[ They fight like the Gods they are, filling the dark of the void with the rushing rhythms of violence; of justice which falls upon the horde of descending fiends in deadly veils of swords, each blade ephemeral and spectre in its phantasmal forging. Though not yet awakened (not at Julius has, borne as something beautiful and new and so very full of life from a silk-cocoon), Sion acts upon the destruction at his core, that primordial something (the equation which had been written) that began at the start of the universe and would envelop all else until the end of time.
He is old where Julius is new, and together they cull creatures for what seems hours (days, years) until there is no sound, no movement left, save for the plaintive cries of a single beast with wings shattered at their joints, pinned to the earth beneath it by way of several of Sion's blades. ]
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He is old where Julius is new, and together they cull creatures for what seems hours (days, years) until there is no sound, no movement left, save for the plaintive cries of a single beast with wings shattered at their joints, pinned to the earth beneath it by way of several of Sion's blades. ]
… You should lay it to rest, Julius.
[ Let them be done with this place. ]