A battle on top of the world

Shiiiiing... Crack!

She let out a sharp gasp with the scraping of her boots against hard rock. A plethora of pebbles dislodged from the boulder, sounding like marbles as they pitched down the side of the mountain. Despite the volume of the tearing winds whipping around the peak of the mountain, the echoes of the small earthen deluge filled the chilly atmosphere up here. Fantasia made the mistake of looking down from her shaky grounding, and seeing the miles of height that she could end up falling down at the slightest mistake... her head quickly jerked back up to pay attention to her goal, not the square one she started from. She forced her free hand and feet up a notch and prepared once more to re-anchor her Claymore. She rescinded the blade from the stone and just as quickly sent it stabbing back into it, just a couple feet higher. It didn't tweak the boulder this time, so she would just get on with it and pull herself up...

Suddenly her eyes widened as she caught what she believed to be the cliff of this mountainous wall, and a feeling of relief washed through her body. Efforts redoubled, she began repeating her laborious yet proven process at a heightened pace, orchestrating a chaotic symphony of metal sheen and rocky cracks with each step up the metaphorical ladder. A pulse of joy as her gloved hands smacked down and gripped the ridge—she knew that somewhat leveled ground awaited her once she pulled herself over. With a series of struggling sounds, Fantasia practically threw herself over the edge and into the awaiting carpeting of snow where she sank at least six inches into it. After releasing the smallest of giggles to herself, she would push herself onto her feet and go to retrieve her weapon from the final place she had embedded it. As though the heavy metal weapon was light as a feather, she pulled it up and swiftly secured it to her back within its scabbard.

"Now that was a good day's exercise," she alleged to herself with a heartier giggle, for in honesty that's exactly what this was. Though one may not believe it, Fantasia could have simply flown to the top of the world's tallest mountain without breaking a sweat, given the place was warm enough to warrant such a thing. After a moment's stretching, though, she would throw her hood up and curl the flaps of her ashen cloak around her to stave some of the biting cold. It also helped that there was an inexplicable warmth coming from the heart of her body, and she was grateful for it; it allowed her to strive hard even in such hostile environments such as this. Speaking of striving, Fantasia felt she needed some closure to this trip, and so the tip of this mountain shouldn't be too much further for her. In fact, as she turned back around and away from the cliff, she was met with said peak not fifty meters ahead of her.

It would have been a simply satisfying sight hadn't it been for the shaded figure whose exact appearance was cloaked by the blizzard up here. The only thing that was apparent from this distance was that the figure's head of hair was blowing around wildly; though with Fantasia's wheat colored bangs beating around her face—even with this hood on—that was no surprise. The only surprise here was the fact that there was somebody as brash as her to climb the mountain at this time. She would have to stride closer to the he or she that they be, if only to get to know this daring individual. Snow crunched beneath her boots as she tread forward, and it came to develop that she was walking toward this being from behind...

"Hello up there?"

At the very least, Fantasia got a name. Though her inquisitive 'hello' was not really a question as it was simply curiously asked, like she was afraid of not getting a response in return. No, this Demonica didn't give her a traditional hello, but a name was okay. Now, in spirit of continuing without any semblance of regularity, the Demonica chose to ask who in-freaking-hell that Fantasia was, and further inquire why she was up here in the first place. There really was nothing shocking about the latter question, given she felt the same urge to ask Demonica himself; or herself. For the lord's sake she was almost as tempted to as she was to ask the being's gender, if there was one. Even as she took baby steps to get closer to the elevated peak, she failed to distinguish its frame from male or female. Well, she supposed it was best to address its questions now.

"Nice to meet you, too," she began sarcastically, before she became a little more serious. "Our name is Fantasia, Fantasia Nevermore. We are up here only because our destination is up here too. You see, we climbed this mountain to get a little bit tougher, a little bit stronger, and a little bit faster. The sheer cold helps us; and once we climb that peak we get bragging rights! Hee hee." Fantasia took a great breathe of the refreshing chilly air, heaving her shoulders up and down as the frost oscillated through her body. But still that inner warmth of hers kept the shivers at bay, and brought a strange comfort to her instead of a icy pain. She knelt in the snow as if she were about to take a seat, but suddenly her focus shifted as her gray hues locked onto the peak where Demonica stood. Her muscles tightened with power and shot forward like pistons, sending the blondie flying through the air in the form of a black blur.

