There was a connection between a Phantom Horse and their rider, but even without it, Mayhem was smart and knew him well enough to not be fooled. She replied by huffing once, her breath rising as steam in the cool air. Only now did he notice Mayhem beside him, clearly watching from what he could tell, though her eyes remained hidden behind the armour. He heard a snort and the sound of a hoof pawing the soil. Strife groaned, running a hand across his mask. It was still pitch black, though his glowing eyes could make out some of his surroundings, and thankfully there was nothing but trees and sleeping angels. He was in a forest deep within the Cloudbreaker Mountains. ![]() It took him a moment to remember where he was, and realize that he wasn’t actually on Eden. Strife gasped, suddenly wide awake, heart pounding in his chest. The Nephilim had been erased as utterly as a people could be.īony hands pulled him down, as the undead Nephilim closed ranks, until there was hardly room to move. No redemption, no second chance, no cleansing in the land of the dead and rebirth. Death had seen to it, without protests, the heartless bastard. But had that been enough? Enough to be rewarded with this new life, incredible power and near immortality?Įnough to escape punishment, when everyone else had paid the ultimate price? Strife knew that the Council had ordered their very souls destroyed. Realised the whole, horrific magnitude of their actions and decided to no longer partake in the slaughter. More than some perhaps.īut he’d realised that their murderous rampage needed end. He had as much blood on his hands as any of them. WHY DID WE DESERVE TO DIE, WHILE YOU LIVE?! That was all Strife could think, as she grabbed him by his mask, pulling his face close to hers. Of all of us, why did you deserve a second chance? So, why you? the Vindicator questioned, once again getting into his face. You can’t hide behind your mask and your duty. You’re the same monster you’ve always been. The one holding him by the scarf pushed him away, and Strife was caught by two others, their skeletal fingers seizing him with unnatural strength. With blade and bullet, another chimed in, despite his lower jaw missing and the tattered tongue uselessly hanging out. There was never a place for us in all of creation. Were our lives not worth protecting?Īnother suddenly grasped him by the scarf and yanked violently, almost knocking Strife off his feet and bringing the Horseman close to his rotting face. ![]() Now you masquerade as a protector of the Balance, she hissed, her claws scratching across the surface of his mask, her own shattered around the right eye, revealing part of an almost mummified face. Not to feel.Ī Vindicator stepped forth from the group, and raised her hand. ![]() The entire time he had tried not to think. But he hadn’t enjoyed it…right? Much of what had happened that day was a blur. The heart-pounding thrill of combat was something they all naturally craved and yes, he had felt it even when battling his own kin. He had always enjoyed fighting, killing it was a Nephilim-thing. Any job that gave you the thrill of killing something…someone.ĭid you enjoy it? When you slaughtered us. No, you enjoyed it so much you made it your profession. And so did you.īut for you it wasn’t enough. We followed them into battle countless times. We followed our elders, their teachings and orders. But that only seemed to enrage the dead further.ĭo you think yourself better than us? A warrior spat, and then one by one they took their turn. He took a deep breath and actually holstered Mercy. He didn’t want to look them in the eyes.Īre we not your enemy? A cold, female voice snarled. Strife tried to keep his eyes on the ground. His brothers and sisters were now surrounding him, having stopped just out of arms reach. Strife didn’t draw Redemption, instead he just stood there, waiting. The risen Nephilim came closer, and more crawled out of the ground, emerging from beneath the bones of those slain in their crusades. Why was he forced to face them once more? He had killed them once and done it again, when that witch Astarte had raised them as her minions. They were closing in from all direction, blocking his escape.Ī part of him refused to go down without one, but his heart grew heavy at the thought. They had found him again, and in the haze dark silhouettes appeared all around the Horseman.
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