Chapter 18 – Duel by Daylight
The first thing the two combatants did was something ancient, something the first sentient beings destined for war and conflict did. They tested their opponents' capabilities. One attacked and the other defended, feeling for weaknesses in strength or techniques. It was clear to Bel from the first few blows that their strength was equal, Bel might even be a little stronger and faster, but he was sorely lacking in skill. His passive skills gave him rudimentary knowledge about using bladed weapons but he hadn’t learned to use them probably like the man before him.
Merikh had probably fought with his weapon during countless battles, honing the skill up to expert or above, Bel had no way to tell. He tried identifying the man but all he got was.
Merikh – level 32 Apostle of the Watching One (Healthy)
Identify has leveled up x2.
He didn’t know who the Watching One was but he noticed that it didn’t say anything about the inquisition or the Goddess Dawn. He wondered about that for a second before realizing that he knew too little about the system to draw a solid conclusion. A quick slice from the Apostle that almost took his ear off, before he managed to raise his shield, brought him back to the fight.
Bel focused on staying alive for now. He had a plan in the back of his mind but it hinged on several factors. The fight had been going on for several minutes now but neither combatant was panting yet. Their constitution was high enough to let them fight and exert themselves for hours now. In the dungeon Bel hadn’t fought like this, he had always drained a few opponents to let him get back his reserves, the only thing he had to contend with then was mental exhaustion.
Bel had a nagging feeling of fear and worry in his stomach but he didn’t let the emotion show on his face. He knew that the Apostle would pounce on any perceived weakness. Having no choice, he gritted his teeth and shifted to the offensive, trying to break through with pure strength and speed. What he lacked in skill he had to make up some other way.
Merikh was yet again surprised by the heretic's strength and speed, he almost couldn’t resist the blows raining down upon his shield and sword. He was thankful for his Expert Blade Skill because the enemy before him lacked finesse but made up for it with sheer tenacity. The worry he had felt before shifted and turned into a real fear of him dying. The fear was battered away for the moment by anger, righteous anger, burning within Merikh. This evil creature only deserved one thing, and that was death. To think that the Lieutenant had considered letting him go just because a Paladin asked him to. He had to make sure the man was punished when they made it back to the Capital.
A blow hit his shield so hard that his feet started sliding on the gravel and soft dirt. It gave him an opening to raise his hand and send a Holy Smite towards the creature, a white ball of energy leaving the tip of his sword. To his surprise, the enemy batted the skill away with his shield. He couldn’t escape the burning sensation of the skill completely as the pure Holy mana burned him and countered the evil coursing through his veins.
Merikh smiled wickedly as he saw the man's discomfort, it always brought him great joy in seeing sinners and evildoers hurt. The sensation was so intense it was almost sexual. Not that he would ever admit that out loud, only the other Apostles would understand him.
The smile was quickly replaced by surprise and shock as the Necromancer raised his large sword, so easily wielded in his hands, and sent a green bolt of evil toward the Apostle. Merikh raised his shield but he was too weak to shove it away, instead, he was pushed even further back by the bolt before it dissipated, the chill of its necrotic mana burning his shield-wielding arm. Merikh quickly looked above the edge of the shield and his eyes widened as several more bolts were sent his way. Merikh knew he couldn’t tank a direct hit so soon so he dodged the bolts and sliced one with his sword after infusing it with some Holy Mana. His mana skills had always been lacking but he was still a skilled combatant of the Church.
Bel frowned as the damn white cloak dodged his attacks again, damn he was good. It almost looked easy as he dodged his attacks and cleaved the last Necrotic Bolt. There was a white glow around his sword. Bel wondered if he had a similar ability to his Death Strike, not that he had any opportunity to use it yet.
Growling he started to put his plan into motion, but it hinged on being able to surprise the Inquisitor before him. He quickly threw another bolt and as soon as it left the tip of his sword he channeled a Death Strike into the sword, the two skills burned his pathways after being cast in too quick succession. The pain was nothing to Bel even if he understood that it signified something bad. By now, the pain was something constant and almost a friend to him.
Merikh dodged the bolt but the strike came too fast and he was forced to block it with his shield. He saw the dark green energy coating the blade and he instantly countered with a skill. Defiant activated and the shield was reinforced with mana. The hit caused a shockwave to erupt sending dust everywhere and clouding the two combatants from the onlookers.
