Chapter 5: Chapter 2: Regret

Darkness of deepness, despair clawing away at those who remain. Devils in the shadows, a heart in bondage from the horrifying dusk. The King being no more, and the mysterious assailant high in the wind. Those many losing their lives to the ravenous demons, some even becoming monsters themselves. The kingdom falling under the control of those lurking within the night, a never ending nightmare. Those who remain growing fearful, those trying to escape often meeting a brutal end by the fiends residing in the darkness. From deep in the shadows, the mysterious person looking upon the monsters roaming around, those beasts devouring the corpses of their victims. A bloody mess it is, but even more so than that, a living hell upon the world of the humans.

Has my greed truly caused all of this...?

A heart paining from the sight of this, a place no more than a nightmare inside of reality. That mysterious person looking to the sky, their sorrowful crimson eyes resting upon the descending feathers of darkness. Extending their hand from the shadows, grasping a feather within the palm of their hand. Those red eyes depressingly gazing upon it, malevolence emanating from the feather. Looking on, watching the feather slowly burning away within the palm of their hand. Folding their hand into a fist, feeling the feather losing form. Witnessing it degrading into dust, hanging their head low. 

All I wanted was...

Desires deep inside, a moment of weakness, a heart yearning to grasp what it cannot. No matter so, even if the chances are minuscule at best, there must be a way towards a brighter morrow. Extending their hand, opening it. The black dust blowing in the wind, ascending into the endless sky, fading into nothing. Closing their eyes for a moment, slowly inhaling and exhaling. Their vision soon opening, that person looking onward. Those sorrowful crimson eyes becoming more confident by the second, observing the activity ahead, seeing fiends roaming through the town, watching those monsters devouring the corpses of the dead.

That person walking out of the shadows, revealing her long flowing hair. Blonde and shining with health, wingless unlike the assailant who is causing such strife. A feathery helm upon her head, armor of gold, a crimson cape of nobility extending from the lower half of her back. On the lower half of her back resting a peculiar blade, a large weapon burning ancient symbols upon it. A sword appearing to be deteriorating with age, but very durable without a doubt. Floating high in the sky, looking down upon the land below is the fallen angel, a slight smile coming to her face.

"As expected...Cyra—" she looks at her right hand.

That fallen one closing her eyes for a moment, expecting no less of her rival. Even if she is considering Cyra a weakling, the death angel knowing well that the maiden's resolve burns with a relentless passion. Even if the young woman might not prove a threat, she can certainly be an annoyance. No matter the morrow, no matter the sorrow. That entity so far below pressing onward, grabbing hold of whatever faint hope there may be. A resolve evermore unwavering, almost frightening really, as if there might be a deeper reasoning far inside. 

"I want you to savor this moment...that in which you have lost shall never return, and once I have claimed what is rightfully my own, you shall be no more than a memory..." Some frustration coming to the face of the fallen angel.

That winged being turning, swinging out her right hand, the fallen one vanishing in an instant. Feathers burning in malevolence descending from above, illuminating the land below in a mist of blackness. Sorrow spreading torment in the gaze of many, those feathers bathing the area far and wide. Dreadful it may be, enemies around every corner. All of this for desires so far within, a truly frightening thing one's resolve can be.

Rose...you...I can't believe...

That maiden noticing the descending feathers, Cyra gazing upon it with such sorrowful eyes, watching those feathers burning away by the second. Slowly walking ahead, witnessing those feathers of malevolence showering the land. Sorrow far inside, the maiden almost losing sight of her situation. From high above, a bat with a massive eye and fangs locking onto the young woman. Screeching escaping its mouth, terrifying it is, that sound echoing throughout the area. That mysterious maiden looking onward, those fiends taking notice of her.

"Regret will have to wait." Her cold, daring eyes are upon them.

Fiends of mutation approaching, lizards, goblins, hellhounds, and even those that have once been human. Those ravenous fiends never having enough to sate their hunger, primitive they are, the stench of blood stirring them onward. Those monstrous eyes locking onto her, moving in towards their next target. The wind evermore unsettling, cold yet blissful one can say. Cyra standing upon her side, directing her blade at the approaching demons. Those eyes of hers expressing much confidence upon them. Even if she must stain her hands in more blood, then that is fine. The path of clearness, that will to continue on violently burning inside of her.

"You have no right to be on this world, as such, you will be purged." She calmly speaks.

Those words of hers igniting great rage within the monsters, fiends they may be, but words nonetheless of understanding. Those beasts rushing at her, their speed of intenseness. Lizards breathing fire, flames as fierce as the sun scorching the land. Her senses heightening, feeling malevolence all around. That maiden turning, immediately moving to her right, narrowly evading the harshness of the fire. Cyra slightly skidding, watching the flames setting ablaze the surrounding area. The young woman noticing a fatal flaw in her enemies formation, witnessing an opening, triangulating their pattern of assaults.

