Lord Alaric parried a sweep of his daughter’s blade, rage and anger clouding his features even as he restrained himself from fatal hits, showing her just how vast the difference was in skills when it came to the both of them. The rapidly healing body of hers, a sick gift bestowed by the revenant heart she had within her brought bile to his mouth, his techniques turning the air around them into sharp thin crystalized blades that tore into her with every swing of his blade.
Celia was still lord rank in name and power, and she met his attacks with sweeping gusts of wind that carried poisonous bits of unclean Ethra that attempted to stick to him, Alaric’s aura field burning them the moment they came in contact with it. Reversing the grip of his blade, he lashed out again, his projected attacks coming down on her like a hand of judgment, a scraping sound tearing through the air.
Celia laughed, a sound that bit into his heart as her calm and soothing voice now tinged with an underlying wet sickly tone. An appendage shot out of her back, another hand, this one coated with the aura of undeath, fashioning itself into a blade fusion of bone and flesh, shattering the attacks.
“Is that all you have father?” she taunted.
“The great sword of Verdan, brother to the merciless spear, you did better when you watched her die!”
Those words came from a place of bitterness, Alaric saying nothing as he dodged the blistering speeds of the flexible appendage, looking for an angle to strike without making it fatal. She knew that, he could see it in her eyes that he was holding back, perhaps it incensed her the more, but Alaric found himself unwilling to strike her down. Not only had she disgraced him in all but name, but she had placed the clan in jeopardy should the foolhardy plan of his father not come to pass, something that was looking even less likely than ever.
They had no other choice now than to crush the forces of the revenants in a vice-like grip, completely immolating them by the time the Heralds finally arrived, else, Verdan would become nothing but a footnote in the pages of history, something the higher families of the capital city of the empire itself would all but squabble for. Still, what father would willingly strike down his own child?. Gritting his teeth, he added more pressure into his attacks, his aura flaring brighter as he began to press down on her, another appendage appearing behind her, this one coated with some sort of sickly green fluid.
“The powers of the revenants bestowed great gifts upon me,” she said as Alaric suddenly found himself being attacked from four sides.
His imbuement technique, a thick skin of translucent jade green Ethra covered him, taking the blows he deemed not necessary, just not from that sickly green limb.
“They made you an insult to cultivators, an aberration,” Alaric said calmly, pain in his voice.
“They made me what you’ve always wanted me to be!” she said with a shrill cry that blasted her aura around.
Alaric immediately wove his aura tightly around himself as he guessed her next move, watching as the entire hall became one large flesh and bone room, her dominion coming into existence.
She breathed raggedly, her chest heaving, once brown, sun-kissed features now as pale as sour milk, red eyes staring at him. Two more appendages shot out of both sides of her, making her look like some spider, aura burning around her body. One of the new limbs fashioned itself into a needle-like feature, the other into tiny finger-like claws.
“they’ve made me anew, immortal” she whispered as black veins spread out from her eyes down towards her neck.
Alaric shook his head mournfully.
“Only the hegemons are immortal, my daughter” he said as his blade glowed with green Ethra, Alaric releasing more of his strength.
“don’t you see it Father?” she started.
“We are the next step for humanity, we- “
“I’m sorry about your child,” Alaric said, cutting in as she froze.
“This is all it’s about, isn’t it?” he continued.
“I had no idea, you didn’t tell me, not Lirien, not any of the vassals, how were we to know you were pregnant?, how were we to know your husband would- “Alaric said, dodging at the last moment as the spear tipped appendage shot out, almost skewering him like a piece of meat.
Eyes wide, he turned to her, watching her visibly shake with rage, black tears running down her face.
“You shouldn’t have said that” she whispered.
He unleashed everything he had, his core releasing his restricted aura as he engaged in a dance of death with her, his blade flashing across the air along with his projected ones, meeting every blow, every force with equal force, shocked at the true strength her hits carried. She had forsaken her staff, the weapon ornately built for her by the artificer now nothing more than a battering weapon she swung at him gracelessly but with enough rage and force to turn an adept into a pile of meat in one swing.
