The Watchman | Ezekiel & Johann

Rose Garden. The fresh evening air filled the town with a gentle breeze, slow, but determined steps taking the Ambassador of Dies Irae over the cobbled roadside to a particular spot, a clocktower in the center of a plaza. In truth, the silver-haired man had had some difficulty navigating this space, considering that, in a fashion that was no quite typical for Johann, he had never actually been to Rose Garden before. He had visited most of Fiore over the course of his three distinctly different careers but unfortunately couldn't say the same about this place, the resulting confusion causing him to run perhaps a little late as he attempted to find his way to the meeting spot. In the end, he had to rely on instinct, along with the occasional question aimed at a local, to guide him through the now increasingly brightly lit streets, lacrima lights lining the roadsides. He had, of course, not come here for the sake of recreation, though.

The purpose of his little excursion to Rose Garden was, as much as he might dislike it, of a strictly professional nature. What brought him here today were reports of a man who, in a stroke of eloquence, had been dubbed "The Watchman", an individual that, against the assumption suggested by the somewhat harmless-sounding name, was demonstrably dangerous. Reports indicated that he had recently been interfering with the business of the guild and its members, stalking soldiers of Dies Irae and, when the opportunity arose, attacking them. So far, a few members had had run-ins with this individual, and luckily none of them died, but the fact that this was becoming more of a common occurrence was a fact that remained alarming.

So alarming, in fact, that it prompted the intervention of the Ambassador, in his opinion. Apparently, the target wasn't necessarily one to mess around, and, given the report, neither would Johann. For the occasion, Johann had requested back-up in the form of his mentee, Ezekiel, to assist in apprehending, or possibly, eliminating this convict, meeting the young man here in Rose Garden. Or hoping to meet him if he could find his way to the place of meeting.

That was the plan, at least. Somewhat lost in contemplation, the man was suddenly torn from a state of thought with the eruption of a loud, resounding crack, heightened senses instinctively reacting to the echoing ripple. A sound that, to the Ambassador, seemed not unlike a gunshot. Picking up the pace, the silver-haired man broke into a sprint, dashing towards the source of the noise with practiced, swift motions, arriving at its source in no time.

Much to his surprise, the man found that his Mentee was already present, slowing down and coming to a halt before the other, the usual, black cloak that constituted part of his uniform hanging loosely from his shoulders. "Zeke" , the greeting was simple, unceremonious, Joh giving the young man a nod as he adjusted his hat, tucking a few strands of silvery hair underneath. His eyes fell on the weapon in his hands. "My apologies, it seems like I'm late to the party. Trouble?", the Ambassador asked with an inquisitive, concerned voice, though unable to spot any immediate danger, his stance, therefore, remaining rather relaxed. Naturally, he reckoned there had to be a reason why the young Soldier had presumably fired his gun, and remained rather curious, listening for an answer as he let his gaze wander.

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Word Count Thread Total: 1,140

@Zekey

Joh chuckled in a somewhat soft fashion upon hearing his mentee's apology, his eyes still darting about the crowd of passerby's and pedestrians, most of which seemed, in honesty, rather inconspicuous, before his eyes returned to Zeke, a friendly smile on his lips as he waved dismissively. "Don't worry about it, I've heard worse". When the young man mentioned the clocks, along with the subject they had been tracking, the Watchman, Johann turned his head to the shop, taking note of the particular product they offered. If he remembered correctly, the appropriately named Watchman had a downright strange affinity for these objects. It was only appropriate to assume that this was where he would turn up. Somewhat lost in contemplative thought, the man absent-mindedly would also look up to the large clocktower. The next hour would soon be upon them. Johann took a soft breath, a similarly soft sigh escaping him, barely taking note of the silence between him and the young Soldier.

"Any idea who bothered you, by the way?", Johann now turned back to Ezekiel. Johann didn't know whether the individual they were after operated alone or if the ominous Watchman had help from others. Naturally, if the run-in with an individual would mean the latter that would be considerably bad news for Joh and Zeke, who could be significantly outnumbered if that fact turned out to be true. The plaza did offer a lot of space, but another point bothered the Ambassador, the knowledge that collateral damage in the form of material and people alike was likely if a skirmish broke out making the silver-haired Rune Mage somewhat uneasy. An ideal opportunity for any dark mage, though ...

