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WARDREAD'S CHARIOT

© By Raid The Revenge

WARNING: Contains scenes of explicit violence, gore and religious contradictions.

Adults only.

---DO NOT DISTRIBUTE---

By reading this Chapter, you are agreeing to place no alternate

feelings or sensitivities towards the author.

All moods deprived from this story are to be exerted with Apathy.

DANGER: All of the stunts in this legend are infernal. Always wear appropriate safety gear when riding or driving any motorized vehicle. The author will not be held responsible for any action taken as a result from the reading of this script.

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There is a blackened heart in the north. A dark rain of curtains and clouds has begun to flood the towers, where not even the midday sun can pierce the pulsing shade. The sounds of degenerating souls are echoing from this city and driving away all the surrounding life towards the south. Thousands of miles away, there is a cliff where all fleeing life reaches an end. No mortal can survive the Forging desert, for that land is a depression of gray sand. Only a scattering of serrated spires and craggy rocks line the Forging desert near its center.

Located within the incising mountains is a crystalline sanctuary. It is an eye of reflecting sunlight in the form of a glistening lens, which contains an emerald iris of green foliage and flowers. Dozens of different colored blooms are flaring under the sun within the iris. No shadows exist as the sunlight is deflected and drawn towards the gathering glades within. The pupil is completely white except for a sparkle of gold.

Only the eye can be seen from the heavens, with the trembling body of gold inside. She is a sleeping lioness, with a naked body of strength and vigor. She is breathing heavily upon a white mound of sand. Every wave on her body is a powerful muscle, which shudders as she rests within the sanctuary, lined with plant life all around its walls. She is alone, full of nightmares and visions. She can foresee a conflict between two riders, who're filling her body with confusion and fear. Her prophecy is from the northern city of imprisonment. Her nightmare is real.

Drak felt the warmth of friction between his legs. The feeling of metals thrusting within their chambers was powerful. He leaned forward to grasp the hilts of his ride while glancing to his left, where he saw the ambassador. She was grinning with a constant ecstasy. Her raven mantle was laced with small chains, which were strong enough to prevent her from flying. She only performed her duties out of delight. Her violent, prejudice and impulsive behaviors always led to the death of others. Her face was writhed with excitement, as she was astride her newest plaything; engraved with the red Japanese calligraphy of a hyabusa. Drak felt disgusted with his opponent. He was present for the exact opposite reasons, with the exception of obligation, since he had to accompany this guest.

Each time Drak turned the right hilt towards himself, his ride moaned. He needed to inspire fire into his engine or it would not perform like a true lover should. If he turned the right hilt too tightly, his machine would scream in pain. He was no sadist, but he wanted agony to be brought upon the female his eyes never left from. Drak slowly began to grip the left lever with his infernal hand and squeeze, which released a clutch. Once the clutch was fully pulled on the left hilt, he stomped his left hoof down onto a lever on the left side of his mechanical lover; gear one.

"Are you going to kill yourself?" the sadistic demon screamed at Drak.

"No!" a pain emitted from the infernal.

The succubus laughed like a drugged fanatic. She was barefoot, yet the metallic vertices didn't affect her as she slammed her foot down onto the left side of her ride. She began to feel the equivalent of an orgasm as she entered gear one.

"Good! I want you dead by my hands!" she exclaimed as her jet-black eyes gazed into Drak's crimson

ones.

"I won't disappoint you in anything but my death," Drak responded over the droning.

She was already ahead of his preparation. The succubus grasped her right lever and squeezed, which triggered the front brakes of her ride. She then turned the right hilt on her machine to make the hyabusa scream...and then she reengaged the clutch.

With her front brakes locked, her rear wheel spun against the black asphalt like a banshee. The wheel spun in its place, grinding against the road and releasing a white ghost. Her machine screamed, but not as loud as herself. The slaves in the distance began to cover their ears as the hyabusa became haunted by a white cloud. The stench of molten rubber was apparent and finally, the universe was silent. The crimson succubus laughed in delight.

"Did you mount a turbo in this boy?" the raven-winged female demanded more than asked.

Drak hesitated his answer as a roaring cry emerged from his throat. His scream was full of anger, rather than ecstasy, while the R1's rear wheel spun in response to those activated levers on the right hilt. Drak locked his eyes shut as the wailings of steel gears and explosive powers drowned his screams of anger. There was silence at the end of his eruption, along with a drifting white smoke in the air. His visage was now like a dormant volcano; a pair of scarlet eyes being the only visible flashes that could be seen through the smolder.

"Yes!" Drak screamed in rage as his eyes flashed brighter.

"Then your R1 doesn't stand a chance!" the succubus screamed with glee.

"No..." Drak returned without a voice. "Your skills lack discipline."

"I felt that!" the succubus glared in return.

There were no voices between the rivals. They only stared at each other, but their gazes fluctuated and showed there was an argument now taking place.

"I've trained hard for this race," the succubus said without voice.

"You didn't even know how to inspire fire into your wheels!" Drak clawed into the girl's mind.

"You're going to play by the rules!" she grinned as she blackened Drak's mental void.

"You just stalled your engine!" Drak finally grinned for once in return.

With that telepathic statement, the succubus looked down at her dead vehicle and instantly disengaged the clutch while pressing an ignition button. Her machine came back to life and she felt the fires circulate again. It was hard to believe she didn't notice it before, but she always lost herself in mental conversations. She always tried to pry deeper than she intended in order to seek out desires and weaknesses.

"You bastard!" the succubus actually screamed at Drak.

"Wardread..." the infernal felt ashamed as he finally broke his crimson gaze from her jet-black one.

Drak's infernal machine was the color of blood red on black. The R1 had notoriety from being the best at winning two-wheeled races. Drak's device was modified to weigh 425 lbs on a full fuel tank. In the end, it was a hydra of sharp edges, aerodynamics and computers with even a digitally enhanced throttle. The engine of an R1 has a maximum performance of 13,500 rotations per minute; deception leading the majority to believe it's 500 less.

Wardread's machine was a product of chaos. She constantly wanted changes made to her ride, down to the paint color. The hyabusa was enraged in black, with all calligraphy signatures painted in a victory red on the sides. Wardread wanted nothing but power, but the other infernals could only half imagine her desires. The hyabusa was finished to weigh 550 lbs with a turbo included. In the end, the machine was believed to have 499 horsepower, which was greater than Drak's R1 by over 300. The hyabusa was made into a monster and Wardread was the only one mentally unstable enough to ride it. There are rumors to this day of human bodies that exploded after attempting to ride a modified hyabusa at its maximum velocity.

