“It's coming!” Ha'palo exclaimed as the darkness rushed towards them.
“Ignore it! My presence will keep it at bay!” Pish'golvat snapped. “Be on guard for any enemies!”
“That stuff is the enemy!” Va'ishta cried in horror as cackling fairies formed out of the darkness and swarmed them, climbing all over the cultivators, pinching, biting, shouting in their ears, and blocking their eyes. “I can't- ulp!” She cut off, eye's going wide as her core sputtered, sending her hurtling to the ground.
“Va!” Net'jala cursed, rushing after her.
“The King!” Pish'golvat exclaimed as ‘Jer'tunal’ disappeared. “These damn creatures! Someone find him!”
“How?!? They just took out our sensory expert!” Ha'palo asked incredulously as he blasted apart large swathes of fairies, only for them to instantly reform. “Fuck, they're just like the Dragon!”
Sand began to whirl around Bin'kenta, tearing the fairies apart over and over again, keeping them from reforming. “What the hell are these things?!?”
“It doesn't matter!” Pish'golvat snapped, crushing the fairies around him, which proved as ineffective as Ha'polo's blasts. “We need to find the King!”
“Unless you can pull a sensory ability out of your ass, there's nothing we can do without Va!” Ha'palo retorted.
“Why don't you just check the Palace?” Greg asked with a snicker, his voice echoing weirdly as he spoke through multiple fairies. “That's where you left him, after all. Or at least his corpse.”
“Silence, demon!” Pish'golvat roared. “Where have you taken the King?!?”
“I told you, he's back at the Palace!” Greg laughed. “As for that impersonator you were ‘saving’, well… telling you would kinda defeat the point of helping him escape, now wouldn't it?”
Pish'golvat gritted his teeth, whirling on Net'jala as he returned carrying Va'ishta. “You! Find the King! Now!” He ordered, pointing at Va'ishta.
“I can't!” Va'ishta protested. “They're suppressing my ability somehow! I can't do anything!”
“Excuses!” Pish'golvat sneered. “Find the King or I will start tearing your limbs off one by one!”
“You won't lay a single finger on her!” Net'jala snapped, backing away as both Ha'palo and Bin'kenta moved between them, eyeing Pish'golvat warily.
“I'm pretty sure she can't even help you anymore.” Greg yawned. “Alexander has probably taken a different form by now, if he's smart.”
Pish'golvat ignored Greg as he glared at the squad. “If she doesn't find the King in the next ten seconds, I will execute all of you for treason!”
“Whoa, hey now, that seems a little harsh, don't you think?” Greg interjected. “I mean, it isn't her fault Andrew's suppressing her ability.”
“Shut. Up!” Pish'golvat roared, blasting Greg with a wave of pressure. “You will find the King, or you will die! I will- gah!” He cut off as his ability did, falling out of the sky.
“Man, that dude is a dick.” Greg muttered. “Seriously though, the King is back at the Palace. Wanna check it out? You can identify a corpse, can't you? Though, just to warn you, it's a bit crispy.” He paused. “Also, just to warn you, Andrew isn't going to be able to hold that guy long, so unless you want to fight him, you better do something soon.”
“My ability is back and- I can't sense the King.” Va'ishta commented, grimacing as she flew out of Net'jala's arms.
They all turned to Net'jala, waiting for him to make a decision. He hesitated for a moment, before letting out a sigh. “Let's go to the Palace. Pish'golvat isn't going to let this go until the King is found, and these people have already proven that they can keep us from doing that. If they're trying to hide the King, then we're fucked. If they're telling the truth… we need to verify it.”
“Then let's go!” Greg waved, heading to the Palace. “Andrew's already struggling to keep that guy down. Lot stronger than the chick.” The cultivators hesitated for a moment before following, picking up speed as they heard Pish'golvat roaring in frustration down below. Greg opened a hole in the side of the Palace for them, taking them directly to Jer'tunal’s quarters, gesturing to the burnt out husk that was the King. “Well, take a look.”
Va'ishta grimaced as she took a closer look, examining the corpse closely. “The energy has been drained somehow, but… the traces that are left match the energy of the King. This- there's a very good chance this is the body of Jer'tunal.”
