One could sense fear in Clifford's expression, but he refused to show it. Making up a fake rebellious expression.
" Lucien, what the hell are you doing here?" Asking, trying to pretend like he had no idea what Lucien was talking about.
" Spear me the fake ignorance. You bloody scum" Lucien responded as he moved towards Clifford slowly with killer intent.
While the man with Clifford, John, moved back in fear.
" Who is he?" He asked, hiding behind Clifford.
Then Clifford moved closer to Lucien slowly with caution.
" Lucien… it's not what you think…" Clifford said silently with the intent to find a way to lie to Lucien.
Unfortunately, Lucien doesn't seem to be in the mood to listen to explanations. He dashed towards Clifford in speed, holding him aloft by the neck.
" Unlucky for you, I despise the fact of listening traitors. I should snap your neck right now !" Lucien growls in anger as he tightens his grip on Clifford's neck.
Clifford held Lucien hand tightly, trying to loosen the grip on his neck. " You have to… Calm down Lucien "
Lucien threw Clifford to the other side of the tunnel, then moved towards John.
" And you, who sent you?" He asked with a frown on his face as his eyes glowed red, covered with his black curly hair.
Clifford is seen standing up from his fall, " I've had enough of this humiliation! " He dashed towards Lucien swiftly.
Lucien's back was half turned, with his head a little bit turned to Clifford's direction, showing half of his face, covered with his hair.
" Hmm… you finally decided to show your traitor nature" Lucien face molded with a faint smile.
As Clifford got closer to Lucien, he leapt to the mid air and charged towards him with a punch stretched out.
Lucien deflected the punch with one arm casually and landed a palm strike on Clifford's chest, which sent him at the wall, the impact echoed through the tunnel.
Clifford wasted no time feeling the pain, he charged towards Lucien in speed, this time with his hand turned into lava drip inside tunnel water.
He stretched his hand towards Lucien and lava were launched at him, Lucien noticed there is no room for casually, he began to dodge them as he sees them to be a real threat.
He tried getting close to Clifford, but it was as if the lava had it in mind, every time he got closer, they formed a wall around Clifford and lava balls were shot out of the same wall.
Lucien is seen standing a few steps across Clifford. " Attacking and defending at the same time, that's vile " Lucien mumbles quietly. " Well then, it appears I'll have a level up a little bit"
Then, Lucien nails elongated a few inches more, with canine teeth stretching out a little bit more, his facial expression changed from cold to that of a person with killer instinct.
While Clifford watches this a few feet away from him, he signals to John to flee, knowing things are about to get dicey.
When Clifford noticed that John is far away from them enough. He charged at Lucien in speed but to his surprise, before reaching where Lucien was standing, almost in a blink of an eye, he was gone.
And in a moment, he is right behind Clifford again. He stretched out his hand at Clifford and his nails left a nasty scratch on Clifford's back.
Making him yell in pain. But then he turned his back again and Lucien was gone. " He found my blind spot?" Clifford thought to himself as he looked around the tunnel in one spot.
Suddenly Clifford is seen docking an invisible attack from behind, then stretches out his hand to the mid air and launches a lava ball at it. Surprisingly it hits something and the invisible object was revealed, it was Lucien.
Lucien was hurled through the air and slammed into the wall. The lava seared away his clothes and flesh, revealing glints of bone beneath. Then, impossibly—the wound began to close, the tissue flowing back into place like water smoothing over a stream bed.
Clifford's eyes pathed away for a surprised expression, " He has healing abilities too ?" His mind
" Why looking so surprised, don't be shocked… I've always been your superior " Lucien voiced out as he dashed towards Clifford, stretching out his hand.
…
My energy is flagging. Then again, being chased by a mythical avian monster isn't exactly an everyday occurrence.
A few yards ahead, a cave mouth gaped—a jagged grin choked with leaves and blossoms so foul they made my stomach turn. But there was no time to be picky. The creatures were closing the gap.
I hurled into the tummy of the cave, inside it darkness covered me like a blanket. It was more hideous than I imagined.
I heard a creepy sound behind me that almost made me shiver, as I turned back to see what it was, the universe inverted again and I found myself in a desert. The scorching sun was burning through my skin like meat inside an oven at full temperature.
The same silhouette I saw the first, I saw it sitting on a rock at a very far distance. I began to close the gap between us as I moved towards his direction.
The sand storm in the desert is not a pleasant one. The sand gave me a strong push, as I keep piercing through the wind while covering my face from the sand.
The man on the rock was not sitting, but waiting. A silhouette carved from the absence of light, he was a statue of shadow against the stone. I could feel the weight of his gaze long before my mind registered it; even with his face lost in the depths of a black hood, his attention was a physical force, a pressure against my skin. His form was a cruel mockery of the Sojourner—a familiar outline, a ghost of a trusted shape—but twisted into something profane. The difference, the only difference, was the great sword. He had not merely drawn it; he had driven it into the earth beside him, a jagged fang biting deep into the rock, as if the ground itself was his prisoner..
Finally, I bridged the distance between us, each step a conscious effort until a mere thirty feet of hallowed ground separated us. There I halted, rooted to the spot. All the while, I could feel his gaze—that dead, searching thing,roving across my body like a slow caress. Yet, he remained a statue of perfect stillness.
"So. They sent you to fetch me." The voice dripped from the abyss of the hood—a thick, ancient thing. "What insolence." It cut through my thoughts not like a sword, but like the cold of a blade drawn slowly across the skin.
When he rose, it was as if the earth itself was shedding him—a myriad of dust and sand cascading from his form like the remnants of a freshly dug grave. He stood there for a breath, a monolith reclaiming its purpose. Then, with a speed that belonged not to flesh but to falling shadow, he was upon me. I had no time to think, no time to flinch. I simply was, and then I was in his grip—his palm a vice of stone around my throat, squeezing the world into darkness.
I found myself in the air, the strange Paragon of destruction has thrown me away with a great force, I felt my body reacting to the pace of the movement of the wind. I landed roughly on the sand, which was on a bright side better than if it was a hard surface, yet the crash was so great that the impact caused a huge crater on the sand.
Pain was my only focus. My hands traced the bruises flowering across my body, cataloging each ache, when the world around me dimmed. A shape passed before the sun, a winged silhouette burning at the edges with stolen light. An avian, my mind supplied desperately, a trick of the exhausted eye. But it fell toward me like an arrow loosed from heaven's own bow, and as it fell, the illusion shattered. Not a creature. Not a bird. It was the paragon of destruction, and its name was a silent scream in my thoughts. He had wings—mighty, terrible wings !
He struck the earth before me like a hammer of damnation. The impact sent a visible shockwave rippling through the desert sand, a tidal wave of dust that rushed outward in a perfect ring. For a moment, he simply stood there, silhouetted against the settling haze. Then his body began to sing—a low, crackling hum that climbed into my bones. Light danced across his form, writhing and coiling. No, my mind screamed, stumbling over itself, not light—lightning. It crawled over him like living serpents, each one pale and furious, nesting in the hollow of his shoulders, curling around his arms, tasting the air with forked tongues. They were not attacking him. They were part of him. And in that terrible recognition, something familiar stirred in my chest—a ghost I could not yet name.
"Then you know what I am. One of the paragons." His voice was a death given sound. "I am the Annihilator." The lightning consumed him.
TO BE CONTINUED. . .