The light vanishes; Ethan finds himself back in the gardens of Uruk's palace. Spotlights shine at the night sky at the edges of the death Ether wall. Ethan looks down at his phone, which synchronizes with the network and updates the time. 'Four days,' Ethan thinks. It's more time than he experienced, but not a problem.
Russ eyes look at him from the shadows, and he leaps out. Prowling, he points towards the surrounding fog, where a dim white light pierces. Ethan triggers Predator's sight to see a figure lying there and sense another man. The second stands atop the Ziggurat, hands behind his back.
The observer stares in their direction, a long coat flowing in the wind behind him. Ethan cannot discern his features through the fog, but he senses him through the Ether. His aura creates waves that swallow the tallest of Uruk's buildings. Their length spans dozens of meters. They are painless, just as Ethan cannot sense he's standing on a sphere hurling through space.
'Heel,' Ethan orders. With Russ at his side, he approaches the gleaming spot and finds a man lying on his back, sheltered by a spheric shield. He wears clothes made of blue, scaled leather. Ethan's glance moves to the man's legs, blackened and disintegrating below the knees.
"It's in the fog," the man struggles to say. He's sweating despite the coldness of the night. "Green light, that's when you know the flames will come."
'The bull,' Ethan thinks. He looks back up at the Ziggurat, where the man is still standing. 'Did Aranthor not deal with that thing? Maybe he just arrived, but why is he staring at me?
A clatter of hooves echoes from the gardens' corner. The immense bull of gleaming metal manifests from the all-encompassing fog. Liquid, dark green flames drool to the ground, necrosing the dead grass that remained. It whistles steam out of its nostrils, boiling the air before its titanic head.
Ethan glances back at who he assumes to be Aranthor, wondering if he will join the fight. But the man is still staring at Ethan.
Rolling cramps off his shoulders, Ethan strides forward. He reassures himself, "After the Leviathan, you don't seem all that intimidating."
"You who defied death," a voice booms from the bull. It doesn't move its maw; the words resonate from within its body. "You who defied the natural order will know divine punishment."
"I'd remind you that Ishtar sent you because Gilgamesh refused her advances. It wasn't because he searched for and reached immortality. Your place isn't in the labyrinth of death," Ethan quips. In the back of his mind, he hopes that his long lessons on antic history skip him this encounter.
The bull scratches the ground, fire smoldering out of its nostrils. It exhales, sending a pestilent wind towards Ethan and the shielded man. The stench wets Ethan's lungs with molasses that stick to them. Russ hums the air, licking his lips. 'You'd eat anything,' Ethan mentally mocks.
Ethan takes a breath despite the stench, focusing his thoughts. His hand ignites with flames, casting a dim light that dances on the gardens. The bull paws at the ground, building momentum – a tremor that vibrates the earth.
Ethan's gaze darts back to the man atop the Ziggurat – his unflinching stare is unnerving. Ethan activates Prescience, and the bull splits with its potential future. 'I should limit myself to some abilities to keep an edge on him. Just in case.'
Ethan steps to the side as the bull charges, its hooves cracking the stone as it barrels past. Decaying patches extend in its wake, contaminated by its fiery drool. Ethan raises his hand, spreading fire to the bull's flank. The flames glide off the metal hide, sending sparks flying to the ground. The creature grunts, shaking off the blast with ease.
Russ grows taller than Ethan and howls towards the night sky. A black mist rises from his fur and bursts forward, enveloping the turning bull. It seeps into its body and darkens its silvery glow. Fog extends from Russ, covering the gardens in a thick layer of darker-than-black smoke. Russ vanishes into it.
'So much for keeping our abilities secret,' Ethan laments.
Ethan draws in enough Ether to fill Strengthening to its soft limit and bursts forward. Summoning Skysong, he impales the spear in the bull's chest. He digs in deep and summons a torrent of flames along the spear's shaft and blade.
The bull rears at the blow, and Ethan presses forward, keeping the monster with its front paws in the air. Russ emerges from the darkness like a shark and bites down on the creature's tail. He dives back into his domain and drags the lower half of the monster with him.
It bellows, the distorted sound shaking Ethan's bones. Green flames leak from the joints of its body, covering it in blazing fire. Russ' shadow spits out the monster and recoils around its light. The flames burn brighter at the base of its neck, from where they pulse. Molten fire drooling along it, Skysong's edge rusts at the flames' touch.
Ethan sees the bull's ghost exhaling fire and he bursts back. A torrent of flames engulfs the garden; Ethan leaps into the air, avoiding the necrosing waves. Russ' eyes open behind the monster, staring at its blazing back.
Ethan lands behind the monster, who heaves itself to turn back around. Grabbing Skysong with both hands, Ethan steadies himself and stabs it at the flames' core. The monster weight impales the spear into its neck, and its necrosing breath cuts off. It bellows in agony and hurls itself backward.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
The flames covering its body die down, and ichor, yellow and translucent like oil, pours out from the wound. It tumbles to the side, shaking its head as more ichor exits by its nostrils.
"You're definitely lacking in comparison to the Leviathan. Are you supposed to be more threatening because you're intended to be fought alone?"
Russ' shadows grow back under the bull, reclaiming the ground its flames took away. He springs out, slashing through the metal in camouflaged assaults.
"I have seen enough," the man booms. He jumps down from the monument in a nonchalant leap and lands on top of the bull. Purple sigils carve themselves in a circular array on the ground surrounding them. The array glows brighter, searing into the ground.
A deep hum vibrates through the air. The metallic bull struggles, its body creaking and groaning under an unseen force. Sparks fly as metal plates buckle inward, its limbs collapsing under its own weight. The ground cracks and sinks, creating a shallow crater as the monster collapses.
