I do not own Chaotic nor anything related to it. It belongs to TCDigital.

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The Descent

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Van Bloot's hidden army hears its maimed leader's orders, and they spring from the mists, roaring and brandishing weapons. They must have crept up while Bloot and I fought. Not that any of us were really surprised.

The first wave of Bloot's soldiers suddenly fall dead, cut down by weapons that had already been trained on the surrounding mists.

Chaor roars in laughter. "So predictably treacherous, Bloot!" he cries out.

Van Bloot spreads his wings and starts to glide, but his balance is completely gone, and within moments he tumbles out of the air and rolls on the ground.

More of Bloot's army bursts from the mists, and many fall on the spot, but others dive for cover behind the bodies of other soldiers. Those that survive begin to fire back with their weapons, some at Chaor and his army, while a few turn their attention to me.

Lowering myself from the air safely is proving to be a chore. A spray of rock batters the side of my armor, spinning me and disrupting my balance and focus. There's a lurch in my stomach as I drop a dozen feet before I can catch myself again.

Bloot is lying practically helpless on the ground, the stumps of his arms pushing uselessly against the floor in an attempt to get back up. Atrapol and the rest of the Gothos Phalanx slowly form a circle around him, their blank glowing eyes contrasting sharply with their battle-ready postures.

I let myself drop the remaining feet to the ground, sinking to one knee from the impact. I hear the clatter of ice shards ricocheting off my helmet. I get to my feet, glance over at my attacker, and let a jet of flame loose from the face of my helm at him and the other hostiles near him. Then I turn my attention back to the battle.

There's Chaor, fighting off five creatures at once and not having any trouble with it. Takinom and seven other fliers soar overhead, swatting down Bloot's airborne forces like they were flies. A huddled crowd of enemy soldiers suddenly go flying as Rothar the minotaur charges through them, goring and trampling and pummeling everything that gets in his way. Khybon leads a team of Humans, all wielding crude yet powerful imitations of weapons from Earth, pistols and rifles and the like.

This isn't a fight. It's a slaughter. Chaor's army is simply better manned, better armed, and more prepared than Bloot's.

...Crap, I've lost track of Van Bloot. How did he and his zombie-like guardians slip away so quickly?

I start to run through the fight, swinging weapons and throwing fire at Bloot's forces in my way. I can't find him, he's vanished!

...Vanished.

"Maliph!" I bellow. "Malvadine!"

I can barely hear their replies over the roar of battle. I can't tell exactly what they're saying.

I hope they can understand what I'm saying. "Head to Gothos Tower! To Gothos Tower!"

I begin to run, the swirling flames lightening my steps and practically carrying me across the battlefield. I dodge allies and cut through enemies as I approach the lonely building.

I leap up the stairs to the tower's entrance five steps at a time, a superhuman feat made trivial with Seeryn's gift. Van Bloot can't be too far away, right?

The doors to the tower are coming up. I don't slow down. Instead I bend forward and aim a shoulder at the barrier. Moments later, there's a sound of cracking wood, and burning splinters scatter as I barrel straight through the doors.

Gothos Tower is deathly silent. The raging battle outside is unnaturally quiet, muffled by some strange power. The walls, floor, and ceiling are all polished stone, elaborately carved. I take a step forward, and the sound of my boot hitting marble flooring rings clearly through the air.

I tighten my grip on my broadsword, and I take another loud step. There's no way I can move silently here. My metal armor will broadcast every step I make, and even if I try to fly again, the flames that hold me aloft will be just as loud.

The main hall is apparently empty, and it probably is. Injured as he is, Van Bloot would not depend solely on his Tower-granted invisibility to conceal him from harm. Where would he be?

Hours of planning with Chaor and Takinom come back to me as I try to remember the blueprints of Gothos Tower. Ah, yes, the cellar. Van Bloot will likely be looking to replenish his arsenal, maybe even find a mugic to reverse the dismemberment he's suffered. He would need a mugician to do so himself, but he likely has a muge among his Gothos Phalanx.

Under a flight of stairs leading up is a wooden trapdoor, locked from the other side. A burst of flame easily removes that obstacle, revealing a narrow stairwell leading down. I begin to walk down-

Click.

The steps vanish, folding down and forming a slope. My feet fly out from under me, and I slide down on my back. I don't even have time to realize what exactly has happened when I slam feet first into a wall.

My breath is caught in my throat. My lungs have seized up from the pain. And there's a dark figure standing above me, its outline blurry in my vision.

"Pin him down!" screeches a pained voice.

There's a heavy weight on my chest, trying to crush me. My armor groans under the pressure, but it's holding together. It's one of Bloot's soldiers, Atrapol or someone similar to him, and he's made a big mistake.

