High in the air, Ezekiel’s convoy flew. Their speed was so fast that they couldn’t even see the ground moving beneath them. Shine was glowing brightly with shifting lights but was primarily pure white in their brilliance.
“Ezekiel! Talk to me! What’s going on?” Riley was holding herself in the air within Ezekiel’s Domain. One hand was holding onto her weapon, and the other was holding onto Ezekiel’s arm.
She and the other Legendary Hunters had equipped their Spirit Armor and gotten themselves ready for battle. However, since Ezekiel hadn’t told them anything, they were unable to do anything other than worry about their destination.
Ezekiel took a moment, breaking his focus to address Riley.
“When I exited the [Closed Space] that Shine created, I was struck by a vision of something important. They very rarely happen, only when the world itself needs me to do something does it strike me that hard.” His voice was low, and there was an angry growl that filled it. “Usually, I have to consciously seek out visions, especially when they happen so far away from me.”
While he was speaking, Shine readied another [Sling] spell to keep them moving. While it would drain them both, they couldn’t afford to hold back at this time. The needed to get to the border of the Desolate Lands today.
“What did you see?” Riley asked, seemingly uncaring of the abilities that he had just revealed. “What could be so significant to the entire world that you would be brought to your knees from the impact?”
Ezekiel was quiet for a moment. His jaw was tense, and he grit his teeth as the memory of the vision, still fresh in his mind, flashed before his eyes once more.
“The death of a Mythical being...”
While he had kept his voice low and hadn't done anything to ensure that he was heard by anyone else, the fact that several Hunters flinched in shock was enough for him to know that they had heard him. Those that had been in the Prime Guild immediately spread the news to their fellow Guild members.
“...Was it Wolken...?” Riley asked, her tone filled with disbelief and fear.
Ezekiel merely nodded his head, and muttering broke out between the other Hunters. But he didn’t bother paying attention to it.
“If Shine and I both burn out mana, and put ourselves to the limits, we should be able to get there in time. We won’t be able to help him fight, but we’ll be able to get him out of there.” Ezekiel pulled his waterskin filled with Ichor out once more. “If we use the last of the bombs I have, we’ll be able to wipe out the forces they dedicated to pushing into Wolken’s territory as well. But we’ll more-or-less be out of the fight once that happens.”
The flying [Domain] shifted, and those that weren’t Legendary Hunters stumbled on the non-existent ground as Shine used his magic to [Sling] them once again. The decelerating sphere that held the convoy flashed with blurry images of the Fungal Forest below. Though it was much less densely filled with life than before.
“Just because your fatigue is gone, doesn’t mean that your soul has recovered from the strain of downing that shit on a constant basis for several days.” Riley nearly pulled the waterskin away from Ezekiel, but he jerked it back before she could grab it.
“If Wolken dies, there will be a hole in the border that I won’t be able to fill. That means that the Cruor will have basically a straight shot to the Temple of the Void.’ Ezekiel glared at Riley for the first time in years. It was so out of character that she recoiled in shock. “If that happens, then my contract will do far worse than sever my bond with Shine. I can’t afford to hold back at this point.”
Taking a swig from the waterskin, he felt the familiar pressure on his soul as he crushed the lingering [Will] that was infused into the Ichor. The burn that accompanied his mana being refilled was new, but a side-effect that he would have to accept. At least until his soul could truly recover.
‘We’ll get there in time.’ Shine’s attempt to relieve Ezekiel’s worries was met with a smile. But it was one that didn’t quite reach their partner’s eyes.
‘I know we will...’ Ezekiel replied, 'I'm just worried about whether or not, ‘on time’ will be good enough.’
Feeling the burn once more as his mana refilled while it was drained for his spells, Ezekiel readied himself for the conflict he was about to enter.
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The sky was filled with an assortment of broken weaponry. Shards of steel were thrown about by twisting winds at gale force speeds. The ground was ripped up, and massive rents filled the region.
At the same time, jagged gouges in the earth, formed by the massive fangs and claws of the Broodlord that Wolken fought, crossed the land in a manner that was similar, but still different.
