Osias’s head jerked around towards the ferocious roar. It echoed off his surroundings, and he felt the mountain quake. All of a sudden, he scrambled in confusion. He knew nothing. Was it the horde? His stomach lurched, and he ran for his scabbard and quickly draped himself in his cloak. It was dark out, and the fire they had smoldering had already died, but Dyrus’s and Laria’s light would suffic—
A tremendous crash sounded, followed by thundering steps in the distance.
He raised his eyebrows in alarm, and his mind raced to decide what to do. Too little information he thought sourly, and the approaching presence already kicked up a storm of dirt and dust before he could distinguish its appearance.
He already deemed that whatever was approaching was something he couldn’t outrun, so he planted and steeled himself in the black of night and raised his sword.
But as the figure fired past between the clearing of trees… it was just Kiran — full of earnest alarm.
“We have to go!” Kiran boomed, already grabbing a hold of him, dragging him from the crutch of his cloak.
He gave a small yelp in surprise but quickly got over it and asked:
“What happened?”
Between large strides and swift barrels toward the mountain’s summit, Kiran uttered:
“The Brood Mother and the mist. Something… something’s changed, the mist is rising.”
Osias quickly snapped his head down, trying his absolute best to see past the darkness. But there were too many obstacles obscuring the view, even if the night sky illuminated the familiar speckling mist, he could only take his brother’s word for it.
Quickly they approached the mountain summit, but as they did he heard thundering charges like their own in the vast distance. It seemed as though the closer they approached the summit, the more that mountain quaked in response.
‘The hounds!’ He immediately thought.
They weaved between trees and forestry until they bolted past the treeline — now steep cliffs and tumbling stones riddled the steps ahead.
But Kiran was as nimble as he was strong. A delicate blend of leaps, springs, and scaling brought them ever closer to the summit. He traversed the mountain with ease as though he was an experienced mountain brigand.
Osias continued to look at their rear, and now he could see it — the mist too had broken past the treeline, rapidly approaching them. The same dreadful mist they had so direly avoided all this time was rising!
Such a thing didn’t seem possible. For months they have wearily avoided it…
The trees cracked and creaked, possibly even the ground below it as well, the mist devoured everything it came across. It was thick and ever-encompassing, the air laden full of it.
He wished he could see what was happening within its tightly sealed veil, perhaps it was a telling of their coming fates.
The pair continued upwards, grueling scaling the rocky swathes of the mountain, and slowly as the summit narrowed, the barreling sounds of the hounds came closer and closer, just as the mist did from below.
Then, with a growl, Kiran hurled him up — it seemed that they had scaled high enough as now they shared common quarters with the hounds.
And then his face paled. Before them was uprisen land, speckled with hounds. It didn’t seem like it was the brood in its entirety as Osias brandished his short sword, far from it. But it was more than enough.
But their brood mother was nowhere to be found.
Glancing behind him, Kiran’s worn face was grim, already wielding his great crimson glaive.
‘We can’t run from this one,’ He realized as he peered past Kiran, below the steep slopes that led to their position.
‘Can I do it? He thought. His sword arm trembled slightly, before firmly tightening his grip.
“Osias,” Kiran bellowed.
He then felt the rough touch of his brother on his back. Then something… changed. Something sprouted on his back, stretching and growing from that point as it tightly pressed down his cloak against his skin.
Looking downwards, he saw it — a dark crimson leathery-like armor cladded his body. It was oddly fitted, some parts awkwardly large or tight against his body. Its appearance was strange as well, it was unlike the armor made by the crafters of the Band. Uncanny, yet intricate details were embroidered all over the surface, and Osias recalled his brother’s words on True Extraction.
How he must be familiar with the forms he makes, otherwise they’ll be crude and rough.
“It’s not perfect. I’m unfamiliar with your size and it takes a great deal of concentration. Though it is of the Second Ordeal, my glaive lost most of its strength. Don’t reave from your kills, I need them for my glaive.”
Kiran looked grim, they were going to need every bit of strength to survive for him to decide to adorn him in such valuable armor, albeit temporarily.
Osias will have to fight as well.
He looked at the great deal of deadly hounds in front of them, tens of First Ordeal hounds and more than a dozen Second Ordeals.
