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WARDREAD'S CHARIOT PART 2

© By Raid The Revenge

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

Adults only.

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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-Part 2-

Everything was being witnessed with an orb of Ankara. Monstrous gauntlets with blacker nails than the orb itself, were grasping the glass that displayed this race. Everything was going according to plan, yet there were scratches engraved upon the sphere during the launch of Wardread's Nightinghail attack. Anger quivered within the grip as the gazer observed his towers being razed and obliterated within that intersection. Decades of time were required to erect those monuments of power, now with their broken glass along the street. It was all collateral damage to prevent the demons from waging war, yet those hundreds of cranage corpses were enough to satisfy the anger for now. Drak was performing his duties with the beholder's utmost satisfaction. Like always. Although these riders would soon reach the northern ridge of the city, their skills would be put to the test one last time beforehand. They must succeed. They must receive their rewards.

"I shall prepare a messenger for them," the infernal spoke with an image of the red garnet and raven feather together.

Visions of gold, gemstones and pearls of Ankara were filling a red gauntlet and looming towards the emblems of Drak and Wardread. The red garnet was placed upon a platinum pedestal by the scaled hands, which rose higher after time elapsed. It was a symbol of Drak's promotion he would receive that escalated higher than any other level; spare one. At this rate, it would require only years before Drak would rise to a plane as high as the dark tower that ruled them all.

"Then the trophy shall be awarded," the infernal continued with a dream of the sword.

A scarlet sheath contained a crescent, with a long hilt etched with diamond formations. No earthly elements were used for the creation of this infernal weapon; it was cooled with molten lava like the waters in a tempering pool. The trophy bearer will need to be someone the master trusted. He continued to gaze through the scrying sphere with the fading image of the prizes.

"The demons must not wage war upon us..." he ended while staring into his dark globe.

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After turning throughout the mirroring city and arriving back on course, the riders prepared themselves for another possible ambush. It would be suicide to drive at maximum speed; therefore Drak took point ahead of the angel while traveling across the black plane. He would telepathically instruct her to perform whatever evasion required as they propelled straight through the center street. Thus far, nothing could be seen except for the hierarchical towers, each being wrapped in laces of red glass. An amber smog was draping the sky, where only glimpses of the sun shone through. There were thin wraiths of wispy smoke that flowed beneath the atmosphere, like strands from incense that all smelt of ash. Besides the sounds of cycling engines and wailing souls from the tortured, nothing else was inspiring death.

Their wheels were cyclones along the concrete. No land on this earthly planet is darker than the rushing current within this infernal city, which was flowing towards these racers. The R1 looked like a single entity, as Drak's body was leaning down and close to his fuel tank. His crimson eyes dissolved the airstreams that would normally sting a rider's eyes. Although his small windshield was made of a watery earthglass, it was crafted with vigilant precision. Every contour along the frame was slicing through oncoming air to eliminate resistance. A fiery red luminosity was reflected onto his face as he counted those infernal numerals to maintain perfect engine rotation. The display was a clear panel of glowing wheels and digits, burning like clockwork as a slow needle rotated from the circle center. At this speed, Drak would surely have to fight the air resistance that applied to those antlers upon his head. There were countless reflections that shifted along his glimmering mount, streaming with lights from torches that were passed by.

Wardread had also lowered herself down, while tightening her raven wings to increase velocity. Although her wings were bound behind her back, she still felt like she was flying. It was an incredible form of flight she had never experienced before. Wardread closed her obsidian eyes as she felt the energies of the wind flow through her body. Moments later, her eyes reopened with a wide beacon of lilac. The air currents had given the fallen angel a warning.

The devil felt a mental impulse being laced with chained feathers. He glanced behind to see the trailing angel for guidance. He felt an image drawn on a dark canvas; swellings were forming upon the empty street ahead. Small cracks had arisen in the concrete, with prominences lifting higher from the ground. A force was being exerted from underneath the road and forming fractures. Once the infernal streets at the forefront had burst; a true nightmare emerged. Disfigured claws upon five-pointed hands had reached from their ambush, causing the infernal concrete to collapse. Arms coated in quills of onyx had erected from the crumbling ground.

"Scarax attack!" Wardread projected to Drak.

The stag looked ahead and saw an army of spines growing out of the runway. The future tarmac became a violent display of terror, as more claws emerged like rampant thorns and spread across the tainted street ahead. Lustrous quills had splayed along the ground as glimmers of navy blue began to glow from the holes. It would only be seconds before these burrowing demons would fully emerge, intercepting the riders before they'd pass.

"We'll drive through them!" the devil roared ahead.

Wardread's mind began to flood with fiery engravings. Hundreds of red laces were drawn instantly by Drak's power. Each line was an angle, numbered with infernal numerals to calculate a degree. These inscriptions were enough to give Wardread an instant procedure to dodge the erupting claws ahead. She immediately pressed both front and rear brakes on the hayabusa, with a slight reprieve on each lever. Although the wheels didn't lock, it's impossible to turn a single two-wheeled file while braking at the same time. With this new reduction in speed, Wardread's mount would gain maneuverability. Her timing was perfect as she released both brakes while heading straight towards the ground claws. Drak leaned his bodyweight left while Wardread dropped her form to the right, each rider strafing their vehicle and aligning to go between the fissures ahead. Once the hayabusa veered enough, Wardread slung her body on the other side of her mount, which recovered her trajectory. She drove straight and passed between the fissures in the ground, dodging the black quills by mere inches.

