Chapter 28 - Wrath
Later - much later, long after the knowledge would have done me any good - I would learn that it was a projected image. A spell of the seventh-tier, that wove smoke and shadow into a distant visage: Something almost, but not quite, real.
No YGGDRASIL Artificer could ever have done this. From the very beginning, their limit had been the sixth tier of magic - A world away from the great secrets that only full casters could ever hope to grasp.
Such was the immutable law of the Nine Worlds, as unbreakable and eternal as a god-sworn oath. It was a pact that would bind them through twelve years of patches and updates, through seven generations of content expansions. From the dizzying heights of a subscription-based service to the sullen, inevitable low of a free-to-play model.
In the end, it would outlast the World Tree itself.
But all that had merely been the prelude.
The Ninth Finger was the now.
"Let him go."
Amid all the horror, I clutched at the single thought that remained, the only thing I knew for real.
The swirling presence of the Ninth Finger grew larger, looming high, looking down on me. Like a stormcloud, flickering with dangerous lightning, building the rotation that threatens a tornado. He tipped his head to the side with insect precision, trailing the black smoke of a funeral pyre.
"No," the Ninth Finger said, at last. "No, I don't think I will."
That bland smile, the cruel twist to his lips, never wavered. He seemed to ghost in and out of solid reality, like a mirage or a spectre - the room's lights seemed to ebb and swell in time to his manifestation, as the buzzing began; A chirring of insect wings.
Past the pressure building in my skull, I risked a glance at Climb. Even through the blowflies gathering on the insides of the window panes - beyond the ghostly blue light of the walls of force - I could see that only Lockmeier's grip kept him upright. The killer's shortsword, held in an unwavering hand, was already welling blood.
"Climb," I said, my voice trying to crack. I fought it down, even as cold dread twisted my guts, as realization blossomed in my aching skull. "Climb!"
A trap. This was a trap - had been a trap from the very beginning - and I'd walked us both into it. I'd brought us here, to this place, right into the very jaws of the vise-
"He can't hear you," the Ninth Finger said. Casually, as if it was a matter of no importance. The substance of his form continued to shift and change, the surface rupturing like the skin on boiling milk; Black vapor welled from the specter-shape, rippling as it flowed back into the whole.
"-No-one can."
My teeth had clenched together, so hard I feared they would crack. "If you hurt him," I began, slowly and precisely, even as I felt acid reflux welling up in my throat. "I'll-"
He frowned. Glanced past me.
The killer dug the blade deeper. A long rivulet of blood streamed down Climb's neck, over his armor. He made no sound, no movement I could see.
"Stop-" I managed, sick nausea churning helplessly in my gut. "Stop cutting him…!"
"He's insurance, that's all. Behave, and he'll live."
I can't quite describe how I felt at that moment. The vile quinine taste of dread, the gut-churning, nauseous shame at what I'd done - And fury, too. Fury, bright and crimson, like a furnace behind my heart.
I forced myself to turn away. Forced Gnosis down, knowing it would do no good.
Not now.
I had to think. I could feel my mind racing, faster than I'd ever known. My gaze darted from the Ninth Finger's spectral shape, to the morbid horrors that breathed him out, their broken-back forms contorted in rigid effort - Trying to make sense of all of this.
Any of this.
Flies swirled through the air, like smoke. It felt like the walls were closing in.
"What…" It came out as a dust-dry rasp. I forced myself to swallow, almost gagging on the foul stench of corruption that hung in the air. Too late, I realized why the air stank of perfume;
"-What do you want…?"
His smile widened. Just a fraction, like a slit pulled at the edges, but it was there.
I'll tell you now: He terrified me. More than Vijar Rajandala, more than Remedios. It took me a moment to realize why.
It wasn't the cruelty. It wasn't even the undead horrors - weeping that foul black oil - he had bound to his will. It was the assurance to him, half-glimpsed behind that lightless smile: Not just confidence, but surety.
The absolute knowledge of his own invincibility.
