Chapter 25 – Internal Truths
The sounds of approaching feet reached their ears. Bel and the others panicked as they looked back at the path they came from. Movement could be seen and was fast approaching. Bel looked around for somewhere to hide but they were exposed to anyone approaching from that direction.
Checking over the cart they were hidden behind, he saw that it was a simple cart with a tarp draped over several boxes. The cart had been flung to its side, but the tarp still held. He had an idea. Closing his eyes, he looked inward, and Bel formed the skill of his Death Strike within his pathways. Instead of releasing it through a weapon as proper, he sent it to his right hand. He wasn’t sure it was going to work but it did. It was painful beyond compare as the skill caused his hand to rot, the necrotic energies had nowhere to go so the effect started to affect him immediately.
Before he damaged himself further, he slowly pressed his hand like a blade into the wood of the cart. The wood rotted and melted like it was made out of wet paper. He carved a decent-sized hole in the bottom of the cart. When he was done, he released the skill and downed a potion to heal his hand. The others watched and waited in silence, a sense of urgency in the air and their bearing.
Death Strike has leveled up
The hole was big enough for them to squeeze through, but the cart was full of boxes and space was tight. The footsteps were closing in and there was not enough time to prepare the inside of the cart. He shoved Francis and then Liara inside before pushing himself inside. The tarp was stretched to its limits, and he hoped no one was watching too closely as with every movement the tarp shifted.
“Ouw, that’s my foot,” Francis whispered.
“Sorry, it’s hard to move,” Bel whispered back.
“Get your hands off there. Now.” Bel felt his face grow red as he shifted his arm and hand away from Liara. The sounds from outside interrupted their hushed conversation. Growls and breathing of a hundred beats could be heard all around them. Bel felt a moment of panic at the thought of an Ulv or something smelling them, the creatures around them so close.
Almost in slow-motion Bel tapped Francis on his shoulder, the young man only able to glance back at him for fear of moving. Bel mouthed "dagger" and gave a give-me motion with his hand that brushed against Liara’s backside again. He quickly stopped and Francis handed him one of his daggers as carefully as possible.
The space was tight and the night had well and truly fallen now so the darkness was heavy. Bel kept his Gaze active and his emotions in check to not give away his position with two burning spots of green flame in the night.
He carefully raised the dagger and cut a small slit into the canvas, enough for him to see what was happening outside. His stomach froze at the sight before him.
The monsters and their master had been joined by what seemed to be hundreds of their lesser brethren, the area brimming with monsters. They were silent and still, watching the proceedings before them.
The Orc was standing in front of a group of humanoid creatures, his alpha minions behind him.
The creatures before him were tall, easily over two meters, and lanky but with corded muscles underneath their furs. They wore simple armor and carried weapons in their hands and their faces were similar to hyenas. Bel recognized them from games and stories. These were the Gnolls his notifications had talked about.
The group was two dozen strong, standing behind the biggest gnoll. The beast was twice as wide as the others. The creature was arguing with the orc, and he waved his hand behind him, over the head of the prisoners kneeling behind him.
The sight of the kneeling terrified humans sent another wave of ice through Bel’s stomach. This time it was accompanied by a tread of anger. Bel quickly whispered to the others what he was seeing, and they swore silently.
The arguing voices reached new heights and Bel could easily pick up what they were saying now. The snarling voice of the gnoll filled with barely restrained rage.
“You lie, orc. Humans not soft target. Many of pack dead by the Dead. What say you?” It snarled. Whether from rage or if their kind had problems speaking its words were almost unintelligible.
“Packmaster Kroh restrain yourself. I told you that this town would have great riches and strong prey for your pots.” The orc’s voice was surprisingly soft and elegant. Bel was perhaps biased, but he expected the orc to speak with a guttural and deep voice. His words still flamed the anger in Bel’s chest.
“This town is nothing before the Laughing Skulls as you can see.” The orc waved to the ruins around them. He was clearly stroking the gnoll's ego as most of the destruction seemed to have been made by his alpha wendigo.
