As men fought and died around him, Jonathan found himself caught up in the lust for blood that had begun to define him. He was hardly a berserker, but he was certainly a warrior now. He desired nothing more than strength borne upon the edge of a blade.
Corpses began to pile on the ground around him, creating bloody battlements upon the battlefield. He stepped over them, leaving them as a macabre sort of art in his wake. He was a butcher, a butcher of men and of beasts. This was his calling and his legacy.
He spotted Hushar fighting a few hundred feet away, his sword reaping through mimics like they were nothing but a field of wheat. His Domain extended outwards like a second sword, extending the blade to immense lengths. Heads rolled every time he swung. The other Uthraki were somewhat less impressive, but there were far more of them.
As the minutes passed by like hours, the two armies ground one another down. However, there was a clear victor in that war of attrition. Jonathan accounted for thousands of enemy deaths, and Hushar for hundreds. None of the Mimics could boast the same, mainly because Jonathan sought out the Exults and killed them before they could become a problem.
Essence poured into him like water, but it was nothing compared to how much he needed to level up at this point. Still, he was making steady progress towards the next level.
The mimics fought on without fear of death, but eventually, their numbers decreased to the point where the battle was completely lost. Jonathan sent a final Void Missile that took out the last remaining mimics. With one final boom, the battle fell silent. Before Jonathan could do anything else though, the mimic corpses started to twitch. He sighed, anticipating some sort of second wind of the mimics, spurred on by their elemental energy. Instead, the flesh began to coalesce, rolling along the ground. With a sudden sinking feeling, Jonathan realized that something had gone wrong.
A slight figure appeared out of the volcanic mists in the far distance, its hands weaving patterns through the air. It was the source of the strange effect taking over the bodies of the mimics. Jonathan quickly scanned it, and his heart fell.
Shard of Slothari(Boss)
Level 299
Health: 250000/250000
Status: Vengeful, Healthy
This was something beyond the norm for the mimics. Its health was not that high, but judging by its build, it had other specializations.
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A flickering aura of elemental potency surrounded it, creating a heat haze effect. It was impossible to discern its features, save that it was humanoid, and possessed a disturbing amount of arms. There were twelve in total, all of which came from strange places. There were two coming from its head, four where the normal arms were, and six scattered across its lower body. Each of them conducted elemental energy with the finesse of a master.
Jonathan gathered energy around himself, forcing it down into a missile. He did not have high hopes for its effectiveness though. The monster approaching was around the same level of power as Arkanon.
The twitching flesh on the battlefield had begun to coalesce into a distinct shape, that of a giant, easily fifty meters tall. Talons formed on its wriggling fingers and toes, lengthening into blades of bone and sinew easily a meter in length. The creature was bombarded by an array of projectiles, but it did little to stop its rise.
“You should not have come here,” the Shard of Slothari declared in a voice completely inhuman. “My kind and yours have kept this realm in balance for the last millenia. Now you seek to change that? Shame on you, Arkanon.”
“I am not Arkanon,” Jonathan declared loudly, seeming to surprise the monster with his speech. “I am Jonathan Harlowe, the Hellbreaker. I killed Granath, and I will kill your patron too.”
“Oh? This is a surprise. So that coward is still mourning the life of his pathetic wife. To think that he would stoop so low as to summon Outsiders to his aid.”
As Jonathan listened, he had the distinct impression that the Outsider comment was not entirely directed at his race. Somehow, this monster knew about his heritage.
Rather than answer, Jonathan started running across the battlefield, each stride seeming to flicker across the blood strewn ground. Behind him, a tide of Uthraki followed, as implacable as the motions of the stars. Or at least, they would have been, had their opponent not been so powerful.
The Shard of Slothari let out a low chuckle and sped up the motions of its arms, the air around it flickering as an obscene amount of elemental energy was channeled through it. “Have a taste of Mutation, worm!”
A lance of vibrant green energy erupted from the monster’s hands, streaking across the ground with the fury of a cruise missile. All around it, the air began to transmute, turning into flesh and bone. Strips of viscera fell to the ground as it passed, its elemental power so great that the world itself ordered itself in its image.
An invisible bow wave of force traveled before it, carrying just as much elemental energy. As it traveled, it grew and grew, until a crescent moon of corruption raced across the realm, too wide to dodge. Jonathan skidded to a halt, and marshaled the raging forces within himself. His fist lit up purple, and then with the fires of the nadir themselves, colorless, and utterly deadly. Massive amounts of stamina and mana empowered the strike, Ephemeral Trifecta providing the impetus. His body started to glow a bright golden as he channeled Smite, knowing that he would need that last little bit of power.