Chapter 433 - The Fissure Between Hope And Despair

Just then, it began to rain; starting as droplets, and quickly turning into a shower as he briefly looked up at the gloomy weather that cemented the primordial fear that resided in his abdomen. 

"Kill him, kill him, kill him! Then we get the little princess," Renata leered out as he moved abnormally, lowering his stance as he flicked his arms limply as they began to shift. 

Losing their appearance of arms, his slender limbs shifted into lengthy, razor-linked chains honed for nothing else but maiming. 

The Marquis held no sense of urgency in his smile as he cracked his neck to both sides, beginning to walk towards the knight, as Renata stayed in place, using his range to his advantage. 

I see, Damien thought, the big guy will keep me occupied in the close-range while the runt attacks me with those chains. Pretty damn annoying, I'll say. 

Gathering his last chance of a fulfilling breath, he met the colossal, silver-skinned hulk of muscle that was clad in nothing but a black loincloth, dashing forth. 

Bringing himself closer to the muscle-bound brute who stood two heads taller than himself, he brought his blade back as he prepared for a clash–but it was a ruse. 

No way I'm meeting you head-on, he thought. 

Pivoting off of his right foot, he spun around after leading Ark into a false attack, maneuvering away from him as he dashed with greater speed this time, setting his sights on the shapeshifting man who bore the title of sin. 

"Oh? You're not a knight for little reason, I see!" Renata grinned, parting his lips as an enjoyed yell left. 

Both lengthy, violent limbs of bladed-chains were cast towards the knight, whipping, curving, and eviscerating the soil as they aimed towards his flesh. 

"I'm feeling woefully underestimated right now–!" Damien forced a smile on his lips as he hopped and spun his body to evade the blur of chains, repelling those he couldn't evade with his blade. 

From behind, he could feel the colossus of muscle stomping towards him, prompting him to swiften his counterattack. 

"I should tell you," Renata smiled as his blade-chain limbs multiplied, wielding six on either side, "nobody has seen my true face and lived–!" 

"Sorry to tell you then, that's changing today!" Damien yelled, flipping his longsword as wind gathered around its steel. 

Just as the array of bladed whips came at him from all directions, making dodging impossible, he swung his blade forth, generating a domal blast of wind that repelled them back–creating an opening towards the adrogynous inhuman. 

I've got you now–! He thought. 

As he pushed forward with air propelling him towards Renata, what he was greeted with was a smile more twisted than ever, contorted into utter glee as if the sin-bearing inhuman was holding back laughter. 

"You fool for it~!" Renata howled out. 

What–? He thought. 

Just as his instincts coaxed him to retreat, he attempted to break his momentum, jumping back–but it was too late. 

From the form of the red-haired, leering inhuman, flesh-formed spikes protruded out like a monstrous rendition of a porcupine's natural defenses. 

They pierced through his armor like butter, lodging into his abdomen, shoulders, legs, and arms–ensnaring him in the web of flesh-formed spears from the shapeshifter. 

I can't move…he thought. 

Along the pale spikes, his blood trailed, pouring from his new wounds as he sat there unable to move. 

So much blood…lost…I'm losing consciousness…he thought. 

"Die~! Die~! Die~!" Renata taunted, "I want to watch it~! Let me see the life leave your eyes, oh-so brave knight~!" 

It was only by the pain as smaller spikes protruding from the ones already embedded in his flesh that he held onto his consciousness, forcing himself to move once again as he dropped his blade, pulling himself from the spikes. 

Not yet, he thought. 

Not until I'm sure, he told himself. 

Not until I'm certain she's made it out of here, he resolved. 

"Graaaagh—!" 

He yelled out from the top of his lungs as pulling himself from the spikes tore away at his flesh further–the tiny, dozens of razor-sharp protrusions dragging alongside his interior mass. 

It was just in time before Ark reached his position: he fell from Renata's bodily protrusions, left with a dozen holes in his body as his momentary fall to his knees allowed the Marquis' boundless fist to miss its target, unleashing a wicked air pressure. 

Using whatever was in his reach at his disposal, he dug his finger into the dirt before flicking it upwards, sending the hail of natural sediment directly into the brute's eyes. 

"Grh–!" Ark winced, wiping his eyes as he found himself blinded. 

With that momentary opening, he lifted himself from the ground–an act that came with tremendous pain as every hole in his body bled profusely from the slightest movement–pushing himself past the Marquis. He uses the colossus' size to his advantage, making sure the shapeshifter couldn't attack while his comrade was in his way. 

Finding himself with adequate space to work with again, he huffed, attempting to gather his breath as he was left without his blade. 

"Ark, it's time to stop messing around," Renata's tone became serious as his limbs shifted back to normal arms. 

