Benedict’s wicked grin twisted his narrow face further toward madness as he withdrew the two remaining shards he had. Why shouldn’t I? There’s no reason not to! I can’t wait to see the look on that arrogant deity’s face when they face their precious artifact warped with blight and obedient to me!
He plunged them down, and drove one into the head and the other at the bottom of the now blackish staff. More blight poured out of the tainted spell formation, and within a few minutes Witness cracked, popped, became more gnarled and crooked, and turned completely black.
Benedict grasped the misshapen, putrefied, artifact and held it aloft, inspecting it with his free hand that shook in one part fatigue and another part exhilaration. “Excellent! Excellent! The road Lord Durdanhal set lies before me! Now I too can tame a deity! Subduing them will be easy, their own tainted power will be a direct channel to wound their resilient spirit! And after that…” He patted a pouch at his hip, one specially warded and woven to contain the crystalized creature within. “I’ll only need to implant the demon designed to devour and replace what remains, and that accursed entity will be broken and subject to my will!”
The foul scent of boiled blood and rotting wood filled the basement like a thick miasma, but his well trained subordinate ignored the offensive odor as he rushed down the stairs and shouted. “Sir! It’s an emergency! All the plant life around us is rapidly withering away!”
Benedict’s eyebrows raised in alarm, then he glanced down at the staff in his hand and snorted. “Oh? Demonstrating your new powers for me? Good. Let’s see what else you can do!”
“Sir? Is the staff the cause? Are we ready to begin the operation?”
He wiped the sweat from his pallid brow, casually strode over to his concerned colleague, and lightly touched Witness to the side of his head.
“S–sir? What are you– Oh! Ah!? Agghhhhh!”
In a second, what once was a healthy human man was reduced to a burbling puddle of black tar on the floor, clothes equipment, and all left indistinguishable from the rest. Benedict clapped giddily at the hissing and sucking sound the degeneration made, and he whistled a jaunty tune as he climbed the stairs up. Oh, yes. This is excellent indeed!
#
“Raagh!”
Linus flung open the door, and rushed at the assassin’s back. He reached for his sword, only to realize too late that he’d forgotten it in his office, as he’d left in a daze and didn’t need it for long hours of paperwork.
No matter, I’ll just–Woah!
He hesitated only for a moment, and in that time, the hooded and cloaked figure spun on their heel and whipped a dagger at his head.
Decades of training and muscle memory kicked in to compensate for surprise and fatigue, allowing him to narrowly escape the worst of the blade–though the small scratch it left on his cheek as it flew past started to burn abnormally fast and extremely intensely.
Poison? Ahh! And it’s likely lethal too. Which means I’ll need to be careful, and quick.
Without thinking, he poured his mana into his fingernails and rent them vertically through the air in retaliation. It wasn’t as powerful as when it’s concentrated in his sword, but the mana blades shot out all the same and were upon the assassin in an instant.
He expected his target to dodge, or dive outright, but to his horror, they grit their teeth, ducked low, and charged straight into the bottom of the attack–the upper part of which caused Calden’s bed to rock as a banister was split and came crashing down.
Linus clicked his tongue and readied to receive the frantic charge while diverting his mana into his ring to send an emergency call for the nearest guards. I can’t risk hitting Calden again! And this one is clearly betting their life on this!I need to be careful, careful and quick!
His worry only grew as the assassin didn’t scream, shout, or even grunt. Instead the black clad man ignored his now openly bleeding shoulders and back and lunged at the Count–where he briefly caught a glimpse of a pair of dark brown bloodshot eyes.
Linus caught the dagger thrust at his heart between clapped hands. He concentrated his mana to protect himself, but the powerful toxin on the blade’s surface still ignited the nerves in his palms as he tried to twist the weapon away without being cut.
Aggh! Come. On! Move blast you! Get out from between me and the boy! Get away so I can rip you apart without hurting him!
Strangely, his opponent didn’t use much mana either, and their heavy breathing revealed their less than optimal state as well. Linus smirked, confident his stiff and weary body had enough left to outlast the attacker, only for the assassin to sweep his legs.
Out of reflex, he kicked on his way down, hit a knee, and toppled the other man. They crashed to the hard stone floor, and their bodies, damp with desperation, tangled as they fought for the dropped knife.
