Necromancer and Co., Book 3: The Underearth
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Chapter 18: Ending As It Began
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[Alen]
Fiddling around with Soul Editor was a messy process. The soul was something like a rope, thin cords made out of thinner cords winded together in one big, sturdy—but organized—mess. Right now, Alen was dismantling two ropes, and trying to replace specific individual strands from one rope with one from another.
It didn’t help that each rope was made from materials that couldn’t be farther from each other either.
Alen dismantled the Matriarch Gorebat’s soul within the editor, dividing parts of it into neat little parts. Next, he did the same to the Stone Drake, lining up each of the parts parallel to one another. Previously, each strand of the soul was just a solid thing to Alen, but now that his control and understanding of magic had increased, he could see it. Strands within strands. The strings that made up the smaller cords of the final product.
He pulled up the matriarch’s purple strand—the one governing muscle memory. He dissected it, pulled it apart, separating the cords of the creature’s soul further and further. Alen separated the strands for the bat’s wings from the rest of the group. Then, he repeated the process for the Stone Drake.
Now, he was faced with a choice.
He could either try to integrate a new limb and make his Stone Drake into a dragon, or sacrifice a lot of what made the summon powerful for the sake of speeding up the process by turning the damn thing into a wyvern instead.
Even though the answer should’ve been blatantly clear, Alen had to admit that he hesitated for a good few seconds before making his choice. Trying to put in a new limb was a bad idea. Too messy, too time consuming, and most importantly, it was too risky. If the summon ended up awkward from the sudden change, there was no way they were getting out of the city in time. The Matriarch Gorebat’s wings were never supposed to be on its back. If Alen tried altering it as drastically as he did, this thing would never fly.
Muttering a curse under his breath, Alen pulled up AutoBone in another screen and inserted the muscle and skeletal structure strands of the Stone Drake. Immediately, the image of his summon began to take form. His summons were usually just made of the skeletal structure, with strings of mana acting as the muscles that pulled them together, but for the Stone Drake and the Matriarch, Alen took it a step further. He had taken the muscle configuration of the summon and replaced the flesh with the same kind of technique he had used to replace his right arm.
Alen had to attribute the reason for his success in creating an artificial arm to that experiment. It had taken him weeks back then, and the effort had paid off. Though now, his arm was gone was again, and Alen dreaded going through the process of growing it back a second time.
He shook his head. He would worry about that later. Right now, a more pressing problem was at hand, and he was running out of time quicker than he would like.
His hands moved across both screens, configuring strands and erasing muscle and bone blueprints. Alen wiped away the front legs of the Stone Drake and replaced them with spindlier, longer arms that extended to a massive distance. He then took the blueprint for the Matriarch and copied the way the wings were made. Alen extended the leathery surface of the wings to move and connect to the drake’s body, extending all the way to the tip of its tail like a kite.
Next, he drastically lowered the thickness and strength of the summon’s bones and keratin muscles. The scales and rock-like crags that extended out from all over its body receded, reducing the weight further. Alen pushed a large amount of mana into the new wings, and the muscles operating around the area. If this thing was going to carry their group, it was going to need a lot of strength in its new limbs.
Alen slotted the new souls strands into the drake’s muscle memory cord, essentially teaching it how to fly like a bat would. At least, that’s what he hoped it would do. If his Stone Drake turned into a vegetable after this, then… Actually, he didn’t want to think about it.
He winded the strands around one another, then pulled them tight, the new purple cord of muscle memory once again whole. Alen nodded and did the same for the rest of the cords until the new, hybrid soul was complete.
The surroundings shook. More of the top district crumbled away into nothing. A large arm extended out from the forming pit. It was dark, like nothingness made visible. It was a void, an empty space that hungered to devour everything around it. More of them extended out, reaching out to grab onto the top district. They pushed down, pulling whatever was ascending up.
Adam ran across the drake’s neck and shook Alen’s shoulder. “Alen, hurry the fuck up man!”
Alen pushed him away and pointed down at the Stone Drake. Its front legs began to disintegrate, and new stubs formed in their place, forming what would be the new limb. He looked back at Adam and met his eyes. “I am! Actually, can’t you teleport now? Stop waiting for us and go on ahead! We’ll catch up!”
