Future of Calamity [Under Rewrite]

Chapter 36 - Black Roses

"Drop. It." Velvet pushed the Witch back with a growl, Magilou waving the stinging hand rapidly through the air.

"Noted..." the Witch sorrowfully whimpered, her scorned expression showing as she almost flopped over. Laphicet's mumbles of confusion came to, and in a second Magilou scrambled up from the lowly chidden posture to one of important note. "So! It appears you're facing a Shepherd and an Empyrean," she recalled with a returning bright grin, hiding the strained finger behind her back, "Ol' Shepsie's one thing, but Empyrean's are, y'know, just... gods who created the world? Do you think you can win by just smacking it around a bit?"

"That's no Empyrean. It's a phony. Artorias is just using a legend to control the people," Velvet bluntly presumed, fist folding with a grimace, "Wouldn't a true god be able to do something about the daemonblight?"

Off to the side, Eizen's sigh was quiet yet heavy, as he turned away from the conversation with a frown.

"You don't believe in Innomniat?" Rokurou asked in surprise.

"I believe something there exists that people CALL Innomniat. But it's just a malak that used a special arte to bring the other malakhim into our world."

"Does it matter?" Heads turned to the emerging accented voice that interjected from the courtyard's day to day bustle, and out stepped the form of Sarid: almost none the worse for wear except for an evident heft in each step as the crest bristled in the midday glamour. "Nobody, is immortal."

"You were up early," the Samurai stated, abruptly befuddled at the man's appearance not from the Inn. So, he just assumed.

"You could say that."

Velvet's stare lingered on the half-malak for a moment, the ire of her scar slipping away with a dismissive turn.

"Well!" Magilou interrupted as the group became full again, a fiendish glimmer of interest panning back to the woman in focus. "Aren't you awfully confident."

A pause of silence. "I witnessed it three years ago."

"Well, if it's not actually a god we're up against, we might just stand a chance."

"Of course we do," the daemoness unequivocally said, "And ultimately, our target is Artorias. I don't care about anything else."

"Revenge against Artorias... for her brother..."

"Alright, Laphicet," the Samurai suddenly announced, jerking the boy from his cloud of daydreaming thoughts. "Which way to the Empyrean's Throne?"

"Umm, it was north of Loegres, in the mountains up Danann Highway."

"If exorcists are keeping up their inspections, it might give us a chance to steal another malak," Velvet expected, that being their only choice to pass through the barrier.

Finally, the Reaper's steps crunched loose stone as he stepped close to assist. "I sent my men a sylphjay with orders to scout out the inspectors. With their information, we'll be able to plan out the attack."

"Hmm. We can meet up at Port Zekson."

"That's the plan."

As the clicking of their boots rumbled over the streets of the unsuspecting capital - trekking towards the entryway inspection - sounded a cough veiled by the echoing mutters and shouts of residential life. "One step closer..." the words trailed, gritted and mildly hoarse from the dry throat where it came.

Smudges of ivory, staining over the cloth bound upon draconic skin.

With the group's traversal weaving of this complex city, their chatter intermingled with that of the typical residents' daily commute, it didn't take long for them to reach the exit and begin their great track towards the Shepherd's place of rest. The brimming birth of sloping hillsides and greenery shining in the sun greeted eyes, just as the ridiculous back and forth between Witch and Normin came to a close.