A left hook cracked a jaw, an elbow caught a chin, teeth came down on a clavicle, but Linus finally snatched up the blade.
And caught another in between the ribs.
Bitter blood stained his tongue with its iron taste, and he narrowed his eyes at the middle aged man beneath him. “Bloody blackguard! Y–you first!”
He drove his stolen armament into the assassin’s heart, and twisted it until the glint of malice left those dark and dreadful eyes.
Linus huffed, ripped out the poisoned dagger from his side, and pulsed mana from his hands to stem the bleeding as he clutched his wound. He diverted a little power to send another emergency alert to the guards with his ring, and tried to steady his breathing as the burning in his hands, cheek, and side only intensified.
Should’ve… never… restricted… the guards… from patrolling around his room. Wanted him… to rest… thought we were… on the attack… with Anon back… But I was… foolish. His eyelids grew heavy, and he wasn’t sure if it was from his too many days without rest, or from the assassin’s poison killing him. Tired… I’m… so tired.
His concentration slipped, and consciousness started to leave him amid a storm of memories and thoughts of his family, but before it completely abandoned him the smiling face of Calden’s mother flickered into his rapidly darkening view. He mouthed. “Marchioness…? S–sorry I… couldn’t do… more… but he’s… safe… at least.”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Her faint white phantasm smiled sympathetically, brushed away the tears trickling from the corners of his fading blue eyes, and whispered, “I know, Linus. Thank you, and rest well. Daniella is waiting for you.”, before fading away.
The guards clattered in a moment later, and filled the room. “Milord?! Count?! Wake up!”
“He’s not breathing!”
“It might not be too late! Healer! Attend him! Now!”
#
I trudged over to the broken throne and the grand monochrome anomaly that lurked behind it. It took a bit, how long I had no way of knowing, but the whole experience dredged up some seriously unpleasant memories of my time before the world’s renewal, and I found myself in a pretty sour mood by the time I arrived.
I stopped short of the throne and stared indifferently down at the charred skeleton cratered before it. Uriel identified that all his stuff had once been some pretty impressively enchanted gear, but now that it was ruined, it couldn’t even make his remains look nice. “How… disappointing.”
I snorted, and was about to step over him, when two faint, pale green flames sparked in the dark orbits of his blackened and otherwise empty skull. His mouth didn’t move, but a raspy voice issued forth, listless like someone newly awakened, and maybe just a tinge miffed. “And what gives you the right to judge? Trapped as you are, just like me. No. You’re even lesser, since all you did was follow me. Though I must say I am impressed that you survived paying your life force to get here, as I had to become a lich to endure the cost. But then, where is my amulet, and that girl? Soaria, was it? I had been counting on it to ferry me back once she’d burnt herself out, but–”
I teleported the crumbled pieces of his trinket onto his surprisingly chatty face with Shifted steps which thankfully shut him up for a moment, then stared up at the anomaly in the tantalizing peace of the terrifying quiet that followed. I didn’t know what to expect since our last encounter had been so intense, but this time I felt, ever so slightly, its voice come to me like an itch in the back of my brain. “Welcome… Home.”
My heart hit rock bottom. Oh, come on! There’s no way! This isn’t–
Before I even had a second more to digest that, let alone reply, that bloodless bag of bones started yapping away again–far more invigorated than before. “It broke?! You broke it?! How? I spent my entire life learning time essence magic! Nobody was better! Nobody could beat me! I trounced all challengers before the thought even occurred to them! Even ensured none would follow in my footsteps! I was the best! The greatest! I came here to prove it! To claim eternity as my own! I would’ve been a god! An almighty, omnipresent, god! I– What are you even looking at anyway? There’s no one else here but us!”
It took him long enough to finally notice that I wasn’t really paying attention, so I glared back down at him with all the disgust welling up from places I didn’t even know I had. “Did you put this throne here?”
“What? No. It was here when I arrived! It was obviously intended for the ruler of this place! For me! But when I sat upon it… well. I don’t entirely remember what wonders I worked next, but I found myself here in this crater when thought returned to me, as it’s clearly the more comfortable choice, so I assume it was truly spectacular!”
The longer I looked at him the more discomfort and disdain I held for him. Beyond his clear insanity and delusions, there was something else, some more instinctual part of me that hated everything that he was–as if I knew his every choice and they were all somehow awful.