“Is that all you have, little Exalt?” Rafael asked in an almost idle manner, at the same time bringing his clawed arm, wider than a house, down on Wolken’s form.
The downed Exalt was quick to recover. A blast of wind threw him out of the way of Rafael’s attack. He flipped through the air, landing on an upturned three that hadn’t yet been turned into wood chips.
“I have more than enough to keep you from moving any further forward!” Wolken shouted over his
Tempest as a construct, just as large as Rafael, took shape around him. “I wonder, how badly did you suffer to obtain this power from your master? I know you didn’t earn it, none of you bastards ever earned your power.”
Hardened air formed a hammer that slammed into Rafael’s side. The force was partially absorbed by the Broodlord’s mana eating mouths, but he was still sent tumbling backward from the force.
“Just because you were born as one of those blessed by the Ancients doesn’t mean that your power is any better than my own.” Rafael rolled out of the way, standing back up and leaping for Wolken’s figure, even though it was still protected by the wind. “You judge me for the choices made in the past, yet you have fought with that blasted Cult! How can you say that a Void Mage from my time chose wrongly, simply for wanting to get back at a world that had renounced them since birth!?”
This time, Wolken didn’t have anything to say. Even he hadn’t been totally supportive of Void Mages prior to Ezekiel’s discoveries. He considered them an eyesore at worst, and an extra set of hands at best. Not that it ever affected the way he treated them.
It was just hard for a world so focused on the use of magic to appreciate the people that couldn’t.
“Seeking power isn’t wrong, but there are right and wrong ways to do so.” Wolken formed a gray spear from the air that he swung at Rafael’s head. “And bringing about the suffering of others, even those that were not involved in hurting you, will always be wrong.”
Rafael shifted; a massive maw opened on his shoulder. It caught Wolken’s wing spear inside it, clamping down and nearly causing the spell to shatter.
“Big words for one who hasn’t suffered near as much as I have!” Rafael released a roar from a mouth that formed on his chest. The compressed air and force of the soundwaves coming out of it forced Wolken backward. It was too much for him to take control of to defend himself.
“The world is different! Void Mages are accepted, far more than ever before! You are the ones that sold your souls! Stop forcing others to pay for it! The ones that hurt you are dead and gone!” Wolken dispelled part of his giant construct to avoid Rafael’s follow up attack at his legs. “Not that it would matter, even if you didn’t want to wage this war, your masters would simply find another puppet for them to control instead.”
Rafael frowned at Wolken’s words. The Tempest Hunter smiled. Happy to have finally struck a nerve after yelling back and forth at each other.
“It seems I struck a nerve. Upset that I am free to fight as I wish, but you are forced to do so at someone else’s whims?” A bloody grin spread across Wolken’s face. It was mocking, and his half-lidded glare showed just how much contempt he had for the Broodlord.
“...At least the ancient being that granted me power is around to support me. Where are your Ancients? Why did they abandon you?” Rafael’s voice was quieter, though still loud enough to be heard over the maelstrom that had formed around the two combatants. “Perhaps it wasn’t the Cruor that were abandoned by the world after all.”
Wolken snorted and spat to the side. “The Ancients locked you away millennia ago. You lost, accept your defeat and roll over already.”
Rearing back once more, Wolken had realized that a battle of attrition and exchanging blows would tire him out far faster than it would the Broodlord in front of him.
So instead, he channeled more mana than he had ever used in a single spell before. It would leave him enough to keep fighting, but only barely.
“As entertaining as this talk has been. It’s time we finish this.” Whipping his arm forward, Wolken released the condensed mana as he threw the slowly forming spinning ball of razor-sharp winds forward. “Today is the day, that a Mythical being dies once more!”
It was a spell that was built upon the [Understandings] that his Spirit had gained over the past several years of war. Stronger than the solid air constructs that he usually used, this attack had not been used before, due to the sheer devastation that it brough when it was cast with far less mana than this.
The spell had also only been possible for him to use after his Spirit had managed to break through once more. Something that had come as a surprise but was ultimately the only reason he could currently match the original Broodlord in front of him.