A quiet "Hup!" found its way out of Fantasia's mouth as the blur landed on the absolute peak of the mountain, adjacent to Demonica and not three feet away from her. Her cloak cascaded, blown upward by the swift descent, cascaded back down around her body. In that small interval of time, her coal black body armor became visible, but it could easily be confused with just an odd set of clothing. As she recovered from the act, she set her eyes back on figure of Demonica and was now inclined fall right off the cliff as she noticed the macabre assemblage of cartilage coming out of her ass. At the very least there was a shocked exclamation from Fantasia, in the form of "Criminey! W-What is this?!" And In case the Demonica he-she did not quite understand at first, she was sure to throw a brusque finger in its general direction before she stepped back into a somewhat defensive, somewhat dorky-looking stance.

As Fantasia was known to do, her attitude would shift dramatically in the span of an instance, and it would be seen in her darkening eyes: Vehemence, hatred, recollection of her past. "Are you one of those Hollows?" she queried in a new, deeper voice.

Remember, remember...

A twitch pulsed through Fantasia in response to Demonica's embarrassed words and actions. She realized what she had done, and felt a moment of shame for it. Sighing, she would stand upright out of her strange crouch, and allow her hands to withdraw into the dark covers of her traveler's cloak. A look of disgrace fell upon her face as she tried this again. "A Demon... doesn't sound pure and holy to us, but as long as you are not a Hollow... eh, we're sorry for the rough start." Her eyes glanced back toward the 'tail' as she called it, which more or less looked like some sort of mechanical abomination then the tails she was used to. She had seen cats, and seen dogs, and even bunnies, but never demons...

"What exactly is a demon? There were stories we remember from our childhood but those depictions were of abominations who served an even greater evil. You look almost human to us, and you seem human to us." Her head tilted underneath her hood, as her expression became inquisitive. Fantasia's word were truthful, granted her humble origins as a poor human child in an isolated shanty town of a home. It was when Hollows had invaded the place and orphaned her that a new world came crashing down around her. Humans alone did not occupy the Earth, but souls of all types took residence here. Fantasia had acquired a desire to understand it all, and aside from the Hollows, this demon might be her first step into this new place.

Fantasia would stand prostrate and await patiently for the other female's story to finish, all while she absorbed the information being told. At first the demon's words fell kindly upon the human's ears, eliciting emotions of sympathy and understanding. They were creatures who although deplored by others as being nothing more than monsters, had the same capability of love and humanity as the rest. Fantasia threw in a subtle nod of amity as she explained all this, as would be appropriate. But as Demonica continued in her illustration of demons, it gradually began to transition into a dark confession. Sinister traits reflected upon her in the form of an aura, felt but not seen. In a very vivid fashion she told Fantasia quite clearly what her true nature was: She was a monster, if not by choice then by inheritance—an inescapable trait. Fantasia's sympathy... it was still there albeit waning, and some of her views on the world began to shift infinitesimally.

But...

She has ended the lives of many, and that was not something that could be overlooked at the snap of a finger. Fantasia found herself creeping back and deepening the furrow of her brow as distaste colored her tongue. Muscles tightened and twitched, as the atmosphere between the two souls became tense enough to cut with a blade. It was not just her own imagination either; the demon's aura was becoming increasingly more imposing to Fantasia. A spike of pain stabbed through her mind now, causing her to visibly wince in response. What was this? Her soul detection? Oh, something was going on, and it was not pleasant in any way, shape, or form. Instinctively her hand shot out of her cloak, grasped the handle of her Claymore, and within seconds the massive sword was presented toward Demonica with a singing metal note. With her subtle retreat, she had drawn a good five meters between them, so that her blade was not too threateningly close when she drew it.

"Are the humans so wrong, though, to call you monsters? You started speaking as if you deserved sympathy, relating yourself to us. But then you the truth came out; you derive from tendencies of murder and madness. A young healthy adult you seem to be from the looks of it, and yet you already have a bevy of bloodied lives on your hands." Fantasia's eyes dropped halfway as sadness came about her, and she looked hazy for a fraction of a second. However, it passed so fast that one could be convinced it didn't happen. When she refocused on Demonica, a spell of conviction had been invoked by Fantasia's will, and she was strong. Her other hand appeared from the cloak now, and now joined the first in grasping the elongated grip of her weapon. "You have our sympathy, but that will not make up for those who have perished at your hand. We will not be the ones to forgive you."