It stops, and the man walks down the bull's corpse, revealing the face of Christopher Hayes. His tall, muscular frame moves effortlessly, exuding confidence. Russ' shadows recoil from him, creating a three-meter disk around his feet. His long coat settles around him, accentuating his broad shoulders and commanding posture.
His golden-blond hair, combed back, glint like a crown. Emotionless, his pale blue eyes pierce through Ethan, appraising him. Every step he takes is deliberate. He walks like nobility, emphasizing poise and control with his head held high.
Hayes' face is chiseled, marred only by faint lines at the corners of his eyes and faded scars. He stops a few paces from Ethan. The purple sigils, still glowing faintly at his feet, fade away as he surveys the scene. Without a word, he turns his attention to Ethan, and for a moment, the gardens fade into insignificance.
Something stirs in Ethan's mind – a presence that recoils to hide from this man. Rest's voice pierces through, "I'm sorry."
"Impressive, mongrel," Chistopher Hayes remarks, his voice deep and commanding. He glances to the side, staring at where Russ hides. "This is what I could say had you begun your journey at the same time as the rest of your world."
'What?' Ethan thinks. He was prepared for an awkward conversation's start, but not at an accusation so direct. He unsummons what's left of Skysong to appear less threatening and clears his throat. "I –"
Hayes cuts him. "When my descendants were slaughtered, a witness survived – a guest they sheltered. Before the attack that spelled their end, a man visited. Tall, muscular, with crimson hair and an English accent," Hayes begins. "Looking at where we are now and seeing your allegiance, I can only conclude you colluded with the traitor. Where is he? Where is Caelum?"
"You are mistak –"
"Do not dare lie, mongrel!" Hayes roars. "I will have the truth!"
Hayes steps forth and vanishes in Ethan's Prescience. Ethan spins around, stopping a kick aimed at his back. The impact hurls Ethan into a wall, shattering it into crumbling blocks of stone.
"Your knowledge of my abilities is one more proof of your treachery," Aranthor growls. He extends his right hand, and a long, silvery blade appears in it. A hollowed fuller runs down its center, sheltering electric tendrils.
Aranthor shifts his stance; the arcs of lightning coil outward, illuminating his face. The air around the sword crackles, a scent of ozone filling the space.
As Aranthor steps forward, the ground beneath him trembles. He slashes into the air, hurling a lightning wave at Ethan. Foretelling the attack, Ethan moves out from the wall and sidesteps the blow.
"My father was the one who discovered your people," Ethan says. He summons Phantom Reaver, circling Aranthor. 'Hide,' he commands Russ.
"Lies will not save you," Aranthor answers. He vanishes again, and Ethan bursts forward, avoiding a sword slash that weaves like a snake. He could only have parried this blow from the front.
"Caelum murdered him for one of your possessions!" Ethan bellows. He prepares a debilitating hex, staring at Aranthor. "He took an artifact from him, the missing piece of a –" Ethan gags at the words, a force strangling his throat.
"Then he helped him all the same," Aranthor says. Anger grows in his gaze. What? Is this man insane? He believed Ethan, and yet he decides to continue on? Aranthor poses himself for a strike.
"I want him dead," Ethan says. If his visions are correct, Caelum caused Aranthor's kingdom's downfall. Shouldn't he see that they are on the same side? "I sought you out because I knew you were his enemy. We don't have to fight. I still safekeep all your other possessions, and I will give them back to you; they are yours."
"Child, I believe you," Aranthor bellows. His voice, like rolling thunder, leaves no place for doubt; this is the truth. "Now that I know what was, there is only the matter of your allegiance. The bond is weak, but it will not be left uncleansed."
'What?' Ethan ponders again. He falls into his one-handed stance, convinced that Aranthor wants him dead. Hiding it behind his forearm, Ethan summons Dark fate and waits for his enemy.
Aranthor takes a step forward and bursts towards Ethan. His blade flows in the air, taking a snaking path. It would be unpredictable for someone not dotted with foresight. Ethan deflects the blade upward to Aranthor's surprise. He unleashes the dark tendrils of his hex; they take hold of Aranthor's body, digging into his chest.
'Martial skill echo,' Ethan thinks, giving his ghost Phantom Reaver. He appears behind Ethan and swings at Aranthor's head. The king parries the blade, but this move stops him from countering Ethan's dagger strike.
Dark Fate bounces of metal, shaking in Ethan's hand. He bursts backward, unsummoning his ghost and retrieving Phantom Reaver into his hand.
Aranthor's golden armor shimmers, catching and refracting every hint of illumination. The plates fit together seamlessly. It is a marvel of craftsmanship that leaves no gap or weakness. Each articulation is fluid and precise, giving him full range of motion. It moves as if it were part of him, every step imbued with the same predatory grace. A crimson cape floats behind him, made of the same color as the rubies embedded in his pauldrons - wyverns' heads.
The helmet, a masterpiece that boasts several layers of protection, retracts. Golden plates slide along invisible, silent rails, folding away to reveal Aranthor's features. Aldorian sigils glow along the armor's surface. Their light pulses to the rhythm of a heartbeat.
Aranthor closes the distance and swings upward. His blow propels Ethan into the air, the king's blade making Ethan's tremble. The impact shakes Ethan's organs, rumbling his stomach, heart, and lungs. A lightning wave comes after him, splitting against Phantom Reaver's edge. Ethan summons a Dermal shield, deflecting the electricity.
Hayes stabs his blade into the ground. He extends his arms and sigils carve themselves in the grass. They form into an overlapping array of spells, the word 'fire' the most prominent of all. The rubies of his armor glow, shining their red light through the night and fog. Heat rises, and a column of fire bursts forth, climbing to swallow Ethan.