Kim
"***I know buddy, I know. She'll be safe soon-***"

He felt odd when he spoke- something felt wrong about what he said. Why is he being so...*Calm.* That's it. He's being calm. Normally if he was on a job like this, any job really, he wouldn't be taking this long. He'd have gone down there and killed anyone who didn't tell him exactly what he wanted to hear, he'd have broken bones and crushed organs until he was given exactly what he wanted and then this would be over.

"***Summon... Summon big guardian...***"

His speech became slowed, almost as if he was just repeated what he heard and wasn't truly listening. Because, in truth, he's not. He cannot shake this feeling, this part of him that wants to fight- wants to fill the blackened hearts of those monsters in the camp with *Fear.* His old self, his old ways, the killer he used to be.

"***Momma not happy, I get it.***" He snapped back to reality, speaking plainly and kindly to Sweet Tooth as he rose- determination filling his tone as he glared down at the camp like a judge about to stamp his gavel and cast judgment. "***Do not leave the holster until I tell you too Sweet Tooth.***" And then something about him began to change.

** **
𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲***.***

His speed was beyond any heights he has achieved thus far. It wasn't so much as he ran to his new location, more so that he simply appeared there, instantaneously. He stood in the center of the enemy camp, a large curved sword with a fur-coated guard now held within his right hand. His eyes, black as the darkest pits in hell, held a gaze of such pressure and intensity it seemed as if the very shadows themselves grew larger while the lights around the camp dimmed- as if his very presence was empowering the darkness around him.

"***The witch, where is she?***"

His voice carried across the camp for all to hear with power, but it was no yell, it was as if he was simply something *Greater* Than before.
Charles
*Sweet Tooth does not protest the command and soon its little head is out of sight. But this does not stop its faint murmurs of discomfort and an impending guardian. But it will have to be disregarded for now. As his voice echoes through the hearts of the bandits in the cave. It suddenly falls silent, eerily silent. Heads turn, whispers exchanged and deep within... The leader stops in his debriefing.* 

*Sylvar Devantes, a man equally charming as he is lethal. As his palms draw from the map table in front of him, his men are speechless on what to say. Yet his ice cold gaze remains unfazed and soon a soft scoff escapes his lips. Surrounded by a sea of rugged individuals who could never make it in life without turning to crime. Scars and broken bodies little the camp all while he stands proud and virtually untouched. This perfect look is one of his bigger traps, as many underestimate him. Those very fools are either washed away at sea or deep underground, never to be found or remembered again.*

"Is it the guardian?" *His right hand asks as he follows his captain out.*

*Both men are adorned in leather armor, black as the night sky and lavish as once could get it. They are well defensed and there is a magical air about Sylvar that dares to suffocate the firepit flame when he passes by. With a simple gesture, all flame is snuffed within the camp and his palm sits upon his platinum-tipped blade. His gaze then flickers over towards the tent he had just come from, staring in between the crack where he can see the small form of the woman cloaked in pure white.*

"No... It isn't. It's something else entirely. It would have said her true name if it was." *He responds with a low chuckle, almost enticed by the thrill of the mysterious entity that is Tarin.*
"Get everyone into positions. It isn't just our eyes on her, it is imperative we deliver the witch without interruption."

*On his command, men nod without any question. Rushing to different sides of the camp, covering each others flanks as many are adorned with crossbows and long swords. Sylvar then returns to stand in front of his tent. Drawing out his blade before impaling it into the ground. This man... He is no bandit. He is out of place and as far as he is concerned, the men at this camp are worth sacrificing.*

*Tarin may not know it yet, but he is coming up on a very powerful opponent. A man not driven by the lust of combat nor carnal desires. Instead, a man driven by pure ambition, one long-lived.*

"Oh mysterious voice, you set claim for the witch? Why hide when you can enjoy in our festivities!? We are hospitable, you know~" *He coos as his silver-blue eyes flicker with arcana, a shield now placed conveniently around himself and the tent.*
"No harm will come to her if that is your concern."
Kim
He observed all like a predator finally cornering its long missed prey. His eyes, those obsidian orbs that held malice within them like that of a demon, stayed lock on the man who made his way from the tent. Based on pure looks, attitude and demeanor alone Tarin can tell this is the boss he's heard so much about...*Finally.*

"***Monsters like you and I, scourges on the world we tread and stains on the history written, we are not allowed such things as hospitality.***" His reply comes sharply, a potent yet smoothed over ego was well placed in his words.

