[ Vanitas is not built for self sacrifice. He is, inherently, a selfish creature— just by virtue of what he is, and how he was created. If he had the capability, he wouldn't have relied on any of these people to get this job done. This world just didn't operate the way he was used to— and while Vanitas didn't like to rely on others, if his Master taught him nothing, it was that he could use the people around him to see a plan through to the end.
So it isn't out of the goodness of his heart that he spots the spirit honing in on their healer and lunges between them. It's necessity— Elden's magic is potent, Vanitas can feel it like a small sun going off every time he casts— keeping him alive was the best way to ensure the survival of the rest of the group.
One moment Vanitas is yards away, and the next darkness sleuces off him as he's raising his keyblade, inserting himself between the spirit and Elden. He pushes the end of his blade through the monster's chest, but not before it puts it's own arm directly through Vanitas' ribcage.
Vanitas can feel the flesh and bone give way, can hear the wet crunch of muscle tearing. He yells, anger as much as pain as much as fear, and raises his free hand— pushing with all the force of his darkness to throw the spirit off. It wrenches the spirit's arm right out of his body, torn through his armor, and with it a surge of blood follows, hitting the earth with a sickening splat. Across from him, the spirit hits a distant tree and crumples to the ground, unmoving.
He goes down on both knees, his keyblade hitting the ground next to him, and Vanitas reaches up to pull his helmet off with a wet gasp. ]
@elden | cw blood/gore
So it isn't out of the goodness of his heart that he spots the spirit honing in on their healer and lunges between them. It's necessity— Elden's magic is potent, Vanitas can feel it like a small sun going off every time he casts— keeping him alive was the best way to ensure the survival of the rest of the group.
One moment Vanitas is yards away, and the next darkness sleuces off him as he's raising his keyblade, inserting himself between the spirit and Elden. He pushes the end of his blade through the monster's chest, but not before it puts it's own arm directly through Vanitas' ribcage.
Vanitas can feel the flesh and bone give way, can hear the wet crunch of muscle tearing. He yells, anger as much as pain as much as fear, and raises his free hand— pushing with all the force of his darkness to throw the spirit off. It wrenches the spirit's arm right out of his body, torn through his armor, and with it a surge of blood follows, hitting the earth with a sickening splat. Across from him, the spirit hits a distant tree and crumples to the ground, unmoving.
He goes down on both knees, his keyblade hitting the ground next to him, and Vanitas reaches up to pull his helmet off with a wet gasp. ]