Big Thanks to McMake who has designed this entire fight. Hop on discord to see shitposts and say hi to him.
Invite code Discord: 6YGmZ39vvT
Armour: Brimflame
Weapon: Infernal Rift, Stormfront Razor
Acc(10/11): Celestial cuffs, Mana Flower, Sorcerer Emblem, Celestial Emblem, Ankh Shield, Deific Amulet, FrostSpark Boots, Grand Gelatin, Amalgamated Brain, Evasion Scarf.
Health: (425/500)
*click*
A simple noise. A deceptively pedestrian noise. It echoes in the frozen, weightless air before it's swallowed and silenced by the great expanse of snow that surrounds me. The sky stretches over me like a vast arc. From where I stand, I can see from one edge of the world to the other. I had longed for this... this was the cause of all my trouble. Freedom. Pride. Wanderlust. It was for this I had rebelled against Braelor. It was for this I had suffered a thousand deaths.
...
My breath fogs my visor as the sound fades into nothing. The cool air does little to ease the fire in my lungs, but I am not here to be comforted. A trial lays before me, and I clench my teeth as I wait for it to come to bear. For a long moment, silence reins... but its not a peaceful silence. Its a silence filled with stringent tension. That torpid silence which rings out before the bombs hit the ground. The sombre silence of ashen desolation after flames scorch the land. The silence of a string stretched taunt, pulled to its very breaking point. The silence of an eager mob that ceases gnashing its teeth to watch the guillotine fall.
...
I breathe in the silence.
It leaves bile in my throat.
...
I breathe it back out.
My heart quails in apprehension.
...
*Crack*
The noise splits the silence and I flinch, tightly squeezing The Frozen Key's intricate handle as I watch - terrified - as fractures spiderweb across its surface. Even through my armored gloves, the glassy ice is bitterly cold. It chills my skin until my fingers and stiff and numb. I can feel the clear ice begin to crumble and break under my grip, but I hold onto it tightly. I must unlock this prison. I must fight Cryogen. I must recover The Archmage. I know The Resistance will not accept me unless I succeed in my task. Indeed, should I return having failed or fled, Braelor would certainly kill me with his own hands.
Hero... you can do this.
I breathe out hard and fix my eyes on the tremendous key, clinging to it as if my very life depended on it. It shatters as it twists and, as smoothly as clockwork, activates the clear tumblers deep in the ice. I hear a low rumble from within the icy prison, and - frozen in apprehension - watch as the countless outlines of a mysterious, translucent machinery slowly activates.
Something's coming...
The doors creak open and a chill bursts forth - not a natural one, but a strange, eerie wind which whirls and whirls, tighter and tighter until I can see the foggy outlines of lashing chains. One floats languidly over me, as loose and airy as a light thread. I watch mesmerized as it floats in the air. Is it real? I'm unsure. Perhaps I am once again hallucinatin-
*crack*
I cry out as the chain of cracks like a whip and plunges down as if to bisect me. My rational mind scoffs, saying airy wind can do me no harm - but my animal instincts drive me to release the remains of the quickly dissolving key and leap clear. The rapid movement causes my head to spin and my aching flesh to cry in protest. My head begins to spin and I'm overcome with a bout of vertigo - but I don't bemoan my actions... for the chain has carved a great chasm where I had stood just moments before. That whip made of wind has split the stone, and will certainly split me asunder should I allow it.
*crack...crack...crack*
The Air shakes. The plateau rumbles. Those great stones which have stood silent for a millennia now rattle and splinter and convulse as that 'Thing' I must defeat wakes from its long slumber. The chains lash and spin so quickly I can scarcely follow them. As they unravel - shattering mountain bedrock to dust and churning the snow into a great blizzard - the great icy door begins to lift from the stone with a slow groaning. I watch in equal parts terror and awe as I realize the door is merely a small part of a greater structure. It shakes the ground. The ice sings. The crystal castle rises, floats, before me like some herculean monument, a great looming castle? A prison? I know not. All I am sure of is that it blots out the sun. Its appearance is like nothing I've seen before. Vaguely hexagonal and besieged roundabout with spinning chains and shimmering crystals, my enemy... my executioner... it floats there in all of its intricately regal glory. A terrifyingly beautiful enemy. A mindless and faceless foe.
(ahh... haah... haah)
It has no eyes, yet I feel that cold gaze look on me with sneering anger. That chilling wind fills my lungs, and I'm certain I feel the sting of ice crystals beginning to coat my windpipe. What bitter cold! What an overwhelming foe. How can I fight an enemy like this? With no flesh to rend, and no body to destroy. A being, a machine, that commands a magic so ancient and powerful that I see the very mountaintops chaff at the great pressure of the cold. I clutch the blade that appeared in my hand. My hands tremble in apprehension, but I dare not take my eyes off of my enemy.
