A/n: As always, I want to say thank you to everyone still reading my stories, especially those that have taken time to leave me their thoughts. This chapter was one of the harder chapters I've written due to wanting it to feel genuine, as a result I've also attempted to change my writing style a bit in this chapter and moving forward, hopefully you will find it to be an improvement!
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"What happened here…?" Rasler asked, his voice barely a whisper as he surveyed the desolate scene from the outcropping near Alexandria's valley. The relentless rain had finally ceased after an arduous day's journey, adding an eerie stillness to the air. The path thus far had been strangely uneventful, with only a handful of feeble monsters encountered along the way, easily dispatched without exerting much effort. Yet, something had seized his attention an hour earlier, casting a shadow over the tranquility.
Despite the clearing skies above and the serenity encompassing the surroundings, a tempestuous thunderstorm raged in the distance, several miles to his right. An immense lightning bolt streaked across the heavens, shaking the ground beneath his feet. Normally, Rasler would dismiss it as another occurrence of the peculiar storms that had become all too familiar, but this time was different. Moments later, an inferno blazed into the sky with such intensity that even from his vantage point, he could feel the searing heat permeated the air around him. A silent oath escaped his lips; this was not something he could disregard. Regardless of the outcome, he had to confront whatever awaited him. Determined, he veered from his intended path and cautiously made his way toward the epicenter of the disturbance.
With each step forward, the thunderous explosions grew louder, punctuated by recurring flashes of lightning, as if nature itself were engaged in a furious battle. But as Rasler finally crested the outcropping that had concealed the valley he believed to be the source, an oppressive silence enveloped him. Below, a once-thriving expanse, rich with an abundance of flora, fauna, and life, lay transformed into a desolate wasteland—a haunting testament to a prolonged and savage conflict. Patches of ashen water pooled on the barren soil, creating macabre trails akin to somber black cobwebs. At the heart of the devastation, a solitary oak tree stood sentinel beside a colossal, cracked boulder. Its majestic form stripped bare, the remnants of charred branches still emitted wisps of smoke, a grim reminder of the flames that had engulfed it.
"What kind of power could have caused this?" Rasler wondered aloud, his voice barely above a whisper, as he descended the loose embankment. The stark contrast between the desolate valley and the lush surroundings was jarring, but it was the lingering remnants of magic in the air that truly captivated his attention. Coming to a halt, he surveyed the area, his gaze sweeping over the charred landscape.
However, his focus soon shifted as he noticed something peculiar. Midway to his destination, small piles of ash scattered the ground. Intrigued, he knelt down and cautiously sifted through the warm residue. The dryness of the ash, despite the dampness of the surroundings, confirmed the intensity of the flames that had ravaged the area. As he examined the ash more closely, he made a grim discovery—fragments of bone and tiny shards of metal mingled within, testament to the ferocity of the inferno.
Rasler's mind raced, trying to comprehend the magnitude of the power that had unleashed such devastation. The flames had been fierce, that much was evident, but to what degree? What kind of magic had caused this cataclysmic event? The questions echoed in his mind, fueling his determination to uncover the truth and find the source of this unfathomable power.
Faintly, a weak cough emanated from behind the cracked boulder, jolting Rasler from his thoughts. Instantly abandoning his interest in the dry ash, he swiftly rose to his feet, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. With cautious determination, he advanced towards the source of the sound, his footsteps deliberate and purposeful. As he circled around the boulder, what he beheld evoked a deep grimace upon his face.
On the rain-soaked ground, a lone woman lay motionless, her blonde hair matted and tangled. The tattered remnants of her dark outfit, once a testament to its high-quality craftsmanship, now bore the marks of wear and tear accumulated through countless travels. The fabric, once sleek and rich, was now frayed and marred by the hardships she had endured. Fresh and gaping wounds peeked through the torn fabric, revealing the toll that her journey had taken on her now broken body. While mud and ash coated her skin, blood mingled with the rainwater, forming rivulets that traced paths across her pale complexion.
Rasler, though possessing a deep connection to magic, had never been an expert in its intricate arts. He had only managed to grasp the most fundamental spells, lacking the finesse and mastery of a true sorcerer. Instead, it was the sword strapped to his back and a faithful companion whose name had faded into the recesses of his memory, that had bestowed upon him the knowledge of a few mystical sword techniques.
But as he gazed upon the woman's broken form, the consequences of his limitations wer not lost on him. None of the abilities he had acquired would be of any use in this dire moment. Even if he were to muster every ounce of his magical essence, it would, at best, grant her a fleeting extension of life—a mere hour or two against the inevitable tide.
