-ANCIENT-
by: Skyline97
Patters of water brought Geralt out of his sleep. He scratched the itch off his head as his eyes adjusted according to the surrounding.
"Where am I?" he croaked as the eyes scour around seeing nothing but bricks and metal bars. The lighting didn't help as it is dim enough to actually conceal the image from forming properly in his eyes.
"Grills, bricks, uneven flooring, dimly lit corridors…" he muttered as his eyes continues its relentless observation until it rests upon a stack of hay, presumably to be his bed.
"Oh" that was all he could say when a sliver of memory came creeping into his mind. His lips curved upwards. He chuckled as more memory came piecing together the events that brought him there.
"They got me good." He said as he tried to stand up.
The room was quite dark despite the candles' flame burning strongly. The positions of scones in the room are poorly placed that it did not even help the lighting. This however did not bother him in the slightest. Being a witcher has its own perks. There were no many people there. Just the way he liked it. The tavern's business has become slower as the time progresses. The conflict between Temeria and Aedirn has become more apparent. People began to avoid this strip of land, fearing that it would happen.
The horns would sound in the horizon and the roar of thousands upon thousands of men rang throughout the atmosphere. Fire would reign across the land as the skies turned blood red reflecting the carnage below. Rivers would run red and the sound of metal hitting each other amidst grunts, shouts and cheers thus signaling the fall of another man. They all fear this. They all fear war.
Geralt frowned at the thought. Throughout his life he had fought many battles. The scars that adorned his body bore witness of the truth. He began to feel tired, tired of this war amongst kings, tired of the war that never brought any good amongst the people. He began to feel sick, sick of the king's selfishness and foolishness. He cursed the kings who couldn't keep their pants on straight, he cursed the kings that couldn't keep their ego from overshadowing their thought and the most of all he cursed the kings that sends innocent and loyal men to their deaths.
"To what end, sending all those men just to show your might? To show that you own the land? The women? The children?" he blurted as he downed another mug of ale.
"Oi! Is that who I think it is?" A low pitched voice came from his back. "I think so boss! It sure looks like him." Another voice came out. "Why I'd be damned, if it isn't Geralt of Rivia! It must've been me lucky day! Ain't that right mate?" the first voice said. "It sure is boss!" another one came.
The floor boards are creaking under their weight. He would assume that these people are quite stout in stature. Nonetheless, the tavern itself is quite old. The wooden walls are etched with age. If he were to think the men talking earlier was large it would be easily mistaken by the sound of creaking floors.
He let out a sigh, "what do you want? Can't a man get some peace around here?" he retorted in response to their previous exchange.
A large hand grasped his shoulder, by the feel of it the whole right of his shoulder disappeared by the size of the palm alone. Definitely a mistake. "If you wouldn't mind Sir Geralt me mates and I would like to talk with you personally." He identified the voice was from the owner of the hand itself and it was the first speaker. The tone of his voice was monotone yet the sense of dread seems to leak from it.
Seeing no point in dragging this further lest risking the destruction of the tavern, Geralt let out another sigh and immediately stood up. "Make it quick." He said with a glare. No sooner they found themselves outside the tavern on the barren street. There were three of them, the first was a large burly man. From his build alone he was a man that relies on strength. The great hammer on his back was obvious enough. In Geralt's eyes he is quite experienced the scars that riddled his arms was enough for him to know. The second man was stout but not as big as the previous, he however shows balance in strength and speed but there seems to be something wrong with his eyes. His eyes shows so much malice that Geralt began to doubt his intelligence. There were no weapons on him except for his gauntlet. The third man was a tall but skinny in stature. The smile that was plastered on his face hung crookedly. He wields a longsword that hung at the side of his waist. The leader was an experienced fighter, one's a broody twit and another one is a madman.
"So, what is it that you want to talk to me about?" Geralt muttered as he eyed them.
"Well, you see Geralt. Here is the thing, as me mates and I were happily downing our ale I couldn't help but see you drinking over at the counter. I thought, well, best be kicking meself in the head, it's Geralt! We were searching all over the continent for you and here you are, in the flesh. The man waved his big hands back and forth.
"What's in it to me?" Geralt sensing a fight is about to come up. His hand readies to put up a quen sign.