Just when the howling engines flew past the flailing claws, a scarax leapt from the ground. Thin trails of dark-dust whispered in the air and revealed the subterranean demon, with more background movement occurring by other forms rising in a similar style. Layers of glittering azure were draped over their stony bodies, containing superior strength and flashing speed within each limb of spines. These demons carried themselves upon sturdy legs of bipedal power, with tapering greaves towards sickled claws on each of their feet. Their lifebloods radiated with rage within their slim abdominal cores, imbedded with sinew of plated steel, fueling them with a powerful energy to burrow within the flesh of the abyss. Each scarax could move their arms faster than lightning while shooting fists and barbs to shatter the earth. If a scarax were to strike into flesh with their claws of agate, those riffling spines would latch onto their hopeless victims. Only a cluster of pearls would be the last vision seen before death, lodged deep within the navy ivory skull of an impassive scarax. Many bloodstained barbs and serrations flowed from their gladiator helmets, forever fastened to their heads in scaling layers. Each scarax has a thinly developed upper body in comparison to their muscular thighs and tails full of girth. Minerals they collected from the terrain underground had forged reinforced skeletons on the outside of their navy bodies, forming plates of unholy armor in random shifts. The more a scarax burrows, the more they feed upon the earth like a parasite, draining away life both torturously slow and mercilessly rapid. Mortal souls were fed upon this way, in manners more misshapen.

They hunched their bodies low and began to run with their large velociraptor legs, propelling their bodies toward the riders and following those sounds of engine grinds. The streets were filled with the mutilated footprints of each scarax's talon, digging deep within the road for traction as they pursued Wardread and Drak. Six fiery cores were burning altogether; each one a heart within the abdominals of these scarax hunters as they ran faster like navy comets with trailing tails. The speed displayed by these chasing scarax's was accelerating at an alarming rate, causing their abdominal cores to glow brighter with every road-wound created. It would only be a matter of time before they'd reach Drak and kill him, allowing Wardread to win the race.

Due to his infernal nature, the devil always kept a constant eye on his rearview mirrors. He knew when anything would attempt to sneak-up behind him, like the following scarax's that were there now. They were charging like a pack of savage monsters, no more than a stone's throw away behind Wardread, who directly followed Drak's trail. His infernal eyes went wide, full of glaring crimson, as he viewed his speedometer.

200 KM per hour.

"Faster!" Drak roared with images of fiery clockwork and needles turning clockwise.

Their mounts slightly lifted at the front while screaming. The black current began to flow towards them at a blinding rate, creating a shimmering effect like water. Wardread brought her body low to cut away air resistance while tightening her raven wings. Drak folded his body low against his mount just as well, while shifting gears upward to calm his shrieking engine on a lower note. With another peek at his speedometer, Drak's increase in speed was horrific as he realized the scarax's hadn't departed from his rearview mirror.

240 KM per hour.

"Satan!" the devil cried in vain.

Drak strafed his trajectory slightly to the right, which granted Wardread an opening straight ahead. If the raven-winged angel were to accelerate now, she'd fly with an unholy intensity by her turbocharged hayabusa. She understood the new gesture from Drak, seeing his ride pull slightly to the side at this frightening velocity. However, there was a hesitation...

"I can't ride alone," Wardread showed the devil with scenes of every danger she dodged.

"Yes you can," Drak screamed as the towers ahead moved towards them in an infernal unison.

"I don't have my wings!" the angel screamed with fear.

"You're the best rider I've ever known!" Drak retaliated.

The angel gasped when the last remark flowed through her mind. She never saw a vision so perfectly drawn with finesse. In her mind, Drak instantly drew every instruction with an infernal discipline and displayed every angle, degree and number. There were fiery engravings of engines, fluids and mechanical clockworks that displayed every piece of her vehicle. Wardread had been trained a lifetime of knowledge within these mere seconds. In the end, Wardread saw a raven feather dipped into a fountain of red ink, and then complete the Japanese calligraphy of the hayabusa.

"Now go!" Drak shouted.

Wardread accelerated while knowing the scarax ambush was very near. She propelled faster than the cosmos as she passed Drak, who looked like a stationary rider as he slowed down. Wardread knew the scarax ambush was after Drak, which meant she was given the chance to escape by his purposeful deacceleration. The devil purposely applied both brakes to slide himself into the chasing horde. With this luring done on purpose, a scarax raised both claws and splayed countless quills from its arms. The lifeblood from its abdomen never glowed so red as it was about to pounce upon Drak's frame. The devil constantly looked back at the six-scarax runners that carved deep lacerations within the road, now just an R1's length away from these leg-pounding chasers; their clusters of milky eyes reflecting the figure of Drak upon his mount, with his hoof just lightly against the rear-brake lever. If Drak were to suddenly stop at this point, those amber teeth being both long and thin within the jaws of these terrifying scarax's would devour him instantly. Their slim waists were curved low and glowing red, plated with random scales that flowed to those massive haunches, pumping furiously to maintain their supernatural speed. Each scarax was shuffling their arm-quills while raising their claws high, for a readying downslash when Drak fell into their reach. The demons kept revolving their bodies around each other in a craving pattern as each was hoping to be the first to devour the devil that was drifting in. Drak sank his R1 within their reach...

After Drak saw the amber in their claws, one scarax jumped like a massive velociraptor with talons soaring. In response the devil accelerated fully upon his diamond engine, which screamed the highest note of vigor. The front of the R1 lifted while Drak stood upon his foot-pegs with balancing hooves. His acceleration was so great; the sudden burst of speed caused this pouncing scarax to fall short with its attack, causing a long slash into the road before it tripped. There was a violent tumble from the scarax as it rolled over its head and scratched frantically in the air. The others veered and jumped over this scrambling mound before it faded out of sight. The other five pursuers were still behind Drak, but their speed was decreasing rapidly as the devil accelerated faster. Drak was able to brush his right hoof over the rear brake to bring the front of his R1 down, like a knight calming a panicking horse. The R1 changed pitch as Drak shifted up and accelerated, creating a further gap between the pursuers and himself.

