Dimitrii

The moment they were sure both sacred artists were gone, the two Judges who had fought them visibly relaxed.

“Damned heathens!” One of them hissed. Dimitrii didn’t know their names — he didn’t need to. His purpose was to do the will of the Lord of Light and that was all.

A hand clamped over his throat, crushing his windpipe and he was hurled up. His feet dangled in the air looking for purchase.

“Remember your place, clone. Never forget it. As much as this ruse may please you, it won’t last! Step out of line again and I will end you myself.”

The Judge flung him against a tree with so much force that the tree shattered. He felt no pain from that, but his throat burned in pain. He couldn’t speak, only coughing up blood. He quickly took off his mask to administer a healing potion from his storage bag.

The cool sensation of the potion as it washed down his throat relaxed his mind and muscles as he lay beside the destroyed tree. An itching sensation spread through his neck as tissues began to repair themselves and his collapsed windpipe drew in much needed air on reflex.

It hurt so much to even breathe. Damn these Judges and their ego!

“Get up, clone!” The other Judge roared, his voice, just as condescending as the first. “Send a message to control. This is not the last we shall see of those two. Onwards.”

The two continued on their horses as if a comrade wasn’t being left behind. Dimitrii quickly got up and got on his horse. He was limber than the Judges so it took him less time than it did them. He snorted inwardly. Their huge, unwieldy arses couldn’t save their lives if they ever lost their powers.

After catching up with them, they continued their long match into the jungle. Dimitrii kept searching the skies as they rode but no angel of death rained fire on them… yet. Their horses were built for terrain like this but sacred artists could fly. And since the sacred artists had destroyed nearly all the gravisars in this region, they were most likely airborne. If only they had direct contact with control.

Night came but they continued on in the dark. Dimitrii wanted to suggest they stop and rest for the night but that would only bring him trouble so he kept mute, following like the Messenger he was. He didn’t have to wait too long though.

Something bit into the magical focus at the back of his neck, severing his connection to it. Dimitrii quickly covered his whole body with light but he was lifted off his horse by his neck and pulled backward.

“It’s an assault!” he heard one of the Judges say. “We’re surrounded!”

“Yes, by puny sacred artists, remember?” the other replied.

He was smacked into a tree and the Light Shield he had conjured shattered. The thing around his neck tried to squeeze but his guard was up already, his defenses tighter now.

The sound of fighting filled the air as the Judges began hurling beams of light at their enemies, brightening up the night’s sky in the process. Something heavy hit him in the chest and he felt something crack. Thankfully it wasn’t his ribs. Whoever hit him was moving so fast that it was nearly impossible to see them. Another hit sent him spinning through the air. He heard his mask crack.

“What… The… Fuck!?” he roared in anger.

The moment he hit the ground, he activated the Veil Arcana. A veil of divine light surrounded him and blasted the heathen away. Dimitrii stood, covering his body in divine light once again and shattering the thing around his neck in the process. The heathen was already up. Damn their enhanced physiology. If only Messengers could move like that. But then he noticed something.

“You… How are you dressed like an Elite?” Dimitrii asked, looking over the lapels of the heathen’s long coat. Lapels he’d only ever seen on Judges. Long flowing black hair covered him from head to back and eerily glowing, silver eyes stared back at him. “What trickery is this?”

