𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥'𝐬 𝐒𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨

The blue-flamed skeleton emitted a low growl, as if it were a whisper from the depths of darkness.

Stab.

Yet another growl resonated through the air, sending shivers down the spine. Crimson liquid erupted from the man's punctured flesh, splattering across her visage in a macabre tapestry of red and viscera.

The malevolence oozed from each aperture the Angel Rider carved into his form. She could sense it, coiling like ethereal tendrils escaping from the crevices, akin to the wisps of smoke billowing from the contraptions scattered throughout the abode. Her loyal pitbull inhaled deeply, detecting the stench of wickedness emanating from the man.

It reeked of rancid milk and charred remnants. It was through this olfactory revelation that the pitbull discerned his master's righteous judgment.

"Walter, dinner," commanded the Angel Rider.

Walter obeyed without hesitation, saliva dripping from his jowls as he sprinted towards the man. With a ferocious leap, Walter lunged at the man, his powerful jaws clamping down on the man's arm. Bones cracked and splintered under the immense pressure, causing the blue flames to flicker and sputter from the pitbull's mouth. The man let out a bloodcurdling scream, a sound that echoed through the desolate halls of the abode.

The Angel Rider watched with a steely gaze, her hollow eyes burning with determination. She knew that this battle was not just about defeating a mere enemy, but about vanquishing the darkness that had consumed his soul. As Walter tore into the man's flesh, she could see the malevolence seeping out, dissipating into the air like a foul mist.

The room was filled with the sounds of growls, snarls, and the sickening squelch of flesh being torn apart. The macabre tapestry of red and viscera grew larger, painting the walls and floor in a grotesque display of violence. But amidst the chaos, the Angel Rider remained resolute, her purpose unwavering.

Finally, with one last powerful shake of his head, Walter released his grip on the man's lifeless arm. The blue flames extinguished, leaving behind a charred and mangled skeleton. The room fell silent, the only sound remaining the heavy panting of the exhausted pitbull.

The Angel Rider approached the lifeless figure, her eyes scanning the remains. She could still sense the remnants of darkness, but it was faint, weakened by her unwavering resolve. She knew that her mission was not yet complete, that there were more battles to fight and more souls to save.

With a nod of gratitude towards her loyal companion, the Angel Rider turned and walked away from the abode, leaving behind the remnants of the man's wickedness. As she mounted her motorcycle, with Walter in his little carriage attached, and rode off into the night, she carried with her the knowledge that she had once again triumphed over evil, and that her journey as the Angel Rider would continue, bringing justice and redemption to those in need.

The Angel Rider rode along the desolate highway, her eyes fixed on the horizon. The wind whipped through her flamed hair, carrying with it the weight of her purpose. She didn't know where she was headed, but there was one thing clear. Her mission was to rid the world of darkness.

As the miles stretched on, memories of past battles flashed through her mind. Each victory, each vanquished soul, fueled her determination. The Angel Rider was a beacon of hope, a force to be reckoned with. She had seen the depths of evil and emerged stronger, her resolve unyielding.

The night sky above was adorned with stars, twinkling like beacons of light. They seemed to guide her, whispering secrets of the next battle that awaited her. The Angel Rider knew that her journey was far from over. There were still souls to save, darkness to conquer.