Alice landed hard on a nearby car that was already in ruins.
Beatrice barely crawled up beside her in panic as she tried to check her pulse and shook her to wake up.
"Alice... Alice, please! Wake up!" She cried out, her voice cracking with desperation.
Her hands were bloodied from crawling over shattered glass and debris. Her face was streaked with soot, and tears welled in her eyes as she tried to rouse her friend.
But Alice was still, her breaths faint and shallow.
Beatrice's breathing quickened. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the crumbling sounds of the town behind her–until a voice slithered into her mind like ice down her spine.
"You fought well. Truly... admirable."
She snapped her head up.
The hooded man stood above them, crimson hair wild and dancing in the wind, his jagged scar giving him the face of a demon in flesh.
His eyes were wide with ecstasy, like a fanatic standing before a divine altar.
"But alas... not well enough." His voice trembled, not with fear tho but rather with the devout reverence of a lunatic.
He spread his arms out. "You need not die here tho. Our god–the great Deivaros Veirs Crimson–he is merciful. And our pope will surely welcome you with open arms."
He then lowered his arms slowly, solemnly. "Swear your faith. Join the Demon Cult. Become part of the kingdom that is to come."
Beatrice clenched her fists. Her vision blurred with rage and disgust.
"I'd rather die than serve a mass-murdering lunatic."
The smile vanished from the man's face like a candle snuffed out.
His expression twisted–no longer pious, but seething with hatred.
He whispered an incantation. "Ignis flamma gladium, voca..."
FWOOOOM!
A blade of roaring flame exploded into existence in his hand. The heat washed over Beatrice like a furnace, her eyes widened in defiance.
"Then so be it."
He raised the blade, like a madman ready to strike the unconverted.
But just as he was about to–
WOOOOM.
A wave of mana tore through the street like a tsunami. The man froze, his eyes widening. He then looked up and saw it.
A figure walking toward him through the smoke and ruin, each step echoing like the drums of judgement.
White hair. Red eyes. A presence like death cloaked in calm.
It was Richard.
The man blinked–and Richard vanished.
CRACK!
The next thing he saw was a fist, right in front of his face.
BOOM!
His body was launched like a cannonball, hurtling across the square before crashing through the partially destroyed diner.
CRRRRRSHHHH!!!
The building collapsed, burying the last desperate civilians beneath flame and rubble.
Richard stood there in silence for a moment, eyes scanning Beatrice and Alice.
He raised a hand and a dark, warm light flowed from his palm. Shadows twisted around their bodies like tendrils of night.
Beatrice gasped as the pain dulled in her legs, arms and all over her body.
"Dark magic can heal too," Richard said softly, almost like he was amused at the irony.
After all Dark magic was labeled the demon's magic amongst humans after all.
Then he straightened, stretching his limbs as if waking up from a nap.
FWOOOSH.
The red-haired man landed in front of him again, his face bloodied and seared, rage burning in his eyes.
Richard simply grinned at the sight of him as he said.
"Come on then. Let's play."