"A conversation, that's all. Between peers, as they say."
Something in his voice. An undercurrent, as if hinting at a shared joke. Something we both knew. The problem was, I had no idea what it might be.
"All this," I said, disbelievingly. "All this, for me?"
He shrugged. "You're a dangerous man, 'Grandmaster'." the Ninth Finger said. "Circumstances have conspired to place us in opposition, but we don't have to be enemies. Not necessarily."
He made it sound like the most reasonable thing in the world. Like a long-suffering, put-upon friend, finally granted the chance to explain himself. As if I had every reason to hear him out, as Climb's life hung on the edge of a blade.
"Tell me: How much do you know?"
Not enough, I thought. But I couldn't stop myself, the words tumbling out one after another.
"You're a murderer. A trafficker in Black Dust. A slaver. A dealer in human miser-"
He raised a hand, forestalling the rest of my words.
"Just the official story, then. Let's keep things amicable, shall we?"
Amicable. With Climb down and bleeding out. With the exits sealed by hissing, spitting walls of force that crackled with lethal charge. I dragged a breath into my dust-dry lungs, my fingers cramping from clutching Gnosis.
"-What do I call you?" I asked, at last. Anything to break the tension, to have the world make sense once again.
A name. I needed his name. A title, an identifier, I could put to the force that had been pulling the strings all along.
And yet-
In the ruddy glow of the hearthfire, the Ninth Finger was both more and less than human. Polluting the world, just by standing in it.
He looked down, his face in shadow.
"They call me the Vanisher," he said, at last. "Commenter on things past, things to come, and…" A chuckle, low and rich. "All things, really. Butcher, baker, kingmaker. At your service, 'Grandmaster'."
The Vanisher dipped his head, but never took his eyes - not once - off me. There was something drawn about him, his proportions subtly warped - Not a thin man, but one honed down to the core. As if everything extraneous had been pared away, leaving only whiplash speed and gaunt intelligence.
For a moment, I stared at him. Contemplating what he was capable of. Despite the warmth of the room, I could feel cold sweat form, a chill spidering through my nerves.
"You wanted to talk," I said, and thought - Calm, calm. "So talk."
"To business, then." There was a sharpness to his features now, all levity draining away. "I'll keep it simple. I want you out of my way. Sit things out, just for tonight: In return, you'll have all the gold you ever need."
I felt my face twitch. "Really? That's your offer? Gold?"
"Of course. Even here, that's what this is really all about. All things are about money, in the end. Money is everything and anything." I sensed an edge to his voice, one that hadn't been there before. As if it meant something to him, personally. "What were you expecting?"
"I-" I shook my head, disbelievingly. You're insane, I thought, the beginnings of a migraine pulsing at my temples. I was in uncharted territory, now - Plunging, headlong, into the unknown.
"If you think you can buy me-"
The Vanisher's form rippled, shaking as if with laughter. But the cold blue light of his eyes never wavered.
"Buy you? This is no bribe, but a contract: Value given, for value received." He leaned forward, at the very edge of the darkness that brought him. "Two million in gold. That's my offer."
"Two mill-"
Then my brain caught up with my mouth, and my breath snagged in my throat.
Two million.
I wasn't the best at math. But I knew one thing - It was an enormous sum. Three gold coins could feed a family for a month; the take from twice-looted Loyts had been less than a tenth of that.
It was-
Enough to fund a war, twice-over. Enough to save the Holy Kingdom.
And I knew - right then, without a shadow of a doubt - that the Ninth Finger knew it too.
"Think about it. All I ask is that you stand aside. A truce, if you'd prefer: In a few hours, you'll be free to go your way. I give you my word - After tonight, the Nine Fingers will trouble Re-Estize no more. In fact, you'll never hear from us again."
That got my attention. Not his words, but the way he said them - Quietly, without bluster or bombast. A conviction, too effortless to be feigned. I could feel he meant it, somehow: That he wasn't lying about that. At all.
