Chapter 150:
Anton took another swig of a Dark Elven mana vial. Breaching the city shield, requiring three successive tethered lines of Lightning Rings and attacking the defenders with Lightning Crows, took almost everything out of him. Thankfully Kal killed the downed Principle Mages with her enchanted and guided arrows, reducing the amount of mana Anton expended significantly but he was still mostly depleted. The Dark Elf mana vials restored a significant portion of his mana, more than enough to continue supporting Leo’s forces. Although he was necessary he felt nothing more than a glorified battering ram. A well-paid battering ram and one kept very safe. Verona kept her blood shards close, Kal scanned the buildings and windows for any hidden archers while Cetina kept her tower shield raised and ready to absorb any errant arrow or bolt.
After taking down the second last gate, and allowed access into the heart of Clausonne’s castle city, only the central castle’s gate remained, Anton was ordered to hang back. The Knights and infantry needed to secure the area first. A small detachment of the White Dog Mercenary Company remained with them, for added security. And probably to increase Belinda’s input in this battle. She would need the political weight in order to-
“Cetina!” Kal yelled. “Come back.”
Kal loosed an arrow towards a roof. It struck something, a white-robed body tumbled over the edge, Cetina angled her shield to deflect the corpse until Verona directed a shard to propel the body away and into the ground.
“That was a little excessive,” Anton said.
Verona laughed. “I’m feeling a little pent up. Maybe…Maybe it’s the thing growing inside me messing me up.”
“Not now.” Anton forced a smile. Though he was very concerned with a potential child they couldn’t get distracted now.
Cetina pushed them off the street as a group of Knights, the same yellow Knights that accompanied Belinda, charged past. Some gave Anton a cursory nod and continued to ride into the city. Anton scanned the street for any further resistance. Harold’s forces weren’t entirely finished yet, though they were essentially broken.
They moved towards the last gate, dealing with several small groups of Church forces that hadn’t fled or surrendered. Bernard and Marcus stood nearby, their archers, Knights and infantry, were trying to shoot the few defenders on top of the last inner wall of the castle. These Church soldiers wore decent armour, not just white cloth, and used their defences well.
“A little help?” Marcus laughed. An arrow landed close, throwing up a small plume of dust alongside fragments of stone from the street. “They’re being a little stubborn up there.”
“Not a problem.” Anton smiled.
He directed the Lightning Crows to strafe the defenders. The archers ran for their lives, tumbling over each other to avoid the blasts. A hailstorm of arrows flew wildly into the air, Anton felt sorry for anyone that would be struck by a rouge arrow, but they didn’t hit a single Lightning Crow. Using the creatures like this was a little unfair but undeniably effective.
“How is the battle going?” Anton asked.
“No sign of those Stitch Soldiers?” Verona chimed in.
Bernard shook his head. “Not yet. Strange things…The only place left is inside the main castle. That might be the best place for them, where we can’t overwhelm them with numbers.”
“We’ll just need to use volleys of arrows or bolts,” Marcus said. He looked to the wall filled with screams, two archers jumped over the wall to avoid the lightning strikes, only at the last moment realising how far they had to fall. Marcus winced as they smashed into the ground. “Or that. If we can get a hold of them.”
“They’ll probably just regenerate again.” Anton mused. “But they clearly have some limit. Are you ready to move in?”
Bernard pointed down a street. Dismounted Black Rider Knights approached, all ready to fight.
“Alright then.” Anton summoned a Fire Octahedron. “Let’s get this thing over with.”
With the third Octahedron bomb the gate ripped clean open, throwing red hot stones and semi-molten iron in all directions. Verona shielded their side from any wayward flying stones. A single small metal gate, leading into the main castle was all that stood in their way. That and a huge wall of Stitch Soldiers, easily two hundred in number. These were extremely well armed and armoured but refused to advance. A plucky infantry tried to advance but a Knight grabbed and pulled him back, hard enough to lift the man’s feet off the ground.
