I've had so many ingenious ideas for the future of this story. Ideas of a genius so pure and powerful that it will totally warp the path this story will take with the addition of something very simple. I need to get the story to move on so I may set these things in motion, but I refuse to rush things. But it's so painful to waaiiit!
Sylpher: Patience is a virtue.
You're right, Sylpher, it is. But it's also a virtue that I don't have.
Sylpher: Ah, I see the dilemma.
Yeah. Oh, another stroke of genius! I am impressed with my thoughts. But it is a mixed blessing.
Sylpher: How?
Because, this genius was at a major point far into the story. I HAVE TO WAIT LONGER TO BE ABLE TO PUT IT INTO WRITTEN WORD! Meanwhile it is clawing at my brain, demanding release into the world of text. And I cannot obey its commands. MY MIND! IT BUUUUUURRRRNNSSSSS!
Sylpher: … I think you need to see a psychiatrist.
No thanks. I'm already seeing one. He's nice.
Sylpher: isn't he the guy that subscribes your ADHD and allergy medicine?
… Maybe.
Sylpher: so you don't see him for your mental state.
Well, not directly.
Sylpher: I suggest that you see a psychiatrist for that.
Pfft! Yeah right.
Anonymous review responses:
No anonymous reviews to date.
Just so you people who are unfamiliar with this system know, an 'anonymous' review is one given by someone who doesn't have an account on the site.
Sylpher: so even if you don't have an account, you can review.
By the way, I discovered something about myself recently. I'm a huge hypocrite! I claim that I don't care about reviews, but then I demand certain things be met for the reviews that are given. That is extremely hypocritical of me!
So, in other words, review if you want, tell me whatever, I don't care. I'm just warning you now if you give me a short review I'll give you a short response. And thus, my hypocrisy is ended. I'm also removing all things relating to my demands for reviews from previous chapters, so if you're just starting with this story then you probably have no idea what I'm talking about right now.
Sylpher: Now, you said you've been having great ideas, right?
Yes, I did.
Sylpher: If that's the case, then why did it take you over three weeks to write this chapter instead of the promised one week?
Because common logic and sense is something that I do not possess and as a result my mind and life are rather jacked up.
Sylpher: … Okay I can't argue with you there, but that's not a reason to delay this chapter that much.
Okay fine! I was having trouble with a few scenes and I was reverting to my lazy old self and blah blah blah! Are you happy?
Sylpher: Who said that would make me happy?
(twitch) I'm going to start the chapter before something very bad happens.
Chapter 4: The Heretic's Magic
"Damn it, Sylpher! WAKE UP ALREADY!" Thomas screamed at the top of his lungs in Sylpher's ear. Sylpher just mumbled in his sleep and turned over. A steaming Thomas glared at the boy in rage. He then heaved a big sigh and let his anger die down. "Forget it, he can just miss the explanations," he said in defeat, turning to walk downstairs.
In his frustration, he almost bowled right into Sylvia, who had come up to help him wake her brother up. "Whoa! Sorry about that Sylvia. You know, you're brother can sleep through a hurricane. How do you get him up?" Thomas asked, exasperated.
Sylvia smiled that cat-like smile she always had when she was about to do something mean. "There's a secret. Let me show you." She walked briskly around Thomas and stopped by her sleeping brother. She turned back to Thomas. "Well, come on!" she said, beckoning him with her hand.
Thomas sighed as he moved to stand next to her. Sylvia gave that cat-smile again and leaned in close to Sylpher's ear. She whispered something softly and the effect was instantaneous.
Sylpher jumped out of bed, doing an odd dance and smacking and brushing himself as if he was covered in something. "Oh gods, get them off me! Get them off me!" he shouted before realizing that there was nothing on him. He slowly turned to see Sylvia just smiling innocently while Thomas had his mouth covered to hide the smile and help hold down the laughter. Sylpher slowly turned his gaze back to his sister, a glare forming. "I hate you, sis."
"That's not very nice. What did I do to merit that?" Sylvia asked, an air of sweet innocence pervading her. Sylpher just continued glaring at her.
"What did you say to him?" Thomas whispered to Sylvia between bouts of laughter threatening to erupt from his throat.
"I told him he was covered in spiders. He has a 'small' case of arachnophobia," she whispered back, not losing her innocent air for even a moment. "It's the only way to wake him up before noon on the weekends."
Thomas chuckled at this information. Thomas didn't know that, and he had known Sylpher for almost his entire life. You think you know a guy.
Sylpher continued glaring at his twin for a while before sighing. "So, since you wanted to wake me up that badly, I might as well be told what's going on," he said.
"Well, I've been trying to wake you up for the past five minutes so you could listen to my grandpa's explanations of various things. Presea must have figured out what was keeping me so she sent Sylvia up here to help, even though she did all the work. I just enjoyed the show," Thomas snickered.
Sylpher turned his glare to Thomas, who turned around and walked downstairs in response. He was followed closely by Sylvia. After giving a sigh, Sylpher followed them down.
Downstairs, the others waited patiently for the teens to join them. When everyone was there, they all turned to Kratos.
"For the benefit of the kids, you should probably explain everything from the start," Lloyd said.
Kratos nodded. "First, for the few that don't know me, I am Kratos Aurion. I am Lloyd's biological father."
Sylpher and Sylvia looked at each other, eyebrows raised. "Wow, when I said I wanted to meet Thomas's grandpa, I didn't think I'd get to meet his real grandpa," Sylpher said.
"Life's funny that way," Sylvia answered.
"Moving on," Kratos said, returning the twins' attention to him, "I'm sure you've heard the tales of Mithos the Hero."
"Yeah, we have, but something tells me that there's more to the story," Thomas said.
"You would be correct to assume that, Thomas. But first, I think it is important that you know that I am the one who trained Mithos in the way of the sword and was one of his companions on his journey."
