“After all we’ve been through together, you still don’t trust me?”
There was something about the way that Shion spoke, the way she looked at him, and overall the feeling that Jaakuna couldn’t shake off that something grim was going on in that head of hers. Sure, she had some kind of wound on her hand. Just by a brief glance, Jaakuna could tell something was up with it, but it was also her words. She seemed to be acting as if the end is nigh and she didn’t have a lot of time left.
Jaakuna looked at her face, scanning every inch of her fair skin, seeing little hints of fatigue and weakness underneath her eyes and how those amber eyes of hers seem to have less of a shine to them than they once did. This more or less cemented Jaakuna’s feeling.
“Whatever. You don’t need to ask me. I still have some unfinished business with the old bastard,” Jaakuna grinned to hide his worry for Shion’s shape. Turning around, he took a few steps, then looked back to Shion. “You better not die while I’m gone. Gonna need the almighty Shion to say that she trusts me right to my face.” Jaakuna snickered as he took off in a high-speed dash, a trail of flame magick being left behind him.
The fight had been up and down for both men. The power of Exodus and Gilgamesh clashed as they had fused with their summoners -their chosen ones, if you will. Astral and light clashed in brilliant orange and golden hues, flares of rock and heavenly magick struck each other. Those strong magicks that had been unleashed upon the clearing within the ruins of New ARchadia had caused vibrations to the surrounding area. Debris flew all over, building a sort of barrier of dust and smoke around them.
When the two colossal forces clashed again, they seemed to be evenly matched. Lannit and Hamut utilized the powers of the one that they combined with. Hamut was utilising the unique magicks of one of the Thirteen Espers while Lannit was utilising the battle-born warrior spirit of the Legendary Swordsman himself, Gilgamesh.
Lannit, for the time being, had the upper-hand. His speed topped Hamut’s old age and that made Hamut take several punches in a row - all of which were strong enough to floor Tiamat. The fact that several of these landed on Hamut and the seasoned general was still standing said a lot about his endurance. Granted, he had the assistance of a real esper.
The Archadian Pirate went in for a final punch that was laced with a golden light that seemed to be akin to Holaja in strength, but it seemed vastly different. This punch had made direct contact with Hamut’s chest and it sent the old warrior flying through a dozen buildings. Lannit would follow as he didn’t want to waste this perfect opportunity to finish off Hamut. As he did, he had zipped through the debris of the chunks of the stone and steel fragments from the buildings. When he spotted Hamut, his entire body unleashed an aura of golden light and he charged his entire body towards Hamut.
And Lannit made contact, forcing Hamut into the ground. That specific action created a crater several paces wide and deep.
Lannit was smiling down at Hamut as he saw a seemingly lifeless man below him. His eye was wide open. The mouth was open wide too. It was as if he had done it, which prompted Lannit to get up. Assuming the best, he powered down and reverted to his normal self.
“Thanks for the help, Gilgamesh,” Lannit would say. He heard a response inside his head.
Just as Lannit had turned around, his eyes caught the sight of a few familiar faces with their eyes widened as wide as they could, mouths dropped to the floor and a look of complete astonishment on their faces. “Oh, hey guys,” Lannit casually said, not even trying to address what they were probably thinking.
“L-Lannit, did you just.” Jaakuna stuttered.
“Yup.”
“How did you--when did you--” Dominic also stuttered.
“About twenty minutes ago.”
“I guess we didn’t need to come after all.” Shinto stated simply, smirking at Lannit as he popped a cig into his mouth and lit it with a simple fire spell from the tip of his right index finger.
“I guess not.” Lannit chuckled. He noticed Lorenzo. He seemed to be disappointed that he didn’t get a shot at Hamut either,“oh, sorry about that Prince. I guess we didn’t need your awesome skills after all.”
The other men would start to pat Lannit on the shoulder. Jaakuna had brought him in for a quick hug and Dominic did the same. Shinto would nod at him. They all laughed and cheered at the surprising end to Hamut. Lannit couldn’t help but notice that Jaakuna seemed disappointed about it.
“Sorry man, I know that was your kill, but--”
Before Lannit could finish that sentence, he coughed up blood. It was a few drops at first. Nothing to worry about, but in the moments that followed it began to increase past just a few drops. The blood started coming out of his mouth by the pints. None of them realized it until they all looked down. Lannit didn’t realise it until his eyes fell down to his heart. There was a blade laced with what looked like sap and bioaga. His entire body had a mixture of green and blue-colored, toxic bubbles forming on his skin, burning his insides as well as his flesh. Before Lannit could even do anything, he collapsed on the floor face-first in a pool of his own blood.
And as his form had done that, the rest looked up and saw Hamut standing just three paces away, smiling and his entire body covered in a golden armor and his hair just as golden. His eye that was normally hidden away by an eyepatch had the glyph of Exodus in it.
“So who’s next?” Hamut curled a sinister smile as he scanned the group. So many choices, he murmured.
It wasn’t as if Wesley didn’t hear her voice - he heard Nadeline loud and clear like a bell constantly ringing. It was more like he was in a frozen stasis, paralysed by the memories that wouldn’t stop appearing into his mind. They were images with the sound of tears and crying that was playing on repeat. So much blood. A lifeless body. The absence of life from his brother. And all of that was nothing compared to the torment that Wesley had gone through himself, blaming nobody else but him. When it happened, he blamed the one person that was powerless to stop it: Wesley Alexander Dalmasca. The young teen who couldn’t stop his brother from losing his own life.
And then, just as earlier proved itself, he was still that useless kid. Unable to get to Nadeline before it was too late. Unable to prevent her from being hurt in the first place. Unable to cope with the idea that his brother was alive, Wesley’s trembling didn’t cease. He, just as lifeless as his brother was that day, looked in front of him with eyes that were as close to being dead as they could ever be without Wesley himself being slain.
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