As Fafnir’s bellow shook the sky, a slumbering figure started to arise. Blue was the colour of his armoured hide. Different from Avance, but less so from Mourn, such was the look of him. His face was hidden, buried behind his drakish hide. He opened his eyes, the dark cave shook, lit by only the dimmest of light. The man stood up, his bones and muscles creaked and cracked, it had been a long time since he’d made any kind of move. He raised his hand to press upon his very stiff shoulders. Blood red eyes beheld the mouth of the cave, from whence came that oh so dim light. He heard Fafnir’s bellows loud as if they were right beside his ear.
“Time to move,” he said, stepping forth. From the darkness to his back, a large figure followed. Tail first, then it stood up. The beast’s neck was longer than a boa, its eyes opened, also a bloody crimson red. Blue scales emerged from the shadows, a dark figure stomped into the light, its wings opened wide, ready to take flight.
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Cains last few knights peered down upon the earth with unease in their eyes. There below lay the black dragon, Fafnir, whose wings opened wide with a sky shattering burst. Dust and dirt scattered, forming a cloud so heavy it forced Venus’ survivors back into their phalanx just to avoid being blown away by it. The beast howled, a loud and chaotic echo erupted into the world from its injured body. The knights did not hesitate, they had no time to think. Their bodies leapt forward, blades in hand. None of them were cowards, they did not fear death, they embraced it. They knew very well that they couldn’t hope to win, even now Fafnir would’ve scoffed at their pitiful struggling if it was in the mood to. The beast raised wide its maw with a second roar as burning blue flames erupted to turn the sky into an ocean of fire.
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Within the phalanx, Rapture stared wide eyed at the scene, the black dragon, the flames, and the man who stood upon the back of the beast itself. Beside him, Lucretia stared upon his visage, her expression was hard to read. Just then, at that moment, Alexander opened wide his eyes in horror. The people gathered here knew by now the significance of this man’s senses, unfortunately however far too many of them were distracted by the awe inspiring sight of that pitch black dragon, far too many were deafened by its roar. He reached out and seized the hem of Rusalka’s dress, tugging at it to draw her gaze. He succeeded, she faced him, and many people followed her gaze. His stern, worried look, put a chill in their spines.
Aegis reinforced his shield, Mortuus reinforced his healing aura. Cerus readied her threads, unsure of what exactly was coming to endanger them. Finally, they huddled together. The Gold Class pressed their hands to the shoulders of the Silver Class, who in turn did so to the Bronze Class at the edge of the phalanx. Ash was shared between them all, as was the power of Advanced Manifestation sent back, all to reinforce Aegis and Mortuus’ efforts. Then it came, the moment of reckoning. The sky turned half blue and half crimson.
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The Knights of Cain paused their feet in the sky as a second, even more vibrant, roar pierced their eardrums from behind. They turned back, gazed upon a second sea of now crimson flames, and a cold sweat embraced them.
“You?” One amongst them said in an almost broken voice. He knew their attacker, they all did, in fact. When they came to Muspelheim, they needed a means of transportation that could endure the trek across the sea. Nidhogg provided, even though their contempt for each other was mutual. Why wouldn’t they? Who could object to having one enemy of yours cripple or kill another enemy? Thus they had not expected to see this man here, they had not expected him to stab them in the back. Uriel figured it out, of course, but how could the rank and file notice? And so the two seas of fiery death swiftly consumed them, the knights turned instantly to dust, pulverised before they were even burned. Their bodies turned to nothing long before they hit the ground.
Avance stumbled forward, he looked upon the sea of crimson fire with an exhausted and ill complexion, then he turned, he turned to face the masses of Venus, the survivors, whose barrier endured the onslaught of crimson flames. That said all they were enduring was the edge of the blaze and even that was proving to be far more than they could handle in their current condition.
He stomped down on the dragon’s head. That, to Fafnir, was a tiny sensation, but it was enough to get the beast’s attention. The blue flames turned as the creature’s maw aimed to protect the phalanx. Through this, the phalanx was better protected, but the crimson sea of flames bore down upon Avance and Fafnir twice as hard. Amid this, threads of Ash leapt forth into the crimson blaze. They leapt forth a hundred at a time, yet for every three that survived to connect to the sea of fire ninety seven were blown to pieces. Eventually, when their number was sufficient, the threads bore a hole into the flames.
Avance opened wide his eyes, it seemed now that they could hold on. Fafnir grunted, while its true that they’d needed his help to buy time, he felt frustrated when his master had him take so much damage to protect them. What did he care if their barrier failed before Cerus’ threads could protect them? Why did he care a whit? Thus the dragon, without even being told, turned his blazing breath back towards the sea of fire.
Avance shared the dragon’s frustration. He felt like crap, he just wanted this damn day to be over already. Thus he stepped forth, he embraced the sapphire embers of Fafnir’s fire and then emerged clad head to toe in his pitch black scaly armour. He swung his sword, which was bathed in fire, and cut a swath into the crimson sea of fire. There stood a shadow within the sea of fire, a giant shadow charging forward. The flame sea parted as a gargantuan arm erupted through the wall of fire and seized Fafnir’s throat.
Avance leapt forth, he peered into the fading blaze as the sapphire dragon slammed the black dragon down into the soil with all its might. Upon the sapphire dragon’s back he beheld a man. That man’s flesh was clad from head to toe in azure blue. Their armour was mirrored, both born from a dragon’s likeness. The scarlet flames finally subsided as that figure walked forward from within the blaze. Behind him, the mighty blue dragon that looked more lean and serpentine than Fafnir snapped its maw towards the pinned black dragon. The tired Avance stood up and at the ready, yet he could only complain when he recognised his enemy.
“Nidhogg’s Vanguard, Ahzi Dahaka.”
