First Stygian Diviner:Apocalypse



"The factory," the man whispered, his voice barely audible.

Isiah's eyes narrowed as he looked at the man, his impatience growing with every passing second. 

He could sense the man's fear, but he didn't have time for cowardice. He had come too far to be deterred by anyone, let alone a man who was clearly in excruciating pain.

"Where exactly?" Isiah demanded, his voice hard and commanding. "I don't tolerate any delays."

The man tried to speak, but his pain was too great. He could only manage to repeat the same word over and over again, hoping that Isiah would understand its significance.

Isiah was growing increasingly frustrated by the man's lack of cooperation. He was here for a reason, and he wouldn't let anything or anyone stand in his way. 

He had been searching for Ciel and Lexie, and this was the closest he had come to finding him.

"You better speak now," Isiah warned, his tone growing even more menacing. "Where?"

The man took a deep breath and summoned all the strength he had left. 

"The factory," he finally managed to say, his voice trembling with pain. "It's on the outskirts of town. You'll know it when you see it. It's surrounded by barbed wire and guard towers. They keep a tight watch on everything that goes in and out."

Isiah's heart raced as he processed the information. He knew that the factory was where they were being held. He also knew that it would be a dangerous place too.

But he was determined to see it through. He had come too far to turn back now. 

Isiah's heart pounded in his chest as the guards descended upon him, their weapons drawn and ready to strike. 

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He could sense the fear and desperation in their eyes, but he also knew that they wouldn't hesitate to kill him if given the chance.

Their weapons were mixed, some were modern and some were traditional. 

He had come to this place on a mission, and he was prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead. 

He had spent a lot of time mastering his magic, honing his skills to perfection, and he was not about to let a bunch of armed guards stop him.

As the first guard lunged at him, Isiah dodged to the side, his movements fluid and precise. He could feel the power of his magic coursing through his veins, filling him with a sense of invincibility. 

He had faced countless battles before, but this one felt different. This time, he was fighting for something greater than himself. He was fighting for his brother's freedom, for justice, for the greater good.

The guards attacked him in waves, each one more determined than the last. But Isiah was ready for them. 

He countered their blows with ease, his magic providing him with an almost supernatural sense of agility and speed.

 He spun, ducked, and weaved, avoiding their attacks and striking back with deadly accuracy.

But as the fight wore on, Isiah began to realize that this place was no ordinary prison. The guards were not just trying to contain him; they were trying to kill him. 

He could sense that there was something more going on, something darker and more sinister than he had anticipated

 .

Isiah's voice rang out like thunder, commanding the attention of all those around him. The guards froze in place, unsure of how to react to his sudden outburst. 

And then, without warning, he uttered a single word that sent a shockwave through the room.

"Baytaro."

The air crackled with energy as Isiah's dark magic surged forth, a wave of dark power that emanated from his very being. The guards were caught off guard, unprepared for the sheer force of his spell. 

They were tossed like rag dolls, their bodies sent flying across the room as if by a powerful gust of wind.

Isiah stood there, his eyes blazing with intensity, as he watched his enemies fall. He had honed this spell , mastering its intricacies and learning to wield its power with deadly accuracy. 

The guards struggled to their feet, dazed and disoriented, their weapons clattering to the ground. 

They looked at Isiah with a mixture of fear and awe, unsure of how to respond to this powerful display of magic. But Isiah was not done yet.

With a flick of his wrist, he summoned forth another spell, this one a bolt of dark lightning that crackled through the air. 

The guards scattered, dodging and weaving as the energy arced towards them. But Isiah was relentless, his attacks coming faster and harder with each passing moment.

The room was filled with the sound of clashing steel and crackling energy, as Isaiah battled his way through the guards. 

He was like a force of nature, an unstoppable juggernaut that tore through everything in his path. And all the while, he thought of the little Ciel, and the injustice that had been done to him.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the last guard fell to the ground, defeated. Isiah stood there, panting and exhausted, his body still humming with the aftereffects of his magic and also the hunger .

 He looked around the room, taking in the devastation he had wrought, and felt a sense of grim satisfaction.

He knew that his journey was far from over, that there were still many battles to be fought and many enemies to be vanquished. 

But in this moment, he felt a sense of triumph, a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could succeed in his quest for justice

Isiah's voice was urgent, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of danger. He knew that they had to move quickly, before the guards came back or any more of the enemy's forces arrived. 

He had just defeated a small army of soldiers with his powerful magic, but he couldn't let his guard down for a second.

"Eijar... Eijar... we are going," he repeated, his voice steady and calm despite the chaos that surrounded them. 

He gently took Eijar in his hands, cradling the small, fragile creature between his palms. Eijar looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes, and Isiah felt a pang of protectiveness wash over him.