Run
Long before they’d arrive, Aatrox had felt their presence. The Darkin Blade’s core blazed faintly in excitement. Finally, since uncounted centuries, his first potential hosts were near.
Aatrox whispered in the first one’s mind, gently tailoring the fugitive’s path through the ruins’ maze. Thus soon, the man had found himself in a dead end, and from what echoed through the cold marble walls, his chasers did not yet loose his tracks. He froze. They were going to catch him. No more tricks, no more running or hiding. This was it...
“Gael.”
The man’s heart skipped a beat.
“Why had you descended, angel? What are you running from?”
His eyes stopped blinking. His breath, slow and heavy. He frantically turned from right to left. “Where are you?! Who are you?!”
“Turn around and witness, Gael. I am everything you need right now.”
The man’s gaze wondered, then met a three-edged blade of unearthly material. It’s weak blaze was hipnotic to behold, and as he watched and crept closer, the alien voice in his head become stronger.
“Why do you fear them?”
Gael’s mouth moved, but it barely made any sound. “They... they will kill me.” He said in a mix of shock and awe.
“And will you let them?”
“What could I do? I have no weapon and there’s five of them...”
“Yes, I feel their presence.”
“You feel-”
“Gael! Would you fight if you had a chance?”
“Of course!”
The blade seemed to move. Gael’s gaze was completely trapped by it.
“Then take me in hand.”
The angel hesitantly reached out, but as his five chasers appeared, he grabbed onto the hilt, and all in the crumbled hall were terrified. As soon as contact was made, vile crimson energies ran through Gael’s body, and immediately transformed his arm, fusing flesh and armor together. In that moment, Gael’s mind was linked with the Blade’s, and he witnessed an eternety of glorified carnage and bloodbath. Wars that painted rivers red, frays that left more corpses on the ground than black birds in the sky, the end of days seemed coming in each single moment. And yet, the dread it painted had mixed with the rageful joy this darkin felt. Ages of destruction ran Gael’s mind through, but time seemed not to pass. As he snapped out of it, his foes were still at distance.
The man’s breaths were hectic. Then, Aatrox spoke again, now as if more awakened than before.
“Such potential in you.”
The five angelic soldiers charged.
“All the pain and grief you have. Embrace it. Let if fuel a furnace of rage.”
Their captain attacked, and Gael parried with ease. They were shouting at him, but he didn’t hear a word. Instead, Aatrox whispers rooted.
“I saw it all. Your status. Your friends. All taken from you.”
Gael retaliated. The three-edged blade was surprisingly effective, each strike set a foe out of balance.
“Then your wife.”
His swings and thrusts forced the five to step back again and again. Their shields were filled with more and more scars, it was hard to withstand Gael’s assault, even though they were better trained and more experienced.
“And then your sons.”
With a war cry, Gael’s next strike cut through the captain’s shield and armor like it was bare flesh. The soldiers’ leader fell in two parts, and all the blood defied reason, as it flew into the jagged blade only.
Dreaded, the rest turned tail and ran, but Aatrox swung himself, and sent forth a blood-red wave of cruel magic. It toppled the four angels and scorched their wings. Gael followed up and kept one down with his feet.
Before he’d say it, Aatrox answered his thought.
“Yes, we can!”
Gael the placed the blade’s sting at the other’s nape and thrusted.
“Now, you run!”