"Ah, yes. I had some trouble navigating the streets of Rose Garden. That was my own fault, though the shot did aid in navigating", he joked with a smirk. "Sounds like you already had your fair share of misfortune, and we haven't even been here that long. Let's hope that changes". Joh was somewhat surprised that this city seemed to be somewhat dangerous. No one thus far had bothered him, though he reckoned that with a seemingly active nightlife the streets had to be home to some of the rejects of society as well. He had made his fair share of experience with that side of life. He had been part of it for more than just a little while, after all, though those memories were, understandably, still anything but joyful. He instead chose to center his attention back onto the task at hand.

"Indeed, he is. To be honest, I have not the slightest idea where the target could be. Reports suggested he has been seen in the area, but considering his modus operandi up until now ... well, it seems that he finds Dies Irae rather than the other way around. Frankly, I have no idea what to expect, and the chances are good that we'll be ambushed. In short, if we do find him, we'll probably be in trouble". The Ambassador rather quickly realized that the way he made the situation out to be didn't exactly sound optimistic, so he hastily added "Probably nothing we can't handle though, right?" with a confident tone and a grin that somewhat contradicted his speech.

In truth, Johann's confidence was held back by a few factors, such as the aforemention possibility of casualties, and while he was quite sure of his abilities, he had yet to see his mentee handle himself in a real combat situation. A life or death moment was nothing like training, after all, but he had faith, faith that Ezekiel was experienced enough to deal with what this mission could throw at him. And if not, well, Joh was an expert at mending a broken body. The soul, however, was an entirely different matter ...

"Not personally, though a few Soldiers have shared their insights with me", he paused briefly, thinking about those that narrowly survived an encounter with this man, a barely noticable, but present stirr filling the back of his head with the familiar sensation of dull anger. Nonetheless, the Ambassador continued, doing his best to ignore the influx of Mars' emotions, "Admittedly, I am none the wiser, though. The target has a few tricks up his sleeve, so I say we keep our eyes open and-"

The sudden and particularly loud sound of a bell interrupted Johann's sentence, his eyes instinctively wandering to the clocktower, widening when he realized that, on the tower and right on front of the large clock built into the structure stood a person. Tall, taller than Johann in any case, scrawny, for the lack of a better term, and pale as the moon, long strands of black hair falling from his head over a face with skin that seemed pulled tightly against his bones, giving him an almost skeletal appearance, the rest of his body covered by what almost seemed like a silken, black coat.. The Ambassador wanted to open his mouth, call out to his mentee, prepare for combat, but his muscles didn't move, his body didn't react. In an onset of panic, a sensation the ever-confident Ambassador hadn't dealt with in a while, his eyes began darting across the space around, realizing that similarly to himself, everything else to had stopped, as if frozen in time.

"Bonjour, Gentlemen!", a raspy voice, nasal and somewhat high-pitched, but excessively smooth with the faint hint of an accent rang out, echoing across the plaza. "While I am sure you already know who I am, just as I know who you are, let me introduce myself. You'll just have to give me the, hehe, time to do so since we meet for the first, well, time". The figure snickered, amused by his own words. "I am the Watchman, and it seems that you have stumbled into our little ... trap, hehe". Johann fought with all his might, but his body as entirely still, his eyes the only thing that could move, a glare focussed on the figure seeming to catch the others attention. "Ah, ah, worry not. Soon you, too, will be dealt with. I will leave you in the care of my charming subordinates. Maybe you can catch me some other time, mages of Dies Irae. Hehe ... Au Revoir". With those words and a snap of his thin fingers, he man vanished, the plaza immediately returning to the previous bustle. It seemed that none of the civilians had any recollection of the event that had just occurred and happily continued to indulge in this lively night.

The Ambassador, of course, had entirely different plans. "Ezekiel!", he immediately whipped around to his mentee, stretching out a hand at his side, a red-bladed rapier materializing within his grasp accompanied by the slight shimmer of magical energy. "Ready yourself. It seems we're already being targeted". His eyes went back to the crowd, carefully scanning for any obvious danger, at first not noticing the cloaked figures that had both mixed into the mass of people and snuck up on them on the surrounding rooftops ...