The riders were now an arm's length away from each other and a distant crowd of demons raised their barbed talons into the air. Their screams were as deafening as people caught in hurricanes and plagues; they wanted Wardread to win. The thousands numbered their serrated wings as they all perched upon the buildings above, watching everything the riders performed. A race was about to begin. It was a terrible spectacle, constructed to fascinate the black ivories and amber teeth of the demons. It was all dreamed by the madness of Wardread's high-ranking status. There would be a prize in the end, made from an edge of glass that belonged to another infernal plane. Wardread was thrilled at the idea of getting a weapon to help her kill more viciously. If Wardread were pleased, perhaps all the anarchic demons would forfeit a war between themselves and the tempered bloods of the devils. A blood war. The infernal devils have always been the ones who kept the abyssal demons in check. Drak's goal was full of secrets and desires, which were all confusing enough to bring any mortal to insanity, but Wardread was to stay alive at all costs. If Wardread were to die, even by the hands of her own demonic kind, then the Blood Wars would ensue.

The succubus looked into the amber sky, which was infested with black smoke and pollution above. There would be a signal to start the apocalypse. Her mind was injecting thoughts into Drak like a seeping poison.

"They will try to kill you," Wardread lashed into Drak's mind.

There was a moment where Drak adjusted the mirror on his right hilt to reveal himself. He saw a horrific face of crimson eyes and smooth earthly fur. His monstrous hand, full of obsidian claws, left the mirror when he saw a reflection of his midnight-black antlers. His mind flashed images to Wardread, images of his hands clawing demonic flesh.

"You must kill any that interfere," the succubus returned without voice.

Drak returned a vision of his bloody hands running all over Wardread's body. She began to breathe heavily from the enervation, as she returned thoughts of fiery passions to Drak.

"I will give you such a prize if you survive..." Wardread whispered her thoughts to Drak.

A strange glow appeared in the sky. It was an azure phantom, falling from the skyscrapers where all demonic spectators were perched. Wailings by the thousands echoed through the streets as the image became clear; a winged cranage. A demonic vulture, that enjoyed peeling flesh away from its victims with hind talons and fore claws. The cranage flew with white ivory wings; stained with blood on the tips. The taloned hind legs raised and prepared for a fierce landing, before its body compacted with an earth-shaking strike upon the street. The cranage's wings unfolded to full span and it screamed into the heavens from a blood glistening beak. The eyes of a cranage never shed feelings of any kind, even during murder, since they are an emotionless milky white. The cranage's barbed face seized its spirited scream and looked down upon Drak with an infected grin. Although the body of a cranage is thin, its strength is only comparable by those with even less remorse. A navy blue shimmer is always reflected from such a foul creature. The cranage carried an ivory sword, drenched in blood, which slowly begun to rise into the sky. Wardread planted her body close to her ride as Drak's scarlet eyes met with the cranage's pearl ones. Violently, the avian shrieked as it slammed its sword into the ground with an explosive force.

Wardread screamed louder than anything in the universe as she accelerated. Her spinning rear-wheel gripped the street and her body was propelled like a comet. Her machine howled like a released monster. The hyabusa wavered slightly as it traveled forward along the straight-ahead. Drak revved his throttle, now sounding like a diamond drill, and then reengaged the clutch to peel out. He roared as he advanced forward, than immediately lowered his head from the cranage's cross-slash. The vulture had retrieved its sword like lightning and attempted to cleave the head off Drak when he passed by, but to the avian's horror, the blade struck obsidian antlers instead. The R1 came to an instant stop at this point, from both front and rear brakes being engaged simultaneously. Drak pulled the clutch to prevent a stall and kicked-out a mighty hoof, which shattered the cranage's kneecap. The vulture's eyes opened wider than a pair of full moons as he let go of the sword still stuck in Drak's undamaged antlers. The pain was staggering to the cranage, but he recalled a final vision before his own death. The cranage demon saw his own sword of ivory being stabbed into his own chest by Drak's lunge thrust. All the spectators in the heavens emitted a wild scream of savagery, when they witnessed the racers below pulling away from the twitching body of a dead cranage. Navy ivory wings were spread across the blackened street before a soul diffused from its body.

Wardread was a supernova. She felt an increased velocity, like the hand of a goddess forcing her onward. The reflections of streetlights were passing over her eyes, with individual orbs forming into constant lines. The tarmac current was rushing towards her like a raging river, imposing Wardread to grip the handlebars so that they would prevent the wind from scraping her off the mount. All the sounds in the world were being drowned away by her screaming engine, which was now beginning to reach its maximum performance in 1st gear. Her mount was feeling lighter from the rapid current. The front of her ride began to rise into the air as Wardread leaned back like a charging knight upon a horse. As the illuminating streetlights faded one after another, Wardread's hayabusa was screaming in pain, for the 1st gear had reached its maximum execution. A marker was flowing over a red zone in the tachometer. Wardread panicked as she disengaged the clutch to change gears, which was done by placing her left foot under the gear lever and lifting it while reengaging the clutch. Although the engine had suddenly stopped screaming, her velocity continued to increase as she twisted the right handle for more throttle. The front of the mount was only a foot off the ground, yet Wardread felt compelled to prepare for the barricade ahead, which was wall of swords and barbed wire. She lightly brushed her right-foot over the rear brake to cause the front wheel to lower with a violent fall, causing all suspension to cushion from impact. She glanced over her shoulder for Drak...

"Foolish girl!" he screamed at Wardread.

Drak was fueled by a corrosive hatred. He channeled all his ferocity into the rear-wheel and launched himself forward, trailing Wardread's path a great distance. Drak focused his mind on the throttle and tachometer, his diamond drill crying from accumulation. Each second counted the violent increase of engine performance, from 0 to 13,000 rpm. He was a meteor in a starless universe. His body was leaning low enough to evade the oncoming air-current and prevent any kind of resistance, while his obsidian antlers cut through the wind like knives. Just before the glass marker touched the redzone in his tachometer, he switched to 2nd gear with a lightning action:

· Accelerate in first gear.

· Turn the throttle off while squeezing the clutch lever.

· Place your hoof UNDER the gear-change lever on the left side of the mount.

· Balance an increase of throttle with a reengaged clutch.

All tasks were performed instantaneously, with a perfect equalization of throttle and clutch reengagement. There was no loss in acceleration, as the R1 propelled with flashing speed. Drak looked ahead and saw the glimmering bindings on Wardread's dark mantle, now wavering in the hurricane winds. His eyes focused further into the landscape and saw a grotesque barricade of blades and teeth. Frightening. Drak was now crossing the point where Wardread began to slow down for the turn ahead. If Drak struck the wall at this speed, he would be killed instantly by the stabbing of countless blades and razors. Drak accelerated.

