Chapter 15
"Why do we have to deal with this crap?"
When the commander go to talk with the strange knight and the village chief, he did not forget to give orders to his men as well. There were a lot of dead bodies on the small square in the center of the village. Something had to be done with them. With the bodies of the villagers everything is clear - tomorrow they will be reprieved according to all the rules and buried like honest people in the local cemetery. The farewell before the burial should take place in the square, it is a tradition.
That was not the case with the Imperials. They came to a foreign land and ran rampant like bandits. There was no one to say goodbye to them. Decent burial was out of the question. Of course, they too would be purged before burial, the influence of the cursed plains cannot be discounted. Who would want to wait for a visit of the undead? But they will be buried to the ground, in a common pit, away from the village walls. The peasants have already dug the pit and should be done by midnight.
Gazef instructed his men to haul the mutilated corpses to a future mass grave. And for the second hour, the brave warriors worked hard, throwing the remains of the fallen imperials into the cart. There were a total of two carts in the village suitable for such work. While one load, the second takes the grim load behind the walls, to the pit, and so on in a circle. The work would not be very hard if they were ordinary bodies. Forty-something people, three or four moves. But with the massacre, the stranger swordswoman left behind...
Gazef's warriors were not particularly impressed. Their commander had done something similar before during raids on bandit rookeries. The peasants, who used to haul it all down to the center at the swordswoman's behest, were another matter. Not surprisingly, everyone capable of labor volunteered to dig, away from the ghastly reminder of what had happened.
"Quit your whining, you bore me," replied Vatus irritably to his companion, Irius, rinsing his bloody hands in the bucket by the wall. Something was sticking to them, and it was interfering with his work. "Years of blood and shit, and you still whine like a kid."
"Fuck off, buddy." Vatas took hold of the arm sticking out of the pile and pulled the corpse, which was already beginning to ossify. "I'd understand if there was no one else, but there's a village full of peasants. And we're at the end of the line again."
A throw and a third of the human torso slammed into the cart.
"Yeah, yeah. The world is a terrible place."
"But seriously, the peasants could have been used!"
"And who's going to dig? And you know, those poor souls went through a lot. First, the Imperials did a real massacre here, and then that chick made them pick up the pieces of bodies all over the village. We've seen worse, but what's it like for them?"
"I don't give a fuck. I'm imagining myself in a bathhouse with a cute little peasant girl. And you know what? It looks like I can only dream about it today."
"There's a lot of quiet places here, you can dream later. Don't worry, after this round, we'll have to go to the guard... Wait a minute."
A warning whistle sounded in the distance. The two warriors abandoned their activities and hurried to the street leading to the gate.
A crowd of local survivors with shovels quickly entered the half-opened gate. The workers quickly scattered to their homes. Following them, the warriors who had guarded the work came through the gate. They were focused and anxious.
"I just knew it," Igo grumbled angrily, and went back to the water barrel.
"Yeah," Vatas answered vaguely, adjusting his weapon belt, and headed toward the sentries. "Something serious, and they left the horse and cart outside."
The rest of the warriors were already gathering in the square, having abandoned their assignments.
The headman's house was cozy, even though a few hours ago the place had been crowded. The only damage was to the crockery, and the half-empty shelves were conspicuous. But by the time Gazef, accompanied by the swordswoman and the headman himself, got in, the house was cleaned up. The floor had been swept and wiped with a damp cloth, the furniture had been set up, and pots of soup and boiling water for herbal concoction were bubbling on the heated stove.
Throughout the conversation, the headman did not sit down, and stood near the table, half bowed. His wife only served plates and cups silently, trying not to be seen at all.
Gazef himself came from a peasant family. Even after his rise to prominence as His Majesty's private man, he had not forgotten his roots. Whenever he had a few free days, he visited houses like this all over the kingdom. Sometimes on duty as well. Listening to the common people, when they are not afraid to speak, and relaying their words to their suzerain is also an important part of serving the crown.
And such behavior, as the headman showed, would have been understandable if the lord feudal lord had come here. But Gazef was not a feudal lord, but a well-known hero who, if not personally known, was certainly heard of. He was not accustomed to being feared by the common people.
