Roaring like a wild beast, the air splitting, winds stirred into being by the sole strength of every consecutive hits, Gartran ravaged the area as he tried to catch the corpse cloaked in red, only that this undead was a slippery one, agile and dexterous, using his war scythe as as pole to leap high.
The cloak obscuring the details of his movements, the apocalypse knight jumped over a low slash, bringing his weapon perfectly horizontally, hand placed close to the blade, the rest of the handle right upon against his arm and back, erupting with the great glow of holy death, in its brilliant center, a shine of a dark red screaming combat.
Surrounded by the holy, the red was allowed to spread over the blade of the graven scythe, seemingly growing solid, expanding its size and reach, standing perfectly straight, the red and holy intertwined as the knight simply rushed forth without his posture changing at all.
Without even having the time to blink, Gartran's neck erupted with blood, the undead's cloak fluttering wildly from the mad acceleration he had gone through, his head turning to the side.
"Ah! Ah ah ah! Was that your best shot, corpse?!" covering the wound with one hand, the great feaster grinned toothily, blood no longer spurting out, the injury not nearly as deep as the living would have expected from such a flashy move.
"You are tough, you could probably join Lord Herlbe's ranks without any issue with such a physique, I used both the weapon enhancement and haste boost of the war aspect, targeting a lethal area on top of all that…" the apocalypse knight muttered, he still had ways to go, he had been hoping to take his opponent's head right off with that first attack.
"I don't know who you are talking about, but don't expect me to bow my head to anything but the strongest feaster!" unlike the many fools that had kept on trying to challenge Derdlim Maulerd ever since she took the position as the lord of the east, Gartran was well aware that he stood no chance, capable of distinguishing a power far greater than his own.
Knowing how to discern the strength of an opponent was instrumental in surviving long, fools that could have achieved incredible heights of strength often ended up as cadavers early simply because they were incapable of visualising their own power compared to that of their enemies, like elders trying to skip steps on the way down, they were instantly led straight to to the bottom as mangled flesh and bones.
This was why Gartran knew that he was not fighting a losing battle.
"Show me what you've got, undead!"
'Fool… Can you even see me-?' flashing forward with incredible haste once again, the red-cloaked knight may not be anywhere close to Loimos's mastery, but he was still a specialist, only training in a single aspect.
The red cloak signified his allegiance to war, and so, apart from basic handling of his weapon, this was all he ever trained, so even if the power output was not to the undead's liking just yet, he was still not going to run out of juice after a single strike.
Not stopping at all, it appeared from a distance that Gartran was fighting a red and bright blur, leaving wounds all over his body again, and again, and again, and again…
Each individual wounds may not be that deep, they may quickly heal thanks to Gartran's troll constitution, but dozens of them were etched upon his body, the undead not just targeting vital areas, every exposed area was relentlessly slashed, reaping eyes and fingers at times, only for them to heal just as quickly as mild cuts.
'Feasting is not so simple it seems… He has far surpassed the durability and regeneration of actual trolls, even when consuming the same thing over and over, he did not stop improving the abilities they granted him…' the knight remarked, although the apocalypse knights had not seen much action in Belliste so far, but they, like the rest of the vanguard, were kept updated at all times.
'Your addition to the ranks of eternity will bring much deserved glory to Sir Loimos!' aiming to cut into the jugular again, the constant quickness of war would bring him past the living even as fast as his undead mind could process information.
Gartran locked eye contact, his cleaver moving already, as the knight realised the situation, his movement speed had already carried him too far, left shoulder, left arm and a good chunk of his torso were slashed right off, armour and cloak useless before the feaster's might.
As the undead stepped away, the living ignored him wholly, instead repeatedly striking what he had just sliced, turning it to dust, not knowing how just beings worked exactly, having only been told things that the three-headed dragon had shared, so to be safe, he made sure to annihilate what he had just managed to take from the corpse.
'Won't be able of pulling any sort of bullcrap…' grinning to himself, that way, there would be no reattaching it or having it still moving around to catch anyone off-guard, he was fighting an undead after all, a creature that was already dead, there was no real difference between a severed limb and whole dead body to the great feaster.
The red cloak slid off, revealing the armour in full, as well as what was hidden within it.
'It did feel tougher than expected…'
Indeed, the undead was a zombie, and his skin was stone, bones did look rock-like but were not what they seemed however, organs all taking on terrible shades of colour but still recognisable.
"Even if overwhelming, it's easy to get used to something's speed, especially when it never changes!" mocking his opponent, Gartran's every injury were healed as he began walking forward, keeping some attention on the battle between the other feasters and the rest of the dead, neither side seemed to completely dominate over there, but the second-in-command could tell that it was a bad sign, if the undead did not dominate now, they would as exhaustion and injuries piled up.
'I need to bury this guy quickly…' but the knight stood up like nothing, no pain, no discomfort, no imbalance, chainmail still swinging, the power of war still activated.
"Should have taken my right arm, you know? War is wielded by the dextral hand" it was no manner of speech, it was an unbreakable condition all apocalypse knight imposed upon themselves, the main hand they used was of great importance, abilities could not be activated if the other took prominence in how they held their scythe.
But of course, Gartran had known that it would have been more logical, which was why he had aimed for the opposite, in this small instant, the undead had naturally moved to protect his right side even when taken by surprise.
Gartran stopped in his tracks, his opponent turning his head to the side, a wave of intensely powerful death force flowing past the two of them.
'Lieutenant Horhir had to use it? I better not lose then…' a simple caste member could not hope to have access to this special technique, but he did know more applications of the war aspect that he had shown.
Raising his scythe aloft, the red blade expanded again, swelling up to an unwieldy-looking size, bringing it down without wait.