"We're mercenaries Geralt. You might think that you are a free man but the thing is, in this world there are no innocents because everyone commits a sin. In our eyes, well, in our client's eyes that is you did a crime that cannot be let through unpunished." The man puts himself in a stance whilst drawing out his hammer. The other two follows their leader drawing their own weapon.
The atmosphere became tense. Geralt draws his sword and released his quen sign covering himself in a crackling blue cloak."Who sent you?" he asked.
"Now, now, that wouldn't be fun. How about if you manage to defeat us, we would oblige to all your inquires. Where are my manners!? The name's Alric by the way, the one with the sword is Gungnir and the one with magic is Triam. Now with that aside, how about we get to the fighting shall we? Triam! Enchant!" With that said the fight began.
Gungnir bolted towards Geralt with his weapons drawn. The smile in his face continues to grow as their swords met. The sound of metal hitting metal reverberated throughout the whole area. The weight of the blade kept pressing towards Geralt's face. Realising this, he steps forward pushing Gangnir's sword over his head with the flat edge of his sword. Geralt turned himself to the left and counters with a kick that connected to Gungnir's chin felling him to the ground. As soon his legs touched the ground an overwhelming force hit him in the chest area. Though with the quen sign was in affect it did little in absorbing damage dealt. Geralt was launched from his feet only to land on his side several feet away. Regardless the quen sign did the trick, Alric stood rooted the ground his body convulsed as electricity coursed through his veins. As soon as Geralt stood up, he launched himself to the side as a barrage of fireball struck the ground he once stood upon. Triam's eyes shone in dark displaying the powers that resisded inside him. Geralt deduced that his powers comes solely from emotion and not a one bit came from intellectual background. A powerful and unpredictable move, yet easily overcome with a bit of mind play. Geralt focus his mind to project an axii sign towards Triam. So enveloped he was by emotion, that he was blinded of the ploy. Triam was about to ignite the witcher in flames but that all came to naught when his darkest fears were brought in front of him. The specter of his past took the places of his comrades, thus turning friend to foe.
Triam's eyes widened, he let out a shrilling cry of rage. His eyes flared changing the earlier glow into a bright source of light. This display did not go unnoticed by his comrades and they all knew once this happens there's no turning back. The two mercenaries now became the hunted. The temperature around the area rose and Geralt with the mercenaries are the focus of Triam's wrath. Geralt began to sweat and his eyes met that of Alric's, he seems worried. Triam is a dry fuse, if it were to light he would be bound to explode. The Axii sign earlier perhaps was the spark. Whatever happens now cannot be stopped unless involving the death of a man. Geralt, Gungnir and Alric are certain they wouldn't die tonight. Just a single look to each other, they come to an understanding.
Cracks are now visible in Triam's face, the immense power is taking a toll on his body. Time is of the essence, if it prolongs the whole village would be obliterated. Geralt threw his dagger towards Triam, which to his surprise was deflected to the ground. Geralt lunched himself to the side to evade numerous volleys of fireballs and repeated his action earlier which resulted in the same way. Geralt then dashed to evade yet another volley only for his other dagger to be deflected to the ground. Seeing this, he nodded towards the two mercenaries. Gungnir and Alric burst out of the shadows with their weapons drawn with the intent to kill. Triam took a step forward to confront the specters yet found himself convulsed in pain. Geralt splayed his hands signaling the release of the yrden sign he enchanted on the dagger earlier. Triam's roar was cut short by the scrunching sound of his crushed cranium and his body tumbled as it was cleanly sliced into two parts, one for the upper body, one for the lower body. The returning peace was then cut short by the intrusion of another troublesome being.
"All right! Which one of you misfits disturbed the peace of this town?! I swear in the lady's name that you will be put under arrest and act upon accordingly!" The man hollered.
Geralt saw the glint in both Gungnir's and Alric's eyes. Being the man he is, he just waited for the worst to happen. "Here we go." He muttered in disdain.
"He did it mister guard sir! We swear in our mother's name, he's the one you're looking for." They both pointed at Geralt.
The guard's eyes flared and he draws his sword. "All right witcher. I'm going to only say it once. Surrender yourself peacefully or I'll be forced to use whatever that is necessary to put you down."