260 KM per hour.

Drak glimpsed his rearview mirror and noticed the trailing scarax monsters were fading out of sight. He lowered his body and looked ahead at the oncoming current through his earthglass windshield while searching for Wardread. She was a small beacon in the distance ahead, propelling herself with a speed that rivaled meteors in the skies. Wardread had shifted into her sixth gear; the maximum a hayabusa allowed. Her mount was howling furiously, even with the tuned gearbox infernally adjusted for perfect synchronization. Those unholy numerals in her clockwork-display slowly escalated until her peak performance had been reached; even with an engine built with traces of diamond dust and Ankara. The engine was beginning to burn an enormous amount of fuel mixture, even with its special combination of devil blood and earthly oil. The hayabusa had reached its maximum engine performance as the tachometer's needle was at the end of the script. Wardread had reached her maximum speed, which was forseen by the glass needle pointing at the highest numeral inside her speedometer.

400 KM per hour.

Wardread had never traveled so fast in her immortal lifetime without her wings. If she were to describe this moment, her arms were growing tired from holding onto the bars so tightly. She felt stress build upon her body, as the wind pressed like the vibrations of a barely controllable power. No mortal could carve a road as perfectly flat at the one she now rode upon, full of dark depths that would kill on contact. She knew her body would've fallen apart if she were a mortal being placed against this deadly amount of stress; as they truthfully have done before. Her entity screamed like an adjacent shooting star, complete with a rushing windstorm afterwards. Her sights were outlined in the same violet wavelength those eyes showed, displaying the bloods of hatred combined with the navy fears of blue. Her mind searched for Drak, but he was no longer a red gem in her thoughts. Even at this exhilarating speed, she realized nothing could be more fulfilling than Drak's presence. Wardread began to brush both her brakes, shifting down with perfect conduction. Desperately she looked in both her rearview mirrors to gain sight of him. It felt like she was braking forever until a figure was revealed. Before her muscles could relax from the ease of tension, a warning of flames erupted into her mind from Drak...

Wardread immediately leaned her body to the right, rotating the handlebars with the same degree. The hayabusa curved with a perfect sweep as it turned just in time, away from a collapsing earthquake that erupted up ahead. The devil followed with his own turning technique; the same he imparted to Wardread beforehand. It was a terrible trap that almost worked. Another band of scarax's erupted from the crevice that just split from the street, which would've swallowed the riders had they not turned in time. Those demonic quills shook violently, ridding clouds of black dust that had gathered by their digging throughout the infernal streets. In the center of this intersection, stood a squad of nine more demons, with their claws of agate slashing into the air at the passing riders.

More than ever, the riders needed to accelerate at the midpoint of their turns. Each of the nine scarax's looked into the skies and released a tormenting wail, a sound of stress on metal before shattering. These voices had formed after countless years of ingesting the earth, including steel and stone. Almost instantly afterwards, a series of shadows flickered over the riders, which caused Drak to look overhead at the aerial demons in these shattered heavens. Cranages had flown between the towers and brought terrifying obstacles within their arms and legs, drifting with their powerful wingspans of navy. There were countless wingtips stained with blood and vulturous faces full of serrated barbs as each cranage flew over the riders, now leading ahead of Drak and Wardread's path. There was no end to the flow of overhead cranages as they flew toward the future horizon directly ahead of the riders. The devil expected these aerial demons to prepare another barricade, but instead he heard an avian shriek as a monstrous challenge fell from these foul cranages. Hundreds of bricks and stones were dropped onto the road. A deadly labyrinth formed by steel beams and shattered spires became rained across the runway, where the riders were just about to cross. Before Drak could consider bringing his R1 to a stop, he noticed in each of his rearview mirrors the nine scarax's began their pursuit. If the devil couldn't navigate through the deadly maze fast enough, nothing could imagine the horror of being torn alive by myriads of amber claws, quills and teeth.

"Behold my skills!" Wardread brought into Drak's mind with images of branded fire-lines.

Drak was very impressed. He saw mental outlines that burned through the gaps ahead, which flowed flawlessly around every shrapnel and boulder. Drak strafed onto the left side of his runway while Wardread veered to her right; they would divide the road between themselves and ride through the tangle. The devil nearly smiled when he noticed some of the lines, which were telepathically given to him from Wardread, were flowing over some of the smaller debris. Just before the riders performed their first swerve, they quickly glanced at each other with nods of encouragement before a boulder passed between their gazes and blocked their link.

Drak always looked directly where he wanted to ride, between those countless rocks and stones. His arms flexed with tension, as he pressed hard into each handlebar for these turns. His body fiercely leaned alternately right and left, strafing his mount to dodge a sharp brick and later to avoid a colossus of stone wrapped in razor wire. He never took his eyes off the clean patches of ground, where his R1 rode over. He threshold braked and released, leaning right to avoid a spill of gravel, than left to evade a pane of red glass. Although his upper body quickly became tired, there was no second of rest as the scarax's began to jump over the wreckage the stag passed. The R1 roared on a low note as Drak pulled in the clutch to cut away the power. He applied both brakes at the same time, bringing his mount dangerously close to a pursuing scarax. Drak deeply accelerated while reengaging the clutch to ride over a thin beam of steel. The R1's front wheel climbed over the alloy while Drak stood on his footpegs, which allowed the rear wheel to follow as well. Just after this astonishing maneuver had been performed, the trailing scarax failed to notice the ground-girder and tripped, sliding its body along the street through sharp glass and shrapnel before colliding into a pile of metal thorns. The stag leaned right to elude a ruined lamppost, then an even harder right to barely dodge a shattered earthglass orb at the end. With another swift lean to the left, Drak swerved from a pillar and felt a slight chafe against his front fairing; a near miss. The windshield chipped and cracked before Drak leaned right again to clear a patch of deadly oil, which glimmered with slickness. Another scarax crashed through the earlier pillar, losing orientation slightly before regaining its speed, while a second ran across the oil patch. No slipping occurred. It was all due to those talons that burrowed into the street for maximum grip on the road.

