[QUICK NOTE]
Taking too long, so I decided to split it into two parts!
Enjoy part 1!
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“Hey there, you little shit. Long time no see,” Lucas’s brother said, his square-eyed pupils boring down on the young man, who sat on the ground, patiently waiting for yet another nightmare to end, so he could sleep the rest of the night in peace.
Idly, he looked up, sighing at the phantom of his late brother.
They had different fathers, and it showed. His older brother had been taller and more handsome than him, and frankly, they barely even looked like family. Of everyone he’d ever known, his brother appeared in his dreams most often. His mother held a close second place.
At times, they would both appear at once. At others, he would see Janice, Freddy, Thor, and many others who he had a complicated relationship with. Worst of all was the shadowy figure who had tortured him, but whoever—or whatever was behind these dreams—it was keeping that one for when it really wanted him to suffer.
Alas, as with every kind of pain, repetition borne habituation. He had gotten used to it.
“Or should I call you Drake now?” his brother asked, grinning down at him. He squatted, getting eye level with Lucas who was sitting on the ground, hugging his knees. “Did I ever tell you how fucking pathetic you are?” He cackled. “Are you ever going to change?” The man clicked his tongue, shaking his head at Lucas. “Tell me, when you begged that freaky bitch for a giant body, did you ask her to fix your… inadequacy, too?”
“Or were you too much of a coward?” He smirked. “Was that why your wife left you? Or are you still pretending you”—he mockingly air-quoted—”’chased her away for her own good!’” He broke into a fit of laughter.
Lucas sighed. He’d heard his brother say some variation of this probably fifty times by that point. With a tightening of his lips, he got up to his feet.
Among the defenders, it was common knowledge by that point that doing anything at all only made the dreams worse. It was best to simply curl up and stay still, unmoving and silent, and wait it out.
As Lucas got up to his feet, his stature reflecting his new body, he was fully aware that he was making a mistake. But at that point, even making it worse was preferable to enduring the twisted ghost of his brother repeating himself like a broken record.
“Oh, what’s that, big man?” His brother grinned. “You gonna hit me?”
“Hey,” Lucas called. “I was wondering… what are you? Why are you doing all this?” He bent over, looking deeper into those square eyes. “What do you get out of these nightmares? Is it just a way to tire us out? Aren’t you supposed to seduce me somehow? Why all this, then? I’m not a target of value, I guess?” He went silent for a moment, waiting for an answer. “Or are you just biding your time?”
As his brother simply continued grinning at him, Lucas extended a hand to his chest and pushed him back. His brother suddenly went limp, collapsing to the ground with a wet, rotten thud. The living, breathing image of his brother was suddenly replaced by a corpse—beneath it, maggots and other bugs scurried away.
Lucas blanched. “I’d say this would haunt my dreams, but it’s kind of too late for that, isn’t it?” Sighing again, he kneeled, taking a closer look at his brother’s face. “Hey,” he muttered. “You seem to know everything about me. How?” he continued to goad, trying to get any kind of answer out of the mysterious entity. “Can you read my mind? Isn’t that supposed to be impossible?”
For a long moment, his brother’s dead form remained impassive. And then, a moment later, its mouth split into a sickening, rotten grin. “That’s the thing about Nightmares… my dear Lucas…” he spoke in a foreign, strange voice, his hollow eye sockets turning ever-so-slightly to pierce Lucas’s soul. “I don’t even know you exist.”
***
Lucas woke up with a shout.
The bunk bed that was way too small for him shook with his movement, disturbing the sleep of the injured fighter above him. The second bunk bed on the other side of the tiny room was still, as the two men within slept like the dead, already more than used to the sounds of others waking with a start.
Taking a deep, shivering breath, Lucas clutched the thin sheets with his hands. “What was that…?” He nervously glanced around the room, almost as if expecting something to crawl out from under one of the beds. What exactly just spoke to me?
I don’t even know you exist…
He scowled at those words. For a long moment, he thought he might have stumbled upon a valuable piece of information. But the words meant nothing to him, even if they felt important.
He found his jaw to be clenched hard enough that he could barely open his mouth. He was clutching his sheets with an iron grip. Releasing what little air was trapped in his chest, he slowly breathed in, trying to calm himself down.
The beating of his heart slowed. The tension in his shoulders lessened. There was work to do. It was time to get up.
Having slept enough, he crawled out of the small bunk bed. His upper body showcased a number of scars he’d earned in the months of fighting. Thankfully, there were still enough healers around, as they were being protected like the priceless treasure they were. Otherwise, some of the hits he’d taken might have very well kicked him out of the fight for good.
One of the other three men in the room with him groaned in his sleep. Lucas eyed him briefly, seeing that he was tightly wrapped up in bandages soaked in blood. Someone needs to come check on him, he realized numbly as he made his way out of the room.
As soon as he pulled the metal doors of his barracks room open, he was overwhelmed by the sound of fighters scurrying about, random orders being thrown up and down the hallway. It was a regular sight. The once scattered mercenaries and miscellaneous fighters had long since been united and organized into an army.
The threat of death at the jaws of those foul beasts was more than enough convincing to make even the most stubborn of freelancers obey.
After spotting a tired-looking medic, an older woman who was smoking a cigarette as she waited for an emergency to crop up among those who were recovering, he approached and tapped her on the shoulder. “Room 152,” he said rotely. “Heavy bleeding, possible delirium.”
She clicked her tongue, throwing her cigarette on the ground and angrily stomping it. “Two fucking minutes.” She charged in the direction of his room. “Can’t catch two fucking minutes for myself.” Barking out something between a growl and a swear word at a man who blocked her path, she vanished down a turn in the hallway.
Lucas shook his head and continued on his way.
He made his way to the cafeteria, where he was served a large portion of slop. Well, it was “stew,” cooked of mystery meats and whatever the suppliers could get their grubby little hands on. As he took a bite, he got a mouthful of the standard food pill bitterness, albeit a bit less intense than usual. While they ruined the flavor of the stew, they were by far the most nutritious thing within it. And it seemed like the city was running low on its reserves.
With his breakfast sitting heavy in his stomach, he got up and headed back into the hallway.
After making it past a horde of scurrying fighters, Lucas stepped into the locker room, quickly locating his stash and opening it with a key he’d stored in the ring on his finger.
The once glorious armor had collected a number of scratches and had been repaired no small number of times. The enchantments still worked, thankfully, but they were growing weaker as the damage piled on. He slowly put the armor on, one tattered piece at a time, before finally pulling the helmet over his face.
It was a strange thing. The moment the visor went on, it was like all his doubts and problems vanished. The dreams, the memories, the future. It all became nothing but background noise. He heard his own breath inside the helmet, felt its warmth.
With a final tug, he lifted his chipped halberd off its rack and carefully held it beside his body, to make sure he didn’t accidentally hurt anyone. He charged outside, finding himself right behind the tower and the wall keeping them all alive. With a deep breath, he charged towards the gate leading outside and lining up.
The exit in the wall was a tight corridor, and he was forced to keep his head down as he moved through it. He heard the echoes of a number of footsteps both before and behind him, the heavy breaths, groans, and whispers of his fellow fighters melding into a background drone as, slowly, they all made their way towards the light at the end of the tunnel.
And then, he was finally outside.
“Hold them back!” a deep voice screeched as a small horde of white, dog-sized monsters with eight legs and lamprey-like jaws instead of a face charged the vanguard.
The smell of charred flesh, the sound of metal clashing with teeth and bone, whistling projectiles, fiery explosions, the sight of colorful flashes of fire and light dousing the battlefield and culling the beasts—he paused for a long moment, taking it all in.
And then, with a war cry, he charged.
“Drake is here!” someone shouted. “Supports!”
A heavily armored man, basically covered in a shell of metal to keep him as safe as humanly possible, intercepted Lucas, and with a pat on his back, imparted a Blessing.
Holy essence coursed throughout Lucas’s body, filling him with ecstasy as it slowly converted into physical might. His muscles stretched taut, and with another roar, he leaped over the front line, the halberd smashing down into the back of a particularly large monster and crushing its spine.
The ether fled the beast’s perished form and flowed into Lucas’s body. Some of it converted into essence, topping one of the few percent his couple of hours of sleep failed to recharge. Some of it merged with his latent aura, dyeing it another shade of red, fueling the power of his upcoming ascension. And the rest was lost, as he’d long ago reached the peak of the first star, which roiled, waiting for him to finally be satisfied enough with his growth to carry on.
For many months, both on the inside and outside, Lucas’s life had been a warzone. And he was Lucas, not Drake. That was the name he’d been given, and that was the name he would always refer to himself by, no matter who else he pretended to be.
With a wild scream, he swung his halberd again, powered by a Stage 1 Tectonic Strike. The beast that was in the middle of charging at him received a hit to the side of its neck. The earth affinity was the simplest affinity there was. And Tectonic Strike might very well be the plainest ability in existence. All it did was add momentum to whatever the user what swinging. And it worked really, really well.