When the dust settled the two fighters were locked in a tight struggle, swords against shields. The inquisitors could see a dark crack spreading across Apostle Merikh’s shield and a few gasps could be heard. The sound made Merikh flinch and the anger in his eyes renewed. Bel saw it then, it was clear in the man's eyes that he had lost face amongst his people and now even if he won that would always haunt him. He would be more dangerous now. Focusing on the skill coursing through his pathways he tried to force it to fruition without revealing that he was casting, removing the regular cast from the hands. The task was incredibly hard and he was doubly affected by having to fight and conceal his doing as well. He hoped that this would work, Bel thought as he ducked under a heavy slash.
Meanwhile, on the edge of the battle, a mesmerized Devon and his party looked on in awe.
“Did you see that? He cast two skills in quick succession. He must have trained his mana control well during his run. Also, the skills he is using, he’s combining what I think are Mage Skills with Warrior Skills and he has minions which is a Summoner skill. How many paths does this man walk?” Korgan was narrating and commenting on everything as he usually did at the colosseums or fights that they had observed. The Dwarf was a connoisseur of fights and cataloging others' skills and capabilities, he was almost salivating at seeing these two monsters fight.
“I saw. He must've trained and learned a lot down there. But I wonder how and by whom he got these skills. He has quite clearly suffered a lot, I can feel the pain emanating from his soul from here.” Liara said to the Dwarf in a loud whisper.
Devon looked at her with sympathy. Her empathic senses always made her soft against the people they fought, but now she sounded so sorrowful that the others reacted, the pity in their hearts growing for this tormented soul.
“He’s really good, he’s even giving that damn Pain Priest a run for his money. Also, did you notice how cute he was? Like a chiseled Worenian from the north.” Morgana's tone was a bit husky and this time everyone looked at her, both with mirth and condemnation.
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“Don’t call an Apostle that, do you know how much trouble you could get in if someone heard you?” Liara admonished the lithe woman.
“It’s true still, he really is good, and perhaps handsome by your delicate human standards.” The dwarf chuckled.
"Be that as it may, he is still a heretic and we need to support the church in this endeavor, that means we help the Watching One's right hand when he asks us to.” Liara said with a frown. She was a strange individual the others always thought. An elf more attuned to Iruthel but who had forsaken her wooden God for the Goddess of Light instead, a primarily human Goddess. Rumor even had it that her affinity with Holy was sky-high.
“That is what I was doing before that... man showed up.” Devon spoke for the first time in a while. His eyes never left the fight for more than a second. The others quieted and listened to their party leader.
“I saw the confusion and fear in the man's eyes before he fell into the dungeon. I also saw the resolution and the truth in his words when he tried to end this without bloodshed. I believe he could become a great asset to us if we befriend him and make him see the truth about the God that brought him here if he hasn’t done that already.” Devon didn’t mention the dreams though, dreams of blood and smoke where he and the man before him had stood at the peak of a mountain, facing each other with weapons in hand, and the sorrow that Devon felt in the dream lingered with him now.
“I trust you boy. But this is a big risk. You’re protected by the Highest One but we’re not. If you’re wrong and something happens, it's our head that will roll first.” Korgan said to the young man before him, their eyes meeting.
“I know Korgan. But I'd rather try to save a soul now than condemn one for the actions it might take in the future. But all of this planning and what-ifs won't matter if he loses. The strangest part is, I don’t think he will though.” Devon looked back at the fight just as something happened. A slight shifting in the ground behind Merikh could be seen. Devon wasn't even surprised, this man thought outside the box and fought with unconventional means.
Two green hands appeared from the ground, launching themselves toward the legs of the Apostle. Someone in the watching group of inquisitors shouted a warning, dishonoring the Rules of Duels. But it was stupid of the Necromancer to not enforce the duel by the will of the Gods, dues eliminating the possibility of someone interfering, now they just dueled under the code of honor. A code that some people always could and would, easily break.
It hit Devon then, the man was not from here as he claimed. He probably had no idea that you could enforce a duel. The pity he felt increased again as he saw the man for what he was, lost and alone.
Bel felt a sense of triumph as he finalized the skill casting. He used Summon Lesser Undead, casting through the bottom of his soles. He sent almost his entire reserve of mana into the skill, boosting the summoned creature to the highest possible degree to allow it to affect the corporeal world, he even went over his limit and the pressure and headache increased tenfold. He could have de-summoned a few of his minions but then the plan would have been obvious to anyone watching closely.
An elite poltergeist rose from the ground behind the unsuspecting Apostle. The man's frantic and angry eyes never left Bels’. Then someone shouted from the crowd, Bel should have foreseen the intervention, why wouldn’t they warn their leader? They wanted him dead and even though this was a duel why would they not try to help in any way they could? What was honor in the face of victory anyways, Bel thought to himself.
