Rafflesia’s new host body lay tattered, her fight extended only due to the surrounding dark mist which defended her flanks, yet even still numerous wounds marked her body to the point that her regenerative abilities had begun to slow considerably. A spear wound that may have closed after a minute was now taking two to three, and in that time neither of her two assailants would remain silent or stationary. Yet even with such odds stacked against her Rafflesia had no way to escape, the second she turned her back one of the two opponents would strike. Should she escape deeper into the hold she would be going against Rhododendrun, possibly forsaking the protection of the dark magic keeping her safe right now.
Desperate and without any other options, Rafflesia was left with little choice than to consider the increasingly one-sided struggle for fear of what would happen should her last ally choose to abandon her. This time there would be no backup, no escape from certain death, her body tensed, and glare sharpened as she drifted through the dark black mist, avoiding the errant thrust while maintaining her focus on Malakos, the weaker of the two fighters.
Rafflesia took her time now, occasionally jumping out of the mist and attacking from an unexpected direction, probing Maatilani’s defenses and the strength and range of her barrier. This back-and-forth exchange would continue, a minute turned into five, and that became ten, all the while the battles above were continuing to rage, the cacophony of battle echoing down through the hole in the officer’s cabin above.
“Are you sure the two of you can waste your time here? Shouldn’t you be rushing to assist your lord, even now he must be suffering deeper within… Or what about all your subordinates above… How will they deal with all the little toys we prepared for your arrival?” Rafflesia continued her slow circle within the mist, striking occasionally with her long reach before quickly retreating within the safety of the darkness. These strikes did not appear to have much power behind them, just a series of probing attacks meant to buy time or whittle away at Maatilani’s and Malakos’s patience.
Malakos appeared somewhat anxious, his hand tightening around the shaft of his spear, only his bronze shield offered protection whereas Maatilani had the benefit of her ability, something Malakos yet lacked. Even still because of Malakos’s presence Maatilani was forced to remain on the defensive, waiting for a chance to counterattack, a moment for their opponent to overextend her reach. A reality that was unlikely to happen unless something changed drastically, for Rafflesia was trusting in Rhoden’s ability to deal with the Scholar, while in her weakened state she wanted nothing more than to drag the two into a battlefield advantageous to her, one steeped in the dark mist that would make up for her weakened form.
A loud distant roar reverberated in the air, muffled due to the distance, yet still clearly audible. Both Maatilani and Malakos turned their attention for that brief instant and had to defend against another strike from the darkness. Yet the usage of her ability was taking a toll even on Maatilani, the defensive stance forcing her to expend prana at a much faster pace than if she had been fighting offensively. The reality being that her ability was low tier in terms of utility when compared to some of the others, it was only due to Maatilani’s martial prowess, expert spearmanship, and heightened reflexes that her bulwark ability was allowed to shine.
However, even with its low prana cost, there was still a cost, and maintaining an ability continuously would take its toll. More worrying was the speed at which Rafflesia’s attacks were accelerating, her strikes more frequent, and her retreats unanswered. What the two had yet to notice was the slowly shrinking light coming through to the lower deck, the shadows growing larger, and in turn their area of operation shrinking as the mist encroached further.
All the while Rafflesia could not help but delight in the anticipation of the coming feast. Her eyes focusing solely on the Hritian woman’s muscular frame. Undoubtedly a perfect host for such a creature, one with ample inner energy upon which to feed and grow, in addition to a body that would not fall apart from over exceeding its limits like her current host.
As the shadows grew and their strength waned, Maatilani’s gaze was focused elsewhere, peering into the thick darkness to where her lord had vanished earlier.
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Caedyrn heard the sounds around him, the faint whispers of promises, gifts of knowledge, or strength, of immortality. Yet he continued upon his path, weaving through the ever-darkening mist, his axe occasionally striking out and severing a shadowy limb, causing those in the vicinity to recoil once again. Both the inscription etched into the head of the axe, and the chain around his neck glowed with light.
“It seems you were prepared for my welcome…” The strange, muffled voice emerged from all around, seeming close, yet also afar, ever shifting and flowing like the darkness swirling within the lower decks. “So, the corpse eater spoke the truth… One cannot always trust the words of such dregs of society, bottom-feeders who have slowly descended into their own madness, unable to recognize just how deranged they have become.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“To be honest, I could say the same about you… You go on and on about bottom feeders, does that feeling of superiority over another help justify the reality that you yourself are monster? Giving up your humanity to become an unthinking stooge, a slave to your goddess, and to your cult?” Caedyrn moved slightly to the right, tilting his head to the side just as a three-foot wooden stake flew past, disappearing into the darkness seconds before a loud crack could be heard, the sound of two objects impacting one another.
