Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Gelter first attempted to simply jump back out, not wanting to waste any time away from Antieeld during such an emergency, but he had no choice but to defend himself as the knight garbed in ancient armour swung his weapon at him, a halberd with a blank banner decorating it.

'Damnit!' The bodyguard was pushed back, clearly, he could not simply weasel his way out of this confrontation, and unfortunately, the enemy in question was not weak either.

Clutching his longsword, he lunged forward, the speed of his attack far surpassing that of what he had shown before, his blade cutting through the air with abnormal swiftness, before crashing into a wall, obliterating with disconcerting ease.

The enemy knight dodged, feinted a sweep at his legs before stepping back some more, striking the end of his halberd onto the ground, an odd white smoke shrouding the weapon, rippling across the ground, emerging from the ripples were misty figures, appearing like mere footsoldiers.

Gelter released his own battle art, pulling in the summons with ease, their weight far from that of whatever people they were supposed to emulate, their master however, as though he already knew what was coming, had firmly planted his feet on the ground, using his armament as a crutch to avoid the gravitational attraction.

Without mercy, the bodyguard did not remove his sword from the ground, maintaining the powerful pull, ignoring the foggy presences, rushing for the main man himself, ready to plunge his fist enhanced with his inborn ability, his actual main source of power, owning this particular art was but a coincidence after all.

Gelter true ability, was to manipulate the weight of objects, focusing on his gauntlet, well aware that if that punch landed, it would most certainly be of lethal consequences, and he was going to hit him right in the center of the chest, even through a hefty suit of armour, the shock would certainly stop this unknown knight's heart on the spot, and if not, well, the damage should be sufficient to secure a victory still.

The bodyguard was in a hurry to end this, however, he was not facing a mere man, but a most perfidious undead.

Loimos let go of his weapon, allowing it to be pulled in by the well of gravity, straight in the living's path, forcing him to think and do something about it, meanwhile, however, he further condensed his rot, shaping it into something of greater weight.

Rendering him immune to the pull, the strength of which could not be adjusted by Gelter, the initial force of the pull was stronger than what it settled upon, but he was too far from his sword to do anything with this fact, he caught the halberd, it was not his preferred weapon, neither was it compatible with his battle art, but with his innate skill, it could be made into a gravely powerful tool of murder.

Gelter's ability was something integral to himself, not a skill given by the system, as such, it had influenced his body, granting him greater natural strength to allow for a greater usage of this ability, he could swing weight that would rip people's arm off without much strain, confident in his strength, he rose the halberd, aiming to smash it down onto the ground with his maximum power, collapsing this entire place on itself.

Having noticed Loimos now capable of moving freely in spite of the gravity, he decided that it would take too long to properly put him down, he had to get away from here right this instant, so he would bury the both of them, and bet that he would be able of emerging on the surface, which was not that far away at all.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

The undead wasn't impressed, he was not a fool, he had not handed over a weapon to Gelter without thinking, he had ways to evade a punch, and even had he not, having some bones crushed was a non-issue.

Before the weapon could tear the stone asunder, it all turned into black blood, flowing onto the bodyguard, falling and splattering like gelatin, smoke rising from the armour as the acid bore into it.

At the same time, the gravitational pull ceased, the blade falling to the ground as blighted blood had seeped into the ground and devoured its blade sunken into the earth, the foggy soldiers get back up, swinging their transparent weapons at Gelter's back, their hits bouncing off, like peasants encountering a noble on the battlefield, they could not get past his defences.

Loimos could however, invading the academy and this very event had been planned for quite a while now, his mastery over the primeval rot, death force and other concepts had grown higher, the mist soldiers were dispersed by the bodyguard, the undead and living engaging in good old fashioned fist fighting and martial arts for a few moments, ceasing when Gelter bent in Loimos's chestplate with a punch, sending against the wall.

The man did not stop and continued on attacking, his attacks shattering the wall as Loimos rolled against the rocky surface, receiving another punch that twisted both his helm and skull a whole one hundred and eighty degrees, he responded by attempting to grab the bodyguard, but his arm was caught into an armlock.

No problem, with a twist, the undead relinquished his limb to the gobsmacked living, who was unable to react properly when the discarded arm detonated, corrosive blood splattering everywhere, shrapnel of both bones and iron scraping against the armour, the small explosion deafened Gelter in one ear, disorienting him for barely a second, just one more second and he would have been able of catching himself, there were no break to be had.

Loimos kicked him in the back of his knees, getting behind him and grabbing him into a chokehold, disgustingly vile rot spreading out from his stump like vines of nightmares, twisting around the living's body, pumping blood and miasma at point blank range.

The bodyguard cursed loudly, feeling his defences being bypassed by the purplish mist, his skin sizzling and bloating in contact to it, with a groan, he managed to flip the undead over his shoulder, stomping down toward his head, only for the skeleton's neck to crank itself way out of the natural bounds.

A word of death tongue was uttered, making the stressed bodyguard halt for an instant.

"Damnit…"