“They’ve been told to kill anyone that gets past the gate.” Anton smiled. “They can’t understand complex orders so we’re safe, for now. But we’re not going to wait.”
“That’s too many for you,” Kal murmured. “Caiden…”
“I know.” Anton looked to Cetina. “Can you put down the portal stones?”
“Okay…”
Anton stopped just a step before the shimmering white portal. He created and released seven tethered flame pillars underneath the Stitch Soldiers.
“I’ll be back in thirty seconds.” Anton stepped through the portal.
He arrived back inside the Portal building in Atros. The Atros guards regarded him some slight confusion. Anton smiled, gave a single nod and counted down to thirty. He stepped back through, back to Clausonne and to a line of red hot stone before the castle gate. The Stitch Soldiers were simply not present, either evaporated or transformed into ash gently raining down upon them. Once light brown stone were now stained black with soot, but most importantly there was no one barring their way. Cetina quickly recovered the portal stones and stuffed them back into the bag.
“A little anti-climatic. Charge!” Marcus yelled. “Avoid the burning sections unless you’re stupid. Anton. Can you…”
Marcus looked to the ground as Kal grabbed Anton’s arm hard. For a moment Anton thought it was another Demon portal but she pointed down. The stone dust around their feet vibrated and shuddered, tiny rocks emerged as the smaller particles shifted below. Anton focused and he could feel something underneath his feet, something from inside the castle.
“Fall back!” Marcus waved at the charging Knights and Infantry. “Fall back now!”
The better trained Knights responded first, some had to grab the Infantry, as everyone began to retreat behind the gate.
“Even I can feel it now,” Verona mumbled.
Cetina rested her shield onto the stone ground. It rattled and clanged with the tiny vibrations.
“Another Caiden?” Anton asked.
Marcus shrugged. “Most of the Church soldiers we captured don’t know a lot. They’ve said that the leaders have been holed up inside the castle ever since the coup. Who knows what they’ve been doing. Not even Alfred’s spies could gain access.”
The last metal door opened, a church soldier, high ranking judging by his armour, squeezed through the tiny gap. His arm bled profusely. After taking a single step he recoiled back from the red hot stone, glanced up and smiled in genuine relief. An archer readied to strike the soldier down but Marcus ordered a halt. The Church soldier ran around the fires, only halting when a sword was almost thrust into his throat.
“You need to get out of here!” The man cried, grabbing a nearby soldier. “You need to run!”
“Small words,” Marcus ordered. The church soldier took a few short breaths. “What’s happening?”
“Something. Something big from the dungeons.” The man shook uncontrollably. “I don’t know what it was but it killed everyone! I ran away…You need to get out of here!”
The rumbling began to grow louder, no longer just a continuous shaking but now interspaced with deeper tremors. The Church soldier whimpered and tried to run away. Marcus ordered his men to capture him, the man was more than willing to be taken prisoner so long as they were taking him away from the castle.
Screams began to emanate from behind the castle door, cut short but a terrible crashing sound. The door opened again and a stream of Church Soldiers ran out, far more gravely wounded than the first. They were so terrified they didn’t see and ran straight through the red hot stones.
“Why are you running?!” Something growled from deep inside. The voice was wet and slurred its words. “You can’t fight without your weapons, you fools! Stop running!”
The fleeing Church Soldiers did indeed not wield any weapons, shields or even helmets. Anything easily discardable had been left behind to shed weight.
“I am the King!” The door groaned, metal twisting and groaning as something forced it open. “And you will listen to me! I wear the crown, no one else!”
Marcus looked to Anton, not exactly worried but just confused. Anton held the same expression, but underneath his heart was pounding.
“What’s happening?!” A shout came from behind. Leo, Bernard and Castor advanced on foot with a large detachment of Knights. “I thought you would have made it inside by now. It’s just an iron gate.”
“Bernard!” Marcus spared a glance for the door as it clanged again. A Church Soldier desperately tried to claw its way out but was drawn back in, screaming while bloody hands clawed at the stone floor. “Get Leo out of here. Now!”
