Four rulers, one ancient, one jade and two arcane generals sat in a circle, patiently waiting, pooling their powers together to stave off the worst of Molrik’s powers. Mardar, scourge rune and disciple of Lucirion himself sat rigid, eyes shut tight as he channelled raw blistering aether through his runes, power boiling from his core, ruler ranked aether gushing out from his body, eyes glowing. Altair shifted, raised one finger, a loud echo of bells sounded in reality, a touch of Molrik attempting to sneak its way through their defences completely and precisely cut off.
The arcane generals spoke words of power, the burning fire of the brigade burning the touch to oblivion. The other four rulers pooled their aspects and authorities together, there was little they could do than to bolster those who could actually do damage, a role they took seriously realizing that their very survival depended on it. Contrary to the ways of battling regular creatures, lords of the abyss were as much spiritual as they as physical, a fact jades, ancients and primordials knew well enough.
Altair however, did not realize the scope of power these beings wielded, not until now, not when eight powerful beings struggled to hold back the raw, mere attention of just one lord of the abyss. The whole plan of an ancient, a jade, and two arcane generals taking on a lord of the abyss now seemed ludicrous to him without at least a harbinger or a primordial.
It was madness to put plainly,
“So much lives lost” Mardar whispered,
“They die for the archailect to live, a worthy sacrifice” the female arcane general said,
Altair glanced at her with a withering look,
“Do the lives of those you’re supposed to protect mean nothing to you?” he asked,
“We protect the entire archailect, as numerous as those who have decided to lay their lives down for the safety of the archailect are, we protect the entirety of the archailect, you as an ancient, should realize the near infinite amount of souls that means” the male general said,
“You brigade members, thinking you’re better than all of us” one of the ruler said, cracking an eye open,
Her fiery hair glowing dimly, a sign of her willpower and authority channelled somewhere else,
“Hush, this is a side effect of the powers of the mutator, resist it” Mardar hissed,
Altair drew his attention back to the shield they had erected, dimly, the sounds of the ships battling against the fortress itself echoed outside. Altair receiving a notification on his HUD,
“My forces have encountered serious resistance but have overcome them, they are progressing deeper into the fortress” he said softly,
“and that titan blade?, the supposed prodigy?” the female general asked,
“He has gone farther then we anticipated, communication is hard, but Killian reported that he has found a way to create safe spaces within the fortress” Altair replied,
“then we can only hope he has f-“was all Mardar said before they all felt it,
An opening, leading straight to Mortas, a beacon of blistering aspect that punched a direct route to the crane lance,
A route that was closing by the second,
The powers that served as the council for the armada had no second thoughts, this was the chance they had been waiting for. With no thoughts for how a master had been able to punch through such powerful shielding put up by the lord mutator himself, they went through as one. Arriving in a hail of power that tore apart anything that stood in their way, Devigians, Muttites, denizens of the abyss, all were scorched to ash before their powers.
Mortas floated next to a column, arcs of abyssal energies permeating his body as he cocked his head to the side, a frown on his face,
“So that was his plan” he said,
The arcane generals wasted no time, power bursting forth from their weapons, the mage wielding her staff as she spoke,
“Domain of blessed inferno”
The fires of the sun-burning path blossomed to life, scathing hot as they tore apart the powers of the abyss nearby, giving her allies a boost to all their attributes, not that they needed it though. Altair took it, shooting forwards with the male arcane general as they crossed the distance in a blink of an eye, Durandal, his strongest blade burning internally with his aspect and authority sought to end the crane lance,
Perhaps he should had noticed that the reaction of the crane lance had been a tad bit too calm, but for an ancient, the acts of a mere master were nothing. The bubbling powers of Molrik came alive as the domain of fire was extinguished, Mardar shouted out a warning before his body burned to life with arcane runes of purification and blistering words of power. Shining as a beacon, he tore through the power of Molrik, holding it just at bay as Altair grabbed the arcane general,
“Cleave!” he commanded,
The edict of the thousand blades came just in time to save him from the power of the being that appeared out of a pathway next to Mortas. Pushing themselves back into the protective light of the jade, they watched in grim horror at the figure that came out,