And yet-
There was something maddeningly oblique about him, a sense that he knew more than I could ever hope to understand.
"Peace in our time, Grandmaster. What do you say?"
The world seemed to darken around me. Perfume, smoke and the stench of death, swirling like incense. The hum of the force walls droning on, at the very edge of my hearing. Serenely, like they had all the time in the world.
The ache in my skull was worse than ever, now. It felt like my nose was bleeding,
Climb, I thought. I've got to-
And then, with a lurch: The others-
Lady Aindra's talisman was in my pouch; I couldn't reach for it, not now, not in front of him. But I had to warn them - That they were walking headlong into disaster. That this effort, this great ordeal, was doomed...
-Because of me.
I had to play along. Had to learn all I could from this. I could feel my mind spinning in a tightening spiral, looking for a way out, not finding one.
"How-" I shook my head. Playing for time. Playing dumb. "There's no way you have that much. You could never…"
A hand rose, trailing fog like its own shadow; I tensed, but the Ninth Finger merely pointed to the side, at an end-table. "Two hundred thousand, in polished stones. A sign of good faith." Was that a smile I saw? Or a sneer? It could have been either, hidden in the anonymous folds of smoke-light.
I ached to turn. To look over my shoulder, at the frozen tableau beyond the ghostly shimmer of the walls. But I knew that it'd do no good-
And, in truth, I didn't dare to take my eyes off him.
I shuffled sideways, sword in hand. My questing fingers encountered a flat leather case, almost invisible in the uneven illumination. One-handed, I fumbled it open; Like tossed dice, like glittering trinkets, gems spilled forth with the dry scatter of sifting gravel.
Emerald. Sapphires. Diamonds. Even here, they glowed with an inner fire of their own - the smallest was the size of my thumbnail. The largest, the size of an acorn. I stared down at them, at the double-handful of wealth laid out against the soft black leather of the case, the chestnut-brown finish of the tabletop, and thought-
He's serious.
I wasn't equipped to deal with something like this. I knew, instinctively, that this went far beyond myself: This could decide the fate of Re-Estize. The fate of the Holy Kingdom.
Here. Now.
The moment hung in the air, stretching out into infinity. Some distant, petty part of me wondered why time seemed to have stopped. Where were the other guards? The men on the roof, with their crossbows and daggers; That, and the 'Viscount's' protectors, though perhaps they'd never been here at all.
"And Climb?"
I knew, right then, that it was a mistake. That it was as good as telling the Vanisher that Climb was the chink in my armor. The best thing I could have done for him, the smartest thing, was to treat him like he was nothing-
But I'd always been a terrible liar.
"We'll blank out his short-term memory. Cut him loose." A sliver of white teeth showed through the enveloping shadow. "Consider it a favor, if you like."
I stared. Through the twitching firelight, through the shifting shadows.
And at last, I said - "Why?"
"I don't want him remembering anything about what unfolded here."
"Not that. Why me?" I met the Ninth Finger's gaze, searching for some hint of emotion in that ice-blue glow. "Why all this?"
Silence.
I could feel those eyes boring into me, the insect calculation beneath the facade of amiability. Weighing the odds. Considering just how much to tell me.
The Vanisher's shoulders lifted in the slightest shrug.
"Because I know you, 'Grandmaster'," he said. Casually, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "The two of us, we're the same: That's why you're here. That's why I decided we had to talk."
A lurch, in the core of my being. A flicker of premonition, the sense of something uncanny.
"We're nothing alike," I said, but even as I did, it felt wrong. Like I was missing something: the shape of some revelation, slipping through my mind like smoke. "If that's the best you have, you're wasting your time."
I drew myself up to my full height, Gnosis clenched in my fists. I fought down the urge to turn, to check on Climb; I couldn't afford to show weakness, not now. Praying all the while that my bluff wouldn't be called-
"I've heard the stories. I know what you've been doing, to this city - I've seen it. If you think I'm about to leave it to you...To hollow it out-"
I've never liked being coerced. Not now, and certainly not then. It brought out the worst in me - the bleak defiance I'd known only once before. But beneath the bitten-off words, the voice I fought to keep level, I knew - with a certainty that defied logic - there was more.