“Understood.” Bernard nodded to Castor.
Castor raised the King high, ignoring his shouts of protest and slung him over his shoulder.
“Put me down!” Leo was more annoyed than angered. “I…”
The iron gate ripped free of its hinges, careening several meters across the ground while dragging a mutilated corpse of a Church Soldier flattened against the underside. Something moved in the darkness, something scraped along the stone walls. Anton readied to unleash another set of tethered fire rings but he lost concentration when it was exposed to the barest hint of the light. To say it was hideous was an understatement; a giant ape-like creature with the tell-tale skin and deep purple fissures of a Stitch Soldier slowly pulled itself forward on its knuckles. The wounds were not closed with black stitches, rather the worms had grown into thousands of twisted filaments that swung back and forth, some latching onto each other and ripping themselves apart only for a new set of worms to emerge. The face…What was left of it, was a bulbous and overly muscled parody of a human. Its jaw had essentially snapped off and swayed detached from his head, suspended by knots of flesh, the tongue was now just a bundle of the worms while its eyes were identical to Caiden’s. What was once a head of blonde hair had been stretched over its entire bulbous head, sparse and limp. The muscles of the beast rippled and tensed with an unimaginable strength as its right arm pulled itself forward, ripping stones bigger than Anton’s head free with seemingly no effort. Its worm eyes looked to the light and winced, the worms constricted around the bright centre just like an iris’s contraction. It continued to pull itself forward, though most of its body was still hidden by shadow.
“Where are my soldiers?” The beast asked, great blobs of saliva dribbled down its broken jaw, some spilling around the knots of worm flesh. “They are supposed to be here.”
“Harold?” Leo blinked repeated. He punched Castor’s head and sprung loose. “Harold! What happened to you?!”
The beast’s eyes snapped towards Leo. His bulbous face’s brows furrowed, a tongue licked the front of his face.
“Leo!” Harold snarled. “I am the King. Not you!”
“Was he dim?” Anton asked.
Leo shook his head. “No. He was smart. Just sickly…and weak.”
Harold’s left arm remained stuck in the stone corridor. He grunted and pulled himself free, finally into the light for all to see. Verona and Kal squeaked upon it coming into the light, Cetina managed to hold herself together, barely. The others weren’t doing so well. Leo was left utterly speechless.
While Harold’s right arm was relatively normal, at least humanoid and ape-like, and he used his knuckles to walk on, his left was anything but. It took Anton a moment to understand, to process, what he was seeing. It was almost the same as his right but the skin was far, far lighter, alongside a piece of white cloth was stuck in the folds of worms. Underneath lay the remains of a woman, stretched over his massive arm, with her stretcg head dangerously close to the ground and coveringthe back of his hand, her legs folding outwards off his elbow and flailing about loosely with every movement. One arm merged with his skin and disappeared underneath Harold’s knuckles, the other wrapped and embedded deep into his wrist, like a fleshy watch. Once long flowing hair had stretched, just like Harold’s, but great chunks of her skin were missing. With every movement of Harold’s hand it pulled the hair underneath, ripping it free. But, it was her stomach that brought bile to Anton’s throat. Her stomach had ruptured; two elongated hands, a mixture between normal flesh and the mutated Stitch Soldier’s grasped wildly at the air with slick clawed fingers. It whimpered, a baby’s cry.
“I…” Leo vomited, pushing the soldiers away. They were too stunned or scared to respond in any shape or form.
Harold crawled forward, great beads of saliva dripping free from his mouth. “You should be afraid.”
With every movement the woman’s body bounced and rocked about. Anton couldn’t find the words…
“I have received the blessing of The Holy Father himself. And I am now more than strong enough to kill you and Lila.” Harold licked his lips, a fleshy tongue lolling about inside his open mouth. “I might have some fun with her first.”
Anton was glad that Harold’s genitals had seemingly disappeared. He hoped they stayed that way.