What... what do I do?!
What the hell am I supposed to do?! Fight this?! Without magic?! Is it even possible? How can I win? How will I avoid death - and not just one death, but tens of thousands of deaths at the hands of The Crimson Worms. Is it... is this even worth it? Should I run? Maybe I can flee The Resistance and find refuge amongst the common people? Perhaps I can escape My Teacher's scrying eye and Braelor's vengeance? Perhaps I-
I blink and groan as my guts churn. I'm not sure if it's my nervousness or the corruption eating my organs. No. I cannot run. The disease in my flesh has sealed my fate. I have no time. I cannot survive on my own like this. I must press on. I mustn't give up.
I won't give up
I set my face like flint. I put on a front of tenacity. Can I really go through with this? I have to. I have no choice. My mouth is filled with rotten bile from where The Corrupting microbes ate through my gums and tongue. My teeth feel loose and achey but I clench them together until I'm afraid they might shatter. I open my eyes as wide as they go and glare stubbornly into the whirlwind of ice and wind. Something rises in me. A fiery indignance matches the cold despair, and eventually overcomes it. Indeed, I won't give up. I will fight. I will win. I'm going to show those Resistance bastards just who they tried to throw away! This suicide mission?! I will return from it triumphant. I will not crawl. I will not run. I will not die.
*Crack*
The lashing wind chains are spinning so quickly that I can scarcely see them - but I can sense them. My Teacher has trained me well in followingthe flow of mana, and initially, I could predict the trajectory of each of the Ice Prison's attacks. The first bout of lashing, I simply weave along the ground. The second is hazy, more difficult to read and I am forced to scramble and leap as 'Cryogen' spins and sheds razor bladed icicles every which way. Those blades of ice fly at incredible speeds, plunging deep into the stone before shattering into nothing. Ice piercing stone? That... that's impossible.
Of course it's impossible.
But that doesn't mean 'Impossible' won't kill me.
I have no time to ponder the reasonableness of my absurd enemy. I must not die. I-
*Crack!*
"Shit!"
An icicle blade slices into the stone merely inches from my nose, cutting deep into the rock before shattering. Its a monstrous thing, ten feet long, perfectly javelin shaped, and razor sharp. How many hits can I tolerate from a weapon such as this?! I don't dwell on it. I raise my eyes to behold the blur of ice and magic in an effort to survive the next volley, but instead of hope - I'm filled with panic.
I can't see the flow of magic at all!
I feel my heartbeat in my throat. I feel my breath tear in my lungs. I go as rigid as a deer facing down his hunters. Daggers fly out once more and I simply shout aloud and shield my head. Where will the icicles land? I hadn't the faintest idea. I can only pray they don't hit me... for every readable trace of mana has vanished. I can't see a thing! Is this merely an effect of that unbearable cold? It has dulled my natural senses already. My vision is hazy, my touch is dull. I hear nothing but white noise... is my 'magical sense' likewise stunted? I could see the paths of mana just a moment ago, but now - nothing, as if its vanished altogether.
(*Crack...crack...crack!*)
What's happening!
Yet although my eyes cannot see it, I know the magic is there. The air is full of it. The great castle whips back and forth, sailing on the wings of its own ominous power. The icicles continue to circle it at a rapid pace, nearly forming a shield about Cryogen's core. The wind strips the mountains with a great grinding screech and I feel arcane pressure in my flesh. Every cell is screaming silently at me, every nerve retches and shudders. My whole body is wound up like a spring, trembling under the tension of some great ancient force. All around me, icicle blades rain down. I stand here and shudder, entranced as that great glowing prison looms over me. I gaze upon its radiant halo of colours which bends and blaze forth in hues I have not even imagined before... I see the very light refract in unnatural directions, shadows forming where there should be no shadows, light spotting where there should be no light. What in the world is this?! I have only read about a phenomenon like this once, it was when the Witch Calamitas poured her strength like rain over the land, filling it with hellish brim-...
Oh no...
My heart drops.
My indignation is replaced with cold fear.
Because the magic has not disappeared.
I cannot see it because I've been submerged.
Can a fish see water? Do men see air? I've been plunged into the midst of my enemy's power. It's pushing on me. It's drowning me. I feel it pressing down, making every limb as heavy as lead. It chafing through my armour and seeps into my already-sickly flesh. I... I have no time. I failed to realize how desperate my situation was. I cannot afford to sit back and observe this 'Cryogen's behavior. I am wasting away with each passing moment!
(haaah... haaah... cough, cough)
Is my battle truly hopeless?! I can't get the idea out of my mind. Is all this effort for naught? Perhaps I simply cannot win. I am but an ant before a titan. I am simply playing the fool for The Resistance's schemes. Perhaps, but I-I have no time to ponder it. My mind is hazy. I can't breathe - I can't breathe yet I must struggle on. I must attack. I must lash out. I won't give up. I must vanquish my enemy lest that icy magic suffocate me.