Wardread had less maneuverability than the R1, however she noticed the scarax ambush was all heading for Drak. There were fewer obstacles on her side of the road, meaning these demons were literally hell-bent in killing the devil. The fallen angel noticed a long straightaway ahead of her, which gave her time to release her left clutch-lever to pull a dark raven feather from her wing. She held the quill like a professional knife thrower while taking a moment to witness the amazing stunts Drak performed. Her left arm raised high as she veered her hayabusa closer to the pack of chasing scarax's, which were almost upon the devil by now. There wasn't a second to spare as Drak weaved tightly through more dangerous obstacles like concrete posts and steel struts. Wardread was less than ten paces away from a scarax, which ran like a predatory beast upon its bipedal legs of barbs and talons, before Wardread windmilled her arm down and released the spinning feather. The shadowy razor sliced vertically through the air currents before imbedding into the scarax's thigh with a sickening stab, just above the kneecap. A spew of black blood sprayed in the air as the demon wailed in pain, its lifeblood pulsing a bright red within the navy abdominal core. This injured scarax fell forward and slammed its gladiatorial head into the rushing street, causing its body to roll violently like a tumbling boulder. Quills snapped off its arms against stone fragments and its thin upper arms grasped the wounded area above the knee where black blood poured rapidly. Those long and thin facial teeth never clenched so hard together as the wounded demon slew along the street on its plated back. The incapacitated demon skidded slower along the road before being jumped over by another uncaring scarax.

Drak could see the clusters of white eyes in his rearview mirrors. He had no time to stare as he swerved right to avoid a final pile of jagged bones before he finished the maze. His antlers quickly rotated to notice Wardread right along side of him, allowing their eyes to gaze into each other. The devil shined with a burning crimson while Wardread flared a violet stare. Drak displayed an infernal smile before he accelerated while shifting up, resulting in a blazing upsurge from the R1's engine. The hayabusa screamed in a high pitch while Wardread conducted the same maneuver, causing her mount to slightly lift at the front. This pair of riders, who passed the deadly labyrinth, left behind every surviving scarax. As the two riders prepared for a left turn to head north again, the scarax hunters stopped and screamed into the skies with agony from their results of failure, before slamming their lightning claws into the concrete ground in a sort of unemotional anger. Each scarax had a fading red glow in their core, since they spent all their energies throughout the chase. There was a brief pause, allowing them to recharge slightly, before they began clawing and punching the street. Their haunches bent low as their fists flurried into the concrete, like a supernatural hammer. Each blow was as powerful as a lightning strike, causing shrapnel and rocks to erupt into the skies before clouds of dust concealed the pack of scarax hunters. After the thunderous pulses ceased and the black dust cleared, there were only holes left in the ground that lead to the burrowing tunnels of each digging demon.

Just before the riders were about to turn at the next intersection, they braked and reduced their speed before leaning. Their forms were symmetrical in style as they stood on the footpegs and sank their bodies off the left side. Wardread was on the outside of this turn, which gave her more time and less stress to prepare. Drak's left kneepad sank into the dark depths, making contact into the road with a glass disc of Ankara on the outside of his leg armor. His arms pressed into the handlebars in an attempt to turn the vehicle toward the right, which equalized counter-steer. Both riders slowly brought their bodies back into the upright position, like the calming of a storm. Then they heard the siren...

A piercing alarm was blaring throughout the city, from a diabolical machine of rails and cylinders. In the horizon, every living soul would perish at the sight of this mechanical black dragon. This body was over a mile long, containing links of booster engines that exhaled dark fumes. Turbines of an infernal design were laced all around the front of this gruesome machine, articulated with bladed valves that were stained with blood. An uncountable number of souls had been lost toward the slavery of constructing this locomotive that now blared with sirens, like the signal of an apocalypse. Trails of black smoke were rising from this train, tainting the skies a midnight dusk of foul pollution, fuelled only by the chains of cars that contained mounds of ash and molten steel. The rails were made of the largest source of Ankara ever utilized, forever engraved into the ground that carried this engine throughout this city of imprisonment.

"Whoever crosses the rails, wins the race!" the angel exhibited with a pair of mirrored threads into Drak's mind.

"Then I insist you take the lead..." Drak gestured with an offering hand in the form of a gauntlet.

Just when Wardread was about to accelerate and pull ahead of the R1, she noticed a crack running along the ground. It was a toothed line that traveled the same direction as the riders, yet faster than their current speed. Although the fallen angel's obsidian eyes were able to perceive this tremor, she could not warn Drak for the eruption of amber claws ahead. It was impossible to dodge the caltrop claws that were strewn all over the road.

Collision was imminent. The riders used their godly reflexes to activate the brakes and reduce their speed before this calamity, while attempting to align their trajectory as straight as possible. Once the vehicles entered the field of nails, all tires became violently slashed and began to hiss like cobra snakes. The mounts veered slightly, but control was never completely lost since Drak imparted this one single message into Wardread's mind, "do not touch the brakes."

There were lines of ember over a black canvas, showing the discs and rotors inside every wheel. Bindings of deathly spokes were spun around every brake-lever to symbolize the severity of this warning; Do not touch the brakes. Do not accelerate. Do not drastically turn. More bindings of barbed wire were strewn over these controlling features of the mounts, each vision carved into Wardread's mind by Drak. Meanwhile, as the riders drastically lost their speed, the devil looked behind and saw the claws and hands rise higher out of the ground. Fortunately, the field of scarax claws had ended before the R1 and hayabusa slowed to a dreary speed. Drak noticed a trail of molten fluid beginning to flow from all the tires, sealing the slashes and alchemically releasing air to regenerate them.

"Flames of Latheron!" Drak screamed aloud into the skyscrapers.