The heathen attacked.

~~~

Achilleia, this guy’s weaker than the other two. How is that?

“That’s because he’s a Messenger parading as a Judge. They’re trying to trick us. Or trick Vorthe…”

“Jerome, I can’t get inside their heads,” Csala’s voice reached him. “These Judges are fucking strong!”

“It’s the helmets,” Nyx said. She sounded calm and in control but the force of the blows he could hear from her general direction were anything but.

“Don’t push yourselves too hard.” Jerome activated the jade in his ring and attacked.

Let’s end this, Achilleia. Right before he hit the Messenger, he activated his diamond as well.

The Messenger covered himself in light, forcing Jerome to draw back. He sent spikes of earth toward the Messenger but the giant absorbed the essence contained in them. The earth spikes shattered as they hit him to no effect.

“You can do no harm to me, heathen,” the Messenger said in a mechanic voice. Deep blue eyes glowed in the depths of his skull-shaped helmet.

Jerome didn’t respond. Instead he stirred the vital aura in the earth, beneath his feet. Suzie was no use against the light technique, essence was no use against their consuming runes. Maybe fae magic could do the trick. But he needed some time to prepare. He attacked again, coating his fists in living steel. The metal shattered with every punch he landed on the Messenger but could do nothing more.

If only I can get it under his skin, he thought, clenching his fist in frustration. Nyx and Csala were battling the Judges and from the sounds of the battle, they were holding up well. He felt like he was wasting his time on a mere Messenger. Any ideas, Achilleia?

“You gotta figure this one out on your own, Xerae… think of it as training on the job.”

He could almost see the smug look on her face. I think you’re enjoying my frustration a little too much, Achilleia.

She tittered loudly in his head.

They traded punches and kicks over and over. Jerome was faster and stronger. But the barrier of light protecting the Messenger was a source of frustration as he couldn’t truly harm the giant. He consoled himself with the fact that soon, the Messenger would tire himself out. Which happened the moment he thought it.

The Messenger went down on one knee, breathing hard. Jerome prowled around him like a predator. The damn giant still had the barrier of light up but he could see it fading out.

“How are you not tired, you bastard?”

Jerome didn’t answer. He felt he’d lose his concentration if he did. That barrier of light could quickly become a long-ranged attack and he didn’t want to be caught off guard when that happened. He kept walking a circle around the Messenger, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The Messenger reached into his cloak and Jerome tensed. He brought out a stoppered vial which he opened and drank from.

Tell me that’s not what I think it is, Achilleia.

“Oh , it is, Xerae. You better get ready for round two.”

The Messenger stood up after drinking from the vial and took a very deep breath. Jerome felt his aura swell, threatening to overwhelm him. He forced himself not to take a step back as gravity seemed to increase a hundredfold around him. The barrier of light surrounding the Messenger also increased in intensity.

“Where were we, heathen?” the Messenger said, walking confidently toward him — confidence he didn’t have a moment ago. “Yes, I was about to kick your ass!”

~~~

Sheela

“We should join them.” She paced the tree branch that held her weight.

“That’s quite the balance you have, Sheela,” Tara said. “Sometimes I forget you have a panther in you. Jerome can take care of himself, and if he’s being overwhelmed, we’ll help. The Judge seems to be weak… weaker than the other two in fact.”

Sheela took in all three fights going on at the same time. Truly, Jerome’s Judge seemed weaker than the other two.

“That’s because he’s not a Judge. He’s a Messenger,” Achilleia’s voice reached them from their rings.

“Oh.” Tara started. “But why is he dressed like that?”

“Possibly to misdirect Vorthe.”

“The accords,” Sheela realized. “There are laws in place that prevent Judges from fighting Sprouts because they’re too strong.”

“Except all out war breaks out,” Achilleia completed.

“The accords… huh?” Tara got up from the branch she was sitting on. “The Ju—Messenger just drank something and it seems he’s now more powerful.”

“Okay, it’s time to join the fight!” Sheela jumped off the tree. Tara joined her on the ground half a breath later and they were racing toward Jerome. “I’m going to shadow.”

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She cycled, calling upon the Midnight Panther in the depths of her being. She felt the beast stir within her and extended her claws. The world faded to shades of gray as she slipped into that in-between place. With a thought, the diamonds in her ring glowed, and the jade next. She saw Tara do the same next to her but also materialize a strange weapon in her hand.

“What’s that?”

“An automatic rifle,” Tara said, doing strange things to it.

“An auto what?”

“Jerome!” Tara screamed. Sheela looked forward, catching the barrage of blows the Messenger rained down on him.

“He’s stronger! Faster too! What the fuck was in that potion?!”

Just before they reached them, Achilleia warned, “Behind you!”

Sheela turned just in time to avoid a massive rock brimming with essence — a different kind of essence than she was used to. It reminded her of the crystals surrounding the contraptions Jerome had been disarming.

She dodged one way and Tara went the other. The rock shattered on contact with the ground, scattering debris everywhere.

“Don’t let the debris hit you,” Achilleia warned. “They’re charged with an ascended element.”

Sheela sent her intent to her ring and activated the opals, calling up the earth. A domed shield of earth formed over her the next moment, shielding her from the raining debris. More massive rocks slammed into the ground next to her. Achilleia directed them as they dodged more of the massive rocks.

“What happens if we touch them?” Tara asked.

“It siphons the essence in your core,” Achilleia said. “With that said, we need to find a way to help Jerome.”

Sheela looked back. They were covering a lot of ground, trying to inflict as much pain on the other as they could. The force of their blows shook the earth and vibrated the air, nearly overwhelming her senses. But the Messenger was a lot faster than him now. Jerome was losing.

