“No, I don’t want to,” were the exact words that Kayla, the Hero of Secrets, deigned to offer up when Rowan finally decided to prod her with his foot to see if she was alive and urged her to get up. “Mom, just five more minutes, please?”
The heroine had never looked this bedraggled for as long as Rowan and Blake had known her, so neither could quite help smiling.
While the two heroes knew her well enough to ignore the image she was putting on, she was doing a rather convincing impression of a poor maiden who had given her all in the conquest of their enemy and left to languish on the ground. Both Clarke and Marcus were giving the woman keen attention, having totally fallen for her acting.
Well, Clarke was blushing furiously and trying to look in any direction other than her, while Marcus was sneaking glances as he made his way over. “Maybe I could help you up, my lady?”
Rowan choked on a laugh at the sudden, awkward, suave voice of his friend, but it was when Kayla demurely offered up her hand that he couldn’t keep it in any longer.
Blake joined him a second later, and then all three heroes were laughing as loudly as their lungs could manage, fear and anxiety mixing into a heady cocktail of reckless joy at still being alive. They let out a collective sigh as they came down from their high.
Marcus looked both confused and slightly mortified, but that was quickly solved and morphed into a full-body flush when the heroine in a rumpled and slightly torn dress finally got to her feet and kissed his cheek in passing.
“You got something good, right?” Blake asked as Kayla casually waved her hand, causing a wave of mana to sweep over her and erase all signs of the battle as dirt disappeared, bruises faded, and her clothing mended and readjusted itself.
“Duh? Course I did.” Kayla’s expression was downright smug, but Rowan could hardly blame her.
His own experience bar had jumped right past level seventy-eight and into seventy-nine from the kill Kayla claimed, so he could only imagine how much experience she got. Not to mention the cards.
“One of them I’ll be keeping for myself, but…” Ponderously, like she really didn’t like what she was doing much, the heroine materialized an orange-colored card, then suddenly tossed it at Marcus.
The poor man was so out of it he almost fumbled the catch despite his stats, but then froze when he saw whatever was on the face on the card. “Are you sure…?”
It didn’t take more encouragement than a nod from Kayla for Marcus to quickly go through the process of changing his cards, then shuddered as an outline of a full plate set of armor flashed around his body then faded.
A moment later, he also shared the card description with everyone in his party.
World Layer (Legendary, Passive)
You are inextricably linked to the world of Avalus Atlantis, and it lends you its protection.
“You got the knight’s armor?” Milena whispered in awe, then faked a scrunched up expression of bitterness. “So not fair. A kiss from a pretty heroine and then a gift on top? When’s the wedding?”
Kayla tittered as Marcus blushed again, and the entire group felt just a little more at ease. Just a tiny bit more normal.
It was almost possible to pretend like they weren’t all getting the shivers. An immense aura could be felt from the final stretch of hallway, emanating from just around the corner. It was putting them all on constant edge.
They couldn’t delay forever, and they knew it.
After realizing that there was nothing else to do, they easily fell in together and set out to meet their final challenge.
Rowan badly wished he could walk alongside Olivia, but he wasn’t about to waste his advantages by walking at the rear or force her to expose herself to direct hits by having her upfront. As such, it was him and Marcus that walked ahead, Rowan’s regeneration and the wolf kin’s new defenses being the best bet of surviving the opening salvo.
Except the immediate blow never came, even as they walked past the final murals that showcased a single glowing figure standing tall in the face of a demonic monstrosity. Rowan found the figure oddly familiar, but there was something far more pressing taking up his attention.
The same monstrosity on the mural was right in front of them, seated on a throne of bones and wreathed in a red haze.
Warning!
You have entered an area of Unstable Reality!
Warning!
You are in the presence of the local Demonic Origin entity!
₴Ø₥₳₦₮ł₴, ₮ⱧɆ ₥₳ⱤQɄł₴ Ø₣ Ɇ₥₱₮Ɏ ĐⱤɆ₳₥₴, ₩ɆⱠ₵Ø₥Ɇ₴ ɎØɄ!