As he asked the headman about the events, he noticed the way he looked at his guest. Sneakily, immediately averts his eyes, bowing at every opportunity. The headman, answering his questions, chose his words very carefully and often clenched his hands so that he could not see them trembling. He was obviously very afraid of this woman.
And she didn't care about anything. With the polite, weary indulgence, she sprawled back in her chair, picking at the soup with a wooden spoon without appetite. She paid no attention at all to what was going on around her, thinking about something of her own. Gazef couldn't help but notice that the woman who called herself Draga was surprisingly good-looking. A fine, sturdy figure, without any unhealthy thinness or excessive muscles. Agile, smooth, precise movements. Face, very pretty even without makeup. Not the first youth, but young, not even 25.
He even remembered for some reason that at almost forty he was not yet married.
Perhaps this is a case where women are asked out on a date? She's not one of those elegant ladies His Majesty has asked me to marry. She's sure of herself, knows the beauty of the sword and the ugliness of death, and doesn't turn her nose up at poverty, though she's obviously rich. Only how to approach such a case...
With some effort, he pulled himself away from irrelevant thoughts. The first thing to do was to get a better understanding of who she really was. Yes, she has the badge of an adventurer, but there was no way an adventurer of such power could remain unknown until now.
The headman confirmed her version of what had happened. The imperial scum was already about to set fire to the house. full of women and children, and then execute the men cursing their helplessness. And at the last moment, a rider on a stallion as black as night appeared. Without engaging in pointless negotiations, she simply killed all the imperial mercenaries who were in the square. And then methodically slaughtered everyone lucky enough not to be in the center. Although, how to say lucky. Those who were assigned the role of executioners died quickly.
The mercenary commander, the only survivor among them, was of little use. Gazef interrogated him right after the headman. The older, gray-haired man, kneeling with his hands tied, answered all his questions briefly and at once, staring dumbly at the floor. But he didn't know as much as Gazef wanted him to know. A mercenary, a landless knight from the Baharut Empire. Hired by an unknown person for a quick punitive raid on villages near E-Rantel. He did not know who the hirer was, only the money was important.
Listening to the mercenary, Gasef really wanted to strangle the bastard with his own hands right there. The only thing that kept him from doing that was to leave it to the executioner. An experienced master torturer would surely be able to squeeze out something more important. And the execution would have to be public, so people would know that retribution had taken place. There was also something else that troubled him.
Something was wrong. Someone had provided the imperials with a detailed road map and the exact route. And also - the mercenary knew exactly in this village they had to linger. How he was so sure - the mercenary did not remember, and a cup of embers behind the chest did not help to remember. From his experience, Gazef knew that problems with the memory of the doers always pointed to problems with those who paid. And those who were paying had not yet shown themselves in any way.
His thinking was interrupted by a rude, quick knock on the door and a lieutenant who immediately burst in
"My Captain, the village is surrounded by an unknown enemy!"
"Sir Nigun, the summoners of the Solar Scriptures are in position, the phantoms are summoned!"
Sir Nigun gave a brief nod to his assistant.
"Have you been spotted?"
"Yes, sir. The alarm is sounded and the enemy is on alert."
"Very good. Tell the summoners, the first wave of phantoms into battle. The goal is maximum damage, do not take care of yourself. Have them ready to summon the second wave at once."
"Yes!" the assistant spurred his horse, galloping off to carry out the order.
Sir Nigun once more checked his equipment. He was very proud of the fact that the Council had entrusted him with the ancient relics of the Church. They had once belonged to the same deified Heroes who founded the state that would later become the Theocracy.
Artifacts of unimaginable power that left the Arsenal only for great deeds. The Aegis of Justice, the Chainmail of the Celestial Guardian, the Diadem of Iron Will, and, finally, the absolute weapon, which was only to be used in exceptional cases. A crystal with a sealed summoning spell of a High Angel. And something else, too, which Sir Nygan tried not to think about. The latter was to be used only if the operation had failed.