The Vanisher returned my gaze, like for like. It was, somehow, like staring into the eyeholes of a mask. A mask that gave nothing away, except for that almost-frown. Not quite disappointed, but thoughtful. Recalibrating.
Considering his next move.
"-Why believe anything you say?"
Pressure. Like a vise.
Come on, I thought, my eyes stinging, aching as I fought the urge to blink. Come on, come on-
"Give me a reason," I pressed. "Just one. Why should I trust you?"
The Vanisher considered this. Head tilted to the side, lips pursed, form rippling but never quite dissolving in the invisible breeze that swirled through the body-warm heat of the room. Sparks ambled across the force walls, flickering arcs of charge, each slow circuit marking the passage of seconds.
And then, in three simple words, he told me.
"-I'm from Earth."
I didn't even hear the words, not really: their true meaning was too large for my mind to gather in, all at once.
It began as numbness - then shock, cold and all-consuming. I could feel the blood drain from my face, a fever-heat burning beneath my skin. The triphammer of my pulse in my ears, the hoarse rasp of breath drawn into lungs that ached for air.
I could force out only a strangled whisper. "Earth...?"
As if I'd never heard the word before. As if it had no meaning.
But Kelart's voice was in my head now, repeating:
-ded Prophet, then this...Ninth Finger. Obstacles, at every turn-
-in the same year, no less. What are the odds?
My thoughts span. Followed that echo all the way to the conclusion-
Perhaps that is the way of things; Darkness waxes strong, and light rises to meet it-
As though from some impossible distance, I saw it all. Like some veil had lifted, the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place.
"-You." Suddenly, everything made sense. The meteoric rise of the Nine Fingers. The puzzling, inexplicable way their reach had spread, in the span of a few months - Like a malignant cancer, out of all control. "It's you. It's been you all along!"
Kelart had been wrong. There was no greater design, no grand balancing of the scales. No looming eucatastrophe of good and evil.
Just us, hewn from the same stone, cast across the world as carelessly as hail.
While I'd been fighting for my life-
-all this time-
While Wolfgunblood had been saving E-Rantel from annihilation-
All this time, the Vanisher had been free to do as he wished.
And he could do anything. The darker parts of anything.
He'd killed over a hundred men in a single night. Funneled countless more into misery or death, the slow strangulation of addiction. Made commodities out of people, to be used up and discarded.
Like our world. That was the shock of it, the part that hit me like a slap in the face. Why all this had felt so familiar, somehow: The addicts, pale and twitching and semi-permanently divorced from reality. The whores and the thieves and the predators...
He'd brought it here, with him.
And all I could think was-
"Why?" My breath had gone hot and harsh in my throat. "Why, for fuck's sake…?"
The Vanisher's hands opened, still at his sides. For a moment - just a moment - he looked gently astonished that I would ask such a thing.
"How else would I save Re-Estize?"
I stared. Of all the things I could have expected, I wasn't expecting that.
In the blank silence that followed, he went on.
"You've seen Re-Estize for yourself. Tell me: Are you happy with the kingdom as it is? The famine, the poverty, the misery…People dying of hunger, just a mile away from Ro Lente. The river running with filth. Half a million men, freezing to death in the cold - Fighting a pointless war, so their husk of a King can cling to what he calls his. All that, because of some bastards born to privilege. Does that sound familiar to you?"
There was heat in his voice, now. I sensed that this wasn't a lie, an evasion: Whatever this was, he believed in it.
"But you've made things worse," I pressed, taking an involuntary step forward. "You and the Nine Fingers-"
"The rot was always there," the Vanisher said. Dismissively, as if he'd heard this before. "All I've done is to use the tools at hand." Actinic light flickered, within those cold blue eyes. "But it doesn't have to be this way. We can change that. I can change that."