B̷̡̡̘͎̪̼͇̻̹̜͕̦ͫ̆͌ͦ͂ͩ̔̈́̀͑ͣ̋̓͊̍ͮͥ̋̋ͦ̉́͛ͧ͒̍ͭͨ͠͞͝͞ͅͅó̴̧̮̙̘̗̘̤̙̦̩͉̩͒̒̋ͫͤͯ͐̉ͩ̓̽ͣ̀͟͠͝w̶̧̡̲̫͖̫̦̹̱͖͖̭̲͕̗̬̰̤͙͎̫ͦ̎̇̇͆͂̌̊̌̃̊̔̾ͯͩ͑ͭ̓̉̕͢͢͞͡͠ b̶̴̛̛̜͔͉̣̺͚̰̠̠͎̞̯ͧ̑̒̂̄͆̉̎̌͗ͫ̌̏̔̿ͥ͒̽ͤͧ̇͆͆͋͊̄͌ͦ̚͝͠ê̙͍̥͚̣͂̊̿̀̎ͮ͋ͅf̪͉̤̖̬̦̼̤́́̈́̃ͣͥ͛̎ͨͪ̂ͮͣͨ̋̚o̰̟̱̦̤̼̱̺ͦ̐ͨͮͨ̿́̓̐ͨ͂͘͢͢͢r̡̢̡̢̗̭̯̘̘̘͇̺̯̭̱̓ͮ̃̆ͨ̈́͑̒͗̚͝͡e̛͔̠̻̖͊́͐͆͂ͥ͜ y̡̦̹̲͉̟͙̼͋̓̓̀̅̏̾͞o̸͈̪̝̜͍̹̎͆̓͐̏̀͟͡_̀̊ͪ͗ͮ͢ų̡̡̭̮̘̼̮́̆͊̋͗͛͑̃͊̋̿̅̉͂̽͢͟ṟ̨̟̙̲̟̤̩͂͑ͮ̑̓̓̔͒̐̓͑̚ s̴̡͚͎̻̻̦̫̰̗͚͎̝͌ͥͪ̔́̒̏̇̑ͪ̒ͧ̋͒͌̅͢͜͟͠ͅṳ̧̨̩̮͕̀͌ͫ̂̏̕͜p̸̢͎̣͔̳̟͓͓̘̱̗̯͇̥͉͚̳͔̺̭ͤͬͨͩͯ̉̄͐̐ͣͮ͌́̿͌̕̚͝͝͠͝e̘̖r̸̨͈̝͎͚̖̟͇̣͂̕i̶̷̢̘͖̰̺̭͉̱͙͔͇̲̳͖̳͇͍ͪ͂̊̀ͩͫ̍̈̆̍͐̾̎̎̾̂͆̽ͪ́͒̕͟͜͞͠ò̶̧̢͈̗̺̣̤̲͚̰ͪ̍ͨ̃̐͗̄̚ͅr̷̨̧͖͚̤͍̠͚͍̮͈̺̬̜̼͙̠̮̜͕̪̱̩̫̬͇ͥ̒̓̃͊ͯ͛̇͐̅̓͗ͭ̐͟͝͞͡,̸̷̤̱̹͓̘͕̻̳̳̀͒̓̽ͫ̇ͦͬ͗̊̅͋̓̋̕͟͠͠͞_̸̣͚̭̜͇͓͓ͤͪ̓͗͡ m̴̴̢̠̭͙̘͍̝͉̱̙͈̖̻͚͓͓̰̭͌̒̍̓̏̉ͥͭ̽̍ͧͦ͋͢͟͠͞o̲̹̽̕_̵̴̝̮̯͇͉͕̺͇̬͍̥̗̙̥̺͉͈̤̲̏̅ͭ͌ͤ͑ͭ̋ͩ̓ͬ̽̋́̑̚͜͞ͅr̶̡̨̻̤ͩ͗ͫ͂̾͡t̴̶̡̞̻̮͉̗̬͕͎̩̫̱̿̎͋ͥ́ͫ̓ͨͣͨ̉ͬ̾̒́̿ͨ͗̚͟a̷̵̧̡̢̛̲͉̬͓̖̜̼̬̙̰͎̩̝̺͓̠̱͆ͮ́̿̏̉ͦ̈́̀̂̐̌ͦ́ͯͯ͘͡͞͞ļ̢̢̨̳͓͔̟͉̬̘̞͈͓̦̭͓̺̋͂͗͒ͫ̉̆̑͐̅ͤ̋̑̕͢͜͞s̡̟̼̬!̴̛̫̞̱̯̮͚̗̤͓̗͕̺̇̉̑̒ͣͣ̔͋̇͛̆ͬ̃̑̎͘͡͝͡_̵͉̜̻̉̊̈́̓̄
The presence of the demon was overwhelming. It drew the eye, refusing to release the beholder.
In a way, the demon almost looked angelic, in the biblical manner. Its main body was an emaciated humanoid figure, completely covered in blood-red eyes that continued to cry black ichor, staining everything.
