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SQUELCH

A pair of eviscerations swept across the unguarded back of the Dread, coming the dual-dagger wielding demi-human who didn\'t stick around any longer than she had to, avoiding a retaliatory glare from the Dread. Even with just a stare, the being of utter violence managed to summon a small-scale explosion of darkness, to which Yuna barely flipped past to avoid.

…Yes! Asher thought.

That small distraction was enough to give him a tiny push, piercing through the layer of sable skin of the Dread as the tip of his claymore neared the entity\'s heart.

"...I have a purpose…! I am a necessity of this world!" The Dread spat out, "--I\'ve seen it through the ones of the one originally wielding this body! This world is diseased! It is foul! Beyond saving! I will wipe it all out, and give it a new chance…! A better world will come from those who learned!"

"Shut up!" Asher yelled, "This world…isn\'t yours to decide anything for!"

Bolstering himself in the Devil Force that empowered his entire being, Asher stomped his foot down as he summoned all of his strength for one more push, inching the blade deeper into the Dread\'s foul vessel.

"...No! I will…not fall!"

As the Dread howled with a primordial echo to his bellowing voice, distorted by rage, he raised his absent arm, once more summoning a projection of darkness like an ethereal armor.

"--!"

Before Asher could pierce the being\'s fragile, thumping heart, feeling it resonate against the steel of his blade, the Dread now gripped onto the claymore with both hands, beginning to pull it out.

Not like this…! I was so close! Asher thought.

"Nnnngrah!" The Dread howled out, inching the steel out.

As Asher felt himself being overpowered, with his muscles cramping and his body screaming at him as it far since reached its limit in the fantastical contest of strength, an inexplicable shadow loomed over.

"--What?!" The Dread glanced back.

From behind, a burly figure wrapped his arms under the Dread\'s shoulders, getting him into a full-nelson lock.

"Everett?!" Asher called out.

The half-dead bumpkin coughed out, holding the figure in the lock as blood squirted from his numerous wounds, "Hurry…! I can\'t hold \'im long!"

"Unhand me…!" The Dread hissed.

BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP.

As the drums of horror thumped once more, the Dread\'s body began to violently vibrate, reeling in a yell of agony from Everett as the vibrations agonized his wounds. A single stumble came from Everett, though to the surprise and dismay of the Dread, the figure did not cease his hold.

"...How?! What\'re you made of?!" The Dread asked.

Everett wryly chuckled, "I\'m just…a good ol\' fashioned human!"

Though hesitation kept Asher\'s blade still as he stood there, perplexed as his helm crumbled away, staring straight at Everett.

"What\'re ya\' waitin\' for?!" Everett yelled.

"I can\'t do this without hitting you, too!" Asher explained.

Everett winced as the vibrations continued terrorizing his body, "I…I already was prepared for that! Just…do it! I can\'t hold \'im much longer than this!"

The act of selflessness took hold of those witnessing the scene; Yuna and Melisande both were frozen in the moment, but Asher, holding that claymore in his hands and knowing the danger of the Dread, knew well what he had to do.

"...You\'re a good man, Everett," Asher said.

Everett smiled, "--Ya can compliment me after that sword is through this sucker\'s heart!"

The exchange of resolve was a soulbound agreement between Asher and Everett; both understood what needed to be done, even if it came at a sacrifice of life. It was a hard choice, and one that needed to be made in a split-second; Asher knew he would have to thrust that blade forward without regrets–however, there was no fear of making the wrong move as he could feel the impervious courage of Everett before him.

"Do it!" Everett yelled.

"Nnnngraah-!" The Dread screamed a primordial echo, rippling the soil around itself as the shock wave fought against the bumpkin\'s hold.

Without taking any second chances, the Devilheart raised his claymore as a spike of demonic energy spiraled around him, reinforcing the armor that spawned around his body and empowering himself to the highest degree possible.

"What\'s your family name?" Asher asked.

It was a question of respect; the Devilheart sent this question as a final way of honoring the man, or more aptly, to gain a means of honoring him by remembering his full name.

Everett strained himself, flexing his muscles with all of his might as he kept the thrashing Dread anchored to the one spot, "...Everett! Everett Shieldholder!"