For the first time, he drew a breath. The smoke of his form rippled, seeking coherence.
"-It's too late for our world, but this is a second chance. For all of us. The kingdom can be made whole: We can put power in the hands of the people, where it belongs." His hand swept through the air, like a blade. "All Re-Estize needs is a just ruler. One willing to do the right thing."
"That-" I fought down my first words. Tried again. "That's your plan? 'Down with the King? Liberty, Equality and Justice for all?'" I lowered my voice, keeping it steady. "This isn't a game. Millions could die. More."
"They didn't have us." Solid, as unshakeable as a steel bastion. "There's no-one - no-one - like us. No-one who can do what we can. Think of the good we can do-"
I was out of my depth, and plunging deeper into unknown waters by the moment. What the Vanisher was saying - It made my blood run cold. It was too vast for me to comprehend, too much; All I knew was…
"Things are different here," I said. Carefully, now. "The people won't want this. They won't let you do this. Listen to yourself: Overthrow the nobility? With the Annual War on the way? That would mean the end of everything. You think they'd listen to you?"
He nodded, so agreeably it caught me off-guard. "I'm aware of that, yes. The first hurdle - But not insurmountable. It could be done, with the right King on the throne...Someone the nobles would obey, until they became obsolete. Someone to maintain stability."
The air shimmered. I strained to hear, but - over the hum of the barrier - the patient drip-drip-drip of Climb's blood was inaudible.
"Yes, there would be sacrifices; I won't deny that. But the outcome, what we'd achieve by doing this...It's worth it. It's worth everything."
The Vanisher fell silent. We stared at each other, across the narrow distance.
Then-
"Grandmaster," the Vanisher said. Softly intense, now. "-I'm asking you to act according to your conscience. To shape the course of a nation."
His eyes burned into me, watching my slightest motion. Like a specimen beneath a microscope, perhaps. I could feel my thoughts chasing each other through my mind, round and round -
"Under your direction, you mean?"
"As partners. As equals. I'm offering you the chance to make things right - Can't you see that?"
I did. Oh, how I did.
There was no question that he meant it: Something about my presence had urged the Vanisher to unburden himself. To confess to the sole other person, in all of the world, who could understand him.
I knew, too, that what he was planning - It would have repercussions that could stretch into forever.
I had only the vaguest idea of what he'd set in motion. But the results could be catastrophic. It could mean a war worse than the one that waited in the wings, a conflagration that could engulf both Re-Estize and the Empire. It could destroy...everything.
And the true horror of it was, the Vanisher knew that. I think he considered that to be an acceptable price to pay, just as he considered all things that had led up to this point to be necessary. What else had he done?
What hadn't he told me?
Perhaps it was the coward's choice, making no decision at all. Maybe he was right, and I was wrong.
But for what the Vanisher had done - for what he intended to do - he had to be stopped.
A half-dozen possibilities flashed through my mind, in that moment. All considered, all discarded: I knew that there was no point in trying to disassemble. The Vanisher would see right through any lie I attempted, with those cold blue eyes of his.
"Choose, Samuel." A pause. "Choose to stand aside, right now, or to make things right. I would hate for it to be any other way."
Lower, at the very edge of hearing: "-I would hate for it to be without you."
Samuel. That jarred me, even though I'd thought I'd braced myself for it.
What would my brother have done? Knowing what I did, what would he have chosen?
I didn't know. All I could do was to act as I thought he would have. To do the right thing, even if that was no longer clear.
I reached out. With my hand, and with my mind. Motes of light swirled, like flecks of silver borne on the wind, the weight of the falcon-winged helm settling in my grasp. Before I could change my mind, I raised it, and lowered it over my head. Heard the click as it clamped in place, sealing with a slight hiss.
No words. The intent was all.
Through the visor-slit, I saw the Vanisher shake his head. Heard the grave whisper in my skull, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"Stupid," he said. "So very stupid."