All three teens' mouths fell to the floor. "T-then you're…" Sylpher stammered.
"Over f-four t-thousand years old?" Sylvia finished.
Thomas closed his eyes, as if he had a head ache. "When I asked him if he was an angel, I wasn't expecting someone as old as dirt," he muttered.
Unfazed by their reactions, Kratos continued. "Cruxis, the organization of angels that the Church of Martel reveres as holy beings, was in fact created by the fallen hero, Mithos. He had split the world in two after the withering of the Giant Kharlan Tree using the Eternal Sword to prevent its destruction. He grew mad from the power he was wielding and sought to eliminate discrimination by making everyone a Lifeless Being, which is what most of the angels are. He did this in a twisted perception of the final wish of his sister, Martel, which was for there to be a world without discrimination.
"Also, he created a ritual to 'regenerate the world' by having a Chosen of Regeneration break the seals where the summon spirits slept on one of the two worlds and become an angel herself and then serve as the vessel for Martel's spirit. That is how Colette became an angel.
"I was the one who was in charge of making sure that the Chosen did not stray from her path in becoming a vessel for Mithos's sister. It was at the beginning of this journey were I met Lloyd for the first time in fourteen years.
"At the end of the journey, I betrayed them to Cruxis, though I despised myself while doing it. Because I could not deliver the killing blows, Mithos descended and fought the group. He was just about to kill them when the Renegades saved them, to my relief.
"Afterwards, I began to search Tethe'alla for the material necessary to forge the Ring of the Pact, which would allow a human to wield the Eternal Sword.
"Eventually, Lloyd discovered that I am his real father and my life acted as a seal upon Origin, preventing anyone from forging a pact with him and gaining the power of the Eternal Sword. Lloyd fought me alone, by his own insistence, and defeated me. It was necessary that I die so that Origin could be summoned, since there was a seal upon him that was based on my life. I was revived directly afterwards, however and continued to live. Lloyd made the pact with Origin and Dirk forged the Ring of the Pact making it possible for him to wield the Eternal Sword.
"After Mithos was defeated and the world had been restored, I went to the comet Derris-Kharlan, the main base of Cruxis, to lead what was left of the organization as it drifted throughout the stars, as my self-inflicted punishment for the sins I had done," Kratos finished his long story, his face a stony mask throughout it.
The three were speechless. There wasn't much that could be said to that. Sylvia and Sylpher turned to Thomas, who had been silent throughout the story, the same expression on his face. Thomas looked at Kratos critically. Kratos returned the gaze.
After a few tense moments, Thomas sighed. "So, let me get this straight," He said, leaning back in his chair, "You were one of Mithos's closest friends and you helped him with Cruxis for around four thousand years. You watched as the worlds were split and thousands upon thousands of people were killed pointlessly in an attempt to revive his dead sister. Roughly forty years ago, you met grandma and a while later, Dad was born. Three years after that, something happened and Mom died while you vanished and Dad was left in the care of Grandpa Dirk. Then, twenty-two years ago, you pretended to be a mercenary and spied on Dad's group as they made their way around Sylvarant, performing a ritual which would take Mom's life at the end. All that time you knew that Dad was your son. I've got it right so far, don't I?"
With each word, Thomas's voice grew colder and colder. Lloyd let out a sad sigh. He knew where this was going. He was hoping this wouldn't have happened.
"Then, at the end of the journey, you betray your only son and nearly kill him. When your boss shows up, you don't even raise a finger to help him. Instead, the Renegades save him and Mom and everyone else from certain death. You then only made appearances occasionally, shirking your duties with Cruxis to find materials to forge the Ring of the Pact so a human could use the Eternal Sword. Sure, you helped the group by telling them where to go from time to time, but that was it. Finally, you made your only son fight you to the death. I know that he insisted that it be one-on-one, but still. You knew that if he lost, he would die, and you were willing to risk that." Thomas fixed Kratos with a cold stare, reminiscent of Kratos's own. "From what I understand, all the wrong things you've done outweigh the good by far."
"Thomas, stop it. Kratos went on Derris-Kharlan because he felt guilty about everything he did. I don't think you should make him feel any worse than he already does." Colette told her son.
"You're asking me to trust a man who did all sorts of things that many would have refused to do, a man whom I've known for not even a day, just because he's my grandfather and he regrets his decisions. I see no reason to trust him. I don't care if he regrets his actions enough that he would willingly commit suicide. This man is not my grandfather." The atmosphere in the room had become chilling. Thomas stood and walked towards the door. "I'll be outside."
"Thomas, wait!"Colette called after him as the door shut. She got up to chase after he son.
"Let him be, Colette," Lloyd said. Everyone turned to Lloyd curiously. "I know what it must feel like for Thomas while he's going through this. When I first found out Kratos was my dad, remember how I flat out denied the truth? I didn't want someone like him to be my father. For Thomas, this is the first time that he's met Kratos. To find out that the man you've wanted to meet for so long has done terrible things in the past, it would be devastating. I think the best thing for him right now is to sort it out on his own. We can't force him to trust Kratos. He'll come around eventually."
"Lloyd is right; Thomas will eventually accept the fact that he and I are related. After all, he's a smart kid. He can't reject reality forever," Kratos said.
"Now, putting aside Thomas for now, please explain how you managed to return, Kratos," Presea said.
Kratos closed his eyes and bowed his head. "To be honest, I do not recall how it was that I ended up here. Everything was proceeding as usual, when I was informed that Welgaia was under attack. The next thing I remember is me waking up to Thomas doing homework in the middle of the night."
"Do you remember anything about the man that brought you here?" Colette asked.
"… I cannot say I know of whom you speak," Kratos told her.
"He was of average height and wore a beer-bottle brown shirt with two black sashes across his chest. He wore black pants and a black cape as well. His boots and hair were the same color as his shirt," Presea reported, hoping to jog the Seraph's memory.