It would appear now at this moment, Demonica would surrender the pretense of being worth compassion, as her true nature would percolate out from the cracks of her guise; a black heart possessed this one. What was plastered on the demon's face was considered a smile by all means, but Fantasia was incapable of descrying an iota of kindness among the teeth she displayed. Her lips moved as if they were talking, but the voice was simply to low for Fantasia to understand her, that is if the words were even intended to fall upon her ears. But any regard for it disappeared with the malefic laughter that flow out of the demon's mouth. The human, in response, would further secure the grip on her sword. It's tip still pointed at Demonica, but whether it was for defensive measures or offensive measures was yet to be determined. One thing for sure; Fantasia's eyes locked well onto this distortion of the human being, sure to watch her movements for the slightest twitch.

She caught the shift of attitude, of how her wicked glee transformed into hushed displeasure at the sight of the Claymore. As if the world itself bowed to the demon's will, the blizzard quieted at her silence. It almost felt as if time had stopped. She spoke, and at an opportune moment indeed, as her words were silent as a wisp: "I guess... that is your answer." That's when hell broke lose, and the storm came to its peak. Demonica was blinded from view as the snowfall blasted her image away, and Fantasia jolted in surprise from the sudden change in weather. Her hood was blown well off her head, allowing her sandy blonde head of hair to whip around all over the place, along with the loose flaps of her cloak. "How...?" she would begin, and stop just as quickly when she noticed the discrepancy in the flurry above her; she would crane her head up vigorously just in time to catch the blurring image of her opponent. The reaction had to be quick...

Prior to Demonica's first attack, around the time Fantasia's hood had been catapulted off her head, she had pulled a clutch move out of respect for her gut feeling. Internally, the female's soul worked, making use of its multiple shards. Externally, space warped as four physical doppelgangers of Fantasia were brought into existence within the fraction of a second. Additionally, as an insightful measure, the true Fantasia would substitute herself with one of the clones, landing her safely on the blankets of snow below the peak, while the double that stood on the peak would be the one to notice the bringing of the first strike. And unfortunately for the poor double, there simply would not be enough time to react to it. She only made the initial motions of bringing her sword up to defend herself when Demonica's fist smashed downright into her weapon shoulder with bone-cracking force. She let out a cry of agony as the force shot through the rest of her body and even left a crack into the stone below. Her Claymore fell from her grip and clattered to the ground.

The assault did not relent.

Her eyes had unintentionally closed as the shockwave of pain traveled through her, so when they reopened they caught sight of the demon's knee hurtling toward her stomach. She barely managed to twitch before the joint smashed into her abdomen and battered her lower set of ribs as it pushed into her with astonishing force. She doubled over with an expression of suffering evident on her face, and coughed out a surge of rich red blood that split into a multitude of droplets before they splattered onto the stone below. But this time, the girl's eyes did not close, and her mind was pacing fast as it readied her body for what came next. Demonica continued the air combo as she began to extend her opposite leg toward Fantasia's center again. By this time she had somewhat recovered and her arms began to rise. The demon's foot impacted, and a mind-tearing anguish befell her once again, but yet she had still succeeded. At the exact same time that the kick would land, she would clamp her hands down on the lower leg, hard.

Snow shifted out of the way as Fantasia's feet skidded back in consequence of the sheer force of the kick. A paroxysm of raw sound erupted out in every direction just out of the power of the attack, and from the blood that now streamed out of Fantasia's mouth and nose, it was clear that this attack would turn out to be fatal. In this one's dying effort, though, she would hold tightly onto the leg with surprising strength. It was her arms and hands that were the most robust, due to her training with the Claymore; even if this Demonica was stronger in some ways, that would not get this Fantasia to release her grip, and her own power was nothing to sneeze at.

And this was just one soldier among the legion; in the wake of sonic boom that would have deafened all within proximity, came the counter-attack of Fantasia's detail, rising through the snow-filled air from behind Demonica as she focused her attacks on a mere clone. In silence the four copies of one another would raise their swords and bring them stabbing down toward the demon's back with tremendous strength. Four tips intending to stab through this being's upper body and pierce whatever organs she may or may not have had. With her being held well in place, it made her quite the easy target, especially for the swift and practiced fighter, Fantasia.