Blood magic coiled around Aldric's arm like a living thing, burning cold and crimson on his skin. From that pulse of fury, a poleaxe erupted—dark blood forged metal , edges dripping faint red light, gleaming with menace. His grip closed, knuckles whitening.
Aldric's lips curled into a smile—not warmth, but the jagged, angry, and deeply unsettling grin of a predator ready to tear the world apart.
> "Let's not waste any time," he hissed, voice low, dripping with malice.
"I will mix… I will kill every one of you who dares charge at me."
Mana flared along his body, a visible storm of crimson light that pulsed with every heartbeat. The air around him trembled; the wet stone beneath his boots seemed to warp with anticipation.
The knights surged forward—steel arcs, the flash of blades, the low hum of holy mana—but Aldric did not flinch. He planted his boots firmly, spinning the poleaxe in a deadly arc.
A single swing cut through the front line, not just metal but pure blood magic ripping the air, leaving a streak of crimson that hissed as it shredded armor. Sparks erupted where holy steel met unholy force. The knights stumbled but did not stop; more poured in, closing the circle, the courtyard shrinking under the weight of their numbers.
Aldric laughed—a low, feral sound that carried like a blade across the night.
> "Come closer," he growled.
"All of you! Let's see if your faith can save you from me!"
Mana surged again, coiling around him like living serpents, feeding the poleaxe with every ounce of his rage. The weapon glowed, pulsed, whispered of pain and death.
He pivoted, swinging in wide, devastating arcs, each strike shredding armor, cleaving shields, leaving streaks of red across the glimmering moonlit garden. The hedges trembled. Petals rained down, glinting with drops of rain and blood alike.
Lyriana's eyes narrowed, grip firm on Lucifer: she understood the magnitude of what Aldric had unleashed. The calm, measured calculations she'd held moments ago now clashed with the pure feral destruction erupting in front of her.
> "Aldric…" she whispered, voice steady but tinged with fear, "don't lose yourself…"
But he was already beyond caution. Every heartbeat, every pulse of blood, fueled the storm of violence he had become. The poleaxe hummed in his hands, a symphony of carnage, as he prepared to tear a path through the Empire's knights—every one who had dared encircle them.
The lead knight stepped forward again, boots sinking slightly into the wet grass. The circle of steel behind him shifted in unison, a living wall of polished armor and divine intent.
He raised his sword high above his head. Moonlight gleamed along the blade—but then, as if answering the summons in his heart, it burst into flame. Not ordinary fire, but a searing white-gold blaze, crackling with divine mana. The heat washed outward in waves, and even the petals on the wet stone quivered in response.
Aldric's crimson eyes narrowed, the feral smirk on his lips widening.
The knight began to chant, voice deep and resonant, carrying across the courtyard like the tolling of a bell:
> "O Radiant Mother, Light that guides the faithful!
Flame of purity, wrath of yours —bless my Blade!
Burn away the shadows, consume the darkness,
Vanquish these demons who dare sully your world!"
Each word seemed to hang in the air, solid as stone. Mana coiled visibly along the knight's gauntlets and arms, flowing into the flaming sword. Sparks danced along the wet stone as if the courtyard itself acknowledged the invocation.
He spoke again, slower, each word deliberate and heavy:
> "You, who slay the innocent, who revel in blood,
Who dare defy the holy will of the Goddess—
Feel her judgment!
Feel her fire!"
The knights behind him lowered their spears, raised their swords, and echoed the chant in low, reverent unison. The sound reverberated through the air like the vibration of a cathedral, a symphony of impending doom.
Aldric laughed—a short, sharp, feral sound that cut through the divine resonance. His poleaxe pulsed with blood magic, responding to the fiery threat.
> "Demons? innocent? Don't make me laugh? You were just standing there watching them die " he snarled, voice thick with malice.
"You'll find we decide who is demon and who is prey."
Lyriana tightened her grip on Lucifer, sensing the tension spike, the clash of divine fire and unholy fury about to erupt. The courtyard was no longer a garden—it was an altar. And on that altar, two forces, light and shadow, were poised to collide.
The lead knight's flaming sword hovered, ready to descend like a hammer of judgment. The chanting rose to a fevered pitch.
> "By the Radiant Mother! By the Light eternal!
Burn away the corruption! Purge the darkness!"
Aldric's eyes flared crimson. Mana surged through his veins, coiling along the poleaxe.
> "Cut the nonsense and come at me let's see whose fire is stronger," he hissed, voice a promise of carnage.
The knights tensed, the air quivering with holy flame.
A heartbeat.
A second.
The storm was about to break.
The lead knight let out a roar that was half prayer, half battle cry, and surged forward. Flames roared along the edge of his sword, searing the wet stone beneath him, igniting the air with heat and light.
Aldric's eyes narrowed, pupils slitted crimson. The poleaxe in his hand hummed with Mana, coiling and writhing like a living thing. His grip tightened until his knuckles cracked.
He planted his boots firmly, bracing against the first surge of the charge.
And then—he swung.
The poleaxe met the flaming sword head-on. The clash was deafening, metal screaming against metal, fire and blood magic colliding in a shower of sparks and searing heat. A pulse of mana erupted from the strike, rippling through the courtyard, rattling petals, and twisting rain into a ghostly mist around them.
Aldric didn't falter. One hand gripped the poleaxe, the other steadying Elenya against his chest in the perfect balance of brutal force and control. The impact slammed through his arm, but he let the shock fuel him rather than slow him.
> "You think your little flames scare me?" he hissed, teeth gritted, a twisted smirk curling across his face.
"Maybe try and make it burn a little brighter."
The knight pressed forward, swinging the sword in a deadly arc, flames roaring along the blade as if alive. Aldric pivoted, swinging the poleaxe in a counterstrike, sparks flying as the weapons collided again, ringing through the night like the tolling of a war bell.
The shockwave pushed against the rain-soaked stone, splintering petals and shaking hedges. Aldric's single-handed grip strained, but the weapon seemed to pulse in response, hunger for destruction fueling the swing.
The knight's flaming sword hissed as it scraped against the blood metal of the poleaxe, molten sparks dripping down like white-hot rain. His eyes behind the visor glinted with holy fury, every strike precise, every movement a calculated prayer of death.
Aldric's smirk widened, sharp and unnerving, as he matched each strike, twisting his body to send a counterweight that drove the knight back a step. Blood magic flared from the poleaxe, black tendrils licking along the flames, smothering them where they met.
> "Your Radiant Mother?" Aldric growled.
" Let's see her try to save you when I cut off your head."
The knight's next swing carved an arc of fire through the air, and Aldric met it head-on. One hand, one weapon, raw blood magic against divine flame. The sparks that erupted painted the garden in streaks of white-gold and crimson, and for a moment, it was just them—the hunter and the hunted—each testing the other's fury, each refusing to yield.