Violently, grotesquely, the hilt bashed in the knight's helmet, the pommel and cross-guard inflicting the most damage. Without relent, Raphael continued this assault, pummeling his hilt into the knight's head repeatedly. So adapted had he become to that motion that he fell into a rhythm, striking her over and over and over again until she simply stopped moving.
Raphael tried to reclaim his lost breath, feeling the muscles in his chest growing sore from their workout. He gazed upon his opponent, her bent-in helmet, watching as blood began to pour out from underneath. The glow from her eyes fading into the darkness, her life, like the glow, smothered into nothingness. Yet her body remained active, twitching and spasming, her armour joining in for one last time.
Raphael was without remorse, his purple eyes then flocking to his comrade. Libitina was in battle, but not with her original opponent. Like Raphael's opponent, that fellow laid lifeless upon the ground. Evidence of her decisive acts would be found by his waist and right shoulder, where pools of blood could be found. Libitina seemed to be handling herself quite well, despite a few minor lacerations here and there.
It was then that Raphael's attention was stolen, his ears catching the loud, yet subtle advance of his next opponent. His eyes beamed at the next Loyal Knight to do battle, examining them. He couldn't identify if they were male or female by just staring at the armour, since the armour was ambiguous in design. However, such question was worthless, finding a more important detail in their hand.
Their left hand wielded an unusual spear, a beautifully crafted spear made entirely of adamas. It looked like the hybrid between a ranseur and partisan, with a long, double-edged head affixed upon a crescent shaped hilt. How unusual, considering it broke the uniform code of the Loyal Knights, rules that were especially enforced.
But Raphael's skin froze over the moment he realized what it truly was, his experience as a member of the Ruler's Council providing him with an idea as to just who he might be facing.
"That spear,"
he noted in thought.
Adamas was considered sacred, only a single piece can belong to a family. Such a piece becomes a sort of prized family heirloom, passed down from generation to generation. This spear he stared upon was given exception despite it breaking uniform... and there was a solid logic behind it. Possession of this spear declared who helmed the Kórakas family, a family which reached the highest status of nobility due to their elite combat prowess.
The leather capelet of the Kórakas family which laid atop the long, royal blue cape of the Loyal Knights, this was a sort of intimidation tactic. Any who knew anything about the nobility of Governanti should know... Whoever it was before Raphael, be they male or female, was an exceptionally skilled warrior.
The Loyal Knight halted just a few steps from Raphael. They calmly dropped to their knees and deprived themselves of their tower shield, placing it gently, carefully down upon the ground beside their feet. They then rose back up, standing perfectly straight. Their presence emitted a lofty, commanding aura, the kind that demanded attention and respect.
But much to Raphael's surprise, the knight then showed respect and humility. They bowed in a most formal, gracious manner like that of a duelist's, bending their leg behind the other, even lowering their spear behind them. Yet the silver-haired heir had no time for such trivial formalities, much preferring to take advantage of their lowered stance.
He quickly closed the gap between the two while the knight wasn't looking, raising his sword upwards to take the swing. Yet before his arm barely began to gain momentum, it was ceased of all motion. The knight wasn't even looking up at him, yet their hand reached out and grabbed ahold of his wrist.
He was obviously startled, but he didn't allow it to capture him for anything longer than a brief moment. His right hand then began to reach for his waist, seeking out his side-arm. However, even despite the knight's head still being lowered, they reacted as if they
could
see what he was doing. The knight then twisted Raphael's wrist in an extremely uncomfortable, awkward angle, instantly, but briefly draining him of any and all energy.
Yet he fought through the pain, continuing to reach for his dagger. He then felt a shoulder ram straight into his exposed ribs, a powerful, stunning blow which forced all of the air out of his lungs. In this same instance, Raphael felt his legs swept out from under him. The knight then latched both hands around Raphael's left arm, pulling it over their right shoulder. And in one fluid, skillful motion, Raphael was lifted and thrown over the knight's shoulder.
