Blood Red Shadow :Amoura:

[Silver Eyes]

Excellent. To think that just one session of training with basics could unlock so much of his potential. If she hadn't been so naive years ago, she probably could have had a better chance at many things--the past can't be changed.

Before they pass on, I want you to absorb their souls and add them to your familiars. You will need them in the future for anything from distractions to swift healing. Before I could access my other abilities, I had to rely on what I had devoured to save my ass. There's also more to the familiars that I will show you at a later date or tonight depending on how much time we've got on our hands.

Amoura hopped off the building and approached the bloodied scene. The scent was intoxicating as ever, especially up close, and it prodded at her instinct to drink, to maim. The Night Angel had learned enough self control to not succumb.

"What you have to do is either take in their blood or have your hell hound devour them. That may be enough for you to reap their souls. If not, you may just be a different kind of half-vampire." Amoura looked at her reflection in a fresh puddle of blood, "These vampires are rare but they exist. They require life force or that of a soul to fuel their abilities. It's not dire for you but you may need to take in life on occasion to keep yourself in check."

[Sparda]

As Amoura's instruction turned to the subject of familiars, Sparda turned his head to watch his winged hound greedily devour the armless demon's body. There was a strange sensation at the back of his mind; the feeling of an outside life force seeping into his body, intensifying slightly as the draconic beast ripped the demon's heart out of its corpse and swallowed it whole. This was the barely mistakeable feeling of his victim's soul being dragged into the darkness and pacified by his sinister new power.

His first familiar had taken up residence in the depths of his soul.

The Dark Knight took a deep breath, feeling a distinct head rush from the rich scent of blood that permeated the air, and turned his gaze upon the other bodies further down the alley. With a snap of his fingers, the as yet unnamed hound rounded on the other corpses and set about devouring each one in turn, condemning their souls to servitude beneath the legendary demon.

"I'll keep that in mind," came Sparda's answer to Amoura's last remark. "Time will tell which I'll need to sustain me. Now then..."

He turned to face the Night Angel while his hound busily feasted.

"What's next?"

[Silver Eyes]

"Memories."

Amoura knelt down, dipped her fingers in the blood and brought the substance to her lips to lick it off. The taste wasn't the best, as expected from the demons, but one has to put up with such things to get what's acquired.

"From their blood, I can gain access to important memories. Locations of different demons, their stashes of weapons and so on. In fact, we are only a mile from the nearest cache."

The Night Angel stood and faced Sparda, disregarding the voracious hell hound's feeding habits.

"I won't say where it is. I want you to figure it out. Souls also contain memories--find all the locations and we'll go take them out with your new abilities only. If I so much as see one bit of demonic power being used..." That note ended with a glare in Sparda's direction.

"Concentrate. Let the memories flow out but be wary--you may learn things you wished you hadn't if you aren't careful."

[Sparda]

Ah, a logical step forward indeed. Sparda was aware of the ability of powerful vampires to absorb not only the souls of their victims, but their memories and knowledge. Time for him to learn his way around this undoubtedly valuable tool.

By the time he was ready to proceed, the hound had eaten its fill. Each of the corpses was missing at least its heart, and the Dark Knight had felt each of their souls being dragged into his body, assimilated as part of his darkening power. The demon knelt next to what was left of the poor armless bastard, removing the glove from his right hand and dragging a finger through the pool of blood that had spread from the body.

When he raised his hand and tentatively licked the blood from his extended digit, he was taken aback by the sudden mess of images that flashed through his mind all at once. Memories and recollections that weren't his lingered for a moment, scattered and disorderly, and it took him a short while to discard the chaff and find what was relevant; the demon's movements through Hallowton. He retraced its steps, following its night-time hunting, until he found what he was looking for; an apparent hideout where dozens of similar creatures gathered, storing weapons and the like.

A few seconds passed before Sparda caught on that he himself didn't need to know the location, but needed only follow the demon's own path to and from it. Eventually he figured out a route. Standing suddenly, the Dark Knight turned and disappeared into the shadows without a word to Amoura, moving to confirm the hideout's location. She would no doubt be able to follow him through the darkness, watching his progress intently.