Its face was devoid of everything but three sets of eyes too, and a pair of black feathers jutted out of the back of the demon’s skull, curving forward and up like a faux halo, or a pair of horns. Its arms and legs were tipped with wickedly sharp claws that looked metallic, just like its sweeping, galaxy-colored wings did. Those, too, were covered in more eyes, but these were closed in slumber, still weeping, but refusing to dare glance at reality.
Then a tear spread across the demon’s face, raw flesh gaping for a second before the hole deepened and a tongue, teeth, and a functional mouth formed. “You ruin everything, once more. Little mortals, standing in the face of infinity.”
Its voice stabbed deep into Rowan’s conscious, evoking feelings of dread and guilt and self-disgust at his own existence.
The churn of emotions was thankfully enough to let the hero tear his eyes away from the many crimson orbs that dotted the demon’s flesh, finally letting him take in the rest of the room.
The space was large, but most of it was taken up by four towering pillars. The said pillars were now cracked and lifeless, the murals of four different demons that once adorned them fading. Rowan easily recognized Cyraenan and Sybelin, which meant that the other two were legendary demons as well.
Chains twisted around and into the pillars, then extended into the demon king’s flesh, piercing deep into his back. Most of the chains were blackened and cracked at that point, though four still bound him to his throne and shone a deep scarlet.
“You can’t leave well enough alone. Can’t you see? You can do nothing to stop me. Nothing but delay. Time after time, you force me away, force me to claw my way back here. You would be so much happier in my embrace. Accept me. Accept the Ruler of Demons, and you will be at peace.”
The speech was interrupted by laughter and jeering.
“Ⱨ₳! ⱠØØ₭ ₳₮ Ⱨł₥ ₴₱Ɇ₳₭! ₳ⱤɆ ₮ⱧɆ ฿Ɇ₮₴ ₵ⱠØ₴ɆĐ?”
“₦Ø₮ ɎɆ₮. ł’₥ ₩łⱠⱠł₦₲ ₮Ø ₮₳₭Ɇ ɎØɄ Ʉ₱. ₮Ɇ₦ ₮ⱧØɄ₴₳₦Đ ₴ØɄⱠ₴ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ⱧɆ ₣₳łⱠ₴ ₳₲₳ł₦?”
“₮ⱧɆ ₣ØØⱠł₴Ⱨ ĐⱤɆ₳₥ɆⱤ, ₩ɆɆ₱ł₦₲ ₳₮ Ⱨł₴ ₩ØɄ₦Đ₴!”
Nausea unlike anything before struck out at Rowan, and it was only his Eidolon Body activating that let him avoid emptying his stomach. Some of the others were not that lucky, and the sound of sick splattering made the Stalwart Hero clench his teeth.
His eyes swept over the hall in a hurry, but he regretted it when the twisting lines of space that warped into inhuman faces only made the sensation worse.
“Silence! Begone, you wretches who mock your own king! I will kill these fools, claim this world’s power, and then reclaim my throne!”
“₮ⱧⱤØ₦Ɇ! Ⱡł₭Ɇ ⱧɆ Ⱨ₳Đ Ø₦Ɇ ₮Ø ฿Ɇ₲ł₦ ₩ł₮Ⱨ.”
“₩ⱧɎ, ₳ ₥₳ⱤQɄł₴, ₮ⱧⱤØ₩ł₦₲ Ⱨł₴ ₩Ɇł₲Ⱨ₮ ₳ⱤØɄ₦Đ Ⱡł₭Ɇ ₮Ⱨł₴?”
“₩₳₮₵Ⱨł₦₲ Ⱨł₥ ฿Ɇ₲ ₳₦Đ ₩Ⱨł₥₱ɆⱤ ł₴ ₳Ⱡ₩₳Ɏ₴ ₣Ʉ₦.”
With a roar of rage and madness, the demon king lurched up off his throne.
The Marquis of Empty Dreams challenges you!
The local Unstable Reality has been sealed!
The lettering of the demon’s title started out as a dark orange, lightened, then faded back to dark before slipping through purple and even down into blue, before flickering back to its original color.
The chains that bound the demon to its throne tightened and tugged at its flesh as it moved, causing drops of ichor to splatter into the already present puddle, but the demon ignored it all, and the chains seemed to slowly extend from its efforts.
Rowan took that as his sign to strike.
The tip of his spear exploded against the demon’s chest, but it felt more like striking concrete. In spite of that, the Stalwart Hero redoubled his effort with another strike towards the monster’s legs. Instead of meeting tough resistance, it easily sliced through.
