"Hipp?" Isola called out.
His eyes were like roughly grounded rubies squeezed into transparent orbs with black dots at the center— his pupils. These gems of his were usually so captivating, forcing gazes to take a second and much clearer look. However, those once vibrant gems were now dim, gloomy and devoid of the light of a soul.
"Are you still tired? We can rest here for a bit."
For a second, Hippolytus could feel the gaze of his precious lover on her face. But he has had this dream many times before.
"...Many incarnations, so much I've tried." The face of that prophet Chevreuse flashed in his mind. "This is my last chance."
Sitting up right, Hippolytus shut his eyes and harnessed the energy of the crimson forest, focusing it into the palm of his hand.
The others were shaken. Drawing essence straight from the outside world? That was a really bad sign.
Their Augur spirits didn't even have to say anything for their assigned prophets to immediately back off from the man.
Hippolytus was unfazed by the actions of the people around him, the corrupted energy condensing into a black inky sphere with red light spinning incredibly fast around it. His chalky body soon began to regain the color of human flesh, his form turned slightly smaller with less defined features on his face and his eyes became like those of a regular human's albeit still maintaining their red color. Watching his transformation was like watching a statue go through its final stages of becoming a full warm-blooded human.
By the time he had turned his eyes in the direction of the girls, they were already very far away from where he was, plotting their next course of action. Well, Isola was the one doing most of the thinking. Sansa doesn't even remember how she got to this sanctum in the first place.
Isola opened a portal behind the two, turning to signal for her friend to get out, when she realized that Sansa was already a cloud of shimmering dust, a divine silhouette revealing itself within the shroud. Unlike the pink aquatic creature she had turned into while facing Camille, Sansa's appearance now had no similarities with her human appearance. The structure of her face seemed quite uncanny, lacking the faint sense of imperfection organic creatures possessed, and appearing like something more of a generic fantasy carved by a man who had too much time in his hands. The flesh underneath her garment was like that of a perfectly carved cloud in front of the sun's light, giving her a sharp yellow silhouette, while her hair and her nails were like metal, pristine while with thicker golden outlines.
Sansa clasped her face with her hands and panted heavily, the Absolute edict of her totem removing the downsides that came along with her form, such as the inexistence of a respiratory system and giving her eyes to see. These animal traits should normally exist when the bodies of Living Totem users are recreated, however the lack thereof seemed to be a well-established characteristic. It was the same as her losing her tail for legs when she had turned into a siren previously.
Although the lack of a metabolism had caused her to stumble, there was something else that caused her shaken state. "That... Is... Is that what he used to try and kill me?"
Listening to her stammered words, Isola soon realized that her friend's transformation was not as a result of her willingness to fight, but because something had caused her Augur spirit to forcefully activate her Totem to preserve her life. But how could that be? What threat did that few seconds of invulnerability grant her escape from? Isola turned her head back to the only possible reason, the man now holding a strange black sword in his hand, covered with red markings.
Isola could have sworn he had only taken one step, yet here he was, lifting Sansa in his arms and walking calmly out of her fading Sanctum. Vibrius didn't even bother to make sure she was dead. But how many Seers would remain alive after suffering a clean puncture right where their heart should be.
Tenoch was running out of breath, ideas and spiritual essence, while his opponent was a calm as ever. How? How is Camille still moving the same as when their fight started? Tenoch's clones could reduce anything to pure fluid energy for him to use to create more clones or recreate the regular state of the disintegrated object for as many times as his essence could bare. Of course, this includes Charms and even spiritual essence. But the absolute Edict of this disintegration only covers what his Totem recognizes as separate from living or dead. Meaning, although the acid can melt through the earth, it can only peel off the dead skin cells that would eventually fall off a skin anyway, and the hair on the human body.
Nevertheless, the fact that it could peel off spiritual essence was already lethal enough to most opponents— unfortunately with the exception of this loathsome deviant.
"Ya know Papalot, I'm starting to feel really demotivated right now."
"Persist, Tenoch. If this prophet was worth his salt, he would have found a way to beat us by now. There's no way he would risk letting his target flee so far while he wastes time." Papalot pointed at the arrogant believer, declaring a close to this drawn out battle, "Let the roots grasp the earth, and your soul drain down to nourish!"
As the last clone fell off the scaly white branch, the ground suddenly erupted in an earthquake, the coiling snake tree coming back to life. The sound of hisses spread throughout the forest as they untangled, and then screams.
Camille watched as the snakes struggled and wreathed in the air as if in pain, only for each one to get sucked into the earth against their will.
"What a bizzare Totem." He turned his face to the ground, staring intensely at it for a few seconds when— a fist struck out of nowhere, slamming extremely hard into his face. The collision of these two bodies caused the already punctured ground to split open even further, leaving multiple crevices.
Camille's eyes were wide open as he looked at who the fist pressed against his face belonged to, but then he suddenly broke down into laughter.
"What a splendid world this is! Is this truly the greatest path to true power, to evolve into Chevreuse?!" The man's voice was filled with pride, ego, and unfortunately for Tenoch, not a tinge of pain. He grabbed this man's fist and moved it slowly from his face.
Camille had seen many imitations like this. It was quite ironic how often foes result to becoming him in the pursuit of their victory. And as he looked at the dozen of clones mimicking his form stand around him, he was certain that this scenario would end up like all the others. Honestly, if Camille had worn charms and armour on his body, the clones would have had on stronger gear, rather than the normal clothes they had on at this point. Of course Tenoch was holding back from releasing the 'roots' too soon to catch his opponent off guard, but he was also waiting for Camille to pull out any weapon, any useful charm to use so that Tenoch could replicate perfectly, but that chance never came. The believer never bothered to bring along any weapon. Even his blue earring was just a storage space for clothes and other useless junk, rendering the Absolute Edict effect of Tenoch's Totem irrelevant.
"He can't destroy these clones still. All we need to do is keep pushing for the endurance game." Papalot continued to encourage, attempting to reignite her partner's will to fight. The more enthusiasm Tenoch possessed, the more essence he would be able to regenerate rapidly, however this Virtue caused his will to fight to diminish just as quickly, leaving him demotivated faster.
Papalot could only fuel that motivation for so long. The pile up of the constant reminders of his futility was just too great.
"He didn't even budge." A simple shake of Chevreuse's neck in the other direction could have kept that fire going, but now he was just exhausted.
The clones soon burst into sand before even showing off their full might as Tenoch fell face first into the mud.