The raven-colored assailant was actually quite similar to a raven itself: the cloak of black, almost deep purple, feathers. The mask was round with no facial features, with a hood around it. Everywhere else was black and devoid of meaning. It was just one entity. The daggers in its gloved hands were sharp and curved, one of which was gleaming in blood. Its victim remained by its boots, though it didn't care much.

Chuckling, the Champion snagged his crossbow out and let loose a single bolt right for the raven's forehead. Instead, his target vanished with a puff of black smoke and feathers. The bolt continued to fly until striking the floor quite the far distance away.

With an impatient grunt, he fanned his gaze all around him. Shadows were beginning to seep in further. He felt trapped, though it wasn't something he dreaded. He would love for such a thing to happen. If the abyss came, hungry and yearning, he would embrace it.

A swift sound erupted behind him that was reminiscent of an agile predator running with unseen speed through the wind. The Champion's back leg throbbed in pain as he turned around. Nobody was there, but when he looked down, a pool of black blood trickled downward. The color made his smile stretch even further. Drop by drop, the surface rippled and expanded.

Little raven... you can't hide forever...

Another slash cut across his back. The numbing pain was barely detectable any longer. It only served as a means of fueling him.

The sound... must wait for it...

When the wind rustled behind him, he spun around and swung his sword horizontally. The raven only exploded in smoke again, while the air around suffered the same fate. The Champion couldn't even see the rooftops, or even the sky any more. It had all vanished.

With his gaze directed above him, where only dark mist lingered in what seemed like an endless sky, he suddenly kicked outward. The raven toppled over after the gut hit, then tried to recover. The Champion seized the opportunity and held up his great sword for a vertical slam; however, a piercing pain ruptured in his chest. Confused, he looked down to see a second raven pulling out a sharp dagger in his chest. Or rather, pushing it in.

The sword fell out of his grasp, his gauntlets shakily still held above him. Everything went cold inside of him. Every heartbeat came with a shudder. As the dagger pushed in further to where he couldn't see the glistening blade any longer, red appeared. Substance he had seen killing orcs and bandits was now coming out of him. It was slow and less than the black blood, but it was still there.

I'm... I'm dying...

With a huff, he looked back up at the raven pushing in the dagger, as the other remained still. That one was just an illusion. It was all an illusion.

You... you'll come with me!

Stricken in rage, the Champion thrust his right gauntlet back with newfound flames engulfing it. The raven stopped its pushing and couldn't react when the fist jabbed its mask right in the center. Black mist exploded out of its broken shape. The raven reeled back with gloved hands hiding where it had been punched. Flames scorched the hood at the corners.

"Nothing shall stand... against the true might of Good," the Champion announced, as his right gauntlet grabbed the dagger to pull it out. Once out, a wave of black blood exploded. Red blood stopped flowing outward—it had been patched up to the very core. Below him, he could even see his armor reforming, relocating itself. It was repairing on its own, like it were skin.

Watching the raven stumble back with black mist pouring out of its broken mask, the Champion stalked over to it. To finish the job. To enact revenge. The sweet taste of it would come soon and soothe his very soul.

He stopped before the writhing raven and grabbed its neck with his burning right gauntlet. Smoke rose in rapid quantity with the black cloak sizzling away. Still no sound of torment or agony came.

"Crawl back to the shadows where you belong," the Champion murmured, then hardened his grip fully until the neck was squeezed to a pulp. The entire raven exploded in mist and feathers, with black substance coming moments later. It was cold and abysmal, almost like rain, for that was how it fell down.

The atmosphere around him reverted to its normal state. No longer was he encased in the dome of void, where he sought no escape. Before him, the Champion saw a trail of feathers and splatters of red blood heading deeper into the street. He cast one last glance at the corpse lying around, then began to pursue his wounded prey.

Despite it all—the recovery, bleeding had stopped—it still throbbed. It still hurt. He wished for the pain to leave, but it would stay as a constant reminder of his mistake. Whenever he was wounded, which was quite the rare occasion, it did go away. But now, he was quite scared that it would remain forever.

"How does it feel, brother?"

The Champion shot a quick look beside him to locate Jewel in an equal pace with him, then looked straight ahead. The path of feathers and bloodstains continued to guide his way.

"It feels fine," he answered, though he wasn't able to conceal his lie all that much.

"I know it doesn't, brother, because I was stabbed right in eye," Jewel remarked, chuckling. "Then my other! I felt no pain anywhere else but my poor, gauged eyes. They were gone, and I couldn't see any longer! What a true nightmare!"

"Your heart..." the Champion trailed off, as he recalled the vision when Jewel was stabbed right in the chest. It didn't seem to hurt him one bit.