"Are we going to fight?" Wardread asked while their speeds declined.

"Our tires won't heal in time..." the deer swung his antlers in anger.

The fallen angel looked behind and saw those amber claws upon a squad of emerging demons. Black quills and mohawked heads were gushing into the streets, with eyes the milky color of malice. Just before Wardread could look away, she glimpsed at those demon hearts that pulsed an energized polarity of red; each scarax was fully charged and ready to commit murder.

0 KM per hour.

Drak clenched his fist with more compaction and anger than metamorphic rock. He quivered by this display of hatred and transferred his energy into the R1's cracked windshield with an earth shattering punch. His blood burned a molten white, while shards of glass rained upon the road. The stag re-gripped his handlebars and leapt from his mount, noticing the R1's tires were seeping with a viscous fluid. Although small punctures or cuts would've healed instantly, it would take minutes for deep slashes to close within the sidewalls of these tires. Drak grasped his handlebars firmly and slammed his mount down on the side, causing kinetic recoil of shatters and fiberglass, while looking into the direction of the scarax squad. The devil's eyes never burned so red with rage as his carnivorous teeth clenched hard enough to crush a diamond.

"Temper deer..." Wardread spoke while gently resting her hayabusa on the roadside.

"I'll kill them all!" Drak hissed through his clasped mouth.

There were a dozen of them. Navy scales were shimmering in the light, while their cores pulsed red with power. Each scarax stood nearly a height of six feet, which was restricted by their massive thighs, connected to their thick tails full of girth. Slim waists pulsed with lifeblood energy, armored randomly from their toned arms bearing claws and quills. They slowly began to stagger forward like a pack of predators, careful in their killing intents. Drak roared into the heavens, then charged forward with hammering hooves, like a red meteorite in a black trail of space. His hooves glowed red upon striking the ground, increasing speed until he rivaled a shooting star. A single scarax accepted this challenge, leaping over the other squad members with an assaulting vault, then leaned low while propelling itself like a navy comet. Just before collision, the charging scarax raised its arms full of jet-black quills, which slightly extended for the first strike.

There was a clash of sinew as the charging scarax felt its own pole arms snap and shatter, since Drak smashed his antlers through the extended quills and into the scarax's core. The stabbed demon wailed like an injured tyrannosaurus rex, before using the remaining energy it had to strike Drak in the head with an overhead slash. The resulting blow caused Drak's antlers to jolt out of the demon's abdomen with splashes of glowing red fluids. After the devil recovered from being struck, his ferocity flared into a fist he punched into the scarax's core, which exploded like a ruptured heart. The claws of this falling scarax flailed into the air, grazing the glass of Ankara upon Drak's shoulders, before dying into a rolling corpse. Another charging scarax burst from the crowd of demons, but its entrance was short lived as a feather-knife whirled through the air and struck deeply into the neck of this unfortunate victim. It tried desperately to stop the bleeding with its clawed hands. Black bloods sprayed like a geyser as the wounded scarax felt its own core being drained from a dull red to nothing. Another unreflective cluster of eyes had shattered against the road, from the corpse of a falling scarax.

Wardread didn't have time to extinguish the light. There were far too many earthglass orbs that burned with fiery light upon their lampposts along each side of the street. A third scarax had attempted to charge past Drak in an attempt to head towards Wardread, but the devil back-kicked a mighty hoof that burned from a molten charge. The branded hoof struck the scarax in its spine, which crunched on impact. Before the paralyzed scarax had fallen to the ground, it looked down at its extinguished core as it shattered against the ground. The entire crowd lashed at Drak and every scarax charged forward at the same time; two of them heading towards Wardread. The devil jumped in reverse, arching his body backwards while planting his clawed hands onto the street. His flowing hooves struck a scarax in the face, sending bits of its skull skyward. When Drak recovered, he saw a close-up sight of enormous pearls covered in black blood in their rows. A stabbing of quills and claws had pierced into Drak's upper body, where he could feel molten blood pouring from his chest. Although the majority of these spears had snapped from contacting armor plates of Ankara, Drak knew he wouldn't survive the battle at this rate. His anger gave him enough energy to strafe away, while watching the attacking scarax with black blood in its eyes fall to the ground, from a cracked skull that had been kicked acrobatically. Drak saw the charging horde just in time, for another scarax leapt through the skies, in a deadly attempt to pounce with sickled talons on its feet from a height that doubled its own. Drak performed his own jump, rolling laterally in the air to dodge the road splitting attack.

The fallen angel had barely enough time to reach for another feather-knife from her wings, but all horror escalated when her hand became tangled in those chains. Her eyes went wide with fright as she saw two scarax's about to engage an assault on her. She desperately yanked and tugged, cutting her wrists in the process, but she couldn't retrieve another feather from her bounded wings. Just before the closest scarax raised both claws for a downslash, Wardread grinned with a sickening expression and sidestepped. Nothing but air flowed through the sharp spines and razor claws from this scarax's deadly downslash; its eyes reflected the fallen angel who parried the attack with her raven mantle. Before this first demon could raise its claws for another strike, it realized both of its wrists had been slashed as they poured with a dark blood. Quills fell to the ground, including claws and hands, before the parried scarax realized its own core was deeply lacerated as well. Wardread had sliced her wing-ridges across the wrists of this scarax in order to parry the attack. Red lifeblood flowed from the demon's core as the first scarax fell against the street, screaming a dying note before silence. Once Wardread recovered from her spinning, she thrust a feather knife into the chest of the second scarax, who was caught completely off guard by the fallen angel's feint. There were several assassin-styled stabs before the second scarax was able to complete its own fall to the ground and claim death. Wardread had completely faked the fact her hand got caught in those chains along her wings, which cost these two scarax's their demonic lives.

