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Guardians of Medeus

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Saviors? A ridiculous notion to think that the designated champions of hope would succeed in this tremendously crucial mission. Preserving the royal bloodline was futile. Even now, Lucina, daughter of Marth and Caeda was influenced by the Darksphere’s malicious emanations. Her trusted six companions had fallen victim to the mesmerizing pull of iniquity no less than she. Vile sentiments augmented, turning virtues into vices. Preexisting and buried odious attributes proliferated magnificently. To Medeus, the soldiers who stood before him were a work of decadent art. The only thing to disintegrate the silence was the hoarse and devilish voice of Gharnef. “Lord Medeus, what shall we do with them?” Having served the purpose of slaying all existent descendants of the exalts, what tasks awaited the coterie of former heroes?

“They will serve as my guardians. Any cretin who dares attempt to overthrow us will face no greater peril. Let the lionhearted come; contrition and terror will be the last emotions they shall have the privilege to experience.” Indeed, depravity had corrupted the depths of once untainted souls so profoundly; weapons of legend transformed to match its wielders. “We shall appoint new appellations to each one to fulfill their roles in my schemes.”

To commence, it started with the leader. Princess Lucina was bequeathed with the title of Envy. In the recesses of her heart, the burden of safeguarding her lineage and her responsibilities were overwhelming. How she loathed others who took an easier existence for granted. What worries did they possess? It made her seethe with resentment. Adroitly, her blade slashed through the air, cutting through the atmosphere with a rancorous energy. Her Falchion was corrupted with a fragment of Medeus power like all the other weapons. However, the defilement of these forlorn souls was due to the sway of Gharnef’s Darksphere. Truly, would something as fickle and precarious as conviction and bright optimism defeat the harsh and unrelenting veracity of evil’s puissance?

Jeorge was renamed Greed. House Menidy and its avarice; always seeking political power, fame, and growth. He despised it; his family’s cognomen and what it represented. Ironic now, that he would exemplify the very same rapacity he denied. Parthia, a bow of formidable strength, felt natural in his hands, even now when adulterated with malign energies.

In Cain’s hold radiating sinister intent was the legendary lance, Gradivus, and with it; his new name, Wrath. Always ardent in emotion, the flares of unabated passion would become unparalleled choler. After the Archanean League’s triumph over the Sable Knight, Camus, the regalia returned to its rightful place amongst the others. Upon the switch of reign, the three weapons were held in Altea for safekeeping. For the sake of preventing the parlous future witnessed in augury, but all would be in vain.

Abel once recalled the days he trained tirelessly. Alongside Cain, he strove to improve his own skills. To be on par with his fellow knight and friend. That diligence became slovenliness, fitting for his new moniker, Sloth. Lack of ambition, careless, and perfunctory in his movements; the venerable blade Mercurius was as mercurial as his temperament.

Tiki, divine dragon, now labeled as Gluttony. A lover of humanity who’d now consume the race she held so dearly to her heart. No different from Medeus, befouled by the abominable forces of the Darksphere, human lives were nil but sustenance to her new monstrous form.

Traveling sorcerer, pessimistic yet pacifistic. Nonpareil in magnanimity and humility, a gentle, altruistic, and compassionate soul. Contorted by the Darksphere’s turpitude, any sense of kindness was expunged. Callous, cold, and cocky. Etzel would embody the honorary of Pride. Arrogant of his accomplishments, senses overridden by self-satisfaction; the tome Starlight, entrusted to him by Nyna at the orders of Gotoh, was no longer an instrument of hope against Imhullu’s invincibility. Astral illumination was naught but twisted twilight under the inimical influence of Medeus’ might.

Former monarch turned political advisor, Nyna, was bestowed a crown far heavier than the one she was forced to despondently carry; Lust. In her beauty was a seductive magnetism luring those within her propinquity to the depths of perdition. A woman who placed the happiness of her people above her own could only luxuriate in their travails and ichor presently. Her bloodlust was second to none. Aura which she mastered courtesy of Linde’s direction as a form of gratitude for Nyna’s hospitality and tutelage emitted pernicious vibrations. Aura, a tome once of light, reeked of darkness and despair.

“There they are, the Elite Seven, under your command, you shall lead them to most glorious and gory battle, Gharnef.” Medeus’ commands were not ill founded. While those of regal birth were liquidated, life still flickered in the form of persevering nobility and those of common birth. An uprising to attempt to oust Medeus and Gharnef from their current position of authority still existed. Stamping out the dying embers before it could become a blazing conflagration was of the essence.

