Chapter 70
Expression of Life
It was quite a spectacle, watching the fires consume the world.
Asher quite easily broke through the encirclement by rushing southward, burning his way through the small rank of depressingly unarmored men. They all sported similar features, ones that he was only able to discern by coming closer to them. High brow ridges, jutting chins and jaws, pronounced cheekbones, dark-colored eyes, low and wide nostrils, and rather plump lips. They were all quite short, too, with most peaking at five foot eight, though broad-shouldered and muscular. A physique that was difficult to maintain, all things considered, especially within the number of necessary calories.
Though he could postulate a thousand thoughts as to who they were, and why they were the way they were, Asher didn't ponder; there were too many things already consuming his ever-shrinking mental downtime, and adding more would just exacerbate the situation. Instead, he chose to burn unabashedly and ignore the smell of charred and burnt flesh on his way through the mass.
He emerged on the other side shortly after, twisting around and facing the coalescing coalition of soldiers--they all streamed toward him, centralizing, with the large figure in the rear commanding. As the distance increased, Asher could no longer make out what he was saying.
The world had gotten a tinge of a red hue and had gotten even darker, with the billowing smoke slowly rising toward the sky. They ignored the destruction and decay, single-mindedly pursuing him as though he was the only thing that mattered. He would blush at the unabashed pursuit if it came from any other place than the desire to kill him.
A bundle of flames exploded above them once more, showering them with fire and taking lives by a dozen. At the same time, the world paused, leading to a rather spectacular--if harrowing--scene of the droplets of flames frozen mid-air, the roaring inferno above them slowly fading.
Two offerings appeared, both enshrined within the gilded, golden borders, shimmering ever so slightly.
Ashes to Ashes [Ultimate Ability]
Level: 0
Effect: Exultation of flames overcomes you. Clasp your hands together, unleashing an infernal blast of energy for six hundred yards in the targeted direction. A moment later, breathe out and ignite the heated energy in a song of blaze. The fires emerge thereafter, ripping through the world as the harbinger of rebirth, consuming everything in their wake. First deal 300 damage to all enemies in the path, after which they get inflicted with ‘Lethal Burn’, causing them to lose 1% of their Max Health until they die. The burn cannot be extinguished.
Cooldown: 300 seconds
Incendium [Ultimate Ability]
Level: 0
Effect: Target a ground within 1,000 yards and consecrate it with a radius of 250 yards. A moment later, infernal flames erupt from the bowels of the world, rupturing it and consuming everything. Pillars of fire as tall as 200 yards blow out, showering the world around with the embers of raging flame, persistently dealing 58 damage to everything caught within their scope. The initial burst deals 180 damage to everything caught in it, and the after-flames persist for 20 seconds, inextinguishable. All shall bow to the fire, its beauty divine.
Asher stared emptily at the two choices and sighed--either of the choices would do. Rather, he’d just solved the entire stage--it was likely that just one cast of either of the spells would kill 90% of the remaining enemies, if not more. In the end, it was the matter of which kind of spectacle he wanted to witness--and so he chose Incendium.
The world unpaused and he focused on the distant, approaching swarm, using the ability immediately. In a breath, he felt it--the entire reality heated up until his skin felt prickly. The red hue shifted further, and the ground quaked for half a breath before the gates of hell opened beneath the marching soldiers’ feet. Dark, hazy, red fires erupted like a geyser, blasting off toward the sky like fireworks, swallowing everything.
It was breathtaking--flaming pillars of death arose like divine blades, ripping the world asunder. Within them, he saw nothing--just fading silhouettes of flesh turned to ash, carried off by the howling winds. Embers scattered and fell like rain, the iridescent blend of colors blindingly beautiful.
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Asher stood in awe and terror, for he witnessed the potential end of the world. There was no escaping the flames, no overcoming them, no defeating them. All within their grasp was consumed, devoured, shorn of flesh and life. It was humbling and sobering, bearing witness to it--and that was in consideration of all the other things he had witnessed in this world. With many of them, his mind simply lacked the ability to comprehend--but fires, world-ending fires, flames besotted with destruction... those he could understand.
Within the churning sounds of the flames consuming the world... it finally broke through--the first scream. Then the second. And soon the choir of the agonized souls weeping for death--the flames were so scalding, so violent, so vicious that their skin did not even have time to melt like wax, and was immediately consumed. However, their flesh and bones... endured. It was not per their resilience, no, rather it was by the flame’s internal design--they suffered the utmost before perishing at last.
A twine of guilt surfaced within Asher’s soul but he quickly swallowed it; he couldn’t afford to have it, couldn’t support the voice in the back of his head quarreling about ethics. And so he killed it, just as the fire was killing everyone else.
