Thorne flew just below the battling highlords, feeling the backlash of their techniques slam into him with raw deadliness, tearing into him, his body healing back rapidly. An adept would be reduced to nothing but red mist this close to them, and an average lord would carry deadly injuries, but not Thorne, no, he was something different. Eyes on the Highlady known as Sabri, he considered his options as he came face to face with the particular cultivator that was the cause of all his woes.
Turning his gaze to the distance where another lord, the daughter of the Verdan Highlord sought to stem the tides of revenant creatures pouring out of the rift duplicator that was on its last legs. Thorne gave a soft smile, not sure why he was this calm, his eyes turning back up again as he raised his hand. Aura gathered in it, lashing out till he shaped it with his willpower, fusing Ethra with it as well to create a projected sword he held in his grasp.
He felt the attention of the two highlords hone in on him, both exuding surprise as he prepared to swing the blade, a grin on his face that held so much restrained anger appeared. Thorne swung the blade, the projected attack tearing its way across the air toward them, carrying the full might of an early-tier lord.
It was slapped away by Rowan.
“Why am I not surprised” the patriarch said.
Thorne watched the Highlord prepare an attack against him before rapidly canceling it, dodging a swing of Sabri’s blade.
“he’s one of mine,” she said with a laugh.
“No, I’m not” Thorne replied, the anger he had kept locked away for a long time somehow coming to the forefront in a fit of pure rage.
He went for her, burning undeath Ethra as he gripped the blade tighter, drawing on his concept.
Flesh blade.
It had been a moment of profound devastation when he realized just what his concept would become, a far cry from the path of the one blade he had followed, and yet, he hadn’t shied away from it. He was damned, that much he could see now, and it was only a matter of time before his brother and sister Heralds caught up with him. So focused was Thorne on the Highlady, so deep was he in his rage that he only saw the spear in the last minute, bringing his blade down at an awkward angle to deflect the attack that tore through his midsection, pushing him sideways.
He crashed into the ground a few meters away, breath ragged as he willed his flesh to reknit itself, his injuries already healed. Laying there and refusing to get up even as he was fine in a few seconds, he heard the footsteps stop a few meters away.
“You and I have the same enemy, you know,” Thorne said softly but audibly, his voice ringing out.
“Nothing good ever came out of allowing you to live,” Lirien said.
Thorne closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before getting to his feet, staring at the lord with bleeding wounds all over her body. Shaking his head, he spoke.
“you’re in no state to face me,” he said
She gave no reply as Ethra swelled around her, the air shimmering with crystals that began to take shape, her spear glowing. It was like the air was hardening, Thorne nodding.
“you’re almost at the second stage,” he said.
“If only you and your type hadn’t interfered” Lirien bit back.
“I’m not- “Thorne snarled, holding back his rage as he calmed himself.
No, his anger was reserved for the Highlady who fought above him, not the spear, not the woman in front of him. He was about to forge a blade out of his limb bone when something smashed into the ground in front of him.
“Thank me later!” the laughing voice of the Highlady said from above.
It was a black bone blade, its metal seemingly drinking in the light around it. Thorne stared at it with rage behind his eyes, turning his gaze upwards as he grabbed the blade, feeling a budding sentience from within the blade latch on to him. With a force of will, he pushed it away, the blade seemingly shrieking in his mind as he turned to Lirien who calmly watched him.
Thorne pointed the blade at her, speaking softly.
“We can still do this amicably,” he said.
“Not until you aren’t a blight on this world any longer”
Thorne laughed.
“Now you sound just like an herald” he replied.
She attacked.
Her spear shot through the air, a piercing weapon of terrifying lethal accuracy, cutting through the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Thorne found himself responding with ease, the black blade in his hand easily deflecting the attack, responding to his body in a fraction of a second, and then fended off the consecutive dozen other attacks that sought to skewer him in the blink of an eye. He found himself within her dominion, the realm of spears all shooting for him from different angles, the former herald relying on his old teachings to get through them.
He had come close to death a few times too close within her realm even as projection after projection technique sought to tear him to shreds, relying only on his now tainted aura to deflect them, to see him through each attack as they came. Then she got close and Thorne got serious, realizing why they called her the merciless spear. Spear and sword, clashed together as all of a sudden her one spear parted into two short spears, her body encased in a jade armor that glowed.
She was a terrible sight to behold, and Thorne, as calm as a lake, his body taking hit upon hit and recovering from it. He wondered if she realized her attacks were getting weaker, her projection techniques now easy enough to shatter with his bare hands, or was he that strong now?. Either way, he slammed her backwards with a kick, her jade armor shattering like glass as she crashed into the ground.
“You held back a flood of undeath minions” he started.