He lifted his large blade, resting it across his broad shoulders while his senses told him everything he needed to know.

"*Surrounded, magic at play, leader and guards, Esme behind him. Good.*"

"***You would be wise to hold true to your word then-***" The cursed man said in reply to the final statement by the leader of the camp. "***-because my patience has run dry today and I have no plans to converse with scum like you.***"

A small smirk drifted over his face, slowly growing wider and wider until a sickening smile was held on the man's face. A smile that seemed to exude an aura of murderous intent, a smile that told all good and well that this man will be their end. His new state had been awakened, finally, and now is the time to put it to good use. A state of being he long forgot how to embrace, a state of enlightenment only he can achieve, a state of disconnection...***For he is the one who left it all behind.***

"***I am the man most cursed by heaven and most loved by hell, and you will be remembered in the same way you will die- useless, weak, groveling, ashamed.***"

Force erupted from below him, a sizable crater formed at his feet while rocks, various items from the camp and dirt lifted into the air. For one with a sense of magic the man before Tarin will begin to sense something powerful thrumming within the blade held in the cursed man's hand- wind magic of the most destructive degree.

A single swing of his blade was all that was needed, from both the strength behind it and the powerful gusts of wind launched by the blades magic, to send all the debris picked up by his step flying throughout the camp like arrows fired from the strongest of bows... Even that doesn't truly compare.
Charles
*As Tarin rushes forwards, a few of the bandits are overwhelmed but the air pressure that bursts through some of the tents. Yet many of the bandits who are under Sylvar's command show great resolve. These are not the rookie scouts or ignorant hunters from the parameters. These are Sylvar's personally hand selected men. One by one, they trickle inwards, rushing past their captain to meet Tarin face to face. There are five total men. Three are your standard front-liners, men who hold their blades out and shields close. Behind them, two spellswords whose blades ignite in a bright blue light. The arcane swirls around the iron and the palms produce flame that is then used to coat their weapons. Behind them, a woman who seems to be a trained marksman, her arrows coated in a dark purple substance.*

"Ashamed? Ha!" *Sylvar laughs as he curls in his fist, causing two man-sized golems to rise from the ground in front of him.*
"Pity, we could have talked."

*Sylvar then flicks his cloak and fel-runes appear on his arms and trailing up his neck. His magic... It's corrupted, twisted. As a wicked grin curls upon his lips, his two golems create blades out of stone to arm themselves. He does not dare underestimate Tarin. The man is powerful. But it has been a long time since Sylvar has had a fight of his own, one where he can truly be free to do as he pleases. His right hand is quick remind him of their job. No matter how adrenaline-rushed Sylvar may be, the witch is their focus. They cannot lose her in a fight or as colatoral. It causes Sylvar to suck his teeth as he groans in annoyance.*

"I'll give you the witch if you can actually live through a camp of my men." *Sylvar then taunts, letting out a hearty laugh as he extends his arms outwards. He expects most of his men to die. But a man as cunning as this... Has plans.*
"We'll see how long you can keep her too. Do I have the honors of knowing your name?"

*In the midst of his speech, standing well over a hundred feet away. The men who charged Tarin initially rush forward. The warriors attempt to surround him, their blades drawn while one slams it against his shield to create ruckus and disorient. All while the marksmen has her arrow ready and the casters continue to chant. Each one spaced out from the other.*

"You shouldn't have come here alone, freak!" *The warrior snarls.*
Kim
"***You seem to mistake me for some simple mercenary, a fatal mistake. I am no mere sell-sword and I am no man who clings to magic in order to find strength in this world.***" He shifted his stance, slowly widening his feet while his smile twisted into a look of crazed desire and carnal fury as he began to awaken something within. "***I pray you find no peace in knowing you have led your soldiers to their deaths today...***"

The shadows all around the camp grew larger and began to change form, grins from the darkness and eyes made of the abyss begin to take form all around- for Sylvar and his group of warriors it's as if something otherworldly is taking form before them. A monster finally being freed from its cage, a beast long starved of blood and meat ***FINALLY*** Having prey to sink its fangs into.

***"𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚂𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕'𝚜 𝙵𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍. 𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛. 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚠𝚜."***

His voice erupted in thunderous fashion while his body seemed to enlarge, muscles rippled underneath his form fitting shirt- seemingly boosting his already imposing size and height into something greater. Taller, bigger, stronger. His limitations have been lifted, the pact he formed lifetimes ago rebranded into his mind as he laid nearly dead after his battle with Noctis, has been reforged. *The Man Who Has Left It All Behind.*

** **
 𝚊𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚍, 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗 𝚅𝚘."

