Ethan fought against himself – the contracting muscles of his Host Salamandrike forcing him to stay down under the Doctor’s command. Every vein on the emerald creature’s face pulsed with resistance, with the fierce desire to break free from the Blood Magic of its controller.

But it was in vain. Against one Spectator, he could have won. But the six that now kept their steely gazes upon him were weighing him down with the invisible pinnacles that were their shared power.

“Even with all your strength,” Haylock laughed, “you can still be tamed, it seems. Just an animal like all the rest. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

The Doctor’s words rang hollow in Ethan’s ears. He was far more preoccupied with the terrified eyes of his companions as they walked towards him, weapons raised, each one primed against their will to attack.

“E…Ethan…”

It was Fauna who spoke first, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Suddenly a spark of energy sprung from the tip of her staff, and she directed it towards Ethan with a screech of pain.

The bolt of energy transformed into an arc of lightning that struck Ethan right in his single crimson eye. He took the spell. He weathered its electrical energy.

He looked up at Fauna, smoky pillars wisping from his face to look into Fauna’s tearful eyes.

“I…I’m sorr…so…”

“Fauna,” he said. “It’s not you. It’s okay.”

“Hah!” the Doctor laughed behind his head, slapping the tentacles of his puppeteered Spectator together in a parody of clapping. “Beautiful. Look at this – pure pain and resilience. You resist me even now. Even when I have your brave little warriors turned against you.”

Ethan grit his teeth as he felt the Doctor’s grip on him tighten. The Spectators closed in around them all, their unblinking eyes bright and shining against the fires that had engulfed the forest. Around them, the bloodied limbs of the fallen Flesh Golems melted away to nothing, or were squished under the Spectator squad’s hoofed feet.

And as though the horror of this situation couldn’t have gotten any worse, Ethan saw, just as his companions did, just what the Golems were composed of – the stitched-together remains of…

“Hybrids,” the Doctor slurped, savoring every word. “That’s right. Your kind are just so malleable. So versatile. Such genetic variation among your species that I cannot help but find you fascinating. Far more so than my own kind. I am in agreement with you, don’t you know? Your kind should not be eradicated from this world. You are a vital resource, my darling creatures. And you will be mine.”

Ethan saw the burning rage that dominated his friends’ eyes as the stalked forward, and Tara, screaming in resistance, plunged her dagger into Ethan’s three taloned hand.

He winced, but he didn’t scream. He wouldn’t give this madman the satisfaction.

Ethan! Sys wailed. E-Ethan! Can you…can you hear…me?

Ethan could, but his mind wavered. The Doctor’s hold on his body was complete. He searched his thoughts, trying to find the way to communicate with Sys, but no thoughts came. Nothing came at all except the blinding hatred he felt in this moment. The hatred that was turning his world red with rage again…

Then he heard the squelching lips of the Doctor’s creature beside his ear, tongue licking at his hatty form and slavoring over every word it spoke:

“I know what it is you want, dear Archon,” he said. “And I shall give it to you – you, and all those who serve you.”

Ethan felt Klax’s foot pin down his other hand as the wolfman tried clawing at himself to stop his puppeteered body. In vain.

“Look at them,” the Doctor spat. “I can feel it, you know – their weaknesses. The traumas they all carry with them, like weights that slow them down. That slow you down. I wonder, Archon…Ethan…why do you journey with them? Why do you let them make you weak?”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Lamphrey’s shaking legs staggered up to Ethan, her staff aiming at his face. Scintillating green energy twirled at its gnarled tip. In her eyes was total focus.

“Though this one…this one is very elusive, indeed…I will enjoy peeling its scales apart.”

The staff began to glow brighter.

“In any case, after you tell me the location of your Sanctum, I will craft something miraculous out of you. You shall all be Gods, my sweet Archon. You shall be a thing of beauty, a symbol of perfect genetic unity. As you should be.”

Ethan smirked, knowing that the Doctor could see him do it.

The Spectator troop edged forward. Ethan sensed confusion. And intrigue.

“You…got your own weaknesses…Doctor…”

The head Spectator seemed, by all accounts, thoroughly entertained by this statement.

“Oh?” he chuckled. “Do tell…”

Ethan looked passed Lamphrey’s burning staff to her eyes, and nodded once.