Kratos shook his head. "I do not recall meeting such a man. But, I can faintly recall a figure. It's blurry, but I remember him being bald with extremely pale skin. He wore a black cloak… That's all I can remember. It would seem something happened and my memory of the event has faded."
"I see. Well, I suppose we should just be glad that you're back," Lloyd said, getting up. "Now, we should probably fill you in on everything that's happened since you left on Derris-Kharlan."
"I'm going outside too. I don't want a history lesson. Having one with Aunt Raine makes one very wary of such things," Sylpher said, as he headed towards the door.
Sylvia quickly caught up to him. "Don't leave me behind!" she practically yelled at him.
Thomas did a loop as he flew in circles around Dirk's house. Flying always helped him relax. It was one of the greater benefits of the angelic being. The feeling of nothing supporting you but yourself as you rushed through the skies by your own power… Not even riding a Rheiard could compare to that experience.
He had gotten worked up enough that the focus required to keep his angelic abilities in check had slipped. He just couldn't understand how his parents, who knew what that man had done, had even experienced it themselves, could possibly trust him. It was obvious they did.
He let out a deep breath and landed, pulling in his auburn wings. He felt the constraints of his focus return as his vision became much plainer and his sense of hearing diminished. He sighed once more as he walked to his grandmother's grave and sat down. "Why was I cursed this way?" he asked no one in particular.
"Because you always look at the negatives and you never think of the positives," a familiar voice joked. Thomas turned to see Sylpher and Sylvia walking towards him. "And because fate likes to toy with you," Sylpher continued.
Thomas rolled his eyes. "Since when is logical thinking called pessimism?" he asked.
"Since about thirty-nine years ago," Sylvia said.
"What happened then?"
"Your dad was born." All three laughed at that.
"So why did you guys come out here?" Thomas asked.
"They're explaining to your grand-" Thomas shot Sylpher a glare, making him rethink using that word "-um, I mean, Kratos, about the stuff with Ratatosk and other things. Boring history lessons that Aunt Raine would probably make us go mad with the amount of detail in it."
Thomas nodded. "I see. And what's the other reason?"
"What makes you think there's another reason?" Sylpher asked, shocked.
"I've known you two for most of my life. If I didn't know that there was some ulterior motive, then I would be ashamed to call myself your friend."
"Well, he's got us there," Sylvia said. Both twins sighed.
"So, c'mon, spit it out. Why are you really here?" Thomas prodded.
"Well, we think you were being pretty harsh on Kratos," Sylpher started.
"Yeah, I mean, he did spend twenty-two years of virtual isolation because of what he did. You have got to remember, the angels of Welgaia weren't the best people to talk to, from the way Kratos described them," Sylvia finished.
"And your point is?" Thomas asked, putting his hands behind his head.
"Thomas, you're a smart guy. You don't need us to elaborate on that. Even a five-year old would have understood it," Sylvia said.
"I know you're trying to tell me that I should take that as retribution for his sins. But that's not really trying to make up for what he did," Thomas told them.
"Um, okay then. If damning yourself to a hell of isolation with no one to keep you company but a bunch of unthinking, unfeeling bird brains isn't retribution, then what is?"
"Staying with the people you sinned against and working as hard as you can to make up for them," Thomas said flatly. "To go off on a comet and leave everything and everyone that you ever hurt or betrayed behind is irresponsible and completely cowardly. It is running away from the things you did, not making up for them, no matter how torturous the road."
"Dammit Thomas, you're going to become a philosopher at this rate," Sylpher said.
"Well, I guess I did get Dad's uncanny ability to have epiphanies at random points in time," Thomas said with a laugh.
"What do you mean 'random'? You have one at least twice a day!" Sylvia shouted.
"It's not like I plan them," Thomas told her.
"Hey, guys, it doesn't matter. Thomas, I know you're not telling us something. If there's a good reason why you don't trust Kratos, then let us know. If you don't, then we will never stop badgering you about it," Sylpher said.
Thomas closed his eyes and sighed. "At first, it was because of the things we've talked about. Now, it's because the circumstances of his reappearance are too suspicious."
"What do you mean-" Sylvia began
"I had been flying to relieve my stress. I had angelic hearing at the time so I've heard everything else. He doesn't remember how he got here. There are either two possible reasons as to why this is. Either he will not remember, or he can't remember. If it's the first one, then that means he is hiding something, which means that he cannot be trusted. If it's the latter, then that means that either something happened to his memory – maybe he hit his head or something – or someone won't let him remember, in which case he really can't be trusted. It may seem harsh and unnecessary, but at least one of us has to think cautiously rather than take everything at its face value," Thomas told them grimly.
The twins stared at him in shock. "Damn, Thomas. It makes perfect sense, but still… just damn." Sylpher breathed.
"You're probably the only one of us cynical enough to think of that possibility," Sylvia told him.
"No thanks are necessary," Thomas shrugged.
"That wasn't a compliment."
"Hey you three," Lloyd called out at them. "Everyone's getting ready to go. Go get your stuff packed."
"Coming!" Thomas said. He stood and the three friends quickly walked inside and upstairs to pack their things.
It was late afternoon as they approached the gates to the village. A tall elven man wearing a crimson cloak that covered his body from head to toe was arguing with the guards. The sleeves were even long enough to hide his hands from sight.
"Explain to me again why you can't lead me to the people I wish to meet," He commanded. His voice was vibrant and full of childish energy, as if the owner was exultant in the fact that he lived.
"Well, before I couldn't because I didn't know where they were. Now, I can't because they're standing behind you," the guard answered, pointing behind the man. He turned around. The hood hid most of his features but the bottom of his chin was still visible. It was pale, almost like a skeleton. On his chest, he wore a symbol that was unfamiliar to everyone in the group. It was completely black, leaving only the vague outline of a grave with a skeletal hand reaching from it.
