The warrior slowly walks towards the possessed boy. The talisman around his neck gleams brightly against his dark features as he approaches. He had been hunting the demon for several days. Using the talisman and discarded victims of possession to guide him. Now the talisman begins to burn hot, sensing his command, ready to unleash its powers and send the abomination back to the Pit.
This one is a strong one, he thinks, observing its darkened features... its black aura. It will be much too fast for me to outmaneuver.
Good.
Basic hunting technique.
Bait it.
Until it comes to me.
They always do... he thinks to himself. Eyeing the dark abomination.
Then he raises his voice.
Demon of the Pit. The false Light has you. The Mad Light surrounds you. Who gave you permission to roam these lands? Who would ever accept your worthless existence here?
And see you, sniveling in this child’s body. Hiding in his flesh. Striking at those too unequipped to be a real threat. You pathetic coward.
The demon takes in the insult. As it does, the boy’s face contorts from a rigid fury into a murderous leer. Without speaking, the boy’s body lifts and begins to hover towards the warrior. A bruised, bloody carcass in mid flight.
It took in every word. Good. The attack will be swift. Then I must not miss. If I do, it will grip me. Possess me. Break me. Then in its insulted pride unleash its fury on every living creature it can find until anything with breath of life on this Island ceases to exist. He had seen the rage before. Survived it.
Sounds vomited themselves out of the boys throat. More hissing and grunts of rage than human speech.
You. Black. Blot.
You. Rotten. Piece. Of. Meat.
The warrior grips the molten dagger in his right hand tightly as the entity lifts the puppet child closer and closer to him. He sheaths his bow staff. Readies the talisman on his chest. Wait for the moment. He thinks to himself.
Coward. The warrior repeats. The only worthless thing here is you. You have been warned. Return to the darkness from where you came, or I will remove you by force. I will burn the power off of you and expose the pathetic mist that you truly are. The only thing you will truly ever be. Then hurl your wretched form so far down the Pit, you will be forgotten by your own brethren for more than a thousand years.
The hovering boy slowed. Its fury was so great, the boy’s skin appeared to bake.
Is that so?
More vomited words.
Yes. It is.
Oh really?
It holds the boy in mid air. The heat of its rage turning the boy’s skin into a blackened layer of ash.
You really think you are able to do all that?
An explosion of theblackest fury.
Blinding, horrific speed. The square hushed into sudden, terrible quiet, followed by a deafening boom.
The demonic entity already reaching the dark skinned man before the thunder clap could warn of the deadly approach.
It was on him, like something out of a blurred nightmare. Grotesque limbs hammering down, barely caught by the human eye.
An explosion of light. A magnificent cloud of steaming, shimmering dust. A terrible shriek carrying across the entire square. Beyond the bushes. Into the sky. Silence.
Suddenly, the boy’s body on the ground. A noisy, billowing darkness, thick flakes of blackened ash, ripping out of his lifeless beaten form. The dark ash cloud seemed to have suddenly been revealed out of nowhere, trapped beside a bloody dead boy in the middle of a bright noon day. The lifeless boy’s mouth wide open, but noise no longer vomiting out of his throat. All the screaming came from the ash itself.
The billowing entity begins to seep away from the warriors trap, the boiling dust still lingering in the air and around its form causing it terrible pain. Its retreat is weak, the ash sinking lower and lower to the ground, as if filling with water, until it hugs the ground like a heavy fog.
Yes. I do. He says from behind the white hot dust particles.
Like a corporeal shadow, the warrior steps out of the sun dust he created, advancing on his crippled demonic quarry. The markings on his arms, white from the heat of the dust trap, return to normal as the dust particles dissipate. He raises the molten dagger, no longer solid, but dripping with molten flame. Ready for the ritual.
Pathetic. The warrior thinks, watching the demon in its weakened state. They are so powerful when possessing us... Why that is... I will never understand. In reality, they seem little more than an intrusive vapor.
The demon knew it was going to be banished. It knew it now. It had been riding high on the dominance, the unstoppable power the little meat puppet had given it. But now it could feel the truth of the warrior’s burning dagger. Of the gold talisman. A terrible potency. This rotten meat slave was going to use these weapons to return it to the deepest darkest and most terrible part of its earthly prison. After all its years of awful struggle. All its years trying to get out. Trying to escape. The utter powerlessness of that place.