“Fought off two revenant lords, killed one, and left one so damaged that he couldn’t take down four adepts easily, no one will say you haven’t f- “
“Silence!” Lirien roared, cutting him off.
“You are a blemish against existence, a plague to humanity” she snarled.
“Oh please, spear me the act!” he replied as the sword began to burn with dark green flames.
“Your very clan was built on the bones of countless clans of the wastelands, or were you too young to know when your father was called the executioner of the wastelands?”
An explosion came from the distance, the battle of the highlords dying down with the revenant seemingly being on top. Thorne released his dominion, his realm of flesh that encapsulated the both of them.
“This will be your last chance,” he said as he crouched a bit, bringing his sword up.
Lirien grinned, blood on her teeth as her spear flared up with power.
“good” she whispered.
“Let us battle as real lords do” she completed.
She ignited her attack, the crystal spear, a technique she had honed for decades, right from her time as a disciple, its power unstoppable, its accuracy unequaled in her many years as a lord. Thorne swung his blade, gathering raw aura honed to a knife’s edge, his Ethra infused so perfectly with it that it sparked, his projection technique carrying with it the beginning of what would become an essence flame.
It sliced the crystal spear technique in two, slashing Lirien as blood sprayed out, the lord falling to her knees, body bleeding profusely. Thorne stood straight, flicking his blade as he marched forwards.
“If it’s any consolation” he started.
“Thalas fought to the very end”
Lirien even as she was on her last hold of breath found her eyes raising in rage as she realized what he meant, giving a woeful scream of pain and anger, hand gripping the broken remains of her spears in rage. Thorne raised his blade preparing to end her existence when space cracked beside him and a black burning hand gripped the blade, the weapon screaming in pain. Surprise etching his features, he watched as a man stepped through the crack that steadily expanded behind him, black robes carrying an insignia he was all too well aware of as his eyes widened.
Struggling against the raw strength of the man who steadily cooked his sword to molten slag, the sentience within the blade dying, he attacked with his other hand when raw fire and lightning ran through him, blasting him backward and into the ground, the smell of cooked meat in the air. Attempting to struggle feebly to his feet, Thorne watched as other figures began to step out of the crack, a nexus key used within the surge, the sheer madness of it not enough to quell the dread of the figures that stepped out after him.
These were clad in red and black robes, the crest of a black sword on their chest, his heart pounding wildly. A woman led them, a Highlady, her aura billowing out, feeling so terrifyingly powerful that it placed the other highlords around them to shame, the battle above coming to a stop as Rowan Verdan suddenly landed close to them, on his knees, bloodied.
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“I greet the emissaries of the Heralds,” he said, turning his gaze to the woman.
“And the Highlord of the Talahan clan,” he said to the man.
The male ignored him, turning his gaze to the floating lady Sabri.
Aura cocooned him as he began to float upwards.
“What madness, has seized you tainted bastards, that you assumed you could get away with this within the territory of the empire, hmm?” he asked, his voice echoing out.
The Highlady brought out a talisman, its leathery inscriptions glowing as she threw it into the air, a loud wailing scream rending the air apart even as the man didn’t budge. With a snort, he raised one hand, a finger pointing to the very skies themselves as they darkened, the clouds catching black fire, lightning running through them, the Highlady of the revenants tearing the talisman. It felt like the rift duplicator fractured, the rent that linked the Necropolis to the city growing wider.
“It will be an honor to take the head of one of Kaius’s whelps,” she said.
“You are not worthy to utter his name, not in a thousand lifetimes, rotten meat,” the man said calmly.
Then he snapped his fingers as hundreds of hordes of creatures tore out of the rift space, the skies above him igniting with the fury of a Highlord. It washed over the rift duplicator like a flood of raw fury, the dying screams of the creatures of undeath filling the air around them. The air smelt of charred meat, choking everywhere, and yet when it was done, nothing remained of the rift duplicator but melted slag, the rift itself gone, and the hole in reality healed.
The Highlady glanced behind her with wide eyes, her body instantly blazing to life with green flames, her form cocooned once again in bone and flesh armor, and from her void ring came two blades. The man nodded.
“Not that it matters if you take things seriously” he started.
“there’s only so far you can impress the cultivators of the borders and wastelands with your paltry tricks, not even your masters would attempt to step foot within our domain”
He smiled, seemingly taking a deep breath.
“Ingrain my name into your head, I want your death wails to be from me, a reminder to your superiors,” he said.
“If they’re listening, tell them they have successfully roused the clan of Talahan, and its wrath has arrived”
Then he stretched his hand out as his aura took the shape of a large bird, its mere shriek igniting the air around them even as the Highlady released hers, a large fleshy eye formed of her aura appearing above her.