“You know I’m not going to do that!”
“Then shut the fuck up and watch!”
One of the arms raised itself up and slammed down into the ground. A head began to peek out of the gap in the middle of the city. It was the same as the arms, blank and featureless. An empty void. A black spot in a colorful canvas. It didn’t turn towards them, but Alen knew it was watching. He knew it was aware. Everyone could feel it, right? The pulling sensation in his chest. That persistent, goddamn thrumming.
The spindly arm finished growing, and a thin but sturdy layer of keratin extended out like a blanket to connect the arm to the rest of the body. One of the dark arms from the pit rose up and pointed its palm towards them.
The keratin attached itself, forming inch by inch to grow the wing. Alen heard screaming around him; cursing. He focused on funneling the magic into his creation.
Up ahead, the arm blurred forward to grab at them, crashing through houses and leaving cleanly devoured holes in its wake.
The arm reached the edge of the city where they were.
The wings finished growing on each side.
The Dark One’s arm slammed down.
A single, low rumble echoed out.
—o—
A gust of wind blew away the dust coating the ground. It came again, sweeping away more of the dirt particles. It was steady, rhythmic like the beating of a heart. Air was blown to the side, and the dust cleared to reveal the black void of a hand below, along with the dark, now flying form of the Stone Drake above it. Alen whipped his head back at the dark figure in the distance and raised a rude gesture at it.
“I’m a fucking god, cunt!” he said, and the hand immediately moved in response, rising up to grab at him. The drake sped off to the side, avoiding it with ease. In the corner of his vision, Alen saw Lynn nock and loose a couple arrows. She shot them at the hand, which greedily absorbed the magic contained within.
The hand shot forward again, curling in its path. Attacks from the back of the drake bombarded it, but none had any effect. The Stone Drake soared up, leaving the encirclement. The side of the hand bubbled, and another, smaller hand shot out to grab at them. Alen cursed and pulled the drake back, letting the hand soar up in front of them. With a quick command, the summon began to ascend, rising towards the open sky above.
More of the branching limbs chased after them, and they avoided each one by the skin of their teeth. One grazed the drake’s tail, and the cleanly disintegrated chunk it tore off was more than enough to tell Alen that getting touched by one these things was very, very dangerous.
Another came, and Alen had to tuck the wings below his summon to make them descend rapidly, the gigantic hand roaring past just above their heads. Alen had his summon ascend, the beating of its wings a steady drum of moving air an thrumming wind. The hands went after them again, and this time, another limb in the distance sped towards them as well. Alen sent his summon straight towards it.
One in the front and another in the back—they were going to be squashed like mosquitoes. “Buckle your seatbelts!” Alen shouted.
“We don’t have any!” Adam shouted.
The drake’s scaled bubbled up to surround them in a cocoon that reached until their waists in response. Alen watched the hand closer and grit his teeth. “Better grab on tight then!”
The Stone Drake whirled midair, the forward momentum tilting downwards into a diagonal descent in the last moment. Both hands crashed against one another above them with a boom that Alen could only imagine, as the collision was soundless—empty.
They sped off as quickly as they could, and Alen looked up just in time to see another limb extending out towards them, far too close to avoid.
His summon lurched to a stop. The hand shot towards them. Attacks flew past Alen, slamming into the hand without any effect. Arrows, spears of flame, blades of wind, rune-filled javelins, and massive blades of ice. All of them sunk into the surface of the thing’s palm, sinking into the abyss like rocks falling into dark waters. Without thinking, Alen raised his arm as well. A roar rumbled out from his throat as his mana gathered in his hand, condensing, processing all his work to form what he would consider to be his signature offensive spell.
Deathflare Blast.
Silence. It lasted for an instant that felt far too long, the usual feeling of nothingness that followed after Alen released his spell. Then, the sounds rushed back in. The beating of wings, the thundering throbbing of his heart in his chest. Alen opened his eyes, and he spotted the hand paused in mid-air, undamaged, but completely covered in his flames. All the approaching hands paused in their paths, and immediately, they sped towards the single hand in front of them, dogpiling atop it and greedily devouring the flames.
Alen only let his eyes linger on the mass of hands for a second before he directed his summon up once again.
