They're coming.
"I know."
Their souls...their souls are delicious. I can smell them from here...I...I need-
"I know."
I am so hungry... He heard something in its voice. Something that would have been tears if it were human, weeping. Why can't I stop being hungry...why...
"I'm sorry."
So hungry...give me...souls give me souls please souls... Its voice dispersed into desperate, begging murmurs.
He turned, instinctively, and saw them standing on the other end of the room.
"They're here."
Their souls...! Their souls...!
The Pale Man stepped forward, brandished his sword, and then flew through the air toward them.
"He's fast," Ostrava yelled as they ran. "Very fast. Don't let him-"
But he was right, righter than he wanted to be. And they were slower because of their injuries. The King was on them in seconds. His sword cut through Nameless's armor, and struck Ostrava in the side. Thankfully, it didn't pierce his armor, but sent him falling to the ground. Nameless tried to swing his sword down, but the King recovered and blocked. His other hand came out, and wrapped around Nameless's throat, then lifted him from the ground.
He squirmed, but couldn't escape. He looked the King in the eyes. Suddenly, he started feeling something inside of himself fading. His arms felt weaker, and dull, and then it spread out to the rest of his body. He kept struggling and trying to fight it, but saw the soul energy leaving him.
And in the back of his mind, he heard the voice.
Yes...give me his souls...give me...give me his souls...
"No!" he heard, and Ostrava stabbed his sword into the King's back. The King growled, and let go, and Nameless fell to the ground.
He had to struggle to pull himself up. He wasn't standing as easily in his armor anymore.
"Ostrava!" he yelled, looking up. "He can steal souls!"
But it was too late, the king had already grabbed Ostrava, and he could practically see him deteriorating in his grasp. He tried to attack, but the King dropped his sword, and also grabbed him. He felt himself being absorbed all over.
"Ost...Ostrava..." he whispered, while his lips still had the energy to move. "He's...he's going to take everything. He's going to take all of it...and turn us into the mindless soul stealers..."
"Ostrava...?" The King said, as he held them, he looked between the two of them, then focused on Ostrava. "Prince Ariona Allant. Really."
"Father. Stop. Please..." Ostrava whispered.
"Your first error," said the Archdemon, as he absorbed the energy from both of them. "Was in assuming this would be a fight. This is not a fight. This is you running into my chamber and providing me with more souls."
He walked over to the throne as they struggled, growing weaker with each spasm and kick.
"Look," he said, as he held them toward the window. "What you are seeing is my kingdom. But more than that. The kingdom of The Old One. The kingdom of God."
"Please...Father..." Ostrava said. "Please..."
"Kings have claimed that they have the divine right to rule since the beginning of monarchy," Allant said. "But I am the first to truly be given it. Umbasa, God, and The Old One. All three are the same being, and they have granted me their power. Now, all that you see before you is truly mine. And soon, this entire world."
"But why, father? Why help the Old One...? It'll consume everything. I don't understand-"
"Consume everything...but what is worthwhile? My son, Ariona, look at me."
And he turned Ostrava around, looked him in the eyes. His eyes were large, with white irises...and empty.
"Do you not see the eyes of a man who has seen this world? Seen what it has to offer? I have tasted the pleasures given to me by my rule. I have tasted money, power, women, everything that a person can acquire...and I have found, beneath it all, the emptiness."
"What emptiness? Father, you're not making sense."
"I am saying the only thing that does make sense. Why do we want these things? Why do we strive so hard for them, when, in the end, we taste their pleasure for a brief moment, and then they are gone? When, in the end, we die just the same. We are disconnected from God, my son. We have been for ages."
And Nameless remembered. He remembered the feeling of completeness just from going to the past when Umbasa was there, when it granted absolution to its followers. He remembered how perfect and how beautiful life had been in that second.
He remembered the rage he had felt for those who'd lived at that time. The envy.
"We fill the holes in ourselves with things, my child. But they are meant to be filled with god. That's why they are there. It's why we're drawn to the Soul Arts in the first place...because we want, without knowing what we want. We desire without knowing the reason for our desire."
Ostrava felt his body weakening, he tried to struggle again, but he stood even less of a chance. "Father...you're talking about everyone's soul being devoured, destroyed. The entire world."
The King's white eyes seemed to glow. "Yes. And in the moment before that destruction, we will be one with God, again."
"That thing..." Nameless whispered. "It isn't God, anymore. You can hear it in your mind just like I can. You know it isn't."
"Isn't God anymore...?" Ostrava whispered. "What?"
"So you know...?" King Allant said, as he looked at Nameless. "Why don't you tell him."
"No! Let us go, it doesn't matter!"
