Bone-white skeletal hands, conjured through the power of Umbral Hand magic, emerged from the shadows cast upon the floor, seizing hold of Poly and Euness, forcefully pulling them toward Zini. A malevolent smirk crept across the intruder's face as he observed the swift maneuver.
"It's you," his two voices echoed in eerie unison, "the wielder of dark magic who treads the treacherous path of light." With calculated precision, he circled Zini, his hollow eyes, concealed behind a white demon mask, fixed upon the necromancer and his companions. "As was claimed by my Ghost Face brothers you have encountered within our stronghold in Escorna."
"So, you are a Ghost Face cultist?" Zini inquired, his dark green eyes locked onto the visage of the intruder.
"A Ghost Face fighter, to be precise—an elite among the cultists," came the reply.
"The last Ghost Face fighter I encountered met a fiery demise, reduced to naught but ashes upon the city streets," Zini retorted, a sly smirk playing upon his lips.
"I implore you, good sir, to refrain from provoking him," Euness whispered with genuine concern, his voice filled with unease.
Air distortions crackled around the intruder, the Ghost Face fighter, as his muscles expanded, causing the black clothes he donned to tighten and cling to him like a second layer of skin. He was a physical fighter much like the other Ghost Face fighter Zini had met, using mana imbuement to strengthen his body. Coming off his aura, black light danced around the temple’s walls like shadows of a nightmare.
"This is a church, regardless of whether it rolls on wheels or not," Zini remarked, his pale face devoid of color due to expending excessive mana while saving Euness and the captives earlier. He had not yet fully recovered, but he could not allow Poly and Euness to fight, considering their power was not enough. "Our dark powers hold little sway in this sacred space. Maybe we should step outside, just you and me," he offered.
“Mister Zini, don’t go. You’ll die,” Poly pleaded with worry as she observed Zini's deteriorating complexion and labored breathing. The exertion of using his magic to draw them closer had already drained him considerably.
The Ghost Face fighter threw back his head and let out a chilling, derisive laugh. “Do you take me for a fool? We're inside a moving sage symbol carriage. Why would I venture outside, where you could easily deceive me with your magic, catch me by surprise, and leave me stranded?” He tapped the side of his demon mask, his dual voices resolute. “Those who rely on magic always believe they can outsmart us physical combatants.”
Zini's false smile remained firmly in place as he retorted, his voice laced with hidden intentions. “Clearly, you are much more than just a mere brawny physique, cultist.”
A hint of suspicion crept across the Ghost Face fighter's expression. A deep frown grew, hidden beneath the mask, while his muscles coiled like a jungle cat ready to pounce from a tree branch onto its unsuspecting prey.
With a false smile still plastered on Zini's face, he instructed, "Euness, Poly, make your way to the shrines of the gods positioned at the altar." Their expressions filled with confusion, they glanced at him before redirecting their gaze down the rows of benches, fixating on the shrines of deities perched upon the elaborate altar.
“Do you think I'd allow you to have your way?” the Ghost Face fighter spat. With a surge of dark energy, he lunged towards Zini with blinding speed, his movements shrouded in black light.
Zini lost track of him, but he didn’t need to know where he was for his counter maneuver. “Go now!” Zini barked, stepping back to reveal a dark claw formed from his shadow that had been carving runes into the wooden floor. Poly decided against it and chose to fight alongside him, breathing in to let out her Siren’s Call, but Euness swept her into his arms and dashed away.
“Mister Euness! I can fight!” Poly protested, her frustration evident in her voice.
“Trust Mister Zini to handle this,” Euness argued, his eyes squinting as he strained to make out the distant shrines of the gods. “He's no ordinary opponent!”
Violet light swam across the temple walls, clashing against the black light the cultist exuded, Zini’s runes bright and alluring. Like a spectral presence, the Ghost Face fighter materialized behind Zini, his white demon mask seeming almost ravenous.
Zini hadn’t noticed in time before the Ghost Face fighter nearly had his hands around his neck. Bone fingers grew tall from beneath Zini, growing upward like a peacock’s feathers, keeping the cultist’s hands at bay, only to start to crack underneath muscles shrouded in black aura. Zini stepped away quickly in time before his Umbral Hand magic was broken into fragments of bone.