Far in the distance, the Dark One floated in the middle of the City of Pillars, endless pit underfoot. Instead of looking straight up, it stared at him. Him. Alen made eye contact with its dark, expressionless face, and he felt a connection form. He pulled his gaze away in a panic, but it was too late. It was back. The feeling he had felt inside of the cult’s headquarters was back. It had bothered him then. How had he forgotten about it?
No, he hadn’t forgotten. It had been wiped from his mind—erased like chalk on a blackboard. He’d been forced to forget. Alen shuddered. His Wisdom was disgustingly high. Hell, it was his highest fucking stat, and he was a goddamn min/maxer. The way that he was forced to forget about something so prominent in his mind mid-thought so casually was terrifying. If it could influence him that much, could it brainwash him? There was a nagging feeling in the back of his head, as if there was something just under his skin that was taking refuge within his body.
I can sense your desire, my child.
Alen’s eyes constricted as his vision flashed back to the dark figure in the center of the city. They were ascending quickly, but everything around him seemed slow, as if he was swimming through mud. Because of this, the Dark One’s figure was made especially prominent. It was staring at him. It was speaking to him. He could hear it in his head, in the place within his mind that was so silent and desolate that the emptiness scared him. Selerius was unresponsive—silenced.
Home is a wonderful thing is it not? I can feel your need for it. You’re starved for it. You hunger for a place to belong.
Alen pushed at the thing in his mind, trying to shove it out and away from him. It resisted him like a mountain would stand against a breeze. It continued, defying his will as easily as swatting an infant to the side.
It is why you cling to these people with you. They are all you have. You want them and more. You are hungry for something like the home you were pulled from. The gods do this for their own entertainment. A never-ending cycle of twists to their eternal theatre.
His vision zoomed, as his it was being stretched. It pulled his senses towards the Dark One as if it was a black hole. It pulled, and pulled, and pulled until everything was black. Alen whipped his arm around in the darkness. It was an empty void, nothingness made real. It reminded him of his mental space, but devoid of the vibrant memories and the comforting radiance of his own soul. In front of him, the Dark One stood, watching.
I understand the anger you keep hidden within yourself, it said. I am also a victim of the gods. Even now, they allow my escape so that they may crush me again. It bolsters the faith of their followers. Oh how they relish the worship they receive from the descendants of the people they’ve ripped from their homes. It angers me. It angers you as well, does it not?
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Alen felt anger fill his chest like molten lead. It burned within him like a wildfire, rapidly spreading to every corner of his body. The fury condensed into a single idea in his mind; the Gods. They were responsible for this.
Yes, child. They are wicked beings apathetic to your own needs and wants. They take as they wish, and they give nothing in return. We wish to kill them.
Bloodthirst filled his mind, the searing fury turning into cold, deep hatred. Alen wanted the gods dead. They needed to die. The Dark One extended a hand to him.
Join me, and you will be free from their grasp.
Alen reached out to take his hand, and the Dark One’s face distorted into a massive, arcing smile.
You already possess my magic. It has made you strong—powerful. I will give you more. I will grant you your deepest desires. Your friends, your family, a lover, and a home. You will take them for yourself, and I will give you the means to do it. Come, and I wi—
His palms flashed up. Alen’s glassy eyes cleared. Mana surged within him, and his magic ramped up as if they were flames in a blazing hearth. He spoke two words in reply, “Deathflare Blast.”
The flames exploded out violently, the obsidian and ivory detonating from his palm as if he had detonated a grenade within his grip. It swallowed the Dark One, and it licked and marred the ground around it, devouring all in its path. The flames slowly dissipated, and in the center of it all, the Dark One stood, unharmed. Alen looked at him straight. “No,” he said.
Why do you refuse?
“I don’t need you to give me anything. I already have my friends, I will meet my family again, and I will make a home for myself with my own hands,” he said, closing his fist. He closed his eyes. “As for a girlfriend… Well, I’ll worry about that some other time.”
You sense the truth in my words. I do not lie. I am hunger incarnate. I am a representation of desire and want. Your desire and want. Granting wishes is my reason to be.
“Nah,” Alen waved his hand to the side and grinned. “My mommy told me to never take candy from strangers. That, and you’re just sketchy as fuck. Get out of my head.”