“Hah! That looks tasty!” The jaws in Rafael’s torso merged to form one massive mouth with fangs that began shaking back and forth. A buzzing whine filled the air as a sucking force drew in Wolken’s attack. “You’re not the only one with new tricks!”
Wolken watched with a stoic glare as his attack was pulled toward Rafael’s chest. Holding up one hand, he waited until it had passed into the Broodlord’s body.
With a snap of his fingers, the compressed ball of air exploded outward, and Rafael screamed in pain as his body was covered in cuts and gashes from the wind that shredded him apart.
The razor-sharp sphere of wind expanded to cover his entire body, and it lasted for several seconds before it faded away.
While it hadn’t been enough to kill him, Rafael crumpled to the ground. His wounds slowly knit themselves closed, but it wasn’t nearly as fast as the regeneration from the earlier stages of their battle.
Descending from where he stood, several hundred feet in the air, Wolken raised his hand. Ready to lay down the killing blow. His senses were still spread out, just in case there was a surprise from the Desolate Lands, but from what he could tell, there were no surprises coming for him.
This was it. A Mythical being was about to die, for the first time in over half a decade.
“Die,” Wolken said, his voice level and easily heard over the slowly dying storm that surrounded him and the fallen Broodlord.
The blade of wind fell on Rafael, ready to take off the head of the massive body.
Only for the Ichor that was still flowing freely from his wounds to shine brightly.
In an instant, the massive, semi-primal, body of the Fanged King shrank down to a human sized form. One free of any wounds, and with legs coiled and tensed. A fanged grin split his face as he launched himself at Wolken’s neck.
The sound barrier broke, and the hastily formed barrier that the Tempest Exalt tried to bring up was torn apart like tissue paper.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
A second later, three loud ‘thumps’ could be heard.
One was Rafael, who landed with a mouth full of blood, several meters behind where Wolken had been floating.
The second was Wolken, who fell from the air due to the impact of the attack that he had narrowly avoided being fatally injured by.
The third was Wolken’s arm, which had been severed at the shoulder, and was covered in Ichor.
“I hate doing that,” Rafael said with a muffled voice, his posture was slumped, and his breathing was heavy. Exhaustion seemed to ooze from every part of his body. “The aftereffects I’ll suffer from later are always frustrating.”
Spitting out the meat in his mouth from the chunk of meat he had torn out of Wolken’s shoulder, he turned to approach the barely conscious Exalt. “You see, the thing about a Broodlord’s battle form is that, unlike our Primal Forms, they take a great deal of Ichor to maintain. However, if you train well enough with it, you can reabsorb the Ichor that it spent keeping your in such a state. So far, only I and the other original Broodlords have achieved this. But it’s good enough to deal with Exalts like you, who have surpassed the first Step of Tier five due to your Spirit’s progress.”
Wolken didn’t reply. Instead, he coughed up a mouthful of blood that was disturbingly iridescent and oily. The veins in his neck were changing color from the Ichor that was now freely flowing into him. Injected by the fangs of the Broodlord that was nearing him.
“Tricky bastard...” he coughed again, this time falling over as he tried to stand.
The searing pain of the Ichor that was slowly eating him from the inside out was enough to keep him down. If he had even half as much mana as he did before he’d used his final spell, he’d be able to fight off most of the corruption. But with how drained he was, there was nothing he could do.
Looking to his missing arm, he saw that it had become nothing more than a warped and twisted lump of tumorous meat. There would be no salvaging it at this point.
A foot on his back pinned him down.
“The words of the defeated mean nothing.” Rafael raised an arm into the air, the claws on his hand extended outward, sharpening into jagged blades that were more like swords than daggers due to their length. “Though, you were right before. Today is indeed the day a Mythical being dies!”
Pulling his arm back, Rafael tensed up before swinging his arm down as fast as he could. There was a brief flash of light, as Wolken’s Spirit dispersed his Spirit Armor, intent on taking the blow as they materialized on the Exalt’s back.