The name was surprising, but at the same time, it was hardly surprising–fitting for the man who embodied the concept of a \'shield\' to the very end.

"I\'ll make sure all know of the brave knight–Everett Shieldholder," Asher said.

A small chuckle left the country born recruit\'s lips while the Dread continued howling out, witnessing the empowered Devilheart point his illustrious blade forward, gathering it in a veil of demonic force.

…And I\'ll make sure you\'re put down for good, Dread, Asher thought.

Just as Asher lunged forward, spearing his claymore forward as it crackled against the sky with bolts of nefarious energy, the strength of Everett faltered only the slightest–however, that slight loosening of the hold was enough.

The Dread flexed its torn body, propelling a massive shock wave from himself, "--Hraaaah!"

"Ngh–?!" Asher felt himself being knocked back.

It was a desperate release; the shock wave rippled across the fields, knocking over eviscerated trees and flinging both of the recruits back as the Dread freed itself from the bumpkin\'s hold.

"...No! Grrrh…dammit!" Everett coughed out.

The Milligarde-born shielder dropped to his knees, having spent his body as it was pushed far beyond its limits, unable to stand properly before Yuna extended a hand to him after appearing by his side.

Everett looked at the woman\'s hand, "...We were so close."

"You\'re still alive, so that counts for something," Yuna told him.

It was written all over Everett\'s bruised and cut face that he was unhappy with how it all happened, but he accepted the demi-human\'s hand by smacking and clasping it, being helped to his feet.

"What now?" Yuna asked.

Everett breathed out, "...Pray for a damn miracle."

Just as the man said that, his consciousness finally gave out, slumping over before being caught in Yuna\'s arms.

"...Reckless idiot," Yuna said.

Even as the Dread\'s own vessel was mutilated, missing an army and soaked in blackened blood, dripping like a fish out of water, the potency of its primordial bloodlust had not faded as the entity stood there.

Melisande had her hands pointed towards the Dread, standing a good dozen meters away, but even with a clear shot and ample time to cast a spell, she could feel herself unable to draw a proper amount of breath from her anxious lungs.

…I can\'t focus. Looking at it…having to fight it now…how did any of them do it?! Even the air itself is tightening! Melisande thought.

As the Dread raised its head with blood-soaked, jet-black tufts of hair befalling its face, a single glare from its eye to the silver-haired girl froze her completely in the grips of terror.

For some reason, the Dread chose her direction to begin moving towards, but it was clear that the unholy figure had his sights set past her.

…Me? No…It wants him, Melisande realized.

As she glanced back, Emilio was still laying on the ground, groaning in deep slumber from his strained body.

The Dread marched forward, lugging its wounded body as a trail of dark blood was left in its wake, keeping those malignant eyes on the slumbering Dragonheart.

"I won\'t let you…!" Melisande said, "--Wind Bore!"

A ball of wind was compressed in front of the rookie mage\'s hands, swirled around to gain torque before being shot like a cannonball forward, piercing the air and aimed for the Dread\'s chest.

FWOOSH

It slammed against the blackened being, halting it for a moment but leaving no visible wound–not so much as a scratch before the Dread silently continued marching towards Melisande.

Nothing…? She thought.

An immovable wall it was; the Dread was unimpeded and unaffected by the girl\'s magic–even after multiple usages of the piercing wind were shot forth, it did nothing to slow down the march of the malicious figure.

"...The boy…I need him–I can feel it," the Dread spoke as if Melisande did not exist, "...He is connected to \'that one\', just as I. A good soldier must not be wasted, not in the war to come."

Though it sounded as crazed spiels left the lips of the bleeding figure, Melisande couldn\'t help but feel an ominous meaning arriving from the Dread\'s mouth.

"I won\'t let you–I won\'t," Melisande shook her head, standing firmly.

She was left face-to-face with the terrifying presence of the Dread, who looked down at her with exhausted eyes as pitch-black blood dripped down onto the soil below.

…The air coming off of it–it\'s rotten. Just being this close to him, it\'s burning the back of my throat, Melisande thought.