“Let them know, that Varis Talahan, core descendant of the emperor himself will deliver judgment” he finished, igniting his surroundings in an explosion.
********************
Thorne found himself facing down five adepts and a Highlady of the Heralds. He had once worn that robe, pride in the insignia across his back as he had trained in the battle arts of the cult itself. Now, he stood on opposite sides, his pleas about to look meaningless and fall on deaf ears, he should know, he had been one of them.
“Thorne of the enclave of blades” the Highlady started.
He swallowed.
“I didn’t do it” he whispered furiously, shaking his head.
“Once adept of the Ironedge himself” she continued without pause.
“You have broken your oaths and spat on all the cult stands for, I name you traitor, betrayer, and killer of kin”
“I didn’t do it!, she did!, she turned me into this!” he roared.
“For your crimes against the cult, and with the authority of the Ironedge himself, I, Aerin, Highlady of the Heralds, hereby sentence you to death, will you take it willingly?” she asked.
Thorne found himself breathing hard, black tears rolling down his face.
“I didn’t do it” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Take him down” she ordered the adepts.
It would be foolish to order adepts to take down a lord, but Thorne knew well enough the lethality of the adepts of the cult, they did it on a regular. In a blink, talismans were in their hands, the light items igniting with pre-etched runes on them as chains made of aura shot out, attempting to tie him down even as he moved, twisting through the air. The first adept to face him was one of the enclave of shield, perfect defensive cultivators, their techniques as heavy and dangerous as they were sturdy. It took three punches filled with aura to break through her defensive artifact, her ribs shattering even as he avoided a spear to his skull, an axe, and a hammer in consecutive moves.
Weaponless, under the ever-watchful gaze of the Highlady Aerin, Thorne found himself unable to attack with lethal intentions, barely doing his best to incapacitate them. He wouldn’t see another herald die, not if he could help it, and yet, his former brothers and sisters spared him no mercy. Their weapons alight with their auras and Ethra, techniques of devastating accuracy only fended off with great effort by his superior body and Ethra, his core filling him with tainted Ethra.
He wanted to plead his case, to make them realize that he hadn’t done it, that he hadn’t been the cause of the death of his entire team, his family, and yet, as the Highlady raised one hand up, preparing to attack him, she scrunched her face together in shock. Thorne felt himself being skewered from behind by a blade, his scream of raw pain as he fell straight to the ground, crashing into it.
“You overstep your boundaries, Verdan!” the harsh voice of Aerin said.
“My apologies, I simply wanted- “
“You also stand accused, do you not know that?” she said, cutting him off.
Thorne spat blood as he laughed, gripping the blade and tearing it out of his flesh, getting to his feet as he found himself surrounded by the adepts again, their injuries all healed thanks to one elixir or the other.
“We sent a message to the Heralds, to the empire informing them of this situation!” Rowan said softly.
“Lies won’t help you” Aerin replied.
A loud explosion came from the skies above them, all their gazes turning up, watching as the Highlady of the undeath cult held one bleeding stump that refused to heal, panting softly even as several lord-rank death knights floated around her, seemingly summoned from thin air. She turned her gaze to Thorne who relished the thought of her being brought low like that, her gaze as cold as steel.
The Highlord of Talahan floated a few meters away wordlessly, eyes on her even as the main players began to gather. A burst of Ethra in the air slammed into Thorne who deflected it with one hand, taking the full brunt of the sword technique that tore towards him, his aura coalescing into a blade. He stared down the cold raging gaze of Alaric Verdan, the sword lord of the clan floating backwards as the Highlord of Talahan spoke.
“Just what has happened within our borders for such madness to occur?” he asked, his voice rolling wave of power.
“a rift duplicator, the Ark spire in shambles, have you forgotten the power of Talahan so easily?, Rowan Verdan?” he asked.
“This is all the works of the revenants,” Rowan said.
“I see, even the rift duplicator?” Varis asked calmly.
Rowan glanced at the spot where it was, and then back at the Highlord in silence who nodded.
“The capital had always had reasons to doubt you, Verdan, I hope you know what this means” he added.
“The Heralds are only concerned about the undeath for now,” Aerin said, voicing up for the first time, all gazes turning to her.
The Highlady glanced at her stump of an arm with black flames and sparks of lightning running around it and with cold detachment, tore it off from her shoulders, the entire limb going up in flames before it touched the ground, turning to ashes. With a wet sucking sound, another limb formed, the lady sighing in relief.
“Well, now that we’re all gathered here, perhaps it's time we talk like civilized cultivators, hmm?” she said.
Thorne noticed the gaze of Alaric on him, gripping the blade of the patriarch that tore violently from his grip and into the Highlord’s hand.