It.
Would.
Not.
Go.
Through.
That.
Again!!!!
Demon of the false light. I banish you to the Pit. The talisman on the warriors chest suddenly burns brighter. A brilliant mix of white and yellow. As it heats itself, a circle of burning hot light begins to form around the dirty black fog. It is screaming now, the demon. Screaming directly at the warrior. Screaming at all the world. Its language inhuman, indecipherable, but its suffering and fear of the warriors spell very evident. Flaming dagger poised, the warrior begins to pray....
Then an arm grabs his own. The dead boy has him firmly in his grasp.
Without thinking, the warrior grabs the rigid blistered hand in a vice grip, popping the arm bone out of the boy’s shoulder socket, then slashing at the unholy child’s torso with his fire-dagger.
Stop.
In an awful instant, the demon hunter realizes. Not possessed. Still alive. In agony. A shivering corpse. His skin... burnt ash. His entire body… bloody, tattered flesh. His face… swollen. Almost completely blind. His mouth. Wide open. Teeth bared. But not murderous. Screaming. Silently. Wordlessly. Screaming in pain. Begging for aid.
He stays the dagger just in time. Gently releases the dislocated arm. No time to fix the injury... the ritual must not be interrupted. He pushes the boy away as gently as he can. The boy squirms in indescribable pain and crumples back to the ground, the cry leaving his throat unable to be heard.
He realizes it a fraction too late. He stayed the dagger. In the heat of the moment, he stopped the banishing spell. The circle of fire, the burning light...gone. Dissipated around the ashy fog still hugging the ground at his feet.
All it needed.
He tries to ready himself. It will -
A terrible lurch.
Ashy blackness enveloping him from head to toe.
A voice suddenly filling his head. Intruding right into his deepest and innermost thoughts. A malevolent growl of triumph.
You.
Impetuous.
Fool.
Both warrior and demon know this will not be a wasted moment. The demon’s true form immediately begins to absorb itself into his heart. Ash seeping underneath his garments. His skin. He feels a terrible shift in his mind, as if all his existence had suddenly been forced aside. Kicked out of the flesh shell. Replaced with a madness. An overbearing madness. And malice. And power. And memory. And knowledge. Knowledge too old... too terrible to describe. An evil truth. Hidden in darkness. Waiting to be whole again. A potent, sulphuric hatred. Living, and terrible. Long dead. Yet never dead. An exhilarating promise of absolute control. Of cascading death.
The terror and madness shook the demons newest puppet to his core. But the warrior was prepared for such a moment as this.
Suddenly the talisman on his chest burned white hot. He heard the chilling laughter in his head become an excruciating scream. His existence squeezed back into his shell. The terrible entity fleeing the new home. The warrior suddenly had his own mind again, feeling the talisman savagely burn the possessing demon completely out of his body. The dark ash, wailing in renewed agony, was suddenly physically beside him again.
You coward!!! The warrior gasps. Dropping to his knees. Shaking as he recovers from the close call. No more mistakes. His fingers singe as he grabs the talisman, still boiling hot from its latest spell. He resists the burning heat, turning the perforated gold in the direction of the possessing entity. He blowing again, sending the boiling dust from the sacred metal directly towards the agonized wailing. A blast of shimmering light. A sizzling cloud. A fresh trap.
Crack!!!
The tree branch smashes into the warriors face with a force that sends him flying across the square.
Pain and confusion.
What? How? He thinks, mid flight. He throws his arms over his head. Bracing for impact. He hits a structure with brutal force. The hut’s wall cracks from the collision. His body empties of air. A sharp crippling pain around his rib cage as he drops to the ground. He tries gulping for air. Tries to stand. Spit. Blood. Bile. Washing over his throat.
He squints at his trap. The boiling dust is now several feet away. Behind it. A silhouette. Shifting. Sliding. A child’s shape. Moving weirdly. Avoiding touch with the cloud of boiling light.
Black smoke trailing in and out of his skin.
The poor boy.
Repossessed.
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