62.

Erak watched with bated breath as the prow of the Sword of Empire lit with crimson energy. The lance of energy raced across the sky in the blink of an eye and slammed into the guardian above Erak’s head. Heat crushed him,driving him to his knees as the world burned red for long seconds.

A clarion scream broke out and black-gold blood splashed down upon the scorched earth, buckets of it splashing about to sink into the scoured ground. The Sword’s engines flared and a burst of light emanated from its flanks as it surged across the city in seconds. Secondary weapons fired, bursts of crimson and gold as individual cannons cut into the guardian, each blast sending the titanic being deeper into the portal, chains rattling as it fled.

Its sword swept across the distance and a burst of fire lashed out and gouged a line of armor free of the great warship as it titled, trying to avoid the flash of unholy fire in vain. Secondary explosions rippled along the warship, but it didn’t slow its fire as a second charge began to build.

Erak turned to walk back into whatever protection the cathedral offered him from the clash, when he saw shades beginning to rise from the ground. Wisps of either golden or black energy, each of them pale shadows of who they used to be. Imperial Soldiers and citizens made of sparse golden light while the demons were inky smudges against the charred ground.

Pomp leapt from his chest, his blue form streaked with smears of ash and burns, scales flaked free as his incorporeal form shimmered weakly. Erak restrained a gasp at seeing the ethereal spirit so heavily wounded, but the dragon didn’t hesitate as it leapt at the shades.

Pomp’s opened his jaws wide and bit a piece of the closest inky shade and ripped at it as a blue glow began to coalesce around him. He raked his long claws up and down the creature, dispersing the shade away. The moment he did so, he leapt at the closest golden shade and inhaled, drawing the gold light into himself.

Erak watched as the blue spirit dragon’s wounds sealed over, the glow around him growing stronger as the burn marks faded away. Erak turned away as Pomp ran rampant over the field of shades, consuming the golden light while working hard to disperse the black corruption. Even as he turned he knew that Pomp wouldn’t be able to finish off all of them, the veritable sea of Essence fueled shades rose up wherever the guardian’s blood splashed the ground.

The cool atmosphere washed over Erak as he walked back into the cathedral and he looked over the ruins of the cathedral. Blasts of light and heat struck the doorway and then froze solid in place, none of the latent energy trespassing into the Iron Cathedral.

“The Cathedral still guards our people. Even desecrated as it has been,” a raspy voice rang out and Erak spun to see a frail form moving across the soiled stone. He wired the garb of an Iron Priest, gray robes and a black diadem that held a ruby at the brow. Black Iron cuffs encircle his wrists and his bare feet padded in near silence.

As he got closer Erak could see the blood caking the man and realized he was younger than Erak had thought. The priest looked to be in his early middle ages, his black hair having just the faintest slivers of silver at the temple. Erak turned and looked at him and gripped his dragonbone sword tighter.

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“Thank you for the distraction. Their Inquisitors were quite thorough, but a full on assault and duel feet away did draw their attention,” he said as he stood a few feet away from Erak. Erak looked down at the Iron Priest’s hands and saw the prosthetics on the man’s hands. Fingers given to the gods and replaced with cold iron.

Fingers sharpened to deadly points and had scraps of flesh still lodged in the carefully articulated joints. Erak watched those flexing fingers with care.

“Unfortunate that the rest of my siblings did not survive the Inquisition,” the priest said solemnly, bowing his head and murmuring a few words.

Erak stared at him.

“The sanctity of the Cathedral is failing, but the remnants of the faith will protect us from that cursed being. For now. It could not pass the Cathedral as the portal opened, it was forced to send its minions.”

Erak turned and looked up at the open doors and then back at the priest feeling tired. He set down his blade and tugged his gauntlets off and signed to the priest.

“There are no other survivors?”

“Ohhh, Silent Tongue! Yes, none else survived. It was just a few of us here, most of my brethren were out at the procession and we were just preparing for the Coronation of the Northern Queen. The flash of light and the notifications alerted us…but by the time we recovered that thing was already in the Cathedral,” the Iron Priest pointed down to the dead knight.

As he did so the entire Cathedral shook as the largest flash of light yet detonated outside, streaming through the shattered windows to bleach the walls white. Both Erak and the priest huddled on themselves as it felt like gods had descended to do battle mere feet away.

“It is a strange thing, this. To be stuck here as the symbol of our people does battle with…whatever that is.” He had paused as the cathedral shook again.

“Are there anyways out of here? Underneath?” Erak asked.

“No. That is not our way. One entrance. You are a heathen, yes?” he blurted suddenly.

“Does it matter?” Erak asked, not caring for the Priest. The world shook again as another blast of light lit the cathedral.

“Probably not. Our bastion of civilization is under attack and our gods could not rouse themselves to our defense.It has been many years since they’ve stalked this plane. I had thought perhaps this would have been enough to draw them back,” the priest fell silent as he sat on a partially destroyed pew and rested his hands on his knees.

There was a sucking sound as air filled a void, wind stirred across the cathedral as Erak looked up through the windows to see the purple bruise aura disappear from the sky. He rushed out of the doors and looked up to see the sword dominating the sky, fires raging across her scarred hull as she hovered there where the portal had once been.

Erak looked at the burnt grounds and the thousands of shades that drifted across the ground. The thin black whisps were merging together, growing more corporeal as as Pomp raced about slashing and tearing apart them as fast as he could. The golden whisps were consumed, driven to the ground and consumed by the other shades while every time that Pomp got close to the golden whisps he ate them, most of his wounds healed.

Erak stepped down the steps and hit the ground, feeling the heat wafting up from the ground. He looked at the shades as they drifted about and then punched at one of the black shades and was frustrated as his hand passed right through it.

“Essence skills are needed, Erak. They are like me, primarily in the spirit realm,” Pomp said as he bounced toward him and crawled on his shoulders. You have new levels and should be able to pass and gain another skill, one that will grow our strength. I suggest that you take it,” Pomp said in a rush as Erak watched the rush of shades growing in power.