Harold’s muscles tensed as he attempted a jump. Anton threw a Fire Lance and Kal an enchanted arrow. Both struck Harold in the face as he was about to launch into the air. He whimpered and swatted away the flames, unaware of the woman’s legs hitting his face.
“It hurts!” Harold whimpered. “It hurts. Mother. Where are you? It hurts!”
Harold’s overly muscled fingers ripped away pieces of skin on his face, only to regrow nearly instantly.
“Where are you?!”
“No…” Leo whimpered, shaking his head. “She’s right there.”
Harold looked back to the castle. “Where are you mother? Are you hiding from me?”
Anton threw another fire lance, striking him in his hind legs. Again his magic had been dimmed, not by much but the effect was noticeable.
“It hurts!” Harold stamped his rear leg. “You can come out. Please come out.”
Harold’s right hand held the stone wall as he peered inside.
“We…We are chosen by The Holy Father, just like you said. What do we possibly have to fear now?”
“He’s lost it,” Verona said softly.
The stones gave way underneath his tremendous strength. “Where are you? Valérie! Come to me now!”
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“She’s on your arm!” Verona shouted.
Harold pulled away from the entrance, the stone fragments dropping to the ground from his hand. He wasn’t angry. Merely confused.
“What?”
“She’s on your arm!” Verona pointed to her own left arm. “She’s right next to you.”
Harold looked to his left and raised his arm. His chest was just as impressive as the rest of his body. He frowned and looked at the ground, spared a glance at Verona and finally looked to his shoulder. One of the woman’s legs, presumably Valérie’s, slapped his face. Harold brushed it away with his face, just as his worm-riddled eyes widened in shock. He moved more upright, his legs were short but bulky to accommodate his weight, and pulled the skin around. A whimper escaped his lips as he pulled his skin down.
“Wh…What?”
Harold’s fingers tried to grasp around the leg and accidently tore it clean off. He let the leg drop before pawing at the rest of his arm. His fingers brushed against her ruptured stomach, where the small hands continued to claw hopelessly towards the sky. Unfortunately, he was simply too strong and broke the limbs off, crushing them flat against his skin. The baby creature screamed, Harold immediately panicked.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ll get you out of there.” Harold dug into his skin, underneath the broken arms and began to rip it free. “I’ll get your mother out of there next. Just you wait.”
“Stop this.” Leo whimpered. “Just stop. Please.”
Anton hadn’t attacked out of a morbid sense of curiosity. Unlike the Demons, no one had launched a panicked attack. After tethering seven fire rings together he released them underneath Harold. Harold paid the rapidly glowing stones no mind as he ripped something free from his arm. Anton couldn’t tell if there was actually a baby inside the massive bundle of flesh but Harold held a look reserved for a mother. The real mother’s arms and head rolled about lifeless as he gently began to stroke something at the centre, a strange lovingness to his face.
Harold stepped away from the castle just as the flaming pillars erupted into being. He screamed, throwing the baby bundle free of the flames to smash on the far wall. Harold screamed and writhed as the flames consumed his body. When the flames died down Harold emerged, badly burned and charred but still alive.
“This is going to be like Caiden all over again.” Anton mused. “This isn’t going to be good…”
Harold whimpered as the charred fragments fell away as fresh, unburnt skin took its place. He looked at Valérie’s burnt body. Her body wasn’t recovering, it remained a charred corpse with blackened stumps.
Harold began to tremble as his fingers traced over her head, crumbling into black dust that blew away with the updraft of the red stones. The trembling rapidly turned to anger.
“Here we go.” Anton created a Flame Lance. “Everyone, Attack!”
Harold scratched his feet on the ground. “I’ll kill you, Leo!”