Seeing the man's shaking arm and gritting teeth. Geralt saw at once that this man is afraid of him. Geralt's eyes then travelled towards the houses that lined his view. He saw small faces and arms pressed towards the panes. He let out a sigh, seeing no use in putting this village into more hate towards witchers, he put up his arm in evidence of surrender.
Geralt saw the flicker of lights at the end of the corridor. The air around him smells of grime and dirt. Quite clean in his opinion other than the dungeons back in Temeria. The smell of dried blood and piss filled the air over there.
Geralt heard shuffling in front of him, whatever it is, it's well obscured by the dark. Geralt squinted to see better of the shadowed figure. What he saw sent chills into his spine, it is a figure wrapped in bandages from head to toe, what disturbs Geralt the most was his eyes. If the morbidity of his condition is not enough, the eyes were all black as if the irises exploded. If that wasn't disturbing enough, despite having no irises Geralt felt the eyes are focused on him, observing, assessing, calculating.
His view was blocked by two limbs incased in mail. Geralt's eyes traveled upwards towards until it connected with the face of the guard. The attire of the guard was a little different than the one that brought him in here. Geralt immediately deduced that the man in front of him is a man of power, someone that leads this place and possibly the one who holds sway over this village. The man's eyes were worn with age, his eyes traveled from the witcher to the other prisoner. His lips curved into a smile. "So, you've taken a liking towards the man?" the guard said.
Geralt raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
"Surely, you would know. He's just like you! Another abomination." The guard chirped.
Discarding the mock aside Geralt pressed on "He surely is not a witcher if that's what you assume."
The guard stiffen. "How so?"
"Look into my eyes, it glows in the dark. Yet this man… even in the light I doubt you can see his eyes, it's just an abyssal orb of darkness." Geralt retorted.
"That is true, I don't know what this thing is. When the guards were patrolling the swamps, they found this man limping. At first they want to help him, but then we saw five of our guardsmen lay strewn in the swamp. What got to me wasn't the five dead guards, but the condition of this man, he literally have a sword jammed in his body and still managed to limp towards them. It took a whole squad of patrolmen with an addition of a mage to put him down, not without more fatalities." The guards face was aghast. He raised his arms and pointed to the figure. "This thing… was sentenced to death by hanging, decapitation and burning."
Geralt winced hearing the weight of sentence. "Wasn't that kind of overdoing it?"
The guards gave a shaky laugh "That is where you're wrong witcher. The sentence has been done over a month ago… and this thing…. Just wouldn't DIE!" his voice grew to a shout.
Geralt's eyes widened. "You mean to say that the deed is done? You beheaded it?"
The guard put out three fingers to the witcher. "Three times witcher. You name it, we tried silver, blessed steel even red hot blade! His head rolls all right… but the body just stood up and retrieved it!"
Geralt felt his medallion gave a slight shake. His eyes were trailing the chains wrapped around the figure's neck, he saw inscriptions along the chains. "Was that chain with him when he was brought in?" Geralt pointed to it.
The guard's eyes followed suit. "No… That was given by the archmage, he said it was to "control" him." The guard gave the quote unquote sign.
Thinking that he has the guard's attention Geralt then asked the guard. "When can I get out?"
"That depends to the commander, you were charged with disrupting the peace of the town and the two people earlier mentioned that you killed their comrade… that would lead to manslaughter." The guard harrumphed.
"Manslaughter? It was self defense! If I did not do that this whole town will be wiped out." Geralt raised his arms in wonderment.
"Well, it's your claim against two witnesses. If it were down to me, I'd say that your luck is quite off sir witcher" The guard frown.
Geralt eyes were cast down. His shoulders slumped. "Well it's nice talking to you." He said as he lay down in his "bed".
The guard would have answered the farewell if wasn't for the rustling of chains behind his back. He took off as fast as his stubby legs could bring him.
Geralt simply wished for sleep to come and swept his mind. To his luck, it came soon after. The fight earlier must have drained him more than expected.
Geralt's sleep was disturbed when he heard chains dragging on the ground. Being in a dungeon and all. He tried to ignore it at first, but then he heard the other prisoners whimpering.