No, two figures,
Decked in dark green crystalline armour, these two humanoid beings with four limbs respectively and an elongated spine that made them walk with a bent shape stood next to the crane lance,
“It was a trap!” the male arcane general spat,
“Your master led us into this” the female added with just as much venom in her voice as possible,
“If you believe that, then you’re greater fools than I realized” Altair replied grimly
“focus!, they come, I can barely hold on!” Mardar hissed, his eyes literally burning with arcane power,
The two beings laughed their faced covered with the crystal armour as well, the one to the left, holding two long glaives in both hands pointed one at them,
“I feel insulted, is this what we are to face?, mere rulers and one ancient?” it said, its voice hoarse,
Hoarse, but carrying the full power of Molrik, for they were his chosen,
His elites,
“Calm Hoshan, the lord dictates we end them, then end them we will” the other one replied, runed dancing in circles around him,
“The blasphemy, you will burn in the fires of Lotes!” the male arcane general snarled,
“Your great Lotes has no power here, you will die, far from the gaze and warm touch of your supreme beings” Hoshan spat,
“Go, deal with them, my battle is with the mind of Molrik himself!” Mardar shouted,
Altair moved, the powers of an ancient who knew and understood the flow of aether, at least to an extent. The thousand blades had fought tooth and nail to reach this point, he had proven himself in the eyes of the supreme beings and the archailect, and he would once again put on the role of a ruthless ascender. He drew Durandal, his ancient aspect blistering and glowing through the blade, time slowing to a crawl as wisps of power poured out from his body,
“a thousand forges for a thousand blades, a million cuts with the swing of my edges, rise, Durandal” he uttered,
The very air shimmered,
“Good!” Hoshan said, shooting for him,
Reality sliced the elite of Molrik to pieces in a fraction of a second, cutting him into finely arranged cubes of flesh and diamond. Altair however brought Durandal up to block the attack he had seen coming, Hoshan suddenly whole stood right in front of the thousand blades, glaive and blade crossed,
“a true ancient, perhaps I would enjoy this” he hissed,
A glowing silver blade, imbued with the power to purge the unclean tore right through where Hoshan stood. The blade vanishing the moment it touched nothing, Altair was already moving, his domain of blades, shifting along with him as they deflecting speed defying attacks after attacks from Hoshan, the elite of Molrik trying to get in the guard of Altair.
Altair, gripped another blade he summoned in the fraction of a second, swinging it nonchalantly through the air,
“ring” he said,
A loud bell sound reverberated through the air, time coming to an actual crawl to reveal Hoshan himself, blade driving through a fraction of an opening in the sword defence of Altair,
An opening Altair had created himself,
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The blade had the ability to slow time to a crawl within a specific area, a legendary grade weapon forged by Altair himself. Altair moved, Durandal aiming for the skull of Hoshan directly, knowing the power of the abyss was pitted against the strength of the blade, Durandal had just gotten to cracking the diamond skull of Hoshan when the blade shattered. Releasing Hoshan from the grip of time, the elite snarled, using one armoured arm to punch Durandal to the side, in an attempt to save his skull.
It worked, but it left a glowing gash that leaked abyssal essence.
Hoshan snarled, a most guttural sound that promised revenge, Altair wasn’t fazed or moved though, not really. Arcane runes came to life around Altair, runes bestowed to him by the archailect upon his ascension to an ancient, runes sealed to his rank. Empowering his authority, Altair called on his aspect, of all things blade, of all things sharp and of all things edges,
Runes of the thousand blades (L)
Hoshan dived in despite the power of the runes literally cutting at his existence, a subtle greenish glow around his body signalling some arcane power of his own fuelling his existence, replenishing it just as fast as Altair cut it off. The both of them clashed again, the entire fortress shaking from the powers of both sides, threatening to tear itself apart in an explosion that would rival nothing short of a star going supernova. And yet, it was the same power of the abyss that held the fortress together, willed by the power of Molrik imbued on his servant Mortas.
Altair felt the freezing in the air once again, wincing as the power of Mardar, the jade ruler filled the air, Hoshan and his accomplice with charred limbs shot backwards warily. Altair finally having space to survey the entire battlefield glanced around, staring at the brigade generals that were looking worse for wear. Torn robes, gashes all over their bodies that literally leaked flames, runes all over their bodies burning to life.