Wardread returned to gear one. She simultaneously engaged both front and rear brakes to slow down. She felt petrified, for a turn at this velocity could've caused her machine to slide out. Although she decelerated and braked early, her body felt locked by terror. This turn could've inspired fear into any demon; no less Wardread began to fear for her life. It was all from the diabolical wall ahead, full of thousands of thorns and serrated blades. It resembled the jaws of a malicious monster, becoming more imminent and close. Wardread begged to have her wings again, for she could have flown away from these approaching blades if it weren't for the chains that restrained her. She was not going to turn in time. Gradually, she heard Drak's diamond machine approaching and a vision of true terror entered her mind: hold onto the handlebars and drop her body off the right side! It was a mental image, delivered from Drak. Without thought, she slipped her body off the right side of her machine, while rotating her front wheel the same degree. She clung to the mount with her life. Her curve was perfect, as the hayabusa tilted nearly 45 degrees laterally and her right knee became inches away from the rushing black-current. Her surroundings rotated and the images of an evil barricade were gone, filled instead with glimmering edges of red. Drak was glaring at her from the inside of his own turn. Suddenly, an image of a volcanic eruption filled her mind. Power. Upon reaching the midpoint of this turn, Wardread and Drak both exerted energy from their rides. They slowly regained their position, like bent trees recovering from a rushing wind. They now rode side by side. Drak sighed in relief, for he was able to catch up with Wardread and deliver the message in time.

"There's another barricade ahead," Drak warned with a vision of spears and spikes.

"How far?" Wardread wondered with a darkening star.

Drak replied with an image, stretching across the landscape, revealing everything he could see. The road ahead of them was dark, with human military camps on each side. There were whips cracking, stones stacking and wailings of tortured souls beyond. These suffering humans were strong enough to be accepted into the infernal military, training for another campaign about to take place. Perhaps the devils were fortifying themselves with defense against the demons? Could it all be preparation in case Drak failed his mission? Or were these fighters trained to conquer lands beyond the city walls?

"The end of the street," Drak finally replied with a forecasted image.

The next barricade was even more horrific than the last. It was a black silhouette against the amber sky, with wavering spears in the wind.

"These walls weren't here before," Wardread emitted with images of deadly thorns being placed by cranages.

"Is that how they build their nests?" Drak asked while forming borders around Wardread's vision.

"Yes. They drop their prey into them..." the succubus replied with images of impaled souls.

After strenuous contemplation about the monoliths, there was a trickle of disgust being formed in Drak's mind. It was a current that Wardread collected and knew.

"They're hiding from us now..." the demon girl portrayed to Drak, with dreams of cranages in the darkness.

Their wailing machines were raising echoes as they passed the dreaded military, which received lashes for looking into the direction of the oncoming riders. The superiors rose above the humans with ascending stances of authority and threat. Wardread and Drak were flashes of reds and blurs as their piercing engines roared past; now replaced by a fading resonance.

"Stay close to me," Drak requested with a vision of raven feathers surrounding a garnet of red.

They drifted to the right side of the black current, preparing for a left turn to dodge the barricade. Drak envisioned himself transferring his body-weight onto the left side of his mount, like the gentle beckoning of a lover. Their rides curved toward the left in a perfect parallel and they accelerated at the midpoint. The hayabusa was heavier and less maneuverable than the R1's pyramid deltabox, so Drak had to consider speed and sharpness in order for both of them to finish alive. The R1 had an ultra advantage for turns, not including Drak's unsurpassed skills. However, the hayabusa was lightning on a straightaway, due to its unholy intensity.

After the arc, an emotional impulse began to settle into Drak. Everything began to slow down. His racing heart lengthened its tempo between each pulse, while the blaring engines had lowered in volume and the black current reduced its momentum. Even the furious winds had seized. Drak's eyes opened wide with wonder as he glanced at the speedometer on his display.

160 KM per hour.

Every muscle in Drak's body began to fill with a calming blood, since all terror had been slain from the world. Nothing mattered to him anymore except a single entity.

180 KM per hour.

Drak's head slowly turned and glanced toward the hayabusa, now carrying a soul who meant everything to him. She was the soul of a distorted angel, with the body of a human. Metal levers on the low side of her mount had raked her bare feet. A faint trail of blood had lined the foot-pegs she rested her weightless heels upon.

200 KM per hour.

Her elegant legs, wrapped in black leathers, were more than enough to illustrate her female eminence. Smooth steel would carry her wherever she walked. Perfect curves were flowing from her core, which revealed a tender skin above the waistline. Her naked stomach was bristled with symmetrical muscles, full in control of her riding posture.

220 KM per hour.

Her raven wings were lightly quivering in the gentle breeze. They shimmered from the dark lines of chain-link, made of glass, sealing Wardread away from flight. Along the wing's ridges were ivory feathers, sharp as razors, which formed after countless years of Wardread's life. Those sharp edges were lightly stroking against the links of chain, but not even an angel's wings could break free from the glass of Ankara. Her mantle was a countless mosaic of midnight feathers, each one a symbol of grandeur that could last a lifetime.

240 KM per hour.

Wardread had the long mane of a dark and moonless night. A vibrant shine was emanating from those waves as the wind imbued them like still water. Her hair flowed so gently, being lined with noticeable traces of red. Her hairstyle was straight and fine to the end, just below her shoulders. There was a definite emphasis on Wardread's hair being parted away from Drak so he could have full sight of her face.

260 KM per hour.

Her sensitive neck rose above her kevlar armor. Her suit was a victory red, protected by black joints of Ankara glass. Many reflections were pouring over those glass joints like stars. Wardread had left the front of her jacket open, revealing a black shirt underneath the red weaves of her armor. A pair of generous curves flowed from her chest. A seam of darkness ended just above her navel, where her slim waist was revealed; lined with those abdominal muscles so symmetrically slender.

280 KM per hour.

Wardread's eyes were no longer a pair of dark flawless pearls. Although her eyes contained no pupils, every witnessing soul knows when they're under a starry sky. Those opaque orbs were now emitting rays of pure violet. A powerful wavelength that reached further into the cosmos than any life could dream. An illumination so intense that it could slice through the heart of any creature. Drak was overcome by an enchantment of pure enlightenment. His potential and courage had reached a plane of infinity. The devil had stared into the eyes of a demon for an eternity.

300 KM per hour.

Drak awoke into a nightmare. He was engulfed in a ferocious typhoon of air and black water. His body had unconsciously transferred gears and accelerated upon his engine, now howling as violently as the wind. Wardread's eyes had returned to those abyssal pearls, full of darkness, while she struggled against the oncoming hurricane. Her wings had folded against her back, like the pose of a diving falcon. Her hair had become windswept along the blackness of her wings.

They rode this way for minutes on end, with only an arm's-length away from each other. Only the sounds of drilling engines could be heard over the impacting winds. Every skyscraper was a towering monolith, looming past the racers as they rode on. Lines of red were laced around these towers, each representing a level of hierarchy. Only the highest levels were given to the most sinful nobles, while the lowest belonged to corrupted humans or fighters. Slaves were given lodging from wherever they worked, until they evolved or died. Every street was deserted once the race was declared, leaving the roads naked for travel and making it possible for these maniacal riders to travel at this lightning speed for so long. However, Wardread believed an intruder was near who was preparing a trap that was giving birth to fear. Once again, the riders would have their courage put to the test from a demonic outsider.