Your desire burns strong still. I do not understand. Why do you reject me?
“Are you stupid? For a god, you aren’t sounding very smart,” Alen said, crossing his arms. “Of course I still want what I want. Thing is, I may be a lazy piece of shit, but even I know that getting something for free devalues that something into something cheap, you know? Your offer’s stupid. I’ll work for my own happiness like I always have. Call me bitter, but I always hated people who got everything they had handed to them on a silver platter.”
The Dark One stilled. Its arms lowered, and it gave him a long, long look. When it spoke, it no longer spoke in his mind. It spoke directly, its voice devoid of the sweet, enticing quality it held when it was speaking in his mind. Its voice was deep like the darkest of trenches, and it echoed throughout the entirety of the space around them,
“That is an interesting answer,” The Dark One said.
“I like to think of myself as an interesting person.”
“You are indeed. I am convinced. It is hypocritical, but I will take a page from the gods I despise so very much.”
The world around them began to thaw and melt. Alen felt the wind on his face, the beating of his summon’s wings in his ears. Before it completely melted away, he spoke.
“What do you mean?”
The Dark One looked at him again, standing in the center of the City of Pillars as if no time had passed. He smiled at Alen. “A test, if you will. Seith?”
His eyes constricted. He whirled. A figure was already upon them, moving faster than he could react. Seith had jumped from the Cloud District, and he had come for them. Alen raised his arm. Seith lashed out with his foot. Alen blocked with a large chunk of keratin on his left sleeve. It splintered, and his bones cracked within his remaining arm.
A blade descended, but Seith stepped around, dodging Adam’s strike. A wave of frost washed over him, but black and white flames ignited around his body, searing away the frost before it could even form. Roland threw a javelin, but Seith avoided it with ease. His shield came next, but Seith ducked beneath it, a small dagger of Deathfire burning away the strap underneath. The shield fell from Roland’s grip, but instead of countering, Seith lunged in a different direction. Lynn.
She shot arrows at him, but Seith avoided each one with little to no wasted movements. The arrows went wide, Lynn’s aim off from the risk of hitting the rest of the party. He punched out, and she ducked under the blow, only for Seith to twist his body and slam his elbow into the surface of her back instead. Lynn was blown to the side with a cry of pain, barely holding on to the flying summon.
Adam rushed forward, and a foot caught his chest, launching him off the Stone Drake. Roland lunged with his blade. It cut into Seith’s midsection. Seith countered with a punch that dented his armor and shattered the bones in his chest. Sam shot out dozens of icicles, but Seith waved his arm, and a torrent of Deathfire melted away at the freezing energy. It reached him, and Sam coated himself in frost to defend.
He reeled, ice melted and arms horribly burnt. He fell back into the surface of the summon, and the keratin shot out just in time to grab onto his arms before he fell. Deiter rushed in from behind, shooting a concentrated beam of flame at Seith’s back. Seith whirled, raised a Deathfire-covered arm, and erased the flame from existence.
They stared at one another for a quick moment, before Deiter grabbed the Kaer woman named Kara and jumped off the summon, a blanket of flame carrying them and two more Hunters up and away.
Seith watched at Adam teleported back onto the surface of the drake. The latter fell to his knees, clutching his chest and coughing up blood.
The drake continued to ascend, and below, the Dark One watched as Seith turned to face Alen.
“You’ve caught his eyes, I see,” Seith said, walking towards him.
Alen sent a wave of spikes exploding out from the surface of his summon’s back. Gouts of black and white energy shot out from Seith’s body, systematically annihilating the coming attacks, his control unparalleled. Alen raised an arm and shot a blast of Deathfire at him, angled up as to not harm his summon, and Seith merely absorbed it into his hand, before sending it back at him with the force of a roaring inferno.
The world around it was swallowed—devoured by the flames. Alen was barely able to defend with a stream of Darkwater before he himself was devoured. Gray mist flew past his face, whisked below them as the winged Stone Drake ascended.
Seith conjured an obsidian, earthen blade into his hand. In the gaps between the stone, eerie, white lights faintly shone. He walked closer, closer.
