Magelight 3.9

Fights were about information first, positioning second, action third.

Without information, people couldn't know where they needed to be. If they weren't in the right place at the right time, they couldn't act.

D'Ario was hidden somewhere among the second floor of the chamber, controlling the zombies somehow. Magic most likely. His energy drain ability was a risk to my defenses. This was his act, his play, with the limited information he had on me.

The legion of the dead launched themselves at me like a rising wave, some of them leaping and crawling over others as they screamed and wailed incoherently. Here and there, bodies were shoved aside randomly, the corpses who had been fully rendered invisible clawing their way to me. Others hadn't gotten the full benefit, leaving their rotted skin transparent and their dried brains or intestines exposed for all to see. It was worse for the recently dead, where the meat and muscles still had enough color in them to give the appearance of a man or woman flayed alive, rather than a mere zombie.

I could have met their charge head on, driving through them like a scythe through wheat, unleashing the black boiling pressure within me in every direction till I was left spent and too tired to feel horror at what been done to these innocent people. It would be cathartic.

But I wasn't stupid. Positioning was second for a damn good reason.

The tide of dead charged at me and I retreated back through the tunnel entrance. Flying backwards, I brought up my arms and tore through the stone walls on both sides of me, my eyes never losing track of the stampede. If they cared about the clouds of dust hiding me from sight they didn't show it, their glowing and unblinking eyes penetrating the clouds like a swarm of rabid fire flies on a foggy morning.

I flared my aura, max output, testing the waters of what I could expect to be effective. The cacophony of screams, the pounding of feet, and shuffle of papery skin fed into itself as I exited into the previous chamber.

Impossible to tell for sure, but I didn't get the impression that my aura had done much at all. Vampires, ghosts, and zombies all seemed to have different reactions despite all being 'undead'.

Option B then. I flew to a halt, keeping still within the catacomb. A slightly smaller chamber than the one I had flown into, empty beds of stone lining the walls all around me, a pillar to my back that reached to the top of the ceiling.

It would have to do for a battleground.

The horde was struggling to make headway, much like I'd hoped. Some of them had to have been crushed in trying to merge into the tunnel. It wasn't even large enough for me to unfurl the full size of the Fragile One, let alone nearly a hundred sprinting zombies. Seeing the growing number of eyes illuminating the passage and the increasing amount of screaming, I didn't count on it as being an effective deterrent.

Which was fine by me. I had gotten what I wanted anyways.

Ammunition exchanged hands, portioning out an even amount for every limb that I had. I was utterly still as my fragile friends prepared herself, letting that black emotion run it's course through my veins. My fists were clenched, fingernails digging into skin, with the exception of one finger. The pain from that lack of nail being pressed into flesh wasn't the clarifying or numbing sort. It was just another reminder of how awful people could be.

Glowing eyes met my own. I imagined Fragile One meeting the other pairs as well, for solidarity.

Now.

The first zombie hadn't taken a full step out of the tunnel passage before a hand flung out, the crack of air cutting through the moans and groans of the horde. Hardly the only thing it cut through; the projectiles left holes in the dusty air where they had passed, and the closest Zombie might was well have exploded from the sheer force of impact. All around him, glowing eyes went dim as corpses were cut down to size or thrown violently back into the masses.

An untold number taken down, but the charge wasn't stopping. Not really surprised that zombies wouldn't have self-preservation.

Hollywood movies liked to perpetuate the idea of people shielding others with their bodies from bullets, taking the blow as a sacrifice so their loved ones can go save the day or to redeem themselves. I used to fantasize about it as a kid, going out in a blaze of glory and taking that bullet for my sister, giving her a passionate speech that would inspire her to kickass and take names.

Reality was far more cruel. Bullets really did not give a flying fuck about the power of love, because unless it hit bone and didn't ricochet into the person beneath you, then flesh made for a piss-poor shield.

Another toss of rubble like a shotgun, rubble slicing through the bodies with barely any noticeable resistance, some of the shots mowing through multiple zombies before striking the stone walls and causing even more shrapnel to explode all around them.

Another.

A spin of the forcefield for a bit of added momentum to unleash two more handfuls, the devastation that followed almost deafening the moans as more and more bodies fell in my makeshift killing field.

Scary to think this had been an idle thought of mine once upon a time. Contemplating whether I could take out a getaway car's wheels with a penny and being too nervous to test it in action, maybe subconsciously connecting it to the idea of guns. Now here I was, mowing down a legion of undead and the fear wasn't in hurting someone anymore.

The fear was how easy it was to use and abuse as a tactic.