The relatively light axe head of the halberd struck with the weight of several sledgehammers as it sank into the creature’s neck, more crushing than cutting through, until it practically tore its head off its shoulders, sending a shower of blood and gore all around it.
A couple of soldiers cheered as they joined in, thrusting spears and swinging swords, smashing picks into weak spots and hammers into bone. Lucas twirled his halberd, rotating it to the spiked side as he slammed it down into the head of another monster, then, as he pulled it out, he thrust the tip into the throat of a second, and then again chopped through the side of a third.
For a long while after getting his new body, Lucas had struggled to come to terms with who he even was. With whom he’d been his whole life.
While those abnormal monsters called Freddy and Sophia barely noticed him, he had fought like crazy, pushing himself far past the limits of what a normal one-star would be capable of. Many times, he felt like he was being babysitted. Be it the mercenaries or that ridiculously talented flesh manipulator, they had treated him like someone who needed to be watched like a toddler.
And many times, that wasn’t far from the truth. Without that woman’s healing, he wouldn’t have been able to keep up for long.
That frustration nearly drove him insane.
Before long, he found himself dabbling with Hundred Wet Hells, with Freddy’s borrowed tissue drastically helping him adjust. The pain had been unbearable at first. But he had pushed through. Same as with Stone Skin. The pellets of rock smashing into his sensitive epidermis had made him wince and whimper. Now, he could use the ability without a sound.
They once again failed to notice, but as they had continued fighting, less and less did Lucas need to be healed or bailed out of trouble.
Then, all of a sudden, their party had disbanded. He had been left alone. At first, he’d been afraid. After all, no matter what, he was still just a one-star. He was barely even an adult. And he was being thrown at the frontlines of war.
“A deviant! Pull back!”
Lucas whirled, spotting the pink-haired creature in a second. It was far bigger than its dog-sized brethren, almost reaching the size of a carriage, clearly being at least a star above in power—maybe even two. He watched it brush off the bolt of a ballista effortlessly as its circular maw widened, releasing a high-pitched screech.
With a deep breath, he tightened the grip on his halberd. He got into a low stance, pulling the halberd back.
Due to his speed, he wasn’t a fan of Abyssal Depths. With his reliance on the halberd, he didn’t quite need Flowing River. Without an essence-manipulation talent, he couldn’t create the Hydraulic Fluid tempering technique.
That left him with only a few options. And out of them all, only one had stood out to him. One that most people thought was insane, perhaps even more so than Hundred Wet Hells.
He vividly felt the channels of cerebrospinal fluid coursing through his central nervous system, transporting nutrients and washing away impurities. With a thought, he activated Cerebrospinal Vortex.
His arms twitched. His whole body felt like it had lit on fire as he opened his eyes wide, his perception speeding up to the point where it almost felt like the world had crawled to a stop.
With a deep bellow, he leaped forward with Hydraulic Flex, rushing the bulky creature.
It noticed him. A moment later, he saw the center of its body light up with the glow of three stars. Its circular maw spun like a saw as it opened it, releasing tendrils of flesh in his direction, trying to tie him up and consume him. He saw every single one of them, the way they pulsated and squirmed as they approached faster than he could dodge.
With a wild snarl, he swung his halberd, cutting those closest to reaching him, and within moments, opening a way forward. Before it could react, he lowered his bulky form and snuck under its attack, slashing the axe-head, powered by Hydraulic Flex and Tectonic Strike, across the creature’s neck, cutting a deep rent.
The creature jolted, pulling its tongue-like appendage back, but before it could reorient them into an attack, he sliced through its front left leg. It fired the fleshy mass directly at him, but with an inhuman reaction time, he bent around it, already swinging his halberd spike-first at the creature’s eye.
One attack after another, he narrowly avoided death as he fought back, pressuring the monster and allowing the rangers to pile damage on it. With its life affinity, it was seemingly capable of healing from anything, but such repair was too shallow to help it keep up, no matter how much it pretended to be invincible.
At some point, it finally decided that it was in too much danger, and with a snarl, turned its remaining seven limbs to run away.
Squatting low, Lucas activated Hydraulic Flex. His powerful legs bulged like water balloons, and in the next moment, he was flying through the air. He brought the halberd down, planting his right foot on the bottom of the axe head, and with another Tectonic Strike, pushed the spear tip deep into the creature’s spine.
It released a disgusting, visceral screech as it came crashing down, and Lucas pulled on the haft, breaking its spine completely before pulling his weapon out. Again, amidst the shower of blood, he received the flood of ether and his due of 1% of essence, as he closed his eyes and breathed it in.
All his anxieties had been washed away, the doubt and all the difficulties gone as if they had never been there.
Who was Lucas Black?
Honestly? He was a fucking loser. A sniveling, ungrateful shithead. Someone who hated himself, down to his very core.
But looking at himself now, even if he still felt like a fraud, like an imposter, he clenched his fist, burning with the desire to make the power he was given his own. Indeed, without the help of others, especially Freddy and Sophia, he would be nothing. But he was done wallowing in self-pity. Just because he got some help, it didn’t mean he couldn’t take pride in what he’d done with his own two hands.
Who was Lucas Black?
Honestly? Some days, he didn’t even know.
But he did know who he wanted to become.
The image of his brother mocking him every night flashed through his mind’s eye, making him grit his teeth.
He knew who he didn’t want to be anymore. He knew he wanted to change.
It was only then that he noticed the whooping and cheering of the other frontliners, the burden of the incoming wave having grown a lot lesser with the big monster taken out of the fight. Grinning, he jumped off the dead body, rejoining the fray, his trusty old halberd right by his side.
Before long, another ebb in the tides had come, and the frontliners sought the nearest place to sit and rest while they had the chance.
Lucas plopped right against the wall and took his helmet off, then proceeded to drain a whole canteen of water. With Water Body, he didn’t grow thirsty nearly as fast as other one-stars, but the rush of battle always left him parched.
He was sweaty as hell under his armor. Briefly eyeing his essence and wincing as he saw it under 50%, he reluctantly parted with a few wisps of it to cast Evaporation on the sweat coating his body. It was a crucial ability in cold weather like this, at least if he didn’t want to have to return to the barracks to dry up. Hypothermia was dangerous, even for archhumans.
His skin was already steaming, but as he used the ability, his armor basically transformed into a fog machine for a few moments. Some of that vapour condensed against his metal armor, and then froze into a thin coating of ice. But even then, he felt his body start to warm up again as he stopped losing body heat.
For a long while, he sat there, taking in the smells and idle chatter. He meditated when he could, but there wasn’t much point. The Northern Belt was already an ether desert, and with so many others around, he was lucky to find even a single wisp of water or earth floating around. Even then, claiming it required him to beat out the dozen others trying to pull it in at the same time. It just wasn’t worth it.
The ebb continued for a while. A long while, indeed. Too long. The monsters were nowhere to be seen. Something was wrong.
“Hey there, bud. You holding up well?” a boyish, cheerful voice echoed from beside Lucas. breaking him out of his reverie.
Lucas turned, spotting the three-star scout who had once been part of the same party as he and the others. “Eren,” he called. “Been a while.”
While he hadn’t interacted much with anyone from his party, after leaving it, he had stumbled upon this man a few times, and before long, they developed something of a strong acquaintanceship. Not quite a friendship, though.
It was hard for people of different ranks to be friends.
“Yeah,” Eren said as he took a seat beside Lucas. “I swear, I’ve never seen time pass slower than this.”
Lucas snorted. “Yup. I feel like I’ve been here for years at this point.” Pause. He looked up at the utter lack of monsters coming their way. It was odd. “Say, something weird is up today, no?”
Eren nodded. “This is the first time we’ve seen an ebb like this. I’m guessing something horrible is going to happen. Something horrible always happens in moments like these.”
And as if summoned by the man’s words, a shout echoed from the wall above. “Everyone gather for an audience!”
Sighing, Lucas picked up his weapon and got up. “You just had to say that, didn’t you?”
Eren gaped in mock offense. “Well at least I didn’t say something like ‘Maybe it’s finally over?’”
Lucas snickered. “Watch yourself.” He offered the man a fist-bump. “Whatever it is, I’m sure we’ll make it through.”
Eren’s smile tightened. “Now that’s a deathflag.”
Lucas chortled. “Remember, your wife and kids are waiting for you at home!”
Eren gasped. “You’re making it worse!”
Pouring oil onto fuel, Lucas thought for a moment before adding, “Didn’t you say your wife is pregnant?”
Eren slammed his ears shut. “Lalalala, I can’t hear you!”
Lucas chuckled and waved before running off, joining the crowd of gathering fighters. It wasn’t only those who were already there—even the fighters who’d been sleeping had been woken up, and were now filing through the wall to join up. Whatever was happening, it really wasn’t good.
They lined up and waited for some three-star Lucas had never met before to explain the situation. Apparently, the monsters were encircling the city, with a substantial number from surrounding settlements rerouting to join the fray.