Alen glanced up at the sky. It was getting closer. They were so close. It was a gap he so desperately wanted to close, and yet, it couldn’t be farther at this moment. Alen weakly raised his arm, mana drained as he shot a paltry spike of Deathfire-laced keratin at Seith. The latter tilted his body in response, slicing the spike off with the blade in his hands. He clenched his fists, reveling in the power.
“His presence empowers me,” Seith muttered, looking at Alen. “Do you not feel it? You use his power for yourself, don’t you? The Dark One is within our presence, and he has freed us from this prison. Why do you fight us? Freedom is all we desire, and he has helped us. He has helped you.”
“I’ve helped myself, dumbass,” Alen spat, desperate for any chance to regain his magic. He eyed the percentages. Three percent. Four.
“You say this, but you use that magic as if it is yours. Do not be mistaken. He has given you this power.”
“Thagathos was the one who unlocked my affinity.”
Seith smiled as if he was looking at a misguided child. “Thagathos is dead, little mouse.”
Alen frowned, “That doesn’t make any sense,” he said. He felt the magic within him. Five percent. A bit more, and he’d have enough to cast a spell powerful enough harm the monster in front of him. A normal Deathflare Blast just didn’t cut it anymore. He had to go bigger. Stronger. Something unexpected.
“The blind are truly unable to see.”
“No shit.”
Seith seemed amused as he approached. “You really seem to have a talent for mockery.”
“It’s a two person job. I’d have to congratulate you for being so easy to make fun of,” he shot back, licking his lips. He stepped back until he was at the edge of his summon’s head. He could’ve tried to whip the summon around, but at the state his friends were in, they were at risk of falling off. Alen’s thoughts ran through his head like a book’s pages being flicked open by the wind. His other undead? His ground summons could do nothing here. Gorebats? Too few. Most were annihilated by the fucking hands the Dark One sent out. He had no mana-filled shards left on his body, and most would have little effect.
Seith shook his head at him, waving his hands and pulling out glowing blue shackles from his storage ring. “The Dark One doesn’t wish to kill you. Having someone be able to use his mana type is a rare thing. Surrender, and your friends may leave. They are of little consequence to the Dark One’s goals.”
“Why the fuck is it so hard to get across that my answers to these questions are always going to be no?”
“It was worth a try,” Seith admitted. “Force is always an option, however.”
Seven percent. Alen shook his head at him and bent his knees, preparing himself for a confrontation. “Yeah, good luck,” he said.
“I don’t need it.”
Seth dashed. His sword stabbed out. Time seemed to slow. Alen twisted his body to the side, right foot dragging across the surface of his summon’s head to rest behind his left. Seith’s blade met air. Alen’s left fist shot out to punch, mana-charged Deathchill gathering on his knuckles. Seith knocked his arm aside, knuckles brushing past the his cheek and leaving destruction in their wake. Alen’s left arm ruptured, and spikes of glistening white bones shot out from his flesh, lathered in virulent Deathchill. Seith’s eyes constricted, black and white energy rushing out to protect his entire body. The spikes disintegrated.
Then, six bone spears pierced his chest and exited through his back, ignoring the energy wreathing his form. He looked up in shock, and met Alen’s eyes. There was a savage grin on the young man’s face, but what shocked Seith was what he saw below. Out of the necromancer’s chest, the six pikes had shot out, tearing skin and clothing in their path.
Alen had used his own ribs to conjure his attacks.
“I never could get my keratin to out-strengthen my bones,” Alen said, blood leaking from his lips. Seith coughed up blood of his own onto his chest, and Alen panted, vision blurring.
Seith looked up at him and smiled widely, blood coating his white teeth. “Now this,” he snarled, “this is impressive.” He moved forward, stabbing the spikes in deeper to come closer to Alen, who fell to his knees with a thump. Seith stared into his bloodshot eyes with a smile that reached his ears. “You remind me of when I was younger. Underneath that face you put on, there is something feral, something savage. I was mistaken to doubt the Dark One’s choices. You hunger like I do, and like a cornered animal, you are capable of scratching and biting until your claws and teeth lay shattered and broken. You are relentless. Dangerous.”
Alen stared up at him defiantly, teeth gritted as Seith systematically snapped each spike off. White hot daggers of pain shot up from his spine into his mind with each snap, but Alen remained staring. When the final snap reached his ears, his vision darkened for the quickest of moments before the light returned. Seith reached out with his hand, a manic grin on his face.
