The plan was supposed to be simple.
They'd go through the palace and simply talk the Priest out of his suicide notion.
But no…
Martin could hear his own heartbeats drum in his ears; because somehow, this suicide notion also had every possibility to destroy his brother. God wasn't a Being to mess with, now, was He?
But, why did he care?
That same brother once had his entire wardrobe burnt down and left him locked naked in his room ten years back.
And of course many other numerous vices no one could count.
He hated to admit this, God knew; but, he still cared.
They were already rushing through the third stairway on their mission to save the King's life.
That is…if Abraham could die.
"What does this King look like anyway," exclaimed Miya while she followed behind the others. "And was the Reverend speaking in metaphors when he said he had teeth as sharp as a spear?"
"Only when controlled by a negative emotion," replied Martin. "Otherwise, he's like every other human being."
He was leading the half run frenzy and was a good five meters away. He was desperate enough. Even when they neared the courtroom, his pace never ceased.
But then…
Of course the plan of going through the palace and talking the Priest out of this could only have been too easy to be true. It could never have been that simple!
Seems the Priest left someone on guard. Their movement ceased as they stared eye to eye with the dalmatian.
Darn it…they had forgotten about the bloody dog.
"Tell me there's another route to the courtroom," whispered the Prince, eyes on the animal that was growling at them now.
"Don't be a coward," Sam was frowning and of course made sure his pose was perfect for an escape incase the dalmatian tried anything. "Razia is here, right Razia," he glanced around, only to realise the water demon was not with them.
Samlong came to his full height, his glare deepening simultaneously. He took a moment to glance back; and there she was attempting a perfectly silent escape down the stairs.
"Razia," he pinned her with brown eyes. "Don't tell me you're afraid of some dalmatian."
She returned the stare and said nothing. After struggling for a perfect excuse vainly, she shrugged. "Of course not. Why would a demon possibly be afraid of a demon slayer's dog?"
Her sarcasm struck deep to the bones…and they all gawked. Uncertain, fearful and confused about their next move.
"I think what she means to say is…" Miya offered, "…we're in this one alone."
All at once, they refocused on the animal, eyes narrowed, teeth bared and pose threatening.
***
Ever so slowly, the King paced back and forth, working on his upper garments to remove them.
As his robe came dropping down to the floor, he snarled. "Counsel me again. You're killing me because I appeared in your dreams?"
Paul cocked a brow but ignored the question, seemingly waiting for the other man to get ready.
Abraham opened up his black leather waistcoat, not ceasing in his up and down movement. As his chemise swayed with the wind, he gave a scary sort of grin. "Pray to your God you never let go of that talisman in your clutch."
An effortless pull was all it too to zap the last of his upper garments off his body, revealing his perfectly sculptured form. "Because if you do," he concluded, tilting his head. "You're as good as dead!"
The Priest hadn't failed to notice the teeth, or claws, or even the new fiery glow in his eyes. And for a minute moment, he wished he hadn't come here.
The thought was gone as suddenly as it came though.
Assuming a solemn glare, he wrapped the beaded necklace tight around his hand. Hopefully, this would work…
Paul began a silent chant of verses in Latin and stalked forward; words shaky, grip shivering.
Abraham gave a beast like roar from his throat in response just before flames surged out. It had the sound of a painful cry, like the words thrown at him came with constant blow to his gut.
It sure did feel like it.
The fire shot straight at the opponent, except it dispersed to either side of him as it neared, like a protective shield stood before him.
The King growled angrily, realizing this was going to be harder than he thought. Far harder.
The prayers continued…forcing him to his knees as weakness overcame. He however, vowed not to lose. Abraham dug claws into the floor, his breathing hard and desperate.
Something was changing about him; a change that only helped to make him a direct reflection of the monster the Priest had dreamt about.
If there was any ounce of bravery left in the man of God, it was slowly seeping out now.
The djinn's body glowed like fire flowed in his veins instead of blood. And now, it looked like his skin began to smoulder from it. Light batches of his body drifted to ashes, replaced by the fiery glow of larva.
At the sight, the Priest paused the chant to swallow what felt like fear in his throat. It was the feeling one had when one's nightmare was right before his naked eyes.
Abraham must have sensed it. Because he glanced up and bared his fangs in a grin, eyes like larva and hair dark as brimstone. Steadily, the King rose back to his feet and stalked back and forth, claws curved and steps as deadly as he was.
"Mortals," he snarled and it echoed dramatically. "Have you ever asked your God why He made every single one of you just to die later on? And now you suddenly received the guts to step you filthy feet into my home with the preposterous idea that you could kill me. You pathetic little…"
The prayers resumed and Abraham could not complete the insult. It seemed he'd struck the man's nerves somewhere. Now, he wailed out another roar in anger and began feeling the blows in his gut again.
He was forced back down to his knees, the smouldering glow all around his skin deepening as his rage reached greater heights.
Abraham hit both his fists simultaneously on the floor and set trails of fire on each side surging straight across the space to the wall at the other end.
But neither marred the Priest.
Paul never stopped shivering even as he forced authority into his words. Because for this session to work, one didn't have to act as though he was from God; one needed to act as though he _was_ God.
Abraham breathed out fire to scorch everything around him as his frustration heightened. Hopefully, at least a spark would catch his foe.
But, that invisible shield still protected the bloody mortal.
"Drop the darn chaplet," he barked angrily in the midst of the sounds of burning items around. "I dare you!"
Flames surrounded then, although neither was burned. The Priest had the host of the Creator with him anyways.
While Abraham…
Well he didn't burn because…well because he was fire himself.
His helplessness continued, and his anger knew no bounds. It was obvious in the way the flames all around the room grew brighter than they should have…almost like he controlled them.
Beads of sweat framed the man's face and the sight made the King understand something; even if he received protection from his fire, surely he still felt the heat.
And the thought brought an awfully dirty plan to his mind that made him smirk.