There was no panic among the defenders. Even those who would have lost their shit a couple of months ago simply kept their backs straight and faces impassive.
The people there had seen others die. They saw someone die every damn day. They had been injured. They had seen hell. Not even their dreams were safe from the invasion. For a long while already, everyone present had been prepared to wake up one day, leave the walls, and bite the dust.
Today was no different. If anything, a sense of excitement appeared to permeate the air. It was a visceral thing, and everyone could feel it. The sense of finality.
Everyone there knew it. One way or another, it would all soon be over.
They were split into teams and handed extra supplies. The medics flooded out into the field, giving anyone who needed it treatment, not sparing any of their essence. Those with chipped or broken weapons were offered new ones. Even Lucas was offered a new halberd, but despite the chips on it, he knew his enchanted weapon was substantially better than the basic one he was being offered.
Within half an hour, the entire force of defenders was ready to spread out like a wave through a pond. And that was when everything went to hell.
Every single communication device lit up at once. All the leaders scrambled, screams and frenzied orders echoing throughout their ranks. “Turn back! Back into the city!”
***
Emily’s communication device lit up. She accepted the call and simply said, “I told you so!”
“Well, you were right,” the adjudicator said. “Please don’t do anything rash, Miss Umbra. Scout the situation and stay hidden. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
“Right. Going dark now!” She hung up and put the device away into her storage ring as she leaped from one rooftop to another, using her hair as a grappling tool to help her move more efficiently.
For an assassin, there were few skills more important than being able to see through a set-up. And as far as she was concerned, the ring of monsters was the most obvious distraction she had ever seen. The fact that it hadn’t happened earlier was a dead giveaway.
She had already been scouting through the city for almost half an hour. At first, she found nothing notable—and then, right in the middle of the city, close to their only, pitiful passage, a hole burst open through the ground, and a not-insignificant horde of monsters flooded from it, drowning the street in screams, be it those of the predators, or of their prey.
For a while, she had been operating outside of her element. Running at monsters out in the open and fighting like some kind of barbarian just wasn’t her style. It was finally time for her to rely on her real skillset. The thing she was best at.
Something was coordinating this attack.
It was time to find where it was hiding.
And, if possible… kill it.
After making it a mile or so from the eruption, she burglarized her way through a window by sneaking her shadowy hair through the seams and twisting the handle open, climbed into an empty, abandoned office, and whispered, “Shadow Anchor” into the darkest corner she could find. A moment later, a dark form coalesced into existence, taking the vague shape of her body, carved from pitch dark.
With that out of the way, she fled back outside and started making her way toward the eruption.
Around the central plaza that was being swarmed by monsters, there were a number of buildings. Rather than moving towards the closest ones, she located a slightly taller glass skyscraper about half a block away and headed toward it. A few minutes later, she was at its base, facing the side opposite to the plaza.
Her hands and feet turned pitch black as a thin layer of shadow enveloped them. Then, she started climbing straight up, leaping dozens of feet at a time as she rapidly scaled the monolith.
If there was any one property shadow had as an element, it was that it was… sticky. It took the form of a thick, persistent, viscous fog that stuck to things like glue. Many fools believed shadows could be formed into dark blades or solid projectiles, but while there were maybe some rare talents that enabled that, that was far from what shadows were best for.
Once she made it high enough, close to the very top of the building, she moved her hair and the razor blades hiding within to slice a circular hole into the window on the side.
This building, however, was not empty. Not yet. The workers within were in the middle of evacuating. Nobody even noticed her scurrying around the back as she approached a window on the other side, trying to take a closer look at the source of the eruption.
She slid behind a desk in the very corner, right beside the view below, and extracted a set of binoculars from her storage ring. She zoomed in, looking across the plaza.
Right in front of the central passage, a massive sink hole, about fifty meters in diameter, had opened in the ground. Monsters spewed from the gaping maw in the earth, almost looking like a colorful fluid when viewed from so far above. Emily’s jaw clenched at the sight.
This was a calculated move, and a cruel one, at that. After all, the central passage was the place where most of the people were meant to be evacuated in case of something like this happening. Just as she took a glance at the aforementioned passage, she spotted something that made her blood freeze in her veins.
Two people casually strode from within the portal. The blood covering their bodies was evidence enough of what they’d done to the workers who were preparing the evacuation chambers within.
Of the two, one was a woman who Emily sensed to be at the second star. She wore a set of black leather armor, and carried a double-ended spear. The weapon was forged of two materials. One half was a transparent crystal of sorts, and the other was a black metal.
The woman only got a passing glance from Emily as she turned to look at… It.
The sight of the “person” she barely even recognized as a human made her stomach twist in her gut. It was a man, she guessed, standing shirtless and bare-footed, nothing but torn rags in the rough shape of pants covering his body. His skin was discolored, his limbs twisted the wrong way, and his face… the elongated features, like clay stretched out, were something she wouldn’t ever forget the sight of.
He walked like he was barely able to, but despite his shambling appearance, he was no helpless cripple. After all, the man was flashing his stars… all four of them, as hard as he could, spreading his aura out. An aura that was dense. Far, far too dense. It was a feeling Emily recognized. After all, it was a feeling she knew all too well from when her father released his full presence—it was the weight of two talents resting within a single soul.
But this felt… different. It was like looking at a container bursting apart at the seams. It felt wrong. Her gaze drifted back to the man’s twisted body, its sickening form all too congruent with the wrongness of his presence.
Her eyebrows jumped as she made the connection.
Whatever had been done to this man to bring him to this level of power, it had clearly been forced into him, pushing him way past what his soul—and body—could handle. He was like a flickering candle, barely holding on to his wilting existence, and yet, he burned all too brightly, with all the wrath of a raging wildfire.
If she was being generous, she estimated he could live for perhaps another year or so before the side effects of whatever he had done caught up with him. Worst was the fact that such a thing couldn’t have been done to him by force. He had agreed to it. “Lunatic…” she whispered under her breath.
She watched him exchange a few words with the woman standing beside him, and then, the man cocked his head, looking around as if he’d noticed something.
Emily’s grip on the binoculars tightened. “No way…”
Suddenly, the man’s mangled head snapped right in her direction, his square-shaped pupils the only thing on his face even close to a regular shape. And a twisted grin of pure evil spread out as his deformed legs bent and he leaned forward.
“Shadow Swap!” Emily shouted in a panic, and in the blink of an eye, she appeared in the building she’d hidden the shadow in, sweat bathing her entire body, her breaths coming heavy.
Half of her total essence reserves—right about 100% essence—had been whisked away by the spirit ability. Despite leaving her with less than a quarter total reserves, all things considered, it was an incredibly cheap price to pay for her life. But…
She moved to the window, glancing at the building she’d just teleported away from. Her jaw dropped at the sight of dust billowing from shattered windows on the floor she had just run from. In the next moment, massive cracks ran down the sides of the glass building. Another moment later, she watched with horror as the building began crumbling away, taking the still-evacuating workers down with it.
For a long second, she just stood there, her mind failing to catch up with what she was seeing. This was bad. Horrible. Far beyond the worst case scenario anyone could have predicted. After all, there was only one person who fit the description of the man who just nearly killed her—it was Nahar Kraven. The man behind this entire invasion.
She fumbled for her communication device and called up the adjudicator.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
“A big one. Nahar Kraven is here. The imperial executioners are hunting a distraction.”
The adjudicator was silent for a long moment. “How powerful?”
She grit her teeth at the recollection of the weight of his aura. “Too powerful. Four stars, double talent. I just saw him leap to the top of a building without an ability.”
“Thank you for the information, Miss Umbra,” the adjudicator said. Silence came yet again, and she heard the whisper of a sigh coming from the man. “I’ll see what I can do. As for you… I highly advise you to evacuate.”
She took a shivering breath, still shaken by what she saw.
Even among four-stars, there was quite a bit of power disparity. For a four-star to be nothing but an adjudicator—for a minor city in a region like the Northern Belt, at that—it meant he was likely among the lowest-rungs when it came to imperial four-stars.
Out of respect, she didn’t want to write the man off quite yet. But unless his experience closed the gap… odds were, he wasn’t going to win this fight. “I see. Best of luck.” And with that, the connection cut off.
Her hand fell limply beside her body, a ragged breath escaping her lips. The silence around her was only cut by the distant screams of monsters chasing the civilians through the streets.
“I guess this was a waste of time in the end…” Turning on her heel, she made her way toward the window. But a moment later, she stopped, biting her lip.
This was the first time in her life to have participated in something like this. Before she came, she was briefed that invasions such as this one often failed, and that she should be prepared to bail if such a thing came to pass. She thought she knew what she was getting into.
Raising her hand, she wiped the blood running down her chin, and finally remembered to relax her jaw, freeing her lip from the piercing grasp of her teeth.
Most likely, everyone in this city was dead, bar those few lucky enough to be able to survive an escape past the monster encirclement waiting outside the city.