Net'jala frowned. “We need to check the Blood Bow. If it's unclaimed-” He cut off as Va'ishta yelped, staring wide eyed in the direction of the throne room. “Va?”
“Some- someone is drawing the Blood Bow!” Va'ishta hissed in horror. “We have to-” She cut off, eyes widening as the energy disappeared. “What-” Va'ishta’s jaw dropped as the energy began to build again, only to disappear, then start again, and again, and again… “Are they trying to commit suicide?!?” She exclaimed incredulously.
“Eh, it's probably Chris. He'll be fine.” Greg waved dismissively. “We good here? King's dead. Not much anyone can do about it now but handle the fallout. Speaking of…” He held up three fingers, two, one… “Huh, he's la-”
“I will destroy all of you!?!” Pish'golvat roared as he smashed into the room.
Net'jala gritted his teeth, sending out some kind of field that forced Pish'golvat to move in slow motion, beginning to sweat from the effort of keeping him restricted. “Pish'golvat, you're too late! The King is dead and the Blood Bow has been claimed!”
Pish'golvat froze, before letting out a pained, frustrated roar. “You treasonous dogs! You've let- the King is either kidnapped or dead, the Blood Bow has been stolen, and you sit here, colluding with the very people who perpetrated this attack on our kingdom!”
“We actually haven't gotten to colluding yet.” Greg commented.
Pish'golvat whirled on him in a rage. “I have had enough of you!” He roared, crushing him with another wave of pressure.
Greg reformed, faking a yawn. “Seriously, haven't you figured out that doesn't work yet? You might have a learning disorder.”
“Fuck! You!” Pish'golvat growled, using pressure waves to rip Greg apart again and again.
A second Greg appeared behind him, waving at the stunned cultivators and motioning towards a newly opened hole in the wall. They carefully snuck away while Pish'golvat vented his rage on Greg, getting angrier and angrier as Greg literally laughed in his face, no matter what he did. “Man, what is that guy's problem?” Greg clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he brought the cultivators down towards the throne room where the others were setting up.
The cultivators all looked at him incredulously. “You- were directly involved in the death of his nephew.” Bin'kenta hesitantly pointed out.
Greg cocked his head. “I was? Wait, that guy is Jer'tunal’s uncle?” The cultivators nodded. “Huh… still though, letting your emotions just control you like that isn't a great look. I mean, you guys aren't going crazy on me. You tried, but eventually realized it was pointless and calmed down. I get being angry, but letting your anger make you irrational is just… weak.” Greg sighed, shaking his head.
The cultivators grimaced. They wouldn't say they ‘calmed down’. It was more that the threat of Pish'golvat was more immediate than whatever this… creature was doing. “What- are you doing here?” Net'jala asked tentatively.
Greg paused. “A… demonstrative threat assessment?” He offered, chuckling slightly. “Jer'tunal was getting ready to do things we would really prefer he not do, so we took it upon ourselves to show quite clearly why such actions would be… unwise. Also, Jer'tunal was kind of a crappy king, so we figured we might as well oust him, though we were a bit divided on actually killing him. Alexander kinda took that decision out of our hands.”
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“Who is Alexander?” Net'jala frowned.
“Just a guy with a frankly ridiculous ability.” Greg waved dismissively. “He can absorb the ability and form of anything he kills, which is how he tricked you into thinking he was the King. We figured he wouldn't hold up under the inspection of a mind doctor, so we had to help him escape. We don't want anyone to die unless it's absolutely necessary, and Alexander isn't at that point yet.”
“He assassinated and impersonated our King!” Ha'palo retorted. “How does that not merit death?!?”
Greg raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, we were half planning on killing the guy ourselves, and he only did it because he thought he had to in order to save his home. It wasn't malicious, it was desperate. We don't kill desperate people, we get them help.” The cultivators fell silent, considering that point as they arrived at the throne room, freezing as they saw Chris drawing the Blood Bow, then stepping into his portal and releasing the arrow, only to step back out and do it again. Greg walked over to Victoria and Andrew. “What's he doing?”
