Chapter I: The Headless Cross, page 3Mature

The German did not charge this time, instead raising his swordless hand towards his opponent. A large snake-like plume of fire poured out of his palm and to the knight, who raised his free hand as well, and was engulfed in a holy shield of light that deflected the fire snake into a nearby building that burst into flames. His enemy weakened by the energy he consumed, the knight then charged again, but as he was about to deliver the fatal blow, the German suddenly turned to smoke and plain disappeared. The knight stopped, checked his breathing, tried to cool down and stay focused. He knew what was coming next.

Feeling the blow before it even came, he raised his sword behind his back and felt it clash against his enemy's. Treacherous and cunning, as always. He turned back to face him, their swords still pushing against each others, and as they applied more force, there seemed like none could take the upper hand, and their heads almost touched as their arms trembled from their opposing strengths. They said no word. Enraptured as they were in the intensity of their mutual hatred, they pushed even stronger, and there was another spark as both swords were snatched from their owners' hands to land several dozen feet away. Now unarmed, the knight summoned his magic and raised both palms against his enemy, shining with holy light. The officer did the same move, and hellish flames appeared again to oppose the light, the opposition of the two forces creating a sphere of energy whose might pushed the two opponents back little by little, as they were roaring and struggling to overcome this immense power. Stormlike gusts of wind swept through the street, snatching the street lights from their posts, blowing the cars away, creating more cracks in the already fragile buildings. Then there was a deep sound like a rolling thunder as the building closest to the battle began to collapse on its foundations, and focused as they were on bringing one another down, the fighters did not see it coming when they were burried under tons of bricks and stones and cement.

Then the sirens went quiet. The steel birds and the flying whales had cleared the sky. Fires were still rampaging throughout the city, but an eerie sensation of quietness was quickly gaining ground. The battle had ended, and London was still standing.

Several minutes passed when a part of the rubbles that had buried the two fighters burst like a geyser, and the German stood up, unharmed, his eyes more blazing than ever. Having regained his thoughts, he went on to search the rubbles frantically, almost in panic.

"Where is it? Where is it!!" he groaned as his hands dug like a dog. Eventually his fingers touched leather, and he dug out the body of the British pilot, now returned to his armorless form. With a victorious smile, he ripped the body's jacket open, revealing a black shirt and a white clerical collar... and nothing else. His smile faded right away.

"You got to be kidding me!" he roared out. "Where is it?"

With renewed panic, he started digging all around the body, not finding what he was looking for. Someone shouted in the distance. He raised his head, trying to determine where that came from. There were voices. Several voices, coming in his direction. Soldiers looking for survivors. Many of them. Dressed as he was, they would never let him go, and if he battled them, he would be revealing himself. No, he couldn't stay here. But he was so close! For a moment he stood there, contemplating battling the whole British army on his own. Of course he would win, but he would also attract the ire of The One above. No, he couldn't take this chance. Hissing with frustration, he disappeared in smoke.

The End

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