[Silver Eyes]

Amoura didn't follow him into the shadows but ran ahead to the destination she knew he'd go for. The caches numbered to about five, each spread out in an irregular patterns to prevent any leads from hinting at the weaponry. Still, even with all of this, there was a bigger lesson that Amoura had to teach him before this session would be ended. From rooftop to rooftop, she made it safely and waited for the Dark Knight's arrival to begin purging this town of the leftover gangs that have taken residence.

‘‘Do not focus on the path you take; only on your destination – your instincts will find the most efficient route on their own.’’

Quote after quote of forgotten valuable things were resurfacing tonight and there was much more to share with him.

[Sparda]

Do not focus on the path you take; only on your destination – your instincts will find the most efficient route on their own.

Even as these words echoed in Sparda's mind, he felt himself diverging slightly from the path he'd originally devised. What he found was that, with only the thought of his destination to guide him, he seemed to be sensible of a still faster route. Through alleys and shadows the Dark Knight prowled, coming to a large warehouse which he recognised from the fallen demon's memories as the location of the weapons cache.

Unsurprisingly, Amoura seemed to have beaten him there.

With silence and caution, Sparda slipped into the warehouse, searching for a way into its main storage rooms.

"What now?"

[Silver Eyes]

Using your new powers, I want you to take out the demons inside and destroy their cargo. Amoura sank into the shadow she stood and stared down into the room where he'll soon make an entrance. Five demons, all using weapons and guarding the crates filled with supplies to fuel their wars.

I mean it when I say only your vampire powers. Don't make a grand entrance. Use subtlety, frighten your opponents to the brink of insanity and when they least expect it, kill them.

Now it was a matter of waiting to see what the Dark Knight will do.

[Sparda]

Hoisting himself into a vantage point, Sparda quietly observed the five reptilian demons below. Again, he paid careful attention to the shadows, planning the quickest and cleanest attacks first. Slowly, he probed at the darkness that filled the room, gaining control over it all so that he could assail this first group without entering the fray himself...

Within moments, he had claimed his next victim. The furthest demon from the group had his back to the wall and a jagged sword in his hands. A dull thud and a choked scream later, it was jammed through his next and pinning him immovably to the concrete, leaving him to alert his brethren to his approaching death as he coughed up blood and gurgled pathetically, taking at least five seconds to finally fall silent. All he had seen was a black hand reach up out of nowhere and snatch the sword from his grip, as if his own shadow had come to life and attacked him.

Almost simultaneously, similar fates befell his comrades. Whether sword, axe or spear, each had their weapon ripped from their hands by skeletal limbs reaching up out of their own shadows and were promptly hacked to death with their own blades. The Dark Knight allowed himself another dark chuckle, inhaling the spreading scent of death and closing his eyes to listen to their howls of pain as their very shadows cut them to pieces. As each fell lifelessly to the ground, he reached out through their shadows and ripped their souls from their body, claiming another five familiars in short order.

"Well, that was easy," he thought out loud. "Now, do we have a means to destroy this weapon stash, short of smashing it all to pieces?"

[Silver Eyes]

"No."

Amoura landed beside him and curled to her full height. "There's something bigger that must be taken care of. It's one of the most important things that I must teach you." The vampire stood in his path and stared up into his eyes. "The final lesson begins...now."

Amoura stepped away from the Dark Knight and into the shadowed wall that was before her. The room was silent, for now and he may be at a loss as to what the final lesson could be.

"‘Do you know what is insanity, Sparda?’’ Came a familiar, haunting voice, ‘‘Repeating the same task, over and over, expecting different results.’’

A being, emitting a powerful aura, stepped into the light. He donned a cloak, which hid his features--Sparda will know all too well who this entity was and he continued his approach. There was no sense of hostility, until he repeated what was stated years ago:

‘‘You are still fair of form; that will go first. Your blood will begin to boil, before your soul begins to consume itself like the light of a candle. This power will render you hideous, you will go mad and will not know it."

[Sparda]

Final lesson? Sparda tilted his head, a confused frown crossing his face, as Amoura vanished into the shadows. He dropped into the storage room from his lofty hiding place, looking around, sniffing at the air for any trace of her... she was gone.

Then that voice came.

Immediately, as if panicked by just hearing it, the Dark Knight whirled around to face its owner. The figure approaching him was garbed in a heavy cloak, but there was no mistaking the ethereal glow visible beneath the hood, nor the haunting melancholy of its voice.

