The shield looked to be quite tough, crafted from masterfully woven mana and elemental energy. Granath likely had eons of practice with his mana, and although he was constrained by his rank, he was probably far better in that field than Jonathan was. Luckily, Jonathan had the ultimate cheat code when it came to energy based structures.
He thrust out one hand, limned in the power of the Void, and slammed it into the shield. Energy started to crackle as the rival powers clashed, but the shield remained intact, despite Jonathan’s power. A few moments later, he saw what was happening. Energy was being funneled towards his position from the rest of the shield, reinforcing it against his power. It was a cleverly designed trap to make him waste his elemental energy stores. Instead, he simply sent a Void projectile arcing up over the top of the shield. It impacted in a weakened area, where the energy had been withdrawn from. There was a crack, and the shield began to fracture.
Jonathan waited until the shield was fully down, and then he and the others raced through, leaving the soldiers in their dust. The city stretched ahead, a cyclopean sprawl of dark rock. In the very center, Granath dwelt, the endpoint of Jonathan’s quest within this realm. He smiled unwittingly as he ran. Everything culminated in this.
His allies lent their support, driving away the nearby soldiers. Most of the fighters were quite low level, at least compared to them, but there were a lot of them. Scything blades of wind cut through their ranks, followed by spectral green spear heads. Blades of sharpened rock followed quickly after, along with waves of molten rock. Between the seven of them, they carved a path of bloody red ruin through the city streets. However, the city was truly immense, and the density of fighters only grew and grew as they progressed.
Jonathan reserved his energy as much as he could, needing every last drop of power for Granath. The pure energy coursing through his body hummed in anticipation of finally being used to its fullest potential. If he died here, he would die doing something that actually had meaning. A single death like this was worth a thousand lives like he had lived on Earth.
The buildings whipped by them as they cut through the opposition, but nothing could last forever, and finally, they were met with some serious resistance. A trio of immense warriors, each of whom exuded a potent aura of might, leaped down from a flying ship overhead, and landed in front of them. Craters formed beneath the weight of their armor, and each wielded a massive weapon that seemed far too large for any mortal to wield.
“You have come far enough, scum,” the centermost fighter intoned, his voice deep and raspy. He sounded utterly confident in himself. Perhaps he hadn’t scanned them yet. “I am Chakran, commander of the Dread Legions. Besides my master, I am the strongest man in this world. Your rebellion ends here.”
“I trust that you can take care of him?” Jonathan asked, flashing the Uthraki siblings a look.
They nodded. Smiling, Jonathan raced past the three warriors, followed by Edgar and the three others. Behind them, Maranta and Bordeg engaged the warriors, keeping them busy. Judging by the sounds that they were making, they were shocked at the strength of the Uthraki.
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Over the next few hours, the small party lost more members. Tukar stayed behind to deal with a platoon of elites that would have caused a bit of trouble without the mana inhibition that extended everywhere save for the city. Hushar and Eva found themselves engaged with a coven of Crimson Sect spellcasters, fighting to prevent them from unleashing devastating ritual magics upon them. Eventually, it was just down to Edgar and Jonathan to challenge the demigod-like worm that ruled this world with an iron fist.
Nobody could truly stand against either of them, Jonathan least of all. He was a god of battle, carving through the enemy lines like a cleaver wielded by the deity of butchers. He was only a god by comparison though, quickly shown by the sudden uptick in resistance that they were met by the closer they got to the city center.
An androgynous shape, clad in dark robes, drifted down from the sky before them, a billowing aura of red lightning surrounding them.
“I see that brute Chakran was unable to stop you. How unfortunate.” The voice clearly revealed the figure as a woman, most certainly a higher ranked member of the Crimson Sect, perhaps the highest. “He is nothing compared to me though. I have spent centuries honing my magic to the point that I can cut through mountains. Who are you to challenge me, let alone my master?”
“I am the man who will break the Hells upon my knee,” Jonathan responded. “Who will bring this entire land of torment crashing down. Edgar, deal with her.”
Before the woman could react, Edgar exploded up from the ground, clad in armor made out of pure wind. He raised one hand and sent a tornado spear hurtling towards the woman. She laughed, summoning a shield, but as the attack made contact, she was sent flying backwards.
“What is this power?” She exclaimed. “How did you reach that level?”
“A bit of self respect doesn’t hurt. As it turns out, you don’t need help from a bloated worm to reach the heights of power.”
Jonathan smiled at the banter, and continued on his way. Going off of logic, there was nobody stronger here, save Granath himself. It was time to fight.
As Jonathan raced down the cobbled streets, breaking apart the rock beneath his bare feet, he could feel the aura of Granath swelling in potency the closer he got to the worm’s palace. The massive building loomed overhead, like a wound upon the world. He could feel a sense of subtle wrongness in the air, as if some great sin had been committed here. It almost felt like the legacy of the rending of souls. Of course, because it was Granath, that was exactly what it was.
Jonathan bore with the feeling of discomfort, and kept going, pausing before the strangely unguarded gates of the citadel. He stopped and began to gather his elemental energy. Before he could do so, a sudden pressure dropped down upon him.
“Ah, Jonathan. I was wondering when you might join me.” Granath’s serpentine body started to rise from behind the gate, his twisted humanoid head smiling broadly. A mantle of swirling elemental majesty hummed in the air around him, broadcasting his power to the world. “Your power has grown greatly since we last met. However, it will not be enough. I have reached the very pinnacle of power for my rank. You cannot win here.”
“Are we going to fight, or are you just going to delay?”
As Jonathan spoke, the purple light of the Void swirled around his arms. Divinity seared through his body as he used Smite. A spear of energy formed in his right hand as he stared down Granath. The worm laughed out loud, and without warning, attacked.