"Ah, I see. I have some questions for the Heroes of Regeneration," he said, approaching Lloyd and Colette. "I have heard in my travels that long ago, you came across a book called the Necrimonicon. I would like to know anything about this book that you may know."
Sylpher crossed his arms and looked at the elf skeptically. "You know, most people consider it rude to start demanding things from someone when you haven't even introduced yourself," he said.
The mysterious man dipped his head in apology. "Of course, you are right. But I have been known by many names and titles, so I'm not sure which one to use." He pondered the problem for a moment. "I think it would be best if you called me Heretic Bios, Leader of Samael's Disciples."
"That is an unusual name, not to mention an ominous title and obscure group that is associated with it," Presea said, narrowing her eyes, "How can we trust you?"
Heretic Bios chuckled a little. "I am commonly referred to as Heretic by the Church of Martel, since I believe it is wrong. I believe in gods other than the Goddess Martel, and reject her existence all together. And so, the Church calls me Heretic. As for Bios, it holds a special meaning to me and Samael's Disciples is the organization – which is very small currently – that I am in charge of that shares my views. To make it simple for you, just call me Bios. Now, about those questions…" Bios pried.
"How do we know your reasons for seeking such knowledge are just? That book contains spells and curses that are an affront to life itself," Kratos told him.
"I believe that it may also contain information which may help prove the existence of at least one of my gods. Unless I show proof, none of these people will believe me," Bios said, a hint of melancholy tainting the last sentence.
"Well, I don't see a reason not to help you. We'll answer them later. But first, please come with us to our house. We've just gotten back and we'd like to rest," Lloyd said.
"I understand. Please, lead the way." He fell in line at the back.
As they made their way home, Presea, Sylpher, and Sylvia broke off to head back to the Sage's home. Bios seemed about to protest, but Presea assured him that she would return after she and her kids unpacked their things. With this, Bios fell silent and continued behind the Aurions.
Upon reaching the house, Bios was told to make himself at home and Colette set about preparing dinner. Lloyd sat down across from Bios while Kratos, who wanted to keep an eye on the elf, sat nearby.
"Now, about the Necrimonicon…" Bios began.
"Well, to be honest, we never actually got a look at what was inside the book. I remember the Professor saying something about it containing dark spells and we actually saw one of those spells used," Lloyd told him.
"I see. Which spell would that be?"
"Well, it was a spell to revive the dead. It's a long story, but basically, we were tricked into gathering nine cursed weapons and the man who tricked us revived the Dark Lord Nebilim afterwards and we managed to kill him, preventing Nebilim from basically destroying everything."
Bios seemed practically giddy. "Excellent. Do you know where the book is now? I've been searching for that book for my entire life!" He exclaimed.
Lloyd looked down, unable to look the man in the eye after hearing that. "Well, after we defeated Nebilim, we kind of… burned the book."
"You did what?" Bios deadpanned.
"That book contained spells and other magic that is better left lost to this world. They did the right thing in burning it," Kratos said.
Bios sighed. "Do you know all of the kinds of spells that were contained in that book?" he asked.
At that moment, Presea walked in the door, her children in tow. "Pardon us if we're interrupting. You said you had wanted to speak with me as well." Presea said as she took a seat next to Lloyd. Bios turned to face her while Sylpher and Sylvia went upstairs, looking for Thomas.
"I have just been informed that the Necrimonicon was burned. If this is true, then I must ask you if you know of the spells that had been written in the book," Bios explained briefly.
"I cannot say I knew much more than that it contained dark spells that were best forgotten," Presea said.
"And we may have seen a powerful spell used from it, but I'm certain that there were far more dangerous spells. It needed to be destroyed. Surely you can understand that," Lloyd said, trying to calm Bios. Kratos merely continued to watch the robed elf like a hawk.
Everyone could practically feel the man's vengeful glare burning beneath the hood of his robe. "I know of the spells you ask of," Kratos said, drawing the wrathful gaze to him. Kratos met it with his own death-glare. "It contained spells which called back the spirits of those who had left the world; that much is true. But it also harbored incantations which could give unnatural life to a fallen corpse between its pages," Kratos reported, his eyes never leaving the man.
Bios nodded, some of his rage seeming to die down. "That's a complicated way of saying it, but yes. To put it more simply, it was an instruction manual in the art of Necromancy."
"Neck-row-man-see?" Lloyd stuttered, stumbling over the unfamiliar term.
"Necromancy is more commonly known as the Magic of the Dead. That name, however, leads to a misconception. It would be easier to show you rather than explain." Bios pulled from his cloak the carcass of a rabbit and threw it on the table.
Lloyd stared at it skeptically. "And you carry a dead rabbit with you why?" He asked.
Ignoring the question, Bios lifted his thumb to his mouth and bit down, drawing blood. Chanting in an unfamiliar language, Bios allowed a single drop of blood to fall upon the dead rabbit.
The rabbit began to shake and shiver as bizarre cracking sounds emitted from it. Lloyd backed up in his chair, Presea yelped in surprise, and Colette gasped, forgetting her cooking, as what looked like a sword made out of bone forced its way through the creature's stomach. It was followed by an upper arm covered in exposed muscle and a body similar to the arm with a vague humanoid shape finally emerged. The head was in the middle of the torso and was twisted so that it looked more like a slab of bone with an oval cut in it to show a mouth. Muscle covered every part of its body. It had two legs and thin slabs of muscle that could only have been feet. It only had one arm, the arm that had a sword on the end. The muscular build was focused on that appendage, giving the creature a lopsided stance.
The skin of the rabbit folded in on itself, making it clear that the creature was made from the rabbit's body parts.
Kratos had his sword at Bios's throat in an instant. "Just as I thought," He said, glaring death at the man.
