Devourer Class

Rosetta stepped forward from the group, still wearing the new purple robe and belt from the last time he saw her. Everyone else looked exactly the same, with their weapons and armor exactly how he remembered.

"Galahad? Are you alright? I think you should take a moment to process this." She firmly stated. Her had the same dignified and overly authoritative tone Galahad hadn't heard in so long.

Behind her; Victor, Mycroft, Heath, and Trista nodded their heads in unison. Clearly they were handling this reunion a little bit better than him.

". . . How?" Was the only thing he could muster after a dry swallow.

"Well its simple, we were awake in those crystals this whole time, and after you did something to the altar, we could feel it was losing its grasp on us-"

"No." Galahad interrupted as he stood up with much greater ease, his voice dropped to a much lower tone. Once the look of shock was gone, it was replaced with a blank look and trembling fists.

"I mean how did you do this? How did you know about them?"

"I-I-I don't know what you mean? Galahad are you sure you're not sick?" Rosetta seemed taken back by the lack of happiness in his tone. She couldn't understand why he wasn't overjoyed with their safety.

The group took a step back with concerned looks clearly shown across their faces, unable to figure out why Galahad was suddenly acting this way towards them. They had been friends for years, they shared so many fond memories and battles together, so why wasn't he relieved to see them?

"Take off those faces, or this will certainly bring out something worse than death." Soon Galahad's trembling transformed into an unrelenting anger and rage-filled shaking, red fire exploding from his body.

With so much anger behind it, Fury and Fyre burning output of Chi was great enough to flare all the way up to the ceiling. The cracks of magma were the widest they've ever been, making it look like he was the epicenter of a volcanic eruption.

Galahad's face became heavily distorted, and without realizing it; his black skull mask was right back on his nose. Once his face was beneath the mask, a feral snarl starting crawling up his lips. It was all a clear sign that he wasn't having any of it.

He dashed forward like a red fire bolt and slashed across Rosetta, who stood in front of everyone. Galahad brought the sword forward with a close shoulder swing, cutting diagonally across her c.h.e.s.t and knocking her to the ground. The blade managed to run a few inches through her body before the force flung her down with a heavy thud. That was only the beginning.

The swordsman could only look on in shock, before before getting thrown back against the rocks of the tunnel wall. His head slammed full force against the surface, leaving a red splatter of blood before toppling silently to the floor.

At this point, Heath, Victor, and Trista were no longer standing still with looks of surprise. They drew their weapons and took a defensive stance.

"Galahad! Please stop! We're your friends." Trista begged at him, making it clear she didn't want to fight. Her pleas and backwards retreat to the wall of the tunnel made it seem too real.

"Sure." Galahad said bluntly as he dashed towards her with murderous intent blaring from his eyes. He dodged a swing of Heath's sword and sprinted towards Trista.

While closing the twenty yard gap between him and the small assassin, Galahad stabbed the magic sword in the ground and left it a few feet behind him. Trista who had both long daggers drawn was confused at why he chose to leave the blade, until he brought his hands forward and grabbed for her wrists.

She soon realized he intended on stopping and killing her bare-handed; leaving no other option but to try and dodge to the side. Unfortunately she had backed herself up against the wall and speed of her knives was the only advantage she carried.

She tried dodging left and right, but Galahad ignored the threat of her daggers and pressed her closer to the wall. During this, Heath and Victor were checking on Mycroft; seeing how his body was quietly seizing and spilling more and more blood on the floor meant he didn't have much time left.

The expressions on their faces became indifferent, turning towards the fight between Galahad and Trista before anything else could happen.

Galahad felt they were getting closer to his backside. He wasn't sure how or why he knew they were coming, but he figured he had about ten seconds before he'd feel Victor's axe in his head.

She brought the left blade into Galahad's wrist and yanked forward. She planned to reel him in with the weapon and stab her right-hand dagger either below the sternum or through the gap of his collarbone, depending on how he'd react in defense.

What she didn't expect was in the instant of the first stab, Galahad merely faked the reckless grab. He retreated his hand earlier than she expected and the blade only went through the back of his hand and out his palm. Fury and Fyre subdued some of the pain and he was used to it already, so why not sacrifice a little pain to gain the advantage.

Before Trista could even realize her mistake, Galahad slammed his free fist into her right shoulder and ran his hand up to grab her by the throat. His actions prevented the second part of the lethal attack from taking place and gave him the opportunity to end the fight before the other two battle classes arrived.

