Serge didn't know what the creatures were. They evoked no memories, and he was certain he had never seen them before. Each of the creatures was just shorter then an average man of Serge's age, entirely black with baleful eyes. Long protrusions hung from their heads, like horns or hair. And there were hundreds of them. Leaping into action, Serge ripped into them with ferocity. Striking them down with hardened blows, turned back to them... and found that he had done no damage at all. It seemed that while his old fishermen's swallow worked against minor creatures, like Komodos, it failed to do anything against beasts such as these.
He turned, then, and triggered one of his heavier elements. Several balls of flame ripped outwards, and slammed into a number of the beasts. They dissolved into shadow, and then into nothing at all. Serge thought he saw a pink heart shaped light fade into nothing from their remains.
"They're weak against elements!" he yelled, and some of the other folk took notice. Soon fireballs, chunks of earth, blades of air, and all manner of semi mystical attacks flew at the creatures. Many of them fell, and hope was regained. The villagers would not let their homes be overrun. They fought and fought, and for the moment were winning. Then, a crashing noise sounded, then the ground began to tremble in a quake. To the south of the grounds a great shadowy figure rose, with a good portion of its chest missing. The missing portion was cut clean through, in the shape of a heart. It took a great step forward, and roared. Those who had fought it before would have called it Darkside. Serge called it ugly.
The beast walked forwards, ignoring the attacks against it. It swung an arm and sent villagers and performers alike flying back. Serge grabbed his swallow, prayed to whatever gods were listening. Looking around, he saw many of the villagers giving him frightened looks, before running back to the village knoll. Damn, he thought.
As the demonic being charged Serge, he called upon forgotten reserves of strength just to match it. Strike, dodge, dodge, strike, weave, reversal. The melody of battle rang in his ears. But Serge was tiring, and that beast was not. It strode forwards with monolithic speed and strength. The villagers were running now. Only serge stood against the beast, and he did poorly. If he still had that swallow from his memories... the mastermune, or any of the techiques he had learned on that journey that never was, it might have been different. Alas, what he did have was not enough.
The beast surged forwards, grabbed his swallow, and snapped it in half. It then raised it's arm and let forth a dark element of some sort. Serge tried to dodge it, but it seemed to erupt from the ground where he stood. Seven, eight, nine strikes of shadowy power. Serge, being of a light element orientation was particularly susceptable to this, and cried out in pain, before falling to the ground. The beast took this chance to slam its massive arm down against him.
Serge tried to evade, but...
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(Posted Sat, 17 Feb 2007 21:12)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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