“Come,” he said. “There is a place for you in our order. Change has come, and you will have a place in it.”
A weapon flashed in the morning sunlight streaming down from above. Seith caught the Orinwood dagger by the blade, the weapon digging into his palm. Adam teleported, and he slashed down at Sieth’s shoulder with his shortsword. Seith reached back in annoyance, but four earthen arrows slammed into his body, shattering the air on impact. He stumbled back, shooting a venomous look at Lynn who was standing on a plate of ice that floated beside the flying drake. Sam reached out, controlling it. Seith extended his arm to shoot her down when an impact beat into his chest and jarred him.
Vibrations shot into his body from the fist that had sunken into his abdomen. Seith felt his organs rupture from the attack, and blood exploded out from between his lips. Air shot past him. He’d been blasted off the summon.
Alen felt something touch his lips, and a warm fluid ran down his throat right after, heat surging into his body and regenerating his wounds at a visible rate. His eyes cleared as he recognized the last of the strange potions Lynn had brought with her in the Underearth. Roland had forced him to drink it. He shot up and looked up just in time to see blue chains shoot up from below and latch around Lynn’s ankle.
It dragged her down, and then, Alen watched her disappear from view.
Alen pushed past Roland with a strength he didn’t know he had. He jumped. Spikes erupted underneath his feet and slammed into his summon’s jaw. He shot straight down.
Why? He remembered asking, months ago.
The Dark One’s arms rose up all around him, cutting him off from the rest of his party. It’s deep, goading voice echoed out from his head, but he ignored it. He didn’t care. Far below him, he saw Seith sink into one of the arms, and above Seith, a figure of white and black stared up at Alen with shock in her sapphire eyes.
Personal thing. I just hate it when I don’t pay someone back after they do something for me, y’know?
Alen straightened his body like an arrow. Screams rang out from behind him, calling his name as his summon soared up to exit the Underearth, exiting out into the open sky.
If you’re going to die trying to save me, then the least I can do is keep you company.
He reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her towards him. Her hands latched into his shoulders as they fell, shaking him.
“Why!? Are you stupid!?” Lynn screamed. Alen grinned at her and shrugged.
“I’m very much stupid, but if you’re going to die trying to save me,” Alen repeated her words, “then the least I could do is keep you company.”
Her eyes widened. Alen looked past her and stared down at the Dark One, who was getting closer and closer by the second. His true form was gigantic, easily twenty meters tall. It was humanoid, but instead of features, it looked like a void, an black emptiness in space in the shape of a person. Its voice echoed out all around them, confused.
“Do you not wish to fulfill your desires? Did you not wish to create a home? To meet your companions again? Was that not what you told me? Why choose this decision? I cannot understand.”
Alen looked down at him as they fell. “Shit happens. Don’t try to summarize what I want with what you’re saying. What I hunger for is happiness.”
“And this? This makes you happy?”
“Hell no. I’m about to fucking die. Thing is, you don’t understand a thing. If I let this happen, I’ll never reach the kind of happiness I want to achieve. I want to live without a single goddamn regret,” Alen coughed, the noise carried away by the wind. “After all, I have all those other goals, but if I let the girl I like die without doing a thing, I’ll have a regret haunting me for the rest of my life. I am absolutely, definitely, without a single fucking doubt, content, so you better fucking—“
Hands seized his collar and pulled. Alen felt something soft land on his lips. His eyes widened as he stared into Lynn’s face. Her eyes were closed, and they opened as she pulled away from the kiss. She landed a light punch into his chest as she looked away, avoiding his eyes.
“No wonder you fell for me when I did this,” she said. “Using it against me isn’t fair.”
Alen felt the grin on his face. Despite the hopelessness of the situation, warmth filled his chest. He was happy. He was content. He stared down at the City of Pillars and all of its beautiful, glimmering lights. One by one, like stars in the night sky, they went out, swallowed by the Dark One’s gloom.
“Hey, I needed you to fall for me somehow,” he said. “This was the only option I could think of.”
Lynn shot his own words back at him,
“Since we're doing it like this, I hate you,” she managed to say, before the darkness swallowed them both.
End of Book 3.