"Webs ahead!" Wardread channeled into Drak with a horrific vision.

Her image was painted over a black canvas. A labyrinth of strands was flowing in every direction, with no two wires being same angle. It was a chaotic mesh as white as the pale moon, being strewn into a lattice of fatality. In the center of this tangled doom was an arachnid, a navy spider with a husk the size of a black stallion. The head was a flat capsule, full of barbs and serrations, including long legs that berthed a horrifying span. Every angle upon those leg-blades had a series of hooks and talons. The navy abdomen was a crescent, forming the majority of its size and pulsing with a red blood underneath. At the tip of this diabolical head, was a cluster of pearls. The pale eyes of this tainted creature were apathetic orbs; now looking into Drak's fiery crimson ones.

"Spydex," Drak cursed aloud.

Far away in the upcoming intersection, there was a netting of gruesome lines. It was a terrible trap that blocked every exit the riders had. There was no way of going around. No escape.

"It's luring us in," Wardread warned Drak with visions of every other intersection being splayed with webs.

"We'll have to fight this demon," Drak invoked mentally.

"Can you distract him?" she wondered with a fading image of darkness.

"For your black magic? Always..."

The spydex was just ahead, sharpening its talons while waiting for the oncoming riders. Once they had entered the intersection, it would cut a web-line that would cause a net to fall and block off their entrance, encasing them all in an enormous perimeter of abyssal netting.

This spydex had captured thousands of souls, from innocent humans to demonic cranages. Nothing had ever escaped a spydex from its ghostly webs of tangled death. Suffocation. Poison. Rending. Infinite words of cruelty and sadism cannot express the terrorism of a spydex. Whenever a soul is captured, a spydex will slowly descend from the walls and inspire fear into any prey. Only the most fortunate souls are instantly rended and devoured-alive by these arachnids. The last vision the victims see before perishing are their own bodies being ripped to shreds, reflected from a cluster of pearls full of coldness.

Drak was about to perform a maneuver that could get him killed. He locked his front and rear wheels, causing both tires to slide with a screaming skid. His speed was reducing drastically, but the brake-discs began to glow a molten red. The intersection was right there, with a spydex beginning to lower itself from the web-wall. The sickly movements of its legs were enough to cause any living creature's heart to stop. Drak was still traveling at an incredible velocity, because he wanted to get as close as possible to the deadly spydex. There was a moment when Drak's fiery eyes could see into those pearls, which was when a spectacular stunt had been performed...

Drak began to brake with his front wheel. He leaned his body forward while squeezing only the front-brake lever, causing his mount to skid and slightly pour forward. His rear wheel began to rise into the sky as the black current began to flow slower. He already passed the entrance into the intersection, yet the spydex was witnessing a stunt unlike it had ever seen in its immortal life. Drak transferred his bodyweight onto his hands, where he performed a handstand upon the handlebars. His vehicle had completely stopped upon the front wheel, with the rear one slightly wavering in the air. Balance. Seconds passed while Drak slowly lifted his antlers upward to look into the spydex eyes. He could see his incredible stance within those reflective pearls. The molten brake-discs began to cool, losing their redness. Silence. Stasis. Slowly the R1 began to pivot upon the front wheel, revealing the sides of Drak and his engine, like a statue on a rotating plate. Only an infernal discipline could hold this pose long enough to fascinate a demonic spydex. Drak had to turn his head laterally in order to keep his gaze locked into those lustrous eyes. The R1 had rotated perpendicular to the spydex, revealing not only the front, but also the sides of Drak's mount within these spectacular seconds. Only Drak's master would know how long this stance could've been held, but another reflection appeared in the spydex eyes. Wardread had also entered the intersection, but she had just dismounted from her hayabusa; kickstand extended. She was grinning. Drak's rear wheel began to spin violently in the air.

The spydex was too late. It launched a barbed leg-blade towards Drak like a bolt of lightning, yet the R1 had already escaped this poisonous thrust. Before the navy blade had struck, Drak leaned back and slammed his spinning rear-wheel upon the pavement, causing his propulsion to dodge the exploding result of a near-miss talon attack. The tarantula exhumed all of its stored hatred, which was compiled after thousands of years from emotionless murder. All the hooks upon the arachnid's body began to reposition furiously in order to rotate its legs and husk towards the dismounting riders, where Drak had already parked his R1 with kickstand extended.

Here was the new scene, with Drak standing next to his mount with an expression full of fiery apathy. Wardread was still grinning wildly, with her arms hidden under her chained mantle to smooth down her air raked feathers. The spydex swung one of its barbed legs with rage, cutting through several moonlight strands and a streetlamp like an enormous scythe. Fuels trickled away from the severed lamppost as the flame disappeared. A curtain of terrifying tangles began to block the final entrance, enclosing everything within these four walls of weaved wickedness. Every building and fixture had provided countless connections to these pale wires, with infinite degrees of angles. The spydex had let the riders get too close; where no traps were laid. There was going to be a showdown to see who had prepared the real ambush.

Drak roared as he sprinted his thunder clapping hooves towards the spydex. Hailstorms of sharp legs were hurled at the charging devil, but they breached only the road like lightning strikes. The spydex drove one talon after another, ahead of Drak's charging velocity, which would've resulted in a deadly strike if it weren't for a sideways jump-roll the devil performed over the street. Drak landed from his somersault with a strafing sprint. He was beginning to circle the enormous arachnid. The spydex sharpened the knives within its jaw, by rubbing their edges against each other. The sounds caused by relentless teeth-grindings were grotesque, yet to Wardread's surprise, full of recognizable languages full of curses and threats. She began to slowly pace towards the fiery streetlamps, which were black posts channeling with fuels to ignite a glowing fire within the earthglass orbs above. These black posts weren't very high, since infernals insist on torchlight as the perfect form of illumination. The darkness of Ankara glass allows no light, meaning these orbs were as clear as water. Earthglass. She could shatter them and eradicate the light, which was her true enemy. Wardread needed all four lamps destroyed for her dark magic to work; yet only three were standing at this point in time. She gently raised a gathering of her ivory-ridge feathers, with edges sharper than razors. These feathery blades were perfect for throwing like daggers, which she was about to perform with a developed expertise after unlimited years of practice.

Wardread could see the dancing flame within the orb. She grasped a single feather within the tip of her fingers, like an artist holding a quill. Her pace didn't falter as she brought the projectile past her head and then elegantly swung her arm forward while flicking the wrist. The transfer of her hand was sheer finesse as the feather twirled through the air, striking the orb and shattering it to pieces. Broken glass shards stabbed the flame with the darkening energy of a demonic feather, which killed the extinguishing light. Wardread raised another feather in her open palm and eyed another lamppost across the street. She could glimpse Drak's fiery body in the corner of her eye, which danced like flames to elude the cross-slashing limbs of his arachnid opponent.

