Jeevian didn’t consider himself a cold person. Many would deem his intentions as malicious, but he truly didn’t think there was anything evil to what he was doing. He would save a realm from destruction, so it was only natural to become the one who ruled it.
But at that moment, he had a thought that anyone would agree wasn’t particularly moral. As he looked at Xondir, Zhaore’s successor, he had the brief thought that the man’s death might have been fortunate.
Zhaore had been old, really old, and his power came from a time where spirit powers were viewed somewhat differently. His abilties were potent, but they weren’t balanced. There were too many flaws and shortcomings to his powers, and it was only through his tireless work at mastering them that they made him useful enough not to be discarded.
Xondir, on the other hand, was a product of much nurturing. His spirit powers had been picked carefully, meticulously, with the intent to make them as flawless as they could be. And there was no better example of this than the man’s Shadow Veil. Zhaore had had a very similar ability himself, but it had too many shortcomings.
Xondir’s power, on the other hand? It was exactly what they needed in that scenario. They felt it. Something horrible crawled out of the depths, at least as powerful as the myth golem they had lost a fight to. If not even more. It seemed to be moving with haste, something uncharacteristic of such monsters.
Thus, Jeevian had a concerning thought—what if it was after Neave Zearthorn? If the carnage they had witnessed up to that point was any indication, then Neave had been wrecking the underground, causing mass havoc. There was some possibility that this had invited the wrath of a beast that would end his and his companions’ lives.
If that happened, it would naturally not be their fault. But would the messenger see it as such? Extinguishing their lives to quell his anger was not out of the option, but it was guaranteed that he would lose the opportunity to ascend far above the ceiling of power in this realm.
Thus, he commanded Xondir to veil them and told the others to rush forth. With their cooperation in subduing their presence, not even a creature of that power would be able to sense them. And if it was heading toward the Lost Child, this was a great opportunity to capture him while he was distracted with running away from that thing.
So, they marched onwards, scurrying through the shadows as they approached their destination. The monster suddenly stopped, and the presence of five… Masters… entered their spirit senses. That was unusual. The allies the child had been with were said to be much weaker than this, or, well, they should have been. Something was strange. Kingean son was also among them.
But as they stepped into the clearing where the humanoid elder black dragon stood, facing the, not five, but six people, they witnessed something uttely unbelievable. Multiple times, the Lost Child had his entire body pulverized, only to reform it in an instant.
He stood at the black dragon’s side as if it could do nothing to truly hurt him, and even commanded his allies to fight it! What in this realm could five measly Masters do against such a monstrocity? That was the question they had asked. And the answer the received was not one they were expecting.
The weapons those five masters wielded were some of the most terrifying pieces of equipment any of them had ever seen.
A young man wielding a shield and sword rushed forward, taking the intiative to strike. The dragon struck back in its anger, but the shield in the young man’s hands bound itself to space itself in one of the most impressive defensive qi techniques they had ever witnessed.
What should have been an immense strike petered out as if it were nothing but a mortal punch, and the young man swung his sword at the bewildered monster. As it landed, the dragon was sent flying back, but before it could land, a black sword on a chain rushed forward in a blink and wrapped itself around it.
An arrow of steel slammed into the dragon’s shoulder, the mirage of a blade cut its arm off, and then the young girl rushed—
“Nice view you guys have from here, mind if I join in?” someone asked.
Jeevian whirled to find the demon child sitting on the floor right beside them, smiling as he looked at the fight. “Ah!” he yelled, pointing at the dragon. “Here comes the best part!”
Suddenly, using an immensely powerful movement technique, the young woman positioned herself above the black dragon. Her spiked ball was raised above her, and with the power of a divine snake lunging into a bite, she started swinging it down, golden runes sparking to light around her and even materializing the spirit of the creature emobodying her weapon in the form of a giant royal iron golem swinging its fist down.
Energy embodying death itself pulsed into the weapon as it struck the dragon’s head. Instanly, the creature’s entire body was disintegrated, and the strike shook the earth with such might that nobody could keep their footing stable.
“That was amazing!” Neave cheered. Then, with a vacant gaze, he turned his eyes to Carfen.
In an instant, he appeared before their companion’s back and kicked him out of their shadow veil.
“Gabrias!” he yelled. “Full force, kill the bastard!”
Their blood ran cold as they watched the man whip out a golden bow in an instant and pull its string. None of them even had the time to react. All carfen could do was watch powerlessly as a golden beam of light struck his armor. There was no great destruction. No shaking of earth this time.
The arrow traveled through his armor as if it were mere air and left through the other side, sinking into the earth never to be seen again. Carfen froze. Then, cracks began speading through his armor—the cursed bullwark that couldn’t be taken off, the symbol of his eternal servitude of the empire.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
In seconds, the armor vanished. But what lay on the other side wasn’t what they expected to see.
Dark skin. Thin, wretched limbs. The creature had a mouth full of serrated teeth and the eyes of a beast. Its head was covered in a sparse collection of bony spikes.
All this time… all these years… the person below the surface of what they knew as an ally they could trust with their very lives…. had been a demon.
***
Neave stared at the demon corpse on the ground. The dragon lady was mush. The people around him were frozen stiff, their minds uncomprehending, and his own allies were looking around frantically.
“Neave!” Marven yelled. “What is this!? Where did you go!?”
“Oh, they can’t see me, can they?” he whispered, then turned to the black-haired man who was maintaining the veil of shadows. He knew this person. In fact, he remembered him quite clearly. Thus, without hestitation, his arm stretched out and he grabbed him by the neck.
