My Summoning // By: Maro
Father led me down the Marble Gallery into The Requiem of the Gods.
Any demon, pure or.....otherwise, must learn any or all of the Enchantments of War, in this Cathedral. Which sits atop the very site where My Father and the Overlord had their first and Final Battle.
I could have learned to Enchant elsewhere. Perhaps even in one of the many filth-infested cities which humans live and breed and an abhorrible rate, but it would have been dwarfed severely in comparision to the sheer majesty of what The Pillar of Endowment had to offer.
I would not have accepted anything less.
I would soon learn however, that learning from the best meant absolute dedication.
Had I prepared myself for the worst, instead of thinking I had been ready for anything, it would have made this experience much less painful.
Not physically of course.
But pride can throb with as much agony (or more, in my case) as any festering wound.
Father stayed in the back. He said nothing as he took a seat among the spectators.
Had it been any other place, I would have reviled at the sight of the ongoing gawkers.
But I was wasting my time, and thiers, just standing here. I should have known better than to be set off by a bit of stage fright. That was stupid thing-- a Dante thing-- to do.
I can't think of him like that. He may be callous at times, but he's still...............Dante.
My only brother. The closest thing I have to a friend.
And he is to be respected. Unpredictable as he is, he could easily overtake me if not handled with caution.....like yesterday.
How could I have been so careless?
I can still feel where he hit me in the chest. Maybe it was more of a spiritual wound than anything else.
They didn't know my methods of attack. My challenge would be.....intermidiate at the most.
And if something unbeatable did come out.....
I would beat it.
Stepping into the center of the Cathedral, I looked towards the oppisite doors, where I was told my opponent would arrive. I kept listening for footsteps behind me.
The corners of my eyes, adjusted to my perpheral vision, kept track of the slightest blur or shadow out of place.
I had all of my bases covered.
I had been peirced through the chest....from above.
Looks like I forgot about the stain glass window in the ceiling.
A mistake I will never make again.
I rolled to the side, breaking the blades of phantasmagoric ice, relying on my adrenaline alone to prevent frostbite.
The elegant, albeit hideous demon, was actually kind enough to let me get up without an attempt at my life.
Clever. I almost--like a fish to the lure-- allowed myself to surrender to my instinct.
Although it can save you, sometimes it can lead you straight into the Jaws of Hades.
This particular devil, was clad in lightwieght azure armor to insure grace as well as security within the heat of battle. It seemed to have a current of it's own flowing to an ever-changing design. At one moment, a thorn vine was formed along the right torso.
Not a bad look.
His face, scarred to the point of irrecognition, (a sure sign of experience in battle) was blank as he looked at me with a blank look from the dead tissue in his sockets...magically imbued sight obviously.
He looked human, except for silver scales growing along the left side of his face, with hair of shifting shades of gray, not unlike the stormclouds brewing in the view of the broken window above me.
He, like Dante, would have to be approached with caution.
I remember I would always intimidate Dante by merely walking up to him..... while he would run to me, with that look in his eyes praying I wouldn't lay him out too badly.
I smiled inwardly at the thought.
I must have my opponent do the same now.
My deadset expression focused, yet uncaring, straight into the sockets of the soon-to-be-dead demon.
Someting I learned......somewhat unsettlingly, from my father.
This was not about ego. This is merely readying thyself for death. And I am more than willing to take the plunge.
At the hands of this demon, it would be an honor.
The demon, sensing this, widened his sockets, almost mockingly.
I had enough. Summons is as good as dead.
I began to to walk towards him in a steady stride, making the point that I was in no particular hurry no kill him.
Perhaps he thought I had been in no particulay hurry to die, or that I was covering up an injury with what was possibly mistaken for a prideful gait.
Or maybe it was just another lure, because he moved towards me at a blinding speed, swords circling him in his wake.
I would have to remember that particular move.
I kept walking, knowing that he would not have attacked at that moment.
Now he knows who he's dealing with.
I stopped a few steps after that, making a quick analysis of any bodily injuries. There was none.
I stood there with my back turned to him..... a foolhardy stategy had it been made by anyone else.
I then turned finding, (surprise, surprise) no one there.
He would attack from the either side, the front, or the back.
But I remembered how he got me the first time around from the top.
Then it occurred to me.
It happened in two thirds of a second.....
For me however, it lasted for a glorius eternity.
The phantom blades sped up from the ground. Seeing as how I was unarmed, would need something to finish Summons off.
As the hilt form one of the blades ascended from the floor, I executed a leg sweep to move myself out of the way. I grabbed the handle, then, while still spinning my weapon as well as myself, I beheaded Summons after slicing at the cranium, separating the upper half of his brain from the lower half.
A rather reckless move, taught by my equally reckless brother.
The closest thing to a shadow of emotion flew by my father's face as he looked on, surprised.
I'll never forget that look.
Behind me, once again, Summons stood, staring, knowing the mistake he had commited.
His head came apart at three pieces.
I had added an extra spin to the sword I was holding just after the one across the neck, across his jawline.
A fragile, but more than capable weapon.
It, like it's former master, fell apart at my hands.
The absorbtion of his soul, bore pain rivaled only by the the defeat I had suffured yesterday, tore into me as thousands of summoned swords took their place, peircing my entire body.
As one would hit, the other would soon take it's place as my tormentor, my salvation.
Then they were gone. I nearly collasped. But knowing my audience, I stood, unflinching.
I walked out, one step closer to claiming the right to call myself a full-fledged demon.
My father and I came home. I stepped out of the flames used to teleport the both of us.
Before we left, he taught me how to aim the blades that would be my only weapon against The Hordes if they came.....when they came.
Dante walked up to me, spinning wooden sword in hand. "Let's duel."
I summoned my phantom blades, and aimed them directly at him. Father had just gone inside so I think he can look the other way this once.
Dante, comepletely flabbergasted, dropped his sword....... much to my delight.
© 2006 Maro