“Your pack is stronger now that the weak flesh has been cut away and you have a rich bounty to bring back to your chieftain. Now the only problem remaining is that you have yet to fulfill your part of our arrangement.” The Orc’s eyes glowed amber as his anger surged. Bel had only seen that phenomenon in one other, himself.
The glow was evident even over this distance. Bel could clearly see the features of the orc. He was similar to the first orc Bel saw, Dan’Lug. This one had more delicate lines and more pointed ears. Perhaps some mixed blood in his ancestry Bel thought. He still had the larger bottom canines Bel associated with Orcs in general. Not that he had much experience with the other races of this world yet.
The gnoll grew stiff at the orc's tone. The threat was clear and the warrior was loathed to give in, but a look around made him rethink his stance. The monsters outnumbered the Gnolls ten to one. In a very hyena-like way, he showed his throat in submission.
“It will done, Beastmaster. The death one close. Prey he is and prey we find.” Its snarls were calmer now but still almost unintelligible.
The other Gnolls had spread out around the prisoners who were still kneeling in the dirt. Their expressions were fearful, angry, or just broken. Torches were handed out and the area was filled with warm light. Bel had no problem seeing through the gloom with his Gaze but the prisoners stirred as more and more monsters became visible. The eerie stillness hiding their presence. Bel suspected that if the orc hadn’t been controlling them, the noise would have been both louder and more violent.
“Yes, I can sense him nearby. The stench of Death permeates the air unnaturally much, even after a conflict such as this.” He waved at the ruins around him. The bodies of dead guards and civilians were spread around the area. Many had been partially eaten and most had died by tooth and claw. A few unlucky ones had been burned or buried alive by the collapsed buildings. Death was everywhere Bel sensed. With every breath, he drank from their sacrifice and his core filled slowly but surely.
“I have a plan for drawing him forth. It seems your Chieftain will have to dine on lesser meat for now.” With a tilt of the orc's head, the Leshen Matriarch sent the branches of her arm forward, the roots and wood spreading and multiplying. It gripped the throat of every prisoner and hoisted them into the air, drawing them closer to itself and its master.
The gnolls growled in protest but offered no resistance. Kroh gripped his large axe, and his arm shook from the effort of not cutting the creature's wooden tendrils into kindling.
“Beastmaster promised tribute. You kill these, what I to bring to Chieftain?” He almost whimpered.
“Don’t worry Packmaster. The church still stands and it is full of offerings and mighty ascended. So does the Mayor’s Hall where most of the guards and officials have withdrawn. I suspect if you search the basements of the town, you will find many more morsels for your pots.” The orc spoke in a callous tone. It was clear he didn’t care what happened to the people of Linchester. The rage within Bel flamed further and he lost control for a moment, his eyes flashing green.
He stiffened as he saw a gnoll looking in his direction. Its alien face was hard to read but he thought it looked confused. It soon lost interest and it turned back toward his leader and the discussion there.
Bel released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. Liara and Francis had stiffened with him but neither could see what was happening and instead they watched him for signs of trouble. They slowly worked on making holes for themselves to see.
Bel was about to relay what was happening when movement from the left stopped him. A large Ulv was making its way over to the cart, sniffing the ground as it went. It seemed the death around them was masking them for now, but this one had clearly sensed something. It was in no hurry, but Bel tensed, readying a skill and his blade.
“Vir’ava would you kindly.” the orc said as he waved toward where the prisoners had been kneeling.
The Leshen didn’t respond, not with its voice at least, instead, it sent forth more roots that quickly formed a large platform with several nooses. A hangman's post. Four people were hoisted up and fastened to the nooses before the monster released them gently. The three men and the woman were visibly shaking from fear. A whimper went through the rest of the group of prisoners.