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@Zekey

His mentee seemed like he had been similarly affected by the sudden stop of time, which was alarming, but eliminated the need for any more explanations. In fact, Ezekiel appeared to be quicker at pointing out the immediate danger that stalked them from above than Johann, the Ambassador's narrowing eyes now raised up as he followed the shifting of cloaked silhouettes, another shot ringing out beside him. The young Soldier was quick at the draw, a talent, in the silver-haired man's eyes, though not few concerned civilians would stop once more, turning their heads towards the two mages of Dies Irae. Their behavior probably wouldn't aid the general public's opinion of the guild, which, much to the Ambassador's continued dismay, seemed already rather poor. It didn't matter. All of these people were in potential danger, the intensity of which would grow exponentially with each figure that came crawling from a dark alleyway, behind a roof, or out of a mass of merry pedestrians. It didn't exactly help lift the Rune Mage's spirits. Fighting under these conditions would put them at an inherent disadvantage, and not a small one either. Any of the people in the crowd could be one of the Watchman's associates, practically indistinguishable from a regular civilian until it was too late. The fact that all of these civilians were potential targets made the situation worse, leaving the Ambassador to struggle inwardly in an attempt to draw up some form of plan or solution to any of these issues, efforts that were unsuccessful at current. He would just have to rely on his own skill, and the skill of his fellow soldier to tackle the situation for the time being.

"Looks like", Joh affirmed the young man's comment, his eyes darting between the approaching figures and the people in the area, some stopping, pointing fingers in their direction, talking amongst themselves and undoubtedly speculating over the event that was occurring before their eyes. The Ambassador's brows furrowed, biting his lip in frustration. Why did they have to gather, be curious? Before he could do anything about them, though, Ezekiel raised another question, Johann responding immediately and instinctively, the man's demeanor shifting with the arising prospect of battle, his response structured more like an order rather than the casual speech he'd displayed before. "Prioritize the civilians. Don't die, Soldier".

The Ambassador didn't know whether Ezekiel had even heard him, the boy immediately being pulled away into a vicious close-quarters fight. Johann's first impulse was to rush over and assist, but he found his path blocked, forced to dash backward by three hooded lackeys that descended from the rooftops, gracefully, in an almost cat-like fashion dropping onto the cold cobblestone of the plaza around. The God of Ishgar had trouble discerning the gender of either figure, though that was of secondary importance as they produced their weapons with surprising speed, sharp metal glistening in the light of the street lamps. "Now's time for some assistance, Mars", the command echoed through the vessel's, his body's mind, a cackle, accompanied by the creature's stir in the back of his head the Sea's immediate response. "My pleasure, tssehehe".

Like a drug, the Seal's magic flooded his system. Johann could feel the hum of magic fill his lungs, his veins, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath before opening them once more, his scleras shining, instead of a normal white, in a deep, charcoal black, a glowing pupil of sanguine red suspended within each eye. "Let's go". From the Ambassador's form, his magical aura would begin to emanate, making no mystery of the Seal's emotional influence to those who could feel it. Power, aggression, and bloodlust were bundled within, the wave of arcane energy that swept over the area like a wave seemingly prompting a response from the first of these attackers.

A barrage of throwing knives was launched the silver-haired man's way, who reacted with the snap of a finger. For no more than a passing second, gravity around him seemed to increase manyfold, the projectiles, instead of finding their mark, sinking with a dozen metallic clings as if suddenly submerged in water. The Ambassador wouldn't get a chance to breathe, however, the tip of a chain knife whizzing through the air towards him. Johann raised his sword, blocking the attack, the associated chain doing its work, however, promptly wrapping tightly around the blade. If he wanted to move, he either had to drop the blade or get closer to the figure, the unmoving, but highly alert figure that had not yet entered the fight drawing the Ambassador's attention as he threw his own strength against that of the cloaked person pulling the chain. With a flash of magic, similarly to Johann's previous move, the last of the three suddenly held a bow within their grasp, notching an arrow and firing with considerable agility, the arrow slamming into Johann's left shoulder. The Ambassador stumbled slightly, the warmth of the blood that began to spread around the impact overshadowed by sharp and acute pain. The cloaked figure seemed pleased, at least they would hesitate for a few seconds before notching the next arrow, giving the Ambassador, who by now had gotten more than used to injury, torture, and pain of all kinds more than enough time to react accordingly, giving himself thoroughly unimpressed by the lucky shot. With the twist of his arm, he dropped the sword, the weapon vanishing into thin air as soon as he had let it go, freeing his hand to grasp the chain, firmly planting his feet on the ground before yanking the chain with considerable power. The figure couldn't do much and was lifted off their feet, practically launched through the air towards Johann, who spun around, meeting the frame of the incoming adversary with a resounding kick to the chest. The energy that was transferred into the foe cracked through the air, catapulting them away and into a nearby lamp pole, bending the metal before they sunk to the ground, unmoving. The Ambassador dropped the chain with a characteristic rustle, bringing his arm around before ripping the projectile from his shoulder, snapping it in half, leaving behind a small hole in his somewhat bloody uniform, pristine and perfectly untouched skin underneath.

