The air grew heavy, charged with the promise of violence. Dark clouds roiled overhead, a storm brewing in perfect sync with the tension on the rooftop. Tiny raindrops began to fall, pattering softly against the concrete, a gentle prelude to the chaos about to unfold.
Duncan's voice cut through the tense silence, his tone dripping with casual amusement. "Now, now," he drawled, lazily waving a hand. "Let's make this a touch more... interesting, shall we? You knights," his eyes flicked to Reggie, Randal, and Gunther, "will sit this one out. Can't have you interfering in our little drama, can we?"
Before anyone could protest, Duncan's eyes glowed an eerie crimson. With a gesture that seemed almost offhand, six shimmering portals materialized around the rooftop. The air crackled with energy, reminiscent of Drake's fallen power.
Reggie's jaw dropped, his mind racing. 'Impossible,' he thought, shock evident in every line of his face. 'That's Drake's ability. How can Duncan...?'
Gunther's shadows writhed uneasily around his feet. 'This power,' he mused, a cold dread settling in his stomach. 'It's not just similar. It's identical.'
From each portal emerged a woman, their bodies barely covered by wisps of fabric that seemed to float around them. Their eyes were dull, unfocused, their movements eerily synchronized as they stepped onto the rain-slicked rooftop.
Duncan's eyes flashed once more, and suddenly, the women's gazes sharpened, burning with an unnatural light. As one, they turned to face the knights, their postures shifting from languid to predatory in an instant.
Randal's breath caught in his throat as he noticed a detail that sent chills down his spine. 'Those marks,' he realized, his eyes widening. 'On their necks. He turned them. Duncan turned them all.'
Before the knights could fully process this revelation, the women attacked. They moved with inhuman grace and speed, their actions perfectly coordinated as if guided by a single mind.
Gunther's shadows surged forward, coalescing into razor-sharp tendrils that slashed at his attackers. But where his shadows should have severed limbs, they merely left shallow cuts that healed almost instantly.
Back with Reggie, desperation fueled his actions. His shadow formed into a jagged blade, and with a vicious swipe, he decapitated one of his attackers. The head rolled across the rooftop, but the body didn't fall. Instead, it groped blindly, hands reaching for the severed head.
'No fucking way,' Reggie thought, bile rising in his throat. He barely had time to process the horror before the second woman was on him, her hands closing around his throat.
Gunther, seeing Reggie's plight, attempted to use his shadow realm. The darkness expanded, engulfing one of his attackers. For a moment, relief washed over him. Then, with a flash of red eyes, the woman simply stepped out of another portal, this time a light one, completely unharmed.
'It's not working,' Gunther realized, cold dread settling in his stomach. His momentary distraction cost him as both women pounced, their combined weight driving him to the ground. Teeth and claws tore into him, drawing screams of agony.
Randal, hearing Gunther's cries, fought with renewed fury. He grabbed one woman by the throat, squeezing with all his might. The crunch of her windpipe collapsing was sickeningly loud. But even as her eyes bulged and her face turned purple, she kept clawing at him, kept trying to bite.
The other woman took advantage of Randal's focus, leaping onto his back once more. This time, her claws dug into his eyes. Randal's scream of pain was primal, echoing across the rooftop. He staggered, blood pouring from his ruined eyes, but still he fought on.
The rooftop had become a scene of unimaginable carnage. Blood mixed with rain, turning the ground slick and red. The knights fought with everything they had, their shadows lashing out in increasingly desperate patterns. But for every wound they inflicted, the women seemed to grow stronger, their laughter a chilling counterpoint to the knights' cries of pain.
Through it all, Duncan watched with detached amusement, his eyes gleaming in the storm-darkened night. His voice, when he spoke, was laden with mock concern. "Oh dear," he drawled. "It seems my girls are playing a bit rough. But then again, boys will be boys, won't they?"
The knights, battered and bleeding, knew with grim certainty that this was a fight they couldn't win. Yet still they fought on, their determination a stark contrast to the inhuman glee of their opponents.
And Blake? He stood unmoved, his eyes locked on Damien, waiting for the true battle to begin. The knight's struggle was merely a prelude, a warm-up act for the main event. As lightning split the sky, illuminating the brutal scene, Blake's blood began to swirl around him, preparing for the real fight to come.