His imbuement wavered, Alaric pouring more Ethra into it just to keep it working, cutting off her limbs that joined back due to the dark green syrupy liquid that acted like glue. She was a walking monster, the same black veins that graced her face now extending to every part of her body, pulsing with a life of their own, Alaric struggling to catch up to her near mind-bending speed. He leaned into the art of the blade, to his concept he tapped from, feeling every malicious and blood lust covered attack coming for him and met it with equal force.
Not too much, not too little, just the right amount that came from decades of practice and battle, it was said that whatever concept a cultivator walked was unique in its own way, and Alaric had taken his first step into embodying the concept of the jade blade, the body. He was a lord of clan Verdan, the tamers of the wastelands, purgers of the unclean taints of the lands beyond the eyes of the emperor, and wardens of the wastelands. His body attained a calmness that drained his core rapidly, Alaric battering away her attacks, his aura becoming a blade itself that cut through the aura-covered limbs of hers, slicing through with ease and precision, allowing Alaric to get closer to her as she desperately fought back.
He stared into her eyes, into her rapidly mutating form that should he refrain from killing her here, would become a thorn in their flesh later down the line. He swung his blade, its green metal glowing as Celia snarled, bones and flesh tearing off the dominion around them, imbued with the aura of undeath that clashed with his blade. His imbuement was rapidly breaking down, the state of the first step he was in, taking everything he had, his aura being kept alive and burning brightly only by the effort of his steel-like willpower that was already eating away at its edges.
His Ark screen that flickered erratically kept sending warning notifications of his body being pushed to the limit, blinking in and out of existence from the moment that pulse of lord rank power had covered the entire city. Even as his concentration wavered, the spear-like appendage managed to punch through his ribs delivering what he realized was a lethal dose of venom into his body. He got close enough, bending his entire aura into his blade as he rammed it through her chest, piercing her heart.
Celia’s eyes widened, the entire room destroyed, huge slabs of stone and glass from the ceiling falling all around them as she stared down at the blade and then back at him. He cut the spear appendage, throwing it to the ground where it writhed before burning away to leave a smear of black blood on the ground. Words weren’t exchanged, father and daughter staring at each other as her mouth formed words, her other limbs trying to attack him as with a wave of aura-covered arm, he cut through them in one swipe, Alaric wincing at the effort it took him.
She gripped his arms, Alaric feeling the strength leaving her as the black veins receded, the source of her powers, the revenant heart within her chest now restricted. She choked, spitting black blood on him as she spoke.
“My husband, my child, your brother” she stared, each word a pike driven hard into Alaric’s chest.
“Where does it end?” she whispered again.
She gripped the blade, staring into his eyes as Alaric struggled not to release the state he was in, his emotions, crashing down on him would shatter him.
“Do it” she growled.
“I did it for us all, I do it for Rhyn, that he would be spared your vile, cold- “
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Alaric twisted the blade, unleashing his aura into her as she burned from within, Celia’s mouth opened in a wordless scream, her body crumbling even as he touched heads with her, releasing the state as his shoulders shook uncontrollably.
“I’m sorry,” Alaric said, dropping to his knees, a healing elixir in his mouth, swallowing it all in one gulp.
He knelt there, tears streaming down his face as the very palace of the patriarch crumbled to dust around him, his blade lay strewn on the ground next to him.
************************************
Jade Peak was a slaughterhouse, its buildings a smoking ruin and its roads littered with dead bodies from both sides, horrible creatures roaming around, looking for pockets of resistant rankers and people to kill. So far the hidden reinforced buildings where the majority of the people of the city were in hadn’t been breached, the peak adepts guarding them with most of the resources of their houses as well. It was left to the new adepts, Elyria along with Rhyn and the rest to hunt the city, staying out of the sight of the Highlords and lords that fought above them.
She came across a team of disciples wielding imbued weapons, their affinities of blades and hammers lashing out at the arachnid-looking creatures that attacked the gathered cultivators, tier 3 creatures with sharp pincers that struck at them, the disciples barely holding them at bay. She realized they protected a pile of bodies, dead rankers that must have been their companions or something, tsking to herself. She dropped like a ghost, her silver blade killing one of the arachnids as her floating orbs of silver metal became blades, dancing among the creatures, laying waste to them.
When it was done, the disciples bowed, voices quivering.
