Rogue Adventures - A Tale from Neverbeen Universe

17

The dream was what spurred Raphael on, the dream was his only voice of conscience right now. It drowned everything else out but the approving hum of the darkness within; it knew he would need it soon. Maybe already right now.

He had never met this Daemon there at the altar, but from Gene's reaction he could guess who he was. And then there was the dream itself. Raphael's gaze sharpened. He drew his sword. 'Stay back,' he linked his mind with Gene's, and he obediently took a step backwards.

'He's all yours,' Gene murmured, 'Just be careful. That's the one who kidnapped me.' Raphael had assumed as much, but now he had Gene's affirmation. He cautiously approached, ready to fight.

"Now, now," the Daemon had an even thicker accent than Raphael, "Is this a way to greet family?"

"I do not know you," Raphael stated evenly, "and if it's true and you're one of my father's cronies, I'll have even more reason to kill you." He lifted his sword.

"I wouldn't call me a crony, but, indeed, I am here on Lord Rhagkal's orders," the man admitted and grinned, "What about you, Gene? At least you're going to greet me properly, right?" He opened his arms as if he expected a hug.

Behind Raphael Gene shifted into a defensive stance. "No way in hell. You can't be trusted."

"Pity," the stranger commiserated, then grinned mischievously. Suddenly he leapt over the altar, drew two shortswords and slashed them at Raphael, who reacted swiftly enough to parry. In a fast succession the man attacked, blow after blow, strike after strike. Raphael instantly understood, this guy had a lot of combat experience. Not that Sendrith had been an easy opponent, but the difference between him and that man was vast as worlds.

Raphael countered every thrust with a slash of his own, parried and blocked and swerved until they twirled around each other in a deathly dance. His souled longsword burned with the desire to taste the other Daemon's flesh; white hot sparks flew with each contact with the shortswords. The man came at him at a fast pace, each strike a combo of at least two attacks. But Raphael was fleet-footed himself and also had a lot of experience up his sleeve.

Yet it had been a long time since he had fought an opponent who was at least on par with him. Their speed was almost even, their skills and combat style not very different. Even though Raphael was mostly self-taught, he had the feeling as if he was fighting someone who could have been his sword master. The moves were almost familiar, like a non-existent memory of combat training. Only it had never happened and this was a real fight.

He countered, broke his opponent's stride and attacked with his own successive blows. A strike, a feint, a swipe, a thrust, another feint, a backhanded blow. The older Daemon suddenly teleported. For a splitsecond Raphael was surprised, but he ducked just in time and swung around to block the second attack.

Raphael grinned ferrally. Now this was getting interesting.

He wound up for a swipe, then teleported behind the guy. Only he spun around, flickered into another angle and struck in a whirlwind attack of blades. Raphael jumped to the other side of the altar, and the man followed him only to be met with a full force strike to his midriff, which he barely swerved. But the man used the force of his rotation, teleported again and struck first with one blade then the other. Raphael blocked and parried, then jumped again.

Back and forth they teleported again and again, exchanging blow after blow. Raphael hadn't felt this much alive in a long time, even though he was technically undead. But this was how he liked to fight best. Fiercely he battled the other Daemon, without pause, without respite, without a second to think. It was pure skills and instinct which drove him; he was finally fighting at his best.

Then their fast pace changed yet again. They didn't slow down, but they didn't accelerate either; the many teleportations pushed their speed to new limits anyway. But now the older Daemon started adding telepathic attacks to the mixture. And again, Raphael was surprised for the blink of an eye. Then he raised his mental defenses, like he was trained to do, bolstered the bulwark in his mind against the skillful and precise attacks, before he struck back.

The last time he had had to use these techniques was when he had fought his father. He was surprised to see there was one more Daemon who could use telepathy like that, but then again this guy was at least an ally of his father. Like a thunderstrike pain erupted in his mind again and again, mental blows sharp as the blades this man was wielding. But Raphael had withstood worse, much worse; and he knew how to defend against them. He blocked the next attack, then lashed out with his mind like a hail of white hot needles piercing the other Daemon's mental defenses.

But the man hardened his blockade as he parried Raphael's windmill strikes, then teleported again, thundered an attack that shot straight from his brain through Raphael's spine and double-struck with his shortswords. Raphael grunted and blocked, momentarily stopped in his stride. He tightly locked his mind as painful after painful wave seared through his head and blocked the blades as he backstepped. His only option to counter was another teleportation. So he jumped, and jumped again as his opponent had guessed his move and teleported himself. He fired a napalm rain of mental attacks at the man as he did another feint. And instead of attacking him straight he drove for the altar to grasp the prism Sapphire Shard of Fiducia. Maybe he could use the artifact to his advantage...