With the boost of his only Battle class skill, Galahad picked up Trista with one arm easily and immediately slammed her to dense ground. He never let go as he picked her back up from the floor and violently brought her down again and again. The earth cracked more and more with each hit.

Horrendous crunching was made with each drop and he showed no sign of stopping such a cruel way to execute a human being.

After the fourth impact, Galahad brought her up and spun around to meet Victor's axe with his bloody shield of person. Victor was able to pull his axe back in time, but that only gave Galahad the time to wind up a throw. He flung the limp body of Trista at the berserker and turned to see Heath was already a quarter through a swing of his sword.

Galahad didn't know how else to avoid the attack, so he flinched backwards, managing to lean far enough back that the blade only made a minor slash across his c.h.e.s.t, blood starting running the front of his c.h.e.s.t piece, but that wasn't his main concern.

Heath never backed off and continued wildly swinging at him, but Galahad kept two steps worth of distance between them. He dodged and moved in what seemed like an aimless pattern, but he was drawing closer to his magic sword still halfway in the dirt floor.

Heath quickly saw what Galahad was doing and waited till he was about to turn and grab for the sword's hilt. The moment Galahad looked away from him, Heath planned a lunge with a reckless dive of his blade. Once Galahad had something to defend himself, he knew his chances of living were shot down to none.

It was one thing for Galahad to beat Trista without the sword, she had the smaller and faster attacks that would render the sword's slower attack to nothing more than a nuisance. Resorting to brute force and cornering her was the only way to end the fight before getting surrounded.

Heath was in the same boat with his attacks only being the same speed, if not even slower, and the magic sword had no problem taking someone out from a distance. The lightning strike managed to take out Mycroft in a single hit, so not even retreating sounded like an option.

Heath figured if he stayed too close to Galahad instead of keeping their distance, he wouldn't be able to pull out the sword and swing the blade's magic lightning attack in time to hit him.

Everything went exactly how Heath predicted it, but Galahad's swing wasn't releasing blue lightning, instead the blade started changing color the moment he touched the hilt.

The sword went from blue to a red-hot glow as it starting expanding. Heath didn't know how to react to the change, except convert his lunge to a twisted parry midair, making contact with the hot metal against his own.

Galahad predicted the lunge and only he knew that the lightning attack needed to recharge. He did the only thing he could do with the magic weapon, he converted the blade from a shortsword to a longer blade with a heavy spearhead-shaped tip. With only a small room for movement, he wanted to put as much weight at the end of the blade as possible, so he could have some force to strike Heath.

What he didn't expect was the magic sword's ability to cleave through the cold metal blade, breaking into two pieces. Then everything became very strange.

The broken pieces began spilling globs of blood like an open artery.

Heath had taken a rolling fall from the attempt to stay alive. When he stopped rolling, Galahad saw his eyes were now rolled into the back of his head and he let out screech that resembled a shrill w.h.i.n.e combined with outburst of pain.

The inhuman screaming and bleeding weapons didn't faze him, he figured out these abominations weren't his friends the moment they stepped forward. He definitely didn't have the luck of them just escaping and coincidentally finding him months down the road near a dungeon gate in a different city. It was all clear a trap.

'Well I didn't expect its blade to snap, let alone start bleeding. But hey! might as well strike while the iron is hot.' Galahad thought as he ran towards Victor, who was busy dealing with the dead Trista.

It seemed even though they were some kind of monster, they cared for one another in what he could only consider a symbiotic relationship. Having numbers in a dungeon was a benefit that adventures and demons shared against each other.

The false Victor thought Galahad would focus on Heath long enough to escape with any of the not dead replicas, but it seemed only the two of them were left. He was still kneeling by the bodies he moved aside, so he had only enough time to bring its axe up in defense when Galahad came charging forward with a lunge of his own.

Rather than avoiding the axe with his swing, Galahad kept running forward with his sword tip poised forward. He ran the still hot blade through the side of the axe and it pierced the false metal. It carried on as Galahad kept running, the fat end of the sword went into the monster's abdomen and skewered all the way out the end of his back.

Galahad still didn't stop there, he kept running and the body was now a few inches off the ground. He didn't stop until the end of the sword impaled it to the wall. The impact driving all the air and blood out of its fear-stricken face. Being hung there to bleed out was all it could picture with no way of escaping alive.

Even the axe started bleeding, causing the black hilt of the sword to go red.

"Stupid f.u.c.k.i.n.g mimics." Was all Galahad had to say towards the carnage he created.