“The bow gathers a crapton of energy for each arrow, which he then releases into his world.” Victoria explained. “He's gathering it so he can fuel his subordinates' mutations.”
“Nice.” Greg nodded appropriately. “That should be helpful.”
Victoria glanced over at the cultivators who were still watching Chris with expressions of utter horror. “What are we doing with them?”
“No idea!” Greg shrugged, grinning slightly. “Mostly just brought them along because otherwise the crazy dude would kill them.”
Suddenly Va'ishta stepped towards Chris. “Please, stop! You'll kill yourself!” She cried. “Can't you feel the bow draining your life!?!”
“He's already died to it. Twice.” Zin'yesa muttered numbly from her position on the floor.
“Death is just an inconvenience for us, if you haven't noticed.” Greg commented.
Victoria clapped her hands. “Alright Chris, take a break and greet your new subjects.”
Chris sighed, tossing the Blood Bow through the portal and closing it. The thing resisted being connected to his world for some reason, so he couldn't just move it in and out at will. “Fine.” He flickered up to the cultivators, appearing in front of Va'ishta. “Hello, I'm Chris, Jer'tunal’s nephew by Jo'vuntulla. How may I help you?”
Va'ishta took a step back at Chris's sudden appearance. “You- the Blood Bow- you were-”
“I was using it to gather energy. It's fine. I'm immortal, so it doesn't matter how much I use it.” Chris explained. “Isn't the matter of my succession of Jer'tunal more important at the moment?”
“Are you really Jer'tunal’s nephew?” Net'jala stepped forward hesitantly.
“That's what I've been told.” Chris nodded, before pausing and raising a finger. “Hold on.” He stood there for a moment, before inclining his head slightly as Jo appeared in her Elven form. “This is my mom.”
“What do you mean Jer'tunal is dead!?!” Jo ignored her sudden change in environment as she stared at Chris incredulously. He'd just popped in, asked her to change into her Elf form, and said ‘Uncle Jer-Jer is dead so I need you to tell some people how we're related’ before taking her here.
Chris blinked. “That? I didn't do it, if that's what you're worried about. Alexander did.”
“I don't care who did it, I care that my brother is dead!” Jo retorted angrily, tears filling her eyes. She knew he'd changed, that he wasn't a good king, but… all she could think of was the happy young boy she'd grown up with, full of optimism, always positive, always finding a way to enjoy everything he did. An optimism that had dimmed after their mother's assassination by a rebel faction. Even when he'd forced her to swear an oath to never claim the throne and exiled her to the City, she'd never blamed him. Her ability had made her very popular with the people, and it was becoming disruptive to his rule. Even when she heard the stories all the other exiles told about him, she'd hoped it was all some misunderstanding, just bitter people painting his actions in the worst light possible. Even when Chris told her about the army he was creating to attack the City, she'd hoped it was just a defensive measure. She'd never wanted to believe her precious brother had to die. And now that he had… a sob shuddered through her as she fell into Chris's arms, clutching tightly to him as she mourned the death of that poor, innocent boy.
Chris held Jo awkwardly as she cried, patting her back every now and then, resisting the urge to call Beth to deal with this. The Elves still couldn't know humans were involved in this, at least not in any obvious way. “I'm- sorry?” He tried to say comfortingly. It didn't work. “I should probably take you back home.” He muttered, about to take her back when a roar echoed through the throne room as Pish'golvat finally realized focusing on Greg was pointless and rushed down to secure the Blood Bow.
“Relinquish the Blood Bow or d-” Pish'golvat froze as he caught sight of Jo, looking up at him in shock with red rimmed eyes. “J-Jo?”
“Uncle Pish?” Jo replied.
“What are you-” Pish'golvat began, stunned before rage filled him again as he connected dots that weren't there. “If you think holding my niece hostage will stay my hand, you are sorely mistaken!” He growled, raising his hand as his power built.
“Uncle Pish, no!” Jo exclaimed, stepping in front of Chris. “No one is holding me hostage! This- this is my son, Chris.”
Pish'golvat froze again. “Your- your son?” He frowned, glancing at the throne, the seventh point on the crown detailed there a clear sign that Jer'tunal was dead and a new King had claimed the Blood Bow. “Then why is he here with the people who killed your brother!?!”