Castor picked Leo up once again, threw him on the back of a horse and fled with all possible speed. Harold cared not, too consumed with rage, and gave chase. Anton pushed the girls forward and out of the gate while throwing several Flame Octahedrons at Harold’s face. These ripped through his skin, deep to his bones that were now far larger than a human’s. The worms began to rebuild as a Lightning arrow struck deep into his bone. Though it did little damage to his skin it crippled and stunned his arm. His weight carried him forward, the Knights and Infantry ran for their lives as he careened into the stone gatehouse. The soldiers tried to hack at his body but were struck by the writhing protrusions. Most were just knocked aside, broken bones and armour, but some were struck in the chest. They began shaking and writhing, the worms crawled underneath their skin.
Blood shards decapitated the unfortunate few and began to slice into Harold’s body. Verona grunted, the shards were cutting through but Harold’s regeneration was simply too quick. Even with the shards acting like a saw it couldn’t overcome him, several shards were completely consumed and buried within. Verona had to work extremely hard to rip them free and begin cutting again.
“It’s not working.” Verona clumped the blood together and drove a massive spike through Harold’s back. He shouted in pain but continued to rise up, even with his body ripping itself to pieces along the crystallised blood.
“How do we kill this thing?” Kal asked.
“The same way we did last time.” Anton fired a barrage of small fireballs. “A shit ton of magic and we’ll simply overcome its regeneration. Though we’ll need to be quick with this one.”
“Easy then.” Verona shattered her blood and threw the shards into his head.
Harold groaned in annoyance, smashed the shards away though Verona continued to stab his hand with the smaller fragments, and began to run after Leo.
“Stop him!” Marcus ordered.
“How?” A panicking Knight asked.
“Anyway, you can think of,” Marcus yelled, taking chase on foot. “Use your corpse if you have to.”
The Knight looked back to the dead partially transformed soldiers.
Following Harold wasn’t difficult. The monster was large, loud and left a trail of destruction in his wake. A few brave soldiers had tried to stop his charge but were either flattened, cast aside or had begun the transformation into a pseudo Stitch Soldier. Verona did what little they could and put them out of their misery.
“Where are you, Leo!” Harold yelled, his garbled voice echoed throughout the narrow city streets. “Where are you!”
Harold had cornered Leo in a dead-end street. Slowly Harold advanced, his hands ripping through the stone street. Castor raised his sword and tried to shield Leo behind him. Harold snarled and knocked Castor away with a simple swat. Bones broke and metal bent as he crashed into the nearby building. Leo backed away on his rear, too terrified to hold the sword and let it fall from his hands.
“I’m going to kill you, slowly, for everything you’ve done to me.”
Harold opened his jaw and swooped down upon Leo. Three tethered fire Octahedron’s smashed into his side, covering Harold in blinding hot flame and throwing his body into the building nearby. The wooden structure began to collapse around him as he tried to struggle free. Flames began to consume the building, hopefully it would become Harold’s tomb.
“King Leo!” A Knight reached the terrified King before they could, dragging him to relative safety.
Bernard dragged Castor away, unconscious and barely breathing, and was quickly healed by Anton.
“Thank you,” Castor whispered.
“Someone take him to safety,” Anton ordered. “Until Harold’s dead this isn’t over.”
The flaming building began to shift once again. Beams of burning wood tumbled free, Harold rose up but something was different about him. His jaw was closed and his mouth bloated. Something was sucked inside, Anton caught a flash of something pink. He stumbled out, Anton attacked him again to limited effect, and vomited out three people; a family hiding from the war outside; their eyes and skin were identical to Harold’s, the worms hard torn through their bodies to create a few writhing worm filaments sticking out from chest and back, even the young boy.
“Sick bastard.” Verona threw her shards at the infected family.
The boy didn’t dodge by the adults moved with a speed greater than even the Stitch Soldiers. They ran at the soldiers and, even unarmed, began to beat them back, literally smashing their hands into their metal shields. Their unarmed strikes dented steel and splintered wood. A quick strike from a sword, cleaving their head in two, did little to slow them down. Only when hacked into tiny pieces did they stop. A charge shot up Anton’s tail, slightly more than the Stitch Soldiers but still manageable.