However, it wasn’t the arcane generals who to Altair’s amazement, couldn’t handle a single elite. It was Mardar who was wreathed in runes and lightning that crackled and wreathed his whole body. White flames burned deeply in his eyes, and he glowed, glowed like a sun. He had one hand pointed behind him, arcs of lightning and white fire seemingly holding something at bay,
The aspect of Molrik, Altair realized,
And one hand in front of him, one finger pointed at the elites, a grim smile on his face,
“Once and once only in a century, I hearken the pleas of my disciple” Mardar said,
Reality quaked, aether spilled from nothing, drowning everything in aether so pure, so powerful that it burned the elites who barely held on the existence, their bodies cracking. Altair could only stare in shock, could only watch as a power that rivalled with the strongest of the primordials sanctify the area,
That was not Mardar talking, that was the jade lord talking,
Lucirion aether blessed,
Altair went on one knee in reverence, bathed in the aether that washed his channels with just a hint of power, but it proved its strength,
Notice: you have been bestowed boon: gaze of the aether blessed(M)
Gaze of the aether blessed(M): for the next five minutes, all attacks would do 200% more damage, all damages taken are negated during that period.
Altair laughed, his voice echoing through the air as he stood up, stood up and channelled all his aspect, all his authority and all his aether, letting the flames and lightning of Lucirion bathe him. The turned to the two elites who fate had dealt the unlucky card, the both of them screaming the name of their lord,
“End them!” Mardar said, but this time in his own voice,
Altair could hear the strain of him channelling the power of the aether blessed, the being who was no primordial but bore the same rank, power and authority as them. The generals moved, Altair moved and his legendary ranked skill, isle of the cutting edge came to life,
“NO!” Mortas screamed from his position,
It wasn’t Mortas to Altair, the ancient realizing this as he and the four rulers descended on the elites. He didn’t have time to cry in anguish as a ruler was extinguished from existence in green flames. He didn’t have time as an arcane general was stabbed from all angles by green spears of abyssal energy. He could only trust in the power of Lucirion and wonder why it had failed the ruler and the arcane general, in that fraction of a second, he realized why.
Molrik had somehow been able to peek through the barricade of lucirion’s power, the lord of the abyss had somehow negated the power of Lucirion to an extent, and the rulers were susceptible to damage, they were no ancient afterall. Altair though, had walked the way of the blade, he may die here, he could die here, but he would ensure his blade went out with the greatest skill he could channel.
Isle of the blessed connected in the exact moment he felt lucirion’s boon battle with the powers of Molrik, all in that fraction of a second that could define life or death, all forces were fighting for supremacy, spiritual and physical. Powers of old battling for supremacy, not noticing the force that stepped in to tilt the tide,
Altair felt it and smiled,
His blade stabbed straight through the chest of Hoshan, the same moment Moyo appeared next to the other elite, a blade that burnt the actual aspect of Molrik stabbing into the heart of the other elite,
“annihilate” Altair spoke,
“burn” Moyo growled,
Molrik raged, raged as two of his elites, his chosen were wiped from existence. Not because they were weak, not because they had made mistakes, but because of two primordial forces coming together to lay waste to his control. Hoshan could only croak as his entire existence was cut off cleanly, like a sore expertly removed from a body. The other elite burned up in purple and white flames, two primordial aspects, it stood no chance.
Altair however read the movements of Moyo, saw what he was about to do next and with one surge of power, the thousand blades released his edict, imbuing it with the power of his runes and his aspect.
********************************
Moyo stumbled, groaning as he watched the beacon he placed between realities shine, and he felt them arrive. Turning to Idris who watched in shock,
“Go!, rally the forces!” he shouted, jolting Idris who cursed, no doubt berating himself for losing focus,
Without another word, Moyo jumped through the hole in realities, landing at a far distance from where the battle had broken out,
Notice: you have slain:
* Nethertaurs X10
* Devigian
* Abyssal elves X5
* Abyssal Draco-lich
For these, you get:
* 10,000 diamond coins
* 100,000 gold coins
* 1,000,000 silver coins.
Level 605! (100 points)
Pushing away the notification, he stumbled to his feet, taking deep breaths as he allowed his aspect to revitalize him. He watched as Altair; the rulers and the arcane generals battle two beings. Realizing just what they were, elites, he snarled, the thought of Vesh phantom scourge resurfacing. He intended to send a message to her, through her fellow elites, and if having a piece of them is the way then he would rip them piece by piece.
Gegun burned in his hand when he halted, a snarling voice echoing in his head,
“Hide!” it said,
Freezing as he bent low,
“Mardar?’ he whispered,
“can’t maintain this connection for long, wait for my signal, no questions, trust me!” the jade snarled in his mind,
Moyo simply nodded and crept into a corner, the absurdly wide room they had found themselves had enough floating metals and shards of green abyssal pieces of crystals that no doubt, Mortas was using to power whatever that conduit he was latched on to. He watched as Altair fought with one of the elites, the other rulers behind him knowing fully well just how suicidal it would be to actively join the fight. Instead, they resulted to deflecting the random attack here and there, their realms struggling to even manifest.