“That barrier of light surrounding him is a problem,” Sheela said. “How do we destroy—” The Messenger smacked Jerome into an incoming rock, obliterating it completely. She flinched. That must have hurt… a lot.

“We can do nothing. Jerome has to figure it out himself,” Achilleia said.

Sheela chanced a glance at her friend as she jumped away from her position just before a rock smashed the earth there. The Messenger had Jerome by the throat now. Jerome was dangling from the Messenger’s hand. The Messenger raised his other hand and clenched it into a fist. The fist glowed with more of that golden light.

Sheela tried to move forward but couldn’t. There were just too many rocks falling around her and cutting her away from the battle. The Messenger cocked his fist back to punch Jerome with his glowing fist but did something entirely unexpected. He pointed it at Tara.

“No!!!” Jerome screamed just as a blinding light shot out of the Messenger’s fist and hit Tara.

“No!” Sheela screamed, racing after her friend as she hurtled away into the dark.

~~~

Jerome saw red. Rage built up in him as he felt the beast inside him rise like a mountain out of the sea. He didn’t fight it.

“Xerae, fight it,”Achilleia’s voice reached him. He pushed it away, intent on killing the Messenger no matter what.

A red haze overcame him the next moment and he heard the Messenger scream with the crunching of bones. He felt the mind-calming stone stir in his mind and the haze receded a little. His rage remained, the beast snarling at him just below the surface. But only a pile of guts and bones remained of the Messenger he was fighting.

Jerome turned to the Judges next. They were all going to die! But first he had to find Tara.

“Achilleia, is she alright?”

“Oh, Xerae! I thought I had lost you!”

I’m so sorry, Achilleia.

“It’s okay, Xerae. Tara is fine. She had the jades in her ring active before she got hit.”

Then I deal with these — a blinding beam of golden light hit him the next moment like a punch to the gut. He smashed into a tree, obliterating it completely. Jerome activated his jade as another beam shot toward him. He vanished, appearing a dozen paces behind the Judge attacking him. Csala was held by the neck in his hand and struggling to breathe.

Jerome saw red! He rushed the Judge, instinctively summoning Charybdis. The spear sang in his grip, telling him he should have summoned it at the start of the battle. The Judge turned to face him, raising a glowing fist to shoot at him. Charybdis’ song changed tune and the world slowed the next moment. A beam of light slowly left the Judge’s fist, aimed at his chest.

What the fuck?!

“I was wondering when you’d figure it out, Xerae. But it turns out you didn’t. You can only fight ascended elements with ascended elements. And Charybdis has been eating void beads for how long?”

I’m so stupid.

“Yes you are, Xerae.”

Ouch. If Charybdis can do this, then, surely my mythril armor can do something similar, right? They’re made from the same metal after all.

“You’re starting to use your head more and more, Xerae. I gave you nanites to help you think faster. They can also help you come to conclusions faster — whatever things you decide, but they won’t help you make those decisions. That’s up to you. But you see their advantage, right?”

Sure.

“So use them, Xerae.”

Yes. Thanks. Right. Where was I?

Jerome closed his eyes, listening to the song of his spear as he rushed toward the Judge in slow motion. His mind was way faster than his body and it was very uncomfortable but he pushed on. He spun the spear around like a shield just before the beam of light crashed into him. The light vanished, consumed. Jerome covered the rest of the distance and brought down the spear, to sever the Judge’s arm holding up Csala.

He felt it when the Judge activated his telekinesis to push him away. Charybdis sang again and space warped around him. The blade bit into the Judge’s arm, slicing it off instantly.

The time dilation ceased.

The Judge roared in pain as blood burst out of his stump. “I will damn you to the pits of the underworld, heathen sc—” Jerome took off his head.

Csala inhaled deeply and began coughing. Jerome rushed toward her to find out how she was doing.

“Hey, you okay?” He held her face close as she continued to cough.

“I’m fine, help Nyx.”

He rushed toward Nyx’s position but as it turned out, she didn’t need his help. She hovered twenty feet in the air with a bloody head in her hand, looking up at the incoming storm.

“This is no mere storm, Jerome,” she muttered.

Jerome joined her, looking up as well. He hadn’t noticed the storm with all that was happening. Dark clouds rolled in and lightning snaked from one to another. “It seems like a normal storm to me.”

Nyx shook her head. “It isn’t. It tells of a broken agreement. An entity has broken a long-held oath.”

Those words made him shiver to his core. A bad feeling settled in his gut, refusing to go away. “I hope it’s not someone I know. This world… Words have power here. And the world exacts a price when oaths are broken.” Silence reigned as the dreaded words left his lips. He exhaled, shaking the spooky feeling away. “I need to find Ms. Tara.”