That, however, seemed like it would be the extent of Johann's confidence for now. What had drawn a crowd of curious onlookers, who most likely assumed that this was just another street fight between the various parties that made Rose Garden's nights lively, had, of course, also attracted the attention of city guards, two men in armor, hands at the swords at their sides, pushing through the mass of people. "You there! Stop immediately!", one of them ordered sharply, the other one calling out "What's going on here?". Joh's eyes narrowed. This was bad. These dark mages would be ruthless, and simple guards would undoubtedly find themselves outclassed. His assumption would be proven right almost instantly, another throwing knife whizzing through the air and hitting one of the two in the throat, a sicking gargle the last sound he produced as he almost immediately collapsed to the ground, dead. Screams of panic spread through the crowd, the realization that this was no ordinary brawl causing a prompt reaction among the people of Rose Garden. People struggled to stumble away from the group as fast as possible, running into each other, pushing, pulling, fleeing as quickly as the situation allowed. The other guard stared at his comrade on the ground, his eyes wide in shock. "Stay back!", the Ambassador would bark at the man, who only now turned his pale face to the Rune Mage, "I ..." "Go!". It seemed he didn't have to tell him again. The man stumbled backward and turned, running as fast as his feet would allow him.

The Ambassador focussed his eyes on the two remaining figures. Unknowingly, they had, of course, aided him by providing him with a little more space, but not without cost, thinking about the man on the ground, but knowing better than to let it distract him. Still, this now meant that whoever it was they were facing presented a direct and acute danger to innocent people of Earthland. They had to be stopped ... by any means necessary. The Ambassador clenched his hands into fists. No longer would he purposefully limit himself to an almost embarrassing degree.

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Word Count Thread Total: 5,348 / 14,000

@Zekey

With one of the mysterious figures out of the way, the Ambassador found himself facing two more still, a little bit of distance separating the two parties, the God of Ishgar shooting a quick glance over to Ezekiel, who seemed to have his own heavy fighting to deal with, though the young Soldier held himself well, paying particular attention to his magic. The chants were almost mystical, the swirls and shapes of water reacting to them. Johann bit his lip, his eyes swerving back to the two before him, frustration overcoming the man, though he tried his best to hide this emotion. This job had already resulted in a casualty, one more than he would've wanted. The possibility that yet another a child had to grow up without their father because some filthy dark mage scum had decided to live out whatever selfish, cruel motives they held for themselves twisted his frustration into rage, the sanguine glow within his pupils intensifying as more and more magic flooded his system. Johann's magic was not unique, of course, even among the Seven Seals of the Apocalypse, as he had learned, and yet, the fact that Mars was in control of his arcane powers meant that what drove him was this same rage he felt, hate, anger, all of them fueling the Second of the Seals, who inhabited the Ambassador's body as his vessel. Or rather, more specifically, the demonic side within the Nephilim, the side that bestowed upon the Ambassador a magic most viewed as corrupted, unholy, some going as far as considering the use of such magic alone a sacrilege, a crime against humanity. The Ambassador couldn't have cared less. It was just another tool to realize his vision for the future.

He raised his right arm, the puddle of blood around the lifeless guard beginning to bubble before rising from the cold, hard stone of the plaza and the still-warm body of the man. A stream of crimson fluid rushed through the space between the corpse and Johann, adhering to the God of Ishgar's magical control. Suspended in the air around the man, the blood began to form a plethora of small droplets, a swirl of red hues that circulated around his form. Johann's brows furrowed. He couldn't help the man, not anymore. While he could heal wounds, bringing someone back from the dead was a task entirely impossible, even to Johann and the Seal locked within him.

What he could do, however, was fulfill the goal of his guild, the goal of the organization he had built from scratch, his own personal goal ... he could, and he would exact revenge on the man's behalf. "Using a man's blood to finish off his murderer? How poetic, my little vessel. Tssehehehe ...", the voice of Mars would ring out in the back of his mind, obviously thoroughly amused, Johann acutely attentive to the Second Seal's presence, though in his usual fashion ignoring the Lord of War. The Ambassador, though, was aware of the rush of aggression building up within his chest, wrapping its invisible hands around his throat in a sensation that felt like it would be sealed shut, trying to keep a level head, though noticing his senses grow duller with every passing moment. Just another side effect of Mars' magic. It didn't matter, he was ready to tear them apart where they stood ...