“Thank you venerable adept” one said, the rest echoing his sentiment.
“Leave, head for the shelters, stay off the road” she ordered.
They nodded, attempting to carry the bodies.
“don’t be stupid” she growled.
“But they are our house members, we can’t leave their bodies to be desecrated” another protested.
Elyria almost pitied them, in their torn and burnt robes, scars around their bodies, they had seen enough battle for a while, but she knew they might not survive this one, at least, not all of them, and dragging the dead bodies along wouldn’t help matters as well.
“What did you think drew those creatures to you?’ she said with irritation.
Every second she wasted meant someone else could die, even with their forces spread out around, the city was too big for a team of adepts to just cover quickly, with too many nooks and crannies.
“It’s the carrions for now, soon it will be the cult themselves” she finished.
The leader nodded, about to talk when a bone arrow tore through his throat, the body tumbling to the ground, eyes wide as he grabbed at his throat. Elyria released her floating blades, turning them into thick discs that acted as shields as she screamed at the disciples to move. A release of aura that warned her of another adept coming, a powerful one had her swinging her blade as she appeared in front of the disciples, her blade swinging to end them in one sweep.
She was there, clashing with the blade, sparks flying off the both of them, the revenant adept, a lithe man with a blade made of black bone, its hilt a skull with glowing red eyes stared at her, a grin on his face. Pushing apart, the adept stood on guard as the entire area around them was lined with disciples of the cult, all wielding flesh or bone weapons, some even taking grotesque shapes that spoke of unholy fusions.
“you’ve been killing off our pets, can’t say I’m too happy about that,” the adept said.
Elyria sighed.
“please” she started.
“don’t try to start a conversation with me, you’re vermin, filth, below my standards, and definitely not an equal, just die”
Her floating shields changed into blades, flashing into the crowd of disciples, scything them down by the dozens as the disciples behind her threw themselves into the battle with fervor, intent on carving their path through the forces of undeath. The incensed adept came at her, bone armor flowing with undeath Ethra and aura covering his body as she coated her body with the same silver liquid, glowing under the pale sun covered by the rising smoke in the air.
Every move he used, she saw through, slicing into his bone armor even as he fought on, surprise etched all over his face. the forces of undeath brought out another kind of rage within her, she had seen what they could do, what their regent had done to the coastal cities with his ‘garden of pale life’ as he had called it, a mockery of the true garden of life built by the regent of the wardens herself. Slamming a kick that broke through his ribs, she grabbed his hands, the metal arm of hers shattering it before needle-like fingers injected her silver liquid metal into him, sending them straight to his head.
A few seconds later saw the adept frantically fighting for his life as his head exploded, the sentient blade he held giving an unearthly shriek before shattering as well into pieces. Staring at the dead headless body, Elyria turned her gaze to the retreating disciples, what was left of them, and the pursuing disciples of the clan. If they decided to chase after them, then it was their business, whatever came out of it would be their burden to bear alone.
Turning away, she made her way deeper into what was once the trading district, catching up with Rhyn who breathed heavily, his robes torn, facing down three adepts of the clan. Sorin and Shiro were nowhere to be found, and the Scion of clan Verdan stood amid tier 2 and 3 creatures as well as disciples and adepts, a pile of bodies at his feet marking his kill count. The three adepts were different in looks, Elyria counting three distinct fingers and factions of the revenant cult.
She had heard of them, the nine fingers of the cult and their factions, and right in front of her here, judging by their looks were three of the most known. The ghoul king faction, the large bulky adept holding two meat cleavers in hand and a deformed look, the bone king faction, a large skeletal adept with glowing red eyes and a staff in hand, no doubt a necromancer, and the last being the shadow king faction judged by the wisps of shadow and thin long blade at what looked like a feminine stature, face hidden under a cowl.
“Your death had been preordained, Rhyn Verdan of Verdan clan,” the skeleton said, tapping the bone staff on the ground as a green light shone and the bodies around Rhyn began to rise, losing their flesh in the process.
The ghoul adept roared, clashing his cleavers together, releasing sparks before taking a step forward. Rhyn unleashed his aura, gripping his blade tighter before crouching a little.
