Squelch
Wet sound of boots pressing into sodden ground followed by a gleaming light on a blade surface.
“Graaaah!” Sir Francis grunted, his sword cleaving cleanly through a ghoul, splitting it in half. He moved with calculated precision, narrowly evading another ghoul’s swipe from his side.
“Hah!” he exclaimed, adjusting his stance as his blade arced through the air. In an instant, a ghoul’s arm was severed, flying off into the darkness. Yet, the creature remained undeterred, lunging toward him with its remaining arm.
Sir Francis responded with a swift kick to its head, sending the ghoul sprawling onto its back. But the respite was brief. Another ghoul rushed at him, its grotesque maw stretched wide, ready to bite.
“Shit!” Sir Francis cursed, his grip tightening on his sword. Planting his feet firmly, he propelled himself forward in one fluid motion. His blade flashed upward, severing the ghoul’s arm before slicing across its face, leaving a gaping wound.
As the ghoul stumbled from the force of its own momentum, Sir Francis twisted his body to avoid a direct collision. The creature screeched, collapsing to the ground. Without hesitation, he raised his sword high and brought it down with precision.
Splat!
Dark blood sprayed from the ghoul’s corpse, pooling at Sir Francis’s feet. Panting, he straightened, his gaze sweeping the battlefield. The bodies of fallen ghouls lay scattered around him.
“Finally,” he muttered, a rare hint of relief escaping his lips as he steadied his breathing.
A ghoul squealed beside him—the one he had kicked earlier. Without hesitation, Sir Francis raised his sword and drove it into the creature’s face. It twitched once, then stilled.
“Right,” he muttered, juggling his sword to his other hand as he took a step forward. His gaze locked on the suspended form of the Demon Lord Alastair's summoned body. “It’s time to end this,” he said resolutely.
But just as he moved, the corpses of the fallen ghouls around him began to twitch violently. Dark, serpentine roots burst from the ground, wrapping themselves around the bodies like coiling snakes.
“What the hell?” Sir Francis muttered, eyes narrowing in disbelief as he traced the source of the roots. They sprawled outward from the shadow beneath the suspended summoned body.
With startling speed, the roots dragged the ghouls' corpses together, clumping them in front of the summoned body. The tendrils snaked over the pile, twisting and stitching the mangled bodies into one horrifying form.
The grotesque entity took shape—a massive, undefined humanoid figure standing roughly four meters tall. Its body was an amalgamation of ghouls, their twisted forms held together by the roots acting as sinewy threads. Long, jagged roots protruded from its arms like crude, makeshift weapons. Several ghoul heads jutted out from its torso, held in place by roots or impaled upon them.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sir Francis exclaimed, frustration flashing across his face as he adjusted his stance, bracing for a fight.
The abomination loomed over him, its massive shadow casting an oppressive weight on the battlefield. Sir Francis gripped his sword tightly, sweat beading on his forehead as he prepared to confront the monster.
“Oh come on!” he growled, frustration mixing with determination. I don’t have time for this, he thought, his mind racing.
The creature's many heads screeched in unison, each producing its own discordant wail. The cacophony was bone-chilling, an eerie blend of anguish and malice that reverberated throughout the cave.
Without warning, the monstrous entity lunged forward, its grotesque arms swinging wildly, ready to crush Sir Francis.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Sir Francis cursed, darting backward just in time to avoid the initial strike.
Abruptly, the sharp roots protruding from the creature's arm coiled and clumped together, forming a single, deadly point. With alarming speed, it thrust its arm upward. Sir Francis, still regaining his footing, parried the attack with his sword. The clash sent a jarring shock through his arm, the sheer force of the impact forcing his blade upward and leaving his body exposed.
The pointed tip of the creature’s root struck his side, tearing through his inner leather shirt.
“Gurgh!” Sir Francis grunted, staggering from the blow. Gritting his teeth, he retaliated with a swift downward slash, his blade biting deep into the creature’s arm. The monster screeched in pain, reeling slightly from the attack.
Its response was immediate. The creature swung its arm like a whip, aiming for Sir Francis’s head. Acting on instinct, Sir Francis brought his sword up, using the blade as a shield.
The impact was far stronger than he anticipated. The force of the strike sent him flying through the air, slamming him hard against the jagged cave wall.
“Garghh!” Sir Francis cried out, crumpling to the ground in a heap. His sword slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor beside him.
Gasping for breath, he pushed himself onto his hands and knees. A sharp, searing pain shot through his side. He glanced down and saw blood seeping through a deep wound near his ribs.
“Rats,” he hissed through clenched teeth, wincing as he forced himself to stand. His eyes darted to his sword, lying just out of reach. The creature loomed closer, its malformed heads screeching anew as it prepared to strike again.
"Get up," Sir Francis urged himself, teeth clenched as he forced his body to obey. The creature's grotesque mass loomed closer with each uneven step, its many heads writhing and screeching. Sir Francis staggered upright and snatched up his sword, his gaze flickering between the abomination and the ominous, suspended summoned body of Demon Lord Alastair.
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"I need to hurry," he thought, steadying his breath. His fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sword, and he lowered into a combat stance.
The creature, sensing its prey’s renewed defiance, surged forward with shocking speed for its ungainly size. Its arms swung back, the sharp roots at their tips glinting as they formed lethal spikes.
"Not yet," Sir Francis whispered under his breath, holding his ground as the monster barreled toward him. His heart pounded in his chest, his eyes locked on the opening he needed.
As the abomination closed the gap, it lashed its arm forward in a deadly strike aimed directly at his head.
