It's a Thursday night—11:45 to be precise—and a resounding clap of thunder shakes the area, rattling the bronze clock atop an ivory tower as lightning shatters the sky. After another clapping growl is belted out of the somber expanse, a heavy rain pushes through, drenching the verdant grounds of a courtyard.
In the midst of the torrential torment, stands a figure clad in burnished crimson armor and wielding a golden sword, its blade surrounded by a glowing, seemingly ethereal flame and crackling flecks of electricity. Pointing the weapon towards a figure in front of them, they dash forward with absolute speed, in an attempt to thrust it into their opponent's abdomen.
The intended target, a woman wearing a turquoise ball gown and wielding a pearl scepter in her left hand, dodges the attack in the nick of time. She parries the strike adroitly, like a master swordsman, holding her armored attacker at bay. The two seem evenly matched in strength, neither flinching or moving from their current position. Annoyed by the idea of a stalemate, The Woman gathers droplets from the downpour, forming a orb of glowing, black water the size of a cannonball in her right hand.
"Sphaeraqua!" she roars, launching the lustrous globe at close range into The Crimson Figure's chest. The attack causes him to stagger, though he doesn't fall, and instead immediately counters her blast with one of his own.
"Hallowed Maul of Dominus!"
A monstrous blast of red-hot energy shaped like a dragon's head exits his sword and hammers into The Woman's bosom, rallying her like battering rams into the wedges of a ship. This attack sends her flying far across the soaked and muddy courtyard, effectively turning the tide of the battle. Having proven he's the stronger and more resilient of the two, The Crimson Figure prepares to finish off his adversary.
"Here and now, I will bring an end to the Striga, for it is my sworn duty as a Carmen Eriline and defender of Jedwimburgh. You will not prevail, Caledonia! You will not resurrect The Undergrace!"
He raises his sword to deliver the final blow, but is abruptly stopped in his tracks by a sonorous, bone-chilling howl.
"Not so fast, my little scarlet buttercup! I gotta have a little fun too!" screeches a demonic figure in a gravelly voice. "IT'S SHOWTIME!"
Standing atop the tower beating their chest, The Figure quickly somersaults from their position, mouth wide-open with a long and large, stone-gray tongue hanging out, flapping in the wind and rain. They land just as fast as they had leaped into a crouched position on the ground, creating a three-foot deep crater from the impact.
"Don't you wanna play with a real man, Macarius?!"
"Ecferus… tch, I should've known you'd show your horrendous visage eventually."
"Awww, what's-a-matter, Macky-Boy? Not happy to see a familiar face?"
"Why would I ever be happy to see you, you traitor!" Macarius charges up his sword, pulling lightning from the sky. With the blade now gleaming a blinding white, he charges at his foe, performing a heavy slash. "AETHERIUS GLAIVE!"
Ecferus doesn't move, choosing instead to take the brunt of the attack, absorbing the electricity into his veins. The blade of the sword shatters into over a thousand effulgent shards upon impact on his coarse, furry skin.
"It's gonna take a lot more than that, Macky-Boy," Ecferus cackles as he grabs him by the collar of his armor. Realizing Macarius is in a weakened state from the powerful attack he attempted, he plunges a devastating fist covered in swirling dark energy into his gut, releasing him afterwards, where the broken knight drops to his knees. "COME HARDER!"
"I will… never… give up… on… Jedwimburgh…" Macarius barks in an act of defiance, blood oozing from underneath his helm. He continues to clutch the hilt of his obliterated sword tightly, as if he can still fight with it. This enervated and nerveless attempt at remaining self-willed falls flat, provoking laughter from both Ecferus and Caledonia.
"Well, that is quite admirable, Macky-Boy, but here's where the hooves of Death's steed meet the humus," he starts. Caledonia walks over, grabs him by the hand and they embrace while standing over Macarius before Ecferus continues. "The Undergrace will rise and become ruler of all in Jedwimburgh, buttercup. The Carmen Eriline will never stop our lord. Your attempt was valiant, that much I can say, but it was no more than such. Pity you aren't on our side."
"We could really use a wizard of your caliber," Caledonia interjects. "The Undergrace would just love you."
"I'd never…" Macarius snarls, finally gaining some semblance of strength back. "The Striga are an abomi–"
He's swiftly cut off by Caledonia kicking him in the head, cracking open his helm. The strike leaves him dazed and he falls on his back in agony, the fractured halves of his helmet collapsing along with him.
"That's enough out of you," Caledonia snoots at the humiliated, would-be hero. "Ecferus, are you ready to do away with this fool? We need to send a message to all of Jedwimburgh."
Ecferus cracks his knuckles, "Of course, my love. Let's get this over with."
The duo puts their hands together, embracing like a couple at prom for the last dance as the clock atop the ivory tower chimes twice, indicating it's twelve o'clock. Gathering a mix of rainfall and the aforementioned dark energy from earlier, they build a humongous wall of an unholy, aquatic nature. Raising it high into the sky, the two drop it on Macarius as they dance leisurely, slowly drowning him with it. The wall feels like being forced to the bottom of a freezing swamp with sarsen stones atop one's chest.
Unable to escape, Macarius succumbs to the water filling his lungs and rapidly shriveling his skin. At this point, the wall dissipates, leaving the emaciated husk of the former warrior in his now rusted and battered, crimson armor.
Ecferus shares a kiss with Caledonia, then kicks the waterlogged armor on the ground.
"Farewell, Macky-Boy… say hello to mother for me."
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