“You need to stop cuddling her.” Nyx folded her arms under her massive bust, glaring at him. The action drew his eyes to her jiggling lumps but he looked away. Even covered in blood and gore — which he was sure was totally not hers — she was still so damn sexy. “Let her experience life without a crutch for once.”

Jerome rubbed the back of his neck, feeling stupid. There was a lot of blood on him as well and it made his exposed skin itch.

“As much as I hate to side with her, she’s right, Xerae,” Achilleia said.

He sighed. “Very well. I’ll wait here for her. But what’s this about—” he turned around, sensing an army of Messengers heading for them from the east. This was far more than he had ever faced before. Tens of thousands of them, maybe.

Nyx dragged him to the ground toward Csala. “We’re not alone in this. The Itakars are coming too, the Feis, and many others.”

Scores of sacred artists soon began breaking through the trees into the clearing, running from the Messengers. He didn’t remember there being a clearing here. The fights must have created it. Burning trees and logs created warmth and light for the sacred artists as they rushed into the clearing.

“Jerome!” Ms. Tara called to him from behind. She jumped on him, hugging him tightly.

“I thought I lost you there for a moment,” he said, hugging her back.

“Jerome, we are in big trouble,” Selene said, walking toward him, her teammates behind her. “There are so many of them, and they have so many of those contraptions they’re using to keep us grounded.”

“I know, Selene.” He sighed. “So much for trying to misdirect them using their own tools. We’ll get out of this.”

“You don’t understand, there are too many of them!”

Lang dropped from the sky, landing in a superhero pose. Jerome rolled his eyes at the theatrics as he stood. “She’s right, Jerome. I cannot remember how many of them I’ve killed and I’ve killed many, but this… this is something else.”

“What does the Church wish to gain from all this, Lang?” Jerome asked. If anyone would have any insight, it would be him, or his princess who was glowering at him right now for not acknowledging her presence. Said presence was swallowed up by the ripped-looking form of her protector. He didn’t care.

“This,” — the newly minted Spirit Realm artist held up a large gold coin — “is a charged gold coin. A local currency of the Church and their highest denomination. And this,” — he held up a high grade crystal coin — “is Vorthe’s local currency and our highest denomination. Last time I checked, one high grade crystal coin equaled twenty charged gold.”

“So it’s about profit then,” Jerome said. It made sense but he was sure there was more to it. He looked around. Every heir of every clan who went to Terra Praeta and even the Great Clan’s heirs were here, except for Alvric’s. “They want to hold you captives; force Vorthe into a corner. The nobles would build resentment against the Royal Family until they begin to rebel. Alvric would dangle you — the price — in front of their faces until civil war breaks out.”

Selene nodded. “It’s a nice strategy… but it wouldn’t work. You think the Sovereign hasn’t seen that from a mile away?”

Jerome shrugged. The giant forms of the Baelors broke through the trees last. Their leader glared at him as he walked towards them.

“We need to prepare,” Lang said. “The Messengers would be here any moment now.”

“Way ahead of you, Lang.” He walked toward the edge of the growing group, facing the incoming Messengers. Berj Baelors stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Jerome raised an eyebrow at him.

“When all this is over, you and I are going to have a talk.” He walked off. The man was still as intense as he’d been in Terra Praeta.

Jerome could hear the earth shake from the hoofbeats of the Messengers’ massive draft horses but they were still far away. The oppressive effects of their gravity-generating contraptions weren’t though. Jerome closed his eyes and extended his perception using the pod of Hezvar.

“What’s he doing?” he heard someone ask but tuned them out.

He called forth all the threads of living steel he had left in many different places behind and sent them forward to slow down the Messengers. The Messengers were innumerable. Where the fuck did they come from? Wait a minute.

Achilleia, check for distortions in space. I think the Church opened a portal to send this new batch of Messengers here.

“And you are right, Xerae. Took you long enough.”

How do we close it?

“This isn’t Terra Praeta so I can’t, but Charybdis can. Just get it as close to the portal as possible.”

That seems impossible right now.

“Figure it out, Xerae.”

His perception kept stretching until there were no more Messengers to sense. But he sensed others. Familiar presences, two of them. Jerome smiled.

He looked back and asked, “Does anyone have a piece of paper, or parchment?”