"You..." A black disc of cloud swirled into being by the Dark Knight's foot and Revelation rose up through it, suspended in mid-air by the supernatural force imposed upon it by its wielder. He was about to clutch the weapon and hold it ready; but a recollection about this, the first Council member he'd encountered in Dominion, stayed his hand. Tajna Rasha existed on a separate, spectral plane, and the innumerable corporeal bodies he could manifest for himself were utterly expendable. No amount of damage they sustained would ever harm him directly.

Still, this wasn't the Tajna Rasha. It couldn't be...

Scowling darkly, the Dark Knight gripped his weapon and raised it in a ready stance. "You're not the real thing," he spat threateningly. "So have at me. Yours will never come close to the power of the original Tajna Rasha."

[Silver Eyes]

‘‘Herein lies your fate, Sparda...’’ Tajna extended his hand and his blade materialized into his palm, ‘‘You have initiated your own demise, and only we possess the mean to save you from total dissolution.’’ The demon gave pause to his words, mused on them and had a proper response in turn:

''We have already been here...'' It was like a memory was being replayed for Sparda. The words were the same, his movements flawless but something broke out of that cycle. Much like Aper and Veran have burst free from the confinements of memories and dreams, so too did Tajna.

"We have always been here."

Much like their first encounter, time frozen and Tajna circled around him. The demon already knew of what to do. Time rewound itself, Sparda returned to where he had been standing blade-less and confused as to what the lesson would be.

Only, the memories of what already came to pass remained within his mind. And again, like a CD trapped on "repeat", it replayed.

"‘Do you know what is insanity, Sparda? Repeating the same task, over and over, expecting different results.’’ Tajna repeated his entrance and his words.

[Sparda]

Again, and again, and again. In a seemingly endless loop his encounter with the spectre replayed itself; what infuriated Sparda was that he could feel his body moving against his will as time rewound to begin the next loop of what he had deduced to be one of his memories of Tajna. There had to be a way to break the cycle, surely...

Eventually, just as the tenth loop began, the Dark Knight found his escape. And it would be paved with the phantasmal blood of the ghost of the Council.

"Do you know what insanity is, Sparda?"

Almost before he could finish, the demon was upon him with Revelation rammed into his chest and his free hand ripping his hood away and clutching at his sunken face.

"I do, Tajna," the Dark Knight growled, black tendrils of shadow creeping up his arm and Revelation's blade. "And I know of a being capable of deeper levels of blasphemy and madness than you knew existed..."

The dark corruption seeping from the demon's body spread across Tajna's; not only rotting away his corporeal body, but also burning at the facsimile of his soul with only this physical link. The phantom would find his body anchored in reality, at the mercy of the Dark Knight's new power, and even his omnipresence would be powerless to move it.

"I know that Amoura will seek to pit it against me..."

The demon looked up, fixing the false Tajna with a soul-freezing glare of contempt, a primal madness in his eyes. His grip tightened and the bones of Tajna's face began to crack and buckle beneath it, even as the tendrils of darkness corroded his form.

"And I know it shall not break me..."

With one final squeeze and a bestial roar of anger, the demon crushed Tajna's skull beneath his gloved hand, withdrew his free arm and ripped Revelation up through the phantom's body, engulfing it in the corrupting flames of his power. The Dark Knight stepped back, scowling disgustedly, as Tajna's falsified body and soul burned away before him.

"Is this it? If you're trying to demonstrate the power of the Nightmare, my dear, try harder."

[Silver Eyes]

‘‘The power of the Legendary Dark Knight is a double-edged sword.’’

The moment those words were uttered, Sparda will notice that the moment the body was burned away, he saw not Tajna but himself. Just a few feet away from the destruction, the demon stood there unharmed and unmoving. Sparda could smell blood--his blood-- and it was thick in the air.

‘‘Every time our energy flickered, we pulled you in and out of the linear timeline – all of your movements, every single event up to this point were orchestrated by our doing.’’

Lights flashed, darkness descended and a soft glow revealed numerous bodies--all of them were Sparda.

‘‘We have killed, and consumed you over an eternity.’’ Tajna began to approach Sparda but something was changing. "At that point, Sparda. You should have realized something." Long black locks began to sprout from his head, his body slimmed, and his features changed until it was now Amoura, not Tajna, who was drawing close.