Moyo couldn’t even contemplate how saturated the entire area had to be with the aspect of Molrik for ruler ranked core realms not to be able to manifest. Despite the effort of Mardar who held the worst of the powers of Molrik at bay, a serious feat seeing an actual conduit of Molrik was in the same room as them. Itching to actually go for Mortas, he stayed his hand, sending Gegun into his vault, calmly watching, waiting for the moment when Mardar would unleash him in whatever strategy he intended to use.
Altair fought the elite to a stalemate, the both of them seeking for the upper hand as runes clashed and blade rang against each other. The generals were having a tough time and Moyo for once felt a twinge of satisfaction, but he could see the flames doing as much damage as the powers of Molrik did on them as well. The plan of Mardar was slowly unravelling before his eyes, it would always be a stalemate, these forces evenly matched, Mardar had taken one look at the field and realized it.
He also knew the abyss would have the upper hand in a long battle of attrition, so whatever plan the scourge rune had, Moyo hoped he had taken it into account. Then the biting cold descended, Moyo hearing one last order from the jade ruler,
“Be ready” he said,
Gegun appeared in his hand, its flames simmering at the edges, waiting for Moyo to unleash its wrath. He shivered Ashe heard the voice that was not Mardar echo around the room, a voice that carried such power, Moyo wondered what primordial it was, for it had to be a primordial, no other being in the archailect could wield that much power. He watched as the tables were turned, his nerves burning with anticipation,
Was that the sign?, was that what Mardar told him to wait for?,
Instincts told him to hold on, a nudge in his guts informing him not to move, not yet. And so he froze, letting the power wash over him, he felt it pause for a fraction of a second as it descended on him, and he could had sworn he had heard a chuckling voice of amusement. He chalked it up to the tension of the moment, and then he received the boon, the gaze of the aether blessed,
“Aether blessed” he murmured,
He saw Altair move, he smiled at what the boon entailed, watching as the thousand blades moved to end the existence of the elite he was fighting. Then he heard Mortas snarl a loud voice, watched as Molrik’s aspect made holes through the shield of Mardar and whatever being possessed him, empowering the elites to withstand the attack just for a second. He blanched in that fraction of a second, watching a ruler get destroyed, completely erased from existence like a spark of fire. This was the moment, the tables were tied again, and a stale breaker was needed,
What was the titan if not a breaker?,
Step of Ogun activated, sage’s eyes burned as his eyes watered, calculating the odds, he knew what to do. Even as the male brigade general was stabbed by the powers of Molrik, Moyo unleashed his aspect, burning the aspect of the mutator that was caught unprepared, giving that element of surprise to both he and Altair. Ancient and pseudo primordial moved as one, the both of them going for different elites, pushing their blades deep into their bodies and calling on their aspects to wipe out their very existence.
His aspect empowered by the boon of the aether blessed burnt the elite to nothing, not even ashes was left, but Moyo didn’t pause. Even as Gegun swung free from the space where the elite had been, he moved again, channelling step of Ogun and appearing right in front of Mortas who could only watch with wide eyes as Moyo stabbed Gegun straight through his body,
“Purify!” he shouted,
Gegun flared to life, the attack of the thousand blades who had synchronized with him tore into the crane lance who brought up all the power he had. Reality shattered, the fortress exploded and Moyo felt two burning columns of fires behind him add their powers to the attack. Nothing mattered in that moment, nothing except the wills that came together to end the existence of the crane lance.
He saw Mortas in that moment, the real crane lance who realized he had been played by both sides, he was merely a pawn to the lord mutator, a disposable pawn and he had served his purpose.
Moyo heard something crack within Mortas, the crane lance smiling at him,
“boom” he said,
“DA PA DA!” Moyo roared, invoking his edict,
His aspect poured out of him in a torrent, holding back the explosion of power, barely, but it had been enough for the other powers to react. Mardar, bleeding from every part of his body snapped his fingers as runic circles flared baptizing the explosion in power, halting the mutation that would had erased their very forms. The generals moved,
“cleanse” they shouted,
The flames of Lotes purified the area, wiping out what remained of the explosion and Altair stabbed a blade into the air,
“cut” he commanded,
The very area where Mortas had been was cleanly cut away, sent somewhere Moyo didn’t know or didn’t care to know. He watched as the fortress reformed around them, crashing to his knees in exhaustion, huffing,
They had done it.