This however, unsettles him. He sat from his bed and looked around him. As if pulled, his eyes turned towards the figure. The medallion was shaking like mad, the eyes of the wolf glows and pulses. What he saw of the figure sent chills to his spine.
The figure by built alone is clearly a man. He was standing upright and rigid. It's hands was holding a chain at which he pulled in opposite direction. He was testing it, feeling the grooves that made the carvings on the chain. He was searching for a weak point. The metal collar around his head was also glowing. He realized this and grasped the collar. The moment his finger touches the collar, his whole body jerked violently as if he was being struck by lightning. He then fell to the ground like a log, his body convulsed as the jolting continues.
Geralt witnessed all of this and found himself moving closer to his cell door. Itching to observe more of the figure's acts.
Several moments later, the figure then stood up once more. As if nothing happened earlier, he tried once again.
This time, Geralt saw the inscription of the collar. The inscription promised certain death to whoever's throat it was enclosed upon if the bearer ever tries to remove it. Geralt now realized that the figure has actually come back from the dead from earlier.
After several tries and fails, the figure then stopped and turned towards Geralt. It's "eyes" if it have irises was focused in him. Geralt in turn felt the same. With more force than ever thought possible, his hand jerked on the collar and pulled.
The fine hairs on Geralt's nape stood on end when he sensed the strength poured from the figure. He heard the metal collar groan in protest and saw several jolt of small lightning escaping from the multiple cracks on the collar now visible to his eyes. For what to him seemed like an eternity, shows the unbinding of the figure. With a last groan and showers of small lightning, the collar now lay mangled on the floor.
Geralt heard several shouts and footfalls, the guards have noticed. He heard the guards shouting. "The mage is dead! The mage is dead! The monster is free! Someone, kill it!" they were now grouped at the end of the corridor, none of them even dared to move. Geralt was looking at them, rather in a confused manner. They would have rushed in by now, what's stopping them. He then turned around and his eyes saw complete darkness. He felt a hand crept up his chest and stopped exactly at his heart would be. It dawned upon Geralt that the darkness that he saw was the eye of the undead. Try as he might, he wouldn't budge. Geralt was looking straight into the eyes of death. As if rooted, his legs wouldn't move.
A muffled voice came from the undead. "Pure." It's hands then moved to the lock. It came out as a spark at first it then warmed up into a steady flame. It did not stop there, the flame then intensified in strength. Geralt moved safely backward once his legs then conceded to his biding. The iron of the lock turned red then bright yellow, it then melted from the heat as any metal in the smiths. The cell door swung open as it was pushed by the undead. The undead beckoned for Geralt to move, pointing towards the other end of the corridor devoid of any guards. "Out, go."
Guards at the other end of the corridor stood still. One of them snapped out of it and shriek. "Prisoners are escaping! Sound the alarms." The dungeons now are filled with the sound of bells signaling that the prisoners are trying to escape.
Out of the fray stepped out a guard adorned in armor. He then draws his sword. The undead cocked his head to the side as if not knowing what to do. "Well, what are you waiting for? Fight me! I will not let you out even if it means my death." The guard shouts. The undead then picked up a short metal rod about the length of his forearm. Seeing this the guard gave a roar and ran straight to meet the undead head on. The undead responded with a stance of a javelin thrower. The rod in his hands then changed into a spear made out of crackling lightning that rivals the sun. Seeing the error of his actions, the guard made a double back towards his comrades. The undead let loose and with a resounding boom the guards that huddled earlier are now turned to dust.
Geralt was near the exit when he heard the explosion. It is similar as a lightning strike. He looked towards the sky and saw not a single cloud. "Just what the hell is going on?" The journey retrieving his gear was not eventful, the place was barren. Perhaps all the guards moved to deal with the undead. Geralt heard another explosion, this time not so far. He saw a bright light coming from the tower, feeling needed he hasten his footsteps.
There was blood everywhere. The things that he saw brought him back to Blaviken. He shook his head and pressed onwards to the carnage that ensues. Hearing a cry from the corner, he moved towards source only to see a cowering guard squatting in a corner. He tapped the guard's shoulder. The guard then yelped in shock and then proceeded to wet his trousers, quite annoying in the witcher's nostrils. Once Geralt smacked some sense into the man, he asked "What happened here?"