Just as the urge to blast him off the cliff and into oblivion became a really enticing idea, the anomaly whispered again. “Claim it.”
My eyes moved on their own, and landed on the throne. Just as inherent as my disgust, I felt a sudden affinity for this stone seat. Like it was made for me, like this place was mine–and always had been.
Wait. Didn’t he just say that sitting there was a bad idea?
I frowned, and the skeleton managed a sneer, if only in his voice. “What? Don’t even think about it! That’s mine! I earned it through centuries of tireless effort! I won it by being the best! By treading here, where only the Creator has stood before! It was empty! God left his throne empty! I deserve to take it! Me!” He cleared his literally empty throat. “Just… Uh. Give me a bit to pull myself back together. Time is nonexistent here, so it won’t matter how long it takes, I’ll manage! Hrrgh! Haah! Hunnn! Hoo. This… this is harder than I remember… .”
I turned back to face the desolation that I thought I’d left behind taking it in in a way I hadn’t for a very long time. How long have I wandered the wastes? If what that lich said is true, was it even a second? Is this place even the same as the old Earth? Does it even matter? If I sit, will I have to stay? And why is he so insistent that this is the throne of God? As if this forlorn place is worthy of containing such a thing!
The anomaly scratched the back of my mind. “Sit. Learn. Grow. Go.”
And what does any of that even mean? If I sit, I’ll learn something, which will cause me to grow, and then I can go? I guess that addresses one of my worries, but what about him? I didn’t turn around, but focused on the blackened pile of bones so intensely that I could’ve sworn I saw him shudder. Why do I hate him so much? Why do I feel like he’s done some pretty unspeakable things? I remember Uriel related that time essence magic is basically considered a joke nowadays, so was that his fault? And if he’s as capable as he claims, then shouldn’t I do something about him first?
The boney bugger obviously couldn’t gulp, but if he could’ve, he would’ve. “Uh–uh… Why are you looking at me like that? Just… yeah! Just get out of here! Begone peasant! You are unworthy of this place, this throne, and my clearly sublime personage so I hitherto banish you from this place! Now get!”
I rolled my eyes. I kinda want to sit on the throne now just to see his reaction. Or should I try smiting him? Maybe I should interrogate him first? If only to figure out how he learned about this place. I’m definitely doing them all, but the order is what counts here.
#
Soara shuddered and slumped against the cold stone corner of the cell Silvia threw her into before spinning on her heel and soaring back out of the castle again.
She crossed her arms and rubbed her good hand and broken wrist on her shoulders to try to stave off the intense chill that gnawed on her bones. Strange. Why did that girl disobey her master’s orders? Did they call for her? Did something happen? Yes. Benedict must’ve had eyes on our situation. He’s started his subjugation ritual, or whatever he called it.
The two knights who let them into the castle remained on guard outside her cell, based on their tame reactions to Silvia’s abrupt arrival and abrasive explanation, their lord, or a close aid, must’ve had the foresight to inform them to expect as much beforehand.
Just to be certain, she checked all her pouches and pockets, but as she feared, all her tools, weapons, and supplies were gone. She let out a low, barely audible, “Heh.”, and scanned the other cells with her night vision. Most were empty, though the nearest one held the slumped shadow of Thread.
She knew the knights would never let her speak freely to him, and though she thought to try tapping a code to him, a second glance revealed that same defeated look that Whisper had during her rescue mission. Curses. A thousand curses on that Anon. They might be disposable, I might have used him as bait, but only I get to decide when to throw them away. He could’ve helped me escape!
She ground her teeth, furious at Thread for breaking, Anon for thwarting her, Silvia for the pain in her shattered wrist and bruised body, the region for its unreasonably cold nights, and herself for not adapting fast enough and coming out on top.
I knew this would be dangerous. But I never thought I would fail. Not with that amulet. I’ve never not had time to use it… Until now.
She slowly scraped her nails across the cold cobble of the floor, each quietly gouging a fine trail across the dark surface. Good. At least I still have my abilities. That girl’s rush prevented the knight’s from locking me up properly, and they likely know better than to enter without her around so long as I don’t force them to. So if I’m right and Benedict's confronting Anon, I should be safe to dig my way out if I’m quiet enough.