“Because Jer'tunal didn't deserve to be King anymore.” Chris replied, ignoring the fact that they hadn't actually had anything to do with his death. They probably would have if things had played out differently, so it was a pointless distinction. “It's one thing to be shitty to your own people, but he was threatening the well-being of those who owed him no loyalty. That couldn't be allowed.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?!?” Pish'golvat growled, glaring at him. “I don't care if Jer'tunal was planning on wiping out every last non-Elf on Azza! It doesn't give anyone the right to kill my nephew!”
Chris shrugged. “Agree to disagree.”
“Chris…” Jo muttered, giving him a disappointed look.
Chris sighed. “Jer'tunal’s use of oaths made him too dangerous to keep alive. At any moment he could sentence thousands to death, including Elves, and there was a reasonable expectation that he would. It would have been irresponsible to give him the chance to do so. Admittedly, I would have preferred to interrogate him a bit, to confirm the danger, but Alexander killed him before we had the chance. Ultimately, however, we would have killed him if we had to, and I stand by that decision.”
Jo's expression fell. “I- I can understand that, logically, but… he was my brother. I- I can't just accept his death that easily.”
Chris nodded. “I understand. Emotions are a bitch.”
Jo grimaced at him. “Chris, I love you, but you can be very disturbing at times.”
Chris shrugged. “I'm aware.”
Pish'golvat gritted his teeth, stepping forward and grabbing Chris by the throat. “You have orchestrated the death of the King and stolen his throne! Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right here, right now!”
Chris shifted out of his grip. “You can't. I'm immortal.”
“I've killed plenty of ‘immortal’ creatures.” Pish'golvat sneered. “Whatever powers your regeneration, I will find it, and I will destroy you!”
Chris raised an eyebrow, opening a portal. “It's right there. Give it your best shot.”
“Chris, don't- Uncle Pish, don't!” Jo exclaimed, stopping Pish'golvat from stepping through the portal. “Stop it, the both of you!” She snapped. “What happened to Jer'tunal is- It's heartbreaking, but fighting each other won't solve anything! We have so little family left, how can you tear it apart even more!?!”
Chris clicked his tongue, closing the portal. “I was just going to put him in time out for a bit.”
“Why do you keep defending this creature!” Pish'golvat growled in frustration.
“I'm defending you!” Jo snapped. “Fighting Chris is pointless! There is nothing you can do to him, and if you step into his world, you are his!”
Pish'golvat snorted. “I hardly think a whelp barely a few decades into his life could threaten me.”
“Then think more.” Jo crossed her arms. “Chris is not someone you can handle.”
Pish'golvat shook his head. “You have no idea how much my power has grown since your exile.”
“It doesn't matter!” Jo snapped. “In his world, Chris is absolute! There is nothing you can do about that!”
Pish'golvat frowned. “You make him sound like some kind of god.”
Jo hesitated. “Basically… he is.”
“A demonic god, to be specific.” Greg chuckled.
Pish'golvat grimaced. “I refuse to accept that! Nothing is absolute in this world!”
“We are.” Chris shrugged, opening a portal again. “Feel free to test me if you like.”
“Chris.” Jo growled warningly.
“Don't worry, I'll just throw him onto some random planet for a day or so.” Chris assured her.
Jo continued to stare at him warily for a moment, before sighing and nodding. “Just don't hurt him. He is your great uncle.”
Chris nodded. “I won't, don't worry.”
Pish'golvat looked between them and the portal warily, suddenly not feeling very confident in his chances. He considered whether this might be a trap, but… his niece wouldn't do that to him. No matter how much time had passed, he was certain of that. Even the death of her mother hadn't shaken the caring soul within her. But… could she survive losing her son if he succeeded? He glared at Chris. “I will test you, nephew. Be thankful for your mother. She's the only reason I'll allow you to live.”
“Ditto.” Chris gave him a thumbs up as he stepped through the portal, immediately sending him to an isolated corner of his world to stew for a while. “Alright, that's taken care of. Now what are we going to do with the rest of the kingdom?”