But the blow never landed, since a ball of [Force] appeared out of nowhere, and sent the Fanged Lord flying into the distance.
A second later, the fallen Exalt and his injured Spirit disappeared.
All that remained was the rage filled roar of the Fanged King.
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Several minutes, and several hundred kilometers away, a sphere of mana passed through the sky, too fast for most beings to see, but not hidden beneath a [Shroud] as it once was.
There was a flurry of activity as the Hunters that followed Ezekiel fretted over Wolken’s fallen form. Ezekiel was also on his last legs, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he could tell that Rafael’s Ichor was nearly barren, he knew that they’d be in a lot more trouble than they were.
Although Ezekiel didn’t believe that Rafael would be chasing them anytime soon. Not only did the Broodlord need to recover from the hidden injuries that wouldn’t have healed from that trick he pulled, but he would need to go and reinforce his hold on his territory. Else the push and loss of numbers from the ongoing battles would leave him open to attack by a combined force of Exalts.
“How is he?” Ezekiel asked, his voice was a mere whisper as sweat dripped down his body from the stress that it was under.
George was glowing with verdant light, as were several other Life Mages, with a Few Death Mages checking on Wolken’s soul. Several Glacial Mages also acted, using their magic to do everything they could to support the specialists they were working with.
“His soul seems fine, but his body has suffered severe degradation from the Ichor the Fanged King injected him with,” one of the Death Mages replied.
“Shine, help him.”
A flicker of pure white light shot out from Shine, touching Wolken’s body and sinking into it. Immediately, all the mana that was still inside the Tempest Exalt’s body was erased, but so was the Ichor.
“That’s the best I can do. My [Understanding] of [Nothingness] isn’t as finely tuned as yours is.” The Void Spirit then went back to supporting Ezekiel as they continued moving toward the back lines of the Human forces.
“It’s good enough. Now we can begin helping him recover.” George and the other Life Mages placed their hands directly on Wolken’s form.
This action got them an angry hiss from Wolken’s Spirit, but Ezekiel turned back and glared at the winged snake. The fact that it was so drained of mana meant that it stood just a bit below Ezekiel in power at that moment. So, it reluctantly backed down.
Suddenly, the world around Ezekiel’s [Domain] slowed down, and the blurry mess took shape once more. To reveal two armies clashing with one another in a massive battle.
“Holy shit...” one of the Hunters couldn't help but exclaim, the sight before them being one that no one, not even Ezekiel, had seen before.
“They must’ve... gathered all the... Hunters in the south...” Ezekiel’s voice was coming out in tired gasps. Riley rushed to his side to help him stay upright. “Are the bombs ready?”
“Yes, but we can’t be sure that we won’t hit the human forces too.”
This had been a concern that they had discussed before, but Ezekiel had just waved it off.
“Just get them as deep... into the Cruor groups... as possible...”
Riley looked back at Fiana, who nodded her head in acceptance.
“Artillery, set!” The Hunters with ranged propulsion spells readied themselves. “Launch!”
With that one command, Ezekiel shifted his [Domain] to allow the explosives to pass through without issue. The bombs filled with his mana and [Will] rapidly fell toward the largest groups of Cruor.
For several seconds, there was silence.
Then, there was light and sound and destruction, as several dozen [Void Magic] explosives went off at once. These ones weren’t altered to inflict elemental damage. They had left the Fungal Forest, and the current landscape was too barren to make a wildfire worth spreading.
Instead, it was purely magical force that shook, pushed, pulled, and tore apart the Cruor that were caught up in the explosion. It was barely enough to cause some discomfort to the Legendaries, unless they were directly in the blast radius.
For a Mythic, it would only have been enough to knock them on their ass.
But much of this army was composed of Adepts and below, as was the Human one. The difference being that the [Will] Ezekiel had long since infused into these bombs was given two objectives.
Harm the Cruor and help humanity and the Spirits.
With that in mind, Ezekiel smiled as the explosions seemingly passed over the Hunters, Mages, and Spirits in the human army with little effect. It would still harm Apprentices, but only due to the physical force that would send them flying.