"The center..." She thinks.

That maiden slightly pulling back, those enemies rushing her once more, moving in a circular motioning. Flames of the beasts racing towards her, that young woman evading the fire, sliding around them. Cyra glancing to the sky, noticing a bat trailing her movements. A lizard rushing at the maiden, Cyra leaping high above the fiend, taking aim at the bat tracking her. The young woman ascending above it, rendering a fierce kick across the face of the monster. The impact sending the fiend crashing down at the center. Cyra revealing her blade in hand, the maiden descending upon it, stabbing right down into the eye of the monster. A force of energy immediately concentrating, violently erupting, shattering the area. 

The impact of the assault shredding the enemies all around her, screaming echoing through the night, blood painting the surroundings. Those harsh flames dispersing into nothing, a game of death this is one can say. The maiden standing from the ground, extending her blade, the blood of her victims filling the air. That young woman bringing her weapon closer into view, watching the blood of those foul beings dripping to the ground below. Yet another war, though this time, she is completely alone. Minuscule the chance may be, but nonetheless a faint light to hold onto.

Can I truly right the wrong I have committed...? Perhaps I am hypocritical...

A wrong eating away at the young woman, that heart paining by the moment. Even if it has been for a better purpose, that is simply an excuse. Cyra looking away for a moment, soon turning her attention to the path ahead. That maiden slowly inhaling and exhaling, walking onward, strife lingering deep inside of her. No matter the morrow, no matter the sorrow, one must continue onward in order to right the wrong they have done.

—The Past Revisited—

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—One Month Prior—

A realm in the highest of heavens, floating platforms standing in the sky, far above the world below. Chains seeming to connect the many pathways, far ahead resting the gateway into the Heavenly Realm. Not too far from the gate is the guardian herself, someone who will pass judgment on all those who comes across her. A frightening one she is, despite the illusion of her beauty. A being wearing the armor of the Nine Winged Seraph. Pure white wings spreading afar, radiating a mesmerizing light. Eyes crimson as the moon, that angel wielding a velvet staff with the shape of a crescent moon. Blades layering upon the top of it, the angel floating just above a platform. Looking down past the clouds, conflict deeply rising within her. 

Power...with the state of our home...power is what is needed. Is this...? Is this truly my limit...? Can I do no more...?

Desires deep inside, to gain what she is lacking. Even if her power is grand, there is still much she cannot do. To be able to reach her hand out, to take hold of the nigh impossible. Maybe, just maybe, those wishes far within can become a reality. That angel watching the clouds slowly floating along, frustration growing within her by the moment. Hope slowly fading, madness setting in. The gentle wind all around feeling ominous, dreadful feelings lingering.

I remember those earlier times. Where the gods kept balance between our worlds...but yet...yet there has been no word of them...what should I do...?

You told me something important...but what was it...?

Where are you...?

Events from the past appearing evermore unclear, a time where the gods has been supreme. However, those times being no more, almost as if they have come out of existence. Conflicting emotions clashing deep inside of her. A home that is on the brink of destruction, desires lingering far within. Limitations making itself into reality, such causing aggravation inside her, searching for any possible solution.

Lost Angel, you seem to be conflicted.

"Hades..." Disgust expressing within her voice.

That voice echoing through her mind, a deity reaching her all the way in such a realm. Her skin slightly crawling, even so, her resolve trying to hold strong. That angel looking around the area, searching for the Dark Lord, his voice ringing through her. Slightly scowling, some unease from her, unable in determining his location. The presence of the god feeling all around her, a truly frightening one he is. Even if he is not within her vision, it does not matter much. In the line of battle, one must be willing to work under any circumstances.

Hm hm, fear not. I am merely communicating telepathically.

"What do you want...?" her tone slightly threatening. 

A bit of a deal, what do you say?

An agreement of some sort, this being no doubt a trap. A deity reaching his voice to the high heavens, one that is residing in a world far from her own. No matter so, even if she is feeling much disgust, hearing him out will be of the better option. With the gods nowhere, and someone all too dear being away, the situation is becoming more grim. A most unsettling experience this is, but those desires inside of her yearning to come free. To be able to gain what she cannot, perhaps then there can be a brighter morrow.

"What deal?" she suspiciously questions, looking to the sky.

Let's just say, we will all get what we want heh heh.

"..."

—Present Time—

Hades...I know you are somewhere here as well. Though, can I...? Can I truly face him in this state...?

That event seeming like an eternity ago, a heart regretting even allowing the Dark Lord a voice. Trouble lingering deep within the maiden, that angel continuing deeper and deeper into the town. The sight of the castle clearly in view, that velvet moon hanging high in the sky. A nightmare it is, a great wrong in awareness within this nightmarish experience. Even so, maybe, just maybe, there can be hope. No matter the sorrow ahead, one must be willing to oppose what is reasoning.

Can I truly...right this wrong...?