... until Ezekiel would suddenly appear at his side, Johann's expression one of surprise, though a smirk would soon replace it, his demeanor relaxing noticeably. "Zeke", he said simply, giving his mentee a nod in response before giving the young man a quick look-over. He was injured, the black, singed spots on his skin evident, though he seemed to be holding up for the time being. Still, the two couldn't catch their breath, even for a brief second. Ezekiel had made a move to interrupt the Watchman as soon as the ominous dark mage appeared again, though, seemingly, to no avail, time halting once more. Much like his mentee, there was not much the Ambassador could do against this magic, his body freezing up. Once more, stuck in place, with no other option than to endure anything this Watchman would throw at the two. The frustration built up once more, the slowly simmering flame of anger within his chest growing larger, slowly, but gradually, the Ambassador's artificial heart beginning to pulse with magical energy. It was an uncomfortable feeling, like the constant sting of needles within his torso, though it was nothing compared to what it had felt like to lose his heart in the first place.

Before the silver-haired Rune Mage could think much further, time would find its normal pace again, his eyes immediately twisting towards his mentee, dark eyes falling onto the twisting shapes of water barrelling towards him, though to his luck, they seemed to change course at the last second, instead of tearing into his body slamming into the clock tower. He took a quick breath. The preferable option, though the God of Ishgar didn't value his health particularly highly, either. It would be best for him, rather than anyone else, to take the damage of an attack. Luckily, that was not a matter that had to be addressed, for the time being, that was.

The situation, though, was dire. The Watchman was nowhere to be seen, eluding the Ambassador again. Not just that, it seemed that the other two lackeys were ready to descend on his mentee. "Shit", the Ambassador bit his lip one more time, his emotions overtaking him anew. The blood was still under his control, Johann's body twisting in a fashion that was almost instinctive. The Ambassador stretched out his arm, the blood coalescing into a sanguine projectile before bursting forward at ridiculous speed, crashing into the first of the two figures with substantial momentum, transferring a lethal amount of force into their side. The figure was ripped off their feet, sending them into a brief spiral through the air before they impacted hard on the same cobblestone as before, unmoving.

As soon he had fired off the spell, he would get low to the ground, his form blurring in a similar burst of acceleration, closing the distance between himself and the remaining dark mage in the blink of an eye. Unceremoniously, his hand would wrap around the adversary's neck, lifting them off their feet and holding them in the air for a few moments, his cold eyes, alight with magic, staring up at the cloaked person, a woman, it seemed, the bow she's been holding leaving her grasp and dropping onto the ground. Johann briefly stared into an expression of struggle underneath the dark cloak, blue eyes and dirty, ash-blonde hair visible in the shadow cast by her disguise.

The Ambassador, though, wouldn't relent, a rune lighting up on his hand firmly wrapped around her throat, golden hues illuminating her face briefly before, in a surge of crackling light, arcs of electricity traveled across not just the Rune Mage's limb, but also her body. Her muscles contracted, a muffled cry of pain, and quite literally, shock ringing out from her before finally, the cascade of energy subsided, leaving her lifeless, strings of smoke rising from her singed form. Johann remained like this for a second before tossing the body aside, she, too, slamming into the ground with a heavy thud.

Instantly, the Ambassador's attention would shift on the young man on the ground, his expression shifting from harsh, stern to something softer and, apparently, concerned, Johann extending his hand in case the other needed help getting up. "Ezekiel! Are you alright?", he asked, worried. "Hold still, this might hurt a little". The Ambassador would try to place his hand on the young man's shoulder, and in case he made contact, would activate another spell. The air around the two would grow noticeably colder for a few seconds, the faint outline of a black halo appearing over the injured Soldier's head, his wounds, however, closing up, any damage he had sustained seemingly being reversed in a manner of moments.

At least for a minute, it would seem like the two had finally found some time to breathe. Still, the ever-ominous and mysterious Watchman was still out there, somewhere, watching them. "Keep your guard up", Johann spoke, a comment that was, of course, somewhat unnecessary. It was obvious that the danger was not yet over. "Do you see anything?".

