Restoration: Cursed Memories(Book 2)

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Chapter 9: After the Rain(Bonus Scene(Part 5))

Cyra a devil, and one of the highest birth. Legend foretelling that those before her are destined to eternally walk in her shadow. Surtr, a god of fire, one standing to crush down on all those before him, to reign supreme as an unchallenged deity. Both of these mighty powers staring down the other. The wrath of the flames engulfing the village. The screams slowly settling, the villagers taking notice of the two.

The Elven looking on with trembling eyes, unable to believe anyone, but most of all, a devil being able to stare down with the god of fire himself. Cyra extending her blade, glancing to it. The maiden knowing well that Lævateinn is unable to reach full capacity. Such putting her at a severe disadvantage against the terrifying foe before her.

“Lævateinn quivers before me, hm hm, good,” Surtr cracking his knuckles.

The deity looking on, seeing her unwavering eyes. Even though her weapon itself is afraid to battle, the devil refusing to relent. Such intriguing him. To have the will to battle, when even one of the legendary treasure are unwilling to do so.

“That is fine, I only require half my capacity, and nothing more,” she daringly speaks.

The maiden looking on, seeing the ground beneath Surtr’s feet burning away by the second. The fire intensifying, spreading through his entire body. Cyra looking on in unease, feeling the heat steadily increasing.

“Burn away, devil,” he confidently speaks.

Surtr dematerializing, bursting into flames. The fire spreading through the area, intensifying the heat. Cyra looking above, seeing an inferno descending upon her. The maiden dashing away without a moment to spare. Narrowly avoiding the attack as it crashes down onto the field. The fire intensifying, spreading high into the sky. Out of the inferno, Surtr emerging, rushing at the maiden with intense speed. Cyra adjusting her stepping, directly rushing at the god. Her blade widely extending, soon closing in for a more acute strike.

The fist of the god colliding against the demon sword, an intense shockwave ripping through the area. Cyra dashing to his side, continuing her assault. The deity repelling her attack once again. This pattern continuing on. The maiden attempting to strike from each angle, sliding around his defenses, but it is appearing the god of fire has an impenetrable wall. Cyra taking a step back, seeing the flames intensifying around the deity. The maiden glancing to Lævateinn. The legendary weapon cowering even more, feeling the intensity of the pressure crushing down upon the area.

“At this rate...he can destroy Lævateinn...I have to think of something, and fast...” sweat running down the side of her face.

Surtr expanding his arms, the deity proudly taking a step towards her. Cyra looking on, uncertain on what action to take. The maiden never combatting an opponent of such a level before. Time is running out, and it is appearing she as well is reaching an end.

“Do you see now? It is pointless to resist my influence. You still have a chance, join me, and all can be forgiven,” he offers once again.

Cyra standing straight, lowering her weapon. The blazing heat intensifying by the second. The Elven and villagers looking on. A smirk coming to Surtr’s face. The deity lowering his arms, standing to his side, extending a hand towards hers.

“Your decision then?”

“Apologies, but I serve no one,” her eyes piercing through the god.

Her answer first taking him by surprise, soon anger growing within his eyes. The god of fire directly facing her, wondering how anyone can still refuse the power he holds. The maiden extending her blade, glancing to Lævateinn, her eyes of uncertainty are upon it.

“Lævateinn, I ask of you. Lend me your aid, otherwise, we both will falter,” she pleads.

Malevolence slowly circling around the weapon, quickly spiraling. The sword trying to resonate with her pleas. Feeling the crushing pressure of Surtr against it. Resisting the influence all around it. Cyra looking ahead, seeing Surtr cracking his knuckles. His fiery eyes piercing right into her soul.

“Play time is over.”

The god of fire stomping down on the ground with his right foot, causing lava to pierce from the ground. Extending high above into the air. The Elven along with the villagers looking on in shock. Seeing lava trapping the two in an arena. There appears to be no exit, the maiden looking around, feeling the scorching heat hitting against her. Cyra falling to her knee, holding her hand to her chest, gasping for air.

“The longer you fight here, the less oxygen you will have to work with. You should be honored, I rarely ever take to such measures. Especially for a weakling,” he confidently speaks.

“As it stands now...I cannot keep this up much longer...” she slowly rises to her feet.

Cyra looking on, her vision slowly blurring. The blazing heat striking against her. Her lungs feeling as if it will collapse from the inside out. Truly a fearsome enemy the god of fire is.

“Burn away...” he speaks, his body bursting into flames.

Cyra looking on, the fierce fire rapidly surrounding her. There appears to be no way out. The fire hastily closing in. The maiden attempting to hold her ground in a defensive stance. The flames colliding within every direction. Cyra feeling the scorching fire tearing away at her. The devil struggling to resist the intensity of the flames. Closing her eyes, biting in the intense pain. Her eyes soon opening in devastation, feeling the fire intensifying, the flames extending far and wide. An inferno forming, spiraling high above.

“Hhhrrrnnn....AAAAAHHH!!!” she screams out in excruciating pain.

The flames slowly dispersing, Surtr taking form from a distance. The god of fire folding his arms, looking at her, feeling proud of his power. Cyra standing there, the color from her eyes are no more. The maiden trembling, steam escaping from her. Her body hanging low, unable to resist any longer.

“I am impressed, a devil surviving one of my most devastating attacks. Either way, you are not long for this world,” he turns from her.

From the blackness of the maidens mind, the devil horizontally floating in place. There is appearing to be no resistance remaining. Lævateinn is no longer willing to battle, Valor is nowhere to be seen, and this enemy is far too much to handle.

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