Finding herself at the cusp of disaster, the failure of the defense felt all too personal. A sudden, profound calm overwhelmed her as the years of training finally found perch within the chaos in her mind.
She was an assassin. And an assassin needed only three things—a target… a weapon…
And an opening.
She spotted the bleeding, skeletal giant, who was now peeking over the tall defenses of the outside wall, looking into the city.
This wasn’t over. Not yet.
Her presence seemingly vanished into nothingness as shadows covered her form. She locked a bracelet around her left wrist, and with that, she appeared no different than a mortal even to the aura of a four-star like Nahar. The effect would only last for about an hour. If nothing happened in that time, she would run.
And if she got the opening she was looking for… She chuckled. “Oh, dad would be so pissed if he knew what I was about to try…”
***
One side shrieked, hissed, growled, barked, and screamed. The monsters gathering in the circle around the city stood their ground. Or at least they tried to.
But on the other side, an eerily quiet swarm of blade-handed undead optimized for short lives of gruesome violence charged forward, uncaring of their survival as they put the deaths of their targets above all else.
All but the biggest of monsters there failed to hold their ground.
One of the undead stood back, silently watching over the carnage from the top of a nearby hill. Suddenly, its back slid open like a fleshy body suit, and a woman in the nude stepped out, freeing herself from her meaty disguise. Her body was closer to that of a man than a woman, with a lean, muscular physique, broad shoulders, and narrow hips.
Looking down at herself, freezing, bloody, and buck naked in the snow, she sighed. For a brief moment, she admired the sheer absurdity of it. “I am getting a little too used to being gross.” Swallowing further complaints, she extracted some clothes from her ring and started getting dressed.
Sophia was getting seriously tired of this whole situation. Frankly, she felt like she was slowly losing her mind.
Sure, she was doing this to keep people safe, and the values beaten into her her entire life told her that she was doing the right thing, even if her methods were… bizarre.
But while her upbringing still held a strong influence over her decisions, she didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye with the ways of the people she once called family. And as she spent her days alone, hiding away inside of bodies of undead monsters, performing horrific experiments, seeing first-hand just how much terror she could bring upon the world should she choose to… she didn’t quite feel like she was heading down the right path.
Standing on the hill, she watched the chaos below, staring at it with a numb expression.
The undead she was making were far from the best she could do. Their essence capacity was quite low. In fact, many of them had gone up a star, two, and even three. But even as four-stars, they were only at the level of a decently competent two-star archhuman in power.
And yet, she watched with an intense gaze as they tore through the horde of monsters with horrifying ease, their miasma-coated claws rotting flesh with every swing. They received numerous attacks, and yet, seemingly nothing was capable of putting them down.
What could she make, should she decide to put her moral values aside?
Eyes wide open, she imagined the numerous improvements, small and big, that she could bestow upon her creations. Could she end this whole ordeal if she decided to do so? Could she even control such power if she really went all out?
She closed her eyes with a shudder and shook her head. Raising her hand, she extracted a communication crystal from it. For some reason the monsters were collecting in a circle around the city, and she wanted to know what was happening.
However, the crystal was utterly unresponsive. Nobody picked up. She scowled. Slowly, she turned to face the direction of the city. Her eyes widened as she saw the all-too-familiar sight of a cloud of pink hovering above the city.
The sight of life force. Human life force.
It took her but a moment to slip back into the flesh golem. She turned, running straight for the city without a moment of pause, leaving the hordes behind.
***
The adjudicator sighed as he put down his communication crystal. A hollow chuckle escaped his lips. “I can’t stop him myself,” he declared matter of factly, speaking to himself in the empty office. After another moment of hesitation, a bottle of whiskey appeared from within his storage ring, and he took a deep gulp, before throwing the bottle on the ground, letting it shatter and spill the alcoholic beverage all across the hardwood floor.
Legally speaking, there were surprisingly few things he needed to do as an adjudicator. But those few musts sucked all the joy out of any privileges his station earned him.
Legally speaking, he didn’t have to stop Nahar.
But… he did have to try.
Should he abandon his duty entirely, he would be convicted of treason. But even a half-hearted attempt was going to put him up against a threat he knew he wasn’t qualified to handle.
Today might very well be the day he died.
Still, he steeled himself and headed out of the office and into the halls of the tower, thoughts of abandoning his duty nowhere to be found.
True, should he somehow be successful today, he would likely face a promotion unlike anything he’d dreamed of. Hell, just the latent aura success would bring might push him along enough to qualify him for receiving a minor fief somewhere in the empire, finally ending the torture of living out here in this hellscape.
But even that wasn’t why he held his head high as he headed outside.
In many ways, he was a dishonorable person. That much he couldn’t really deny. He had squinted past injustices many times during his career, and had even profited off of the wide-spread cruelty of this region.
At the end of the day, however, he still had a bottom line.
When he first started his career as an adjudicator, he had been bitter, dejected, and hopeless. He had worked so hard to reach the fourth star, and what did he get in return? A thankless, soulless job with fewer luxuries than he enjoyed at the peak of the third star. Such was the fate of one like himself, who had relied on money and an assortment of treasures to keep making progress. He wasn’t powerful enough to be a Lord.
But the years of work he’d put into maintaining order had given him a purpose he never expected to have.
To those who chose to bare their fangs at the empire, he was the judge, jury, and the executioner. In the full power granted unto him by the word of law and the authority of Empress Kaiya herself, he stood at the frontlines, his back turned to order, and his fierce gaze aimed at chaos.
He was an imperial adjudicator—to all the ill-doers in the region under his name, he was the very hand of law.
He burst through the door to the changing room.
A minute later, he walked back out, wearing his official uniform, one reserved for moments that defined his career. A golden mask with a stern face carved into it. A white periwig. A black suit.
With a four-star tzenekite imbuement, his suit-shaped armor and mask were some of the highest-quality pieces of gear anyone in the empire had access to.
Slinging his trusty cursed shovel over his shoulder, he made his way up to the top of the tower. There, he stepped into a carriage, where a driver was already waiting for him. He stepped inside, and they floated into the air, swiftly arriving above the central plaza.
He looked down and watched upon the remains of a collapsed building, feeling the vast, churning aura of a twisted four-star soul shining within. And then, without a moment of hesitation, he leaped down.
His descent was swift. Within seconds, he landed, not even bothering to bend his legs as his landing kicked up a small cloud of dust. The enchantments on his shoes and suit flared for a moment after absorbing the impact, but the spent essence was quickly replenished with the four-star imbuement fueling them.
Bracing himself up against the shovel, he looked upon a pile of debris as it suddenly exploded, sending reinforced concrete in a shower around the epicenter. From within the hole crawled out a man with a mangled, deformed body, his skin full of off-colored patches and his elongated face twisted into something barely human.
“Nahar Kraven,” the adjudicator called out.
The twisted figure turned to him with a grin. “Who’s calling?”
Lifting his shovel by the handle, the adjudicator pointed it at his target, his aura flaring with every shred of his presence. “You are guilty of treason and conspiracy against the empire. By the decree of the Council of Imperial Adjudicators, you have been sentenced to death.” A crystal of green miasma formed at the tip of his shovel. “Prepare to die.”
***
Traps hidden in the woods didn’t exactly discriminate between monsters and people. The safe paths were marked, and there were maps detailing them that were distributed to every defender. But the safe route meandered. It just wasn’t fast enough.
Freddy bulldozed right through the dangerous areas. Explosions, poison gases, bear traps, sharp wires, hidden arrows—he was struck by a number of lethal attacks. Through the combination of his armor and the Crimson Dragon Scales beneath it, he shrugged most of the danger off, but it had still slowed him down a bit, making him arrive precious minutes later than he could have otherwise.
“Bloodshed!” he shouted at the massive skeleton, who lowered a hand to let him climb on.
He was raised above the wall, where he could see the chaos within. The sight made his throat tense and stomach drop.
Whatever was controlling the monsters didn’t have an absolute reign over them—some of the stronger ones still seemed to retain some agency, and “acted out” despite what might have been a better strategy for them to take. Some of the dumber ones, like golems, simply didn’t respond to complex commands. And the smarter ones often stubbornly stuck to whatever they wanted to do.
But there was a certain golden zone of power and intelligence that allowed them to employ complex strategies. Such as slowly burrowing beneath the city, until they eventually reached right before the local passage, and then carving out a hole and swarming outside.
Like a thick swarm of ants, monsters were everywhere throughout the city.
Just from what he could see from his vantage point, he spotted nothing stronger than a weak two-star human. But that was more than enough.
With a panicked numbness, Freddy looked across the city, spotting countless people being hunted down. The monsters broke through windows, dragging men, women, children—
He took his mask off to puke, his breathing shallow and rapid.
“It’s all over…” he muttered, unable to bring himself to raise his eyes and look upon the calamity.
Master… Bloodshed spoke directly into his mind. Take a closer look.