"I hardly think it proper to threaten to kill a man just because he can make a Horror out of a rabbit's carcass. Such a feat is very simple to do. Really, one can reanimate a rotten corpse with just as much difficulty," he said calmly, seemingly oblivious to the sword in front of him.
"From my experience, no necromancer can ever mean well. The very nature of their magic thrives on the pain and suffering of others. I know that the manipulation of dead creatures isn't the only thing that Necromancy can do. I'm sure that your 'art' is the real reason for your title of Heretic, too," Kratos hissed, waiting for the man to make a move.
"You are correct, sir," the smile was evident in Bios's voice, "but I can honestly say that I was going to leave this home without doing any harm. A very noble thing to do, especially considering that the inhabitants were responsible for the destruction of my book."
"I don't believe your lies for a moment."
"What the hell is going on?" Thomas shouted as he came down the stairs to see Kratos holding the Flamberge at the throat of the strange man from before. He noticed that his mom was staring in horror at something on the table, while dinner was burning behind her. He followed her line of vision to see the creature that Bios had created from the remains of the rabbit. "…" Thomas stared in disgusted interest as the little being that was clearly not natural. It made sickening squelches and what sounded like the crack of a wet bone as it gently swayed back and forth in a hypnotizing manner.
Sylpher came down and looked over Thomas's shoulder. "What's so interest- Sylvia, you've got to see this," he called when he caught sight of the little creature.
Sylvia was quick to follow. "What?" she asked. Then she saw what most of the room was looking at. "What the hell is that thing?" she demanded.
Seeing his chance, Bios used the distraction created by the teens' arrivals and made a commanding gesture towards Kratos and the Horror, as he had called it, leapt at Kratos, swinging its miniscule sword-arm. Kratos easily cut the beast in half, the two pieces falling to the ground and immediately turning to dust. However, the slight distraction gave Bios enough time to jump away.
Quick as lightning, the Flamberge was swinging through the air in a wide arc, losing little time in the destruction of the minor nuisance. The sound of tearing cloth filled the air as the lower half of Bios's robe was torn. The sight below caused everyone to gasp in horrified fascination. Bios sighed and pulled the rest of the robe off, fully uncovering the disturbing apparel of the necromancer.
The man's body was covered from head to toe in bones as if they were parts of a suit of armor. Ribs formed a breastplate while sections of spinal cords connected that to the two pelvises that protected his waist. Long bones wrapped around his arms and legs while the bones of hands and feet formed his boots. His forearms and hands were left bare, revealing his ghostly white skin. Bone fragments wrapped around his neck, protecting the vulnerable area from harm. Through the gaps in the bones, a crimson under-suit was visible. As a helmet he wore a bleached white skull, complete with the lower jaw. The mouth was partially open to show his mouth, which revealed healthy skin beneath the mask. Out of the eye sockets, two jade eyes gazed at them all with morbid intensity.
"I had hoped I could leave here without causing a ruckus, but that man simply won't allow me to leave peacefully." Bios pointed at Kratos. "I've seen his kind before. If he feels anyone he cares about is threatened, he will do anything to protect them. Now, though our time together was short, I must bid you all farewell," Bios said with a slight bow before a hammer the size of a poliwigle smashed the door to pieces. Three Horrors, two similar to the smaller one created earlier and one that had a large hammer instead of a sword, stepped into the building and took defensive positions around the necromancer. Bios ran out the door, his undead minions swiftly following him in an ungainly lope.
"After him!" Kratos shouted. Everyone immediately snapped out of their stupor from the sudden appearance of the larger Horrors and chased after the necromancer.
Unfortunately, they didn't quite see which way he had been running. But, perhaps because of his bizarre taste in armor, screams indicated where he was. "He's headed towards the northern exit. If he escapes, the entire world is in danger. He's obviously very skilled in Necromancy," Kratos said as they rushed to stop him.
"How do you know that?" Sylvia panted, trying to keep up with Kratos's superhuman pace.
"The larger a Horror is, the more difficult to create. Also, the armor that he wears, Necrotic Armor, is a creation that can only be made by extremely skilled necromancers," Kratos explained as they reached the clearing just before leaving town. "I've only seen one manage it before."
The four guards stationed at the exit were bravely trying to stop Bios and his undead minions as many villagers watched in stupid amazement. The Horrors were easily holding their own, showing a dexterity that their grotesque appearance and awkward balance belied them. Before their eyes, one of the guards was felled by a single blow from the Horror with the hammer-arm.
"You will go no further," Kratos growled, drawing Bios's attention.
Bios's mouth twisted into a snarl. "Dammit, I didn't want to have to do this. You three, distract them!" he ordered his Horrors, which quickly turned around and lurched towards the group. Everyone reacted quickly, cutting and slashing at the abominations before them.
The guards were then faced by the creator of the monsters that they had been fighting against.
"It'll take too long for you to fully die, so I'm forced to use this technique," Bios said as his right hand began to change. Sickly yellow material rose in a thin line from the base of his finger to the tip, getting no taller than a centimeter. The material kept stretching forward until it went three inches beyond his fingertips. Then a small coating of the material formed itself around the uncovered areas of his fingers. Closer examination revealed that it was actually some form of nails. He lifted his other hand and plunged the now-clawed appendage down, swiftly ripping it up. Bios had torn every finger on his left hand in half lengthwise, causing blood to spew from the injury that would cripple almost any warrior.
But, instead of a cry of pain, a hiss of contentment escaped the elf, as if he enjoyed the agony. Brandishing his injured hand and returning the other to normal, he turned to the horrified guards. "Your bodies are no longer you own," Bios said, swiping at them with his severely wounded hand. Blood splattered over them in a long, wide streak. "They're mine." Bios began to chant hypnotically in the same strange language as before, and the three living guards froze, though this time not in horrid fascination.