"I could never do Tajna justice but I felt I did enough to make my point." Amoura circled around Sparda and kept her eyes on him. "In the past, you realized there was nothing you could do against him--you were right. None of us could."

The vision ebbed back to the warehouse where the demons were slaughtered by Sparda. The lecture was far from over and Amoura was determined to not let him get a word in until she had finished:

"Against a foe like Tajna, you'd fight him for all of eternity, you'd go mad, and you'd succumb. There would be no chance for victory. And when I returned, you knew there was nothing you could do against him. I know you consider that a defeat, but I'll have you know something." The Night Angel opened the doors to the warehouse but made no move to leave. There was still much more that had to be shared.

"You are only defeated once in your life. How? When you are unable to get back on your feet and continue. When you've experience true oblivion, no chance of return--even after I died, that was not a defeat but a delay. I haven't been defeated yet and you haven't either." Amoura placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly, "Because you ran you are alive. Not all fights can be won, Sparda. You witnessed this recently. The goal of that little incident was to show you that victory on your part isn't always possible and that you need to learn that sometimes, you have to walk away from a battle. If you can't get away no matter how hard you try, then you go down fighting. From failures, you learn more about your opponent, yourself, and can prepare to face them at another date. Even then, defeating the enemy isn't always inevitable..."

Amoura spun on her heel and made her exit. The scenery was changing but she didn't step through. The lesson wasn't over yet and she waited to see his reaction.

[Sparda]

Revelation in hand, Sparda waited for the spectre's next move. Granted, he was never once holding his breath... but it still infuriated him to see that an attack he'd thought might actually count for something was casually brushed aside. Everything about this reeked of deja vu, throwing the demon back to the first time he encountered Tajna Rasha. The only thing that remained firm in Sparda's mind, over a year later, was the utter retrospective pointlessness of his attempt at fighting the phantom off...

The demon stepped away, his weapon hand shaking, Revelation's handle threatening to buckle beneath the strength of his grip. Eventually, with a roar of frustration, he threw the useless blade aside with a noisy clatter of metal on stone.

"What are you getting at, Amoura?!" he shouted at the empty air, looking around as if expecting the vampiress to be watching him from some dark vantage point. What the hell was the point she was trying to prove by bringing to mind his helplessness against the ghost of the Council...?

He could do nothing but turn away and close his eyes, ignoring the sight of the innumerable copies of his corpse, and tremble with frustration... until the change in the spectre's voice drew his attention. When he opened his eyes again, the bodies had disappeared; and when he turned around, it was not Tajna approaching him, but Amoura.

In his anger he could almost have attacked her for embarrassing him the way she did, but he knew enough restraint to stay his hand. Instead he fell silent, seething quietly, and listened to the unfolding lecture...

Victory? he mused to himself as he turned to quietly follow the vampiress out of the warehouse. Not possible? I'll believe that when I'm dead. Even the likes of Tajna must have some kind of exploitable weaknesses. There is no such thing as a battle that can't be won one way or another...[/color][/i]

[Silver Eyes]

"Pride is a downfall, Sparda." Amoura swept her hand out to the nightmare--no, the illusion--that was beginning to take the form of a regular room. It was empty but things were beginning to materialize. "What you need to understand is that because you are alive, you were victorious against the Council. They wanted you dead, you defied their wish and here you stand as a testament to their failure."

She stepped to the window that had gained enough "physical form" within this realm she controlled and gazed out--there was nothing to be seen, yet, "But you also must realize that you weren't prepared enough, nor did you have the means to destroy Tajna. Pride got in the way, you didn't think about what your foe could really do. And the worst part is Tajna probably knew of the outcome of that encounter. Against someone with that knowledge..." Amoura's silver eyes lingered in his direction but not directly, "...you wouldn't have stood a chance."

Those words would no doubt hurt the legend but they also rang true. "I once had pride. A lot of it, actually. I boldly marched out of hell with confidence that I could do my father's bidding in everything and anything. I killed, and killed, and killed." Amoura hadn't willingly shared this story before and the Knight would be able to tell from her overall posture and vocal pattern, "It wasn't until I met your son did I truly experience defeat at its finest. I was hurt, my ego was badly bruised. That ego got in the way of a lot of things. I nearly got killed while going against opponents who were always one step ahead or weren't affected by my attacks."

Finally, she looked at him, "And whatever ego I had is what also got me killed when I was against Validus."