"It does matter," said the King, and looked back to Ostrava. "The Old One is God. We-humanity-we took its soul."
"...What?"
"And like the soul-starved that we would create after it, it went mad, it hungered for souls to replace its own, even though doing so would be impossible. And this created The Old One, as we know it."
"But...no..." Ostrava whispered.
"The Old One is God, my son. And we must rejoin it."
And Nameless saw Ostrava's face drain along with the energy in his body. He felt himself dwindling. Dwindling until, finally, he was nearing normal human levels. He was dying down...he couldn't fight-
Ding.
"What?" Ostrava said.
"What?" Nameless said.
"...What?" said The King, as he turned, just in time to see the elevator doors open.
Just in time to see the charging, blackened, burnt suit of armor, carrying the blackened, burnt sword.
"Lad. Ye didn't wait for me!" It screamed, in a voice that sounded like charcoal.
The King gasped, flabberghasted. "No. I saw you. The dragon-"
"A Bloody Dragon ain't gonna take out Biorr, and Vallerfax, of THE TWIN FANGS!"
"You said two...!" The False King screamed. "You said two!"
There are two... the voice said. The Prince. And the knight.
"I'm holding another!" Said the King.
There was a pause.
Then the voice spoke.
He is Nameless. And he could not be seen.
"What kind of sense does that-"
But before the King could complain, Biorr bowled into him. All four of them flew forward.
And then out the missing hole in the castle.
They plummeted toward the stairwell below.
"NO!" The King yelled. "I REFUSE! I REFUSE!"
And he threw Ostrava downward. He pulled out his sword again, and swung at Biorr, who grabbed on, roaring obscenities, even as the sword plunged into his side. Even as the King held him up like shiskabobbed meat, and then banged him against the castle wall running by them...and that was all it took. The Old Knight had been holding out, just barely, but Nameless saw his eyes go empty, right then.
And he felt the souls flowing into him.
The King swung his sword around again, and even though Ostrava was beneath him, he took the brunt of it. This time, Soul energy was behind the sword, and while it had only hit against the prince's armor before, this time it cut through.
Ostrava coughed up blood, while falling, and it floated above him. He reached out toward Nameless, but he was too far. A second swing cut through the prince's neck, and blood gushed outward. Just like Biorr, his eyes emptied.
Nameless didn't have time scream. He didn't have time to do anything. The King turned to him, reached for him. He dodged the hand, and plunged his sword downward. Into the King's belly. But its point hit against something. He realized, morosely, that it was the augite on his belt. He'd stabbed in the exact wrong place. A substance harder than diamond blocked him.
But a small piece of it chipped off.
Something inside of it leaked.
And then he felt the souls enter him.
Now, lad! Yelled Biorr.
Get him, ye nameless weird mesh'a souls. Yer all we got left! Yelled Vallerfax.
Don't give up! Ostrava.
Don't let him get you, boy. Said Freke. Coherent. Not at all the man he'd been right before his death. But the scholar he'd been long ago.
If you'll put an end to the Soul Arts like this, do it. Mephistopheles. It's not like I can kill you, anymore.
And behind them were all the other souls, screaming at him. Everything human, demon, and in between, working together, pulling.
I'm here.
And he looked. He saw her. She was there. Holding the sword with him.
"But...your soul isn't-"
She smiled, softly. I am wherever thou needest mine help. Now, together.
The wax on her eyes broke down, tore itself, and he saw the most terrifying power he'd ever seen in her eyes. Blackness mixed with red to create all the force of hell running into his mind. He turned away, focused his eyes on his opponent, who looked confused now. Scared. Then he saw what was beneath it, only for an instant.
He was hollow.
"You aren't Allant," he said, to himself. "You're a mockery of him. A dummy."
"NO!" The False King screamed. "No he can't know! Don't let him see me! Don't let him see what I've become!"
"EVERYONE!" Nameless screamed.
And they shoved the sword straight through the augite, into Allant's stomach. The gem shattered, and soul energy flew from it as they shot toward the ground. The King opened his mouth and gasped a bloodless gasp, and then they plunged even further downward, faster. When they hit the stairs, the sword shoved itself deeper into the King's body, but the momentum of landing on a slanted surface betrayed them, and they rolled downward. He ignored the pain of hitting the stairs over and over again, and kept his focus on holding onto his weapon.
Finally, they reached the bottom of the steps, and he overturned Allant, so that his body was facing upward. Nameless withdrew his sword. No blood came with it.
He was staring down at the dead eyes of a puppet.
He turned, looked, and saw Ostrava's body, near him. As well as Biorr's. He wanted to exchange last words. He wanted to hear them say something before their lives left them.
But they were gone.
He looked up into the sky. "King Allant! Show yourself to me, now!"