Raphael's back slammed straight down upon the ground. The tremendous impact thundered across his nerves, leaving him gripped with agony. He grunted and groaned as soon as he hit the ground, his face coiled up and his brows rolled down to his eyes. But he then felt another impact hammer down upon him, finding a blackened steel sabaton planted firmly into his sternum.
Raphael was pinned down, he couldn't evade, he couldn't roll away. He couldn't muster enough strength to pull away the knight's foot, no matter how hard he tried. He squirmed, kicked, but the knight was not budging. He was a measly human compared to the god, his strength no match.
In this moment, for the first time, Raphael got a glimpse of the eyes of his opponent. These ethereal, glowing eyes which shone a pristine, yet chilling sky blue. These eyes would be the last thing he saw in this world, his reaper. Raphael was not content with merely waiting and accepting his execution, but the spear began to descend upon him. He had clearly lost this duel, and now his life was over.
But by some miracle, Raphael was not yet dead. His ears captured the echoing sound of a sudden quarrel nearby, prompting an investigation. He grew shocked, finding then Libitina in a seemingly desperate engagement with the knight. Even despite her very silent, surprise ambush, the knight was able to react. Libitina had gone in for an stab, wielding a long, stiff-bladed dagger in an ice-pick grip to penetrate through the knight's thick plate armour. But the knight somehow turned around and reacted to this attack even before Libitina could truly get into the motion.
The two were now tied up in a close quarters conflict, but the knight caught a strike from Libitina in the hilt of their partisan-esque spear. This sight made Raphael's heart grow heavy, for he remembered well the rules of Balor's despicable game. "NO, YOU FOOL!!" Raphael's voice painfully blared.
He watched, completely powerless to do anything. The Loyal Knight drew their sword and plunged it straight into Libitina... Then another knight came and did the same. The Loyal Knights encircling them swarmed as though with a single mind, lunging their swords into her. Another knight, then another knight, then another knight, until they completely surrounded her.
Raphael's face froze with fright, his body shaking, dripping in a cold sweat. The horribly gruesome sight before his eyes, the bloodied tips of those blades pierced all throughout her body like she were locked inside a sort of invisible iron maiden. The Loyal Knights ripped their blades out of her ravaged body at exactly the same time, and the grievously wounded assassin instantly collapsed. Raphael got to his hands and knees, hastily scrambling over to her.
He found her side as she laid in heart-wrenching silence, carefully cradling her blood-soaked, hole-ridden body. He looked down upon her, oddly sympathetic of this woman whom he once considered his enemy. Yet, as fate would have it, she who once sought his life, was now she who saved it.
"...Why?" Raphael questioned in anger. "What were you thinking!? Why did you...?"
But then she opened her eyes, and their very sight slayed Raphael's voice instantly. His whole face broadened as though truly taken aback by something, a sense of lost and enlightenment shined over his eyes like water. His mouth dangling in mid-sentence, his breathing stilled. His purple eyes stared upon her aging face... and his own eyes gazed back at him.
Raphael met with Libitina's eyes, having lost their crimson-red color. Instead, the facade was unveiled, and he was bestowed this cruel, inhumane revelation. Flashbacks of several conversations suddenly poured into his brain, but only one small bit of dialogue would be recovered.
"My, you do have Astrid's eyes,"
the first, Telvern Thaddeus, to whom Raphael can still vividly recall, leaning back on that chair, looking at him upside down.
Yes, that was the truth. The truth before, and the truth now. These eyes that he saw, they alone were enough to confirm it... Her name was not Libitina, she was...
"...Astrid?" Raphael mumbled quietly to her, a label which piqued Balor's interest. He stood up from his throne, his sapphire blue irises watching Raphael's opponent turn their blade against him. They raised it up high, intending to end his suffering quickly. Raphael did not heed the world, focusing only on she who laid dying in his arms.
"Stay your blades and give them space," commanded Balor, halting any and all motion against Raphael. "She hasn't much time left in this world."
The corners of her mouth, frothed with blood, lifted, Libitina letting out a very weak, but incredibly brave smile. With every ounce of strength remaining, she fought viciously against the black, to retain consciousness. Her left hand began to lift from one of her many wounds, very slowly, unsteadily reaching for something. So terribly weak was she that she could barely lift it far above her, but she tried so very hard to reach it.
