The second the Holy Knight staggered forward, clutching his chest, I knew things were about to go downhill faster than my sanity in this world.
His voice crackled. Literally. Like someone smacking an old TV. "N… no matter… what… happens…" His visor flickered from gold to pitch black and back again. "You must… defeat me."
That was not encouraging. When your supposed divine tank starts begging you to beat him up before he turns into a murder puppet, you know you're in for a lovely day.
The angels lined up along the marble hall began groaning in unison, wings twitching like someone injected all of them with anxiety and caffeine at the same time.
Light burst from their backs, then warped. Feathers fell in soft, glowing clumps, scattering like dying fireflies before darkening where they hit the floor.
One by one, the angels' wings turned completely black. Their robes darkened too, sinking into void-black threads, and their once-serene expressions twisted into something feral.