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@Zekey

Johann's eyes would dart towards the now cracked clockface of the watchtower, though unlike Ezekiel, missing the dark shadows by a few seconds, his gaze, instead, continuing to wander over the rooftops and, subsequently, the plaza, which appeared eerily deserted when compared to how lively it had been not too long ago. The Ambassador failed to spot any immediate danger, though the Watchman, the man they undoubtedly had to thank for their trouble thus far, likely still lingering, and indeed, stalking them attentively, watching for his opportunity to strike. Despite his previous confidence, the Ambassador had to admit to himself that this target was no joke. He was specialized, powerful, and perhaps most importantly, ruthless, it seemed, the silver-haired God of Ishgar forced to wonder what else the adversary had up his sleeve. Apart from the taunts delivered in an accent all too familiar to Johann.

While Joh had failed to spot anything, though, it appeared like Ezekiel had done so, swift steps carrying him away from their current position, Joh throwing a look over his shoulder, watching his mentee walk towards a patch of grass, blades in hand. The Ambassador was ready to inquire if the young man had noticed anything of interest, already opening his mouth to speak when the same feeling as before tightly wrapped around his body, the pressure of omnidirectional magical energy that seemed to mess with the flow of time gripping his form. As opposed to previously, however, time didn't stand still completely. Johann could feel his muscles act and react, his body moving, shifting in place, though at a pace that would normally be attributed to a snail. It was quite bad, the man attempting to shift his position to a guard in order to prepare for the possibility of incoming attacks, though his limbs, both arms and legs, felt as if he was moving them not through air, but through a thick liquid. "Zeeekeeeee!", he spoke, though his words were similarly stretched to that of the Soldier, his brows furrowing in frustration as he stared at the watch. Like a fluid shadow, a string of darkness would erupt from the face of the watch before Ezekiel's blade could smash it to bits, giving form to the tall, almost skeletal Watchman who materialized beside the item on the ground.

"Looks like it is about time, Messieurs", the raspy, nasal voice would ring out once again, his tone smug, the hint of a giggle warping his words ever so slightly. "You mages of Dies Irae have pestered me long enough, and I must admit, I am rather tired of this little d'avant en arrière". The Ambassador had begun raising his blade, pointing it at the Watchman, though the latter gave himself unimpressed, the slow speed at which time would crawl forward instead of pursuing its normal pace making any action against him a difficulty in and of itself. "Adorable", the Watchman would taunt one more time as he stretched out a hand. Both to his left and to his right respectively two golden pocket watches would appear for a total of four, suspended in the air beside the thin dark mage. Johann recognized the magic. It was similar to the magic that he utilized when summoning his own equipment from his Requip space, a pocket dimension of his own creation. Something that, as he had learned, wasn't unique at all, and indeed, a widespread phenomenon among Requip mages of all sort. This was a problem. Not only was their opponent someone clearly skilled in the use of his own magic, but time was also quite literally against them, the odds turning decidedly against the favor of the Dies Irae mages.

With a quiet whisper from the Watchman, the pocket watches began to glow, slowly expanding in size further and further. Johann decided to mount a counterattack before it would be too late, his torso lowering as he attempted to sprint forward, though even as much as running was a pitiful display, painfully slow steps carrying him not very far at all before he would earn himself the Watchman's degrading words. "Ah, résistance is quite senseless, mon amie. But very well, I want to say that our time with each other is up". As soon as he had finished his sentence, the watches that had increased in size to roughly a foot in diameter each stopped growing, the clock hands on them beginning to spin, though unlike normal watches and clocks, they would neither stop nor click periodically, instead picking up pace, rotating faster and faster still with the passing of every second in this slow-motion state of existence.

And the faster they spun, the louder their cry would become.

What had started out as a soft, low hum had quickly transcended into an obnoxiously loud screech that got louder and louder by the second, sounds that resembled voices that screamed out in terror and agony echoing from all around. Joh, who had been so set on an attack, instinctively raised his hands to his ears, though the motions were still slow and the cries getting louder still, the effect of the watches seemingly unavoidable. Unceremoniously, the Ambassador would drop onto his knees, his head spinning from the sheer volume and quantity of voices in his head, and indeed, his enhanced sense of hearing, which would bring with it a certain sensitivity to attacks such as this one, did not especially aid him in this situation. His face would contort into a grimace of pain, his vision blurring, the Watchman's attacks seemingly leaving him seemingly defenseless.