His gaze swept past me, and I felt the cold chill of premonition twist my guts into knots.
"Succulent - Make an example."
And the killer cut Climb's throat.
Blood sprayed. That was what I remembered - the wet thump of the blade punching into the meat of Climb's throat. Slicing outwards, cutting through jugular and windpipe. The robust edge of Succulent's shortsword carved through the flesh of his neck, opening up his jugular vein with the ease of a razor through silk.
The crimson drizzle hissed and spat, flashing to vapor where it struck the crackling barrier. I flinched back, my heart lurching, twisting my guts towards vomiting-
Climb died with a gurgle, and Succulent let his body fall forward with the complete collapse of a corpse, and I had no breath left to scream.
Even then - as the first shock of sheer uncomprehending disbelief washed over me like a wave - all I could think was: This can't be happening.
This has to be some kind of dream.
But already, I knew.
I stared. And I stared. Trying to process it - Trying to understand. It was too big, too much; Caught in the muddle of what was and what had been, the surreal transition from one to the next utterly without warning.
He lay there. Face-down, the blood draining out of him. Spreading, a dark arterial pool. Daegal - that priceless, useless blade - just beyond the reach of his clawing hand.
I think I might have uttered his name.
But the world had lost its soundtrack, had gone silent as the grave.
The red crept into my vision, from where it had been waiting all along. As if it had all the time in the world.
It was too dark here. Too dark everywhere: thick and blinding, choking like the black smoke that swirled and coiled. I could feel the howl welling up inside me, a cold unalloyed fury that turned my heart to a thermonuclear furnace, that seized my throat in the clench of a white-hot fist-
Fury seized me. Fury - Grief. Outrage. All-consuming hatred. I could hear it - the sizzle in my blood, the thunder in my head that drowned out all thought.
Too late.
Too late for anything, except this.
Gnosis rose up and over my right shoulder, and came down in a two-handed swing. Like an extension of my arms, as thought and deed became one; A mere accessory of my ferocity.
Before, my blow had ricocheted from the keening wall of force, the answering jolt powerful enough to stagger me, to snatch me from my feet.
But this time, I held nothing back.
The physical force of the blow, delivered with all the strength I could summon, was entirely besides the point. The essence of the cage of force and the cleaving blade of Gnosis were in utter, irreconcilable conflict. Sword and barrier tried to occupy the same space, and reality simply could not bear it.
There was a sound. Straight out of hell, there was a sound - the universe screaming as it tore. The screeching whine hummed into my hands, up my arms, to shiver in my chest and buzz in my teeth. Lightless sparks crackled across my mythril plate. Foetid energy smoked from Gnosis' edge, a furious, seething incandescence spilling forth from the point of contact-
But I didn't care. Because each second brought me closer to Succulent. Closer to his death.
I focused on the red. Clung to my rage, as garlands of charge snaked along my limbs.
I had to make them pay.
Pay, and pay, and pay-
Through the blaze, I saw Succulent's dead eyes widen. Saw him flinch back, as that piercing shriek - the inarticulate pain of reality rending - seared through the air. Saw him clutch at his bleeding ears, blood welling from his nose and eyes, the terrible wail rising, rising, until it transcended sound…
That was the moment.
The moment he realized the mistake he'd just made.
The moment he knew he was about to die.
I could see it. Call it prophecy, if you like: The absolute knowledge that I would cleave through the shields. Through both of his arms.
And cut him into a million pieces.
I was so focused on that, so utterly consumed by that single flaring image, that I had forgotten the other threat. Too far from here to be harmed, but close enough to strike.
Dimly, through the blaze of light, through the blood fever - I heard…
"Maximize Magic: Blade Barrier."
The air became knives.
There were dozens of them. Hundreds. Whirling blades, flashing and rotating endlessly around a single point. Chrome and steel and silver, a hurricane's fury driven by the wind.