“I will call for the Dead One. If rumors and the words of that blasted white cloak are true, he will try to save these wretched things. Be ready to seize him should he appear.” The orc said to Kroh. The Packmaster yelped a high-pitched laugh suddenly and the other gnolls reacted by spreading out.
Bel felt his insides grow cold. Someone had been talking about him to the orc and he was here for Bel. Bel felt a trickle of guilt that if he had not been here, this town would not have been attacked. A larger feeling of guilt wormed his way inside his stomach as he saw the four prisoners trembling, one having wet himself. If he did nothing all these people would die, but if he did reveal himself. He, Liara, and Francis would probably also die.
“BEL, BRINGER OF THE APOCALYPSE. HEAR MY VOICE AND SEE.” The orc suddenly shouted at the heavens, his voice carrying all over the town and probably further than that. Anyone within several miles probably heard him. Liara and Francis flinched although the voice didn’t hurt, it was just... loud.
“I CALL ON YOU TO SURRENDER TO ME. I AM GORBAN JE’KLAZ, HIGH PRIEST AND CHAMPION OF MORKIN IN THE EASTERN LANDS. GIVE YOURSELF TO ME AND I WILL SPARE THOSE LEFT IN THIS MISERABLE TOWN. REFUSE AND I WILL START KILLING PRISONERS, STARTING WITH THE FOUR BEFORE ME. STRUNG UP LIKE THE CATTLE THEY ARE. YOU HAVE THIRTY SECONDS TO RESPOND.” It felt like there should have been a massive echo after Gorbans proclamation, instead, there was only silence.
The silence lasted for a second then all the monsters around them and inside the town started to howl, screech, or bellow, into the night. The Ulv near Bel had made its way closer and was hunkering near the tarp now, its head raised toward the dark skies.
Bel started to count the seconds in his head. His heart was thrumming in his chest. A drop of sweat was running down the side of his face and his grip tightened on the hilt of his blade, the blade trembled hard enough to almost cut him in the confined space. He had to do something; he was strong now he could help. A glance at his companions he saw in them a hidden terror as well but also a calm, they knew what they wanted to do. They knew as well as him that if they intervened then they would most likely not leave this town alive and still they would easily sacrifice their lives, even young Francis who was thrust into this life by an abusive father.
Bel felt his heart go cold. He didn’t want to die. He had just found a small purpose in life. Not living the rest of his life as a wage slave. Here he was free. Sweat beaded his brow and made his garments stick to his body. A shiver ran down his spine.
25... 24... 23...
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Thirty seconds can be an eternity Bel learned that night. An eternity of torment if one wasn’t careful. His internal struggle was overwhelming him, if he didn’t know better, he would have thought himself assailed by a Djinkar again.
20... 19... 18...
Bel looked at the others again and saw their frowns. They wanted to act but they waited for Bel to make the first move. Francis had sworn to follow and could do nothing else. Liara was free to do as she pleased, her eyes were stuck to Bel’s face as if she was watching for something. Her eyes gleamed faintly from whatever skill she used to see in the dark, Bel noticed absentmindedly.
15... 14... 13...
He needed to act; he was going to save these people no matter what. Steading himself he tried raising his blade, instead, he froze. His body refused to move. Bel felt like a coward, was he not stronger than this? Tears formed at the edge of his mind as he tried to force himself to do something. A soft hand touched his arm, and he looked down into the green eyes of Liara. So similar to the elven child back in the alley.
That thought sent a jolt through his mind at the same time as a warmth spread from the elf's touch. He sent his mind inward to his core as he followed the mana being pushed into his pathways by Liara. He saw it traveling into his core space where his bowl-like core waited. It had changed since he last reflected upon it.
It was a solid ball now instead of the basin it had been, it was also bigger and brighter with green flames in an edged pattern upon the dark material. It was surrounded by the black nothing still. He could see the white flames of the holy mana licking at the darkness to the side, pushing something back as if it was a shield.
Bel saw a pair of eyes suddenly, dark and full of malice. He recognized those eyes immediately and a shiver of fear ran down his back. He would never forget those eyes, staring at him for hours on end, smiling at his pain.
