Invade x Crusade

The tickle of the curved blade tickled your pale neck.

Metal rasped across your Adam’s apple, and the Nox responded as one—tight, silent, furious—a single coiled muscle ready to spring and flay the phantom who dared threaten their master.

You raised a hand to calm them, but it wasn’t the gesture that froze froze your comrades.

It was the light. Pale gold, divine, and petrifying.

It poured across the lounge in a broad shining cone, drowning the once-intimate glow into something terribly pure.

As it consumed the room, its' judgement was a waterfall infused you with an intense dread, the weight of which swept through through your bones, calcifying all it touched. You saw Cleo twitch, Claus exhale through clenched teeth, even Belle who fought and strained against the light, began faltered under its radiance.

Some of them hissed. Others whimpered. But all fell to their knees, and shook under the wrath of god.

Then along came the hymn.

A murmured melody, soft like the choir at mass. And from the shadows, they stepped forth—ivory silhouettes strapped in robes and silver arms, emblazoned with the Red Cross.

Crusaders locked onto your clan like leaping jaguars. Gleaming blades hovered above exposed necks, cold silver pressing into flesh still flushed with the afterglow.

One carried a crucifix that pulsed with an otherworldly radiance. Its light bolstered the hymn—and the Hymn engorged the petrifying light.

You chuckled as the hundred odd clerics spiraled through your ranks, gripping the Noxium in a sudden stranglehold “The Crusaders come for tea?" You called "I don’t know whether to be honored or threatened. This is one hell of a way to greet a man in his own home—”

The scythe kissed your throat a little deeper. A warning.

Your head tilted back slightly, and the silhouette leaning close finally revealed itself.

Of course, it just had to be: Lacrimosa.

Her wide-brimmed hat and silver mask warped the light, it granted her outline a flickering, sacrilegious quality. Her scythe shimmered like it had been dipped in starlight.

“Come on now, Mr. Vampire Man,” she sang, her voice distorted yet sickly sweet, “I wouldn't dare miss a party like this?”

Behind her, another voice growled—deeper, grinding, **** through clenched teeth. “Ah-ah. Don't even think about it.” The polished barrel, engraved with the crucifix alongside the daunting words 'DESERT EAGLE .50' pressed to Diana’s skull.

You knew this crusader too: Requiem. towering, armored and merciless.

Diana, in nothing but black lace and battle scars, kept her stance—even as his fingers pushed her raised arm down. She didn’t break her glare from yours. There was a flicker of defiance in her golden eyes, a readiness to erupt. You shook your head.

"Not yet, Didi."

She relaxed, but bit the inside of her cheek.

Around the room, the Nox remained locked—held in place by silver, by prayer and righteous dread. For every one of them, the Crusaders boasted two score of their own. And with each of your clan exposed, disarmed or half-nude in the aftermath of ritual bliss. There was no way out of this one it seems... not just yet anyway. You held strong.

Even with the blade dancing on your pulse, and golden light assaulting your nervous system, you grinned—aloof, calculating.

“You lot have a hell of a sense of timing,” you muttered. “Here I was just cleaning up after dinner and the fucking choirboys show up.”

The pale light crawled across your skin. You tasted bile and roses. The divine radiation scraped against the Frenzy humming in your bones.

And Vicky…

She lay **** still behind you. Naked. Bloodied. Veins already blackening with your venom.

Her body twitched under the holy pressure, her rebirth interrupted.

Lacrimosa gestured to the cadaver with a disgusted flare.

“So it's come to this, Is this how you treat your guests?”

You detected an odd trace of instability in the way she said that.

Requiem walked Diana; hands raised, closer, gun unwavering.

“You’re an infection, Drake” he growled. “And today we will finally be satisfied. You die. This den burns. And t-that thing—” he pointed at Vicky’s half-turned form— “gets buried beneath the rubble.”

You had caught it right away, both Lacrimosa and Requiem seemed greatly wrathful at the sight of Vicky's body.

Smirking you peered at the Knight in heavy silver armour. “Tell me, bud… is that armor supposed to be intimidating? Because before you started talking, I was one-hundred percent convinced that you were a walking kitchen appliance.”