"It seems we have different points of, say, vulnerability," Jewel decided. "I have it all figured out. My place is the eyes because I just adore watching others suffer." He laughed at the sensation, while the Champion repelled the feeling. He was disgusted, but something inside of him would love the scenery instead. "And yours is the heart because you're such a softhearted wimp."

"Then tell me about all those I haven't spared!" The Champion thrust his finger toward Jewel, stopping in the process. Like it were a phantom, his finger only went right through his target. Jewel's eyes gazed at him in amusement, his smile expanding in size that was as thin as the crescent moon.

"Those don't matter, brother." Jewel's smile turned upside down with his sides narrowing. "You still have that urge of this so-called protection duty. The sad part is, it's stuck with you. No matter if you call off that venomous mage and all others, your heart will remain weak and..." He scoffed. "Humane! How miserable is that?!"

"It's... stuck like this?" the Champion muttered, pressing his gauntlet against his chest where he had been stabbed.

"I'm afraid so." Jewel threw his arms up with a grin. "But does it matter? You can continue to slaughter them all and dominate the whole world. Nothing—"

"But you died."

Silence lingered between them. Jewel heaved an irritated sigh remorsefully.

"I may or may not have been cocky." Jewel spat an alien curse. "Those damn dwarves! That elf! When they arrive, I will obliterate them to smithereens!"

"You wanted them to come this whole time, hmm?" the Champion guessed, then resumed on the path.

"Yes," Jewel admitted. "I want them dead. I have revenge not even you can comprehend, and I know you feel it plenty. But, you know, being dead really, really makes me thirsty. And what makes it worse... they killed me. They shamed me in the most disrespectful, rude manner possible. For that, when the time is ripe, I will..." He balled up his fist that exploded into talons with a mad downpour of black particles in pursuit.

"DECIMATE THEM!" he shouted in utmost rage, until falling onto his knees in a panting state. Smoke rose off him that the Champion could smell. The decay, rotten smell with vivid memories of slaughtered innocents in close company. A smell he had to look away to avoid it.

"That is your own personal matter to attend to, your revenge," the Champion decided, and immensely smiled at the limping figure up ahead. It still left behind a path. Revenge differed for many, but his was right before his eyes. He only needed to go forth and finish the job.

"Wait, wait," Jewel hastily requested, rushing to stop the Champion from going any further. "Just leave the poor bastard be. What's the good in finishing—"

The Champion cast his gaze upon his brother, whose eyes grew wide in surprise, with his arms shaking at their very core. It was true fear from a coward by heart.

"My business is my own," the Champion murmured. He slapped aside Jewel's arm and marched forward, his hungry gaze glued onto the fleeing raven who wouldn't look back. He could already taste the blood... the thrill. For being stabbed, for being reminded of his weakness, as if he could die like a mere commoner, he would eliminate this filth. Through the cries of agony, immense blood loss, his foe would remain conscious the whole time. Until sweet death could be served.

"Just stop!" Jewel exclaimed, again running after the Champion, who didn't stop this time. Annoyances would be dispelled. Focus would remain intact. He had a foe to slay, revenge to satisfy. His thirst may be insatiable and forever yearning for blood, but he could at least appease it for the time-being.

"They're your allies!"

The Champion came to an abrupt halt as he stared at Jewel like he were crazy.

"What nonsense do you wish to fool me with this time?" he demanded, his gaze shifting back onto the raven, who was within killing range. One bolt to the head—rather, one bolt to the leg. Cripple him, then finish off the wounded prey. Such satisfaction was what made predators beam in their glorified triumph. Truly making one helpless and then taking the matters of life and death into their own hands.

"You know that bald, insensitive fool you saw me talking with however long ago that was?" Jewel carried on. The Champion silently agreed as he recalled the inn and hungry crowd. The bald man was called Narx, and it seemed he was rather important.

"He's a close aide to my family," Jewel remarked, then snorted. "Not a dear friend or anything, but a kind stranger. Now, with him, we can really expand our power and such. Just look at how many fools worship us! Practice our arts!"

"What are you saying?" the Champion demanded impatiently. He looked ahead—the raven was practically out of sight by now. His thrill to chase and kill wouldn't be suppressed for much longer.

"I'm saying to leave these bandits alone," Jewel advised, with a frown. "Let them be. Let them kill and expand. By the end of it, I assure you that they will stand by your side at the end. It will be much, much more than you could ever hope to receive from those stupid soldiers that do nothing all the time."

"All that matters is their unquestionable loyalty," the Champion decided. "And all that matters is this kingdom's success. That means killing all that dare oppose it." Finally, he continued on his path, soon to catch up with the raven whose pace was slowing down. His gauntlet was already reaching for his crossbow—

"You kill him, and you'll be alone when the time comes!" Jewel snapped. "When you need an army, you will have none at all."

The Champion chuckled at the fate, bringing out his crossbow and aiming it directly at the foe who was leaning against a wall for support.

"So be it."