47 what we (could) become.

Damian barely avoided the opening salvo.

With mirrored movements, the two Apostles summoned a dozen spears from opposite walls. Damian lurched forward, the spearheads ripping open the back of his shirt and gouging his flesh. The so-called 'Cardinal' pounced, crossing the length of the church in a single bound, his dagger passing through the space where Damian's head had been moments before.

Adrenaline flooded Damian's veins, his heart pounding, his lungs sucking in ragged bursts of tainted air. 

He looks just like 'him'—the other me!

Damian ducked and weaved, stumbling backwards as Cardinal attacked. Each blow came closer and closer to the mark, slicing open his shirt, flaying a strip of skin from his chest. 

Cardinal cackled as he pressed the offensive, his mouth wide in a gleeful grin.

"You've got spirit, kid! Dance, boy, DANCE!"

No—he's nothing like the so-called king I met. He's something else entirely!