The spydex was rotating its body like a raging carousal. Every leg-blade of the arachnid had already attempted to thrust and stab the tumbling body of fire, but Drak would jump and flip his body to evade every edge. There once was a drastic challenge to Drak's abilities when the spydex attempted a trip-attack, but the devil planted his clawed hands upon the street to spring himself forward onto his hooves. The spydex swung a longer leg-blade, like a scythe towards the oncoming Drak, yet he performed an incredible leap and hurdled over the deadly swing, while rolling after his landing to avoid a higher cross-slash. Every downward swing from the spydex was a guillotine that crashed behind Drak, yet he'd sprint faster to avoid these earth-splitting slices. On the final overhead chop, Drak would've been struck if he didn't roll backwards over his shoulder upon the black road, tumbling through the guillotine slash. Upon finishing his reversal, he bounced upon his legs and sprinted forward again, hurdling over another spydex leg imbedded in the ground. It was all due to his crimson eyes never leaving the pearl cluster; Drak's peripheral vision had seen all movement the spydex made while the demon's focal vision witnessed all evasions the devil performed. The soul-blood within the arachnid's abdomen was pulsing redder and faster with every missed attack.

During this recent onslaught, Wardread moved toward a corner of the arena that was dangerously close to the web wall. She looked both ways for incoming traffic, like a schoolgirl crossing the street, and then continued her seductive waltz toward the next lamppost. When she reached the middle of the road, her target was perfectly in line for another throw. Once again, Wardread's waltz continued as she gazed at the torch upon the column. In one fluid motion, her left palm raised to her eye-level with a resting feather-dagger on top. She swayed her right backhand across the palm, brushing the feather with a gentle sweep, which caused the raven knife to spin through the air. A dark boomerang flew toward the glowing globe with a slight arc and struck the flame within. Only faint sparkles of broken glass could be seen as the intersection became more enriched with darkness.

With an unknown emotion, the spydex gathered its body upon its two hind legs and splayed the remaining six in the air. First, a triple row of leg blades formed a wall ahead of Drak's path, which caused him to grind his hooves into the road and turn around. However, another wall of razor rows became erected from that direction as well. They were slowly closing in. Drak realized his only escape was to dash directly away from the spydex in order to dodge the closing walls. If he ran directly towards the spydex, Drak's body would've been terribly consumed by those serrated knives within the arachnid's maw. However, the devil noticed those approaching walls of leg blades were slowing their speed. He wouldn't be able to leap over the high rows of legs in either direction, nor were they spaced far enough for him to jump through. If only he could understand why they were moving so slowly. Did the spydex want to sadistically crush its prey with a slow agonizing death? Was this some kind of game? Perhaps the spydex wanted the devil to run directly away and into the web wall? Drak considered his last thought to be the most probable, until he noticed the decreasing speed of these sword layers. They were moving slower, now almost an arm's length away from either direction of Drak's body until they...stopped. Looking straight ahead, the devil could see an enormous eclipse of the arachnid's abdomen, completely infused with a soul red. Closer to Drak's face was a cluster of eyes, more reflective than a bed of pearls. They were paler than a collection of full moons in the sky. Drak could see himself in those countless reflections.

A rack of antlers more midnight than the glass of Ankara was atop the red stag's head. There were two large branches with several barbs emitted from each for a total of 18 points; the sum of triple sixes. Each tine had mercilessly killed from a strict order. Below the antlers were those leaf-like ears that heard the constant screams of tortured souls and prisoners, now reared back against his skull to shutout such noise. Unlike other members of the same species, there was no mane from Drak's head. He had a dark nose above his long mandible; a maw filled with teeth that formed into incising canines. His tempered brows were above those fiery eyes, now crimson orbs thinning into red crescents. His face contained feral features that defied his previous and peaceful existence. There was a sheen of red fur that covered his body, since the day of his birth. His natural color was never lost, but it darkened as it traveled below his vestments. Drak's form was a build of enhanced definitions and defined muscle, yet slim and sleek enough to maintain his lithe composure. He wore a full suit of kevlar armor, heavier and lined with more glass joints than Wardread's. His suit also displayed exterior discs of Ankara glass, placed in scaling formations along his shoulders and spinal column. Black reflections could be seen above the suit of victory red, yet the stored power in his devastating arms and legs were still noticeable. He carried himself upon pronged hooves that moved and clasped like lightning. Finally, there were those hands. His infernal ferocity had grown predatory claws from his fingers, which now proved to be a definition of horror.

Only a small amount of glow from a single torch could illuminate this scene. The spydex had caged its front legs almost around Drak's form, while the hind legs fortified the raging blood within its abdomen. The capsular head of the demon tried to extend anteriorly towards the Devil's body, like a blind torture-keeper attempting to inspect another victim. There were no movements being conducted during this whole standstill, until the quiet whirl of a spinning feather struck the last torch lamp. Pitch black had now scattered the entire battleground.

Wardread's hand was outstretched before her like a maiden expecting a kiss. Her last throw began with the projectile held close to her chest, yet the arm curved downward like a pendulum and upward before release. There was an incredible backspin placed upon the feather as it spun in the air, flying between the combatants and striking the final flame. She watched as Drak jumped backwards and flipped his body through the narrow opening behind him, dodging the clashing cage of the spydex prison. Wardread saw Drak's body straighten as he planted his clawed hands upon the street, allowing his flowing legs to curve toward the ground. Once his hooves struck the pavement, he immediately performed another back handspring to avoid another cross slash of the spydex. When his hooves touched the ground a second time, his inertia was too powerful and his back sank deep into the web wall.

Drak aligned his arms against the sides of his head while he compacted his body. His stance was ready to become crushed within an iron maiden. The spydex jumped forward and caged six leg blades around Drak's body and grasped, shredding some of the web wall in the process. Drak's arms were holding the crushing edges just inches away from the sides of his face, while his lower body braced against the opposing walls. If it weren't for his infernal strength, Drak would've been crushed to death instantly. He could feel the sharp edges burrowing deeper into his armor until they made contact with either glass plates or flesh. Time was running out.

Within the darkness, all devils sense sight with clairvoyance. These infernals use ancient power to witness visions that are not present with mortal senses. Bodies become outlined in burning energies that resemble forms of fire. Every edge of these sights will shine like illuminated amber. The insanity of demons is beyond mortal comprehension, yet it's distinct that souls are visible to them as well. Due to their opposites in polarity, it can be assumed their demonic imagery is in the form of navy outlines, which contains the prey's essence of fright. Natural sight is only a reflection of light. Abyssal vision is a reflection of fear. Infernal vision is a reflection of hatred.