“The revenants encroached on our lands, we managed to hold them back while we held your former member captive, awaiting your presence,” Rowan said.
“Like I said, we received no such information,” Aerin said.
“Impossible, it was sent- “
“It wasn’t,” Alaric said calmly.
Rowan turned to him.
“What?” he said, as if not believing his ears.
“Celia betrayed us, betrayed the clan and the empire, she didn’t send the message,” Alaric said.
He opened his hand, his void ring shimmering as it spat something out, the items dropping to the ground with a wet sucking sound. Thorne’s eyes opened wide, a retching sound coming from behind them as a figure revealed itself, a female. Thorne cursed silently staring into the eyes of the trembling Elyria who stared at the heart and desiccated head on the ground.
“She joined them,” Alaric said with cold detachment.
Thorne looked from the head of lady Celia, to her father, and then back at the head.
“That’s sick, even for you,” he said softly.
“I testify that clan Verdan planned to betray the empire” Alaric started.
Rowan’s blade moved in the blink of an eye, going for his son’s neck only for Lady Aerin’s aura to grab the patriarch, halting him mid-swing.
“I just advanced to Highlady” she started.
“But even you aren’t blind to the difference between our skills, move again and your corpse will grace the manure fields of the capital itself” she completed.
Rowan’s eyes burned with rage as Alaric continued.
“In our hubris, we sought to grow to the strength of the royal clan, we collaborated with an artificer of the guild, but we were not in alliance with the revenants, this, I swear on my life” he finished.
They all felt the oath tighten around him before releasing him, Varis Talahan staring at him before turning his gaze to Rowan.
“By the authority of the emperor, I hereby strip clan Verdan of their title as wardens of the wastelands and border, what is left of your clan will face judgment at the capital,” he said.
Rowan raged as his aura flared, turning on Lady Aerin, her double-edged blade clashing with him even as she pushed him backward.
“a free for all!” lady Sabri said as Thorne went for her, blade swinging.
“By the authority of the ghoul king, seize,” she said.
Thorne felt his body lock up as he crashed to the ground, eyes wide, confusion on his face. she tapped her void ring, a large black shield appearing with a rune on it that glowed bright green. Black fire and lightning slammed into it the moment it appeared, the lady grabbing Thorne effortlessly.
“Oh well, my mission is almost done here,” she said audibly.
Varis opened his ring, a bow coming out as her expression changed into alarm.
“Are you mad?” she barked.
He simply drew its string back as an arrow materialized on it, its tip glowing with some sort of power that seemed to twist reality around it. the Highlady snarled.
“Defend me!” she shouted.
Thorne felt his body respond with wide eyes, watching as he forged a blade of flesh and bone, Varis releasing the arrow. Something within him reacted, his heart straining as it began pumping a power that wasn’t Ethra, said power coalescing in front of him in a rune shape that took the blow of the arrow. It was like reality detonated in front of them, the skies cracking as an incursion took shape right before their eyes, a pillar of burning blue fire manifesting and winged reptiles pouring out, each with the raw strength of a tier 4 beast.
Thorne felt all power drain from his body as the lady grabbed him again, his mouth unable to open in mute rage, an item in her hand as the Talahan Highlord glanced between the incursion that kept on spewing creatures to the Highlady.
“The ghoul king sends his regards,” she said as she threw the item in the air.
Reality tore asunder right in front of the Ark spire, swallowing it whole as Varis shouted in rage, drawing the string back again. The Highlady forged a spear from pure Ethra and aura, throwing it with all the strength she had, the weapon tearing through the space between Varis and her as the Highlord’s body blazed into an inferno, shattering the projected and imbued technique.
As the weapon shattered, so did the revenant Highlady vanish, appearing behind Varis who turned too late to clash with nothing, all eyes on Rowan who stared at the hole in his chest where his heart should be, and then to the bloodied hand of the Highlady who held Thorne in her other hand, shock as his eyes rolled up his head. With a grin on her face, she crushed a nexus key, allowing it to swallow her just as Aerin’s blade went for her neck, Thorne’s blade clashing with it, his eyes wide.
“Thorne!” a voice called out, dragging his attention down below where he stared with wide eyes at a new figure that appeared.
Tunde, clad in black robes, midnight starry eyes staring at him as he held Elyria, a myriad of expressions on his face.
And he was lord rank.
“One of yours?” Sabri asked mockingly.
Thorne turned his gaze to her, conveying the level of hatred in him, and it burned oh so bright, she laughed.
“you’d be perfect for him,” she said as she fell back into the portal, the shimmering skies of Necropolis around them.
He turned his gaze to the losing portal, where he could see Tunde holding a faint Elyria, confusion still in his gaze, and smiled.
“Forgive me,” he said, hoping his words were conveyed along.