Perfect Soul

Chapter 10:

“It has been a while since I’ve used purely physical tactics in combat…so I will indulge myself against you.” Zerinia said with a cold look on her face, a calculating look that hid a desire for blood.

Oriath smirked, raising his shield and large axe. “Don’t mind if I do! Die, bloodsucker!” He screamed, running forward while yelling his lungs out, not considering the creature before him to be anything more than basic fodder, especially if she’s a magic user that’s only now using her bare hands.

“No, Oriath, wait!” Alasarn demanded, holding his arm out to stop him, to warn him at the very least, the words did nothing more than fall on deaf ears, too focused on attacking the enemy before him.

“Darn it, Oriath…Warrior Vessel!” Torthor yelled, casting a buffing spell onto his teammate to buff his physical capabilities, so at least he could hopefully hold them off while the rest of them came up with a plan to take this enemy on.

“Take steel, beast!” Oriath roared, swinging the axe down towards Zerinia’s collarbone. As it got close however, something stopped it, a firm material holding the metal, preventing him from harming the vampire in front of him. Looking over, he was met with her hand, holding the sharp end of his weapon in her delicate and unharmed hand.

Quickly after, she pulled it out of his own hand with enough force to cause him to stumble back a few feet. Zerinia looked down at his weapon, analysing it to how good it really was, it seemed good for a lower lifeform, but for a being comparable to Ravenscroft, it was nothing more than a worthless toy.

“Hmm…how quaint.” She said almost sarcastically, throwing the weapon to the side with one hand before looking back at the Tank. “But you’re going to have to do much better if you’re planning on making me try.”

That sentence alone should’ve been a warning, a hint even to be more careful. However, unarmed and desperate, he ran forward with his shield raised up, planning on ramming into her with all his physical might.

“ARGHHHHHHHHH-!!” He cried out, hoping the sound or desperation was hidden in his movements or voice, each step sounded like thunder in the night sky, that could have easily intimidate anyone who heard the sound.

Then, he stopped, just like his axe had just earlier. A sharp pain in his chest seared through it, like something had driven itself deep into his body. Looking down once more, he saw the vampires hand had smashed through his shield like paper and into his chest.

Soon after, she quickly pulled her hand out, something in it now, a small red object that was clearly still beating, a part of a much larger machine that didn’t realise that it had been removed and kept working just as usual.

“My heart…” Oriath said in a strained tone, not scared or angry or sad. Just acknowledging a fact he was now confronted with, as much as he didn’t like it to be true. “…Darn it…” He whispered, finally falling onto his back, now nothing more than a lifeless shell of the warrior he used to be.

“Oriath…darn you, beast of blood!” Torthor yelled with an angry expression, raising both his hands and yelling. “Holy Bea-“

As he was finishing, Zerinia raised her own hand at him, her fingers like claws as it shook slightly. “Boiling Blood…” She said calmly with a look of disgust in her face.

“ARGHHH!! ARGHHH-!! ARGHHHHHHH!! HELP ME!!” Torthor screamed with a terrified and agonised tone and expression, clawing at his body as he continued to scream his lungs out. His body getting hotter and hotter to dangerous levels.

“Damn, I CAN’T DO ANYTHING!! CYCERA, DO SOMETHING!!” Alasarn demanded, pleaded even as he looked to his last teammate. His expression full of panic and terror.

“I’M TRYING, BUT IT’S NOT WORKING!!” She yelled back, attempting to channel holy energy into his body, hoping to severe the connection between Zerinia and Torthor’s body, failing miserably due to completely failing to understand as to what she was doing to him and how she was doing it.

KA-SPLOOSH

The sound was deafening, Torthor’s body erupted into small lumps of flesh with bone and clothing stained crimson red, lost amongst scattered pieces of what used to be his body, everywhere in across the floor, while not quite reaching the walls or ceiling, but definitely reaching his friends standing right by him.

Cycera could only manage deep and terrified breaths, looking down at her shaking hands with eyes like saucers. This wasn’t supposed to happen, these turn of events were never meant to occur, not like this. “Is this…the one…who killed…General…Selark and…his men?”

Before Alasarn could respond, a hand wrapped around his neck, crushing his windpipe before lifting him into the air, the grip as tough as iron and soft as a flower. Zerinia then spoke in a quiet and calm tone, one that completely contrasted her words.

“I am so hungry…every day, I have the honour of feeding on the most exquisite meals anyone could have the pleasure of tasting, and yet…I am left starving. I know what I need and yet I have done my best to avoid indulging myself in what I really need…even after all this time, I am pretending to be a human, surrounded by monsters who keep pushing me forward…why am I still holding onto this part of myself, after all this time?” She asked, the question as genuine as it was rhetorical. Leaving Alasarn nothing but confused what his aggressor was going on about.

“Take this to your grave…” She said, snapping his neck and a sickening crushing sound, leaving on Cycera. Before raising the heart into the air, right above her face as she looked up to it, opening her mouth and crushing the organ, allowing the blood to simply fall into her mouth like a waterfall.