Though still recovering from shock, the guard managed to steady his breathing. "It's the thing! It slaughtered everyone!"
"Where's it headed?" Geralt asked.
"I-If I'm right it's on its way to the mage's office." The guard stated rather shakily
"Wasn't the mage dead? Why would he go there? Whatever, go and find somewhere to hide. I can't guarantee your safety if this continues. I don't even know how to stop it." Geralt ordered at which the guard followed dutifully.
Geralt began creeping up the stairs, the occasional booming sounds above made him sure of the position of his target. Blood is now flowing down the stairs, to someone who is not prepared they might have fainted by now. So many people died here, the last thing in Geralt's mind is to fight against something that he can't kill. Passing several mutilate bodies enforces Geralt's mind that fighting the thing would not be the best of ideas. He just hoped that whatever made this thing move did not set on a rampage. The town has suffered enough, not that he liked the town, it's just that he doesn't want more bloodshed. Another explosion occurred, this time it shook the whole tower. The thing sure did not cared for his own well being. Geralt hasten up the steps. Upon nearing the end of the steps, he heard spells being cast and the voice seems familiar.
Triss Merigold was about to throw another fireball when Geralt came into view. Her eyes widened. "Geralt! What are you doing here?"
"I was about to ask you that question." He then saw the undead, the wraps are charred and there were swords and arrows sticking out of his body. Geralt couldn't help but felt sympathy for it. He signaled Triss to stop her actions.
"Move away from that thing Geralt. Whatever it is, my spells could not take effect on it." Triss's visage shows her annoyance.
"He freed me from my cell." Geralt said.
Triss gaped when hearing the statement. "You're in jail? Again?! Whatever, that thing killed off the mage here. I was about to strike a bargain with him."
Geralt now was standing between the undead and Triss. "One thing, other than it killing the mage, why do you attack it? Did it attack you first by chance?"
Triss now crossed her hands giving a more annoyed look. "No, I was angry at it."
Geralt put his hands on his face. "What were you thinking? Surely you of all people would have realized what that thing is capable of. It killed off most of the guards here."
Triss's hands did not cease glowing. She is readying to cast another spell. The undead moved again as if nothing happened, ignoring the swords and arrows sticking out of it. It moved as if guided by something, going through drawers, cupboards and other containers. Both Geralt and Triss merely watched from the side. The undead then draw out a short wand from a pile of papers. It moved its head to the side as if thinking of something, he then pointed the wand towards the walls. From the wand, came out a steady beam that rests upon the surface of the walls. The undead then turned on its legs, scanning the surrounding area. Both Geralt and Triss stood still when the ray moved past them. The surrounding walls now seem translucent and are now giving out secrets room. The undead then walked to a table and took out a staff, and motioned to both Geralt and Triss to move aside at which they complied. It raised his staff and from it came five luminescent blue greatarrows that pointed straight towards the secret rooms. The projectile as if loosed, moved towards their target with immense speed. The wall crumbled upon impact. It moved into one of the rooms, emerging shortly later with a set of armor and an effigy about the size of its palm. The undead then pressed the effigy to its chest at which the effigy the crushed effortlessly. A thin smoke came out of the now crushed effigy and drifted between the gaps of the undead's armor. The armor seemed to be growing as if it was being filled from the inside. After a while, the undead gave a laugh.
The laugh made Geralt confused. The undead now proceeded to open his visor that was obscuring his face. Geralt is now more confused to what he saw in front of him. The eyes were now healthy brown eyes, no longer the abyssal darkness. The undead gave a curt bow towards both Geralt and Triss. "Hail witcher and mage. My name is Zacharia Alderbraan, Zack for short."
Both Geralt and Triss looked and each other then towards the former undead. They were both unsure on how to proceed. As if reading their minds, the man proceeded. "Your name would be appropriate."
"I'm Geralt of Rivia and this is –."
"Sophia of Temeria" Triss interjected before giving Geralt the chance to say her name.
The man merely smiled. "Nice to meet you Geralt, as for you miss I would like to say call by your name but I can't because the name you gave me was a lie. A quite good one, but not good enough. He ended that sentence with a wink.
Triss's visage became that of shock and Geralt was eyeing the man in front of him. "How do you know she was lying?" Geralt asked as the silence began to annoy him.