As the chant progressed, their bodies began to writhe. All three began to howl in pain, adding their cries to the dying sounds of the Horrors, a bone-chilling mix between a squelch and a cry of pain. Everyone stopped and watched in horror as the guards blew apart, spraying blood across the area. The bystanders finally got it in their heads to run, and run they did, screaming all the way.
Before any body parts or fluids touched the ground, they were sucked into a small whirlwind which only affected the material that was once the three guards. Bone grafted itself and flesh wove around the frame being built. A massive humanoid, standing at nine feet tall, slowly began to take shape. The lower body was completely disproportionate to the upper part, with only enough muscle and bone mass to support itself. The feet were much more like a human's and were made of solid bone. The torso and shoulders were muscled to the point that it was almost ridiculous. Arms as thick as a tree trunk stretched down and became an axe and a long spike at the wrists, both "hands" made of bone. A long neck formed itself from the shoulders, leaning forward and giving the beast a hunchback. The head formed itself into a bone mask, with a frill that made it look like a demon. A horn protruded from the forehead and two empty sockets gazed out from their perch. Below them was a row of razor sharp teeth, though it was missing a lower jaw. Slowly, a sick yellow glow began to emanate from the abyss of its eyes. It looked from side to side before letting out a blood curdling screech.
Bios gazed proudly at his creation as he placed his injured hand on the fourth guard's corpse. "Aid of the Dead," he commanded and the corpse shriveled as a blood red mist flowed from it and into Bios through his maimed appendage. The injuries quickly closed upon themselves and Bios turned to face his pursuers. "I'm afraid we split ways here, Heroes of Regeneration. Remember, you forced me to do this." He then sprinted out of the city while the demonic figure moved to obstruct their path to chase after him.
"What is that thing?" Colette asked.
"Well, this is going to be fun! Let's see what this over-muscled bonehead can do," he said, raising his axe and preparing for battle.
Sylvia put her hand to her forehead. "Sylpher, I'm sorry but that was perhaps the stupidest pun I've ever heard."
"No pun was intended."
"Idle talk during battle against such a dangerous foe is unwise," Presea scolded her children, preparing for the coming fight herself.
"That is one hell of a Horror," Thomas said as he unsheathed the Vorpal Sword.
The creation let out a low growl. "How… dare… you," it rumbled clumsily, surprising everyone in the group.
"It talked?" Colette gasped.
The yellow lights grew narrow. "I… not… Horror… I… Flesh… Golem… "
"He made a Flesh Golem capable of talking? And from living bodies, no less? I don't believe it. Such things shouldn't be possible," Kratos breathed.
The Flesh Golem raised the spike that was its left hand. "…DIE!" it screeched as it drove the spike into the ground. "Necrotic… Forest…"
Kratos's eyes widened. "Everyone, get thirty feet in the air, now!" He commanded as he pulled out his wings and grabbed the two closest people, Sylpher and Sylvia. He jumped into the air and flew up as fast as he could. He could hear the twins' screams and his family quickly following his command, Colette carrying Presea up. She made it just in the nick of time.
Just as she reached the altitude Kratos had told them, massive spikes made of bone up to thirty feet tall shot from the earth. An area of roughly one hundred feet was plastered in the spikes. A few gasps escaped their throats as they saw the bodies of a few unlucky villagers impaled upon them. Many of the corpses were suspended over their own homes, the arte penetrating straight through the buildings. If they had remained on the ground, they would have been doomed.
The spikes receded as quickly as they came and the group landed. The Flesh Golem pulled its arm from the ground and began to walk towards them.
"Ashes to ashes… Detonation!" Sylvia cast. A series of small explosions surrounded the Golem, slightly charring its flesh but doing nothing to slow it down. Colette began to throw her chakrams at the beast, but they bounced off without doing much more than scratch it.
Soon, the creature was upon them, swinging its ax-hand towards Lloyd. He jumped back and was blown away from the force created when the ax impacted the ground. Kratos swore as he tossed his shield aside. It would be of no use in this fight.
The beast towered over Lloyd with its spike pointed at him. Kratos let out a shout as he jumped onto the Golem's back and plunged his sword into the back of its neck. The Flamberge hissed as it burned the skin around it, but it couldn't have gone deeper than an inch.
It was enough to attract the attention of the Golem, which threw him off, letting out a pained roar. It turned and raised its arms. Both limbs morphed into enormous maces, foot long spikes covering every inch. "Impaling… Impact!"
"Heavenly Beast!" Thomas shouted before the Golem could deliver the deadly blow. He charged at his foe and shouldered it in the gut, causing it to recoil slightly, before delivering an upward slash. At the end, he held out an open palm and a glowing effigy of a beast flashed out of it, roaring viciously and sending the Flesh Golem high into the air. The Flesh Golem managed to pull itself back up and its hands returned to their normal shape. Despite the strength of the attack, the creature barely had a scratch on it.
"Damn, I think that hurt me more than it." Thomas said as he tenderly rubbed his shoulder.
"This thing is tough!" Sylpher commented as he hacked at its back before ducking beneath a sweep of the ax-hand.
"I'm going to check if this thing has a weakness," Sylvia said as she whisked out a Magic lens and held it up to her eye. "Name: Flesh Golem; Race: Undead; Strengths: Physical attacks and all forms of magic; Weaknesses: None," she recited as the magic aura of the lens faded. She tossed it aside. Sylpher grabbed her and pulled her out of the way of the Golem's ax as it tried to cut off her head.
"No wonder our attacks are doing next to nothing, it's resistant to them! How are we supposed to kill this thing?" Thomas shouted while avoiding the maces which had reformed.
"Mass Devastation!" Presea called as she brought her ax down heavily on the Golem, creating a large shockwave.
