Chapter 96: The Desert Dragon

Meanwhile, Meso would be busy in tune with his own fight, having to do constant evasions made by the two children and their constructs, swarming him on all sides with seemingly no end in sight. The Elder Stolas stretched its massive arms down to try and grab at the Sand Reaper, whilst Eligos swam across the dunes to connect itself towards Meso, holding down his leg so that he could not move again. The Younger Stolas would be having bullet rounds from his makeshift gun, Sagittarius, deploying stellar bullet after stellar bullet, a line of such stars aimed directly towards the man's chest. Zazel, lastly, would be having his sigils aimed to incinerate the Reaper from behind, closing off any escape routes the man would've used against him. A four versus one fight, where such odds are stacked against his favor. Despite this overwhelming feeling, the man still remained calm. He still remained calculated. He still remained contained. He'd take the very black soot once more, manipulating the minerals within it, jumping upwards to evade the grasp of such a linear demon, throwing himself headfirst against the likes of the Elder Demon. As the beast extended its arm however, and as the attacks close in to try and shoot him down for good.

SHIKK!!

Daggers. Sharpened Daggers with such a clean edge, it shines amidst the sun. Almost as if it was a blade melted by the strongest heat and cooled by the coldest waters, a blade that cannot be worn down, and such a blade sunk its sharpness directly at the grasping arms, skewering and stabbing into the palm of the beast, forcing it to recoil. It was almost like he was a walking cactus, where the pointed edges merely penetrated the bullets and forced them to scatter, the point of impact severing it, whilst the soot was as solid as iron, protecting him against the Sigil of Asmodeus. When he landed, he'd have the soot invade the sand as well, creating a moat to prevent the beast from daring to approach. It was a solid defense that neither could penetrate with ease. As the ash scattered itself to see his current surroundings, there it was.

The corpse of a Man. A Man dead, yet standing tall. A man dead, yet holding up such pride, a wound upon their very chest made. Meso would know who that man was, and in that moment, he'd take a deep breath, letting himself grieve. The winner of the fight, the Cowboy, stepped forward from such an onslaught, beaten black and blue with blood leaking out of any wounds he has been inflicted, his body in its absolute worst shape. Despite this, the Cowboy merely smiled, looking at the Sand Reaper in the eyes, tension rising as they stared. "You should be proud...He did good out there....he really didn't want you folks to think he failed...." He would calmly state, to which Meso merely gave a soft grin and a small chuckle, one so quiet that nobody else heard it.

"He has not failed me.....I am proud of him. He is simply another life I must carry upon my shoulders....once more. Another reason....to fight on." The Sand Reaper would make space for himself, gaining enough distance and reaching to a specific spot in the battlefield. It writhed itself as something would be seen clawing out from the sands: A Hand with shrapnel of bone coated around it. It was clearly Sacrum, somehow regenerating his life, yet Meso would do something to this arm, in the form of the soot breaking apart and invading what remained of the Dragon skeleton. The soot would stab into Sacrum's hand, and began to drink it. Each time it sapped the arm, it grew thinner and thinner, showing more and more cartilage that was once his bone structure. The very skin grew wrinkly with each suction, before it quickly disappeared into the dust, the skeleton of the dragon now beginning to twitch. Meso simply took off his cloak and let it slump into the dunes, watching it absorb the sands as if it was famished, feasting on the terrain alive. "This is it....My last stand.....Grant me safe passage when I die....for I know I will miss you, regardless of the outcome." The children and their creations were confused, with the Elder Stolas attempting to stop the process by materializing an equivalent of the Sun directly into Meso's direction. The impact, however, would fail, as the sands quickly exploded upwards and spiraled itself like a tornado, the speed and sharp winds somehow attaining enough strength to send the Sun somewhere else.

What came out from such debris was of a claw. A Claw attached to a wingspan, stretching outwards to nearly be half the size of Salvandi itself. Another Claw and wing stretched out on the opposite side, being enough to break apart the tornado created, scattering it into a dust cloud, holding the beast's presence from within. It had a grainy-like skin, its eyes being of pure white, its head being nothing but a fractured skull, its teeth having jagged cuts across it. Its body was long, coiling like a serpent, possessing the sand as if it was its own body, creating more limbs and wings to sustain its body and length. A Chant was made as he'd give such words, a Chant with a familiar language that Zazel recognizes.

Latin.

"Cantate pacifice....Angelus meus"

"Cantate pacifice.....Angelus meus"

"Cum tempus est griseo..... Cum sol cadit.."

"Cantate pacifice....Angelus meus."

"Alta cantare...Laudate ventus.....

"Noli timere...Noli orare...."

"Uia cum abeo...Ego vobiscum sum."

"Cantate pacifice.....Angelus meus..."

"Dra...co...fortis....me~us..."

The chant felt in sync with the tune to his whistle. The lyrics to his lullaby. The passing message, as the Dragon takes its full shape, slithering like a serpent, yet with the jaws that opened wide. The man merely looked upon them as the creation resided by his side. "Mineral Magic.....Draco. Soul Magic...Animae. Bone Magic...Numens. With our souls as one, It makes the ultimate beast beyond reasoning. The beast that whispers close to death's shoulder. The Omen we all share."

"I hope you are all prepared. There is no going back now."