The man was now sitting leisurely at the desk. "I lived a long life, Geralt. All I can say is that with time comes experiences and with experience you gain some advantages." The man than pointed towards Triss. "The way she stand, the pitch in her voice and not to mention the way her hands clench when saying the sentence is a dead giveaway to me." Triss tensed the moment she heard that sentence. "Though I have to give credit to her neutral visage, to someone who was focusing at her face, they would be easily fooled. I however did not see through my eyes alone, ask her if you wouldn't believe."
Geralt looked to Triss for conformation. She answered with a chant to give her clarity. What she sense overwhelmed her. Her legs giveaway and she knelt from exertion. This man has an abundance of magic from him, the magic that this man was that of souls; pure, primeval and immensely strong compared to her and other mages of the continent. To wield such power would mean that this man is an ancient. She shook off the enchantment and let Geralt help her up. The paleness of her skin and haggard breath was evidence enough to Geralt that the man in front of him is not to be trifled with.
The man's visage change to that of worry. "Oh I'm deeply sorry. It must have been hard for you." He fished around his pack and threw it to Geralt. "Tell her to take a whiff of that, don't drink though, I'm afraid she might die."
Triss took the flask, opened it and breathed the somewhat clear gas. The flask was hand crafted and the lightness of it shows the fragility of the flask. Upon taking in the gas she immediately felt energized and the strength that escaped her earlier came at an alarming rate. She threw it back towards Zack. Like Zack, the flask held something rather magical about it and what the man claimed was right; the magic that contained inside that flask was too strong that whoever took a sip of it might explode from being overwhelmed by the power contained.
After putting the flask back into his pack, Zack moved towards a table piled with scrolls and tomes. He sifted through them until he found the thing that he wanted. It was a large old book, the pages was worn from years of use, the spine of the book seemed about to fall off and there were intricate carvings on the cover of the book. Triss gasped upon seeing the book. Seeing her reaction, Zack put it neatly on the table and faced her. "You seem to know what this book is milady, care to share with us?"
"T-That is the tome of my late teacher, an arch mage. Why is it here? He would never part with that book. That book is a relic." Triss clarified.
Zack raised an eyebrow. "When is this? Did you ever saw whether he open the book or not?" he crossed his arms.
"It was around 15 years ago, I was a training mage back then. As for opening it, I have no recollection yet I'm pretty sure that whenever he holds that book there is magic trickling from his fingers. ." What she said earlier was answered with a chuckle.
"It seems he was trying to open it. If you use the spell earlier, you can see the residue on the sides of the book." Zack laughed then continued inspecting the book. "If he was trying to open the book, I would rather say he failed quite miserably. None of your magics can open this, it requires soul arts."
A chilling laughter filled the room. Geralt and Triss looked around to look for the source. Out of the shadows came out an old man adorned in cloth of exquisite origin. Geralt looked at the man closely while Triss's face was filled with surprise and Zack however clicked his head to the side seemingly bored at the newcomer.
There were dark wisps of smoke coming out of every hole at his cloth. The man then raised his arms and from it came out steady stream of darkness that moved in a steady pace towards Geralt and Triss. Both of them tried swatting the darkness away, Geralt with his silver sword and Triss with her magic. Their effort was rather fruitless, as they are now bound by darkness that restricts movement. "Master what is the meaning if this?!" Triss gasped out.
The man's face is covered in shadows except for the eyes which shone red with malice. The voice that came out seems out of place as if it belongs to a thing of unknown origin. "Shut it wench! My business concerns none of you, it only involves me and the man here." Her face was that of hurt.
"Milady, I'm sorry to tell you this. It seems that your predecessor has stooped too low. He confided himself with demons." Zack pointed out to Triss question riddled face.
"A small price to pay in order to achieve limitless power." The man clarified.
"Such foolishness, you are nothing but a dirt in my eyes. So much potential wasted." Zack shook his head in disappointment.
This struck a note in the man, in rage he roared and the shadow tendrils tightened around Geralt and Triss. They both cried in from the sheer force. Hearing their cries made the man smile. "Hear that?! That is the sound of them suffering! You don't want that do you?"