"Chlorine… Breath!" the Flesh Golem hissed without even flinching from the attack. A pale-green gas poured from beneath the half of a mouth and enveloped the pink haired woman. Presea began to cough and desperately tried to get away from the gas.
Colette quickly leapt to her aid and pulled her out as she continued to cough and wheeze, tears pouting from her eyes. The cloud of gas quickly dissipated.
"Mom!" Sylvia and Sylpher shouted at the same time, rushing to see if their mother would be all right.
"Don't get cocky," Kratos snarled as the light of mana emanated from his body, holding the Golem in place. He held his hands out in his usual incantation stance and chains of holy light circled around him, easily cutting the tough hide of the Flesh Golem. "Struggle against these holy chains…" Kratos whispered. His blue wings fluttered open behind him. He opened his eyes and a wave of mana emanated from him again, this time mixed with killing intent. "Shining Bind!" he shouted.
Kratos panted slightly as his mystic arte ended. Extremely powerful, mystic artes required vast amounts of mana; thus they were difficult to master and exhausting to use. Because of this, they were reserved as the last resort of any warrior able to use them.
As Kratos panted and recovered, everyone watched the undead beast closely, not daring to breath. Slowly, the light in the sockets died and the muscles relaxed. It began to rapidly deteriorate into dust. By the time it met the earth, the wind was already scattering its remains.
"Presea!" Lloyd said, rushing to his hurt friend. Kratos and Thomas quickly followed. Kratos, the most experienced in healing artes, knelt to examine the woman.
Presea's coughing had died, but that wasn't a good sign. She wasn't coughing because she was barely breathing. Her entire body shuddered violently as the affects of the arte did their work. "She was probably poisoned from the fumes. Does anyone have a panacea bottle?"
"I've got one! Dad makes me always carry one around, but I never thought I'd actually have to use it," Sylpher said as he hastily pulled out the familiar shape of the only bottle used to store the magical potion. Kratos took it from the boy and uncorked it. He carefully poured the contents into Presea's mouth and waited. Slowly, Presea's breathing returned and her shaking subsided. Everyone sighed a breathe of relief, knowing she would be fine.
"What a monster. To be able to create a creature like that out of living people!"
"And did you see the way he shuddered in pleasure as he cut his fingers open? I thought I would be sick," Colette said queasily.
"What I thought was the oddest was that there seemed to be scars around his arms and fingers, right where his skin turned that ghostly white and where the Necrotic Armor began. Did anyone else see that his fingers were a normal skin tone?" Sylvia asked.
"I did," Sylpher said.
Presea sat up, blearily looking around. "What happened?" She jumped at her feet in alarm and combed the area with her eyes. "Where's the Flesh Golem?" She gasped.
"It faded to dust after it died. Kratos used his mystic arte to kill it. Are you sure you should be moving like that? You just recovered from near-death," Colette told her, concerned.
"I'm perfectly fine now. But what happened to its body?"
"It returned to dust, as all dead things do," Kratos told her. "Now, we need to prepare to give chase to Heretic Bios. He is a very powerful man. Why a necromancer with his abilities would seek the Necrimonicon is beyond me, however."
"I do not know, but what I do know is that that man wasn't an elf. Or even a human for that matter," Presea shuddered.
"What do you mean?" Colette asked.
"When the claws on his hand formed, I saw the skin on his forearms recede from his elbow. It was not easily noticeable, but he had about two centimeters of nothing on his arm but the two bones beneath. And the strangest part is, the arm worked like normal, without any of the tendons or ligaments to hold it together."
Everyone was stunned into silence. Such a thing was… inhuman. Just what was Bios?
"That man… he greatly exceeds the abilities of any necromancer I've ever heard of. It should be impossible to create any undead minion out of a living body, and he did that. Then, he created a minion with enough sentience to be able to talk. And now he changes his own body. He is not a necromancer, he is a demon."
"I have a question," Thomas spoke up for the first time, "How the hell are we supposed to fight someone like that? From what you've said, he's defied the laws of the magic he practices."
"He is not invincible. He seems to favor the Horror class of minions, which is the most powerful, and the one with the most limitations, which gives us an advantage." Kratos answered.
"What do you mean by that?" Colette asked.
"The undead creatures summoned by necromancers consist of various classes. Many classes are well known, while others are obscure and seldom heard of. The more powerful minions are the most obscure, since great skill is needed to create and maintain them. Most of the creatures are made through a sacrifice of blood, proportionate to the class being made, the necromancer's skill, and the necromancer's ability to maintain control over it.
The most common classes of the Necromantic Creations are the following: Skeletons, Ghosts, Zombies, and Mummies. They are four of the weakest and easiest classes to control there are. If you want I can explain them in greater detail later, but they are irrelevant now. There are numerous other classes as well.
"Like I said before, Horrors are the most powerful. As the class rises, the limitations set on the creatures are greater. A Horror will die of its own accord after about two days, though a blood sacrifice from the controlling necromancer will extend this period. The larger a Horror is, the harder to control. They require a body that has been dead for up to one week to create and are extremely efficient in combat. There are also subclasses in the many classes, each of which has its own unique abilities. For the Horror class, however, there are three basic shapes. They are the same except for the weapon, which is a sword, an ax, or a hammer.
"Flesh Golems are an excellent example of a subclass. They are considered an alpha Horror of sorts, since the Horrors seem to follow them readily even when not controlled by a necromancer. They are extremely powerful and can use artes, as we have seen. We even happened to see its mystic arte, the Necrotic Forest. Only the greatest of necromancers can create one and still control it.
"The level of a necromancer's skill is self-explanatory as to the amount of blood needed. The reason blood is needed, however, is to act as a catalyst for the necromancer's controlling ability.
