Pouncing, Vincent lashed out savagely, carving a black arc through the air as he once again began to take upon the form of a collection of shells arranged into a dark armour. Foreboding, like darkness manifest in solid form. Samael looked similar, the only part of her body not covered in black being her face.

They both danced in the corpse-fields, Samael twisting elegantly to avoid Vincent’s lightning-fast swipes. The look on his face was a fierce snarl, feral in all its aspects. But what truly caught the eye was the way the air was shimmering around him like a mirage.

Samael’s body flickered and Vincent’s claws slipped straight through as darkness condensed behind him.

Becoming a rogue shadow, Samael’s dark blade arced elegantly above Vincent’s head, slicing down his back, to the left of his spine. The wound didn’t even have time to bleed, black spines exploding out from beneath the skin. They twisted and turned with a life of their own as Vincent spun, slashing with his right arm.

Twin screams emanated from Vincent’s claws and Samael’s sword as they scraped by each other. Vincent’s left hand darted out, aiming to skewer Samael. With an elegant twist, the woman brought the lower half of her sword to block Vincent’s fingers. Sliding between two fingers, the blade cut almost halfway through Vincent’s hand before finally coming to a halt.

Vincent jumped back, holding his hand. Right between the middle and ring fingers had been sliced open to 2 inches down. Moving the fingers was intensely painful, but the flesh was already re-connecting as he looked.

“Watch out!” Samael cried with ecstasy as she came running forward, slashing upwards at a 45-degree angle. Vincent could barely move back before the attack struck, ploughing through his left arm as he put it in front of him to try and protect himself.

As the limb, severed right before the elbow, flew through the air, Vincent threw himself forwards, tackling Samael.

The impact took both of them to the ground and Vincent grabbed Samael’ sword hand with bone-crunching force, crushing the woman’s upper wrist. She was just grinning up at him as he brought his slowly healing left arm back before slamming it down onto her face. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. First, a broken nose, then crushed eye socket, flattened nose, caved in skull, and a final punch caving it in further.

Vincent lurched to his feet, staring at Samson’s corpse. The only feature left on her face was a depraved grin. He looked down to his left arm, finding just over half of his forearm back. He felt exhausted. Even more than times where his limbs had been surgically removed to make him heal them again.

His vision started to go black as he heard shouts and watched Samson’s body becoming cloaked in shadows and appear to blow away in the wind. He dropped to his knees, then his hand and forearm, then to his side, onto a soldier’s still-warm remains. He saw a pair of boots come into his vision before everything became silent and black.

The End

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