Wardread loved the darkness. She was born into darkness. Slowly, the shadows began to slide along the ground towards her. Her arms were stretched out to her sides, like a mother offering to embrace her children. Shades flowed like water and trickled into her body, flowing upwards when they reached her vicinity. Her wings became imbued with the blackness, filled deeper than midnight. The whole battleground was a looming shade being drawn into a focal point. Wardread's eyes began to flood with a shocking wavelength of dark violet, replacing the lustrous obsidian eyes she had before. Nothing could be more haunting than the grin of insanity upon her face.

"Last chance to run away..." Wardread shouted towards the ignorant spydex.

Drak could feel his blood burning away the corrosive poisons from the leg blades. Along the gripping razors, were edges trickling with quicksilver fluids. Poisons were dripping from the spydex like a drooling hunger, flowing along the ridges into Drak's body. He could feel his molten blood boiling away the poisons to save him. The fiery blood of a devil can never be tainted by anything else. The spydex had attempted to pull Drak's body towards the maw of knives, also pouring with disgusting poisons. As the leg blades pulled, the edges sliced further into Drak's body due to his resistance. If he allowed himself to be pulled closer, his head would be the first to get minced by the spydex jaws. If he resisted too much, his body would be sliced right through any second. Those grinding daggers were less than an arm's length away now. Drak had already let himself be dragged too close. The red garnet was trapped, in a cage of poisoned blades and severed webs. Everything was an embrace of death. Every scythe had somehow bypassed the glass plates in Drak's armor by slashing through and around the kevlar he wore. He knew there was one last thing he could do to prolong his life. He bowed his head from exhaustion and allowed his frame to be pulled closer.

The spydex hadn't eaten in years. It drooled poisons upon Drak's head before running its serrated teeth into the antlers. The knives violently rubbed their edges against the antlers upon Drak's head. Every bite contained enough pressure to crush the strongest earthly steel, yet those antlers could not be shattered. The spydex desperately tried everything to collapse its teeth into Drak's skull. The gripping legs, those eyes of pale moons, all the girth in the abdomen lurching back with each pull. The barbs on its body weren't' enough, for the spydex already tried nuzzling its spines into Drak. His kevlar armor was too thick and glistening with the glass of Ankara for the barbs to work. Although the slicing legs were able to cut through the suit, Drak's body could not be pulled any closer. The spydex tried to bring its teeth below those antlers, but Drak's hands were upright and protecting his head, which blocked everything else. Drak had already defied death a thousand times in this single moment.

Just when Drak thought his life was over; he noticed the sickening streets. The flow of time had drastically slowed as it had before. The wavelength from Wardread had returned. Hearts pulsed slower, sounds were drowned in silence and the forceful cadence of the spydex had vanished. Everything felt submerged underwater; a kind of tainted fluid that makes the landscape grey. Wardread had absorbed the last drop of darkness, which left the terrain without color or light. She blazed with an incredible aura. Her wings were not capable of containing all the darkness they held, which made them seep a glowing navy. Her eyes were flooded with magneta, leaving them opaque like lightless gems. Wardread and Drak's bodies were mutable, yet everything else became immobile. The spydex was frozen in time like a stone statue, covered in a smoky grey. Drak tried to rotate his head to see Wardread, but he was still imprisoned within the statue's jail. Barbed legs caged Drak's body and his antlers were all blocked within the obstinate jaws of the spydex. Drak couldn't move his head even an inch, being locked in those teeth of stone. He closed his eyes and desperately sent a message to Wardread.

"Please run away..." he mentally invoked to her.

Although Wardread's wings were still bound by those chains, she could still use her razor feathers to slice through the web-wall and flee for her life. Drak painted a perfect image to Wardread that stated this request. If she survived, then Drak's final order would've been fulfilled. More importantly, Wardread's entity would still exist. That's all that mattered to Drak. He would've dove into the mouths of countless arachnids in order to keep Wardread alive.

Wardread felt those feelings from Drak, which made her grin of insanity fade away. It was replaced by a gentle smile, like the ones people have when given a gift. Her legs were together and her frame was tall like a spire. Her red vestments shimmered slightly, radiating the navy auras around her wings. She began to drift upwards into the air, being carried by lingering shadows around her body. She looked at all her targets, being exceptionally careful to avoid Drak with her magic. Her body couldn't quarantine the darkness for any longer than a minute; she'd collapse from suffocation otherwise. Her Pinnacle attack was ready. Wardread's final words before the apocalypse were the same ones she used every time, "Now we see who's scary..."

She cried like the Valkyries. Her voice echoed infinitely throughout the city. Time flowed again. The spydex let go of Drak's antlers and rotated its cluster of eyes toward Wardread. A hailstorm. Black icicles flew into the eyes of the spydex, chipping and shattering the pearls. Blind. Drak's body was thrown aside as the spydex swung its piercing legs everywhere. Those leg blades became struck by thousands of razors. Millions of quills became lodged into the abdomen, shattering the glowing vial of lifeblood. Although the spydex attempted to flee, the countless hailstones of dark ice began to cut off its legs. Before the doomed creature could move another step, all the legs on one side were violently sawed away, causing its body to roll over helplessly. The ice stoning continued, pummeling the carapace until the bone ruptured away. Flesh and lifeblood vaporized from its body. The tortured creature could feel its soul fading away.

Wardread constantly launched millions of icy-black hailstones, each a small and deadly icicle with enough power to strike through any living creature. Her control was as lost as the storm she conducted. Wardread couldn't hold back anything. It was all due to her wavelength that absorbed the darkness like a whirlpool before her icy soul had frozen the liquid coal. She channeled everything from her hands and wings, feeling an oppressive force being exerted on her frame as she discharged the tempest. Her hands felt like they held a cyclone, which she constantly felt rushing away and refilling from her arms. She redirected her storm towards the web walls, causing each of them to fall to the ground like curtains being torn away. The distant towers were violently struck, causing stone shrapnel and red glass to shatter. In Wardread's face was the look of a gale gone out of control. Insanity.

She saw the thousands of cranages perched in the towers above, many too late in their attempt to fly away. Her dark hailstorm rained upwards, striking hundreds of them until their bodies dissolved. The buildings rained with feathers and blood. Dozens of corpses began to fall from even the lightest strikes of Wardread's relentless attack.

"That's right...fly away!!" Wardread shouted as she removed the wings from multitudes of these demonic vultures.

Some wingless cranages began to fall helplessly to their deaths, each of their bodies exploding upon contact with the dark cement. Their ivory wings had become torn away by the millions of quills from Wardread's black magic. Others crashed into the sides of the towers, like birds flying blindly. Wardread spared no mercy for these foul cranages, because she wanted payback for the horrible barricades they erected earlier. Dozens of cranage warriors even dared to swoop down with glistening wings and ivory swords drawn, in a pitiful attempt to strike Wardread down. The icy shrapnel stabbed most of their bodies before they entered the intersection. There were terrible abrasions along the street as the flyers skidded across the landscape from their speed, while their swords dropped and spun wildly until they shattered upon the ground. Miraculously, some of the cranages survived the fall without their wings. Less than ten of them were able to rise from the ground in an attempt to limp away upon their talons. With dulling nails they carved against the roadside. Others were only able to draw their last breath after the fall.