He lifted his head, looking in the direction Bloodshed was pointing.
There were hotspots of defenders pushing back, allowing a small portion of the cityfolk to make their way towards the wall. Freddy’s stomach clenched at the thought of the monster encirclement. “So that’s why…?” Whether anyone who escaped the city would actually survive was questionable.
But it wasn’t over yet.
Suddenly one of the taller buildings close to the plaza started to collapse. Even among the absolute flood of insanity overwhelming Freddy’s senses, the collapse of the building stood out like a blazing beacon of madness. “What the hell is that…?”
Could it be…
Freddy pushed his mask back on his face and took a deep breath. A calm descended upon him as he took it all in. Even with all his power, he couldn’t make much of a difference against the flood. Not without taking a lot of civilians down as collateral. His thoughts rushed, and seeing how short he was one time, he made a swift decision. “Tear the wall down right here, Bloodshed,” he commanded.
The skeleton listened. It held Freddy up with the single arm, as the two arms on the other side cocked back. A moment later, a resounding crash shook the world. The whiplash of the swing nearly pushed Freddy off the hand, but he managed to hold on to it.
The sounds of rubble collapsing echoed through the city, drowning out the screams for a long moment. And then it stopped. As the cloud of dust dissipated, a path through the wall was revealed.
“Good,” he said. “Now, dissipate as much blood mist as you can. The more monsters you can attract here, the better.”
And what about you, Master? the skeleton asked, the eyes shining beneath its hood intensifying in glow for a moment.
There was one place he was needed more than anywhere else.
A brief flicker of madness attracted his attention as he saw a hovering carriage park above the place where the building collapsed. A moment later, a figure leaped down. “The adjudicator…” Freddy muttered.
Judging from the brief flash of madness, the man had just done something insane. That could only mean one thing—whatever he had set out to fight was powerful. Enough to put his victory—and very life—in question.
Freddy had a terrible feeling about this.
For a moment, he wondered whether he should let Bloodshed despawn and then resummon it. But it was futile. He would need to recollect the blood necessary for the sacrifice. By the time he gathered enough to make Bloodshed strong enough to be of help, it would already be over, one way or another. Besides, it was better to have it siphon some of the monsters away from the civilians.
And while it did so, it could supply Freddy with an ungodly amount of healing. That would have to be enough.
He looked back to the collapsed building in the middle of the city, and the adjudicator who just made his landing. One thing was obvious. The man needed help. “Bloodshed,” Freddy called. “Throw me over there.”
Rather than question the absurd request, Bloodshed simply nodded and pulled its arm back.
Freddy checked himself over. He reconjured a Knuckle Blade on his right arm, and conjured double-starred Terror Knuckles on his left, the grisly spikes forming a nasty appendage over his fingers, its promise of pain whispering lunacy into the wind. He reformed his Crimson Wing Shields—double-starred—to make sure he had two charges of his blocking function.
His body was already covered in Crimson Dragon Scales, but they were a little damaged from all the traps he had run into. He briefly activated the regenerative subfunction of the ability, letting the small scratches heal fully. All of that had taken a bit less than a quarter of his essence. With Bloodshed committing a small-scale genocide here at the wall, he wouldn’t need to worry about running out of essence.
But he was at serious risk of plunging deep into a severe reflux essence overdose. Whatever he was about to fight, he knew he couldn’t hold back. If that was what he needed to do, then so be it. The healing from Bloodshed would be enough to keep him alive. Probably.
He extracted one of the mindguard pills from his storage ring, pulling his mask up to swallow it. He needed to protect his brain, because if it got hurt, he was at serious risk of losing a part of himself even if he healed the damage. Be it his memories or even his personality, brain damage could result in permanent harm. It wasn’t to be taken lightly.
“Twisted Pendulum,” Freddy muttered, triggering his spirit ability. With that, he had made the last of his preparations. “I’m ready.”
Good luck, Master.
In the next moment, he was flung at incredible speed, the penalty portion of Twisted Pendulum making it appear like he was flying twice as fast as he actually was. His flight over the city was short and turbulent, given he ended up spinning through the air on his way there.
Bloodshed’s aim wasn’t exactly perfect, and he ended up crashing into the side of a building. Even with his toughness, he ended up breaking several bones.
Sorry, Master, Bloodshed said as it swung its arm down, killing dozens of monsters and sending a flood of lifesteal his way, enough to undo the damage before he even crashed into the road below.
As soon as he made his landing, he leapt up to his feet, conjuring Sanguine Avenger. He was surrounded by numerous monsters, but with his full aura out, none of them were brave enough to lunge at him.
Given they were too weak to even distract him, he raised his gaze, looking over to the cloud of dust. Within it, loud crashing sounded every second, and several violent flashes of green light, like lightning in a storm, lit up the surroundings.
The fight is over there, he thought as the penalty part of Twisted Pendulum ended, and time sped up for him.
It was right on time, too, as in the next moment, a woman wearing black leather armor and holding two spears appeared from right behind a larger monster before him, charging at him with unbelievable speed, thrusting a half-crystal, half-metal spear at the spot right below his chin, aiming up at his brain—before he could even react, the hit landed crystal side first and pierced right through, only briefly slowed by his Crimson Dragon Scales.
What the fuck!?
His mind reeled as he rushed to react, and even with time moving at half speed, he only barely made it in time to grab the spear before it reached his brain.
He gripped it with a double-starred Hydraulic Flex, barely stopping the attack from finishing him off then and there. He felt the crystals grow out into thin, sharp spikes that embedded deeply into surrounding bone, forcefully lodging the spear in place before he could pull it out. Despite the immense agony this inflicted him with, he managed to keep his composure, yanking the spear out of the woman’s grasp and kicking in her direction to force her to back off, abandoning one of her spears.
The assailant’s square eyes narrowed at him as she followed up, swinging her second weapon at him from her right, but this time, he reacted and blocked it with his forearm shield, swinging out with his other hand using his knuckle blade before jumping back to create some distance between them.
She moved back just in time to evade Freddy’s counterattack, but he pressed on as he built some distance, using his superior speed to conjure a Blood Javelin and throwing it towards the center of her mass, but even with how quick and precise he was, she managed to deflect it enough to only receive a relatively minor injury to her side before immediately dashing right back towards him.
He quickly conjured Sanguine Avenger, grabbing it low to take a wide swing she couldn’t avoid. Without a moment of panic, she raised her spear to defend herself. The attack landed, and rather than the spear shattering like Freddy expected, he felt like he hit a cushion—somehow, the spear absorbed a good deal of the energy behind the attack, but not enough to fully save the woman from a minor shoulder and elbow injury, which he detected through the healing his talent sent his way, and sending her flying off into the crowd of monsters.
With that, the exchange was over, and Freddy’s speed was back to normal. He grabbed the spear that was still lodged in his skull and pulled with both hands, but before he could even take it out, it dissipated into essence. A moment later, Bloodshed crushed another dozen monsters, healing the injury left by the spear.
It took significantly more lifesteal than Freddy expected. His eyes narrowed. Whatever that attack was, the damage it left wasn’t simple.
He raised his guard, taking his opponent as seriously as she deserved to be taken. This person was a two-star, just like himself. Yet, her fighting skills and power were at a horrifying level. He’d seen the elites fight many times. This woman was easily at the level of a generational talent like Emily.
The woman didn’t let herself be knocked down for long. Or at all, actually. She landed on her feet, guard up, with another phantasmal copy of her spear appearing in her other hand.
He scowled at that. So she can make an exact copy of that spear?
That was a scary talent. The spear in question was a cursed item, and it seemed that the copies still retained full power. Thankfully, the spear wasn’t the most powerful cursed item he’d seen, not even close. But it was more than powerful enough for endless copies of it to be serious trouble.
Stopping, she evaluated him, not taking her eyes off his form for even a moment.
As the two of them stared each other down, the monsters around them finally took the hint and dispersed, going on their way. In the fight between these two, they were little more than collateral. With their instincts, they recognized that running was the superior choice.
Seeing her standing there, something finally clicked. Freddy scowled as he got a closer look at the woman. “I know you,” he declared. “This isn’t the first time we’ve met.”
Cocking her head at him, she smiled. “What a coincidence. I have to apologize, but the previous owner of this body is no longer with us.”
Freddy’s frown deepened. “Former owner?” The square-eyed woman was a bodysnatcher? But… “No… I don’t think that I met the ‘previous owner’…” He raised his sword a little higher, squinting at her. “You were there on that island.” Slightly panicked, he took a brief glance around him.
Thankfully, with his mask on, the woman didn’t know where he was looking, so she couldn’t use the opening to attack. “Is your friend here, too?” He remembered the short, cruel-looking man who wrote him off as dead without missing a beat. If that person was also here, Freddy was in trouble. After all, the two of them had managed to put pressure on Janhalar Kraven. Even now, Freddy was far from being on the level of a Lord in power.
“You…?” the woman muttered, before recognition finally descended on her features. “Ah, yes. You’re the one who killed that boy’s father.”
