person is remembered in this 'magical' security system. It's a sort of... registry. Therefore, when they sacrifice a lot of their blood to open up the gateway, the system remembers them. But if 'something' were to happen to one of the pages which currently records the blood of a member, then that wouldn't be very good, now would it?" 
      "No way." Daniel's copper eyes blinked. "He's gonna... erase you from the books?" 
      "Quilke, you're making a grave mistake." Gwyllomay shook his head. 
      "Oh, am I now?" The Posh man, his white ascot becoming frilly, ran a hand through the stubble which had grown over his face. 
       "If the people of Polidoria turn on you as their new ruler, I might not be there to save you."
       "What do you mean 'might'?" 
       "Well, what if another vampyre opens up a portal, and I just go through theirs?" 
       Suddenly, Quilke's lips tightened. 
      "You... didn't really think through this, did you?" 
      "How dare you! Yes I did." Quilke's lips angrily curled back over his teeth. "I have foreseen this already, you damn half-wit." Pulling his breath back in a ferocious inhale, the vampyre produced a bubbly smirk. "That is why I shall make sure that no vampyre has to leave my kingdom. In the new world I'm creating, no one will ever leave my sanctity." 
        A crooked smile raffled over Gwyllomay's mouth. "Hm, then I guess I really won't be there to save you when they all turn against your cruelty, as well as your captivity." 
       "And why would you do that? Save me, that is. Unless you'd rather I read your mind to find out the answer!" 
       "I just thought we were old friends, after all. You and I were such great accomplices back then. We danced and sang over the impregnable bodies of our human-whores, their dainty legs splashed in wine as we pounded their brains out. Mhmhmhm! You were my favorite, Quilke. The one sincere fellowship I ever had. Not many knew of our companionship, and as such, some of the other royal families were contentious about you. They had heard your name drifting off my lips a few times, and yet not much else aside from that. Hmmm. Quilke, I always cherished your company." 
       Quilke's grin eroded as his head tilted back to the portal he had erected, its pillars reaching high into the red atmosphere above. "Leave now, Gwyllomay, before I murder your friends in front of you. You were a fake friend, in the end." 
       "No way. Gwyllomay! You used to be friends with this guy?" Daniel pouted as his feet moved before him, aiming themselves for the fiery portal. "You were quite the indulgent fellow, too! Yeesh!" 
       Grace tapped her left foot on the ground. "From the looks of it, I'd say they were more like inseparable brothers. I wouldn't say that's too much of a shocker though. Did you just happen to miss the part where he fucked women like they were mindless objects?" 
       "Uh, right. Shit! Yeah, that's no good, my dude." Daniel blushed. 
       Grace rolled her eyes. "Then again, we are talking about the former king of vampyres here. Gwyllomay used to be all sorts of bad, I guarantee you. He was the lord of lust and debauchery. I doubt he used to be a part of anything 'noble'." 
       Quilke chortled. "My, my. It sounds like your new 'friends' are talking shit about you." 
       "Not quite." Grace winked. "Gwyllomay was a foul beast, but I've seen him change. In my eyes, he's a noble man now. He's like that of a real human man." 
        His heart filling up with glee, Gwyllomay couldn't control the smile that bloomed across his face. "And to add to that, Quilke, I'm going to find a way to return my kingdom. I don't care how long it takes me. I will find an alternate way-point to get back to Polidoria!" 
        Quilke clenched his fists as he watched the group begin to walk through the fixed portal. "With being a 700-year-old creature of lust and mania, I'm surprised you haven't figured out a way before. Hmhmhm! And besides, I can't believe you're doing this. You're putting this all on yourself, you know. We could fight, here and now, yet you don't want those who you love to be injured. Pfft. How weak of you! You fear their mortal harm- Their death, as it were. And I've even shown you a life without death! A life where everyone can be brought back. That is what I intend to do, after all. Just watch this." 
         Below the Posh man's black shoes, the dead body of Princess Yinara began to shake. Her pink hair rippled across her face, her once green eyes darting about. Her arms lifted her body slowly off the ground. Humming began to reverb off her cheeks, like the singing of an innocent woman. 
        "Hello?" 
        Daniel stepped back from the portal, his eyes shaking. "N- No. No way! This... isn't real. She was dead when we got here!" 
        "Huh?" Princess Yinara put a hand to her sternum, where blood now dried. "Whoa! What happened to me?" Her voice echoed with a reverb.
        General Brandon's jaw dropped. "You've... got to be kidding. This poor woman is still alive?" 
    Daniel bit his bottom lip. "And yet her voice sounds so far away. So distant!" 
        "Yes, yes. You see, I discovered something amazing back then. All the different blood types of Polidorian vampyres. X, XY, Y, and Z, when formed together... create the Fountain of Youth! When the sanguine juices flow, they create a cream that shall never allow a creature to perish from this Earth! GHHHAHAHA! And yet, despite this wonderful discovery, I found out that it was not so complete, for the soul of a person could not return to their body right away, now could it? Oh, poor Caralein was so incomplete back then. Agh! It pains me to even think about how crooked her resurrection had been. Hmph. As such, the spirit of a previously perished one needed to come back down to Earth, and that's when I discovered the 'Mortal Coil'. A little device which connects the spirit from its other dimension to this one, much like a virtual-reality of sorts! GHHHAHAHA!" 
        Gwyllomay shut his eyes tightly. "Quilke, your little monologues are starting to bore me. When I see you again, I will erase you from existence. What you've done to Yinara Yuliannos is perverse. I'm disgusted. And I will personally see to it that, one day, your head shall fall on a pike. Until then, I guess I am, truly, dethroned."  

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