A smug grin tugged at the Ghost Face fighter's lips beneath his mask as he tried to advance upon his quarry but suddenly he found his legs immobile. To his astonishment, his legs had become immobilized, sinking into the wooden floor as if it were quicksand. Zini’s magic had taken into effect. Startled, the cultist’s gaze followed approaching footsteps, locking onto Zini who strode towards him, a relic tightly grasped in his hand.
“I’ve been needing a reliable guard,” Zini declared, his voice cold. “You make for the perfect specimen. Be thankful. You will now be under the control of the great Zini!” Clutched in his grasp was the Soul Expropriator, a powerful relic he had obtained from the Badlanders. This coveted artifact granted him the ability to manipulate the souls of others, bending them to his will and forcing them to obey his every command.
The sound of wood splintering made Zini’s steps halt. His dark green eyes dilated as he stared down at the Ghost Face fighter’s bound feet where there appeared cracks in the wood holding them. Black aura like flames of an inextinguishable fire roared around the cultist’s body as he himself shouted in defiance. With a loud crack, the Ghost Face fighter broke free, sending pieces of wood airborne as he leapt toward Zini, snarling viciously.
A skeletal hand separated them with a dividing chop, but the cultists managed to break the hand apart with two swings of glowing fists. As he emerged on the other side of the broken obstruction, his eyes widened in surprise. Zini had slipped away, being whisked across the floor by a dark claw emerging from his own shadow. The runes etched by Zini once again radiated with a mesmerizing violet light, casting an enchanting glow throughout the temple. As a result, beneath the cultist's feet, the once solid wood inexplicably liquefied, greedily absorbing his form into its depths.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
"What an annoying bug...!" he grunted with exertion, struggling to free his feet from what felt like the suction of whirlpools. Once liberated, he swiftly sprinted towards the runes that Zini had inscribed, swiftly defacing them with a swipe of his fingers, sharpened with black mana, rendering the symbols utterly useless. As he scanned the surroundings for Zini, he spotted him alongside the other two, standing next to the shrines of the gods. Such an unconventional choice, the cultist pondered, observing steam rising from Zini's body. The necromancer was burning up, igniting from being near the presence of holiness emanating from the shrines.
“How foolish,” the Ghost Face fighter remarked, his heavy footsteps echoing through the aisle between the pews. With each step, his menacing black aura exerted a crushing force upon the nearby benches. “To think that you, a necromancer, would stoop so low as to seek refuge in the embrace of these repugnant holy gods.”
Drawing closer, wisps of steam began to rise from his body, causing a chuckle to escape his lips. “This feeble amount of holy magic would require years to inflict any significant harm upon my formidable physique.”
“Are you ready?” Zini asked, his face drenched in sweat, his body feeling as if it were ablaze in the presence of the gods' shrines.
The cultist's demon mask tilted, reflecting his confusion. "What are you talking about, boy?" he responded.
“I wasn't talking to you.”
“I hope you know what you're doing,” Poly murmured, her tiny body crouched behind the altar, preparing herself to use her Siren's Call ability if Zini's plans went awry.
Euness had been mumbling since Zini’s arrival at the altar, his lips moving in silent prayer. He had never been particularly religious, but he often offered prayer to the goddess of the four winds, the goddess who blessed her followers with luck on their travels. When working as a receptionist, Euness prayed for each Hunter that had left on a quest to be able to return safely. Euness had been instructed to give his customary prayers and at the end of it, put his hands on Zini’s back and “permit” blessings he had accrued with the goddess to pass onto the necromancer.
Once he had done so, a remarkable event occurred.
The clouds above the city parted, unveiling a radiant beam of light that descended like a thunderous lightning bolt, striking the carriage with immense force. Debris scattered through the air, creating a chaotic whirlwind. Zini's anguished scream pierced the air as he felt the searing holy light shine directly upon him and the others. His skin began to peel away, consumed by relentless flames of white that raced across his body.
The Ghost Face fighter stood frozen in shock, unable to comprehend the overt response from a goddess, especially to someone who did not hold the esteemed titles of cleric or priestess.
Zini extended his trembling hand, grasping at an ethereal sword of blinding light. As the radiant weapon materialized, its intense brilliance seared his flesh, causing him to wail in agony as it nearly burned his hand down to the bone. With a momentary grip, he swung the sword, unleashing a devastating slash before relinquishing his hold, allowing the weapon to disintegrate into shimmering specks of light. The force of his strike released a surge of white crescent-shaped energy that streaked forth with incredible speed, tearing through the wooden floor in its wake.