Freddy’s eyes widened. His eyes flickered over to where the adjudicator was fighting. “So it is Nahar, after all…”
A few things finally made sense to him. The Kraven Clan must have hunted these two down in the interspace, most likely mistakenly believing they were the ones who had killed their patriarch. Lucky for him, he supposed. But the consequences of that had been quite dire. This woman and the man with her were almost certainly the source of this entire ether virus.
For a brief moment, he wondered whether they were the true orchestrators of the whole thing, but that made no sense. This woman was only a two-star. She was most likely just another pawn to the true power behind everything.
The woman lowered her stance, raising her spear to point it at him. “If you’re worried about Kaefalge, you can relax. Even if he were here, I would not let him interfere in my fight. You are my prey.” Her eyes were wild, like that of an animal, as she took him in with all her being, her body language screaming out her desire to win. “What is your name?” she asked.
“Freddy Cliff,” he said, buying a few seconds to think.
“I am Firrita,” she declared. “Raise your guard!”
Freddy gritted his teeth. This was bad. He wasn’t even sure if he could beat this woman, let alone help the adjudicator. He couldn’t afford to hold anything back. Every second he wasted here was a moment closer to disaster. He needed a kill move. Something sure to win the fight as quickly as possible.
The woman crossed her weapons as she slid into a complex stance, her square-pupiled eyes bearing down on him. Then, with nothing but a faint blur of her moving to the left, her form vanished.
Going off nothing but the prickling on the side of his neck, he raised his forearm. In the next moment, a spear tip smashed into his shield, triggering the second charge of the blocking function, which briefly enveloped his entire body, just in time to hinder, but not stop, a second thrust right at his left knee.
He groaned as he reoriented himself, swinging Sanguine Avenger, which roared with the urge to pay the attack back, but he ended up missing as the woman slithered out of the way with effortless ease, sending two thrusts at his side, piercing his scales and leaving chunks of crystal embedded in his flesh, slowing his recovery.
He thrust his Knuckle Blade towards her, speeding up enough to force her to defend herself, but she simply raised the phantasmal copy of her spear, which shattered into essence, giving her the opening to back off and reset as he pulled away.
Bloodshed killed another dozen monsters. But even with that much healing, the injuries in his side and knee didn’t fully heal. Meanwhile, the woman conjured another copy of her weapon without a shred of strain, an easy, thrilled smile on her face.
It was only then that he realized he hadn’t felt a sliver of insanity from the woman’s attack. She might seem a bit crazy, but she wasn’t insane. In her eyes, attacking him carried little to no risk. In her eyes, she was going to win.
And, honestly, if he was being honest with himself, even he would bet on her. His grip tightened as he gritted his teeth. “God damn it.”
The idea of saving himself for Nahar was already completely out of his mind.
He had to fight this woman with all he had. His life depended on it.
Moving Sanguine Avenger to his off hand, he conjured a Blood Javelin. Golden lines ran down all his weapons, empowering them and making them far sturdier than they would be otherwise.
The two of them stood facing each other, the sounds of nearby crashing and distant screaming playing like macabre music in the background. It snowed rather heavily around them, but not enough to hinder their vision.
She moved again. This time, he caught her movement. He had no clue what ability this was, but somehow, she could massively accelerate herself in a direction of her choice. Seeing how she would strike from the right, Freddy released his Blood Javelin, letting it float in the air for a brief moment.
Making it seem like he would defend his side with his right forearm shield, he intentionally dropped it too low, creating an opening on his biceps. The woman unhesitantly leaped at it, stabbing her phantasmal spear into his flesh, and he brought his arm around it to tear it out of her grip.
Seeing how easy it was for her to conjure those spears, he wasn’t surprised when she suddenly let it go and accelerated back. What she didn’t expect was for him to throw Sanguine Avenger right in her direction. He could see in her eyes that the sudden attack caught her off-guard, and she moved to dodge aside, only to find the Blood Javelin flying right at her.
She was forced to defend with her real weapon. Freddy knew damn well how much force he could throw that thing with. His talent let him know that even if it was small, the strain of parrying the javelin had hurt the woman’s arms, furthering the previous wound on her shoulder as he charged at her, using the second charge of his Knuckle Blade to accelerate faster and close the distance.
The woman dodged the attack, countering by stabbing Freddy right through the chest. Despite the immense power behind her attack, his defense wasn’t something to scoff at. The spear reached his heart, but with the tissue from the giant Freddy had killed, it was too tough for her to pierce. Her shock was interrupted when a sudden burst of agony lit up her left arm.
Freddy’s Terror Knuckles inflicted an incredible amount of pain.
Although the woman didn’t scream out, the tension in her body was obvious. Freddy leapt at the sudden opening, kicking at her stomach, but even then, she had the wherewithal to continue stabbing, landing several quick but nasty wounds, one on his right shoulder, one on his neck, and one on his hip.
His kick landed, knocking her breath out and sending her flying, but with the hip injury, he knew he would have to wait for the healing before he could press the attack. Shit!
He had been about to use the blood shrapnel attack on her, which would have most likely won him the fight. Not only had she shut down his ability to chain another attack, the wound on his shoulder made him unable to use Tsunami Strike anyway, and the hole in his neck would have even killed him if he wasn’t such a tough bastard.
He had paid three prices for that one attack. Seeing how she was getting up to her feet without much trouble, he was forced to admit that he had lost the exchange.
Another bout of healing came, and Freddy felt numerous crystal fragments being ejected from the many wounds he’d received. It was a painful process, as more of them seemed to have embedded into his bones. And they seemed to be fighting against being pushed out.
As soon as she was up, she conjured another spear, sending it flying at him. With his hip injury, he couldn’t move entirely out of the way, earning himself a pretty nasty leg wound which cracked his femur. Rather than lunge back in, the woman kept throwing spears, each of them cornering him in an unexpected way. Even those he managed to block knocked him further off balance.
He tried retaliating with javelins of his own, but his many injuries drastically reduced his power, allowing her to effortlessly dodge his attempts.
He was taking way too much damage. If this kept up, his fight would end here.
It was at that moment that something primal within him took over. The shadows in the dreams he had during the Century of Solitude had cornered him many times. At this point, suicidal last-ditch attacks were muscle memory for him.
He leaned forward as if he were about to fall on his face.
She noticed that something was off and prepared to get out of the way, but it wasn’t enough. In the next moment, Freddy’s foot exploded with a sudden double-starred Tsunami Strike, which launched him straight at her. “Leviathan’s Fury!” he shouted.
Every bone in his body bent and cracked, sending a draconic set of jaws the woman’s way. She crossed her arms and cast a double-starred ability that covered her entire body in crystal. Despite the fact it cracked apart under the powerful jaws of bone, it wasn’t enough to kill her.
But it did lock her in place.
Freddy’s bones retracted into his body, leaving him standing there and revealing the ball of blood metal he had prepared in his hands. Most of his body was useless, but that wasn’t enough to stop him. He dropped the ball, preparing to sacrifice his second foot with another Tsunami Strike.
Suddenly, Freddy’s foot exploded, just a moment before the attack connected. “What!?” he sputtered, watching the coiling bladed whip pull back as he fell to the ground. A moment later, a powerful kick landed on his ribs, crushing them into dust as he flew into a concrete wall with enough force to crack it apart.
What the hell is—
He looked down.
Standing right beside the woman was a twisted figure and a familiar beacon of madness. The same he’d felt all that time ago, back when this whole thing started.
Nahar cocked his head at Freddy. “You’re still alive? Holy shit, man! What a physique!” He grinned, pulling the bladed whip back, aiming it right at Freddy’s head. “Now die.”
Just barely, with all the willpower he could muster, Freddy managed to pull his head down and out of the way of the blow. The snap of the whip cracked something wicked, bursting with enough power to send massive cracks running up the side of the building; the sound alone nearly deafened Freddy, while tiny bits of concrete embedded into his skin all over his head, shoulders, and upper back. I have to run!
Both his feet were mangled, but even then, as soon as his left touched the ground, he leaped back, aiming for a window in the building and bursting through it. Inside, he launched another Tsunami Strike up into the ceiling, putting himself into critically low essence territory. The explosion rocked the building, and added to the damage Nahar previously inflicted, it started collapsing the building.
Through all that chaos, somehow, the woman still managed to throw a spear, hitting him right into the left shoulder, and Nahar’s whip snaked around the debris, cutting a brutal rent down his back. If it weren’t for the burst of healing courtesy of Bloodshed just a moment later, his life would have been forfeit.
With an angry shout, he rushed forward through the collapsing building, jumping through a window on the other side and onto the street, immediately turning to run.
Then, the wall exploded behind him.
Freddy turned, spotting the twisted face of Nahar grinning at him as the man ran through the wall like it was made of plywood and not solid concrete. He was surrounded by an aura of red mist. Blood Rush!? Freddy realized. He has access to two types of blood!?