"The amount of control necessary increases with the class as well as with the number of undead that the necromancer already has under his control and the subclass that is being made. It is vital that the necromancer be able to maintain control, or else his own creations could go berserk and kill him. Despite popular belief, they do not need the necromancer to survive, unless they are of the most elite classes. Those classes will die eventually on their own, but will still kill the necromancer. The amount of blood used increases the level of control in a ratio known only to necromancers, since it is affected by the previous two factors.
"Now, in necromancy, there are some unbreakable rules. One of them is that a living body cannot be used to make anything, nor can it be used if the body is too freshly dead. Also, the necromancer cannot be undead in any form himself or his attempts at the creation of his minions are void. And the last one is that no necromancer, no matter how skilled and how great his control is, can create a creature with any level of sentience.
"Those are only three of the laws that Bios broke this afternoon. And, I fear, he has more plans and schemes. With his level of skill in necromancy, there is always an ulterior motive for every kind action," Kratos finished his long explanation of the basics of necromancy. Everyone sat transfixed by what Kratos had told them.
"Now I have another question. Can you explain how you know all of this?" Thomas said, suspicious, "Someone with such intimate knowledge of necromancy is a rather odd thing, don't you think? How do we know that you aren't in league with him somehow?"
"Thomas!" Colette gasped, shocked by her son's accusation. "You shouldn't say such cruel things. You don't know him that well. He isn't the type of person who would do that kind of magic."
"I'm just voicing everyone's thoughts, Mom. I'm sure you also thought that he would never betray your group. I'm sure Mithos thought that he would never betray him! His history doesn't allow him the luxury of being trusted in my eyes, even if he did help you all in the end," Thomas practically yelled. He glared fiercely at Kratos. "Explain yourself, now!"
Kratos looked his grandson in the eye, not wavering before the fierce gaze. "I understand your position. I would assume that everyone, even Lloyd, was asking themselves how I knew so much about necromancy. Such discernment and boldness is a good trait for you to have. You would have done very well in the Kharlan War," Kratos told him. The look in Thomas's eyes was all that was necessary for anyone to hear his voice shouting "get on with it!"
"As for how I know this much, I can accredit that to the man who trained me long ago. He was a very wise, and rather aggravating, elf that was unparalleled in many areas. In the days of the Kharlan War, the few necromancers there were could be bought as mercenaries for outrageously high prices, since they could create armies of their own. As a result, my master taught me much about them and their magic, since an undereducated soldier is a dead soldier. His training was very thorough. He told me just before I left my apprenticeship with him that I knew even more than some necromancers who had practiced the art for about five years.
"And as for my defense in the accusation of siding with him: necromancers have a very notorious history of being double crossers. They would set up contracts with both warring factions and send their own armies out to wreak havoc on both countries. As a result, I have never trusted someone who practices the art on any level," Kratos explained.
Thomas nodded. "All right, I'll accept that."
"Phew. I thought for sure Thomas was going to attack him. That's a look that he usually gives when he's really angry," Sylpher sighed in relief.
"At least it wasn't like when he gave that look while smiling at the same time. I could've sworn the guy that received that wet himself," Sylvia added.
"Well, we're all tired, so I think we should rest for tonight, since we are definitely tired after that fight. The day after tomorrow, we start going to Palmacosta," Lloyd said. Everyone agreed with that.
Bios slowed as he panted for breath. Creating an undead minion – and a Flesh Golem at that – out of living bodies was extremely taxing. It required vast amounts of blood and it nearly exhausted himto the point of passing out.
He sighed as he pulled the skull off of his head and shook his hair loose. Sweat sprayed the area around him. It got hot in that armor. He allowed the rest of it to crumble, but let the skull remain while he turned it in his hands.
"Well, without my book, my newest apprentice is going to have a tough time becoming a truly great necromancer. She is extremely talented, but that book explains secrets that one could find out after many years of experience, if they were lucky enough to survive the ordeal to obtain them. I guess I'll just have to write another one," He sighed, talking to no one in particular.
He remembered the man that had quite nearly made him use some of the curses and hexes from his vast repertoire. The snarl returned to his face as he crushed the skull in his hands. "That man made a mockery of my armies before. Of course, he hadn't been alone then, but still. How I want to slowly peel the flesh from his arms and legs, then break his bones one by one, enjoying his screams all the while. Then, I think I'll turn him into a skeleton." Bios smiled sadistically at that thought as he continued to his destination.
"I've wanted to do that for so long. You may not have recognized me, Kratos Aurion, though I had thought the armor would be a dead giveaway. But know this: the Legionnaire doesn't forget the grievances his foes have made against him, and neither does he forgive them."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
(evil giggling) I'm in anticipation of the next chapter.
Sylpher: Seriously, necromancy?
That's just the start. You'll love it when his faction is introduced, along with his apprentice, which may or may not be for awhile. I'm conflicted on her appearance in the plot. Oh, and when I bring in other classes and subclasses of the undead.
Sylpher: by the way, good job coming up with Horrors. All the other crap is so clichéd.
Well, I had some help with them. They are very loosely based on Horrors from the MMORPG game called Guild Wars. The Flesh Golem is a lot more similar, though he got changes as well.
Now, to my dear readers. I AM SO SORRY! PLEASE DON'T COVER ME WITH LEECHES AND THEN DISSECT ME ALIVE WHILE CHEWING ON MY BRAIN!
Sylpher: … just pretend you don't know him. Don't comment. Don't look at him. Don't even acknowledge his existence.
I heard that.
Sylpher: …
… Anyway, as I was saying. I'M SO SORRY ABOUT THE LATE UPDATE! I'M SO WORTHLESS! I'd let you kill me in any way you saw fit (not including the one mentioned above. It sounds rather painful), but then I couldn't finish the story. At least I slightly made up for it by making this chapter a personal record of nearly 10,500 words. That's quite an achievement for me!
And once more, I'M SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE!
Sylpher: … So I guess review if you want. Please end the chapter now. I think he finally snapped.
No I didn't. I just broke off what was left.