I'd used up my handfuls and killed so many zombies that I wouldn't be surprised if the tunnel was completely clogged with bodies, but I could still hear them coming. If I listened hard enough to cacophony of moans and groans, I could almost imagine hearing words in all of the nonsense.

It took long seconds before I could see the next wave of glowing eyes in the blanket of dust, the shuffling and cracking of bones as the wall of dead was shoved aside bringing to mind imagery of my mom all those weeks ago. It didn't help with the black boil in the slightest.

Forcefield hands dug into the stone floors, readying to scoop up more ammunition.

"Fus Ro Dah!"

My eyes widened in recognition, a second too late to understand the danger.

The bodies had been piled up and further clogged up the tunnel by the incoming troops of dead. In many ways, it was similar to a shotgun in principle; a sufficient enough force to launch a wide spread of projectiles with a lot of punch.

In this case, the sufficient force was powerful enough to destroy meteors.

It was impossible to tell where one body started and one body ended, so many having been torn apart by my attack and further shredded by the thu'um. All I saw was a wall of undead flesh hit me like a freight train, my forcefield nearly outlined against decaying flesh as the wave of energy coursed over the both of us.

That was the straw that broke the camels back, the forcefield failing and leaving me exposed to a rain of corpses I couldn't hope to avoid. Flying side to side in evasion gave me a second before someone or a part of someone landed on my back, hard, sending a sharp shooting pain through my shoulder and back.

No one said anything about vampires or zombies being able to use Shouts!

More bodies followed, burying me with dull thuds as I struggled to push my way free, my torch having been lost in the chaos. My forcefield came back and I began hurling bodies out of my way, forcing an opening for me to escape from the hill of the dead.

My torch was there, still lit and mostly undamaged barring a few cracks.

Something else was there as well, a heavy blow to the neck of my forcefield that had pop, revealing a recoiling draugr appearing beside me.

Or rather, had always been there.

Flight to give me the push I needed as I lunged for the torch, just as the rotten hand swiped for me again, hitting only air. I spun in place, keeping my center of gravity low, and swung out. The lit head of the torch met bared skull of the zombie, and my hands ached at the impact as the torch bounced back, like I had tried to swing a baseball bat at a brick wall.

Much like the vampire, the zombie burst into flame on contact, but there was no dramatic flailing as it's leftover skin became engulfed. Only the twitch of it's head from the blow, before turning it's burning gaze back to me, it's form getting to it's feet with determination.

Fuck.

I moved to fly up, to get myself distance until my forcefield recharged, only for a blast of cold to strike at my back. One of the zombie came into existence, the invisible magic falling off of it in a flash of light as I it continued it's onslaught. I fell into a tailspin, my momentum interrupted and redirected to a corner of the wall, knocking over pottery in the aftermath.

I felt the ceramic shards digging into my armor while I tried to push myself out of the attack's way, but they had a solid bead on me and weren't intent on letting up the pressure.

It was like I had taken a clip of Byron's water blasts but focused entirely on my back, which went from numbing the aches and bruises straight into being bone-chilling despite the armor and coat I wore. I could feel my breathing get tighter as the attack continued, every breath like my lungs were in a vice.

No one told me zombies could use magic!

Fight or flight Victoria, but don't literally fucking freeze!

I planted both feet on the chamber walls and pushed out with muscle and flight, arms covering my exposed face as I charged into the beam of frost, screaming with exertion.

In a second I was out of the beams path, knee raised up just in time to introduce it to the zombie's sternum as I rammed into them at close to thirty miles per hour. There was no look or gasp of surprise in it's expression, just the feeling of bone cracking underneath my knee and a deep, shaking pain that ran up my side from the blow.

I didn't stop my momentum, increasing the output of flight at my back to launch myself and the zombie further through the chamber, it's heels dragging as I carried it across the room and into another lumbering undead. The collision wasn't quite as dramatic as I'd hoped, only sending the second zombie stumbling back, but a follow up jab of the torch set them both alight.

I flew back before the flames could lick me as well, but the forward zombie was able to get in a glancing blow, a hook to my ribs that took the air out my lungs and sent me skidding to the floor. Both zombies untangled themselves from each other, still burning, and made their way over to me.

The torch I had dropped in their path was crushed under foot.

They didn't think to put out the flames with the frost attack, or maybe they lacked the ability. Whatever internal battery they used had apparently run out.

This wasn't like my fight against the Fallen, where I had thrown myself into the jumble of opponents in a relatively controlled manner, and had maintained that control even with the loose use of the Fragile One. Those had been human opponents, people who could feel fear, via aura or having their limbs crushed with a single blow.