“I can see a way forward now.” Harold chuckled, shrugging off another strike. “I just need more…”
Harold looked to the ruined building. Families moved forward to see what had destroyed their homes. Upon witnessing the horrible reality they recoiled and the young children screamed. Harold licked his lips, the fleshy worm tongue pushed through the gaps in his cheeks.
“Get out of there!” Bernard yelled. He threw a spear into Harold’s back, alongside another barrage of attacks from Anton and Verona.
Harold paid them no mind as he crawled up and ripped through the building. Though hidden by his bulk Anton heard the families scream, screaming in painful transformation and begging to not be let go, begging to any god to save them.
Anton used what charge he had to create a Marble Spear.
“Cetina?” Anton didn’t look away from the transforming Marble Spear. “Can you do something for me?”
“Yes?” Cetina looked back nervously. “What could you possibly want from me right now?”
Verona and Kal shared the same expression.
Anton grasped the Marble Spear tight. “Killing Harold will create a lot of…charge, for me. It’ll definitely reach the base of my spine. I don’t know if something happens if it does, but if I start to change, into something like that…I want you to cut my head off.”
“What?” All three yelled.
Verona grunted, directing the shards away from Harold and to twenty transformed people charging towards them. They were fast and strong enough to shrug off a few crossbow bolts, except to the head, and some fast enough to doge Verona’s blood shards.
“What do you think you’re saying?!” Verona grabbed his collar hard, shaking him back and forth.
Anton held her hand tight as he readied to throw the spear. “You know exactly what I’m saying and why.”
Verona angrily barred her teeth. She said nothing and thumped his chest. “Don’t lose yourself if something happens. You have a lot of people that you’ll disappoint if you die. Not to mention our children. And everything else…So don’t you dare become anything like that!”
“I won’t.” Anton nodded. “I’ll think of something, I just don’t want to leave anything to chance.”
Verona thumped his chest again. “You’d better not!”
Cetina grit her teeth but still gripped her sword tight.
Verona focused her attention on the fight before them. Harold began to climb again, eating more people and hitting others with the worm protrusions bursting through his skin. He thrust his hand into a level, retracting it with screaming people attached to his fingers, kicking in desperation as the transformation ripped through their bodies, the few not affected desperately trying to pull their doomed loved ones free.
Anton threw the Marble Spear, sinking deep into Harold’s fleshy back, the shaft exploded and disintegrated but the tip remained. The white corruption spread far slower than even Caiden’s, through the thought tether Anton could actually feel Harold’s deepest emotions; anger but mostly fear. Not fear of him, or of any form of violence, but simply being alone, like he was stuck in a well and couldn’t get out. Perhaps things could have been different, a different path could have been set for Harold, but such things no longer mattered.
“Don’t hit that part,” Anton yelled. “I might be able to end this!”
“You heard him,” Marcus yelled. “Target the legs and arms. And the transformed people.”
Harold clawed at his back as the white markings continued to spread. Verona transformed her blood into a large blade and cut deep into Harold’s left arm. He screamed, not from the pain but the knowledge Verona had just destroyed what little remained of Valérie. The sudden burst of pain brought a tiny hint of lucidity to Harold, quickly consumed by whatever created the Stitch Soldiers and Anton’s own corruption.
“How dare you!” Harold threw back his hand, ripping the transformed people free and sending them timbling onto the stone street. They immediately rose up and began to charge. “How dare you hurt her! After everything she’s done for me…I had someone that actually loved me.”
“You killed her,” Anton mumbled, not intending for Harold to hear.
Anton threw another Marble Spear at Harold. This landed in the back of his leg, again beginning the transformation. Only one tether came from Harold but the resistance to Anton’s will was slowly eroding.
“No!”
Harold grabbed his transforming leg well above the corruption and began to tear it free. A giant blood shard drove into his hand and deep into the leg. The wound caused an eruption of worms and knitted the wounds together.
“Get out of my head!”