“you’re not worthy of the air I breathe, undeath filth” he replied.
The shadow adept chuckled, drawing her blade that seemed to drink in the light around it.
“Your skull would make a fine wine holder,” she said, the feminine voice confirming Elyria’s thought.
She could see he was at a disadvantage, how he even fell into such a trap puzzled her but one thing was clear, it hadn’t been a coincidence, they had been actively hunting him. Calmly morphing one of her orbs into a needle, she targeted the shadow adept, aware of just how dangerous an assassin-type cultivator could be, and in essence, knew she had to die first. As the adept attempted to swing her blade, all focus and Rhyn, Elyria seized the metal of the weapon, struggling with the slippery shadow affinity.
It caught the adept off guard, enough for Rhyn’s blade to cut into her, the needle she had forged as well puncturing through the cowl as the adept dropped to the ground, her features revealed with blood leaking out of the corner of her head. The bone adept turned to her location, pointing his staff as the skeletal forces ran towards her along with a quarter of the assembled force. Silver liquid metal covering her in armor, her metal hand filled with serrated fingers and a blade in her other hand, Elyria dived into their midst.
She was a whirlwind of flesh and bones, carnage given form in its rawest form as she hacked and slashed, her metal discs tearing through them as the disciples were cut down in droves. A loud shriek in the air showed a flying serpentine bone creature, one Elyria wasn’t familiar with diving down straight at her, claws outstretched. One of her orbs exploded the moment it got close, blowing apart the creature as well as she used it as a platform to take a shot at the bone adept, a darkness fell over her at that moment, the ghoul adept, cleavers swinging through the air and at her came down with the force of a comet on her.
She twisted through the air, parrying the weapon, the force and strength behind the blow, crashing her into the ground. Rhyn was next to her, blade blocking the cleavers of the adept as he grunted.
“On your feet!” he growled.
“Nice to see you too” she grunted, pushing towards the skeletal adept, a glowing green heart hanging by itself within his rib cage.
“Oh dear, attacking fragile old me,” the adept said before swinging his staff and bones fired at her through the air.
Elyria gave no response, docking and twisting, the ones that crashed into her metallic form shattering as she got in close only for another huge creature to land in front of her, a tier 3 death knight, its large bastard blade swinging for her midsection as she ducked, one of her orbs becoming a lance that fired at it.
"Please, like I’d engage you in a close battle, crazy Bloodfire cultivators” the skeleton mocked.
A mage then, one from probably Ironthorn continent, their detest for martial fighters was plain to see, and the death knight in front of her, a tank in all but name would be a challenge. She fused her blade with the lance, reinforcing it as she poured aura and Ethra into it, the weapon glinting. The death knight rushed her, shield raised and sword swinging as she clashed with it from a distance, the large creature impossibly fast for a being of its size, the both of them not giving ground even as she tried pressing for the skeletal adept.
“But you’re not from Bloodfire, are you?” the adept said.
The ground around her sprouted sharp bones as she danced around it, her mind still on the knight that shattered them as he made his way towards her.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you look like a child of Silvershade, but your affinity says otherwise”
Elyria summoned one orb, exploding it near the face of the knight as the creature came on, its movements unstopped.
The adept laughed.
“you’d have to do better than that, dear,” he said.
More and more orbs exploded close to the creature, the knight still attacking with the same fervor it had earlier used, its swings carrying the same deadly force it had at the beginning. Elyria concentrated, forcing the creature back a few steps before she stepped on its shield, using it as a platform to launch herself at the skeleton. Crashing into a defensive shield, a talisman glued to the shoulder bone of the skeleton glowing, it tsked, eyes glowing with excitement.
“Wrong move dear, now you die,” he said.
The death knight roared behind her, its huge blade swinging down to cut her in two, the skeleton grinning. It still had the grin on its face when the blade crashed through its talisman shield, the barrier allowing it through before it shattered the talisman itself, bringing the shield down. Elyria was through as quickly as a wraith, serrated fingers tearing the revenant heart from its shattered rib cage even as the skeleton fell to his knees, mouth clacking.
The knight crashed to its knees, silver metal seeping out of its body before it fell apart.
“you talk too much,” she said, decapitating the adept.