Death Angel

Chapter 30: That which cuts deepest

The time for talk was done. Far be it for me to have to consider the ramifications of the prospect of heading into battle with my own dear father, only a single thought ran through my mind strongest: save the residents in the Hunter Robotics Building.

But there was also that faintest of nagging feelings that continued to persist as I flew through the air, ready to meet my father in mortal combat. I kept thinking about Death; worried, somehow, that his words were true. That a mythical being such as he were somehow in danger. I knew full well how powerful the beings we faced were. I was under no illusions as to the caliber of our opponents. 

I gripped both swords tightly in my hand, more for a sense of security than anything else, my thoughts racing, as I approached my father who was circling the skies like a hawk, occasionally darting about, at once evading and attacking, and entirely preoccupied. 

Death was doing his job of serving as a decoy.

My father moved in toward Death, flying at an angle, attempting to gain an aerial and tactical advantage against Death, but I knew such a thing was a difficult task, Death moved in the air as if in defiance of the laws of physics. His red eyes trailing the wind like fire, the dark cloak flapping about in the wind. There was something ethereal about Death’s visage as he fought with my father. I was reminded of the Apocalypse, of the battle between Light and Dark, Life and Death. Except such things were far too simple in the context of the two beings that now set their wills upon each other.

Donovan Hunter swung the massive broadsword with ease, the speed of his attacks were impressive given the size of the weapon he wielded. But Death’s scythe had the advantage of reach, and the wide angle at which he swung the scythe dramatically increased the distance between Death and my father.

Great, he’s using the scythe as a perimeter weapon. 

So long as he’s careful, I knew my father wouldn’t be able to breach the perimeter.

Death swung the scythe in careful timed motions, varying the angles each time to as to add an element of unpredictability. Death wasn’t wasting any movements attacking - he knew it was futile to do so. Rather, the focus of the attacks was defensive. Death was keeping the enormous broadsword at bay. So long as Donovan couldn’t attack Death, they were at a stalemate, which was exactly the situation I was hoping we would be in.

Had he noticed? I wondered.

My concern was mounting. I secretly hoped my father hadn’t noticed that Rina was no longer in play, but I had the sinking feeling that was a lost cause: Donovan Hunter was always aware where his chess pieces were. After all, it was his shrewd strategic and tactical mind that carried Hunter Robotics from a one-man operation in someone’s garage to what it is today. Such a shame, really, that my father hadn’t chosen to go down a more moral path in his quest to further his science.

Still, my father was giving absolutely no indication that he had noticed anything was awry. In fact, much of his attention appeared to genuinely be devoted toward battling Death. 

Death’s scythe kept moving in random orbit, creating a defensive wall around himself, keeping the nano-sword at bay. For a moment, I was hopeful that Death had managed to find the ultimate strategy against my father. 

But that hope was short-lived.

After what seemed to be the tenth futile strike, my father stopped swinging. After all, there was only so many times an attack can be thwarted before it is deemed fruitless. I realized with sudden fear that my father’s attacks weren’t random at all. 

I rushed toward my father as quickly as I could.

“My God, D! D! Can you hear me?” I screamed as loudly as I could, hoping Death would hear me but he continued to swing the massive scythe.