“We must divide our numbers to attack their ranks suitably. I will take Lucina with me along with Imhullu. As for the rest… Cain with Abel. Tiki with Jeorge. Etzel with Nyna. Recuperate more of your strength and I shall return with great news, milord.” A cacophonous shriek of laughter resounded in the halls of the fallen Ylissean palace.

“I anticipate nothing less than good tidings. Now go.” Medeus roared menacingly, before returning to a state of slumber. Previous engagements had exhausted him and he sorely required rest to regain the full capacity of his strength.

Dispatched to different locations, each pair disbanded to handle their respective assignments.

“Etzel….” Sultry intonation slithered from lips to ear as bated breath skimmed his skin. From the utterance of his name alone, he was able to garner her excitement. It filled him with a surge of pride that the barbarity of his whims instilled this incitement within her. “Last I saw you perform on the battlefield, you were marvelous. Carmine staining otherwise pristine grounds was a beauteous sight.” Sashaying with a confidence uncharacteristic of a once melancholy woman, his eyes couldn’t stray from the undulation of her rounded pelvis. This was Lust’s temptation, dangerous, and irresistible to even Pride’s narcissism. Self-assured and brazen in action, his hands outreached for her sides to slide along the slope between her waist and voluptuous hips. Digits dug into the flesh of her hips through the fabric of her dress as he leaned in hazardously close.

“I am simply peerless. It’s only natural that you could not forget a sight so breathtaking, doll.” He oozed braggadocio untypical of him, but these changes were highly interesting and entertaining. He found her own come-hither demeanor veritably delicious. Nyna’s hazy blue hues scanned the entirety of his ravishing form with lascivious intrigue. One hand moved to his belt; suggestively tugging his lower body towards her. Her eyes settled on a particular spot as she toyed with the buckle of his belt promiscuously.

“If you insist on talking so hubristically, your robes may spill to the floor before the sanguine of our enemies.” Lips arched sensually, revealing pearly whites in a keenly wolfish grin.

Etzel snarled haughtily in response to her warning. “Let your guard down and it’ll be your dress that is in tatters.”

Yanking him by the belt, she pulled her lips over his in a vicious and hungry kiss. His hands would skid up and down her back and waist as he voraciously imbibed her saccharine taste. His hold on her body was possessively rough and she slipped her tongue between the parted space of his maw. It was a battle for dominance as tongues clashed fervently and he strove to prevail. His tongue forcibly pinned Nyna’s down with starved and harsh strokes, he could almost devour her. Met with some resistance, her own moistened appendage pushed back, flicking at his tongue rebelliously enough to make him growl into her inviting mouth. As she began to retract from the heated osculate, he immodestly captured her plump bottom lip in a bite. He pulled on the succulent flesh and she hissed against his teeth tantalizingly. Upon the release of her lip, he took a moment to appreciate his work imperiously. That bruise was a mark of the copious amount to come for her gratuitous enticement. “You are a canvas for me to repeatedly blemish exquisitely. I’ll put you on display for them to know exactly who you belong to.” Not that any would dare claim what was his from the start. Her allure was the damnation of plenty, but none could touch her vampish radiance. Etzel was without comparison. Any asinine fool who thought themselves competition was below the sole of his boot and he’d ensure to crush that repulsive inferiority of theirs under it.

Nyna’s hand left his belt to smooth along the trail of his abdomen, promptly settling upon his chest which she massaged in an amatory motion. “I am yours to desecrate and you are mine to exploit impulsively. There is no other I fancy than you, my striking spell slinger.” Standing at her peak, her tongue darted forward unchastely to sample his bewitching lips.

A grunt reverberated at the base of his throat, but he smirked against her invasive tongue. His own would gradually slip out to experimentally lick the tip of hers, before he brought himself to make a rejoinder. “You speak of what I already know. There is no finer specimen than I, but you come exceedingly close, precious.” His flirtatious and deepened lilt had her hankering to hear more, but she had to suppress those urges that threatened to brim over. What astounding panache, she was impressed.

“If we’re in agreement, let us proceed to see our adversaries quake in blissful agony. I can barely contain the desire to watch them writhe pitifully.” Her arms linked with his as his arm would find itself a resting place between the valley of her chest. His lips curved cocksurely at the sensation of her frame so close to him that she was practically glued.