Drak could taste a molten pain in his mouth; in between those clenched carnivorous teeth. He landed in a kneeling position, with his back against the side of an infernal tower. This is where he would perish. His body poured a terrible amount of red and glowing blood, slow in its attempt at sealing his chest wounds. If it hadn't been for his ruined armor, he surely would've died from the final lunge of the previous opponent. Those plates of Ankara in his vest had defied death a thousand times; each time was adding a new tear in his suit. Drak felt shredded and grated like his armor displayed, revealing glimmers of unholy glass between the torn weaves of kevlar.

Six scarax's were charging towards the stag upon their velociraptor legs, hacking the streets with sickled talons on their feet. They opened drooling jaws that erected long and thin amber teeth, glistening from the streetlamps. Just before this navy semi-circle of abyss would leap into the air and shred Drak to pieces, a roar of hatred had surged from the stag. He screamed a sonic boom of wildfire, spreading throughout the city with infinite echoes. It was a sound that repulsed the demons to a standstill, causing them to step back a foot or two. Even Wardread felt a welling of fiery stars pulse through her mind as the infernal scream flowed through her. She quickly readied a bloody feather knife in her hand, the one she used to lightning-stab a previous opponent with, by holding it in between her fingers like a trembling dart. The cloaked raven drew herself closer to those navy hunters while tracking a gaze along the clusters of pearls. If any scarax made an attempt to rush towards Drak, it would be the last move it made...

Drak quickly brought his arm against his searing chest, slowing the molten flow that released an imploding agony; the kind you feel when your skin is about to burst from swelling blood. As the scarax squad slowly grazed their talons toward the devil, Drak painfully raised his head while lifting those heavy antlers. He looked at the shattered vehicles, now laying on their sides and bleeding a yellow fluid from their regenerating tires. His gaze shifted from those wheels toward the amber horizon, where the echoing siren of the train had ceased. There in the far distance, he could see the parallel threads of railroad tracks that Drak slowly reached for. They had come so close. He could honestly feel the end, both in his hands and body, as the incoming demons reflected this display of hopelessness in their scarax eyes. Their arm-quills began to splay and extend, slowly rising into the air with claws of agate. There wasn't enough furious energy in Drak to scream again. He knew the squad would strike with a hell bent savagery, shredding his body to pieces instantly. Even if Wardread's stiletto could take the life of one of these hapless fools, there wouldn't be enough time for the saving angel to draw another feather-blade. Once again the devil shifted his gaze to Wardread's black and shiny eyes, seeing instead those violet orbs again. The angel stood with a feather held elegantly, realizing the severity of this situation in her eyes. This would be Drak's final request.

"Please run away," Drak secured into Wardread's mind with severing lines of abandonment.

Her black mantle didn't move. She was going to remain with Drak until the end. Wardread continued to pose with a statuesque stance, holding onto a bloody feather that would give Drak an extra second of life.

"I'll give my life for yours to last," the angel replied with a drop of glowing water.

It occurred to Drak that he wouldn't feel any pain when the closest scarax leapt with a ferocious assault, drooling from a jagged maw of cruelty.

The red glass shattered. Every window in the towers of hierarch had become smashed by dark spheres somersaulting through them, cycling through the air like spinning stars. Daggers of glass was raining from these towers as the antichrists attacked. Each rifle was loaded with hundreds of rounds, forged with the earthly materials of steel. The skies channeled with countless bursts that screamed with explosive powers, wailing infinite explosions that stabbed the air. Drak fixed his gaze on a single spinning orb, which released hundreds of explosive shots in a single concentrated direction at the scarax squad below. No demon or devil was prepared for the astonishing array from these infernal antichrists. Each scarax had only enough time to shift their chalky eyes up at the falling stars before being struck by them. Those black and spinning spheres had hailed down enough shots to chip the scarax armor into fragments. Drak kept his sights on that one spinning orb, which was falling from the tower at a height that equaled a single story. Wardread immediately threw her bloody knife through the rainstorm of bullets before striking an airborne scarax in the throat. Black fluids vaporized in every direction as the assaulting scarax exhaled a hissing anguish towards Drak. The antlers tilted forward to impale the red nucleus within the demon. Those massive haunches didn't look so powerful when the scarax let its thick tail go limp. Drak used his claws to tear his eighteen thorns out of the stabbed demon. Red and navy fluids streaked down from the gaping holes of this dying scarax, which couldn't understand why it was too tired to raise another claw or quill; nor understand the fiery rainstorm that now ensued. Those pearly eyes lost their reflection, as they saw a final vision of red glass being crushed by the step of a steel-toed boot. It was the landing impact of an antichrist.

It was a display of infernal tactics. Their six somersaulting bodies unfolded before slamming into the ground upon their feet of steel and smoke. Their rifles glowed from thermal energy, now resting in their char-grayed hands in a spectacular formation. These beings were no longer human, since they only remembered pain when they were. Four of them were geared with an urban camouflage, those black mono-colors with stainless steel chest plates. The only exceptions were the two fencers at the front, facing closest toward Drak within these red and shimmering streets. Unlike the four lesser antichrists, the two leaders wore deadwood-gray suits full of silvers and dark chains. They had black-glass armors instead of earthly stainless steel plates. The outer four had blacker hair full of a shimmering youthfulness, while those two older faces were ghastly images of inhumane torturers; especially the kind that burned guiltless souls to death. It was noticeable these soldiers had developed pale skins to withstand infernal slavery, fire and persecution. The darker armored four had perceptible colors in their grayish eyes that were earthly blues, greens and browns in nature. However, the leaders had cindery hues within their soulless irises. They were beyond redemption. They were the true antichrists.