Overcommitted, Rowan pitched forward and was met by the demon’s claws.
For a fraction of a second, they were slicing through him easily and made it several inches into his flesh. Then they became blunt, useless instruments and he was flung against one of the four pillars to the sound of every bone in his body snapping.
Screaming in pain as his body knit itself back together, Rowan watched as the front line fighters of their party launched themselves forward.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Marcus took the center position, letting the demon rain down blow after blow and not flinching an inch. Each time the demon was about to land a hit, the outline of the knight’s armor flashed around Marcus, and he merely grunted.
Clarke had figured out his footing in the mad scramble against the knight earlier, and he was now committed to hit and run tactics, weaving in and out of range as he dealt blow after blow. Some left angry gashes that slowly sealed in the demon’s flesh, while others bounced off harmlessly.
The Mercenary King, backed up by the trio of Rowan’s [Knights], was following the young man’s example.
The left Blake who became a corona of holy energies that pulsed and extended with each of his strikes. The demon seemed entirely incapable of stopping these attacks, to the point where its flesh sizzled and cooked from sheer proximity.
The casters were just as effective, strikes of magic, healing, and protection raining down on the combatants as they strained their mental stats to keep up with and target the right figure in the chaotic melee.
After a few seconds, Rowan managed to shamble over, then take a proper strike as his body returned to its rightful state, spear moving like a meteor in a blaze of black-streaked red energy.
They were winning.
The demon was fighting like an animal, but it could do little to truly punish them. Rowan caught onto its fluctuating strength quickly, and his heart soared as he realized that in spite of all the obstacles, they managed to damage the demon king before it could really establish itself and become a true part of their world.
And then reality exploded.
“Enough!”
The scream of frustration tore causality apart, and the room wobbled into a horrible spherical mess of matter and energy. On what used to be the far wall, a wide-open gate erupted into being, revealing ethereal chains that wound around the demon. It fought to keep its footing, the chains of the throne grounding it in place somewhat, but Rowan could tell it would eventually lose.
That didn’t help them in the moment.
Rowan felt torn into a million different pieces. His left arm was moving so quickly it blurred through the air, while his right was swimming in molasses. His head felt like it was two meters away, and pieces of his torso were in at least twelve different dimensions.
Rowan’s mind swam as it broke under the stress of merely processing what he was seeing, and then the demon was moving.
A careless gesture and its claws easily reached Desmond, slicing the knight’s body into countless ribbons. Another twitch of leg sent a massive foot crashing down, and turned Fia into a smear. Clarke roared and swung, but the panels of space and time adjusted just so that his arm ceased to exist. Another strike, and Tamara puffed into a cloud of blood as space itself squeezed her.
Marcus screamed, blood erupting out of him as his card fought and failed to contain the kind of damage that had easily slaughtered his companions.
The demon turned, and with every ounce of its strength, brought down one of its wings on Marcus.
The wolf kin cried out at a billion different volumes, and the armor that formed around him actually showed signs of cracks. In spite of that, the beast folk stubbornly reached out to deliver his own hit, and for the first time the demon reeled as all the damage Marcus did manage to absorb was transferred back to it.
For just a moment, the demon’s hold on reality slipped.
In the midst of the chaos, in the midst of the slaughter, only a single human stood with a peaceful expression on her face.
Her eyes took everything in, the space and time that fought to restore themselves and the chains that still bound the demon, tugging it in both directions. She saw the demon reach out, seeking to prevent its domain from unraveling so it could finish wiping them all out.
And she made a decision.
“[Bulwark of the End]!” Jacques de Vort’s voice was determination itself as her mana, her life force, and everything that made up her soul exploded outwards, and the laws of reality themselves turned their eyes in the woman’s direction.
Every soul in the space was caught up in a vision of the woman, standing tall and proud, with a sad smile on her face before the vision fractured, taking a life with it.
The demon’s control once more wrapped around the world, but when it brought its fist down punishingly on Marcus to finish the fight, it was met by a thin protective field.
The field looked spun out of the thinnest glass imaginable. But it held against the demon’s attack.
Roaring in pain as the full force of its attack landed on its own flesh, the demon chose a new target. It clawed out at Blake, but its claws bent and began to crack. Feathers of alien metal shattered when they were brought sweeping out at Olivia. A beam of destructive red force was released in a moment of despair, but it washed over the casters without so much as ruffling their clothes.