These zombies, the Draugr as D'Ario called them, they didn't feel fear. They didn't stop because I set them on fire and broke their ribs, and they didn't falter at the sight of me mowing down dozens of their allies with supersonic projectiles. It put me in mind of that OJ Simpson film, the mechanical assassin that was undeterred by human weapons.

That was fine. I had someone a bit more exotic on my side.

I felt her unfold into place as the closest draugr took another swipe at me. I caught his flaming claw by the wrist. The other hand came around, and I did the same to that one.

My turn.

I spun the forcefield around me, whipping the draugr around like a burning rag, three revolutions before I let him loose on his compatriots. The draugr flew across the chamber, spearing through it's burning brother and hitting a pack of them like an explosive meteor.

A shuffle of feet behind me was all the warning I needed fly up in a semi-flip, invisible hands catching a duo of draugr in mid-leap. In a fluid motion I slammed the two of them together, crushing them into one, and flung them back into the still recovering horde. More bodies tumbled through the air on impact, the lights of their eyes going dim.

I floated above them all, taking in the scene.

I'd reduced the draugr numbers by more than half, a small group of thirty at that, and those that remained were heavily injured from the Shout or from my various projectile attacks. Not the most threatening of opponents I'd faced, but I still had no idea which one could use the Shout.

One draugr was still carrying a bow, working to aim it at me. I flew out of his way as he let loose, not willing to leave myself vulnerable on the off chance of not catching it.

The arrow embedded itself into the stone, much to my surprise.

"Don't think you can stay safe up there Dragonborn!" D'Ario's voice echoed from somewhere inside the chamber. "Arrows are the least of your problems!"

I scowled, aura blasting, looking for any sign or hint of his location. There was always the chance that taking out D'Ario meant ending his control over the undead army at his command.

There wasn't much leeway in terms of hints. None of the dead reacted to my aura and it didn't seem to have any effect on the invisibility spell.

One of the draugr caught my eye. Slightly taller than the others, that subtle height difference was accentuated by it's prominent horned helmet, each horn nearly as long as my forearm. Other draugr's seemed to almost instinctively give it room, and I understood why when one mill civilian watching me didn't move out of it's way. The horned-draugr cut down the civilian almost casually, stomping through the ash remains without pause.

I had a gut feeling I had found the Shouter.

A gut feeling that soon became reality when the horned-draugr turned it's attention to me and opened its mouth wide, "Fus Ro Dah!"

The same unrelenting force that I'd seen come from Ulfric blasted from the undead's throat, and I dived to put myself out it's path. It wasn't as fast as sound should have been, but much like Love Lost's scream it had an expanding cone the further it traveled.

And a hell of an impact as it hit the chamber walls, diffusing into the stone like a wave crashing onto shore, carrying with it a wall of air as it dissipated. No damage was done to the walls, but the strength of the blast was enough that I had to fight to keep my flight stable or risk being thrown through the chamber like a pinball.

How the hell does this work? Something like Valkyrie, creating a vessel for magic or shouting?

I had barely recovered from the first blow when it launched another, forcing me to dive closer to the ground to avoid a direct hit, this dive awkwardly assisted by the blowback of air.

The Fragile One caught a wayward arrow, snapping it in half.

I reached out to a nearby shelf, getting handholds for return fire as the horned draugr tracked me through the crowd-

My forcefield was outlined in red, multiple heads and limbs revealed to the chamber of the dead, and I felt that twinge of drain in my powers. D'Ario was above me, hanging loosely onto one of the stone bed slats, eyes as red as his magic.

"Fus Ro Dah!"

I abandoned the shelf, flying up to D'Ario's perch.

Too late, as I saw how the Shout was angled to intersect my route. It predicted me, I thought belatedly, diving myself as hard and fast as I could to get out of range.

Or minimize the hurt.

The edge of the Fragile One was clipped, straining for shockingly short few seconds before popping, leaving me defenseless as the wall of air carried me like a wave and slammed me into the ground. My dive down had exacerbated the push, and the impact left my entire body rolling with a deep aching pain as the pressure washed over me.

My senses were jarred, vision blurry from tears and nausea, and my ears where ringing just as badly.

I rose shakily to my feet, ninety-percent the work of my flight rather than any inner strength that I could find. I felt similar to how I did when Crested had been total moron and tried to block Thud's punch, my sense of balance thrown out the window.

"-uramil! An alchemist so renowned, even the Dragons of ancient times respected his knowledge! His power, as you can see, is nothing to scoff at either!"

I shook my head and immediately regretted it, feeling an almost paralyzing sensation of nausea. Not as bad as being hit by Oberon, but it was in the top twenty for sure.