The veil collapsed and his allies immediately turned to them, spotting him holding the man’s neck. Unhesitantly, all of them turned their weapons towards the interlopers, ready to strike even with Neave in their midst. It had been a long time since any of them felt afraid that he would die from… well… anything, so they wouldn’t hesitate to attack with all their might.
“Wait!” the manly man with greying hair said, reaching an arm out. “I am Emperor Jeevian Lloude Dust, ruler of the Yixine Empire! Stay your hand.”
Neave looked at him, noddeed, then stretched him arm out and proceeded to slam the black-haired man’s head into the ground a dozen times.
“Stop!” the emperor yelled. “What are you doing!?”
“I should be asking you that, you damn rat!” he retorted. “Why are you scurrying around here with a fucking demon in your midst!?”
“D… Dukean?” someone asked.
Neave turned to face the green-haired man who starkly resembled his friend. That must be Dukean’s father, then? Things had gotten complicated.
“Marven Zearthorn!” the emperor yelled again. “Are you behind this!? What is happening here!?”
“You!” Dukean’s father suddenly whirled, pointing at the emperor. “Carfen was a demon. Did you know about this!?”
“I didn’t know…”
“Please, calm yourselves!” the pretty lady beside them yelled.
“Okay, spirit oath time!” Neave declared. “All four of you, swear upon your spirits that you aren’t involved with demons.”
“Of course we—!” Dukean’s dad tried, but Neave cut his words short with a kick to the head, sending the man tumbling into the far wall.
“No bullshit,” he said, turning to face the emperor. Before the man could pull it back, Neave grabbed his hand in a handshake and threatened, “Pull your arm back and I’ll rip it off. Now swear it.”
“I swear upon my soul,” the man rushed, bewildered at the sheer strength behind Neave’s grip, “That I have no involvement with demons!”
Then, in the next instant, he grabbed the pretty lady’s hand. “You next.”
She was sweating. That was unusual for a diamond-path cultivator, to say the least. But she opened her mouth and spoke. “I swear upon my soul that I have no involvement with demons.”
The oath went through without a hitch, although it did feel a little strange. The woman’s spirit was probably roiling due to the shock she was experiencing, so he let it go and walked over to the man he had beaten up. He was already getting up, so Neave rushed and grabbed his hand.
The man shook profusely as he muttered. “I—I—I—I… I have… N-no invo… involvement with d—d—demons whatso–ever.”
Again, it felt strange, even stranger than the other woman’s oath, but he seemed to be telling the truth. However—
“Ah!” Neave suddenly exclaimed. “I seem to have remembered something! Do you remember that time we met during the rift break?”
The man’s eyes widened. “I…”
“Tell me… What the fuck was that about?”
The man’s breating grew increasingly ragged, and he looked like he was about to faint. “I… I was just… I th—thought you–you were an invader, so I…”
“Wrong answer!” he decreed as he felt the oath break. The man’s spirit recoiled due to the lie he just said and he collapsed to his knees, struggling to breathe as his eyes bulged out of his skull. Must have been one hell of a lie if he suffered that much damage.
There was only one thing to do, he thought, as he raised his fist to—
“Stop!” the emperor yelled. “Please, stop!” he rushed forth, stepping in front of the shivering figure on the floor. “Please, my subordinate is too distressed to make spirit oaths! He is new to our ranks, and the shock of our companion being a demon is too great!” Without any shame, the man lowered his head, prostrating himself before Neave. “Please, I beg your benevolence. Spare my companion’s life!”
“Hmmm, let me think about it…” Neave mused. “No.” Then, in an instant, he appeared above the shivering man and swung an arm that had morphed into a blade right through his neck, severing it instantly.
Why would he spare him? There was no goddamn way that the thing he did during the break was benign or some sort of misunderstanding.
All that the emperor could do was watch in shock. The man knew his place, at least.
At this point, Dukean’s father dragged himself out of the hole Neave had blasted him into, wiping the blood flowing from the wound on his head. “My emperor,” he said, staring the still-kneeling man in the eye. “Do you remember the time Carfen swore the oath?”
The Emperor reluctantly nodded his head.
“That must have been a lie,” he said, eyes shot open maniacally as they turned to face the pretty lady who was still with them. “I believe he had some sort of devilish protection that allowed him to forge the spirit oath. And I think Beanna has it, too.”
The woman stared blankly at him. “You’re wrong…”
“Am I!?” the man screamed. “Am I wrong!? First Zhaore’s death, then your reaction to the messenger, then you let your favourite descendant be taken without a fight! None of that makes any sense if you’re the Beanna I know! Or, rather, the person you’re pretending to be!”
Neave watched the fight between the two people, but he kept an eye on the woman, watching her every move. Her dimension ring lit up. In the instant she was dragging an item out, he knew exactly what it was. It was the same thing Ilkivir had used in their fight, the artifact he used to escape.
Before she could pull it out and use it, he was upon her and swinging a leg at her head. Suddenly, a dark energy swirled and interscepted his strike, giving her an instant to step away. Neave wanted to press the attack, but something suddenly changed.
A horrifying, ungodly pressure descended on all the people in that room as a mirage appeared. It was faint, but it appeared to be a bleeding, descrepit creature wrapped in bloody bandages from head to toe.
“You…” it spoke in a deep, gurgly voice, as if it was choking on blood. “So… you… are… the one… we need… to slay.”