Go, Damn you!
I begin to move. I focus as hard as I can as icicles rain relentlessly down upon my head, doing my best to dodge with my dim vision alone. Some shards are large, others are small. All of them are razor sharp and emanate a hyperborean aura far colder than anything natural. This cold isn't simply an 'absence of heat'. It's not a lack of anything... This cold is present. It's predatory. Its hungry. It wants to kill me.
But I will kill it first.
"Tch."
Kill the cold? I want to laugh but it hurts too much. Ridiculous. I might as well attempt to halt the wind, or lift the earth, but I try anyways. I can no longer run. I can't retreat. I can't back down. The only way forward is through. With a loud cry, I hurl my Stormfront Razor at Cryogen's icy, iridescent core. The flashing blade streaks through the blizzard, piercing through the lashing wind until it's smashed aside by one of the ice golem's rotating javelins. The javelin shatters. My razor vanishes, then reappears in my hand as I dodge and weave through the rain of ice that showers down ever more thickly upon me. I stumble over a protruding stone and a splinter plunges through my shoulder plating. I can feel the my metal bracer grow cold enough to burn.
Haah... haah... fuck!
I try again. Once more, I hurl my blade at the prison's iridescent core - and once more those whirling javelins smash away the razor. The core remains untouched... it shimmers in the distorted light as if mocking me. I glare at it and ponder as I scramble over snowfalls and leap over blades of ice. How can I defeat this? I have little experience with the outside world, but at the very least, I do know ice. I've lived the entirety of my short life in the frozen North and - in the few outings I've been permitted, learned that ice is brittle. One good crack, and it shatters. Ice melts under heat. It will weaken, become goopy, watery and useless.
Ice melts under fire.
Magical ice melts under magical fire.
My mind flits to the numerous tattoos which I've painstakingly inscribed into my skin. I... frankly I had drawn so many, I can't remember what spells I carry nor where they are. Some spells I've used before, but most are unknown to me. In the little time I had to prepare, I had simply flipped open a spell tome and drew the corresponding circles for whatever hex looked the most threatening. The magic circles are a method of delayed cast, the mana is consumed and infuses the pattern, biding its time until the circle is activated. Some of the spells I had prepared consumed a tremendous of mana. Others were simpler, more familiar. I had yet to activate any of the tattoos peppering my skin, so I elect to try a spell I am familiar with.
Phew... okay.
I whisper a command under my breath and quickly, I feel a tattoo on my left arm begin to sear terribly against my skin. I'm still running, dodging the great splinters that threaten to pin me to the cold bedrock, but I see a pattern glowing through both the thick armor plating and the Brimstone Robes beneath. I can sense the magic begin to swell and buck - rippling through my flesh and easily melting the thin layer of ice that has formed over my armour. The heat is initially welcome, but almost immediately becomes extreme. It roils against me. I feel my blood starting to boil. I feel my nerves beginning to melt. This power... if I don't direct it outwards, it will implode.
Gah!
Cryogen looms closer to me, those whirling javelins spin like icy sawblades. My back is up against one the sheer cliffsides, and I have little room to dodge or retreat. The ground rumbles and groans beneath the lashing chains. The stones screech terribly as they are split by the airy whips. I flinch as a shard of ice skims my ribs. It snips through my armour, slashes through the fabric, and draws blood - which immediately freezes solid. Another needle launches at me, it shreds through my armour and plunges into my pelvis before pinning me to the stone behind. I hear the bone split, but I don't drop my eye to look. I... I need to focus.
You can do this!
I raise my palm and glare at my faceless enemy. With bated breath and considerable effort I focus to channel the fiery mana in the direction of the floating prison.
*fwoosh*
A flare bursts forth with a great noise. The sound is so loud, and the heat so contrary to the bitter cold that I can scarcely hear nor feel. The flames do not flow smoothly, but rather boom and crackle in a chain combustion. An unbearable heat hits me like a brick wall. Momentarily, everything goes dark in lieu of the burning dance of flame. The shield of icy javelins shatters in the concussive explosions. The lashing chains of wind only fuel the great flames until the plateau is bare of snow, and all of my enemy's blades are a shivering mess of half melted goop on the ground, including the one embedded in my guts. I stumble forward and clutch at the bleeding wound.
Phew... haaah... haah
I pant and shiver as the concentration of ancient magic grows ever more dense. Has destroying the shield freed an even higher concentration of magic into the air? I don't know. But I am certain that this magic is heavy, as dense as steel. Soon enough the pressure will be too great and I'll be extinguished. It feels like a great weight is crushing my ribcage, and I draw my breath as if through a straw. My cloak provides some protection against the corroding magic, but I need to draw my native mana to fuel it. It is something I am unwilling to do, for fear of triggering the entity in my shadow. I cannot face any more enemies at the moment. I'm so overwhelmed, I can scarcely think - much less entertain My Doppleganger. The last thing I need right now are hallucinations and brain-fog. I must finish this quickly, then I can tend to the other maladies in my flesh.