I was slow enough at recovering that I didn't feel the hand on my shoulder until it was pulling me back, flinging me into a nearby wall, fucking up my back again. I tried to twist out of the grip, only to find the hold on my shoulder to be rock solid, barely budging an inch as I pushed out with flight.

Uramil stared down at me, glowing eyes so close that I could see how they weren't eyeballs so much as orbs of light in the recesses of the skull, so uncaring and devoid of life that I couldn't imagine how they operated.

It was almost too late when I noticed the swing of his sword, intent on splitting me in two down the middle. I brought my arm up just as the sword was brought down, forcefield unfolding around me protectively. Blade met field with ringing sound that sent the sword flying out of his grip, broken in two and taking a hand with it.

Any relief was short lived as Uramil dragged me from wall to floor, scraping the back of my armor and hood to hell as he slammed me down viciously.

Fuck you!

I pushed up with flight, yelling with all my might to carry him with me to take him off balance. He slammed me down again, my flight offering only a brief respite in the middle of the loss of equilibrium.

Fuuuck you!

The draugr brought me up and close, almost nose to nose as I felt the thu'um build up within his center. He seemed intent on a third shout to finish the job, rather than beat me into a pulp.

"Fu-"

"Fuck you!" I yelled, jabbing my fist into his open mouth. It was somehow moist and dry at the same time, a combination I never wanted to think was possible. I didn't think he had a gag reflex at any rate, but I was willing to do anything to stall his attack. I felt him begin bite down on my forearm hard enough that it was clear he would try to rip it in half.

He might have succeeded, had my forcefield not recharged, invulnerable energy expanding around the limb and forcing his mouth open even wider. I gripped his arm with my free hand and rended it to pieces with a simple squeeze, disarming him completely.

"Fuck you," I repeated and let my forcefield expand inside of him. An old move used on Bitter Pill's mutant dogs, but on an opponent not even half as durable. The result was something like an egg in a microwave; a sudden uneven bulging, followed by a large pop and crack, ending in a sloppy mess exploding everywhere.

Small mercies that the worst of it slid off my forcefield this time. I didn't need that strong a reminder of the Leper on my conscience.

Footsteps behind me caught my attention. I spun around in flight, lashing out with the closest available limbs. Five corpses impaled themselves onto my forcefield; four draugr going limp almost immediately, while one of the mill undead reached out towards me.

It's hand found only a facsimile of my face, squeezing in the vain hopes of doing damage.

It's eyes locked on to mine.

And for a moment for there was life.

"Thank... you."

I stared in wide-eyed horror as his body dissolved into ash in my fragile hand. There was no heat, no release of energy that marked his passing. There was only the last whisper of thanks and the horrific reality of the situation.

No.

No no no nonono-

They surrounded me now, a mix of draugr and revived citizens, the invisibility spell having waned off the rest of them entirely. Less than dozen in all and the draugr archer was out of arrows.

The moans and groans took on an entirely new meaning now.

How many of you are suffering like this? How aware are you? And for how long?

Is this what it's like for you Mirmulnir? Is this what I did to you?

I flew to my feet, facing them head on. They came at me with axes, swords, and their bare fists. Forced into a fight with no control of their actions or of their very lives.

I met their charge with my own, the Fragile One dancing around me, and the horror blended time for me. One body being torn in half was followed by a head ripped from it's shoulders. Punches and kicks that could shatter boulders and tear steel crushed bones in my way. Ash fell to the floor, the rest going deathly silent and still as the light of their souls vanished.

In a moment or two, I was standing alone, surrounded by the freed and the dead. All accounted for... except for one.

The black was brimming under my skin.

It might have been nothing. The creak of old stones, the whisper of the chill wind, maybe something entirely in my head. I acted on it nonetheless, blasting my aura and having Fragile One lash out with pebbles all around me.

D'Ario's shouted in pain from behind me.

He was bleeding from a cut to his shoulder, a small dagger in hand. He hissed when he saw that he had my attention, expression caught between hate and fear.

I could only imagine the look on my face that made him commit completely to fear.

"Stay! Stay back Dragonborn," He held the dagger out protectively, as if it could shield him from me. "Don't come any closer, or you'll never find the rest of them! I'll tell you-"

I planted my feet on the floor and began to walk his way.

"I'll tell you where they are hidden, but you must promise me safe passage! Allow me to abandon this cursed crypt!"

I kept my eyes on him, unblinking. My fists were clenched so tight I wondered if blood would be spilling.

"W-We'll never see each other again! I will live my life away from civilization if I have too! But if you come closer you'll never find those humans! Those are my conditions!"

I didn't answer, focusing on making sure the Fragile One was as still as possible as I approached the vampire.