“Crow... What are you doing here?” Bel felt himself speak, his words both silent and echoing within this space. His voice was weak, and he hated himself for it.
“Hello, rodent... You’ve finally noticed, have you? All it took was some help from that whore of yours.” The voice emanating from the darkness brought Bel to his knees. The sheer weight of it was impossible to resist or comprehend.
“You truly were a mistake of the Master. He should have picked anyone but you Bel. You can’t even rid yourself of your weakness. Trying to save people that you owe nothing to?” The voice was full of contempt and hidden anger.
“You could use your powers to return the balance, to set right a great wrong. You could become a living God-King. Instead, you hide and think about saving the trash of the world, the unawakened?” The pressure increased again. Bel felt helpless, the words affecting his mind like worms wriggling inside a lump of meat.
“No... You’re wrong. I’m strong now. I can make a difference, can’t I...?” Bel hated himself for seeking confirmation from this monster.
“Ha! You, make a difference? Don’t kid yourself, Bel. You couldn’t even kill me properly.” The voice mocked him.
“I killed you! I watch the light leave your eyes!” Bel screamed in anger. The fire around him grew a little brighter and he saw thin tendrils of darkness recede from his core. For a moment his head felt lighter.
“I don’t have time for this. They need my help.” Bel was about to pull his mind back when the face of Crow manifested on the other side of the white flames.
“Fool, you know nothing. Time does not affect us here and my powers will hold you here forever, an eternity of pain. It will be like before, our great shared memory.” The smile turned into a ghoulish expression and Bel felt his fear explode in his chest. In a panic, he tried to leave his core space, but he couldn't focus. He looked around for somewhere to hide but there was only darkness.
“Yes, little rat. Fear me.” The voice was pleased. It grew larger with each moment that passed.
Bel saw the black tendrils pushing their way past the white flame. It tried fighting back, increasing in strength and he could hear a woman whimper in pain. Liara was fighting for him, she was suffering. The woman's green eyes came to him, pleading. Another set of green eyes appeared then. ‘
A small child, fear on her face as she died in agony. The wooden tendril was still stuck in her chest. A life snuffed out too soon. Her parents holding her between themselves, unable to help her. The only thing they could do for their family was to die together.
Bel stared forward his mind seeing these horrible things over and over but instead of pushing him toward despair, it only enflamed his will. His fear faded away and like a cloth being removed a fog lifted from his mind.
“No.” He whispered more to himself than the voice.
“What?” A hint of confusion quickly hidden on the face of Crow.
"I don’t fear you, Crow. I fear becoming like you. I fear killing for sport or for selfish reasons. I’ve killed and killed since I came here, but I have never killed for anything other than survival. Even when my bloodlust was at its highest it wasn’t because I liked killing. I love a challenge, I always have. That is why you choose me, isn’t it? That is why you gave me that skill, Life Transference. So that you could worm yourself inside me and change me.” Bel stood straighter than ever now; the black tendrils completely removed from his core.
The wall of flame separated before him as he waved his hand. His will hardened and his trait finally kicked in. A wave of something unseen sped forward and blew the image of Bartholomew Crow into dust. Behind it a man sat on a throne, a million chains hooked onto his body. Pain and fear were quickly hidden behind anger.
“How?” Death asked.
“Crow was a tool. There was a reason you didn’t choose anyone from this world, you needed someone who didn’t know the system. He was cruel and weak in his own way.” Bel stood before the throne now. Secure in his strength.
“You pushed too hard, too fast. You don’t know humans as well as you think I believe. Had you realized more what kind of man I was perhaps you would have succeeded. I’m not a good man, that is true. I’ve realized that now. But I can learn, and I can become better.” Bel turned his hands toward his core and pulled. A sludge of black goo started to seep out of his core.