Harold rolled his fused leg over a large wooden beam, fighting Verona’s blood shards, and drove the wood deep into his flesh. A flash of pain flew into Anton’s head, just a signal, as Harold gripped down hard and ripped his leg free. The white corruption jumped forward and consumed the limb, Anton still couldn’t control it but Harold was definitely heavily wounded. Slowly the worms began to squirm and reform the leg. Anton threw a Fire Lance at the recovering wound, shredding the new worms.
Anton ordered his few remaining summons to attack Harold. The soldiers behind, firing a volley of arrows and bolts, shouted in surprise as small Fire Imps ran through their feet. They leapt up the destroyed building and dove onto Harold’s back. Their small flaming swords and claws hacked at the fleshy tendrils erupting from his hide. While they couldn’t cut deep the flames caused some damage and kept Harold occupied as the white corruption continued to consume his body. Half of his back had turned white, Anton still didn’t have any control over Harold yet.
Harold pushed himself further into the building as a volley of magic, large shots of fire, ice, earth and fire struck Harold’s rear. It was their Principle Mages finally reaching the battle. In the distance Anton saw the red gleaming of the Red Salamanders approaching.
“Don’t stop!” Anton yelled.
The Mages responded with another blast of magic. Anton wanted to use more powerful fire magic, the most effective attack against the Stitch Soldiers, but the threat of creating a firestorm was too great. The Principle Mages held his reservations.
Verona grabbed Anton’s hand. “I’ll cut open his back, then you hit him with everything you’ve got left.”
Verona’s blood coalesced into a giant spike that rammed through Harold’s remaining leg, the other continued to slowly regenerate. Harold grunted and threw back another batch of infected humans. Verona grunted and pulled Harold back with all her might. He slipped free, leaving a batch of partially infected humans on the levels above. She broke a part of the blood free and rammed it into his back, close to the Marble Spear’s point, and pulled it apart. The writhing worms tried to knit the gaping wound together but Verona broke off tiny fragments to cut the worms as they flailed wildly in the air. Anton threw a barrage of Fire and Lightning Octahedron bombs into the hole. Harold screamed, great plumes of charred flesh and acrid smoke flew into the air, but Anton felt the tether shatter. The explosion destroyed the tip of the Marble Spear, the white corruption began to fade away.
Harold began to sway back and forth, Anton downed as many Dark Elf mana vials as he could, and released a lightning ring over Harold. The former king struggled to remain upright. Verona ripped her shards free, the wound slowly healed itself, and drove them into his shoulders and hips. Harold screamed as he was dissected, Verona ripping and pulling the limbs clear. Anton directed the two remaining Fire Imps to destroy the worms attempting to pull Harold back together.
“Stop!” Harold pleaded. “Stop, please!”
Anton knew Harold couldn’t be trusted, if it even was him in there anymore. He and the mages attacked the main body, again and again, burning and ripping at his wounds, driving deep into the fleshy mass. Slowly the regeneration began to slow as Harold’s angry pleas turned to pathetic whimpers. The worms from his limbs slowly lost their vigor and fell limp. Harold tried one last time to rise up but Verona wasn’t going to let him. She drove all of her blood directly behind his head, impaling him into the ground. With a final shudder Harold collapsed. Life, such as it was, was leaving him. His severed limbs lay scattered near the broken and still burning buildings, scattered amongst the hundreds of people he had transformed. He tried to pull himself up but Verona stabbed him again in the chest. Harold whimpered and collapsed onto the ground. Everyone kept their weapons trained, the Principle Mages held their staves tight through quick breaths and shaking fingers, but Harold refused to rise again.
“Is that it?” A Knight asked, the first person to speak after what felt like an age.
“Not yet.” Anton summoned another two Fire Imps as Leo and Lila pushed their way through the crowds.
Leo and Lila approached Harold’s incapacitated form, united in their hatred and disgust of their brother. Verona turned Harold away from the building to face his siblings. The strain caused Verona’s shards to dig in deep, rupturing part of his face. Harold grunted, a single worm-riddled eye looked up at them, constructing in anger but quickly faded away.