Each of these items had a rich, glorious history and endowed the bearer with great power. This operation was bound to succeed. The Council of Six put in not only ancient artifacts but many other relics that could only be used once. It is impossible to replenish their supply. Scrolls [of concealment], for example, no more than a dozen remain. The Otherworld Potions that the ancient heroes brought with them are slightly more. The crystal, carefully guarded by Nigun, was the only one of its type.
Sir Nigun prayed briefly, broke the seal of the crystal vial, and drank its contents, carefully memorizing every moment, every nuance of taste. Not in every generation would there be one to whom such an honor would be bestowed. His body swiftly poured with a heavy and confident power beyond the reach of mere mortals.
He stepped forward, leaving the undergrowth. The [concealment] spell had just begun to fade. Now another scroll.
Gazef kicked open the second-floor balcony door, jumped out, and glanced around.
The village was indeed surrounded. In a sparse chain, at twice the distance of an arrow, stood men in chainmail, cloaks unmarked and helmets concealed. Worst of all, looming over them were tall figures of angels in fancy armor, with spears and shields. Their snow-white wings fluttered in the wind.
"Here's the answer to the memory lapse. Bloody magic!" Gazef growled in anger.
Watching the angels drifting slowly toward the palisade, he quickly calculated his battle options. The phantoms floated through the air in an evenly compressed ring. Fences are no barrier to them. Their armament is for close-quarters combat, so they can't attack from the air. The most advantageous tactic is to impose combat in conditions where their mobility becomes irrelevant.
"Lieutenant!"
"Yes, Captain?" Lieutenant appeared from the door.
"Are the residents in shelters?"
"Yes, Captain. Hiding in basements."
"Very good. Tell the boys to get the crossbows ready. The bolts are cast iron, not silver by any means. Avoid close combat, lure between houses where there's no space. Shoot no matter where they are phantoms, they are tough to hit, but no real armor on them. If it comes to melee, take in the spears. Execute"
"Yes!" The lieutenant dashed away.
It is already obvious that this is a trap prepared just for him. The strongest warrior in the kingdom, perhaps in the world. His Majesty's greatest weapon. One of the main factors keeping Emperor Baharut from the real war. Gazef had no false modesty in assessing his importance to the country.
A village and not even any city are worth such an attack. So its goal was obvious.
Whoever prepared this attack couldn't have been unaware that Gazef couldn't be defeated by phantoms. If there were a hundred of them in an open field, they would still have options, but not in this situation. So the angels are here more as a deterrent than the mainstay of the attack. They can be handled by the guys. It'll be hard, but they should be able to handle it.
The phantoms reached the palisade, and, to Gazef's surprise, did not fly over it, but began to tear it down, wielding their spears like crowbars.
"Why are they doing that...? Maybe the palisade will interfere with the next attack. No riders in sight. Hm"
One of the angels, breaking through a gap in the fence, received a blast from five crossbows at once and melted into thin air, along with its weapon. The others paid no attention to the loss of their fellow man. Two more volleys, one figure melted, and the other just fell to the ground, pierced by crossbow arrows.
I told them cast iron, why the fuck would they use steel bolts. Okay.
He was about to go into battle in person when a well-set baritone rolled through the village as if coming from the sky.
Gazef Stronoff, warrior-captain of the kingdom of Re-Estise. I am Nigan, chosen knight of the Sunlight Scriptures. One way or another, you will die today. You can accept death by crouching like a cowardly rat, and I will burn this village to the ground. Along with you will die the innocents you want to protect. Or you can fall with honor, in battle, as befits a great warrior. Go out into the field, and I swear by my faith that I will not touch anyone else who does not want to fight. Show the white flag as consent, and I will call off the angels.
Gazef frowned. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt innocent people. He didn't mind taking the fight under any circumstances. Only he had no trust in whoever challenged him. Not after everything that had happened before.
On the other hand, this Nigun can probably really burn down the whole village if he doesn't have only these phantoms. Maybe not, but in that case, the cost of the test would be the lives of the common people. Gazef could not allow such a thing to happen. It would be against everything he served the kingdom for.