“How rude… Here I thought you invited me as a guest. Were you not already informed about my views regarding your object of worship? Or maybe I struck a nerve… Is it difficult having your world view challenged? Is the groveling of the desperate masses more to your liking? Does that make you feel strong… Worth something? Because on my eyes, you’re just a slave, a dog on a leash, herding the sheep into your master’s arms… A master, mind you, that doesn’t even know that you exist.” This time the reaction was much more intense, Caedyrn dodged left then right, using his axe to deflect the projectiles before jumping to the side to avoid the winged appendage that came down shattering the floorboards upon which he had been standing only seconds earlier.
Caedyrn responded with a barrage of arrows, fired randomly in the direction that the wing like appendage had emerged from. All three released in quick succession disappeared into the shadows, providing no additional information, neither informing the Scholar of how far they might have flown or where his enemy might be. “I must say this is quite the welcome, all these fun little games we’re playing… However, don’t you think its time we end this farce? Are you planning on just hiding in the dark? You won’t kill me that way.”
A few seconds passed within that dark void before a hoarse voice finally responded, it was much closer than the time before. “Unfortunately, I have no intention to kill you. As much as I would like to tear you limb from limb for your insults, your fate will be much worse when my master gets his hands on you.” A shard of condensed mist, concentrated into the shape of a sickle came swinging down. Somehow Caedyrn had avoided the attack by a hair’s breadth, a shallow gash opening on his chest, a light trickle of blood flowing from the wound. “That’s not to say I have to deliver you in the best of condition, or in one piece for that matter… so long as your tongue functions fine.”
Another three arrows flew out once again, and again they provided nothing, no satisfying yell of pain, no thump of arrow striking wood… absolutely nothing. Yet even still Caedyrn appeared unusually calm, he was neither panicking, nor showing any signs of anger, his emotions were still, cold, and empty. “You talk far too much Rhoden… Your master never talked quite this much. I’m pretty sure that man would tell you to keep your mouth shut and just do the job without all these fanciful theatrics.”
Following the Scholar’s words something within the atmosphere changed, a sense of shock was palpable in the air. Those words had more effect on the Warden than any of the general insults that had been leveled at his object of worship up to that point. The reason was simple, the Scholar’s words indicated a much deeper knowledge than anyone outside their order would ever be privy too, hinting at a reality that could upend everything the Warden believed in.
Whatever the case, something was triggered within the Warden, he acted rashly, seeking to eliminate the threat to himself and everything he believed in. Yet it was at this moment that a sinister smile formed on the older man’s face, his eyes staring directly at his opponent, even as he remained encased within his shroud of darkness and shadows. There was no time to stop his movement, Rhododendrun’s body was already in motion, his hand coming down, scythe threatening to slice the man in two.
However, just before the scythe came down, thin lines of blue light shot out from the darkness, wrapping up the warden’s outstretched arm. As if waiting for that precise moment, the Scholar struck, the edge of his axe glowing with blue flame as it cut through his reinforced flesh and natural armor. The axe entered his lower left flank, cutting through his navel in an upward diagonal slash, bisecting the warden’s body until exiting from the other end and hacking off his outstretched right arm along with the shadowy scythe.
“If you had told your master about me, I’m sure he would have advised you to hurry back home. Your hubris and attempt at glory is your undoing. Here is one final lesson for you, consider it a gift for your crossing… never underestimate your enemy, and always take your time to analyze their actions.” As he said this Caedyrn grabbed the dying Rhoden by his hair and turned his attention to the area behind him. Then as the shadows had begun to recede, Rhoden’s eyes widened in shock, the arrows he had thought randomly shot were in fact glowing, a single tendril of light connected to the blue strings of light which had stopped his attack.
“A single second can be the difference between life and death. You were still far too inexperienced, to reliant on those powers. Too bad you won’t get the chance to learn from this experience.” Caedyrn raised the bisected body of the defeated warden, his target was his core, the jet-black heart of mana within his body. His hand inches away, ready to yank the crystal from its location, killing the warden once and for all.
It was in that moment, as Rhododendrun cursed his hubris, his eyes glaring at his soon to be killer that the world around them erupted. A shockwave separated the two, throwing them against the scattered benches or hull of the flagship. The ceiling was gone, the upper deck vaporized in the explosion, shattered wooden splinters scattered everywhere.
Being a creature with a naturally hardy exterior, the Warden suffered less from the unforeseen detonation of energy. A lucky break for Rhododendrun who after casting away his pride turned and ran, making his escape through the newly created exit with spindly limbs of intertwined roots. His powers had been diminished, his body broken, he had no strength left with which to fight, yet he would survive, live to fight another day, and take his opponents words to heart. Next time he would be the one gazing over the old man’s broken frame.