Finally back after a long writer's block.  How many chapters left?  Probably 9 with special chapters. 
-
That moment made Hale freeze, his grip around Saint's neck recoiled as if fire found its way towards his skin, effectively burning him. A loud thud could be heard as the now limp body of his victim found its solace on the cold floor. Saint's head lolled to the side. Blood made its way out of his lips, forming a grotesque show of crimson bubbles as he tried his hardest to breathe. 
Hale cared no less to the worthless fool that's right next to death's door, but he couldn't believe it. Why Anthony was there, it's impossible... it shouldn't be. 
"Why are you here? " he managed to ask. He knew the answers, but it's something he wished to be a lie. His breathing hitched as he moved closer, his steps a little hesitant. 
Anthony's face was unreadable, blank like a white paper, but he never let go of his weapon. "Don't come any closer... " Anthony's voice croaked, his shears on a protective stunt, ready to defend himself and his companion stationed at his back. 
Hale shook his head multiple times. There must be a mistake. His mind reeled, struggling to accept that the raven he's been trying to track is right before his eyes but not Anthony... 
"No, " he whispered and laughed softly. The hatred and the lust to kill the raven was wavering at this moment. It's now filled with an insatiable anger for himself for getting attached, which caused him to try to avert to the truth that... they're enemies. 
"Why? " It was soft at first, a choke, until it pierced through his soul. He felt betrayed. Anthony is like him... he should be like him. A loud roar erupted from his chest, still questioning, "Why, Anthony? Why?! "
His gaze fixed at Anthony, whose eyes were now occupied with various emotions, first; a wave of disbelief and the second, a more repulsive one-a mix of disgust, hurt and anger. The latter made a mark on Hale's heart. He couldn't understand why Anthony felt this way towards him. He should sympathize with him because they had the same reasons. 
A searing pain stabbed his heart, a familiar pain he longed discarded-a weakness he doesn't want to have. His jaw hardened. "You can still change sides, Anthony... along with your companion. " He tried to convince Anthony as he tried to go closer again, his hand trying to reach him. 
Anthony coated his shears with his dark flames. It hissed as if trying to warn Hale. Anthony's companion, the cat man, also raised his gauntlets-ready to fend him off. 
For the first time, Hale felt as if he's a monster. The look in their eyes is something he doesn't want to see. 
Anthony shook his head, his voice filled with contempt as his eyes found its way towards Saint's helpless body. He should be feeling betrayed that it's someone he knew that's their enemy, but all he could feel is fury. For Saint, his uncle, Trace, the other victims and... Aegir. This is the person that made all these unthinkable things... who killed many people and toyed them. 
Hale shook his head, laughing deliriously. He opened his mouth and uttered in a low voice, "No... we're not meant to hurt each other... " He doesn't want to hurt Anthony. He couldn't bring his blade to cause him any harm. 
The hilt of his shears felt like dead weight on his grasp. As he opened his mouth to reply, a dark wisp of smoke took its form beside him. It materialized into the shape that of a man, one black feather flew in the air until it multiplied and became a torrent of raven-coated plumes. A sharp shriek followed until the smoke eventually dissipated and revealed the bowing form of Trace, his uncle. 
His uncle's head snapped toward their enemy, and his gaze resembled that of sharp blades. Although, already an undead, the veins in Trace's neck and arms bulged and twisted-a clear testament of his wrath. 
His words laced with venom, he spat, "Don't believe anything he's saying. You know he's the enemy. He'll just use you for his purpose. " For Trace, it's the undeniable truth. The scar that this person left him was immense, and him, as one of his generals before, knew him better than anyone... he's beyond repair. He doesn't have any conscience. 
"He needs to die. " The words left his lips. The person he's referring to was too stunned to speak, glued on his spot. His body felt cold and numb, but he could feel as if pain was trying to surface-the searing pain he long buried. 
Hale raised a shaking hand, pointing his trembling finger at Trace. "You too... Why... Why do you keep on betraying me?!" His voice was pained, desperate, half shouting. Hale never expected to unearth these feelings... to be this weak! He was supposed to kill! To be a predator and not to be eaten alive. 
Hale's dark aura roared, crackling mercilessly and making the air difficult to breathe. He let out a frustrated scream, fighting against the resurfacing memories that clawed at his mind.
"You all shouldn't have done this to me!" he roared.
Beside Anthony, Aegir, the cat-man, hurriedly cast a shield of pink energy. "He's dangerous!" Aegir screamed. A blazing hot gust of air filled the space as if fire itself were dancing on the wind.
"Get ready! " Trace's hand glowed with black energy, his hand morphed into sharp raven talons. 
The three of them desperate to stand their ground against the unforgiving wind. Even with the presence of Aegir's shield, it can not protect them completely from the power they're pitted against. 
Five enormous, rotting hands erupted from Hale's back. They cracked and moved viciously, like vengeful ghosts. Blood seeped from their skin, turning from crimson to black as it coated their surface.
Hale's laugh was maniacal. "I guess it can't be helped! I can't spare anyone, even if I wanted to save a spot for all of you!" The five hideous hands attacked the trio indiscriminately, and everything they touched burst as if struck by an explosive.
Anthony imbued his shears with his aura, hoping the extra power would be enough to evade the relentless onslaught and strike back. 
"Aegir! " Anthony called. 
From above, Aegir leapt through the air, waving his hand. A flurry of bouncy, pink bubbles materialized and shot forward like a rain of bullets. They continuously struck their target, enveloping it to slow its movements and minimize the damage.
Meanwhile, Trace levitated upward, arms spread wide. A faint blue light shimmered in his palms before flying into the air and solidifying into dozens of raven-feather daggers. Their razor-sharp tips pointed at their target, poised to turn it into a pincushion.
Yet, even with their combined display of power, Hale remained unfazed and insatiable.
With a snap of his fingers, a deafening noise erupted. A series of explosions ripped through the air as the bubbles surrounding Hale's five ginormous hands burst and sizzled into nothing.
"Taste this!" Hale bellowed.
Two of his hands clenched into fists and shot toward Anthony with the speed of lightning, leaving him no choice but to evade the brutal hits. Each strike was heavy, forcing him to stagger and grit his teeth. The next blow created a massive shockwave that sent Anthony flying like a ragdoll. His body slammed into a tree, and he coughed up blood, his right shoulder, a bloody mess of burnt flesh, and dripping blood. 
"Anthony!"