Rowan gasped in relief the moment the protective field settled on him, and even with all the space-time craziness going on, he felt firmly rooted to reality. As the demon pointlessly rampaged, the hero struck.
Rowan didn’t aim for the creature itself. Blake had beat him to it and was screaming as he laid into the enemy, sword and fist flashing. But he was barely doing any damage and it was healing faster than the pace Blake could create those tiny wounds.
Instead, Rowan’s spear aimed for the throne, right where one of the chains sprung up out of it. With an explosion that shook the space around them and sent time and space into yet another wonky spiral, the chain snapped off alongside a whole section of the throne.
The demon was tugged towards the gate violently, and certainly noticed. It turned its hate-filled eyes on Rowan, and the hero was suddenly the focus of a whirlwind of blows that sent the demon’s own blood and flesh flying around when it failed to reach him.
The others, however, noticed what Rowan was doing.
With a rage that Rowan didn’t think the man capable of, the grim-faced Mercenary King tore into the throne.
Another chain snapped, another lurch of the demon closer to the gate.
It spun, panic and fear finally showing on its face as it tried to strike at every soul in the room at once. It couldn’t damage them yet, but it was keeping them stuck in place and the protective film that covered them was growing dimmer and losing its slight shine even as the demon’s own ability to resist the forces of reality was slipping.
It was then that Blake’s rage reached a crescendo, and the hero ignited even brighter, pushing his way closer to the throne. With a hate-filled scream, one of the last two chains was severed along with most of the throne.
The demon sailed through the air, incapable of resisting anymore, before the twisted world stuttered and abruptly turned back to normal. The demon slammed into the now empty stretch of wall, its singular chain glowing weakly, cracks showing throughout. With hate-filled eyes, it raised its head.
“Empty… dreams,” it rasped its declaration, and crimson light erupted.
—
Kayla huffed, carefully maintaining a practiced expression of disappointed indifference. Her eyes swept over the hall and the nobility gathered there, before once more falling on the terrified face of the man who had failed her.
“Repeat what you just told me.”
“M-My Queen… We did our best! I swear to you! The capital of the Rhys kingdom will fall within the week! I apologize for the delays, but I swear —”
The man was cut off when one of Kayla’s sworn knights stepped forward and landed a blow on the back of his head, making him collapse like a puppet. To the pin-drop silence of the room, he was dragged out of the hall, his fate plain to all.
“I do not allow for failure. You will either obey… or you will serve me in other ways,” the Hero Queen declared, settling down on her throne with a smirk.
—
Blake abruptly came to, eyes blinking wide as he took in the room around him. Confusion warred within his mind, flashes of murals and blood spinning away in his thoughts even as he took in the calm, beige tones of his room within the castle.
“Blake? What’s wrong?” Amanda mumbled quietly, making his face flush when the woman rose up out of bed, leaning on her arm and rubbing her eyes sleepily. “How early is it? I’ve told you we’re not doing anything until noon.”
Blake really wanted to look away from the expanse of soft flesh before him, but it was rapidly emptying his head of any lingering nightmares, so he was practically forced to look!
Mirabelle’s soft giggle sounded from Amanda’s other side, and the woman plopped her chin down on the princess’s shoulder, shooting Blake a conspiratorial smile. “Told you we can’t keep him in bed until noon.”
“True, though we did try.” Jacques drawled as she wrapped an arm around Blake’s back, and the hero froze.
Rage. His entire world was rage.
“Blake, what’s wrong?” the woman behind him asked, worry slipping into her voice.
The hero turned slowly, reluctantly, until his eyes finally landed on her face.
Your fragmented portfolio of [Freedom] is reacting!
Your fragmented portfolio of [Radiance] is reacting!
Blake’s world was rage. And he wasn’t about to let any illusion lull him away from reality.
The Hero of Light screamed, and the world around him cracked.
—
Rowan blinked, and waved away an annoying fly that would just not stop buzzing around his face. The night was clammy and hot, and he was just thankful that the mosquitoes were not out in force yet.
“Can you please stop playing with the insects and walk a little faster? They’re waiting for us, and it should really not take this long for us to walk to the store,” Olivia complained, swinging their hands and doing her best to make him walk faster.
“And what if I’m just enjoying a stroll with my girlfriend, hm?” Rowan quipped right back, resisting the smile that threatened to take over his face.
Olivia sighed, but did snuggle up closer to him. The new angle gave him a view right down the front of her loose shirt, and she caught him in the act and giggled mischievously.
“You know what? You were right. I wouldn’t want to leave Emma waiting with those five idiots. Who knows how far they’re going to push her sanity.”