He glanced around the village once more. The angels had already made their way over the fence and his men were engaged in combat. In front of him, one of the phantoms dived toward Vatas, caught his wings on the roof ridge of an apartment building, and lost his balance for a moment. Vatas took advantage of the moment, put a bolt right in the angel's armpit, and ducked around the corner. The phantom roared muffled, unhooked from the jib, and came down heavily, wings spread wide. Ormik jerked out from around the corner of the house and planted a bolt right between his shoulder blades. The phantom turned, searching for a new target, and Vatas, reappearing from around the corner, jabbed him in the side with his spear. The phantom vanished.
Elsewhere, things were going similarly, and the guys were doing great. But there were too many phantoms. And in the distance, where the bloody summoning sorcerers were visible, the silhouettes of the new semi-material winged warriors were slowly appearing...
There was no choice. Gazef returned to the house.
"Headman!"
"Yes, sir?" The deathly frightened old man appeared at once.
"I need a white sheet or something like that."
"Sir, do you really believe these people?"
"I don't believe them, but there's a chance to save your lives, and I'm going to take it."
"I am eternally grateful to you, sir," the headman murmured, rushing to one of the chests and retrieving a whitewashed tablecloth.
He took the tablecloth and was about to return to the balcony when he noticed that the mysterious swordswoman was still sitting with the same boring look as if the event had nothing to do with her. He heard a muffled cry from outside - one of the men had failed.
"Headman, hang out that tablecloth from the balcony."
The old man bowed and grabbed the cloth and raced upstairs. Gazef turned to the swordswoman:
"Lady Draga, you have shown amazing skill in battle before. Would you care to join me in a new deed?"
"Nah," she answered boredly. "That Chatterbox has a score to settle with you, not me."
"Right. However, this is a state matter, and you can't stay out of it."
"I can." She smiled.
"What if I use my right to conscript you, given to me by law?"
"You can try," Draga smiled even wider.
A wicked smile. He involuntarily remembered what the bodies and armor of those she had killed were like. He didn't want to quarrel, and he didn't want to quarrel under such circumstances even more.
"I don't want to push you, it would be undignified. Do me the favor of telling me how I can get you interested in joining?"
"Hmm. I'm an adventurer. You can hire me."
"Whatever you say. How much?"
"Standard gold rank fee. One hundred gold coins."
"Deal. You'll get your payment from the treasury when you arrive at E-Rantel. We'll sign the contract there after the fact."
Draga stood up from her chair with a fluid motion and took hold of the hilt of her sword. The wicked smile remained on her face.
"Okay, I'm in. Whom do you want to kill?"
Gazef listened. There had been no sound of fighting outside for a minute, but there were some quick conversations. The phantoms did seem to have been recalled. It looked like the phantoms had indeed been recalled.
"I am challenged to a fight by a certain Nigun, I think you've heard. I will accept the challenge, and you make sure that no other enemy leaves alive."
"We-e-ell, that's boring. How about I cut off the head of the main asshole and you chase the rats?"
"You're pretty sure of yourself," Gazef smiled.
"I have a reason for that. So?"
"Have it your way. You take Nigan, and I and my boys will break through and destroy the encirclement. If you can, take him alive."
"We'll see. Where to look for him?"
Gazef estimated the direction.
"Northeast, over there," he pointed.
Draga nodded and went outside. There her stallion was already hoofing. Gazef had spotted him when they first met, and he admired his rare coloring and power.
With a graceful movement, Draga jumped into the saddle and raced off in the direction indicated.
Even if she doesn't overpower the leader, she will distract him, and it's a great chance for us to ruin his plan.
It didn't bother him that he sent a woman into battle so easily. In this world, talent could manifest itself in anyone, male or female. He had given up the perception of women as weak beings long ago when he met Lucky. The leader of the adamantine team of adventurers truly impressed him. As a one-on-one opponent, she wasn't much of an adversary for Gazef. But compared to ordinary humans or even other adventurers, she could single-handedly replace a wedge of two dozen knights. Or an entire team of mithril rank.