“Are you here to gloat?” Harold snarled through his broken, rolling jaw. “Gloat that your little brother got what he deserved? That he actually fought for something when he was given nothing?!”
Verona drove the spike deeper.
“Nothing…” Lila shook her head. “You honestly thought you had nothing? Throughout our entire lives we’ve never had to want for anything, you especially. I’ve spent nearly every waking day since the coup starving, thirsty and worrying that I might be raped and sold into slavery. Or sent to you. While you were living here…with our mother…”
Lila shook her head. Her face contorted in revulsion upon looking at Valérie remains fused with Harold’s arm. She gently held Leo’s hand and walked away, not sparing Harold another moment.
“Lila? Lila!” Harold tried to rise up on his stumps. “Don’t walk away from me!”
“I honestly don’t think she cares.” Leo smiled at Harold, only eliciting a glare of anger. “And to be honest, I don’t have much energy left for you. What…What is there to say? What could we possibly say to each other now?”
Harold, for a single moment, appeared genuinely remorseful. He looked over the destruction, the dirty sweat covered soldiers then to the burning buildings trailing smoke into the sky.
“How did you become like this?” Leo asked. “You clearly didn’t do this to yourself.”
“If I find Abeau I’ll kill him.” Harold snarled. The realisation that he would never get that chance washed over him. “That man did this to me?”
“And did you kill him?”
“I don’t know. I just know that he’s alive.”
Leo looked at Anton, rubbing his eyes with his mailed fist. “The castle has many secret passageways. Abeau had more than enough time to find them all. He’s long gone by now.”
Leo turned back to Harold. “Farewell, brother. Tell Giles that he was the second most foolish of us. At least he didn’t become…this.”
Leo shook his head and walked away. Harold tried to speak but couldn’t find the words. His jaw flapped open but it quickly fell loose, collapsing alongside the rest of his body. The remaining eye focused on Anton.
“So, heretic, will you be the one to kill me? Are you going to corrupt my mind again?” Harold’s body shuddered. The worms began to move once again. Endurance was their kinds most prominent advantage. “That black lightning eating away at my every thought? I don’t know much about magic but I know that you can’t have much left in you.”
Anton downed the last mana vial. “That’s the last one I can have today.” He began searching through the rubble for a large stone. “But there are ways to kill you without having to use that much magic. And I don’t want to be nearby when you die.”
Harold laughed.
“I’d really like to know what type of magic was used to create you.” Anton found a large enough stone. “Not so I could make more of you, but to understand what happened. I presume that the place that made you is still in one piece?”
“No idea.” Harold’s legs began to regrow, the mages looked with rapidly increasing concern. “I can’t remember that far back.”
“We have time. Cetina? Could you set up the portal?”
Cetina gave a curt nod.
“Verona? Cut deep just behind his head and get ready to move this into it.” Anton held the stone tight. “Tethra, Goddess of Prayer, in ten seconds make this stone burn with the heat of lava until the sun sets.”
“What’s lava?” Harold nervously chuckled.
Verona’s blood shards cut deep into Harold’s neck, took the stone from Anton’s hand and hurriedly dropped it inside. The worms knitted themselves around the stone, trapping it deep inside his body.
The portal back to Atros burst into life. Anton kept himself but one step away from passing over the white disk. Harold’s bemused face instantly turned to excruciating pain. Rancid smoke burst through his skin, ripping apart his flesh as it began to glow. His mouth acted like a chimney and stream of smoke, interlaced with spurts of burning worms and boiling drops of dark purple blood. Harold tried to struggle up, not that he could do anything to remove the stone deep within him, but Verona broke apart her blood shards and impaled his regrowing limbs, keeping him pinned as he boiled from the inside out. There was no cheering, no elation or anything remotely positive in the faces of the survivors.
“Keep pushing him into the flame until he’s all gone,” Anton said softly. “Don’t leave anything behind.”
The girls nodded glumly but no one said a word.
Harold was right.
What more was there to say?