All of them were overwhelmed by bloodlust at the sight of the brothers despite appearing slightly weary from the climb to the summit. It seemed that despite climbing on all fours, it was still a treacherous labor.
And without warning, they began to dash toward him and Kiran.
The summit was rugged, with odd risings and jagged stones that littered the ground. A cutting cold wind penetrated his ill-fitted armor.
Nevertheless, Osias braced himself. His eyes darted from one hound to another, quickly gauging their speed and approach.
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"Steady," Kiran barked out, his voice a low growl as he hefted his glaive. The long, curved blade gleamed menacingly in the waning light. He planted his feet firmly, knees poised, ready to spring into battle.
The first wave of First Ordeal hounds reached them, their snarls filling the air. Osias moved swiftly, his short sword slicing through the air in a precise, downward arc. His feet pivoted smoothly on the rocky ground, essence fueling his strike. The blade connected with a First Ordeal hound's neck, the impact reverberating up his arm as the creature fell, blood spraying from the wound.
Beside him, Kiran swung his glaive in a wide, sweeping motion. The weapon cut through the air with a deadly whistle, cleaving through two hounds in a single, powerful strike. And then he bolted forward as he quickly extracted the blood from its corpse
Kiran was indomitable, his weight shifting effortlessly from one foot to the other as withstood the brunt of the attack. His hulking body dug deeply into an impression into the ground from the force.
Claws and cackling maws then took countless pieces of his flesh, but Kiran punished them direly for it in return.
Osias dodged to the side as another hound lunged at him, its fangs bared. He twisted his shoulders, bringing his sword up in a swift slash that opened a deep gash along the beast's side. It yelped in pain, and collapsed at his feet. He quickly rushed ahead behind Kiran, mindful to be close to Kiran and away from the rising mist.
Kiran's movements were fluid and controlled, his glaive a bloody extension of his own body. He spun, using the momentum to drive the blade into the chest of a Second Ordeal hound. The creature let out a guttural howl before crumpling to the ground, its essence whisked away immediately.
"Keep your focus!" Kiran barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. Osias nodded, his breath coming in quick, controlled bursts as he fended off another as they advanced higher. But he was pincered, Two weak mutts clawed at him while finally a Second Ordeal shifted its target to him.
It pounced from behind its weaker counterpart and crashed into Osias, sending him into a violent tumble. Fortunately, it wasn't far and downwards.
It wrestled with Osias’s free arm, threatening to pull it apart from his body, but the crimson armor held. Osias quickly berated the frenzied hound with his sword, hacking into its head crudely despite the crushing pressure pressing into his arm.
But it was enough, his sword cut the muscles used to close its jaw into a bloody mess, and it loosened with a howl of pain. More First Ordeals stormed at his feet, but they could do nothing against his gaunt armor.
Suddenly, a sharp whistle sounded in the air behind the Second Ordeal, and it was quickly bisected as a monstrous glaive passed through in a sea of red. Kiran seemed thoroughly attentive despite being in the heart of the chaos.
Osias shook off his daze and shot to his feet, following Kiran.
The brothers fought with a deadly synergy, despite the great differences between them. Osias's short sword was quick and precise, and although the Second Ordeals outclassed him dearly, he could hold them off just until Kiran hammered down the killing blow.
Kiran's glaive provided a broader range of attack, its great sweeping arcs creating an area of death for the hounds, and if they used numbers to cross this area, he’d punch and stomp on them until their heads caved in. He didn't care if they traded flesh as long as the hounds died.
Osias could've sworn he saw Kiran bite at a hound's throat whilst it was gnawing away at his forearm.
Even through the advance, Kiran grounded himself. Despite multiple Second Ordeals wrestling against him, he’d quickly redirect them and keep Osias in the best possible area away from the brunt.
As the hounds' numbers began to dwindle, the air grew thick with the stench of blood and sweat. Osias's muscles burned with exertion, but he pushed through the fatigue as his essence blazed. The world dissolved into a red mist. He stabbed slashed and cut. A hound was gutted and immediately Kiran extended forth to extract from it….
With Kiran leading them Osias could survive.