Before Wardread could see more of their faces, the lesser antichrists had already reloaded and unleashed storms of fire upon the crouching horde. The scarax squad was pressed low to the ground, like a pack trying to block out a tempest. The demons could feel their lightest layers of stony scales being chipped away as their eyes were being scratched by the fragmenting blasts. It was notable that a single scarax from the pack was beginning to punch the ground with its own fists of lightning. This was when the two samurai vaulted into the air towards the compacted scarax pack. The gray swordsmen formed their bodies into perfect spheres. Just before collision, the lesser rifles ceased while the flying orbs ejected their dark blades, whirling through the skies like deadly saws. Upon contact, two of the scarax victims were sliced violently in half by the rotary blades of a twinsphere attack. Black bloods and cores broke into vertical directions, while the unfolding bodies of silver grays landed with a diagonal slash. A third scarax witnessed its own torso sliced diagonally by these two darkblades of Ankara; this victim accepted an instant death as it felt pieces of its body sliding away from these cuts. All that remained was red scatterings of glass and navy husks with black spikes. As the final scarax was about to be pierced by dual stabs by the antichrist fencers, there was an eruption of black concrete and dust; this final scarax used abyssal reflexes to punch the ground and dig for evasion just in time.

Groups of burning colors had flooded these infernal minds until a raging fire was completed. Drak's wisps were molten red, showing his fusion of anger and temper. Wardread contributed violet wavelengths around the stag's scarlet, showing a mosaic of control around the whole silhouette. The lesser antichrists fortified the inferior of this mental flame with stands of blue, displaying their attention for another order. The two final lines were scorching yellow, finalizing this body of fire and displaying their domination.

"Nobody move! I can feel the demon in my hooves..." Drak's red flames glowed with warning.

Below the black streets, there was a trembling force of abyssal power. The scarax core was pulsing redder, filling with more energy for another relentless strike against the infernal commandos above. These minor tremors were tingling the bottom of Drak's black hooves. He could feel the lingering scarax underneath. The pulses were irregular like heart murmurs in the dark.

"If the four of us retreat, you masters can survive by our lives," the bluest of lower flames incited.

"No!" the amber flames of the greater pair roared with fury, "we will lure it out."

If these leader samurai had been shouting with their physical voices at this point, they would've sounded feral and inhuman. They would have spoken with carnivorous teeth and barbed throats.

"Remove the light so we can all survive," Wardread invoked with destructive lines of magneta around the streetlamps.

"Remove your light you female demon!" the greater fencers burned their amber fuels toward Wardread's violet fire.

Each infernal figure within the street resembled a statue. Their bodies remained completely motionless in order to prevent exposure of themselves to the festering scarax below. However, a telepathic dispute was now taking place between these surface sculptures; the two samurai fencers looked the most like figurines due to their grayish armors and cloudy eyes as their bodies contained a soul of powder.

"If you speak to my angel like that again, you will never see light forever..." Drak threatened with an image his horrific claws, rending an eye until it burst with a gray fluid.

"We defied orders to save your life!" the samurai retaliated with a sword of ash glass, thrusting through the palm of Drak's telepathic hand.

Drak felt his palm surge with a torn pain in reality; the telepathic message from the two fencers had brought anguish upon the stag. He felt his anger returning, a molten current that fused his body completely. The seeping from his chest had ceased as the lava smoldered his fur, causing more to grow back again. This regenerating fur was flowing white at first then changing into a red and earthly coat. He drew an image of annihilation. His cerebral claws gripped the sword vision with the edge cutting into his palms and drawing liquid fire. Drak's body burned. His grip tightened. The blade quivered. Force. Power. Fire. Drak channeled all the immortal hatred he ever felt from his life into that telepathic blade of Ankara. The samurai opened their eyes wide with strain, while they saw this tyrannical painting in their minds. Wardread's violet lines fanned Drak's flame, her eyes glowing a powerful beacon toward the stag who was kneeling in reality. The final image was a clawed hand, impaled by a blade of Ankara. Fires of blue, amber, scarlet and violet were burning in the background. It was a conflict between Drak and the fencers, with Wardread enhancing the devil's mental powers. The clawed grip forcefully tightened against the blade's edge. Rage. Temper. The glass began to bend. A resonance of groaning fatigue emanated from the dark edge. There was no way these antichrist leaders could relieve themselves from this mental nightmare; Drak gripped the sword and disallowed their escape. Wardread inspired Drak with ultraviolet wavelengths. He felt his body become stronger than any alloy in the universe. The glass cracked...

"Stop!" the gray antichrists flared in this mental void with their withdrawn blade.

If Drak hadn't released the blade in this terrifying dream, the samurai would've perished.

The leaders slowly grasped their heads in pain, displaying a mental stress they now felt. They were breathing heavily from the exertion they had placed upon the canvas; feeling a pain that had not existed for years within their bodies.

"Forgive us..." the fencers marked with their withering flames.

Both of the greater antichrists slightly lowered their heads in contrition, because they knew the stag had just spared their lives. No soul can survive the mental stress of their emblem being destroyed. Only a being that's physically capable of crushing the indestructible glass of Ankara could imagine having such power. Wardread had previously channeled a wavelength into her lover with enough intensity to give any soul such telepathic strength.

"We now listen for your order..." these grayed beings expressed with a fire of sincerity.

"First..." Drak began with his red garnet being formed into the mental void, "...give me your signatures."

"Keri," the samurai on the left scribed in fire.

"Brand," the rightmost fencer scribed in blood.

Both their demeanors were perfect in unison. Keri had an Ankh engraved on her emblem, with the lower arms notably inferior on the pole. Although an Ankh represents life, those lower arms on the staff meant eternal damnation. It was apparent that this incarnation of the Ankh utilized a fighting stance that emphasized speed and balance. Her thinner body displayed finesse as she gripped her katana with a single hand, while the blade edge faced upward from her bent fist and angled arm. She could perform every flexible arc like a dancing flame with her blade of Ankara.