After the last of the cranages flew away, Wardread finally halted her vicious attack. The hailstorm ceased and her eyes lost their glow while returning to shiny obsidian. It rained stone and black water for seconds on end, until dead silence. Her body suddenly felt warmer, but she released a cold vapor from her hands and wings. She was lowered to the ground and her legs folded. Her hands planted on the black road as she knelt down from exhaustion, breathing heavily with eyes closed. The armor on her body had become slightly shredded. Although she wanted to unfold her wings, she could still feel the rattling restrictions of those glass chains still attached. Her wings had regained their raven blackness, being drained of all the darkness she absorbed. She could hear the sounds of ice thawing and melting into liquid shadow. Wardread slightly opened her eyes and saw the flowing shades return home. Every wall within the intersection retrieved a nightshade. The ground was slowly painted black as the dark fluids poured over the lifeless greys. Small droplets of shades were trickling from all the corpses as the icicles melted and rippled across the street, returning exactly to wherever they were drained from.

Wardread weakly began to laugh. She raised her head into the skies and exhaled the sounds of madness. Her mind was full of thoughts about the current exhibition.

"You wanted a show? Now you've seen everything..." she whispered to all the cranage corpses.

Her sights traveled up and down the streets, looking at the post-apocalypse. There were small beads of shadow, still flowing toward the patches of gray along the ground. Those black waters moved like living organisms as they skittered from the shredded flesh of pearly ivory and navy. The ground contained fissures and cracks from fallen boulders and red-stained glass. Even a distant building was leaning on a slight slant from the structural damage done to its integrity. Scraps of web and broken lamppost were strewn along the landscape as well. Wardread never laughed so loud when she saw R1 and hayabusa across the street, both still erected upon their kickstands. Although a film of black dust with bits of broken glass had showered over them, they looked completely undamaged. The silence returned as the dark angel's laughter slowly waned.

Wardread pressed her hands against the ground and unfolded her legs to stand. She felt like an angelic statue coming to life against the amber sky. Her body was a dark silhouette in the center of this unnatural disaster. She felt a small image begin to form in the back of her mind. It was a faded gem, full of cracks and scratches. The glow was very weak.

"Drak..." Wardread whispered to herself.

She frantically looked around. Her body was spinning wildly as she glimpsed the hundreds of corpses and fallen debris. She suddenly felt lost.

"Drak?" the fallen angel called more loudly.

Panic. Her frame wandered throughout the intersection as she followed the faint glow of her mental icon. It was fading. Wardread couldn't open her eyes wide enough to see all the ruination. She began to walk towards the source of her mind message that inspired her with fear.

"Drak! Where are you?" Wardread cried like a lost child.

She moved with her arms wavering at her sides, like a sophisticated woman trying not to lose her balance. She was being careful not to step on any glass or sharp stones with her bare feet. Nothing was helped as her vision began to blur. Wardread's sight began to liquefy as tears flooded her eyes. She cried with pain as her feet began to step on some of the shrapnel.

"I wish I could fly..." Wardread whimpered to herself as she nearly tripped.

The only sounds were the ghostly footsteps being emitted from Wardread's feet. She moved slowly to partially avoid the gravel along the war-torn ground. A thin trail of blood was being left behind as she lingered her march across the intersection, towards the massive husk of the spydex. Inside the abdomen of the arachnid, was an emptying vial of lifeblood that continued to pour. Before the fallen angel could rest her hands on the side of this severed monster, she saw the vial completely empty and extinguish into darkness upon the street. There was an unmistakable spasm from one of the spydex's leg blades as death claimed the demonic creature. Wardread looked all over and around the devastated limbs of the spider demon, yet the fallen angel still couldn't find the body of her protector.

The silence was deafening. A terrible accumulation began to form within Wardread with mixtures of fear and sadness. She was alone in this desolation. Her mind flooded with thoughts about death and hatred, bringing her further away from sanity than she'd ever been. Her wings were still bound together, causing mental disorders that escalated her mind beyond redemption. The silence added to her instability, like the swarms of bodies and death that surround her being.

Wardread screamed into the heavens, "Where are you? You goddamned deer!"

She felt a strong pulse in her mind. It was a cracked gem that glowed brighter than ever. Her glance shifted into that direction, towards the side of a building. There was a red vestment that glittered with dark glass under a pile of rubble and severed cranage bodies.

Although her feet picked up more broken shards than before, Wardread never flinched as she ran towards Drak. The red garnet in Wardread's mind had a low glow. She raced to the pile and immediately started to pull the stones away, lifting the heavier bricks with both her hands. Drak was barely visible under the shattered remains of cranage corpses and fallen wreckage. There were small droplets of shadow that flowed away from his body as Wardread frantically threw the rocks behind her. Finally, Drak's face could be seen; his eyes were closed. His body was as slashed as the image of the red garnet, still hovering in the back of their minds.

"Wake up," Wardread showered her body upon his.

Her formations were of raven feathers around the gem. Drak's body bled of a molten blood, which cauterized his wounds and burned away the poisons he was injected with before. Although his blood still flowed, he was no longer dreaming. No telepathic bond could be made with him.

"You're not dead Drak," Wardread beaconed to him.

His red armor was discolored from dust. There were hundreds of perforations against his chest, where Wardread's hailstorm had stuck him. More splits had formed along Drak's sleeves, where he held his strength against the spydex. A faint glowing of magma was streaming away from his arms and legs. Almost every inch of his kevlar armor was ruined. Wardread began to run her hands along his earthly fur, feeling countless scratches and molten blood. She began to stroke gently, trying to inspire life into him. His circulation was weak.

"Your blood won't burn me..." Wardread whispered as she slowly brought her face close to his.

The fallen angel noticed the hundreds of punctures along Drak's armor. Although he had been struck by Wardread's black magic, Drak was still alive because of the glass of Ankara he wore. He had protected his face from the storm with his arms, like he did against the spydex.

If only his blood would circulate again...

Perhaps all angels will always contain a drop of goodness. Even though Wardread had a blacker heart than even the cruelest of demons, she still had one. She began to channel a power that made her eyes close. Her tears streamed lines of black shadow as she shivered. She brought her body as close to Drak as possible, leaning down along his side with her hands resting on his sleeping face. He would awaken if his blood flowed again. Wardread opened her eyes, which were full of an opaque violet that could be seen by the blind.

===============================================================

Daylight. Trees. Earth. Those eyes couldn't blink. Her face was on the side, staring with those blue eyes of sapphire. They were like the skies. The tears she shed were like waterfalls, flowing into pools of blood. She had drawn her last breath while looking toward her standing son. The youth was confused. Weak. Naked. He needed to be near her. She was dead.