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Word Count Thread Total: 9,564 / 14,000

@Zekey

The Ambassador was nigh certain that he would lose consciousness sooner rather than later, the screech that grew louder and louder with each passing second ringing clearly in his ears, his head, and seemingly throughout his entire being, drowning out even Mars' presence in its entirety, a feeling that was as much unfamiliar to this very body the two shared as it was filling the normally so confident Rune Mage with a distinct sensation, an instance of helplessness. Joh, as usual, would've lamented his lack of usefulness, though he couldn't string together a coherent thought, ever-present, roaring screeches that filled his existence with unbearable pain making his vision flash white. This would be it? This would be how he was defeated? Struck down by ghastly screams, by his own inability to cope with a sensory impression of a nature this rough, intense, and overwhelming. It was a weakness the Ambassador hadn't even thought about up until this point, and the Watchman had exploited this ruthlessly and to its fullest. Would he really go down without even so much as crossing blades with the dark mage? How pathetic. And he dared call himself Ambassador? In the end, he would let them all down. The members of Dies Irae this man had attacked, the people of Rose Garden, the guard that had given his own life in the line of his duty, and most importantly Ezekiel, who still struggled against their foe and fought on ...

Just when the God of Ishgar felt the waking world slip from his grasp, the screeches would suddenly die down, turn into a muffled droning noise that felt distant, and, much to the man's surprise, far less effectual. Of course, it was still perceived, but the Ambassador blinked, once, twice, shock freezing his movements for a few blinks of an eye. The nausea, the pain that had dominated his senses vanished as quickly as it had overwhelmed him, his own body, without the source of harm, counteracting its own shutdown. Johann was surprised to find balls of water cover his ears, his head quickly swerving to Zeke. Had the young man ... had he saved him? Involuntarily, a small smirk of relief would curl one corner of the Ambassador's mouth upwards, watching as the Soldier engaged the Watchman in close quarters combat, quickly reducing the advantage the dark mage had previously held over the two to naught.

If they wanted to finish this in anything resembling good health, now was the chance. Drawing deep, still strained breaths, the Ambassador shakily rose to his feet, his arms limp at his side, though his own body was of little matter. He could feel the Second Seal's presence again, an exceptionally agitated stir in the back of his head reminding him that the creature locked within this vessel had likely experienced the same pain that he had, and would, his wrathful state, seek immediate and forceful retribution. Johann would let him, his consciousness retreating from the vessel.

A wide, toothy grin would spread across the man's face, scarlet crimson hues lighting up the man's transformed eyes, reptilian-like slits sitting suspended in their midst. For a brief instance, the creature, now free from the influence of the distortion in time and the annoying noise that had made it nigh impossible to string together a sentence, would open its mouth and giggle, releasing a low-pitched, dark echo, the hand still clutching a sword slowly rising up as it did, waiting for its cue to strike, like a predator stalking prey."Tssehehehe ...".

The desired opportunity would arise quickly, Ezekiel, in the ensuing scuffle, forced away from the individual, Mars immediately springing into action. Within the blink of an eye, he would vanish, move with a speed imperceptible to the naked eye. The next thing that could be heard was the metallic ring of a blade, followed by the sickening sound of tearing skin and muscle. The Ambassador's form would stand closely behind the Watchman, the sword pushed through his back and emerging from his chest, a glistening edge, stained with crimson spots all over, protruding from the dark mage's torso. The color in his eyes fading along with the smirk, though it had been visible, if only for a brief moment, faded away, the Ambassador pulling back his weapon from the Watchman's body. The criminal seemed to be in complete shock, dropping the weapon he had previously held and staring down at the gashing wound in his chest, his own blood that leaked from his form with every pulse of his heart. The dark mage stumbled, grasping at the wound, his face, filled with an expression of terror, at first rising to Ezekiel, then over his shoulder at the Ambassador. He appeared to try and vocalize something, mouthing a word, though he couldn't quite get it out, instead, only sinking to his knees.

The Ambassador, still breathing heavily, let go of his weapon, the sword disappearing, and with it, the life it had claimed. The Watchman took a last, deep breath, sanguine fluid bursting from his agape mouth as his form seemed to crumble away, magic spreading across his body in not more than a few seconds, consuming it entirely and leaving behind nothing but corroded ash. A signature feature of Mars' magic. The Watchman would be utterly destroyed. It was over.

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Word Count: 890
Word Count Total: 6,397
Word Count Thread Total: 11,321 / 10,000