The effects of the spell on their magic and soul would be negligible.
For the Cruor, the Adepts and Apprentice levels disintegrated if they were too close to the explosions. While the Legendaries were thrown about far more viciously than their human equals.
“Rise up! Fight! Take them down!”
Using a small dreg of mana, Ezekiel made sure that his words were heard across the battlefield. Uplifting the humans and Spirits, and the remaining Cruor were set upon by a tsunami of human spellcasters.
Unfortunately, Ezekiel knew that he wouldn’t be able to celebrate this sudden windfall. Especially not when Shine had just used up the last of their mana and had gone from Ezekiel’s hands to the sheath on his back.
“Riley... Everyone...” A wave of fatigue passed over him while the others turned toward him, his vision going dark, “Catch.”
With that, he finally lost consciousness, less than half a day after he had woken up from his first serious bout of rest.
His last thought was that he hoped that the others could get them back and into safety before the Broodlords regrouped.
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Elsewhere, hours later, behind the Cruor’s battle lines, and deep within the Desolate Lands, Rafael sat upon a throne of flesh and bone. Tendrils had dug into his body, and pools of Ichor that laid about on the ground around the dilapidated castle he had retreated to flowed into him.
His body was covered in wounds, and he stood nearly double the height of a normal adult human man. Larger than he had been when he had attempted to land the final blow against Wolken, nowhere near as large as his hundred-foot-tall battle form.
His breathing was calm and steady, yet every now and then he would wince, and the muscles near the wounds that hadn’t healed would wriggle and pull together.
“Damned Herald! The war will be delayed for months now.” His muttering was heard only by the few Cruor attendants that remained in his castle. “What news is there from the front lines?”
With quivering steps, a Tier three Cruor approached and knelt before recounting the events that had occurred, just minutes after Wolken had been taken away from the battle with Rafael.
“So, what you are telling me, is that the efforts I went through, and the forbidden skill I used, were worthless!” Clenching his hand, he broke off a chunk of bone from the temporary throne he was sitting on and threw it at the Adept.
A wet ‘splat’ filled the room, as the small bone boulder crushed the Cruor before they could get out of the way.
The others in the room started shaking much more violently as their fear grew exponentially.
For a few seconds, Rafael breathed much more deeply, to calm himself down. He then slumped into his throne after a few seconds.
“Leave me. I must inform the other Lords of what has happened.”
The was a quiet scurry as the Cruor and Umbral Beasts in the room fled as fast as they could.
Once everyone was gone, the Fanged King raised a hand. Ichor flowed from some of the surrounding pools and took shape in front of him. A circle with Runic markings, utterly alien to the ones used by humans, took shape, and a new pool formed in front of his throne.
Several Tendrils reached out and sank into his arm. Similarly to the ones that were jabbed into his back and limbs, but these ones glowed with Iridescent light.
They pulsed; once, twice, several dozen more times, before shapes took form around the circle.
Not all of the Broodlords were present, since this was an emergency meeting, only those that had practical access to their communications would be able to attend.
“... You’re looking worse for wear.” Rafael let out a grunt and rolled his eyes at Tryskan’s words.
“The Herald had a breakthrough. Him, or his Spirit. The crosses what must’ve been close to half the Fungal Forest, and the outer regions past that, in barely half a day.” The other Broodlords’ jaws dropped in shock. That was not a minor distance. “He got Wolken away before I could deal the finishing blow. I even shifted into my minor form to restrain my injuries so I could catch him by surprise. Hence the wounds that are still healing.”
Tryskan and the others nodded in understanding. While mana induced injuries were annoying to heal from, since they literally ate mana that had been converted to Ichor, such injuries should’ve healed quickly.
“... I think I might have some insight on what the Herald has gained...” Serin spoke up next, and the Broodlords turned toward her.
“Why does knowing the specifics of the Herald’s breakthrough matter?” Kereena asked while Derrick and Christopher nodded along. “It won’t matter until he has at least two more. He needs to have at least five Steps worth of Void mana to do what we want. With this breakthrough, he would only be Step three at best.”