"...Because... I... I..." she tried to speak, but her voice was far too weak to get anything out, her breathing shallow and labored.
"Don't speak! Save your strength!" Raphael yelled hectically.
Her hand reached closer and closer to its destination, every inch of space a battle of a lifetime. "...Because... I... l-love..." Libitina persisted against Raphael's wishes, muttering an additional word before everything went black. Her hand collapsed, the bare momentum of its movement carried it near Raphael's face. The tips of her fingers managed to touch him, the blood upon them being brushed across his cheekbone.
Her terribly stressed, haggard breathing ceased, her purple eyes losing all of their luster, and her once proud, joyous smile dissipated. She grew dull, and her body went limp. "...Mother?" Raphael uttered in one crackling, heartbreaking breath.
With tears in his eyes, he shook her. But he wasn't a fool, he realized quickly what had happened. She had passed from this world, bleeding to death in his arms. And all around, steel pointed down upon him. Raphael became suddenly enrobed in a tight-knit circle of blackened steel, Loyal Knights who pointed their blades down upon him. Yet still, he completely ignored their presence, remaining affixed upon the face of the mother he lost.
"Turn your blades from his throat and depart his side," the black-haired king Balor commanded.
The Loyal Knights did as ordered, yet one seemed in protest, keeping his blade aimed at Raphael's throat. "But this man intends to take your life!" Said Loyal Knight did speak out foolishly against the will of the king. "He is possessed by the demon goddess!"
"Stay your tongue, Clan-Brother," that Loyal Knight with the unusual adamas spear calmly, yet strongly advised, the voice of said knight appeared of that of a female's.
"I'd suggest you do," Balor then insisted, glaring his eyes at the knight. "I'll not say this again: turn your blade from his throat and depart his side."
Reluctantly, the knight did as was ordered of him. He and the other Loyal Knights moved away, aligning themselves along the walls of the throne room. They held their positions until further command, despite some who may disagree with their king's course of action.
Raphael couldn't believe this, no matter how much he stared and stated. The one person he searched so long for, the mother he always wished to know. It ripped his heart out, but then filled that void with pure ire. She was here the entire time, right beside him... even after Lamia had told him that she was dead.
"...Did you know?" Raphael questioned Lamia, his sorrowful wrath lying just beneath his monotone voice.
"
Igja,
" the Neheztelian goddess Lamia confirmed without hesitation, a voice which startled the Loyal Knights around them.
"And you said nothing."
"Upon that twilight of kismet, I heard a voice beckoning me as though a distant bell lost in the midnight. I was a moth to a flame, and when I came afore it, vicious gales had weakened this flame to but embers. 'Twas the fire of a woman who had lost all will to burn, and so she flickered and began to fade. I tended to her, and she confessed to me. Hers was the plight of a mother who had forsaken those whom she loved more than anything: the kindred soul with whom she shared love and the newborn child to which they bore. She spoke so lovingly of them, yet in circles, she uttered only ill and contempt for herself. She so desperately yearned for her son, but she believed herself not a mother deserving of him. Her heart had become a confliction, a maddening blaze which all but consumed her own flame. I did as I could to consult and comfort her, but 'tis a wound far more lethal than any stroke of steel. I tended to that which smoldered so wildly: the emotions required to feel, and her emotional dependency, the emotional value of her memories. And to shield her from any potential threats, I made her into mine."
"
Dego,
'twas not expunged, merely... suppressed. The moment I began to dwell within you, our connection was severed. The door became opened again, and her losses began to seep back in. And yet, she remained as still as a windless night, requesting that I further beguile you... for the sake of your cause."
"For the Resistance...?"
"She was not without eyes, for she herself saw the paramountcy of your role within the Resistance, to the entirety of humankind. If your step faltered for even a brief moment, then all would surely crumble. Worse still, that grievous inferno had not withered out, yet only furthered. The losses of her kindred soul and her mentor like a forest afore it."
