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55.66% Unknown Devil (dropped) / Chapter 59: Surprising Twist

Bab 59: Surprising Twist

The figure stepped forward, and the light dimmed. Vidan Sutulin, the Crimson Merchant, emerged from the shadows, his crimson eyes gleaming with a sadistic satisfaction. His cloak billowed out behind him like a river of blood.

"I thought I'd give you some support." He said with a hint of mockery towards Enigma.

The Crimson Merchant's entrance brought a new level of tension to the battle. His eyes, like twin pools of molten lava, bore into Sir Rowan's soul. The knight staggered backward, his armor smoking where the beam of energy had struck him. His hand went to the wound, and when it came away, it was smeared with a mixture of crimson and silver light.

"What about Lord Charles? Did you deal with him?" Enigma asked him with a hint of doubt.

"He's... dealt with," Vidan Sutulin replied with a flick of his wrist, as if the fate of Helgarde's ruler was nothing more than an afterthought.

With a snarl, Sir Rowan forced himself upright, his silver eyes gleaming with defiance amidst the pain. He knew he was outmatched, but the knight's honor would not allow him to fall without a fight. He lunged at Enigma, his sword a blur of silver in the crimson moonlight.

But it was not to be. Enigma stepped aside, his cloak fluttering around him like a living shadow. The dark knight's whip of darkness lashed out again, wrapping around Sir Rowan's throat. He tightened the noose, the tendrils digging into flesh as the knight choked and struggled. Meanwhile, the Vidan Sutulin raised his hand, and a swarm of crimson butterflies erupted from his palm, their wings fluttering in a mesmerizing pattern.

The butterflies swirled around Sir Rowan, their crimson hue casting a gory light over his desperate features. As they touched his skin, the butterflies transformed into tiny needles that pierced his flesh, releasing a toxin that made him stumble and weaken. The knight's silver eyes grew dull, his movements sluggish as the poison began to take hold.

Enigma stepped closer, his shadowy whip still tight around the knight's neck. "Your end is near," he whispered, his voice a symphony of malice. Sir Rowan's sword arm fell to his side, the weapon dropping from his grasp with a clatter that echoed through the alley like a death knell.

Vidan Sutulin chuckled darkly, and with a flourish of his hand, the crimson light grew stronger. The butterflies around Sir Rowan swirled into a tornado of sharpened wings and needle-like antennae, tearing into the knight's armor and flesh with a ferocity that seemed to defy the very laws of physics. The crimson light grew so intense it was almost tangible, painting the walls of the alley in a garish, bloody hue.

Sir Rowan's struggles grew weaker, his once proud form now a twitching, agonized mess of shredded armor and blood. His eyes searched the sky for salvation, but found only the mocking grin of the crimson moon. His breath grew ragged as Enigma's whip tightened, the shadows squeezing the very life from his body.

His vision blurred, and his legs gave out beneath him, the crimson light pulsing with every beat of his fading heart. With a final, desperate effort, he reached for his sword, his trembling hand grasping the hilt.

But it was too late.

Sir Rowan's hand closed around the hilt of his sword, but it was a gesture of futility rather than valor. His eyes, once gleaming with the light of a thousand battles, were now dimming, the flame of life fading to embers. With a final, gurgling breath, the knight's body went limp, the sword slipping from his grasp to clatter against the stained cobblestones. The crimson storm of butterflies dissipated into the night, their work done.

Vidan Sutulin strode forward, his boots echoing through the silent alley. He stepped over the lifeless form of Sir Rowan, his crimson eyes meeting Enigma's cold gaze. "The city officially belongs to us," he declared, his voice a dark promise.

But the victory was not to be enjoyed unchallenged. The clamor of distant battle grew louder. Enigma's smile grew wider. "Looks like a few desperate 'heroes' are still alive," he said, gesturing towards the chaos that was once the heart of Helgarde.

Suddenly, the air grew cold. The shadows around them seemed to shiver and pull away. Enigma felt a tremor of unease ripple through him. Something was wrong. The very fabric of the night felt... off. His smirk faltered, and he turned to Sutulin, whose grin had also frozen.

Their gazes shot upwards, and they saw several dark silhouettes descending upon them from the rooftops. The moon's crimson light glinted off of sharpened steel and feral eyes. It was the Lycan cult, their fur mottled with the shadows of the night, moving with a grace that belied their brutish forms.

„What the hell are they doing here?" Enigma asked himself, surprised.

The Lycan cultists leaped into the alley, their animalistic snarls piercing the tense silence. Vidan's grip on his power faltered, allowing the shadows to retreat back into their natural state. The sudden shift in the balance of power was palpable, the air thickening with tension as the beasts approached.

....

The Baron retreated to his chamber, his heavy boots echoed through the corridor. The air was thick with the scent of victory, tinged with the metallic tang of blood that had been spilled in the city's streets. The candles flickered as if in anticipation of the dark revelry that was to come.

In the chamber, the Baron's armor lay in a discarded heap, the metal plates scraping the floor like the final breaths of his enemies. His cape pooled around him as he sank into the plush velvet chair by the hearth, the fire casting flickering shadows on the walls, a silent ballet of his twisted triumphs. His eyes, like pockets of embers, searched the room, a testament to his unquenchable thirst for power and knowledge.

"The battle should be decided in the next few minutes... Until then, I'll give myself some rest. Switching twice with 'Hollow' has really drained my energy reserves."

The Baron spoke to no one in particular, his voice a low murmur that seemed to resonate with the very stones of the chamber. His hand reached into a compartment hidden in his armor, pulling out a silver flask. Unscrewing the cap, he took a deep swig, the amber liquid within sloshing around as if alive.

[Tap] [Tap] [Tap] [Tap]

The footsteps grew louder. The Baron's eyes narrowed, and he sat up straighter, the shadows playing across his face like a twisted masquerade mask. He didn't need to see who approached to know that it wasn't a friendly visit. The very air in the room grew colder, the warmth of the fire seeming to retreat before the presence that approached.

And then he was there, Lupin, the leader of the Lycan cult, his body was riddled with muscles. His eyes were a piercing yellow, the irises slitted like those of a predator, glinting with unbridled aggression. His hair was a wild, gray tangle, matted and greasy, reaching down to his broad, fur-covered shoulders. His features bore the unmistakable hallmarks of Lycan ancestry - a pronounced chin, pointed ears and a nose that was more snout than man. His garb was a tattered mess of red and black, stitched together with what looked like the sinews of his own kind.

"I finally have you on my own! Ohh...how long I've waited for this Virgil!" He growled with a hint of aggression.

The Baron's smile was cold as ice. "Lupin," he greeted with a nod, placing the flask back on the table with a deliberate calm. "Your timing is impeccable."

The Lycan leader's gaze swept over the room, his nostrils flaring as he took in the Baron's relaxed posture. "You do not seem surprised to see me, Virgil," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate with the very walls.

"Why should I be?" The Baron replied, his tone lazily arrogant. "Your kind has always been so predictable. Tell me, did you think you could challenge me?" He gestured to the door, his voice dripping with contempt. "Your pack is no match for what I have unleashed upon this city."

Lupin's eyes flashed, and his teeth bared in a snarl that was part human, part beast. "I've come for more than a challenge," he said, his voice low and menacing. "I've come for vengeance."

"Poor Lupin still hasn't overcome the past, it seems... Very well, so be it!" He mocked with a hint of contempt.

The Baron's eyes flared with crimson light, his fingertips crackling with dark energy as he stood. The room grew colder, the shadows thickening like a living shroud around him.

"Show me what you've got Lupin!"

....


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