There was silence.
"Enough games, enough delaying! I want to face you! The real you! Nothing less!"
There was a deep silence, and it hit him just how alone he was. The wind blew through the cracks in the stone, whistling as it brushed through and out. Were the demons dead? Probably not.
This was stupid. Regardless of whether it had been King Allant, it had been the Archdemon. He'd killed it. He should go back to the Nexus, where they would initiate the next phase of the plan.
But he looked down at Ostrava again.
He couldn't let it go.
"Allant! You coward! Face me!"
He expected there to be silence again. And for almost a minute, there was.
Then, a voice spoke on the wind.
So...you're that determined.
He was stunned. But he responded. "Yes. Yes, I am."
You...you are the mightiest slayer of demons that has ever come to Boletaria. You have killed every Archdemon...and you are the last left alive. The others who came before you. Who were with you. Their deaths prove your qualification, through your survival.
"Stop blathering, Allant."
I am not...I am...verifying. Your thirst. I can smell it all the way from here.
"What thirst?"
Why, your thirst for souls.
"...I don't understand."
Why do you really think that you came all this way, child? Why did you keep fighting, even when things got harder, impossible, even? And what is the similarity between you, and the soul-starved warriors who guarded this castle? Both are humans...who have lost themselves. And replace those identities with the Demons' Souls.
"You're assuming a lot of things, Allant. Why don't we talk this out in person?" His hand tightened on his sword.
I...am not...stupid. But you are. Clearly. Do you not see it in yourself? The love for the strange, hybrid creature that gave you these powers? It's really only the love for the power itself.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
Do I? When did you start loving her? Ask yourself. Was it before or after you heard The Old One's voice?
He didn't say anything.
Even better question...have you heard The Old One's voice at all, lately? Because if you haven't, it doesn't mean it isn't there...oh it's still there...it means you can't separate it from your own thoughts.
He concentrated, and when he did, he felt it again, begging, pleading, even stronger than before. It had been there the whole time. Blended into him. The difference, the only difference, was that he hadn't been paying attention.
But it had effected him, anyway.
You have a chance...you could be the greatest Archdemon to ever work under The Old One's mantle. It wouldn't even be hard for you. But you must do this: You must wait for the right opportunity, once you have entered The Old One...and you must kill her. The Maiden. For there, she can be killed.
"Are you insane!?" Nameless screamed. "Why the hell would I kill her?"
Because otherwise, she'll leave you forever.
He froze.
Did you really believe that it was possible? Did you imagine yourself marrying her? Raising children? It's laughable. When she puts the Old One back to its slumber, she will go with it, and stay down there for eternity.
"But...why?"
Because she, like The Old One, is a source of The Soul Arts, you stupid boy. If either of them exists in this world, The Soul Arts will still be possible. And the Old One, if it isn't already drawn out, will be drawn out again.
But there is a way out.
Do you feel Ostrava's soul in you now? Biorr's? Good...because you should. Because they're one with you. And she can be that, too.
He looked up.
"Allant. You're in the Old One, aren't you? You're inside of it."
The voice in the wind transformed itself into powerful laughter. My, you are a clever one. I hope you use that brain to make the right choice.
He bit his lip. "I will."
I will see you soon.
Then, silence.
Alone, he walked back into the castle, and went up the elevator, watching all the floors of the tower zip by. At the top, near the throne room, there was an archstone.
He walked past the decorated walls, and took note of the people that were depicted on them. Past kings, of a kingdom that never was, and never would be again. Despite everything, Ostrava had been right. They hadn't been fighting for this place, anymore. The war to save Boletaria had already been had been lost since before he'd started fighting it.
And now, he was the only one left.
He suddenly felt very tired. But there was no time to rest.
He walked over to the archstone, touched it, and was gone.
Okay, I say with absolutely certainty that the next chapter is the last one.
And the certainty behind that, the lack of necessary thought, gives me time to reflect. I realize that I started this over twenty months ago. Ho-ly schiza.
It's funny, because I wouldn't have started it today. Not because I don't enjoy writing it, but because I need to get myself published, in real life. But I knew after it exploded that I needed to see it through to the end, particularly because of the support you all showed me. Besides, that's a huge part of being successful as a writer, finishing what you start, because it's the biggest thing that holds people back.
So next chapter, I'll finally be done. And then it's on to serious writer stuff. I hope I won some fans here. That's a pretty important thing, in this day and age.
And no, I won't be commenting on the final chapter. I want the ending to sit on its own, without my blathering distracting from it.
So this is my final note to you all. Bye for now, thank you for your support, and most of all, enjoy the ending that wouldn't be happening without your support.
Praise the Sun!