Brand displayed his symbol of the antichrist afterward, which was different from the mark of Aries in the zodiac. Although the staff divided into a pair of curves at the top, there was also another set of pole-arms located near the bottom. Brand on the secondary, chose a path of power. He focused on a style that utilized both hands with a stance of oppression. His blade pointed toward the heavens by structured arms that fortified his upper pose, yet his head had a slight slant of malevolence toward the blade's edge. Every stab of a devil's antler could be mimed with Brand's fighting technique. At first glance, the only difference between these swordsmen was their hairstyles; Keri had longer strands of silver than Brand. Their emblems were surely tattooed somewhere on their respecting bodies.

"You both will obey Wardread over me," Drak displayed his garnet below the raven feather.

"Done."

"Keri, I demand you sever Wardread's bonds..." Drak mentally commanded with visions of blades slicing through chains.

"Forbidden!" she stormed with the red claw marks of Drak's master.

The stag stormed with his flames, causing a forever-reflecting blaze with his garnet.

"You must obey me..." the red gemstone shimmered.

In response to this infernal command, Keri slowly swung the tip of her blade dangerously close to the ground and then angled the edge toward her face. In her final stance, the blade's edge was horrifically touching her neck, where she was just about to slice through vital bloodlines and kill herself.

"Stop!" Wardread decreed by dousing Drak's last order with her violet lines.

This new scene was a definition of horror. Keri curved her neck slightly as she slowly rotated her head toward the direction of Wardread. Brand' eyes went wide when he saw what his twin was about to do. Never had so much gray been revealed in both the fencers eyes as Keri was just about to take her own life. The lesser four antichrists had delicately raised their rifles in shock. The stag raised one of his slashed arms toward Keri as a sign of apprehension.

"My order is now above the stag, therefore you are now my slave." Wardread reminded with her feather emblem outlined in lilac.

The fallen angel began to survey the scene. She saw a squad of four lesser antichrists with rifles armed with earthly rounds. Drak had fully recovered, yet he was still kneeling perfectly still in his position. Keri's stance was similar to a statue of death while her twin brother was maintaining his sword spire, but he gripped his hilt with one hand in order to reach for his twin sister with the other.

Wardread knew these soldiers would never move. She looked into the shimmering pools of Drak's eyes as they stared at each other momentarily. A secret firemind had formed between the two, which slowly began to inject fear into Drak's widening eyes of shining blood. Drak didn't understand the scarax heart murmurs in the depths until now. Although the pulse was irregular, Wardread translated the meaning of the scarax's core in the caverns below. The heartbeats were a signal. It would only be a matter of time before the mother of the horde would arrive. In the distance, there were faint wailings emitted from monstrous nightmares. Drak never felt so much panic. Everyone was going to perish unless they acted now, yet the scarax predator was still below and ready to unmercifully attack anyone who moved above.

"Keri! You still want to commit suicide?" Wardread shouted at the gray antichrist.

Brand covered his mouth with his open hand, hoping it would somehow seal the hazardous noise emitted from Wardread. Keri nearly dropped her sword in alarm.

"Watch this!" the demonic angel screamed to the antichrists before sprinting immediately.

Drak felt a surge of lightning beneath the ground, heading for Wardread. The gray antichrists touched their swords together and prepared for an interception as the darker ones readied their rifles. The road surface erupted as splays of claws and spines traveled toward the running angel, who carried herself with incredible speed due to her lightweight frame.

"Fire!" Drak roared with both mental blaze and real voice.

Hundreds of earthly rounds were launched within mere seconds, striking barbs and spines that trailed Wardread's ankles by mere inches. The dark angel ran for her life as both rakes of claws and piercing bullets erupted at her heels, causing black fragments of the street to geyser. The sword-twins ran in parallel with one another, heading to engage the deadly underground scarax. Drak leapt from his kneeling position, landing with both hooves clashing in front of Wardread's path and reached with his outstretched hand. Waves of molten liquids splashed within the minds of these infernal fighters. The twin samurai's used their psychic flames to douse the blue antichrists, causing them to cease-fire at the final moment.

The scarax caused a dark cloud to fume when it finally revealed itself. Its spines were all lifted into the air with a horrific alignment; no blemishes were stained in its cluster of milky eyes. The massive legs on this scarax had launched its body out of the ground, with a navy tail flowing like a river of death. Its core was bright-red and fully charged. Glimmering claws of amber had extended from its azure-electric body towards Wardread. Just before the scarax could land a gruesome claw-rake on her, she was pulled aside by the stag with his outstretched hand. Drak immediately collected the angel in his arms and jumped straight up and away with a fantastic height, which evaded the scarax attack completely. Keri and Brand whirled their blades of Ankara into cyclones, both slashing with perfect unison through the scarax. The tips of their swords were deadly razors completing a Gemini attack. The scarax core was obliterated while its body was pulled to the ground by death; the face of a dying scarax never alters in any emotion. Both Brand and Keri kept their final stances motionless after this magnificent attack, resulting in a pair of statues with a symmetrical formation.

"You risked your life for the others," Drak enveloped his angel with a warm wreath of telepathic flames.

Wardread's body never shuddered as the carrying stag absorbed the violent force of their landing. Although the shrill edges of Wardread's feathers had slightly burrowed into Drak's embracing arms, he desired this kind of pain forever.

"Our own thoughts deceived us," the twin fencers evoked into the firemind.

"Wardread is no demon after all..." the dark four antichrists spoke aloud.

Their rifles were dwindling a molten energy as the lesser soldiers formed their bodies at ease. However, they couldn't help but feel a tremendous surge of invisible fear crawl into their souls. The bloods within these lesser antichrists flowed slower while their sights pulsed with grayness. The landscape became drained of color, leaving only a single hue to inspire fear. Wardread turned her eyes slightly away from Drak's embrace, revealing a pair of gleaming eyes full of searing violet.

"Don't be too sure," the fallen angel grinned with malice towards the apprehensive fighters.