"NOW!" Sir Francis roared in his mind, reacting in the split second before impact. He dropped low, his boots skidding across the muddy, wet ground. Using the slick surface to his advantage, he slid beneath the creature's legs, narrowly avoiding the sharp roots.
The monster screeched, its grotesque body twisting to follow his movement, but Sir Francis was already behind it. In one fluid motion, he rose to his feet, his sword poised and ready.
He didn’t hesitate. With a shout of determination, he dashed toward the summoned body of Alastair aiming for its glowing pulsating heart.
"Garghhh!" Sir Francis bellowed, his voice echoing through the cavern as he sprinted forward. Each step sent shockwaves of pain through his injured ribs, but he pressed on.
The creature twisted its bulk with unnatural speed, its arm snapping out like a whip. The sharp roots extended once more, hurtling toward Sir Francis with deadly precision.
"Come on," Sir Francis growled, his voice low and intense as he pushed himself forward. His legs burned, each step bringing him closer to his target. The tips of his blade gleamed under the dim light, inching nearer and nearer to the summoned body’s heart.
Time seemed to slow down around him. Sir Francis could hear the steady thrum of his own heartbeat pounding, each pulse echoing like a war drum.
"Please," he begged silently, his mind racing with desperation. The weight of his mission bore down on him, his every hope pinned on this single strike finding its mark.
Meanwhile above ground......
"Urghh… Garghh!" Aki groaned, his body convulsing as Alastair mercilessly drained his life essence. The oppressive force seemed to pull not just his strength but the very light from his soul.
"Still clinging to dear life, I see," Alastair sneered, his tone dripping with derision. "But it won’t be for long. Soon, even your soul will be mine, and I shall be whole again." A sinister grin curled his lips as he added, "Seems I won’t need that soul fragment after all."
From the shadows of a nearby tree, Vidia watched in horror, her trembling hands clutching the bark for support. “Aki…” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.
Unable to bear the sight, Vidia darted forward, her wings propelling her toward Alastair in a desperate bid to stop him. But before she could close the distance, her flight came to an abrupt halt.
"Kyaa!" she screamed as an unseen force ensnared her, her body suspended mid-air. Alastair’s free hand stretched toward her, his palm glowing faintly as invisible energy coiled tightly around her small frame.
"I see you," Alastair said coldly, his crimson gaze locking onto her. His words sent a chill down her spine as his smirk widened. “You reek of Athia’s scent, you little insect.”
With a flick of his finger, the energy binding Vidia tightened before hurling her violently backward. She slammed into a tree with a sickening crack, the force of the impact knocking the air from her lungs.
“Gyah!” Vidia cried out, crumpling to the ground in a heap, her wings trembling as she struggled to move.
“Vi… Vidia…” Aki rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. Helplessness gripped him as he watched his friend lying motionless.
Alastair’s eyes gleamed with triumph, his voice echoing with pride. “Dearest Mother, soon… so very soon, you shall be reborn anew. I will present this world to you, yours to command and conquer.”
But his victorious smile faltered. A sharp, searing pain erupted in his chest. His expression twisted in confusion and disbelief. “What… What is this?” he stammered, his voice trembling.
"Garghhh!" Alastair bellowed in agony, his grip on Aki loosening as he staggered backward. Clutching his chest, his dark aura flickered like a failing flame. His gaze darted wildly, and then his vision shifted to his summoned body beneath the massive, dark tree. Through the eyes of his creation, he saw it—a sword, gleaming even in the oppressive gloom, pierced through the heart of his summoned body.
"No… NO!" Alastair roared, his vision snapping back to his own form as pain wracked his body. He writhed, his proud composure unraveling.
Aki, now free from Alastair’s grasp, crumpled to his knees. One hand pressed against the ground as he struggled to breathe, each pant a testament to his sheer will to survive. Vidia, regaining her footing, trembled as she gazed at the staggering Alastair.
“He… He did it,” Vidia whispered, disbelief and relief mingling in her voice. “He actually did it.”
Cracks began to spiderweb across the surface of the enormous dark tree, audible even amidst the chaos. Below it, the wolf packs that attack Sir William group howled in anguish, their cries piercing through the fading storm. Wisps of dark, smoke-like energy bled from their bodies, dissipating into the air. One by one, the wolves collapsed, unable to stand as their strength and corrupted essence drained away.
“What… What’s happening?” Sir William exclaimed, his sword still drawn, his voice tinged with confusion.
A monstrous roar erupted from the dragon they fought. The headmistress kept her gaze on the beast, noticing the dark aura peeling away from its massive frame. “The dragon,” she said, her voice tinged with astonishment. “it existence is unraveling.”
Seeing the dragon's weakened state, the headmistress seized the opportunity. Without hesitation, she commanded her summoned stone giant to act.
Her summoned colossus obeyed, its massive form moving with deliberate might. With one thunderous swing, its stone fist collided with the dragon’s head. The impact resonated like a deafening clap of thunder. The dragon’s body shuddered violently before crashing to the ground in a lifeless heap.
Slowly, the wolves and the dragon’s immense form began to rot, their flesh sloughing off disintegrating into dark ash.
Alastair’s grip on his own presence weakened, the connection to his summoned body unraveling. It was as though his very existence was being severed from reality itself. Now hunched on the ground in visible pain, he grunted, his crimson eyes flickering with defiance. Through his haze of agony, he noticed Aki standing firmly in front of him.
Aki’s posture was resolute, his grip on his wand unyielding despite the earlier drain on his strength. His expression bore a quiet determination, and the tip of his wand glimmered faintly, aimed directly at Alastair. The air between them was charged with tension, the clash of willpower palpable as the once-overwhelming Demon Lord now seemed vulnerable before him.