A flicker of frustration mixed with desperation danced in Rasler's eyes as he knelt beside the woman, a somber presence in the relentless downpour. He gently brushed a strand of damp hair away from her face, his touch tender and filled with an unspoken empathy. Though a stranger to him, she had become a vessel of his compassion, a symbol of his own suffering he could not alleviate.
"Please..." she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely audible over the crashing rain. She made a feeble attempt to lift her arm, only to have it fall back to the ground helplessly. Rasler's eyes met hers, and he saw the unfocused emptiness in her gaze. A weary smile tugged at his lips. "I'm sorry... but I can't heal your wounds," he confessed, his voice laced with regret as he pulled his knife from his belt, ready to put an end to her suffering.
Something sparked within her eyes at his words, a glimmer of comprehension amidst the haze of pain. With renewed determination, she managed to lift her arm, reaching out weakly toward him. Out of pity or surprise, Rasler couldn't discern, but he found himself kneeling beside her, his hand gently enveloping hers. "Please..." she coughed, blood staining her words.
Watching her struggle to hold on desperately to the little bit of life she had left wasn't easy for Rasler to stomach. If only he had made it there sooner, he might have been able to do something to change her inevitable fate. As it stood, all that he could offer her was an end to her suffering. Quietly and quickly, he moved the knife to her throat. "No..." she protested; her fingers gently squeezing his hand. "Please... Listen." It wasn't a cry for mercy or a plea for a swift end. Her voice held a determination that demanded his attention. He hesitated for a moment and as her desperate gaze pierced his, his grip on the knife loosened and he lowered it hesitantly. If she had endured such suffering for the sake of her words, then he would honor her silent sacrifice by heeding her.
With a steady breath, Rasler released his grip on the blade completely, keeping it within reach but no longer poised to bring an end. He settled beside her, his gaze fixed on her face, ready to listen to her words, to receive the knowledge she deemed important enough to endure this harrowing plight.
Knowing that it was too late to change his mind now, Rasler made a swift decision. He mustered the limits of his magical ability, casting the only healing spell he knew upon the woman. He hoped that this act would grant her a brief respite, enough strength to convey what weighed heavily upon her heart. Though it was true he possessed the means to fully restore her with the power of the stone, he hesitated, aware of the grave consequences it would entail. The toll of his previous decision, using the stone on the tailed boy, had already begun to manifest, burdening him and leaving him with an uncertain future.
As if attuned to his inner turmoil, the woman's voice gained a hint of strength, fortified by his healing magic. Her words, though tinged with pain, carried an unwavering resolve. "I know I'm going to die... and that's okay." Her blood-streaked face bore a mixture of anguish and sorrow, yet devoid of regret. She attempted a bitter laugh, interrupted by the searing pain. Rasler understood the unfinished sentence, her unspoken dreams and aspirations. It took her a moment to collect herself, to regain composure before she continued with a renewed determination. "That's not important... all that matters is that I finally did it... I did what I promised everyone I would do... so, hopefully now there's a chance."
Perplexed by her cryptic words, Rasler struggled to comprehend her intentions. The impending veil of death draped over her, blurring the line between reality and delusion. Uncertain of how to respond, he withheld his questions, opting for silent solidarity. Seated beside her, he patiently awaited her next words.
"I..." she began once more, her voice trembling with a mix of vulnerability and fear. Even Rasler, who was but a stranger to the woman, could see the raw desperation in her eyes, a plea for her efforts and the turmoil she had suffered to not be in vain. "I couldn't fix everything on my own... No matter how hard I tried... and I've tried... I've tried so hard... Gods, I've... Please don't let this all be for nothing!" Her sobs wracked her frail frame, a release of the anguish she had carried.
With a heavy sigh, Rasler found his voice. "What is it you wish for me to do?" His question hung in the air, a conduit for her to unburden herself. And so, with every ounce of strength she possessed, she poured her heart out to him. Emotion dripped from every word, genuine and profound. As he knelt beside her, he listened attentively, fully aware of the sincerity that resonated through her narrative. It was undeniable. And when she concluded, leaving him with a single favor to fulfill, he didn't hesitate. He promised her, without a shred of doubt, that he would do all he could to see it through. He understood the importance of his commitment, for she deserved nothing less.
The woman's voice wavered once more, weakened by the passage of time. Her grip on him slackened, her eyes growing distant again. Yet, Rasler held onto her hand, refusing to let go even in the face of his own helplessness to comfort her. She posed a question, one that pierced through the silence. "What's... going to happen now?" Her voice was barely a whisper, fading into the abyss. "Will I... see them again?"
Silence enveloped the space between them, words failing to bridge the gap. Rasler's heart ached for her, for the fear and loneliness she confessed. As he knelt there, witnessing the woman's agony and hearing her pleas, a heavy burden settled upon his shoulders. He understood that whatever decision he made would be his alone to bear the consequences of. Time seemed to stretch as the severity of his choices all but consumed him. Should he remain by her side, allowing the candle of her life to slowly burn out, or should he take action now and end her suffering?
