Garden Of The Abyss

The Argonaut simply nodded his head as he raised his hands, weaving the enigmatic spell into further completion as it revealed its daunting form; gathering into a spiral of darkness, spinning with such ferocity and power--it was something Fai knew well spelled the end of him.

Closing his eyes, he continued to draw in rough breaths.

Is this really it? Dying alone--the only person beside me being my own enemy. It's a sad end. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

Qiu...are you watching me right now? You don't have any right to judge how I go out...but, still…

There's still so much I haven't done yet--is it normal to face your end with so many regrets? I haven't defeated Sirius once yet, ate some of that new cake recipe Charlotte is learning, I have yet to see Ren become a proper man yet--I don't know if he is even still alive.

Am I really fine with this? Going out like this?

Clenching his fists tightly as sweat coated seemingly every inch of his body, he opened his eyes once more--this time, they burned with a reignited passion, a second blaze.

"The hell I am!"

From the pits of his stomach, he ignited it--the fiery essence of his magic that constantly laid within him. Coaxing that flame, he allowed it to spread throughout him. To Avdima's surprise, the tan, ponytailed man moved--bringing his hand together in what looked like a prayer.

It hurts like hell--feels like a damn fire is lit just beneath my skin. But, if I want to live, this is the price! He thought.

Even with this passion for life born anew, this momentary second stand came a moment too late as Avdima's spell cemented itself as a full-product. There it sat above his hand that pointed towards the stars; a spiral of dark energy that inhabited an even greater, denser darkness in its center.

"I'm glad you could die fighting, Fai. Now--die and fall to ruin!"

With a wave of his hand, Avdima unleashed the true nature of the spell as its ever-spiraling form opened to reveal a gateway of absolute darkness; looking into an abyss melded of nothingness, bearing dread, death, and absence of life.

From it unleashed a gathered, condensed force of this abyss--launching out as a pillar of that which stood as the antithesis of life itself--directly towards Fai.

Move, body, move! We're really going to die!...Shit! He thought.

Despite his best efforts, any movements he managed to incur came far too slow for the fastly approaching mass of abyssal darkness.

"This isn't very like you, Fai."

It wasn't Avdima's voice to speak to him; it was familiar, but from its abrupt appearance, the man on the threshold of death couldn't place it. Before he realized it, a sheet of ice stretched out beneath his feet, rising into a ramp that caused him to fall backward, sliding down it rapidly and helplessly.

"Woah--crap!"

With a harsh impact, he stopped as his head hit the wall of the newly-formed frost. Wincing and rubbing his head, he looked up to see a sight he didn't expect.

"Donatien!?"

"The very one and only."

Their reunion was interrupted as both of them turned to look at the ramp of thick, durable ice begin to crack before the spiraling assault of darkness blew away its form; sending a powerful gust carrying with it chunks of ice against the two men.

"...I'm right to believe that monster is Avdima?"

"Yeah."

"You don't like to be hurt...why is it you're so badly fatigued?"

Donatien observed the rapid breaths the exhausted comrade of his took in as he helped the man stand to his feet.

"He used some sort of stamina-draining spell before I had the chance to get serious! Really, he claims to want a good fight then pulls that…"

"Don't get distracted; keep your head in the battle."

Reliable; that was the one word that came to Fai's mind as he looked at Donatien's back as the lean, yet muscular man stepped in front of him. It was clear he had been through a battle already himself, but he didn't hesitate to step into another one.

That's just the kind of guy he is. If something needs to be done, he'll make sure it gets done--no matter the state he's in. He's the unspoken backbone of the Outlanders, the leader nobody refers to--Donatien! Fai smiled.

Letting out a cold breath through his lips as he puffed his chest out with his arms held up at his sides, Donatien prepared himself.

"I'm going to buy you some time to recover--so get some rest."

"Huh?!...There's no damn way I'm sitting back while--"

"Fai! This is our best route to victory. Put your trust in me; I've got things handled."

It was an arduous task to argue with the tactician of the Outlanders himself as he adjusted his glasses as he always did. Though it felt wrong, Fai begrudgingly nodded his head as he stayed back, watching as Donatien slowly made his way to the battlefield.

The residual winds left by the impact of Avdima's spell and Donatien's wall of ice had been occupying the field with a dance of ice and darkness, only now dissipating as the two combatants met each other with their eyes.

"You're the one Fleisch was supposed to handle. I can assume that means he failed?"

"That's right."

Donatien answered with his ever-present calmness to his voice as his navy hair flowed in the rainy winds, maintaining eye contact with the bleak mirrors of the sable Argonaut.

Looking at the appearance of the man standing across the field, Avdima squinted his eyes as he slowly took a loose stance.

He appears to have only a slight shortness of breath, but there are no visible injuries besides a few scratches and a bloody nose. If he can handle that brute with little trouble, he might be a bit of fun, after all, Avdima thought.

"I was informed you came here with the intention of handling every present threat alone."

"...?"

Avdima simply looked at the man as he spoke, watching as he cracked his knuckles. Though the glasses made the man with neatly combed-over hair seem like a scholar, his hands possessed the calluses of a fighter who trained them diligently. His knuckles were swollen and bulbous; clearly having seen a fair bit of action in their time.

"Let's see if you can handle just one."

Despite these signs of experience, there were no visible blemishes on Donatien's body--a form without scars or simple bruising.

This very fact excited Avdima, who reinforced his stance, cladding his hands with the same abundant darkness he faced Fai with.

Against an opponent like this, who can push even Fai to a swift defeat, I can't afford to take things cautiously as I normally do. I'll have to go all-out; one-hundred-percent from the start, Donatien thought.

Drawing a breath in between his slightly parted lips, the same breath left in a frost guidance as Donatien stopped in place, lowering himself slightly as he crossed his arms, tucking his hands out behind him.

I can feel it from here; this man could kill me if I hesitate for even a moment. It'll be over before I even realize what happened, so I only have one approach, he thought.

It was Avdima who waited for the first move to be made, the courtesy of the strong--or the arrogance of the confidence. This fact was one that Donatien clung to greatly as he gathered his mana to each hand, shifting the air around him to a biting cold.

In a sudden, aggressive jerk of his arms, he spread them wide like a hawk flapping its wings with a vibrant conviction in his hazel eyes.

"Skadi: Territory of Frost!"

Releasing the most rampant of storms, snowy winds birthed into existence from Donatien's call; sheets of ice both ran over the dirt and through it, shifting the integrity of the soil into ice itself as snow caked this layer of frost.

The falling rain soon transformed into hail, accompanied by gentle, plentiful snowflakes. Within moments, the verdant field surrounded by the thick forest was transformed into a howling tundra matched only by the bowels of Primordia.

Sight was compromised in the abundant storm of white being flung to and from, frosty mist coiling the winds. Movements were brought to a crawl by the quickly rising, entrapping snow formed by the very resolve to burden.

It's the very definition of a mage's "home field advantage"--unless you're an ice wielder yourself, this environment will be most disadvantageous. The snow will cling to your legs like a whirlpool of quicksand, the bitter, indomitable cold will chip away at your body. It doesn't matter what kind of powerhouse you are--the cold is inescapable, Donatien thought.