Naseraph Sana
Naseraph only faintly heard Brutus when he entered the wonderful little pillbox. The very second it had been completed he's sat crossed legged on the ground, eye closed, hands clasped in front of him. The muffled noise from outside vanished almost completely as he focused his mind and, one by one, snuffed out his senses. Hearing was nothing. Touch was nothing. Smell was nothing. Taste was nothing. Even sight, the plain black view of the back of his eyes, fell into nothing. He could be nothing. He opened a void in his senses, a hole into the cavernous emptiness inside, and into this void flowed all the orphaned power of the world.
He had never before experienced this sort of variety in the remnants of power he took into himself. Every energy had its own flavor, texture, feel, and like a good feast he sampled everyone one of that roof. He felt the rough touch crunchiness of impact, of all shapes and sizes from the boot on the ground to the big gulps of what felt like a car being skipped like a stone across the ground. He felt the remnants of explosions, still large and bold and like swallowing a watermelon whole, and along the edges of a few he could swear he felt the scattered remnants of something extraordinarily kind. He could feel the demons fire, hot and disgusting like fresh vomit, and the feeling of divine fire that pointed at his throat like a defiant sword even as it went down. He felt ice and the paradox energy that was used to create this absence, and a true void that was like absorbing inexplicably itself. There were the shattered remains of pure will that floated around this pillbox and the very energy left circling in the stone from where in changed shape. There was the sharp sting of two swords of light. The, finally, there was the small, jittery feeling of electricity.
Brutus through his tag at the Demon fighting King and it tagged her right in the back. It was a little thing. She didn't feel it coming. When it hit she felt it and for a moment was shocked. For just one fleeting moment her attention was not totally dedicated to King. For just one, small, infinitesimal moment, she wondered how she'd been so foolish as to allow an attack from some nobody to graze her skin.
In that moment King took her wing.
It was a clean cut, right from underneath as causal as culling a apple open for lunch, and she plummeted on the room. The strangest thing was, though, that every demon on the roof seemed to feel it. Every last one of them flinched, stopped. Christine's attack took the head clean off the clone that fighting Clara, scattering its skull in little red crystals across the roof. Alto used that moment to cleanly divide his opponent into six roughly equal pieces. The one winged demon, the real Greater Demon, landed on her feet on the roof and stared up, then around at all the students that had just so blindly stumbled onto its lair. The sheer killing intent that flowed off her body in waves felt like a guillotines blade dropping repeatedly toward your neck.
Naseraph opened his eyes and shuttered. "Someone did something." she said, breathlessly, his face white. The demon energy he had been absorbing had suddenly spiked and threatened to overwhelm him. An overcharge wasn't good at the best of times, but he didn't want to think about what would happen if he overcharged on that malicious shit. He was evil. He knew that. He was a murderer. He'd taken the lives of his entire family, there was nothing he could stand before the gods and say to justify what he had done and he was fine with it. But that thing out there...that was evil.
And it was building up to something.
@Hammerman@rawkhawk64@KillamriX88@6slyboy6@Bartimaeus@RoflsMazoy