And Draga, by implication, is not much inferior to her. In any case, whoever takes up arms must be prepared to die. Except, it would be a pity to lose the opportunity to get to know her better. But duty is heavier than a mountain.
In the square, in front of the entrance, his men were already gathered. Four of the two dozen were wounded, blood oozing sluggishly through their pierced armor.
"Guys, we're going for a breakthrough. The maiden in black, an excellent fighter, will divert the attention of the enemy commander, we will strike in the other direction. We break through the encirclement, go into the woods and strike again from there. We go as a spear, I'm on the tip. Mount up!"
Draga was satisfied. Gazef left a generally pleasant impression on her. Rather, not so much pleasant. He didn't inspire the contempt she had for her like the other men she'd met. There was something about him that the rest of the adventurers, the guards, the men she'd killed, didn't have. Some inner dignity, a core of spirit and pride. He was sincerely true to his ideals and knew his worth, and in that way he reminded her of herself.
It was this sympathy that made her accept the offer and stay in this worthless village. She became curious. She wanted to take a closer look at Gazef. A man not in the service of the Lords, but worthy of them. He must be what the Prophet had in mind when he spoke of the 'powerful of this world'. That girl Tia certainly didn't deserve the title.
She was too lazy to deal with those who attacked the settlement again. It was too much trouble to kill without revealing her nature. Seeing the phantoms made her despondent at all. Such trifles were worthy of an orc's axe, not her active attention. Killing such inanimate beings would give her no pleasure. Draga considered taking care of the summoned creature masters after Gazef and all his warriors had been slaughtered. And send his corpse to Dawn City, for further study of body and spirit. The Prophet might even praise her for her initiative.
It's a good thing he gave up the idea of "conscripting" her. Such an insult would not have been tolerated by Draga. If he had insisted on the delusional idea of betraying her Lord by serving someone else, she would have killed him. Quickly and painfully. He's only strong by the standards of this world.
It didn't have to be done, Gazef came to his senses. And Draga came up with a good idea at just the right time. She was annoyed by the adventurer's guild and the rules and obligations associated with it. But the Prophet's orders are absolute, and by obeying the rules one can get the best of it. High-ranking order is a big step on the road to glory.
So, all in all, the situation turned out in the best possible way.
Lightly pushing the nightmare in the sides, Draga raced toward her indicated target. As she swung over the wall, she saw a chain of men with staffs, wearing chain mail and hard helmets in the distance. They stood a few dozen paces apart, the silhouettes of new phantoms hovering above them. When they saw her cross the wall and approach, the men hustled. The outlines of the summoned minions began to take on density.
Draga paid almost no attention to them. Her gaze was fixed on the man who stood out from the crowd. Everything about him said he was the commander. As she moved swiftly closer, she noticed more and more details. The posture of one accustomed to power. The armor and shield of a quality she had not yet seen from outside the Dawn City.
An enemy who thinks he is strong. To break his spirit. Enjoy his despair.
KILL. MAIM. BURN.
Nigun was glad that Gazef listened to reason and accepted the terms. It made the task much easier. Of course, he had no intention of leaving the unfortunate peasants alive. Their deaths would not serve his whim. He took no pleasure in human deaths, even if they were heretics. One simply could not leave witnesses behind. And according to his oath, he would not touch them - his men would do everything.
A white rag was hung from the balcony of the largest house, and Nigun told the summoners to scatter the phantoms. But contrary to expectation, it wasn't Gazef who appeared from behind the wall.
Nice horse, Nigan noted to himself. He's worth taking after all.
As the rider approached, however, Nigun's anger began to overtake him.
Woman.
How pathetic would you have to be to send a woman to her death? How disrespectful would you have to be to do such a thing?
Nigun gritted his teeth. Well, it would do him some good, too. His soldiers had long been in foreign lands, without their usual comforts. And using heretic villagers for pleasure would be too risky. The slightest misstep, the slightest trace is fraught with exposure, and that would not be good for the plan.
The rider was approaching quickly, and Nigan could see the armor. His resentment subsided. Certainly, trophies like this armor and horse were worth forgetting the insult.