A litany of snorts reverberated the room. Cleo stifled a cough. You could feel the mirth itching beneath the Noxium's surprise.

It spread like static through the room.

Then one of the robed Crusaders stepped forward, smaller than the hulking Requiem, quivering.

“Sir… we should end this. Now.”

The rookie’s voice cracked. By the look and the scent was he... yes, he was trembling and sweating.

"You're boy's right you know, I must admit. You got us right where you want us. Even if your men are quivering in their boots, I can assure you that the priests that likely diddled you as children are nowhere nearby."

Requiem’s finger coddled the trigger.

“Shut your fucking mouth” he barked. “You’ll keep still or I’ll be picking your little sister’s teeth out of the floorboards for a week.”

The muzzle of his gun nudged Diana’s jaw.

She didn’t move. But her lips curled—not in fear, but contempt.

You saw it now. They were ****. Dangerous, yes. But they had stretched thin their ranks to make one decisive blow.

This wasn’t an operation. This was a last bet.

“I always wondered,” you began softly, “if your little congregation would ever get brave enough to come knocking. Almost hoped you would.” You tilted your head slightly.

“Before you presumably **** us all. tell me one thing—what is the point of your little club anyway?”

The Crusaders responded in chorus:

“In the name of God, we stand against the darkness.

We usher evil into the pits of hell.

With Cross and Blade, we cleanse the realms of men,

so that purity may be restored.”

A moment of astounded silence passed. These fucking guys weren't serious right?

“WAIT, WAIT, WAIT,” Huginn cackled from under a Crusader’s elbow. “I’ve heard this one before! First rule of Fight Club—don’t talk about Fight Club! Second rule—don’t talk about Fight Club! PFTHAHA!”

He bucked in a laugh that peeled through the dead-silent room.

Naomi snorted. Claus choked back a grin. Even Diana cracked a faint smirk.

The Crusader holding Huginn growled and cinched the headlock tighter, but the damage was done. The momentary authority—fractured.

Your grin widened. Whatever they planned next--You had severely thrown them off by now.

The powers of the undead were heavily suppressed in this holy light, you could feel it being driven back into the pits of your soul, and although the descendant threads were enough to get you out of this, you could not guarantee that none of your ranks would be killed or worse in the process of using them.

But you thought, if these were a group of novices as you surely hoped, then all it would take was a little stalling in order for you to plan out a more decisive move.

For whatever reason, be it religious or personal, Requiem seemed to hate your guts. Inconvenient yes, but also an advantage.

"You came here, what - for the Girl?" Cleo spoke up, stern despite her pale breasts open for all the room to see "If so you are even more foolish then we originally thought. She accepted the Curse freely, what is done cannot be undone. You're too late."

Cleo was right, and you saw how that made Requiem's anger swell.

"She wanted it and she got... she got it hard, from every last one of us." You whispered, venom dripping from your dark smile.

You heard an audible gulp from Lacrimosa behind you.

The Knight in Silver's visor was fixed on you as his voice boomed "You fucking worm, I cannot wait to crush you. You're going to watch me peel the skin off of every one of these freaks before I even think about letting a bullet kiss your skull, you filthy monstrosity!" He growled.

You shot him an easy smile and spoke "You really do talk a lot of shit for a refrigerator."

Requiem's hand closed around Diana's nape and in one staggeringly swift motion, smashed her head down into the floorboards, the fierce crack of her skull echoed alongside his booming steps. closing in, He snatched up a fist of your grey-stained black hair and shoved the barrel of his gun into your chest as he prowled just in front of your face.

With heavy, rage-filled breaths he seethed "Do you heal as fast as that bitch I just whacked? I sure as shit hope so, I am going to take my time with you-"

"Stop it!" Lacrimosa slid into her compatriot's side, pushing his gun away "Remember our orders. We take him alive, and the Girl too."

"God-damn our 'Orders' this rat is all mine." He demanded.

With your head pulled back, your eyes were **** up to the ceiling. A shadow stirred in your peripheral vision, before slithering through the rafters. A head, blonde haired with magenta eyes winked subtly from the darkness above.

You smiled. There it was... the opportunity.