Even if he lost his footing amidst the rugged ground.
Even if a hound’s maw tightened around him.
Even if he was growing weak from the bits of venom from the penetrating blows…
Kiran was indomitable, with time his glaive passed through them increasingly easier. But he lost a hand at some point, forgotten along with the large chunks of flesh missing from the countless swipes of claws.
Blood Mend furiously sought to close the wounds and regrow anew, simultaneously fighting off the venom that attacked him from within.
It was in moments like these that one could see how fearsome a Blood Path Finder was.
‘This is but a fraction of the horde… did they fall from the mist? That cry earlier, it was the brood mother, what happened?’ Kiran thought as his broad-headed glaive passed through the necks of multiple First Ordeal hounds gnawing at Osias.
Rapidly, Kiran bolted towards a steep rising from the earth after directing Osias to it, finally finding something to fight with their backs against.
He narrowly avoided the wall of abominations, leaving a wicked trail of corpses in his wake.
He made sure to never allow his concentration to falter, retaining the form of True Extraction in both his glaive and Osias’s makeshift armor. He could feel it. It was as though he had to keep the image of the structures constantly flowing as though they were made of water. So many times it has happened — the armor dripping as it came apart and his glaive losing its edge.
His mind was languid from how many things he had to keep track of. From Osias, True Extraction, the terrain and being mindful of the rising mist.
‘Though… it’s slowing down, it won’t reach us.’
Bracing a daunting attack from a Second Ordeal, he let it gnaw against the stump of an arm as he saved Osias from having his neck snapped beneath the heavy foot of a hound. His younger brother had lost his footing and staggered to his knees amidst the rubble and corpses.
“Lower your head!” He barked out to him, as his glaive swiped at the feverish drooling hound that sought to bite Osias’s head off.
He then slammed down on the gnawing hound with his bloodied stump and furiously stabbed it through its head. Reaching down he used True Extraction as it fiendishly fed into his glaive.
It was about the First Ordeal as they started fighting, but the vast swathe of corpses brought it back to just below the limits of the Second Ordeal.
The glaive ferociously snuffed the vigorous lives of the hounds with growing ease, taking their strength to feed its own.
At this point of the slaughter, only a few Second Ordeals remained. Kiran was badly maimed, and Osias was battered. It was unfortunate, but Kiran’s focus faltered briefly as a trio of hounds miraculously displayed a show of unexpected coordination. And although he extinguished the product that their twisted minds scrabbled together, Osias’s arm was crumpled beneath another’s ruthless canines.
He didn’t realize how severe of a wound it was until he saw Osias oddly favoring one hand as he swung his sword later. The boy didn’t cry or scream even as his arm got mangled…
And so they fought on. Both having an arm rendered useless, continued to fight against the now sparse crowd. Eventually chasing after the pack through the steep rocky summits. Kiran’s vigor never waned, and Osias followed despite his hobbled and limped steps — sword in hand.
The rabble began to disperse, some even plunged into the mist choosing death from the unknown over steel.
….Though, the very mist in question has miraculously halted its ascent, now eerily suspended at such a stark elevation compared to just moments before the battle. Yet there was still enough land to house both brothers and a few hounds.
Although neither Kiran nor Osias wished to share house with such foul creatures.
And with a dreary stab piercing through the withers of the final First Ordeal hound, Osias left it gasping and whimpering for breath in its final moments, only for Kiran to slam the butt of his glaive upon its head.
It strewn the rocks with blood, but Kiran’s True Extraction eagerly took its fill.
With the onslaught over, Osias wobbled and dropped to his back. Between heavy breaths, he looked up only to find himself awash with wet clouds.
‘Right… we are — are this high after all.’
Despite fighting through a dreadful battle he has yet to see the likes of before, Osias found that the view atop the peak was bracing.
Meanwhile, Kiran began to slowly descend the lowered land, leaving Osias atop the jagged steps of the summit.
Slow steps, steady and careful as he made his way, right above where the mist suspended itself.
With a harsh scowl, he curiously dipped a hand into the mist. He let it sit in the mist for a few seconds. And a few seconds stretched into minutes.
And as he pulled his hand, he slightly raised his eyebrows.
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing at all…’