The Requiem Of An Empress 6 Mien: 毘沙門天 「Bishamonten」

Khamael Percival attempted to swing down his sword in order to cut the demon that blocked his path. However, the creature easily caught the weapon in between its claws, which spanned up to almost half a meter. He forcefully pulled out his sword from the enemy's grip, but as he did, the cracks on the steel finally branched out along the full length of the blade. This concluded in the steel frame crumbling down like shards of gla.s.s.

'Dirty motherfuc-!'

The knight thrust what remained of his sword towards the demon's supposed mug, and using his other hand, punched the cuboidal demon core, located smack dab in the midriff of its malformed body. The beast exploded, bits of its flesh splattering all over Khamael. The fragments of the dirt brown crystal embedded themselves on the man's fist, though he could care less about taking them out.

Demons and monsters vary in appearance, their anatomy vastly different than that of humans and animals found in this world. One cannot completely describe these subjects' features, for some can manifest a person's greatest fear or desire, or they basically look mangled and revolting. What obstructs monsters from qualifying as demons is their lack of a life core.

'F*ckin' disgusting.'

Khamael threw the remnant of his sword, eventually resorting to melee. Every time his fists make contact, the opponents were either sent flying or wrecked into pieces. Nevertheless, continuing in this manner would prove to be lethal.

A deep gash cutting diagonally through his ravishing face; several lacerations littering his body that were gushing with blood; second-degree burns covering the skin from the right foot going up the torso; the countless jagged objects, such as talons and branches, piercing his back; these were some of the injuries he was enduring;

The fight was a full course bloodbath.

'I can't even cast any spell because of this d.a.m.n curse!'

In addition to the physical wounds, Khamael was cursed by a hidden attacker. The curse rendered every single one of his enhancements inoperable. It also prevented him from gathering mana, equating to the inability to use spells. The situation was slowly eating away his sanity. With all of his abilities sealed, the knight felt like he was naked in the centre of a blizzard.

Even though confident with his brawling capability, Khamael recognized that demons are not the type of enemies that you can kill per just brute force, especially during an encounter with a sizable herd. The sole thought that impa.s.sions the man to strive for his life was his older brother. He peered at the place where he last saw his sibling battling. Withal, merely hostiles occupied the spot.

Khamael tried to search for his brother amidst the ongoing chaos. Regrettably, his eyes generally fell upon demon after demon, monster after monster.

'Don't tell me-!', he panicked, shaken by the thought that he'd lost his brother.

A Guenon cognate monster swiftly pounced on his head, climbing through the sticks impaled on his rear. The knight winced in the excruciating pain of his organs being further harpooned. He stumbled on his feet. Still, he managed to catch the slender arms of the monster and slam it on the ground.

'No! Stop thinking sh*t. My brother is a lot stronger than me. He can beat those t.u.r.ds.'

"My Lord, where are you?! Answer me!"

It is already considered a miracle that he could verbalize, let alone stay awake.

The enemies were ferals who are not merciful enough to not take advantage of a vulnerable human. They refused to halt in mobbing a solitary, damaged being. And at this point, Khamael disregarded all of the consideration he kept for himself. His vigour will return if he ascertained the safety of his sibling.

"My Lor- Ack!"

His balance wavered when a demon pierced a hole on his left shin, but that did not hinder him from kicking the abhorrence's core that was exposed. A struggle of strength ensued. Khamael sought to shove the golem of a hateful slob that neared him. Contrary to his expectations, the demon didn't budge an inch. The creature simply stared at him naughtily, with its transparent orbs for eyes.

'I'm going to f*ckin' gouge those b.a.l.l.s out, wait and see.'

Suddenly, the slit for a gob, dripping with liquid resembling pus, turned into a grin. It lifted its head and banged it on Khamael's forehead. This caused the knight's body to smash the sandy floor. After an arduous survival, at last, the young lad was starting to lose consciousness.

Khamael Percival revolved his world around his brother, who did the same for him. They were each other's only family. He loves and respects his brother, who never floundered no matter how difficult life tested them. Their childhood was spent escaping the surveillance of slave traders, travelling from city to city. Unaccompanied by anyone, his older brother protected him. Despite him habitually stirring up trouble, his brother rarely complained and unconditionally adhered to safeguard him from the hardships of living.

'Brother, where are you?'

With his mental exhaustion at its peak, Khamael cannot discern the happenings around him anymore. He forgot that he made a promise to see this incident through as an honourable knight of the Empire. His main reason was to reestablish the trust of his brother whose heart grew cold once as they got older.

'Where are you? Are you alright?'

The glints swimming in his eyes gradually lost their l.u.s.tre.

'Please, answer me. This time, I'll protect you...'

He coughed up blood one last occasion prior to releasing his final string of consciousness.

"... Evlan.", Khamael managed to call out the name of his brother before his breathing ceased.

Little did Khamael know, the opponents stopped attacking the second he collapsed, and a lonely figure stepped out from the woods.

********************************

"Sarakiel, I hope you will join me for a drink as soon as you return."

The knight was bewildered of the invitation since they both knew the outcome of this venture. He settled on humouring the Emperor considering there's no harm in doing so.

"I do not fancy alcoholic beverages, Your Majesty."

"How disappointing."

"Though I prefer tea."