He hefted his sword, leveling the blade as the warriors began to approach him in coordinated unison, now he can finally fight as he wished.

He swung his sword in a wide arc towards the group, a single horizontal slash that carried with it so much force the magically powered winds generated act like a blade of cutting power hitherto undreamt of, if anyone is foolish enough to block such a strike they will find themselves very wrong in their assumptions. But, as is his method, Tarin does not stop there. Once his blade has fully made its way through the air he uses that attack to give him a lead, allowing him to charge forwards at the closest warrior and attack them with a swing of his blade meant to cleave from head to groin. Wing magic, turbulent and vicious, is generated on the edge of the blade to create a cutting force so focused it could shave a mountains side.
Charles
"We may have a demon on our hands..." *Sylvar comments to his right hand who gives a steady nod.*
"I'll ensure the witch will come back to me if this goes wrong."

"Wrong? We were given clear instructions-" *The man starts to rebuttle but is promptly cut off by his captain who snarls at his insolence.*

"Bring the witch, but no exact time frame was given Navien!" *The elf quips, snapping his head towards the other.*

*The headstrong and clear-minded Navien. Sylvar's right hand and brother in arms. He may not adorn the looks that his captain has but his frame is nothing to scoff at. The man practically towers over anyone he meets and while Sylvar is blessed with magic. Navien has talents hidden away in both his swords play and footwork. The rest is unknown but most know not to mess with him. Unlike Sylvar, he isn't arrogant but the two share a coldness that these bandits could only aspire of having. His dark brown eyes scan the sight ahead, his lip curled up in annoyance as his calculations are not going to plan. The witch having a demon on her side is no surprise. But Sylvar is a wild card and this sudden drop of information does not sit right with him.*

*His eyes flicker towards his companion who pulls out a single vial. Inside are small, red, bead-like pills hanging at the bottom. Two are dropped into Sylvar's palm and Navien can only shake his head as he turns on his heels to walk off. This fight is not his fight and he would rather get the mission done. Unfortunately for Navien, this means he needs to put some faith into whatever Sylvar has planned, if he can even call it that. As his back turns, he can hear screaming and chaos behind him. All of this for one girl, pity.*

*The screaming comes from none other than Sylvar's men who still stands proudly behind his two golems and shield he has conjured. The two warriors are able to avoid the cleave as they are nimble. One rolling east while the other slides across the ground, using the momentum of his body to get low. The third is not so lucky. As the powerful blade is brought down, he attempts to dodge the incoming attack. But the man was mid charge and switching paths is simply impossible. His arm is cut clean off and from both pain and shock, he emits an sound that can only be described as animalistic. Stumble backwards and barely able to hold onto his blade with his left hand. Panting heavily as his own warm blood trails down his side. Face to face with a monster.*

"Ignis!" *The casters yell, sending two firebolts Tarin's way from both the South and the West.*
.

"Got you..." *The marksman smirks as her arrow is sent flying. Slicing through one of the firebolts to ignite in flame. If her eye is as good as Sylvar is made to believe. Then perhaps she can be proud in knowing that her arrow could meet its mark in his leg. She aims to slow him down as she doubts she can get a head shot on Tarin.*

*Meanwhile Sylvar can feel the mysterious drug course through his veins. He twirls his blade around, waiting for Tarin to draw close once he is done fighting what he would call 'fodder'. Licking his teeth, he sneers as he waits patiently. He isn't a fair man, he wants Tarin as exhausted as he can possibly get before facing off with him. He wants the demon to struggle, to suffer and to eat the very words he had spoke prior. Ominous laughter escapes his lips and before he can take a step forward, he is halted by Navien again.*

"The witch is still in deep slumber. I found the item, shall I-" *Navien starts, drawling off as he glances towards his bag.*

"Fuck off, yes. Take it with group B and go. I want to see what this Tarin is about." *Sylvar spits, relishing the name on his tongue.*
 
"Understood..." *Navien then nods and he soon begins to walk off, knowing that he is safe given there is a shield, men, golems and just about everything in-between him and this demon.*
"Oh... And Sylvar?" *He then comes to a stop, looking over his shoulder again.*

"What?" 

"Try not to die. Otherwise I'll take the witch, say I saved her and marry her myself." *He jests before continuing in his path.*