... at this point, defense is a waste of time.
In a risky bid, I throw caution into the wind and abandon all of my defenses to focus on attacking. My Brimflame robes seem to react to my intention, and I feel my vitality draining rapidly from me, further weakening my already battered body. Like a balloon which has lost all its air, I crumble inwards. My lungs can barely draw air. My vision blurs and my limbs tremble with a sudden fatigue. The cold begins to eat me, and I gasp - blindly activating another one of the tattoos splayed across my skin and directing it haphazardly toward the tremendous ice prison. I can hardly think, much less prepare myself for the spell that splits the air like thunder.
*BOOOOM*
*SHATTER*
The sound is incredible and I am expressly aware of my eardrums rupturing with deafening pops. Is... is the spell supposed to be so powerful? Ah, has it used my own life force as fuel? I'm not sure, but I'm aware of the accelerated breakdown in my body. The strain of the icy pressure has weakened my constitution to the point where I feel The Corruption wrecking havoc on my innards. I know what it feels like when my organs fail. I have experienced this very same sensation hundreds of times in The Crimson hell, and I know my time is short. Still, I raise my eyes to watch the arc lightning crash into Cryogen with a tremendous impact. The thick wall of ice shatters, leaving behind only a glowing - skeleton like cube in its wake. What is that floating in its centre? A human figure? Is that, perhaps, the source of Cryogen's power? The Archmag-
(*cough*)
I groan as I feel my lungs begin to dissolve; the organic goop rapidly solidifies in the Sub-Zero temperatures. I... I'm falling to pieces. I'm dying. I'm dying. I've collapsed to my knees and retch - spewing scarlet into the inside of my helmet. It drips down my breastplate from the gap at my throat and freezes there, painting my armor with my innards. I roll to my side and groan as I stand to my feet, astonished that I'm still capable of movement. As I stand straight, a terrifying chill - even colder than that dreadful freezing magic runs down my spine. I feel something familiar crawling on my back. A familiar voice murmurs behind my ear, darkly uttering evil secrets. I feel teeth, slick and moist against the base of my neck. I feel my own amused breath chuckle. A lipless mouth presses up against my jawline.
("muablefpa ned eznalfp oaml")
I tremble in terror. My Doppleganger has awoken, that malicious being that lives in my shadow. I-
*crash*
"No!"
I was distracted. I didn't move in time, and the consequences of that blunder was a great hammer blow to my side. Cryogen's core hurls itself at me, clipping me and easily crushing the brittle bones of my left arm to powder. I whirl with the impact and slump once more to the ground. Full of panic and despair, I croak out an objection to my own impending death. The Doppelgänger simply chuckles at me as The Core whips around and takes aim once more. It hijacks my throat to spew forth a painful laugh as I am bludgeoned by The Archmage's great magic.
Not yet! it can't be the end...
I can't die here. I need to win. I need to live. My vision is failing, writhing blackness creeps out from the corners of my eyes. I can't tell up from down. I can't tell left from right. I'm numb. I can't feel a single thing. Are my nerves gone? I dont know... i don't want to know. I just want to live. I just want to be free. I want to be free!
("Flamma")
I open my mouth to give another command as Cryogen hurtles towards me. I know I can't take another blow. I'm balanced on the precipice between life and death, and it won't take much to plunge me into darkness. Tears slide down my face as I utter the silent words. This spell is dangerous. Volatile. It drank my mana like nothing before as I carved it into my flesh so many days ago. If it backfires, it will most certainly kill me - but I don't dwell on it.
My enemy is upon me. The cold prison - as hard and heavy as steel - rushes upon my collapsed form to crush me to death.
It's the end...
I raise my trembling arm.
Blood drips from between the plates of my armour. The ground beneath my feet is stained red and purple.
A spark bursts from the tip of my finger...
And the heavens are split with radiant hellfire.
Slayer: So you are a soldier?
Hero: So you are a wild beast?
S: I get rid of monsters. You kill men at the command of others.
H: It is forbidden to kill. Therefore all murderers are punished unless they kill in large numbers and to the sound of trumpets.
S:.. I barely understood that and I don't know enough to disagree
H: I admire your honesty
Note: Faze/Hero is different from The Slayer in that he should be able to fight well even when at the very brink of death. Its a little bit unclear here because he's suffering all sorts of sad nonsense - but if this were The Slayer, he would have been incapacited long ago - his limbs snapped off etc... Essentially the Hero is just Slayer improved in terms of resiliance (and other things, which you'll see later)
Big love and kiss review.