Twenty seconds later, it settled and disappeared, leaving in its wake black sooth and silence. The 250 yards that it consumed was now a hollowed-out crater in the ground, black like obsidian from top to bottom, with eerie, fleshy remains seemingly melded together with the ground. A ghastly reminder of what had transpired, and one that he did not want to remember.
Unlike his initial estimates of 90%, the flames killed everyone... with the exception of the Chieftain. And even he did not come out unscathed, having chopped off his left arm as soon as it was caught ablaze, preventing it from consuming him whole.
But it was just a last hurrah--the man stumbled forth like a depressed drunk, each step taking longer than the last, blood bursting out from the cut flesh. There was madness in his gaze, hatred bespeaking the innermost desire--to kill Asher. The man strode around the crater as Asher halted his deluge of spells. Seconds passed and the harrowing winds began to carry off the ashes while the man slowly approached, slowing down.
At a hundred yards, he stumbled, nearly falling over... but he held steadfast.
At fifty yards, he finally fell to his knees, dropping his weapon, and propping himself up with the remaining arm. With a surge of strength that could not be explained, he pushed himself back up on his feet and started walking again.
At twenty-five yards, he collapsed again. His lips parted into a cough and blood sprayed out. He was shivering and shuddering, and no matter the desperation, could not get up. So... be began to crawl.
At ten yards, he was wholly prone on the ground, eyes staring unblinkingly, redder than the hazy sky in the distance. Every yard thereafter felt like an entire battle, and the trail of blood behind him was chillingly telling.
At five yards, he came to a stop. His breathing was shallow, his skin was as pale as snow, and his lips had turned blue beneath the coating of red blood. He’d dug so well into the hard ground that he’d broken his fingernails, but it was no longer enough. He could not drag himself forward any longer. Even so, the pair of maddened eyes remained laser-focused on standing Asher, unblinking. Asher did not look away, meeting them squarely.
The silence persisted between the two for a few seconds before Asher stepped forward, crossing the last five yards. The man grunted, his right arm ripping out of the dirt and latching onto Asher’s ankle; though the broken fingers tried to harden the grip, it was futile. He simply held, choking on his own blood, quelling as much hatred as he could.
Asher suddenly sat down, cross-legged, and took out a bottle of water from his inventory. It was pointless, all this fanfare, he knew. This was likely just an illusion, the image of the man in front of him wholly conjured up from some exaggerated myth. And yet, he couldn't help it.
He brought the bottle close to the man's quivering lips and pressed gently, tilting it until just a few drops at a time were squeezing through. A moment later, he pulled back as the man coughed up the bloodied spit, bringing back the bottle right after. All the while, the man never let go of Asher's ankle, though the grip was loosening at the same rate as the light was flickering out of his eyes.
It was just a few drops, but he managed to gulp them down.
The light disappeared, like someone turning off a light bulb, and only hazy, indescribable darkness remained. The fingers unclasped around his ankles and the hand fell hard and cold to the ground.
Asher remained seated, taking a swig of water as well and looking up from the man toward the sky. How many times did he stand by someone and watch them fade? It must have been dozens, altogether. Some wept, some raged, some begged, and some were silent. But none, truly, wished to go.
Not just yet. That was the inscription he’d see in their quivering eyes. Not just yet.
It was the same for the man.
So real.
So visceral.
So anger-inducing that they were capable of creating something so undoubtedly, crushingly realistic, and the world was still in the constant flux of warfare and death. Was that the ultimate expression of life, no matter what? That, even if death and suffering were solved, the mind could never be absolved from them entirely? That there was a deep-seated yearning for it that the soul could never flee from?
Asher didn’t want to believe it.
It was too depressing of a thought, ultimately. He’d rather live in denial than accept that the struggle had always been for naught, as here so on Earth.
His short-lived introspection was interrupted rather abruptly by a window that appeared in front of him. It was one that hadn’t shown up before, though also one he sort of expected: it asked him whether he’d like to invade someone for a duel.
Rather than accepting immediately, he waited for a moment--if it was truly just random, then Sarah wouldn’t have been so confident. She must have a way to challenge him directly, so he decided to wait a few moments. And, unsurprisingly, just some thirty seconds later, the blue window flashed red and the letters were swiftly rearranged.
You have been forcibly dragged into a Hunt.
As compensation, should you win, you will receive a bounty of 50,000 Souls.
You will be teleported to the dueling stage in 10... 9...
Asher stood up and stretched lazily, ignoring the countdown. The Stage was a good warm-up but, ultimately, where he shone the brightest was not here, surrounded by the unknown. Rather, it was when the world was grounded, when every wound counted, when every drop of lost blood mattered.
3... 2... 1
Darkness swallowed him as he eagerly awaited the return of light.