"Great....they just can't stay out of trouble for one day, can they?" The nephilim emperor says with a slight irritation to his voice.
In an ethereal rush of speed, the buildings of the bazaar breeze by Danyael. He stops only a few feet of what would be a squad of apothecaries tending to a young woman.
As the tall nephilim approaches, he couldn't help but notice a distinct similarity to a particular someone that he could not completely remember.
"Where have i seen that face? Eh...probably nothing..."Walking up to the group, he simply looks down at the young woman. With a harsh, yet calm stoicness to his voice, he addresses the apothecaries, while keeping contact with the girl's eyes. "I suggest you return to the command center. More than likely a battle not too far from this position presents a threat to your beloved strike team..."
With that said and done, he walks through them, not bothering to push anyone out of the way. he walks by as if he doesn't see the medics at all.
After he was completely through, he vanishes once more in an eruption of great speed as he rushes through, locking onto the flaring power that flushed throughout the vicinity. "The fag is more troublesome than he is violent..." he snarls under his breath, reappearing atop one of the building tops, looking down at the impending battle.
~~~~~~~~~~ Meanwhile in the battle~~~~~~~~~~
A dark, hooded figure walks from afar towards the chaos that brews amongst the companions. he was no doubt of Everworld culture as his recognizable cloak and crest could evidently be seen. His 6'1'', well sculpted body could be seen through the cloak as the fabric flaps from the slow winds that wrap the area.
"Didn't like him before....definately don't like him now..." the figure says as he soon comes within three yards of the fighting. Stopping in a militaristic halt, he stands, glaring at the sidhe in his possessed rampage. "And to think that scum like you is king of one of the Paradise afterlifes....Such bullshit..."
Slowly lifting his hand, a black orb of obsidian fire circles above his palm. His eyes gleam a deep white, empowering the ball even more than before. "You won't get any farther than this, Serumen...." he says with disgust.
And with a forceful thrust of nephilimic strength, he thrusts the sphere into the gorund with a resounding
'WHOOM!!'A surging sensation pulsates across the ground, rushing passed the warriors from under the ground. Only a bright red streak could be seen to identify thew attack. Atleast 4 yards infront of the warriors, the gleaming streak from under the ground, erupts into a massive wall of amethyst and magma. The wall not only grew in width, but more so in height.
And because this man that summoed the wall was nephilim, the wall was more unique than it seemed: the wall would, infact, grow on its own. All across the surface of the wall were oddly shapped domes of brilliant green. In each of the many domes swirled a bright white fire. Some sort of significance, no less.
"And now that, that was taken care of...." he says as he snaps his hand shut, allowing the black flame to cradle up and down his arm.
He then clasps his hands around each other and bends to one knee. A small swirling effect arises from around him, forming opaque blades of wind that whirled around him in an almost random pattern. With a push of inner strength, he unleashes the blades of wind, the very attack cutting up the ground around it on it's approach towards Fei.
Immediately after the attack was made, the figure whips his hands behind his back, two massive balls of black fire manifesting over his palms. "Watch the mice run." he says as he launches to the two balls into the whirling dome of wind, making it appear to be a spinning black sphere of raging fire.
Spinning blades of wind and Omingenically charged fire mixed was never a good combination.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~High above~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Danyael let out a sigh and whipped off his cloak and jacket. He hadn't fought any of his companions before. And he needed to vent a little bit of frustration on someone deserving of such. The sidhe would do just fine.
As he unsheathes the Yamato and twirl it from side to side, the blade begins to elongate. The air about the blade begins to dance with a massive alteration, and it becomes wreathed in a cold fusion blue flame. As this motion continues, a white vein chases the sword in a laidback delay, causing the over all mass of the Yamato to triple in proportions. Resulting from another whip-like snap of Danyaels wrists, a rupturing lance of brilliant blue lightning vaults towards Feis position with little remorse.
As he nears Fei, the ground beneath him rips and shatters away, leaving a long deepened line under him. Once within range, he whisks the sword, wheeling through the air, into the Sidhe with enough force to practically cleave anyone in half. A resounding boom flurries through the air as a result of the slash. A trail of white lightning follows after Danyaels strike, brining with it enough force to bring down the toughest steel.
But there was more to this strike than what was being revealed. The strike was also a vacuum.
As he glided through with the attack, thoughts lingered on Soul. Why did he not unsheathe blooddrinker and use his forces to attack Fei? What made the sidhe so special and everyone else just cannon fodder? Did he think of such cautiousness when he killed Gale? Or when he betrayed and attacked the nephilim in battle? What other exceptions were there? The dark swordsman got more irritating to look at by the second.
"Where's Aileron, Reaver? We can't stall this woma-- err...man, for long..." his voice slowly sinking into Soul's mind.
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"Destined to rule the worlds....Born to destroy them..." -- Apocrypha of Valince
"The only thing i treasure is Speed...And i keep running.." -- Alexander the Great King