Because he’d just heard her voice. He’d heard what she’d said. And he concurred.

“One: you’re greedy.”

“I admit, I do get rather obsessive when I find something as interesting as you.”

“And two,” Ethan spat. “You can’t control a bloodless being.”

Ethan’s smirk widened into a grimace of triumph as he mustered what little magical energy he had left and summoned a Shadow Wraith from the abyss. The creature materialized behind the Doctor’s lead Spectator—a tall, ethereal form of shadowy tendrils and burning, hollow eyes. It moved with the speed of a striking serpent, its elongated blade-arm driving straight through the Spectator’s bulbous, central eye.

The Spectator let out a deafening screech, a sound that was both mechanical and organic, as its body collapsed under its own weight. Its glowing appendages flickered and died, and with it, the Doctor’s blood magic control shattered like glass.

Ethan watched as Tara stumbled back, her dagger falling from her trembling hand. Klax’s claws retracted as he sagged to his knees, his fur matted with sweat. Fauna dropped her staff, shaking her head in disbelief, and Lamphrey, her gnarled weapon glowing dimly, straightened with a gasp, clutching her chest as though her very soul had been freed.

The Doctor’s laugh echoed hollowly through the battlefield. “Well played, Archon,” he mused, though there was an edge of panic to his voice. “But you’re still outnumbered. And you’re still weak.”

Ethan didn’t respond. Instead, he activated his Mana Veil, spreading a shroud of darkness across the entire battlefield. It seeped through the cracks in the earth, curling around the shattered trees and the corpses of fallen Flesh Golems. The arena became an abyssal void, blinding the remaining Spectators.

“No… no!” the Doctor’s voice wavered, his confidence giving way to desperation. “Find him! Stop him! Now!”

But the Spectators flailed blindly in the darkness, their hoofed feet stumbling over broken limbs and smoldering ash. Then came the first silver slash. A glimmering arc of light that cut clean through a Spectator’s frame, severing its many legs.

Another slash followed. And another.

Each strike came with brutal precision, accompanied by the sickening sound of alien flesh being cleaved. Ethan’s figure was a specter in the darkness, Greybane gleaming with spectral light as he moved like a wraith among the monsters. He was relentless, his strikes fueled by rage and the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

The Spectators’ screams echoed through the blackened arena, but one by one, they fell. By the time Ethan reached the Doctor’s lead Spectator, the rest of the monstrosities lay in lifeless heaps, their unblinking eyes dimmed forever.

The Doctor’s Spectator staggered back, its long limbs twitching in a futile attempt to shield itself. Ethan approached, his breathing ragged but his grip on Greybane steady.

The sight of the Spectator’s smiling face was enough to drive him forward, fueled by total rage.

He lunged, driving Greybane straight through the Spectator’s massive, unblinking eye. The blade pierced the creature’s core, and its body convulsed violently before collapsing into a heap of ichor and writhing tendrils.

The Doctor’s voice faltered, his confidence replaced by a hoarse rasp. “Good… very good indeed…”

Ethan stood atop the dying Spectator, his chest heaving as he pointed Greybane downward, the blade glinting in the faint light of the Mana Veil. “Remember this,” he growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble. “Remember this sight. Remember this feeling. Because I’m coming for you.”

The Doctor’s laughter faded into a strangled whisper. “Good…good…”

With one final shudder, the Spectator fell still, its grotesque body dissolving into the blackened ground beneath Ethan’s feet.

The battlefield fell silent, save for the distant crackle of flames and the patter of raindrops beginning to fall from the heavens. Ethan turned to see his companions collapsed around him, their bodies limp and battered but alive.

“Guys…” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the rain. He staggered towards them, his limbs heavy and his vision swimming. The energy drained from his body, and he collapsed to his knees beside Klax, who groaned weakly but didn’t stir.

The rain intensified, washing away the blood and ash from the ground. Ethan’s head tilted back, his crimson eye-catching glimpses of the ruined canopy above. For a moment, he swore he saw the broken branches moving, curling towards him and his companions like protective arms.

“Not… now…” he murmured, his strength fading completely.

The last thing Ethan saw before darkness claimed him was the faint glimmer of light breaking through the storm clouds above.