Future of Calamity [Under Rewrite]

Chapter 20 - A Lost Boat

Deathly chills ran along his prickly skin, the trembling sparks - that zapped along his struggling form - coerced the crackling fuzz that permeated the calmness of his mind into a painful ache. His scraped fingers dug into the wounded stone, as his body bled along the rough texture. Skull ablaze with attention deceiving rumbles, he still exacted the dreadful thoughts into one focus. 'Get... up!' he inwardly demanded, mashing his hands against the ruined cobble as his muscles screamed with exertion. Sarid understood his predicament perfectly, his momentary distraction got them out safely; but now the injury boring deep into his side seared with a dreadful vengeance. Despite this, he slammed his palm into the burn and wrenched himself up with an afflicted cry.

The crisp winds scratched at his string chest that only adorned a tight charcoal shirt; vest having been reduced to ashes as nature pulled coldly at his burning wounds. He levelled his eyes across the blinding horizon, the sight of a great looming shadow molded by the sun a small part in his far-seeing gaze. Sarid could barely figure the devilish expanded wings upon the orb of fire that settled along the sea, his chance at escape funneled right through his fingers.

"He's alone! We can take him alive," a far off voice resounded from the man's side. Heaving a dreadful sigh, the half-malak hobbled around upon his weakened heel, and glared at the surrounding noble uniforms. Steel of sliver and accented auric lined upon his sight, soon seeking to surround him as their repetitive clanking of metal alerted him of their intention. Sarid's lidded eyes bespoke exhausted irritation, and his charred gloves stretched and ripped along the tightening of fists.

Cautiously, the exorcists circled him with poised spear tips and gilded blades, their proud mark billowing with pride in the howl of the weakened Vortigen. Lightning coursed up and down his body, the aurous light flashing darkened hues among his ruffled strands and harsh expression. With a dry chuckle, the half-malak swiped the leaking of ivory that slipped past his locked lips; arteries pumping with comfortable but fiery blood that flared under the veil of his steaming skin. "...I'm... not failing now," he coughed out. His fingers flickered as the brilliant electricity coiled around them, until the familiar daggered weapon shape materialised in his palm; vanishing from its scattered position across the ridge. "Sandā!" he shouted out with the force of a storm and crashing of thunder. As he did so, the blade in his hand spun around his finger and crackled violently with lightning.

The tweeting of a thousand birds echoed out as the vitality of Rajin invigorated its valiant act of defiance, the imbued blade screaming as it sailed into the ground. Arcing golden waves that burst from the very soul clambered out of the stone like paralysing vines, splitting the formidable material with the grace of a prowling panther; leaping from side to side as its bolts lashed out and burrowed into the bodies of who opposed. An intense spike of discomfort snapping across their nervous systems, the Abbey's forces halted their advancement and siezed up with scream of pain.

Unwilling to give in, the man sharply inhaled as he sprinted feverishly, reeling a quick knife into the throat of a stunned foe that unfortunately barred his way. Crimson spurted out harshly as Sarid ripped his weapon forth and past the strangulated husk, and set his eyes upon the best target for survival. The straining fizzle of unease scraping his skin, the abnormal nothingness overcoming the pit of emotion burrowed deep within; the sheering winds wailing at the empty space he fell through as the half-breed leapt from the crumbling ridge. The abrupt weightlessness of unfeeling air dragged him down like tentacles towards the dredging depths of lapping cerulean. Closer, closer, closer. A natural abyss marred in enveloping blue, whisked by the dredges of brushed ink.

SPLASH!

~~~

"Arise, warrior."