“Alexandra spoke about Life Transference and its meaning. I wasn’t paying attention as well as I should have been then, but I realize it now. I killed your creations and stole their Life, and with every absorption, I absorbed a piece of you.” The sludge pooled together on the nothing that substituted for ground in this space. It mewled and whined as Bel clenched his hand, the tar bursting into a green fire. It screamed as it was consumed.
Death had been quiet, watching his champion perform his own exorcism. His face was cold and emotionless. He had cursed everything and everyone countless times throughout the ages. His pain and the sense of betrayal he felt could not be understood by mortal creatures. He hated and his hate was enough to curse a universe still.
“I don’t know what happened to you. Or why your brothers and sisters did what they did. But I will find out. I will make up my mind and walk my own path from now. You’ll try to steer me and so will they. I’ll have to watch out for that.” He waved his hand again and the throne was flung backward growing smaller and smaller.
“One last question, why did you give me THAT trait?” It was a shoot in the dark. Death looked at Bel in cold impotent anger, but Bel saw the smallest hint of confusion before it was gone. A small splinter of suspicion woke inside Bel’s mind.
A wrenching sensation yanked Bel and he realized that time had resumed. He drew in the mana around him pushing it inside his core, topping it off. Then he returned to the waking world.
---
Liara watched as the boy shivered again. The black veins spread from his eyes. Her Infusion of Strength skill waned again, the drain on her mana searing her pathways and causing immense pain. Something was happening and she had no idea what. The window for saving the poor farmers where shrinking quickly and she had no idea what to do. She felt that whatever was happening to Bel could have much larger consequences than anything they’d encountered or seen since this nightmare started.
On the other hand, her heart screamed at her to face the evil outside and save anyone she could. Never before had she felt so conflicted, and it was all this boy's fault.
She forced more mana into her skill as she felt him waver and his eyes grew more distant.
“Liara, what do we do?” Francis whispered as low as possible. The ears of the Ulv right outside their hiding place twitched for a moment.
She looked at Francis and if Bel was a boy, then this was a child. So innocent yet so damaged. Forced into this life instead of living safely with a family who loved him. She remembered the day her parents died and how she had prayed for Iruthel to bring them back. He hadn’t responded, of course, none of the Gods did. Not until that day when Dawn showed her the path.
“We trust in Bel. That he will make the right choice. That you and I haven’t put all our food into a rotted basket.” She answered just as quietly. The Ulv shifted moving toward the tarp, muzzle sniffing the ground.
It drew near and the pair held their breaths. Liara’s anguish increased with each passing second. The Ulv shifted its large head and the small cuts they had made for themselves grew darker from its body. Then its eye looked inside a slit, meeting Liara’s eyes. She felt the thing smirk and it raised its throat to howl.
When suddenly the pain vanished, and a cough sounded next to her. Her and Francis’s heads jerked toward the sound. Bel had a black substance dripping from his mouth down onto his chest. Liara didn’t notice that as she only saw the change in his eyes. She smiled a smile of joy then.
Bel’s hand shoot forward, tearing through the tarp like it was made of paper. He gripped the Ulv’s throat and with a squeeze crushed it. The thing gurgled and spasmed before going limp. Bel wasn’t done there, and he wasn’t going to hide any longer. With a heave, he kicked the creature so hard it flew across the ground hitting several more monsters and crushing them.
A stunned silence followed.
---
Bel straightened as he walked out of the cart. The monsters watching him in stunned silence. Even the orc seemed momentarily lost for words.
5... 4... 3...
He was in time. He hoped.
“I’m here Je’Klaz. Let’s end this, just you and me.” Bel knew the moment he said it that it wouldn’t work. He saw the glint of amusement in the handsome orc's face and the enjoyment he took out of being in control of who lives and dies.
“I don’t believe you are in any position to order me around. I think that a proper demonstration of who is in charge here should suffice.” He nodded toward his Leshen Matriarch and the thing immediately retracted the roots holding the four prisoners afloat. They dropped like stones, screaming in terror.