Something about the mention of that name made Rowan flinch, then look around. When he met Olivia’s eyes again, the fear faded. He’d stress over exams or whatever it was later. He had his lovely girlfriend right there next to him, and not even his best friend’s complicated romance was enough to distract him.
And then Rowan’s world was washed away in a tide of rage.
Olivia’s voice didn’t matter. The pain of hitting the pavement didn’t matter. The only thing that dominated his thoughts was the pure rage slamming into his soul through the link with his best friend.
A link? Rowan’s thoughts screeched to a halt as memories came flooding in.
The world around him shattered, dominated by an animalistic scream.
—
Rowan jerked upright, his head still swimming in pain unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. Through blurry eyes, he could spot the bodies of his friends scattered around him, their eyes closed in slumber.
All but one of his friends, that is.
Blake’s howls of rage and agony were echoing through the chamber as the sound of combat spread, and Rowan finally forced himself to stumble to his feet, looking towards where the commotion was.
Light was gushing out from under Blake’s skin, scorching everything around him as he threw himself against the demon king again and again. Rowan was practically watching in real time as the strikes grew stronger, more refined, more vicious.
The demon was on the back foot, barely managing to keep a step ahead of the hero, placing limbs in the path of his sword just to prevent Blake from reaching vital organs.
Even then, the spray of its black blood was stemming, exhaustion was weighing down its limbs, and fear was the chief emotion that dominated its unnatural features.
“No! No! Not again! I will not be forced to give up once more! I’ll-!”
With the scream of a wounded animal, Blake’s sword flickered and cut straight through the demon’s jaw. The lower half of its face and a flapping tongue landed wetly a few feet away, silencing the demon’s tirade and turning its speech into wordless cries of horror.
Blake didn’t stop attacking, but his focus shifted.
Inch by inch, limb by limb, he brutalized the being who declared itself the demon king, until it was reduced to a whimpering mass of flesh in front of the crazed hero. Even then, a single chain linked it to the throne.
The chain looked ready to snap from the many cracks that spread throughout it, but the demon clung to its lifeline stubbornly, refusing to fade from the mortal plane.
Blake stood now, sword gripped in his hands so hard it was creaking, his breathing ragged and eyes still wild.
Slowly, like he would approach a highly dangerous animal, Rowan stepped forward.
“Finish it, Blake. Just cut the chain, or stab it in its heart, or cut off its head. Finish this,” Rowan implored quietly, daring to lay a hand on the other hero’s shoulder.
Blake shuddered and made a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “I don’t want to. I want it to suffer.”
“How long? Until it bleeds out, somehow? You do see that it doesn’t even have blood leaving what’s left of its body anymore. Or are we going to wait until it somehow regenerates?” Rowan kept his voice calm, conversational.
Even then, Blake practically growled as he spun to face his friend.
“It killed her! This thing killed her! I promised I’d protect them, and —”
Rowan hugged his best friend, making the other hero freeze. For a long moment, the Stalwart Hero was convinced he’d just get stabbed. Then Blake dropped his sword and clung to Rowan as sobs wrecked his body.
“You didn’t fail, Blake. Jacques de Vort made her own choice. For you and Amanda and Mirabella. For all of us. Just because she chose to protect you, doesn’t mean you failed her.”
Blake sobbed harder, but Rowan didn’t care about the snot and tears dripping down his shirt. He did stiffen when a new set of arms wrapped around them, only for a startled glance to reveal the pained face of Kayla.
Rowan didn’t know how long the three of them stood there like that, shivering and pretending like tears weren’t streaming down their cheeks, but when they broke apart, they refused to look at each as if by an agreement until they’d wiped their faces clean.
“Well, you gonna stab it then, or should I?” Kayla asked, affecting that same cocky tone she always used. It sounded weak and hollow at the moment, but Blake still sent her a fond smile.
Slowly, like he was performing a ceremony, Blake picked up the sword he’d dropped. With determined steps, he drew up to the demon king, and with his eyes locked on one of the few pairs of crimson orbs left on the creature’s face, he brought the blade down.
A whisper, a cursed promise, touched the minds of the heroes. “You accomplish… nothing… a dream… cannot die… I will… return…”
The final chain shattered, and Rowan’s world tilted sideways.
Congratulations!
[Somantis, the Marquis of Empty Dreams], the source of Demonic Corruption, has been slain!
Calculating…
Conditions 8/8 fulfilled.
UNSEALING REQUIREMENTS MET.