In that pivotal moment, with a conflicted heart, Rasler knew there was only one path before him. He could not bear to watch her endure any longer. With a mixture of sorrow and resolve, he reached a conclusion. It was the right thing to do, even if it carried a heavy toll.
Finally, he rose to his feet, his legs unsteady beneath him. Emotions churned within him, a whirlwind of doubt and regret. What had he just done? Had he let his emotions get the better of him?
Staggering backward, he retraced his steps, his mind in disarray. The echoes of the woman's voice reverberated within him, mingling with his own doubts and insecurities. The path ahead seemed uncertain, the dire consequences of his decision looming over him like dark clouds.
As Rasler moved onward he knew that the choices he had made would shape the course of his journey. There was no turning back now, for he had taken a step into a realm of consequences that would challenge him in ways he could not yet fathom. As he cautiously rounded the boulder lost in thought, his eyes widened in disbelief and concern. The once scattered mounds of ash had vanished, as if they had never existed, leaving only one mound towering before him. Its presence filled the air with an ominous aura that emanated from its dark form. The uneasiness in the air thickened, suffusing everything with an unsettling dread. Without hesitating, Rasler drew his sword, its blade glimmering faintly with a preternatural light. His grip tightened as he watched the mound shift and transform, taking on a shape that sent a chill coursing through his veins.
"What manner of devilry is this?" Rasler whispered, his voice laden with a mix of awe and trepidation. A growl, eerily demonic, emerged from the newly formed entity. He debated whether to strike first, to forestall whatever calamity it might bring. But time betrayed him, slipping away in the blink of an eye. Like shards of shattered glass, the ash coalesced, reforming into a humanoid figure. Its features, though vaguely feminine, were marred by deep cracks that snaked across its obsidian surface. Behind those shattered fragments, a tempestuous storm of crimson roiled, an unfathomable power contained within. Sparks of raw energy danced and smoke wisped from the cracks, hinting at the entity's malevolence.
"That pitiful mortal... may have broken this vessel... but no mortal can conquer my limitless energy," it spoke, its voice devoid of life, chilling Rasler to his very core.
A flicker of hope faded within his heart. If the woman had faced this abomination with her formidable magic and still failed to inflict serious harm, his prospects grew increasingly bleak. The entity lifted a dark hand to the sky, beginning an incantation that undoubtedly spelled disaster if he wasn't careful. Uncertain of the spell it intended to unleash, he knew he wouldn't be able to reach it in time for a preemptive strike. With grim determination, he braced himself to withstand the forthcoming assault. The incantation reached its crescendo, and the entity uttered a single word that struck dread into Rasler's very being: Ultima.
Gritting his teeth, Rasler braced himself against his sword, determined to intercept the incoming spell. As the air crackled with impending doom, a deafening boom heralded the onslaught of blood-red energy raining down from the sky. Desperation surged through him as he strained against the powerful barrage, screaming in defiance. His blade absorbed the impact, quivering under the relentless assault. The force of the spell slammed him backward, his body crashing onto the unforgiving ground. Yet, he clung to his sword, refusing to let it slip from his grasp, knowing that its loss would spell his doom. The struggle, though fleeting, felt like an eternity, pushing him to the limits of his strength.
Just as Rasler felt his resolve waver, the spell abruptly ceased, replaced by a guttural scream of anguish that pierced the air. Gasping for breath, he scrambled to regain his footing, his eyes fixed on the Fiend. Dark energy erupted from the cracks in its form, uncontrollable and against its will. It had lost control over its own power, Rasler concluded, seizing the opportunity before him. Without hesitation, he took the risk, surging forward toward the Fiend with his sword.
Dodging the blasts that erupted in his direction, he pressed onward, his body bearing the scars of near misses. With relentless determination, he closed the distance, his heart pounding in his chest. Finally, within arm's length of the Fiend, he struck, driving the tip of his sword into its chest with all the strength he could muster. For a breathless moment, dread clawed again at his senses, fearing that his strike had been in vain. He could almost sense the Fiend's mocking grin, silently questioning his futile attempt. But then, a deep rumble resonated through the hilt of his blade.
"Oh gods..." Rasler muttered, his realization mingling with a surge of fear. The rest of the Fiend's body shattered into oblivion, leaving behind a pulsating red orb of magical energy. His sword remained firmly lodged within it. Before he could fully comprehend the impending consequences, the energy within the orb exploded outward, unleashing a cataclysmic blast that sent Rasler hurtling through the air. Darkness swallowed his vision as his body crashed against the ground.