When the rider was a few dozen paces away, he commanded his retinue:
"Knock her off her horse. If you even scratch the honorable animal, you will regret that you were born."
The bodyguards synchronously moved to cross the rider.
And then something happened that Sir Nygan had never expected. Under the influence of the ancient potion, his senses sharpened to unbelievable limits. It was only thanks to them that he noticed the two sword thrusts. Both bodyguards made their last step, already dead.
The rider didn't even slow down, and Sir Nigun realized he'd been wrong about her. It's certainly not a bad substitute for Gazef.
So rare fortune. Extremely powerful talent...
Nigun had enough combat experience to know what kind of blows a rider could deliver. It was enough to notice the first movement of the corpus to defend against an attack. Especially with a sacred relic like the Aegis. He stepped aside, letting the rushing horse pass, and shielded himself from the slashing blow.
The impact was so hard that, despite the power of the Aegis, the armor, and the effects of the ancient potion, his knees crunched and his boots went ankle-deep into the ground. His shoulder also felt slightly numb, promising serious trouble in the future.
But the rider also paid the price for her arrogance - the blow, reflected with the same force as it had been delivered, knocked her out of the saddle.
Nigun, seeing that she was easily jumping to her feet, despite her rather heavy armor, barked:
"Everyone, stand back!"
There was nothing for the rest of his men to do in the fight of such level. They understood that, and, following orders, they ran away.
Nigun, shield at the ready, drew his sword and examined his opponent's weapon. The blade was one and a half meters wide and made of light polished metal. There were finely engraved runes all along its length. A long hilt, which would be more appropriate for a two-handed sword, no hilt.
You shouldn't expect skillful tricks and deceptive feints from such a weapon. And it is difficult to defend oneself without a guard, either. So she'd have to rely on a frenzied attack with simple slashing blows. Or stabbing, if she changed her grip.
This monstrous power, is it from the equipment? I'm sure it is. It all belongs in the Arsenal and her place in the maternity ward. Mankind needs that kind of heredity!
Focusing on the rider, he almost missed the hoof strike from her stallion. Only at the last moment did he have time to retreat and cover himself with his shield. The horse was thrown back several paces by the force of his blow and roared indignantly.
Without taking her bottomless black eyes off Nigan, the rider snapped her fingers and pointed to his men at a distance. The stallion snorted and galloped toward them. Nigun was chilled; his men had no such protection, and such a blow would end in fractures at best. Then they would have to defend themselves as best they could. The animal would suffer.
So sad.
The rider, meanwhile, swung her sword in the air with an eerie thud and struck again with an oblique blow. It was hard to keep track of that speed, despite all the boosts. Only intuition saved him from another, from the other side.
Each blocked blow made bones and joints crack. The swordswoman was supposed to take the same damage, but he couldn't tell that she was feeling anything.
Another blow. And another. A bunch of three strikes.
The heartbeat began to accelerate inexorably. Tension beyond human capabilities spared not even a boosted body. Counterattacks were out of the question. Nigun measured his capabilities soberly. All he could do at the moment was to rely on Aegis and wait for the enemy to mutilate herself.
A crushing blow from above. For a moment it felt like a mountain had fallen on him. His shoulder went numb, and a piercing shock ran down his spine. His knees couldn't hold him and he fell to the ground. A ringing in his head.
What is going on, holy Heroes, how is this possible?
There was no pain. One of the gifts of the ancient relics allowed him to sense the damage, but not to feel it. He jumped to his feet, ignoring the damage, and stood at the ready. A fraction of a second was enough time to realize that finally, his opponent felt the power of the Aegis. She stared at the splintered sword with squeamish surprise. The blade had split a third of its length, closer to the hilt. Viscous trickles of blood slowly oozed from her nose and down her temple.
Nigun turned to her victoriously:
"I don't know who you are, but I'm amazed. Such power, such a rare gift! This is your defeat. I want to offer you something, and I'll let you live if you agree."
" А?" She turned to him in surprise, as if she had just noticed Nigun.
Seeing that she could not believe her luck, Nigun continued.