They enveloped me, slicing and shearing and cutting, with the hideous sound of some industrial engine - Churning around me, the mad light glinting crazily off the swirling metal blades, each one honed to impossible sharpness. They scoured deep lines in my armor, orange sparks flying as the awful shriek of metal-on-metal filled my world.
They ripped across me. Ripped into me, a storm of howling monomolecular discs. There was no defense from the blizzard of razor-rounds, only pain; the blinding, tearing agony of countless shallow cuts-
Blood spurted. Something razored across my thigh, dark blood welling up from the slits of my armor. Something sheared the top of my ear off, as I reeled back; They were all around me, shredding me into nothing, the dense, unified swarm chewing at me, until the bleak pain drowned out all thought.
Away-
And through all this, I could see only one thing. The Vanisher's coiling form, one fist clenched around something that smoked like a coal in his grip - Red, to the welling blue light of his manifestation's pitiless eyes.
I wrenched myself towards him. Twisting my body, pain clawing at my lungs as wounds reopened, as my ribs crackled, staggering through the savage blades, swinging Gnosis with blind fury. More blades gnawed at me from behind, shrieking against the mirrored finish of my armor, gashing me open, flooding my senses with fire and fear-
I needed to hit him. To hurt him. Anything, to make the pain stop - to share a single iota of the agony that I felt.
"Rrrrrraaagggghhhhhhhhhhhh-"
Vaguely, somewhere beyond pain - As the lenses of my helm filled up with blood - I realized I was screaming, too.
Gnosis licked out. Faster than ever before. The cutting blades tumbled away in its wake, as the sword hissed towards the Vanisher's shadowy form.
And passed through.
A trick. An illusion. He'd never been here, not truly. I knew that.
But his proxies, the horrors that had called him forth - They were flesh.
The thing that had been the Viscount - that wore the Viscount's face - screamed foully as I hacked it in half. It ripped in two, clotted fluids gushing from the hideous rent, desiccated organs tumbling forth like blackened fruits. Staggering, half-blind, I raised Gnosis to swing at the other-
The walls lit up. Abominable, intertwined symbols flared to life. The burning symbols writhed, like snakes, forming one unholy rune after another, as if written in liquid flame. The soul-blasting meaning of them blistered my flesh - I cried out, my eyes burning, as the blood vessels in my nose and throat opened, a searing white agony flooding my being.
It came from everywhere and nowhere at once. A consuming agony, a pain so intense I could no longer stand.
It felt like the inside of my armor had turned into spikes. Jagged spikes, stabbing every inch of me, from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head. Like someone had lit a fire inside my marrow.
I hit the ground. Rolled, senseless. Convulsing, like a dog with nightmares.
The chopping blades rained down on my unguarded back. Breaking plate, shredding flesh, biting into bone.
My legs went numb, without feeling. I saw the world through blood, then only blood.
From a million miles away, over the grinding of metal, over the sound of my own screams - Enough that I felt the edges of my mouth begin to tear - I heard:
"Over Magic: Void Or-"
No.
I refused to be beaten.
Not by him.
Something tore in my shoulder, as I wrenched Gnosis up. Raised it, like a long knife, slipping on my own blood, a whirring blade flaying the flesh of my knuckles to the bone. I drew a breath, a breath that burned and tasted of copper and iron, and rasped out-
"Surge-"
The sword plunged down.
Beneath me, the wall of force shattered. It cracked and broke with the sound of smashing glass. Sharp chips of energy flew into the air, as Gnosis ploughed through, and into the stone below.
A jagged white gash tore across the ground, and up the walls. It spread and split, faster and wider and longer. Cold white light flared, alien and sterile, spiderweb flaws skittering outward, fracturing beyond the point of impact.
The power surged through me. From the very core of my being. Down my arms, through my hands, into the hilt.
-Through the blade.
The explosion swept the world away.
A second of silence.
A nuclear blink.
A false dawn, brighter than the sun.
The expanding blossom of yellow flame mushroomed into the sky, and it rained burning ash for two blocks to come.
Next: Downfall