But before he could finish being shocked at the display, Nahar’s arm pooled with sizzling liquid, which he swung forward, splashing it against Freddy’s form and melting straight through most of his armor on that side of his body. Three types!?
Nahar, still grinning, pulled his blood whip back, and this time, the strike hit Freddy right into his unprotected midsection. With a violent crack that echoed through his entire body, he watched the attack nearly bisect him at his waist, leaving little more than loose, fraying tissue to keep his upper half and lower half together.
It was a feeling all too familiar to Freddy, from the many nightmares he’d had during his century of solitude. The feeling of his time coming to an end.
But this time, there would be no waking up.
Before he could even fully process what was happening, something pulled at his arm. He briefly saw the adjudicator, clad in a uniform and wearing a strange mask as he prepared to throw Freddy away, far from the fight. “Just run!”
The man’s throw held enough power to throw Freddy over another building. And it took just enough time for Nahar to use the opening, landing a hit on the back of the adjudicator’s hand, shattering it completely.
Freddy’s mind froze as he flew away from the site of the battle, the two parts of his body barely holding together as he made a rough landing, rolling over through the front of a shop and crushing several tables in the small cafe. There, he saw three monsters tearing apart nondescript bodies, with little more than half a woman’s face remaining around raw gore, locked in an expression of terror.
One that was no doubt mirrored in Freddy’s own.
For a long few seconds, he simply remained there, powerless to do anything but wait for Bloodshed to do enough damage for his talent to heal away the immense amount of damage he’d taken. But even as his two halves fused back together, he could barely muster the strength to return to his feet. “I have to…” he muttered, failing to find the words to piece together.
What could he even do at this point?
The adjudicator was certain to lose. There was no saving the people, be it from Nahar or the tide of monsters coming from both sides. Gritting his teeth, he shouted as he forced himself up to his feet. “Get over yourself!” He stabbed himself in his thigh with the Knuckle Blade, hoping the pain would help break him out of the spiral his thoughts were going down. “It’s not over yet!”
Rushing to his feet, he charged down the street, killing what monsters he ran into as he completed healing his body, the pain of crystal shards refusing to leave his bones hanging over his head as a constant reminder of his weakness as he headed right in the direction of the defenders making their final stand.
***
“Hold them back! Dear god, just hold them back!” a commander shouted desperately as he thrust his spear through a monster’s skull, doing little to nothing to raise the crumbling morale of the defenders holding the line.
Civilians were being pulled back, pushed towards the wall and hopefully to the other side, as uncountable monsters charged from deeper within the city, flooding the defenders.
Lucas swung his halberd around, fueled by nothing but despair at the seemingly neverending tide of monsters coming towards them, trying anything not to think about the fact that another such tide was preparing to come from the other side.
Another massive crash resounded through the world, shaking the ground, as the bloody skeleton swung its arm down, taking another small horde of monsters out, doing more on its own than all the other defenders put together.
Seeing the sheer density of the monsters coming their way, Lucas knew he had no choice. Gritting his teeth with resolve, he triggered his ascension. He felt the second star form in his soul, and then, the touch of another affinity trying to settle into his soul. He thoughtlessly accepted the metal affinity, ignoring it because he had no idea how to use it, and this wasn’t exactly the right time to learn.
A small rush of natural-quality healing patched a number of open wounds he sported, but doing little for the broken ring finger on his left hand and cracked forearm bones on his right arm.
His talent evolved. Its nature remained almost the same, but with the amount of latent aura he’d accumulated, the difference in power was light and day. He felt himself drastically speeding up, the momentum of the unwieldy halberd easing as the weapon whistled through the air nearly thrice as quickly as before.
With a mad shout, he double-starred Cerebrospinal Vortex, feeling the world around him slow down even more, but at the cost of nearly blinding him in his left eye. Ignoring the head-bursting headache that threatened to split his skull apart, he charged forward, culling monsters by the dozens as he ensured that every single strike killed.
The latent power that had been locked his body was slowly waking up. It wasn’t nearly enough to recover all the power Freddy’s original body had, but even replicating just a small portion of it was enough to make a difference.
He turned into a blur of action.
For a brief, glorious moment, they started to push the monsters back.
The three-star mercenary trio hired by Freddy put on quite a show as numerous blood-red vines spread out across the battlefield, curses attached to crossbow bolts flew out, and illusions guided monsters right into their own deaths.
Everyone was pushing with everything they had. The trio of mercenaries were holding strong, but everyone else was starting to wane.
Lucas was worn down. He couldn’t maintain the double-starred Cerebrospinal Vortex for long as he rapidly ran out of the last of his essence. Then, just like that, the relief transformed into terror.
The monsters crashed into the line of defense with renewed vigor, many of them leaping over the defenders and rushing the civilians instead, their screams echoing all around them.
“Someone pull back and defend the—” the commander tried, but in the instant his focus was pulled away, a deviant fox monster leaped at him, tearing his throat out with its fangs before killing two others.
Something critical suddenly broke. Within moments, the defensive line was overwhelmed, forcing everyone back towards the civilians as they fought a retreating battle, doing everything in their power to stop from losing more ground.
At that moment, Lucas was tempted to turn around and run. But he gripped the halberd instead. “Fucking die!” he shouted loud enough to be heard a quarter-way across the city as he swung the halberd spike-down into the skull of a charging monster. And then the deviant fox monster appeared, tearing a large rent across his left forearm.
He ignored it, thrusting the halberd spear tip at it instead, and killing it. Something bit his leg, but he ignored that, too. He wasn’t sure what the sudden sense of cold in his left side was coming from, but the blood pouring down his leg was proof that it was nothing good.
Bit by bit, he felt his awareness wane. But at that moment, as he raised the halberd a final time, taking another monster down with him, he felt at peace. He snorted. “I don’t mind dying a man like this.”
And then, several monsters around him suddenly exploded. Lucas looked up, spotting a figure in white, a cracked golden mask covering their face. “Freddy?”
***
Freddy held the Sanguine Avenger, having just swung it to clear out several monsters. “Shit!” he shouted at the sight of the near-dead Lucas. Before the man could say anything, Freddy picked him up, slinging his massive form over his shoulder and charging back towards the civilians.
He killed several monsters that were on their way to the mortals. Once he made it to the civilians, he dropped Lucas on the ground and turned around. Taking a deep breath, he conjured the crimson ball of solid blood. He winced as he felt himself go past his reflux tolerance, the blood in his veins turning toxic as he raised the sphere. He waited for three seconds, just enough for the last defender to get out of range.
And then, with a double-starred Tsunami Strike, he punched the sphere of blood.
The resounding explosion shattered windows all down the street as the dense cloud of shrapnel took out well over a hundred monsters, turning the already grim sight into a scene of pure, raw carnage.
Several defenders released cheers of joy, their morale returning from the brink at the sight of Freddy standing there. “We’re saved!” a fool shouted. “The city lord is here!” another echoed. “Reform the lines.”
Meanwhile, Freddy continued standing there, watching the monsters hesitating to charge, but gathering for another wave, nonetheless. His blood burned in his veins something wicked. He had just barely crossed the threshold of his tolerance, and already, he was feeling like he would die if Bloodshed stopped supplying him with healing. Even just another 5% essence over the limit, and he wasn’t sure he’d live.
He could no longer use his blood affinity.
His water affinity, with its far higher tolerance, was still a bit away from hitting its limit, but it was quickly getting there, especially with all the Tsunami Strikes he’s been throwing out.
A crack of lightning caught his attention, and Georgie burst from a small side-street, charred monster parts scattering around her. She turned to face him, her expression distressed. She was no fool. More likely than not, she was already well aware of how dire things were. Several people rushed from behind her, joining their group for the illusion of safety in numbers.
Freddy looked deep into Georgie’s eyes, and even with his mask on, the question got through to her. Are you going to flee? Frankly, he wouldn’t judge her if she did. He was close to running, himself. In fact, he wasn’t even sure what exactly was stopping him.
In return, Georgie shot him a shit-eating grin as she straightened her back. She shrugged.
He chuckled to himself. They were in the same boat, it seemed.
There was no need for words between them as they raised their weapons and turned to the gathering monsters. As if waiting for the cue, the mass of beasts finally rushed them.
Freddy charged. His Sanguine Avenger tore through flesh with absolute ease, the months of practice he had backing every attack he threw out. It wasn’t enough. Monsters were flowing past him like liquid. He started letting hits through, just so that he could hit harder with his Sanguine Avenger. It again wasn’t enough.
But he wasn’t alone. The defenders behind him fought with greater madness than the beasts they were facing.
Freddy didn’t know what he was hoping for. A miracle, perhaps? Deep down, he was slowly starting to come to terms with the fact he was about to die. It was a bitter feeling. No small part of him demanded he turn and flee. He had fought so hard. Too hard. Was it wrong of him to want to live a little? If everyone was going to die anyway, did it matter?