The titanic being stood straight as his chiseled, hulking back was to the knight, "It was your idea to make this a game."

Renata gritted his teeth, 'Well, plans change! This guy is a damn cockroach, and the princess is hauling herself out of here–!"

The Marquis of Brutality clenched his fists as all of his knuckles cracked in unison like an orchestra of looming violence–all while a calm, collected smile resided across his pale lips. 

"Understood," Ark said, slowly turning to face the wounded knight, "commendable effort so far, knight. Damien was it? I'll do you the honor of remembering that name."

"Shove your honor up your ass," Damien huffed out between heavy breaths. 

Just then, he felt something different emanate from the one who called himself the "Marquis of Brutality"; an aura more potent than anything he had ever felt, yet it wasn't born of magic. 

For once, it seemed Ark stopped "restraining" himself, or rather, suppressing the natural aura he gave off. 

It was the natural emission of his strength; the primordial instinct that recognized an unbeatable adversary–a predator whose jaws must be avoided. 

In comparison, the red-haired, youthful Beast of Sin didn't even do that much–there was simply no relativity between the two, to the eyes of the knight. 

"The Unequivocal Embodiment of Strength," in that moment, that's the title Damien's mind bestowed to Ark. 

…Getting scared? Horseshit. I know I'm going to die…but still, that guy there is a monster. Not like anything I've ever seen before. I could hack away at him through dusk till dawn, and he'd probably just laugh in my face. That's even more reason why I can't let him reach her–not as long as breath still fills my lungs, he thought. 

"Leviathan," Ark spoke to his comrade without turning to him. 

"Got it," Renata covered his ears. 

It was a confusing action to the knight, but he quickly surmised why the shorter of the assailants did that as he watched the colossus of strength rear his fist back with a smile. 

From that distance…? Is he really planning to attack me with a spell? From that stance? He thought. 

–His predictions could not be more incorrect: it was much more simple than that. 

The Marquis propelled his fist forward towards the air, supplementing a massive release of air pressure that burrowed towards the path of the knight. 

Before he could perceive what was coming, his ears popped from what sounded like the world itself falling down atop his head--not figuratively–blood spat from either side of his head as now all he could hear was blaring ringing. 

It was only at the last moment that he recognized the hardly-visible stratifications of the air, raising his hand just in that perplexing moment as he used his magecraft to cancel out the incoming air pressure. 

…What was that? I can't hear anything. My ears are shot. It was a blast of wind…from his fist? That…doesn't make any sense–that much power, just from wind pressure alone? He thought. 

As he looked forward, he witnessed Ark vanish from before his eyes with blinding speed, then feeling the colossal entity appear behind him. 

Before he could turn around to witness him, Ark held a wide smile as he spread his long arms out before swiftly clapping them upon either side of the knight's head with a propelling shock wave. 

"Ghh…" 

–Completely discombobulated, Damien fell face forward, flat onto the dirt as his mind went into a haze, only feeling the trickle of blood running from his ruptured ear canals. 

As he laid there, disabled, the barrier of wind dissipated. 

"Killing you is the condition to remove the barrier, isn't it?" Ark spoke, though his words reached not his brutalized ears, "however, as if with any active spell–disabling the caster's focus usually works." 

Laying there, he looked with his blurry, shaking gaze onwards–praying he didn't see her. 

Though his prayers were shortly whisked away as just outside the perimeter of the now disappeared barrier, the golden-haired woman stood there in tears, with bloodied fists as she seemed to have been trying to get inside the barrier. 

"Ge…true…"

He wanted to scream to her, tell her to run, scold her–but all he could do was weakly utter her name. 

"Looks like we got lucky," Renata grinned, "the princess couldn't abandon her dog."

"It seems fate has sided with us on this day," Ark smiled. 

Run, he repeated in his mind. 

All he could do was watch as the two, seemingly unbeatable villains marched towards the grief-stricken knight, who was still set on saving him. 

–Suddenly, without warning, the clouds spiraled, coalescing into a single point before parting unnaturally, as if giving way for something to befall the world. 

They all looked up in unison as something, moving so fast as it was nothing more than a passing blur, crashed down onto the world, landing on the very road they stood on. 

"When the "Age of Gods" came to an end with the efforts of the founding hero of Mastorn, Elias, the world's balance was forever shifted. Rather than being decided on the whims and might of the gods, decisions were forged by human ingenuity and strength.

However–that balance was once more altered, with the birth of one man. 

The moment he was brought into the world, it was forever changed; Aelius Van Eliades…the man who embodied the "Age of Gods", the one who carries their will into the age of man.

He, alone, dictates the course of history."