The Ghost Face fighter unleashed the full force of the black mana surging within him, manifesting as a fierce torrent of vibrant black flames. Crossing his arms, he braced himself against the incoming onslaught of the white crescent light. The collision sent him hurtling backward, crashing into the wall with a resounding impact that left a deep crater. His once-intense black aura dissipated entirely, vanishing like dirt cleansed from the street by a passing rain. Blood flowed unrestrained from every orifice, cascading down the wall and pooling beneath him. Yet, in the sanctified holy church, the crimson stains began to evaporate.
Zini's strength waned, his body trembling as he fell to his knees, desperately gasping for each precious breath. He crawled with his hands and knees scrabbling against the floor, seeking escape from the holy light streaming through the opening above. Exhaustion took hold as he collapsed onto his back once away from the burning light. With concern etched across his face, his weary eyes scanned the scene, ensuring the safety of Poly and Euness.
Yet, when Zini's gaze lifted, a sight both awe-inspiring and ethereal greeted him. Standing tall above the sacred altar, bathed in the radiance of divine light, stood a figure that seemed to materialize from the realm of dreams. A woman, adorned in flowing robes that billowed gracefully around her, fixed her gaze upon Zini with a profound sadness tinged with compassion. Her smile, though touched by sorrow, held a glimmer of undeniable divinity, resonating with an otherworldly grace.
"G-goddess..." Zini stammered, his voice barely a whisper, his eyes widening in disbelief and reverence. The woman, the goddess of the four winds, regarded him with a tender sadness, her emerald eyes filled with a deep understanding. Silently, she dispersed into shimmering dots of light, her divine presence fading from sight.
A voice then appeared in Zini’s head, my dear Vizini. Travel well, my child. You have become lost and are away from my sight. I wait the day for you to come back into my fold.
Zini longed to smile, but the severity of his burns denied him solace in those words. The goddess of the four winds held a revered place among humanity's ancient deities, and in ages past, he had fervently prayed to her above all others. However, his connection had been severed by his dark magic. Through Euness, he found a means to reach out to her once again.
Zini marveled at the profound connection between the goddess and the shrine within the carriage. Priestess Vilda, the owner of the vehicle, must have shown unwavering devotion and constant prayer to attract such divine attention. Despite his assurance to Euness about the plan's success to receive a goddess’ blessing, Zini secretly harbored doubts, his confidence not as resolute as he portrayed. Thankfully, all went well, besides the scorched skin that left him in complete agony.
“Mister Zini!” Euness and Poly shouted, alarmed at what looked like burnt meat splayed out on the temple floor. They hadn’t noticed the image of the woman that had come and gone.
“Don’t mind me,” Zini dismissed with a croaking and pained voice, “bring me the cultist.” The Ghost Face fighter, still alive due to his daunting strength as a cultist elite and Zini’s contrasting magic that could not bring out the full potential of holy magic, was dragged to Zini by his legs. The Soul Expropriator was soon pressed onto the cultist's chest and with a glow of bright light, the artifact applied its magic to him.
Zini lied back down in a heap and tried not to pass out, afraid if he did, he wouldn’t wake back up.
“See,” Euness assured Poly, “Mister Zini is more capable than most!”
“You truly are great,” Poly praised emotionally, staring down at the burnt necromancer, his clothes singed. The once-perceived image of Zini as the embodiment of evil, as described in the accounts of the fall of the Eternal Empire, had completely shattered in Poly's eyes.
Zini's strength waned, his body trembling as he lay on the ground, unable to find his voice. He wanted to quell their worries over his damaged form when he stilled hearing a wet suction sound, prompting him and the others to look toward their fallen adversary. Black flames erupted around the cultist’s body as air distortions crackled around it.
Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, white hands burst through the chest of the lifeless body, tearing it open to reveal a cascade of long, ghostly white hair. A pale woman, her eyes shrouded in cloth, clawed her way out of the gaping wound as if it were a hole in the ground. With a jolt of unsettling energy, a third eye sprang open on her forehead, its menacing red gaze fixated on Zini and the others.
As the third eye locked onto them, a palpable sense of malicious joy emanated from its ominous glare. It was a chilling moment, conveying the woman's wicked intent and the imminent danger she posed.