"Cerberus may guard the gates, but only a hound of hell knows the dark paths between the worlds." - unknown
When you're a Power-no-Pentagon ranger, you can't expect your life not to throw curveballs at you, can you? Troy Williams might've signed up...
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Slash.
Dodge.
Parry.
Repeat.
Troy's body moved in autopilot as he weaved through the hordes of the demonic creatures. With every slash to the chest, the demons screeched in agony and turned into dust—filling the air with a strong stench of rotting flesh and sulfur. Crimson liquid flowed through the deserted streets, with some splattering across cars and other vehicles. Thick, dark clouds covered the skies in a blanket of smoke and sin.
The Pentagon was in the middle of yet another demonic invasion.
But this time, things were different.
As the demons fell one after another, millions more spawned. Some crawled up from the cracks beneath the surface, while others fell from above. The ones on the ground had their faces frozen in a state of melting; their eyes bulged out of their sockets, and lips curled into a sickly smile; their limbs were mostly bones with the ribs peeking out from their torso.
The flying demons were a whole other kind of beast. Their features matched those of the birds, with their wings as massive as a three-story building; their beaks curled; and their legs were those of the crows. Unlike birds, these creatures had hands that held the Sephiroth—a sickle shaped weapon of mass destruction.
The Pentagon rangers were at the center of it all, watching as the hell beings wreaked havoc at the plaza. No amount of power was truly enough to defeat them all.
Especially not when their leader's body was silently writhing in pain under the bright-coloured suit. Troy had not realised why his skin burned unnaturally, why rashes had appeared the night before, and why cheeks were now soaked in tears. Until now, he brushed it off as a fever—even though he had never gotten sick in over seven years.
Doctors always noted his perfect condition every time he went for a monthly health check up. The worst he had to deal with was a few scratches and bruises here and there from his time in the Pentagon.
But as he swung his sword at the hellspawns one after the other, his arms trembled and his muscles screeched in agony. With gritted teeth, he soldiered through the pain. One demon down meant one less to worry about later.
The rangers effortlessly followed his lead. Blood splattered on their swords and outfits, soaking them entirely, but none of them were concerned.
Before long, the dark clouds deliciously clashed against one another, creating stunning streaks of yellow. Thunder rumbled, adding a new flavour to the already sinful atmosphere.
"We're outnumbered," Nicholas shouted. "There's no way we can take them all."
"So, what? We should just sit still, look pretty?" James's voice sliced through the air, followed by a gunshot and spillage of demon guts into the air. "Okay, that has to be the coolest thing ever."