I was at arms length when he made his decision, screeching and lashing out with the dagger. An invisible hand slapped it away, eliciting a blood curdling scream from the vampire as he held his broken fingers in his other hand.

Forcefield down, I threw a straight punch into his fucking face. His nose was crushed under my knuckles, blood exploding from each nostril, sending him staggering back.

He shook his head, eyes blinking in surprise.

"What-"

I flew fast and hard, driving an elbow right across his cheek. The vampire swore and tried to swipe at me with claws, only for my forcefield to deflect the attack with a slap of it's own. While he was reeling in pain, I whipped around with a backhand, slamming across his other cheekbone with all my unpowered might.

He howled, in anger, confusion, and fear. A kick of his held at bay by an invisible foot and I followed up with an uppercut that made his teeth clack together on impact.

He spat out blood and one tooth. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

Another claw deflected, earning him a spinning roundhouse kick to the jaw. He scrambled for a weapon, the Fragile One snapped the closest axe in half, and I delivered another straight punch to the mouth. I could feel the imprint of his fangs through my glove.

He tried to retaliate, she blocked and I followed up with a jab to his face.

He tried to block and weave, she held his arms apart for the brief moment to allow a right hook to rock his head to the side.

He tried to duck and flee, I burst into his jawline with a literal flying knee.

For every attack of his, I followed up with a strike to his mouth and face.

For every attempt at summoning magic, I followed up with a strike to his mouth and face.

For every attempt at escape, I followed up with a strike to his mouth and face.

Every strike, every blow, all of it was infused with my aura at max power. Every bit of skin contact, however brief, maximized that feeling of stark terror he would be feeling as I rained hell on him. Transferring that black boil into his own being.

The vampire fell to his knees, head held low and hands held up pleadingly. I paused mid punch, my gloves so drenched in blood that I could feel it soaking past the material and coating my skin.

"Ah'm sowry," the vampire- D'Ario muttered, pronunciation mangled. He spat out out a handful of blood and piece of teeth.

I waited.

"Ah suwrender. Ah'm done. Vey are under the tablet, a hidden lwever to open up ve stone door in ve alchemy shop. Jus' stop, pwlease."

I lowered my fist, raised my forcefield, and lifted him by the collar.

"No more-"

I brought him close and screamed. Every bit of that black boiling emotion that couldn't be expressed by the aura or by punching this monster over and over again, all of it unleased in that mindless scream in his face. Because the horror of what he did to these people needed to be expressed somehow.

What he made me do to free them.

I couldn't kill him. I wanted to, so desperately wanted to, but I knew that I would hate myself for it. This? Making him regret all the murder, the torture of their souls, of making me have to face this existential nightmare?

I thought it fell right up the line to the seventy percent of hurt he put on me.

I stopped screaming when he began to weep. My throat hurt, my head was ringing, and my vision blurry from tears of my own. I gathered pieces of leather from the draugr armor and some old chains lying around, wrapping them around him as makeshift constraints.

I flew through the chambers, above the hundred dead, and under the the chanting Word Wall. It wasn't important right now. Not even fucking close.

The alchemy chamber wasn't far down the tunnel, a small room with an ancient ornate bowl at it's center. I glanced his way and D'Ario shakily pointed, "Ve bowl needs to be filled. Opens ve wall."

I don't have time for this.

I dropped D'Ario like a sack of potatoes before slamming every limb of my forcefield against the wall. Stone crumbled like paper, revealing another short corridor leading to another stone wall.

I could hear it now. Panicked whispering, leaking out from where the seal was built imperfectly or fell apart over god knows how many centuries.

I paused for a moment, going to wipe my tears, before remembering the amount of blood on my hands. I was frozen for a moment, thoughts at a halt at my inability to fix my appearance, before a fragile finger softly wiped away the water for me. I felt minor adjustments all around me; dust brushed off of my costume, my hood fixed into place, and my hair brushed aside and out of my face.

I took a deep breath, feeling all the pieces come together.

Thank you.

Slowly, gently, I had the Fragile One work at weakening the stone doorway, chipping away at the edges with invulnerable fingers. Delicate work, so as to not scare the inhabitants, but the Fragile One had learned enough on that front.

In a minute, the door was pulled away and broken in half by my forcefield, the remains piled up on the side so as to not block the exit. I floated through and found workshop turned prison. Tables and bookshelves dedicated to books, ingredients in cups, and chemical tubes on side.

On the other, men, women, and a few children chained up to the walls.

This is what it's about. This is what I'm about.

I spoke softly but with confidence, "I'm Antares, and I'm here to save you. Let's get you all home."