If you are new, read these two first:
Author's Note: The final part! For those reading, I hope you've been waiting, for that will make me more than happy in posting this!
LINK TO THE SONG OF INSPIRATION, Archangel by the godly Two Steps from Hell: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mLUguXpUIb0&feature=plcp&context=C405f727VDvjVQa1PpcFNacbSpp77NFGpYLQF2jY9dAKrUpd5k_po%3D
(This part is corresponding to when the female voice kicks in and all hell coalesces into a ball of pure of epic.)
In that click, Chyrsaor and Malchion first charged at each with deadly speed. When the two titans came within an inch’s distance from each other, they threw up their swords in offense of each other. A brilliant white flash of swift and explosive plasmaic contact enveloped them, but they did not succumb to the radial shockwave that followed. Instead, the two nemeses became all the more rapid.
Immediately their swords cut through the air, peppering the surrounding air with scratch marks. Sparks of energy from the clashing of their plasma blades were so numerous that the once-transient and separate lines of light coalesced into little balls of illumination, casting a glow on the two combatants and over the lines in the air, which shone thick, alternating bands of light and shadow over the armies on the ground.
The two fighters continued to battle. As one swung at the other, the latter defended successfully and counterattacked in retaliation, but the other would do likewise; the full fury of one towards the other’s dogmatic rhythm only made the pulse of the fight beat even faster, and faster, and faster—Slash! Parry! Lateral Slash! Vertical Block! Cleave! Parry! Counterattack! Block! Counterattack! Block—
He looked down and saw the plasmaic tip of the Great Lance Sword in his chest.
Malchion only laughed when he plunged the Sword deeper into Chyrsaor’s body until the hilt landed on Chyrsaor’s robe, and then he yanked it out.
Chyrsaor then hovered, eerily motionless, arms raised in front of his torso, legs angled forward. It was like he was floating in water.
Malchion, eyes now white with pure jollity at the sight of Chyrsaor’s demise, looked down upon the warriors below, and bellowed, “BEHOLD, ARCHANGELS! YOUR LEADER IS GONE!” He cackled, and they continued to look. “SUBMIT TO MY WILL AND OVERTHROW THE DAMNED CREATOR, OR YOU SHALL RECEIVE HIS FATE!” He pointed at Chyrsaor’s motionless body, which was awash with the glow of the plasma ball that had appeared during their fight.
Without warning the light threw itself at Chyrsaor’s back and entered the hole in the body.
Chyrsaor opened his eyes, the irises were blackened with fire.
They met Malchion’s eyes, white with fear of what was to come—
Chyrsaor’s body lunged at Malchion with ghostlike speed and viciously yanked the Great Lance Sword of the Three Suns out of Malchion’s hand. Wasting no time, Chyrsaor stomped on Malchion’s chest, forcing him down to the ground. They tumbled through the air like a rogue asteroid.
Out of nowhere, a woman’s voice chanted:
Whenever the siren wails,
They shall answer the call.
Whenever danger sounds,
There will be their shields,
stark and round.
Whenever the anthem plays,
Their swords shall be raised.
Whenever evil persists,
They shall resist.
For the ArchAngels never yield
in the face of evil.
As the chant rang, and in one, deft move, Chyrsaor’s body cut Malchion’s black heart, cut Malchion’s black wings off, and cut off Malchion’s head, blackened by the fire in Chyrsaor’s lifeless eyes.
The anthem faded soon faded away, as did the two bodies.
With that, the partition click ended, and the ArchAngels and Malchionites continued their fight.
I hope you enjoyed this!
You are free to comment/flame at will. (Trolls will attack this for being non-AT.)