“We’ll decimate them upon our arrival. It’s not much farther…” His bid did not fall upon deaf ears. Preparing for the numerous individuals in opposition of Medeus and Gharnef’s tyrannical rule was imperative. Nyna had no intentions of dying, not for as long as Etzel lived. Today was a day in unwritten history where innocent lives that endeavored to survive would be stripped of their vivacity.

Leaving destruction in its wake, coupled steps encroached the land. Preparations were made prior to handle this particular group composed of mercenaries and pegasus knights. Etzel deemed his enemies unworthy of his covetable tome, opting to use Blizzard instead. It’s risible how insurgents that rode the skies fell to the ground like swatted flies. Devastating arctic winds thrashed around making it nigh unfeasible for approaching foes on foot to come closer. Those who weren’t frozen in place by its sheer congealing power were abandoned to a worse outcome. Sharpened shards of ice mercilessly pierced through bodies like needles on pin cushions. Rivulets of blood dispersed as each blade of ice would continually rend flesh cleaner than any axe or sword. “Is that all you have to offer? Pathetic.” He scoffed, derision dripping from his tongue like vitriol. Condescension diffused from his lukewarm crimson eyes, full of nothing but arrant repugnance at their substandard abilities.

With Nyna were two tomes and a single staff. More mercenaries slowly entrenched from the left flank. What slowed their progress was the descry of a woman too prepossessing for warfare. Beguiling elegance and unearthly beauty held its own jeopardies of underestimation and deception. They could curse their misconstructions in the finest pits of hell. Unfettered of its bindings, Thoron’s pages flipped quickly as Nyna readied her incantation. Taking rearward steps with an oscillation of her lower body; it mirrored a provocative dance. The firmament above darkened as heavy clouds coalesced. Her hand moved in accordance to where she wanted the electric discharges to strike. Lightning bolts of matchless voltage struck each combatant down while deafening rumbles of thunder served as a symphony of slaughter. The stench of singed corpses was nearly as delightful as the scent of morning dew.

From the onslaught, spatters of gore managed to besmirch Etzel’s sun-kissed skin. As his monocle glinted ominously, a single droplet of blood trickled along it. Instead of feeling any sense of compunction, his mien displayed a proudly wicked and ruthless simper that unveiled all of his teeth. Before him was a panorama of unbridled carnage, and yet, the only sound he produced was a cruel guffaw. Massacre was a spectacle deserving of praise that Nyna would provide with avidity. Ambling in his direction, she stood behind him, slender arms enclosing his lissome frame. Her palms settled on his chest, stroking the definition of lean muscle there amorously. Optics gleamed mischievously and she brought her mouth to his neck in an open mouthed kiss. She dragged her bottom lip along a throbbing vein, before allowing herself a nibble and taste. Her sudden ministrations caused him to growl lubriciously. Whispering hotly against the skin of his neck, she made her purposes pellucid. “What stunning annihilation, it could almost satiate my craving for blood, but never of you.”

Etzel turned his face while one of his hands slipped to grasp Nyna’s chin tilting her own countenance upward. His lips hovered over hers. His gravelly breaths fed her deprived labial with what she direly demanded. He sucked on her mouth esuriently and she poured all of herself into him. None of it went to waste, not even the thin trail of saliva that connected them still. He lapped it up with an unequaled vehemence. When he withdrew from their shared osculate, he ogled the shapely outline of her nubile figure. “How could you possibly ever have enough of one as outstanding as I?” The aplomb he exuded increased Nyna’s attraction. In the form of a caress, her fingers delicately removed some of the blood at the side of his face. She smeared it along her unsullied cheek as her lips outstretched into a haunting smile. Etzel couldn’t stifle the urge, pulling her into a protective and equally possessive embrace. “Your grace remains unrivaled. Even now, marred in foul blood; your pulchritude only multiplies, my love.”

She leaned her back comfortably into the mold of his chest, allowing her hand to rest atop one of his affectionately. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

His hold around her tightened and he pressed a kiss to her temple. “At my side, none shall harm you. You belong to me, always have, but I shall make you mine again for all eternity.”