"She could remember everything, but had no ability to feel anything about it. I guess that's the real reason why she didn't kill me. She knew who I was the whole time..."
"She feared your wrath, your enmity for having abandoned you those many nights ago. And so, she dug not a well to drink from, drying her throat to the point of aridity."
"So that's it, huh?" Raphael spoke bitterly, then smashing his fist into the ground. "I couldn't hate her for what she did... She left because she had to, not because she wanted to! She was here the whole time -- the whole
damn
time -- and I never knew..." In his arms did she still linger, holding her even tighter. Tears fell from his eyes, dripping down onto hers. They flowed down the side of her face as though she herself were crying, a sight of her sorrow and lament even in death.
All that remained within the center of the throne room was both Raphael and the king himself. Balor's legs finally ceased of motion, being now just feet away from his ultimate adversary. Raphael's face remained hidden from the charcoal-headed king's vision, but he could make out the rebel's wrathful sorrow trickling from his eyes.
As Raphael held the terribly wounded body of his mother closer, he decided to put her down. With utmost respect and care, Raphael gently placed her down like putting her down to sleep. He then slowly rose up from her bloodied side, his leather armour dressed in her crimson. He gazed forward and found his ultimate adversary, the one responsible for all of his pain, the blood of his mother still fresh upon his cheek.
Balor smiled at him, finding that which he so long sought after. Through tears burning with vengeance and grief, a glorious, ethereal glow shone from his purple irises. With fists clenched to the point of breaking skin, Raphael's hatred and rage was unveiled. His eyes illuminated with a light much like Balor's, shining brighter than the fire of any ordinary Solasúian.
"So, it is the truth," Balor commented, his tone calm yet somewhat eager. "You are indeed my brother."
Balor's right hand then reached across his body, ripping out the king's blade from its beautifully assembled scabbard. He brandished Arbandor, the legendary blade of the king, and prepared himself for the battle of his life. Yet he still wielded that grin, its nature not of arrogance and overconfidence of his victory as it was once upon a time. No, it was of eagerness and elation to finally face his adversary on even terms.
"The rules are still in effect," the king informed all of his people. "If any of you partake or interfere in our duel in any way, be it deliberately or accidentally, I'll cut you down myself."
They acknowledged the orders of their king, standing up tall and planting their left hands firmly into the right side of their chests. They kept themselves in such a position, not a single inch of motion between any of them, not even a breath. Raphael took up his sword Falcon, preparing himself to do battle just as Balor did.
"Should I fall in this bout, let the truth be known: his name is not Raphael Béla," Balor stated aloud, stern-toned. "His birth name -- his
true
name -- is Raphael Divus Barn, the third son of Lord Divus Nomos Barn, heir to the throne, and the true inheritor of our father's legacy. He and I share the blood of the king, wear the face of the king, and shine the light of the king. And should I perish, I order all of you to stay your blades from his flesh and adhere to his voice, unless the word of Queen Lucia possesses you otherwise. You will obey this command, even if I am left bleeding on the floor and begging for my life. He is a Barn and my little brother, therefore he deserves to be rightfully treated as such."
"Upon my blood, my lord!" Each and every Loyal Knight simultaneously and faithfully pledged.
Balor then lightly chuckled to himself. "It's only natural that this location would play host to our true battle, and nearly a century after Lord Dias's victory no less! It's quite difficult to deny the existence of fate sometimes, wouldn't you agree? Especially considering Lamia herself stands beside you. It's almost as if history itself has repeated."
"Say whatever you want about history, but I won't allow this battle to end the same way it did back then," Raphael solemnly vowed. "I swore that I would kill you, and I intend on keeping my word."
"Oho! Fighting words, Raphael! At least you haven't lost your spirit," the king responded with plenty of enthusiasm, readying his stance. "Come then, brother! Let us have the duel we were always meant to have -- as equals!"
As Balor got into stance, Raphael prepared himself. He reached for his sword-breaker, wielding it in an reversed grip in his off-hand. The two studied each other in calm, calculating silence, seeking a weakness within their form. Their stances both were solid, proving a challenge to strategize against.