"You have no reason to continue serving the one who sent you here. Embrace the true faith! You will be one of the pillars of humanity in its struggle against inferior races and heretics. You will have everything you desire!"
Something was wrong. Instead of understanding and humility, there was the rage in her eyes. The hoop on Nigun's head felt warm.
"What. You. Said. Worm."
With these words, she threw the fragment of her sword to the side and walked frighteningly unhurriedly toward him.
"I said you are free to choose whether to serve the true faith willingly or against it. I'm giving you a chance to change your life. To dedicate it to a truly great idea. Do it willingly, and I won't mutilate your body. If not... Well, your womb alone will be enough."
"You. Will. Pity. About. These. Words. All. Remaining. Full. Suffering. Life."
"Nigun still didn't understand how she ended up with another sword in her hands. A completely different level. Not just a powerful artifact, but a real relic, like the weapons of the ancient Heroes. A broad two-handed sword with a powerful handguard. The frosty gray steel of the blade seemed to glow from within, and alternating patterns of sickly scarlet flickered across the blade. As it moved, the blade left a ghostly trail in the air."
Nigun blocked the blow and was horrified to realize that the whole previous fight had been just a warm-up. He was thrown far to the side, knocking his back into a thick tree. The swordswoman hissed blood angrily, and, hissing through her teeth, stalked quickly toward him.
He couldn't feel his left arm and leg. A quick glance showed that the fight was virtually over. His shoulder was twisted at an unnatural angle, and blood stains were beginning to spread across the gleaming chainmail. And death was coming right at him.
The stupid heretic was much stronger than he could have imagined. It was clear from the blood-stained, hate-filled face that there was no point in talking. Neither was it possible to continue the battle. Yes, the council had foreseen the possibility of such a situation. It was a shame to go to extremes for the wrong reasons. But there was no choice.
With his healthy hand, Nygun nervously removed the crystal from his belt. His fingers were unsteady, and he nearly dropped the relic. When she was only a few steps away, he squeezed the crystal.
The gem's seemingly indestructible surface cracked with a crunch, and the bright light blinded Nigun for a moment. At the same moment, the celestial's cry of pain made his heart clench painfully. The mighty Supreme Archangel, freed by the last artifact of its type, protects him with his body.
What horrible weapon could so wound an entity like this? How did it turn out this way?
He was mesmerized as he watched the celestial, with deceptive slowness, raising his hands in a gesture of prayer. A flawless, perfect body, wrapped in robes woven from the light itself, powerful wings that seemed to cover this whole wicked world.
A show that no mortal will ever have the privilege of seeing again. Never.
At the moment when the sword of the evil one was about to strike the angel, a torrent of blinding light fell from his hands upon the enemy. It was as if the light washed all the evil, all the darkness out of the world, and for a moment it drowned the woman in the black armor.
The next moment everything was drowned out in a nightmarish, monstrous roar that made his heart freeze. The hoop on his head heated to the point that it began to fry beneath him. Out of this stream of pure light burst a clot of absolute darkness and literally pierced the celestial creature through.
Looking at the slowly settling shards of pure light whose messenger had been here only moments before, Nygan was filled with despair. Through the shimmering waterfall, the Evil One was walking slowly, limping. Charcoal-black smoke oozed from the armor. Her face was streaked with bloody burns. Her hair, burnt to the roots. The blade throbbed with a sickly cold.
Mad, pure hatred in her eyes.
The woman reached out and grabbed his face, her hand in her black smoke gauntlet. Even through all his pain defenses, Nigun felt so much pain from the burns that he could barely contain the scream.
"It was painful."
Nothing human in the voice. That's how the flames sound.
He was not afraid of death or torture. But to die here and now he could not afford it, not in any way. After all, it would mean that the sacred relics would fall into enemy hands. It would be an unqualified failure of the mission.
With one last effort, he reached into his secret pocket and broke the little clay figurine. In an instant, his barely alive, shattered body fell to the cold, polished marble of the Cathedral of Heroes.
The last thing he saw was the light of the blessed stained glass windows of the great temple and the attendants in white robes running toward him.
He made it.