Zack's face was unchanged. "Are you serious? Ransoming against me?"
In response the demon throw Geralt and Triss towards Zack. Zack merely ducked under them. Luck is with Geralt and Triss for they landed on a pile of papers, though not a soft landing but still enough to negate threatening injuries. Seeing this, the demon throws a barrage of shadow spears towards Zack. The attack was fast, a normal human wouldn't have the chance to evade it let alone stopping them. Miraculously, the speeding shadow spear now hung in midair immobile and no longer a threat. Zack smirked at the sight. The demon then roared in defiance and the shadow spear lengthens toward Zack. It laughed uproariously when he heard a piercing sound of flesh and Zack was now skewered to the wall. It did not stop there, the demon then proceeded to twist the spears and its smile widened when he heard the sickening lurch of flesh. "It's painful no? Now be a dear and help an old man open this book will you?" the old voice of the master came back.
A voice came out from behind. "No don't!" Triss's face was now of extreme worry.
The demon turned towards the former student now a dignified mage. "What did you say to me? Did you just order me to stop?" the voice of the demon came out dripping in malice.
"Th-This is for your own good! You do not know what you are up against! This man, no, this thing is an ancient! I felt his power, it is even stronger than the demon inside you!" tears are now flowing down her cheeks. "Please…"
The red eyes soften "Now, now child, this man chose what's the best for him. Can't you feel it? He is stronger now! He seeks power and I give it to him!" it's eyes were met with eyes of anger.
Hearing the statement made her blood boil. "You liar! You're not my master I want to talk to him! Not you!" she screamed at the top of her lungs and her arms are glowing.
The red glow now ceased and her eyes met with the same revering eyes of her master. She took a step forward, she wanted to embrace the man in front of her. Her approach were cut short and the halls were filled with the sound of a loud slap. Triss was now laying on the ground whimpering. "Fool! I am a man of power! It is only fitting that I gain more! More power!" the voice of an old man rang defiantly.
"Well, at least now I don't have to worry of hurting the young lady's feelings. From all the I heard, you clearly let this befall on yourself. I could go on forever, but seeing that you aren't the patient type, I concur that you would just slay your way to power. You want that book or rather the knowledge contained inside the book right?" Zack now was holding the book in front of the demon. It's eyes widened when it saw the book that he tried to open all this time simply opened for the figure in front of it. Seeing the reaction from the demon, Zack even read a sentence inside the book. "Let's see here, ah! Chaos flame! Production of a mistake made by one of the lords who was attempting to recreate the-"
The demon cannot hold it much longer the figure simply took the knowledge he seek to uncover for as long as it is in possession! He would not let it pass. With a roar he lunged towards the man. The loud roar however, was cut short when he realized that he was held by his head by the figure whom to him has grown several feet. He tried to free himself but couldn't even with the help of the demon. He was lifted until his eyes were at the same level of the figure. He saw the man for what he is.
The archmage found himself in the middle of a desert. The demon he bind himself with is nowhere to be found. In the distance, he saw a figure limping towards him. Such a weak figure sickens him. He willed the magic he has mastered all this time, to come to him. As soon as he did it, he sensed something build up in front of him. The previously limping figure was now running at him full speed. The rags that it once bore now morphed into an armor of regal status. The arhmage tried to will his magic into being, yet it failed him miserably. He became frantic when the figure now was brandishing a sword and still ran at him. He tried to scream yet it stopped when the figure went through him as if he wasn't there at all. He turned to look at the figure and almost scream when he saw an enormous dragon was in front of him. Both the figure and dragon behaved as if he wasn't there. They were both focusing on each other. The fight between dragon and man wasn't something to look at, a dragon of such might would surely smite the man down with little effort. It ended as expected, the man was turned to ash in seconds. The following thing shocked him beyond believe, as if the man was an incarnation of phoenix he rose from the ashes and the fight continued on. With every death, the figure gained something and little by little, he began to overpower the dragon. In the end the carcass of a once magnificent dragon now lay lifeless on the sands. It was not the end, after the death of the dragon, came another figure. Great power permeates from the man, like before the figure once again met the man head on. The fight ended the same as the first fight between man and dragon. The figure was turned to ash from a lightning bolt that hit him square. Miraculously, the man rose again from ash and fought again. The process then repeated itself in front of the archmage's eyes. In the beginning, the man started with nothing, the challenges he faced was extraordinary. He learned from his mistakes and rose back. There is a sleight of stubbornness, courage, foolishness and even insanity. The man's stride never wavered, he never turned from a fight instead he faced them head on. He took no short cut, he braved all the hardships and survived. The determination shown was surprising even to the archmage. The figure now stood on top of mounds upon mounds of his triumph, this figure demands respect even kings would bow to his unwavering determination. In the end, the man overcome dragons, fiends even his own gods. He is now a man of great power , the power he wields fell gods that wronged him. He was the ultimatum. A man of great determination and bravery. That man now stood in front of him. The archmage tried to slink away in fear but found himself held down by an immense force. A bloodied gauntlet now picked the archmage by his scalped and put him to face the man. The man then raised his visor which is now also drenched in blood to show his true self. The moment the archmage saw the face, he couldn't help but feel intense fear that even the demon cowered from the figure. It was the same man in front of him.