“And no danger will befall you at mine. Claim me as much as you please. It invigorates me.” Her coquettish cadence galvanized him. Alas, it was paramount to regroup with the others and inevitably report back to Medeus with Gharnef. Hesitantly, he released her, but his hand found its way into her palm, and together they returned to the sabotaged palace where their master awaited.

All of the paired groups had succeeded in their undertakings and were relieved of duty to bask in the afterglow of their heinous achievements.

Nyna led Etzel down the tenebrous corridors. Poorly lit with only flickering torch light, dexterous hands undid the front buttons of his robes. Her breath was shaky with expectancy. Glacially, she slipped the finery down his delineated shoulders, exposing the dermis of his willowy torso. Her warm lips compressed at the center of his chest; leaving in the aftermath a moistened path. His prominent clavicle caught her attention and soft gnaws at the region made him sigh euphorically. Nyna carefully dragged her tongue along his throat before sinking her fangs into the tender flesh. Etzel panted heavily, any shred of control he once had was discarded. His hands settled on each of her arms, moving her to the wall behind him, where he effectively pinioned her wrists above her head. “Forceful now, are you? Show me just how strong you’ve become.”

Her siren’s song was a melody he’d never grow weary of. He was prey to her libidinous charms. Ardor scintillated in his deep red pools as he loomed over her. Myriad words to describe Etzel existed, but starved was not one of them. His mouth found hers in the darkness and he captured her lips with a brutality unseen. Nothing about this kiss was tender or mild, rather, it was salacious and unappeasable. He filled her mouth with the intense vigor that threatened to overflow from his heart. Accepting of this reaction, she allowed his uninhibited passion to inundate her. An osculate full of clattering teeth and abused appendages; his ragged breath brushed against her tongue’s surface. Slyly, she allowed the tip of it to flick at his partially ajar labial. Her own lips were somewhat swollen from his tempestuous kisses and the bite prior to the fray. Her eyes were glossed over with suspense and want. Nyna was unquestionably beautiful and she was his, all his to perpetually keep.

“I tire of your titillation. I’ll have you to myself as I see fit.” Actualizing that threat, he drew her away from the wall, and close to his body. With her form pressed tightly on his, heat diffused so deeply, he could’ve sworn he felt it in his bones. Dazed with desire, his hands unzipped the back of her dress with a sense of urgency. He allowed part of it to fall below her collar and she eased out of it a tad to reveal more of her skin to him. Bare; that’s the state he wanted to leave her in, wholly defenseless for him to brand selfishly. Not once had she uttered a sound to his displeasure and that was soon to change. One hand slid along the curvature of her spine, as the fingers of his other dipped from the base of her neck. He conquered the expanse of her unalloyed skin with a series of fiery kisses and wanton bites. Shuddering in delight, she exhaled indelicately. Her cream colored bosom was too appetizing to ignore. When he began his assault; a set of euphonious moans surged forth from her luscious lips. Suctioning at a region as familiar to him as the maledictions he placed upon his enemies, he retired from the mistreated spot. Her right breast was unblemished, but the one on her left bore a mark scandalously near the crevice that joined the two. He admired his creation with immense pride; knowing it would take a long time to fade from her sensitive skin.

Quivering palms settled on each of his cheeks and his fingers threaded into her golden locks. In spite of the ingrained dark impulses, genuine warmth evinced from both of their gazes. “Even if I were to die and be reborn in Hell’s fire, enshrouded in nefarious smoke; I’d find my way to you again and again. Benevolent or malevolent, you’re all I ever needed in either world.” Her proclamation was earnest.

Voice lowering a few octaves, he rasped pruriently. “I have no need of the world, Nyna, only of you. A fate in which we’re forced apart is not one worth living.” He embraced her resolutely, taking her stripped shoulder with his lips in an overpowering and dissolute kiss. Nyna dissolved into his solicitous arms. Mayhap, it wasn’t so execrable to be drenched in maleficence. Cores now putrid with acrimony and immorality boasted a mystifying vitality. Love, even when warped, was too potent to shatter. A life of debauchery and moral decay was unbelievably pleasant, nor was it destitute of debased adoration. This was only the beginning of a steep and hedonistic road of bloodshed, vainglory, and longing. At each other’s side, the force of their infrangible bond was as indomitable as their combined aptitude and erudition.

Whatever the future held mattered little; the incessant constancy of this distorted romance would never dissipate, not for centuries or a millennia. Written in the stars was the inseparability of soulmates destined for both good and evil.