I grab his ankle and set my hands ablaze, and he jerks his leg back. I pull a leg back and kick his other ankle.

The kick sends sparks of pain down my leg and knocks the air out of my lungs. Oh crap, did it break when I hit the wall?

Something covers my vision, and I feel my body being lifted up. One of the Gothos Phalanx is grabbing my face. I grab his wrist and increase the heat, but it only makes the hand holding me tighten.

There's an impact near my stomach, as if someone tried to punch me through my armor. I blindly try to grab my assailant's face, but my hands can only find the material of his helmet. Another punch to my stomach, and I feel the metal of my armor buckle.

I squeeze my eyes shut and conjure up the hottest flame I can manage. A scream of boiling air escapes the seams of my armor, and the creature assaulting me drops me and staggers back.

My legs fail to support my weight as I hit the ground, and I crumble. There's sharp, piercing pain. Definitely broken. My breath is coming in shallow gasps, and the world in front of my eyes has gone blurry. I can feel tiny salt crystals crusting around my eyelids as tears of pain vaporize instantly in the heat I've created.

Distantly I hear Bloot's voice cry out, "Don't just stand there! Kill him!"

Many red blurs begin approaching me. I can't track their movements, can't aim. Something is covering my helmet's visor. Too many sudden injuries, my body can't cope.

As the red blurs approach, another red blur swoops in from the corner of my eye. This new blur collides with the others, and there's a sound of clashing metal, cries of pain.

A pair of hands grab me, then recoil with a sharp hiss of pain. I swing at this new presence pitifully.

"Osiris, it's me!" comes Malvadine's voice.

Oh.

I feel a quick knife swipe cut the belt that holds my helmet in place, and another swipe of the weapon knocks the helmet off. I blink away a sudden burst of light-blindness, and when I can finally see again, the image in front of me stops my breath in my throat.

Maliph stands in the center of a ring of dead creatures, pulling his sword from the chest of the most recently slain. Van Bloot cowers in a corner, eyes wide and staring. Maliph finally yanks his sword free, then steps forward.

My armor is cool enough for Malvadine to touch now. He carefully starts helping me up, while Maliph approaches Bloot.

There's a movement behind Maliph. One of the Gothos Phalanx isn't dead yet. Atrapol rises from a pile of dead bodies and grabs Maliph by the horns, pulling hard. Maliph cries out in pain and swings wildly, but Atrapol is exactly where Maliph can't reach him.

"Drop me!" I order Malvadine.

He needs no further explanation. I barely have time to brace myself before I fall, and Malvadine rushes forward and plants a knife into Atrapol's back. The Underworlder roars and tosses Malvadine off, but the damage has been done. He falls backwards, landing heavily, his head within arm's reach of me.

I'm not taking any chances. I grab my helmet by one of its protruding horns and bury the other horn through Atrapol's visor, in between his eyes. The last of the Gothos Phalanx spasms. His voice gurgles. He goes limp. Then he dies.

I look up at Van Bloot. He stares at Maliph, at Malvadine, at the stumps that were his arms, and then at me. There's a long silence.

Finally, Bloot speaks. "Have mercy."

I send a hot spear of fiery death to his torso with the last of the fire that had been granted to me. Bloot's body opens up like overfull trash bag, spilling flaming... trash... across the floor. He's dead before his body hits the floor.

Then, I answer. "No."

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Chaor is slightly upset that he didn't get the chance to kill Bloot himself. Actually, scratch the "slightly" part. Still, he's more than glad that he's gone.

Me? I'm just tired. My legs have been set and immobilized. My burns, including those I accidentally set on myself, are being treated. Rags soaked in ice cold water rest against my skin, cooling me down from dangerously high temperatures. I'm tired and dizzy and tired and I think I'm starting to repeat myself.

"Prince Osiris!" Chaor's voice booms as he strides into the medical tent I'm resting in. "Allow me to award you for your assistance." He produces a golden ring decorated with the symbol of the Underworld. "Should you ever want an audience with me, present this, and you will not have to wait long before I answer."

I want to throw a rag at him. I don't, though. I just pretend to be asleep, keeping my eyes barely open so I can watch him.

Chaor looks at me for a while, shrugs, then leaves the ring beside my mattress before leaving.

I close my eyes and let sleep take me.

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Act VI: Prosperous is complete!

Act VII: Departure is coming!

Up next: The Last Foe

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Below is a sneak peak at the opening of the next chapter!

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My name is Osiris. My name is also Michael. I am known as the man who defeated all of his foes, eventually if not immediately.

I have a new foe, now. One that I have no hope of defeating. No sword, no spell, no twist of fate will come to my aid now.

My foe is Time. I am slowly dying.

But I still have a story to tell before my... what's a good word to use...?

...My departure.