Triss and Geralt saw what the archmage saw earlier, they made their best effort to move as far away as possible between them and the man. They now knew what Zack is capable of and out of respect they leave the fate of the archmage to his hands. Soon, they found themselves riding on horseback away from the village only stopping at some faraway hills and watched the tower from afar.
Back in the tower, the archmage was thrown screaming into a pile of books. The atmosphere in the tower were intense, the killing intent was enough to reduce the once powerful archmage/demon into a pathetic being. To someone else they would only see an archmage cowering in front of a man, but to the archmage's eyes he only saw his death mirrored by what he saw earlier in the flashbacks.
"I'm quite surprised archmage. Someone of your stature would annihilate me. So I ask you this, what's stopping you?" Zack's face was several inches from the archmage's shaking face.
"I-it would be suicide! You killed powerful beings before, who knows what you are capable of." The archmage croaked.
Zack laughed heartily. "Do you not desire power? Do you not wish to be like me?" Zack gestured to himself.
Something snapped inside the archmage's mind "Yes! Yes I do! Please teach me! Teach me to be like you!" his eyes was filled with hunger.
"If I give you this power, what would you do with it?" Zack was now holding the book in front of the archmage.
"I-I would use it to crush my foes and destroy all who oppose me!" his eyes are now slowly turning red in color.
Zack smiled hearing the response "A very good answer! It's very rare of people like you. I'm glad we met." Zack began handing over the book to the archmage.
The archmage stumbled towards the book and began running, his eyes glowing red, mad with power. His action was however cut short, the archmage found himself lifted like earlier and now he found himself staring into the orbs of complete darkness. Zack's smile now hung crookedly in his face. It dawned upon the archmage that he was facing a madman, no, the embodiment of insanity. He whimpered at the sight. "However I forgot a little detail for you. To obtain this power, you must DIE!" Zack laughed maniacally as the hand holding the archmage blared to life. The archmage screamed as he felt his head was as if pumped with hot metal. Not a moment sooner, the whole top floor of the tower exploded in a cataclysmic manner. The sound was heard all across the lands.
Geralt and Triss heard the screams of the archmage shortly before the explosion. They shuddered at the sound they whilst riding their horse back to their home.
From the rubble shot out a hand. From it emerged the man, an undead, immortal being, cursed creature, a demon hunter, a god slayer and ultimately a hero by right. He dusted himself of the ruble and walked. "One step at a time" Zack muttered to himself. His eyes scanned the surrounding, trying to find clues. He let out a curse and pulled out a staff. "Reveal!" the surrounding area became translucent. There, far in the distance he saw it, a bonfire. Several walls later, he reached it. At the back of his mind, he wondered how come after all this time how did people not realize the existence of this bonfire. He threw the thought aside, in his mind he can only think of someone, someone dear to him. She is out there somewhere, perhaps waiting at another bonfire, He smiled at the thought. He reached out his hand towards the bonfire and it lighted on its own as if responding to him. He smiled at the bonfire, to most it is merely a bonfire, to some it is a font of power, to him and numerous other who coven his fate it is a symbol hope. He reached into the flame again and whispered. "Take me home" with that the undead disappeared into thin air.
-END-