Just as they were about to land four arrows came out of the darkness, cutting the four roots connected to their throats and cutting them free. They landed with a thud and the Matriach shrieked in pain.
“What?” Gorban stuttered in surprise.
From behind a wall, four individuals rose and stepped forward, the light from the fires illuminating them, not that Bel needed it. His eyes were glowing like two lighthouses at sea.
The first figure was a large brute of a humanoid, for he was no man. Fur covered the few parts of him exposed and his face was that of a human and bear hybrid. A gleam of redness in his eyes as he watched the orc with hungry eyes behind a large shield and massive sword.
The second figure was a fox-kin if the Bearman was a bear-kin. Its delicate red ears and small nose twitched in amusement. In its hands it held a silver bow, arrow knocked and ready.
The last pair were two identical wolf-kins, down to the last strand of fur on their bodies. One held two daggers and the other held a longsword in one hand and its other hand was crackling with lightning.
“Blurg, what are you doing here.” Gorban spat the name out and his face twisted in furious anger.
“The Iron Gods haven’t forgotten the debt you owe them. Orc scum.” Blurg the Bear-kin growled, his voice harsh and deep but completely understandable.
Bel was confused by the sudden appearance of the strange creatures, but he wasn’t going to let this opportunity go to waste. He checked the connection in his mind, and he felt it was growing closer by the second. Opening his mouth to speak he was interrupted once again.
A flash of dark mana interrupted the orc and bear-kins staring match and three individuals suddenly stood to Bel’s right in an open space surrounded by monsters. The three groups almost surrounded Gorban now.
“The bounty on your head will feed us for a long time Gorban. But that is not why I am here at least. Necro-Lord.” The speaker was a human man in his mid-twenties, he was clad in a proper scholarly dress with a jacket over a white shirt and skintight trousers over black boots. His hair was pulled back into a bun and in his hand was a small tome. As he finished speaking, he bowed slightly toward Bel.
The other two were as different as physically possible. The one on the left was a human also, the biggest human Bel had ever seen. He looked like he ate the Terminator and cosplayed as Conan. A massive blonde hair and beard sitting atop a chiseled body wearing only a loincloth, cape, and a large double-bladed axe.
On the other side of the scholarly man was the shortest being Bel had seen so far. He was maybe a meter tall in his boots and held two wicked-looking daggers, one looking to be made out of a tooth of some large predator and the other had glowing red runes on the curved blade. He was clad in black leather armor and the hood was pulled back, showing a handsome if small face and somewhat pointed ears. Bel thought he must have been a halfling.
Bel was as confused as his companions and everyone looked at each other, their eyes roaming from person to person. Gorban was fuming and he felt himself unsure as more and more opponents showed up, he didn't recognize the last group but they were clearly not friendly. His minions shuffled slightly in place, waiting loyally for the command to attack.
As he felt a shift in his mind, Bel took a step forward and looked the orc straight in the eyes. The gnolls shifted and looked toward their Packmaster. The large gnoll had confusion written on his inhuman face and he looked toward the orc who had hired him.
“Well then. I won’t lie and say I know what’s going on here. What I will say is this. You’ll regret coming here and I am personally going to kill you, by the grace of an unnamed child, dead in an alley.” Bel held his arms out to his side, sword and shield in each hand.
“Let’s go.” He said as several throats screamed out in anger and bloodlust, a wave of humans rounding a corner led by a grizzled Warpriest and next to him a large undead carrying a huge backpack and holding a giant maul. Above his head, a burning green skull floated.
Bel pulled on a thread in his mind and a cloud of black smoke enveloped his body, the familiar weight of armor settling on his shoulders. He lowered his arms and held his shield forward and the Necro Blade rested atop it, pointed toward the enemy.
Gorbans eyes grew wide for a second as he took in the charging enemy and the one he had been sent to find, before him. His eyes narrowed as he screamed.
“Kill them all!”
Once again, all hell broke loose.