The shout alerted Merikh to something and his honed skills warned him just as something lunged at his legs. Two grotesque and warty hands tried to grab him by the legs. Jumping sideways and backward he avoided the creature's lunge while passing over its head, his sword cleaving down and hitting the thing. The blade was infused with Holy mana and the creature's head split like a melon, dust spraying everywhere as the thing dissolved back into that sickening energy all Necrotic creatures were made of. The heretic screamed in pain, but Merikh realized the scream was too close. He had let his guard down in the surprise attack and before he managed to raise his sword again the dark blade coated in green light hit him right above his right elbow. Even with help, he was unable to stop the heretics' surprise attack.
A meaty thump could be heard and everyone went silent. Merikh's right arm lay on the ground, twitching. He looked at the stump in confusion, mouth agape. Bel was equally surprised. After his plan backfired and the backlash of losing such a powerful minion above his capacity almost knocked him unconscious, he did the only thing he could. He attacked to cover up the blood flowing from his nose, still covered by his helmet, and to hide the weakness in his knees.
The attack landed, but just barely, still, it was enough. The silence was deafening for a moment, before a chorus of screams and shouts started. The Apostle clutched his stump in confusion. Bel was too tired and in pain to pounce on the opportunity, instead he backed away, steadying himself on the Necro-Blade, waiting for someone else to attack him, even if they had made a deal. His breath was ragged and hard, his eyes never leaving the Apostle.
Devon and his party readied themselves for something explosive. The inquisition forces were in shock, their leader, a man who instilled fear in their enemies just by mention had been severely wounded. The honor of a duel was about to come to an end.
“Yield. Please.” Bel whispered. His voice startled the Apostle who looked at him in confusion.
“Yield? To someone as corrupt and vile as you? I’d rather be banished to The Deep Wilds naked and armed with a dagger. I will make sure you pay, filth. The ones you have corrupted here must unfortunately be sacrificed for the greater good. I will make sure the Triumvirate knows of your crime and the sacrifice of those here.” Merikh was slurring his words but they were clear in meaning. Bel frowned at the madman's ranting. He had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about the two people he saved.
Merikh grasped at a pendant hidden behind his chest plate. Had Bel not been as surprised and exhausted then perhaps he could have stopped the man. Bel managed to raise his sword and shield while trying to absorb as much mana as possible before whatever would happen, happened. In the back of his mind, he noticed that his regeneration was abysmal compared to what he was used to. He didn’t have a chance to think about that problem as the Apostle threw the pendant at the ground, a small black orb of glass hitting it and shattering.
A brilliant white light erupted from the orb just as Merikh activated his least-used skill, Divine Escape, teleporting away to a safe location, leaving something behind for Bel and the others to deal with.
When everyone's vision returned a collective gasp could be heard. Bel stared in fright, straight into the multiple eyes of a nightmare. A Shoggoth of limbs, mouths, and tentacles stood before him, its body wiggling in anticipation of its feast. Bel identified it without thinking.
Devourer (Elite) Level 50 – Healthy.
Identify has leveled up x5
His skill gained five levels from this one use, which made this enemy feel much more dangerous than anything he had ever faced. It didn't help that the thing was twice his level, an Elite, and it awoke fear in his heart just by looking at it. Its body seemed to be made from darkness, only the mouths showing against the black backdrop of its body. The thing was made up of pseudopods full of spiked tentacles, and its eyes seemed to be everywhere on its body, all of them different sizes and shapes, all filled with malevolence and hunger. No legs could be seen and the thing seemed to roll on the ground.
The thing rippled and Bel wondered what it was waiting for when suddenly three tentacles shoot out of it like arrows. The first going for Bel’s throat. The thing was so fast Bel almost didn’t dodge in time; the tentacle passed by so close he could smell its putrid stench. He retaliated by chopping off the appendage, but the thing didn’t even seem to notice. It was too busy munching on the poor inquisitor hit by the second tentacle, it speared the man straight through his chest, his armor crumbling like paper, before dragging him back to be devoured.
The third tentacle hit one of Bel's werewolf minions, the thing turned to dust immediately. With a howl, Bel charged the creature as several beams of light hit it. The inquisition realized the danger they were in and so they joined him, the ancient enemy, in taking this creature down. This was an enemy of even greater proportion, for only they knew what a vile creature a Devourer was, what it was truly capable of now that it was set free. Many wondered why the Apostle had forsaken them to this horrible fate. Bel couldn't see it, but many inquisitors' devotion wavered in the face of this great evil.
But at least for once, Bel wasn’t fighting alone he thought. He could get used to that feeling. Bel didn’t even notice the bloodthirsty smile on his face. This fight would either make him stronger or kill him, he felt that either result would be fine by him.