A looming shadow began to cover him. He looked back and saw the slayer. Pronged hooves were placed into the ground and burrowing. Stillness, like the color of the leaves, was above those black and lustrous hooves. Tapers of muscle and scale were running from the legs. There was a tail of spines and barbs, latching into the earth. Blood flowed from every spike. Hundreds.

Claws were extended from each hand. Drips were falling from those massive gauntlets, scaled finely with perfect symmetry. The arms were about to burst with power. Leathery wings formed the mantle. Those ridges burned a molten blue; connected at the back of the towering obelisk. Those wings would fan terror into those who looked.

The face had a diamond chin, fenced with barbs. The expression was grim and full of malice. The eyes were solar eclipses; black pearls with amber outlines. They burned like fire. They sank deep within the monstrous face. Ridges of ivory were lining the brows, locked into a permanent expression of anger and hatred. The horns flowed backward, glistening a glossy sheen, no different than those fiery eyes.

The wind blew. The child fell down. The tower raised as the child lowered. He stared at the dragon with his ocean eyes, full of innocence and confusion. There were no words. Only silence and stillness filled the forest. Blood. Death. Countless animals were slain in every direction; their bodies were scratched and torn. The devil took a step towards the boy...

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Drak awakened. Molten currents began to seep from his rends. The circulation within his body was raging as Wardread amplified his powers, causing fiery blood to pour from every wound. Once the infernal fluids made contact with air, they cooled and sealed all fissures to stop the bleeding. The new flesh would sculpt itself in a matter of minutes. Those deep rends within the telepathic gem were filling themselves, like a red crystal being created under intensified time. Wardread was running her hands deeply into Drak's body, smoothing the sculpting steel over every slash. She was in total control the spreading, like a sculpture-artist working with fractured metal. It was at this time that Drak opened his crimson eyes and saw the glare from Wardread's magneta ones. Her lips were pressed deep into the stag's maw, sealing their mouths as she breathed into him. Their eyes felt like they'd clash. The devil panicked as he shuddered against this demonic embrace, yet the demon tightened her grip, which caused the molten currents to flood from Drak's body even faster. Nothing can be compared to the light of Wardread's wavelength. Her inflaming soul was powerful enough to imbue a universe, yet Drak was less than an inch away from this radiance. Warmth and lure were all that Drak could feel from his lips, being drawn towards Wardread as she massaged more vigorously. She wouldn't end her seal if time allowed it. Wardread had placed her arms behind Drak's head, pulling him deeper into her soul-pool and soaking his lips with ecstasy.

Just when the last engraving upon the red garnet was filled, the image of the gemstone had become a definition of clarity. Every edge gleamed as the angel ignited the forging fires of Drak's emblem. Drak was restored. He placed his clawed hands onto Wardread's shoulders and pressed. The female demon resisted by tightening her arms around the male devil's body. She grinned with her head reared backwards by the force. There was a ferocious image of embracing arms beginning to slide away from smooth crystal, as Drak mentally demanded Wardread to let go of him. Slowly those arms began to untwine from the flaming frame, as he pressed harder. At last the violet wavelength abandoned those eyes and they became black again like an empty universe, as Wardread flew backwards onto her feet.

"Be fortunate that you're stronger than me," the archangel depicted with clashing orbs of crimson and violet.

"You nearly killed me," Drak returned with a terrifying image of black hailstones against a red garnet.

"My black magic fails against the glass..." Wardread formed a dark shield in front of Drak's crystal image within the mental storm.

"What in hell was that last spell?" the devil demanded aloud with primal rage in his voice.

The dark angel made a painting of the abyss. There were black stalagmites and frozen vapors emitted from countless souls with eyes of pearls. They were all surrounding Wardread in preparation for an attack that would rend her body to pieces. Swords, claws and teeth were in every direction. As they began to slowly close, there was an incredible storm. A tempest flowed from Wardread in this depiction, which rained from her hands and wings towards the demons. Nothing survived the blizzard of black hailstones that were continually launched from Wardread's frame. Her wings fanned wider and allowed even greater release of this helix. The demons saw their own bodies dissolve whenever they entered the blizzard for even a second. Swords were dropped and maws were filled with the shadow rocks. A black energy current was continually flooding into Wardread's body as she channeled the hurricane from her wings and hands. Her eyes never glowed with such a dangerous violet, her grin even more so. In the end, all that remained was a statuesque angel, surrounded by fallen corpses and weaponry. Navy and ivory was all that remained in serrated scatters, which is the groundwork of the landscape. Wardread contributed to the sanctuary of the abyss with her black magic. She looked upwards and flew from the ground with a cry of the valkyries.

"Nightinghail," Wardread finally answered.

"Now...I demand you carry me this instant!" Wardread said aloud with a grin and arms outstretched.

Drak looked down upon the desolate streets, noticing the horrible glass fragments and sharp rocks scattered along the ground. The dark angel raised her arms forward like she was about to receive a gift. The devil placed his hands on some larger rocks and pushed his body into a stance, like a king emerging from his throne. There was a significant pause as Drak spent some time to brush the dust off his jacket and arrange his sleeves and collars. Even while wearing a suit of armor, torn and ravaged beyond recognition, there was still a significant amount of decency to be offered after the devil rearranged his guise. The suit was blacker than ever, due to the Ankara that shimmered through the countless perforations and large cuts along the torso and arms.

The devil carried the demon; holding her with by placing his arms behind her back and under her legs. Those wings and chains were very obstructive, yet he was still able to remain stable; even as his hooves crushed glass and rocks with each step he took. This devil never looked upon the ground as he marched forward, feeling the vibrations of every corpse and stone besides his hammering feet. Wardread stared up at her carrier with a slight grin and lazy eyes, invoking mental paintings of the entire apocalypse she created. Upon reaching the vehicles, slightly slanted upon their kickstands, Drak lowered the lightweight angel to her feet upon a small patch of clean ground. She smoothed down her feathers and plucked a longer, softer quill from her wing and began dusting her hayabusa's seat and console display. Drak simply wiped his R1 clean with his palm, flicking away bits of glass as he blew the dust off his display. There was a quick check to see if no fluids were leaking and all tires were still intact before saddling his mount. Some of the infernal numerals within the tachometers were illegible, due to the spatters of blood that sprayed onto the machines from fallen demons.

Drak felt a tickle in his antlers and slowly rotated his lowbrows to see the source. Wardread was lightly brushing her feather across the obsidian antlers, like a maid working for a noble. The devil never displayed any emotion as he slowly rotated an expression of callousness back to the anterior position. Within moments, the mounts were ignited and carefully ridden across the ruination while carefully dodging the sharper shrapnel. The final sounds in this barren sector were echoes of distant engine-grinds as the riders pulled away.

-Part 1 Completed-

Dedicated to Kodayu