The minutes dragged on. Every dozen seconds, a new group of defenders appeared from a side street, every patch of survivors slowly making their way to where Bloodshed was, using the giant skeleton as a beacon of hope, the promise of salvation. Every new person patched another hole in the defense, their despair fueling a final stand that proved more effective than anyone had any right to expect.
What seemed like an endless tide of monsters soon started to thin. Eventually, the monsters realized they were too few, and started backing away. Beasts or not, these weren’t dumb creatures. They valued their own lives, and the meat grinder the defenders had created wasn’t something they were eager to jump into.
When they realized the monsters had stopped coming, countless people broke into cheers of joy and relief. Meanwhile, Freddy and Georgie simply stood there, in silence, the weight of the crisis they were facing only growing.
The only way to turn things around was for the adjudicator to create a miracle.
And, unfortunately, it seemed that no such miracle would come.
A figure came blazing down the street at an incredible speed, surrounded by a potent white haze, before coming to a stumbling stop and collapsing in a pile of limbs right before Freddy and Georgie.
The two of them looked down to the broken form of the adjudicator. The man’s entire left arm was mangled, even if the suit was barely rumpled, a testament to the durability of the armor. His mask, however, was half-melted by acid, the judge’s face showing heavy burns underneath. He stumbled up to his feet, blood trickling down his crushed arm as he struggled to breathe.
Freddy looked at the man, a pit of despair forming in his stomach. The adjudicator was doing nothing to conceal his aura. A much, much weaker aura, one powered by only three stars. The man had used a spirit ability, boosting his speed in turn for losing a star. And judging by his state, it still wasn’t enough.
Releasing a hollow chuckle, the man stumbled, nearly falling as he took an involuntary step closer to the duo before him. “I did what I could.” His jaw clenched as he looked on the verge of tears. “The bastard was toying with me the whole time. Even with the spirit ability, I could barely keep up with him.” His right arm reached over to his mangled left, and he clutched his sleeve. “It cost me an arm, my weapon, and every shred of essence I had, and all I could do was slow him down a little. He’ll be coming soon.”
Eyes flashing open, Freddy looked down the road the adjudicator had come from. “How soon?”
The adjudicator scowled. “Minutes.”
Freddy fumbled for his ring, taking his communication device out. “Sophia!” he tried calling, but she didn’t answer. He bit his lips. If she was here, she could perhaps raise the flesh golem as an undead. Whether that would even do anything, he had no idea. “Sophia!” he shouted loudly. “Fuck!” He put the device down. “Does anyone know where Emily is!?”
“Fled, most likely,” the adjudicator said. “I’ve lost contact with her.”
A crack sounded out, and Freddy glanced down to find his communication device falling to the ground in pieces. “Shit!” His breathing sped up. The blood domain! he thought as he focused. However, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t enter it. “God fucking damn it!” He threw what was left of the device at the ground and looked around with eyes wide open. Turning to face Bloodshed, he asked, “Why can’t I enter it!?”
The skeleton remained impassive for a moment, before the bloody skull drooped slightly. You need to calm down and focus, Master.
“Okay…” he sat down on the floor and took deep breaths, trying to bring himself into a meditative state. It wasn’t working.
Master… Bloodshed called cautiously. You are more likely to die than find anything of use. Even then, should you be successful, the odds of finding something immediately useful are low.
“Shut up!” he shouted. “Shut up, just… shut up!”
The skeleton appeared to sigh mentally.
Even as he tried to push those thoughts away, he knew the skeleton was right. “God damn it…” He slowly turned around.
There, a line of frightened and confused defenders looked on, expectantly waiting for an answer. A deep sense of shame pierced straight through his gut as he looked away, unable to meet their gazes.
For a long moment, he stood frozen, thinking of anything they could do. With fleeting minutes left, there wasn’t a single thing that came to mind. Resummon Bloodshed? Not enough time. Sophia wasn’t picking up. Emily had run away. The adjudicator was severely hurt and a star down.
The only thing that came to mind was an Unholy Blessing with a big sacrifice, but even then, what good would that do? He could barely even use essence anymore. The wicked face of Nahar grinning at him flashed in his mind, his speed and power clearly far above anything Freddy could achieve, even if he sacrificed his sight, hearing, and every damn limb and organ he had.
“I have to run…” he muttered suddenly. “I don’t want to die…” His breathing came ragged.
He had faced death many times before. But this was different. Every time before, he had no choice. He was cornered, forced to fight with all he had. He didn’t have time to think about it. It had been do or die.
But now?
There was a choice.
Either let all these people die.
Or die with them.
Logically speaking, there wasn’t a single reason to stay.
He slowly got to his feet, suddenly breaking into a fit of laughter. “Damn it all!” He pulled his hood back, took the mask off, and clutched a handful of his hair hard enough to tear some of it out. Turning to face the adjudicator, he said, “You were more fair to me than I ever expected you to be.
“But giving me this city was a dick move.” His expression was bitter. “Sure, I wasn’t pressured. But we both know damn well I had no real choice. You’ve successfully tied me to the empire, I guess. Good job. And now I’m the one responsible for the lives of these people. If I walk away now, I will never live another moment in peace.”
The adjudicator simply looked on, his gaze dropping slightly, having nothing to say.
Freddy turned towards the crowd, eyes scouting for a certain individual.
“What are you going to do?” Georgie asked.
He smiled bitterly in response. “There you are. Sting!” he shouted the name of the three-star mercenary support he’d hired.
The man walked out of the crowd with a sigh. Freddy shot him an ugly grin. “One Final Resort, please.” He paused. “And the rest of you—run. I’ll buy some time.”
“You…” Georgie said… her expression darkened. “You don’t have to do this.”
“And what else do you suggest?” He snipped.
“Run,” the adjudicator said suddenly. “This situation is hopeless.” He clenched his injured arm tighter. “If anyone is to blame for this, it is the empire.” Slightly deflating, he muttered, “If you need someone to blame, blame me. I could have fought harder to get them to act. I could have pressured the mercenaries more. I could have spent the money wiser. There is no reason for you to feel guilty about any of this. You’re still young. Run, and live.”
Freddy took a step towards the adjudicator, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him in, a livid look in his eyes. “Motherfucker, it’s way too late for that. Look.” He pointed at the crowd. “Just look at them. Look at the hope in their eyes. Look over there.” Freddy pointed at a young boy no older than six, being cradled in his father’s arms.
The man looked on with wide eyes, as if he wasn’t even mentally present, his face splattered with blood, as he simply rocked his sobbing child, trying to calm him down. The boy’s leg, from the knee down, was missing, clearly bitten off. A tourniquet was tied tightly to stop the bleeding, but it did little to calm the child’s panic, his pained sobs coming out hoarse, his voice failing.
The adjudicator took a single glance at the scene, and immediately recoiled, turning away.
“Why did you look away?” Freddy asked, tugging on the man’s collar. “Huh? Why did you look away? Hard to watch, is it!?” he shouted, grabbing him with the other hand as well as he let his Sanguine Avenger fall to the ground. “Look at me; there is nothing you can say to me at this moment to clear my conscience.” Roughly shoving the man away, he turned to face Sting again. “I don’t have any other choice.”
“I’ll come with you,” Georgie insisted.
“No. You won’t,” Freddy clipped. “No offense, but you won’t be much help. I’ll have Bloodshed backing me up. It’s better for you to help everyone else get as far away as possible. Now”—he turned to face Sting—”what are you waiting for?”
Sting looked sick to the stomach, but he reached out anyway. But before he could put an Unholy Blessing on Freddy, Freddy caught the man’s arm. “Triple-starred.”
The man’s eyes widened. “That will push me way past my unholy affinity RETI.”
Freddy squeezed the man’s arm enough for it to creak. “Dude, I’m going to go kill myself so you can run.” He stared pointedly at the man, needing to say nothing more.
Sting looked away in shame. “You’re right. Sorry.” His soul lit up with three stars, and a heavy unholy essence washed over Freddy.
Freddy felt the energy coil around him, its presence deeply unsettling. It practically screamed at him, demanding a sacrifice. He pushed its demands aside, waiting for the right moment to offer it up.
Sting groaned in pain as he doubled over and fell to the ground.
His leader, the bulky porter John, ran over with a dark expression on his face. He kneeled before the screaming Sting, whose face was rapidly being covered by angry looking hives. “You! This is a violation of—”
Freddy kicked the man in the nose, sending him stumbling back. “Go shove rusty rebar up your ass, John.” Freddy turned to the adjudicator. “Might be petty for a last wish, but please bury his company in lawsuits when I’m gone.”
“Please wait,” Sting, gritting his teeth against the pain of reflux essence overflow pushed himself up into a seated position as he placed his hand on Freddy’s leg. A moment later, three stars lit up in his soul again, and Freddy felt a heavy protective aura wash over him, the holy-affinity blessing drastically boosting Freddy's durability.
“Thank you for doing this. You’re a good man,” Sting eked out, turning to face his companion. “This was my choice. Just drop it.” