Forty-Seven - Marchosias

2393 Words

“This is impossible…” Amias blurted out so loud that I turned to glance at him. His eyes were wide and his face was a portrait of utter disbelief. Even when he was done speaking, his mouth was still gaped open. “D-douse your… weapons…” remarked Gusion in between his ragged breaths. With the slightest hesitation, I lowered the Angelic sword. Its fiery light died as I strapped it over my shoulder. “Lyana,” I muttered, keeping my eyes on the Legionnaire’s bloody form. “Lower the shield.” “Don’t listen to him, huntress,” cautioned Magat. “That demon just wants us to let our guards down so he can attack.” “For Heaven’s sake, Magat. Gusion is lying on a pool of his own blood,” snapped the huntress as she lowered the hand that held the Angel’s shield. Magat scoffed, but he did not say anoth

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