Rafael grimaced at the thought. Now that they had begun focusing on the plan to use Ezekiel for their goals, the actual power that it would take to bring him in was horrifying.
While more powerful, individually, than the majority of the Exalts, particularly the old generation’s Hunters, who couldn't proceed past Step one, relying on their Spirits to advance, that didn’t mean that they could match a Step five Exalt at this time.
Tryskan, Jillian, and himself were the oldest of the Broodlords, and they were merely at the third Step of Tier five. The others were at Step two, and that had put a strain on the younger ones, who had forcibly enhanced themselves with the Broods’ aid.
This didn’t account for Drake, whose power Rafael couldn’t measure, but was limited in other ways. Without the Chaos Lord’s help, it would take at least three of them to take down Ezekiel, while also keeping him alive to get him to do as they wanted.
“Actually, it was only estimated that the Herald would need to be Step five to have the power to break the seal. That doesn’t take into account spells and magic specifically designed to create specially [Closed Spaces] that none can get in or out of.” Serin’s words were like a balm on Rafael’s soul, and a wide, toothy, grin spread across his face.
The other Broodlords also smiled at the thought of not having to wait several more decades before Ezekiel would be ready to fulfill their goals. Even Drake, whose amorphous blob form rarely changed, shifted into an upturned smile.
“You’re sure of this? You can confirm that the Herald has acquired the correct [Understanding] needed to make the estimated mana cost irrelevant?” Rafael’s words held the others back, but Serin’s nod kept them happy. “What did he do? I trust you wouldn’t be stupid enough to give us false hope, but we need to know what we’re dealing with.”
“I cannot confirm exactly what he did, but I can confirm the effect of what he did on the area that he did it. A similar dead zone appeared in the Fungal Forest.” Elation filled Rafael’s heart upon hearing Serin’s words. “The Ichor in the Rot nearby was inexplicably drawn to it and went wild after reaching a certain point. It was only earlier today that I was able to personally investigate this phenomenon, the fires had finally been put out, and I sacrificed a finger to check it.”
Serin held up a hand, which was distinctly missing a finger. One that she hadn’t been able to grow back. Something that Rafael and the others could tell from the feeling that her body gave off through the link that made this meeting possible.
“Will there be long lasting consequences of the seal being in the Forest.” Kereena asked, though Rafael could tell that she didn’t care that much. Though it was still a valid concern.
Serin shook her head. “No. After several hours, the effects faded away. If I hadn’t been alerted, and gone there when I did, I would’ve missed it, and we wouldn’t have learned that he could make such spaces. Since he was inside it, and left so suddenly, I doubt he even knows that the traces even existed.”
“Good. It wouldn’t be good for us to have our new target know what he was truly capable of.” Rafael nearly let out a bark of laughter at Tryskan’s concerns.
“It doesn’t matter. Once I am recovered, we shall begin our assault. The battle lines and borders no longer matter. So long as we can get the Herald into the central regions, we win.” Back in his throne room, Rafael waved a hand, and several more tendrils began pumping him full of Ichor. “We need bait, but the Archipelago would be too difficult to invade.”
The Broodlords thought about it for a moment. They needed something they could use to force Ezekiel to do what they wanted, but his family on the islands wasn’t a feasible option.
It was only after several minutes of contemplation that Drake’s form shook. A silent message passed through the others, and Rafael’s smile turned into a frown.
“That will be difficult. Who will lead this mission?”
Drake shook again. Rafael’s eyes widened, and he saw that the others were in a similar state of surprise.
“If you’re able to go yourself, then none of us will stop you. But I don’t think we will be able to assist you either.”
This time, Drake seemed to shrug, and Rafael knew that his leader didn’t care.
“Then we have a plan. Within a year, we will capture Ezekiel Luminance, the Herald of the Void, and force him to free our masters, one by one.”
With those final words, the Fanged King retreated from the meeting pool. One of the others would send word to the ones that weren’t there, and more defined plans would be made in the future.
For now, however, his primary concern was to rest, and recover. So that the day when his master, and patron, was freed could arrive all the sooner.