"I'll brew it for you."

The Emperor laid his hands on Sarakiel's shoulders and gripped it tightly.

"That is why, make sure to come back with the Percival brothers."

Sarakiel felt the pressure through the heat of the Emperor's touch. It was a novel weight to bear. If he could guarantee the efficacy of this strategy, then their ability to fend off unwelcomed antipathies from dominating this world would achieve new heights.

'Guess there's no helping it.', the knight thought, rea.s.serting his resolution.

"I like black tea, Your Majesty. Do not put sugar cubes, please."

The Emperor lowered his hands, a smile plastered on his visage.

"Black tea it is. Get going you b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"With pleasure, Your Majesty.", Sarakiel uttered as he knelt on one knee in a servile manner.

Duke Sarakiel Helian stood up and marched in the direction of a one-dimensional portal that appeared in the middle of the audience room. The rectangular pa.s.sage looked similar to a canva.s.s painted with the picture of a grey sky signifying an impending rainstorm.

Void of faltering, the knight entered the gate.

From the cushy warmth of the palace's interior to the bone-chilling coldness of the island, the significant temperature change startled the man. In addition to that, he was "hailed" by the perpetual stoic face of his superior. Sarakiel gave a salute and extended his greetings straightway.

"I address the knight commander, Lord Mikhail Percival. I grant you my grat.i.tude for opening up the gate."

Mikhail bowed his head as a sign of recognition. Sarakiel proceeded to observe his surroundings, and was baffled that there were no a.s.sailants in sight. Knowing that his captain was quite tight-lipped, he initiated their conversation with a query.

"I previously thought that you're surrounded, my Lord; that doesn't seem to be the case. How did you find this hideout?"

"Listen to me, Sarakiel."

Shortly, an odd wind pa.s.sed the s.p.a.ce they were dwelling on. Sarakiel gazed at the eyes of Mikhail.

'Is this fear? Is Lord Mikhail afraid? I need to know about what's happening.'- It was an unusual emotion for the 1st seat holder of the Rounds to possess. That is why Sarakiel was surprised.

"Do speak, my Lord."

Mikhail heaved a sigh, exhaustion evident in his weary mien.

"We are inside the distortion barrier that I erected once I got rid of all the enemies in the area. However, I cannot sustain its activation any longer. Khamael is holding off on his own down the southern sh.o.r.e. To think-- d.a.m.n it!"- Mikhail then pounded the tree trunk within his arm's span, wrath exuding in his aura.

"To think?", Sarakiel inquired, not the least perturbed of Mikhail's show of rage, since time and bravery is of the essence in this operation

"A demon n.o.ble, another demon n.o.ble has appeared. There are two of them. "

********************************

'What spell is that?'

Lauviah was weirdly skeptical of the prayer that the maids enunciated.

'A prayer? That might be an ancient spell rather than a prayer. Some words are familiar. I think I've read them from a grimoire somewhere. I'll go and find it.'

"Can you please repeat the pa.s.sage for me?", the Countess requested to the twins, in the event that she remembered a few terms mistakenly.

The maids glimpsed at the expression of each other. It's a way for them to grasp one's opinion.

"We forgot."

"Yes, we forgot."

"But-" Lauviah wanted to persuade them, but she was interrupted.

"Tara doesn't want to, my head hurts!"

"Don't bully Tara! Sura is mad!"

Countess Lukan looked at the fuming maids and figured they won't yield. She can't take these two maids seriously.

'I bet they're unable to take care of the Empress' needs because they're too childish.', she thought to herself of the first impression she had on them.

"Alright, I won't pester you about it anymore. Alternatively, please do me one favour."

Tara and Sura agreed, nodding their heads in response.

"Can you solicit a bit of time from the Empress? It won't exceed an hour, I swear."

Simultaneously, the two handmaidens tilted their head to the side, pondering on the service.

"Hmm."

"Hmm."

The female knights patiently awaited their decision. After all, they cannot proceed with anything if the apology doesn't transpire.

"Alright, We'll do it."

"We will."

It's the answer that Lauviah desired to hear. Hence, she was glad.

"Really? Thank you very much!"

Tara and Sura turned their backs on the visitors and crossed the foyer. They succeedingly tramped on the central staircase to reach the second floor. When they landed at the top, the two immediately pivoted their feet to navigate the right corridor. They were on their way to the chamber at the end of the hallway. The sound of creaking played every step they made.

Upon pulling in, the maids stalled a foot away from the entrance, knocking twice on the wooden door. There was no answer. They knocked yet again, still, no counterreaction.

"Strange, why is the Empress unresponsive? Did she not hear our knocks?"

"Come to think of it, I can't make out the Empress' voice. Wasn't she praying?"

"That doesn't make sense. Is she asleep?"

"She hasn't drank her medicine. She shouldn't sleep."

"Let's look inside."

"I agree."

Tara knocked on the door one last time to let their Master be aware that they were coming in.

"Your Highness, excuse us for intruding."

"Excuse us."

Sura rotated the k.n.o.b and drove the door open. The hinge produced a resonation of a hushed screech.

"Your Highness?"

"We are h- What?"

The maids were perplexed. Instead of seeing the Empress settled in her chamber, the chilly breeze that lingered inside the empty bedroom embraced them.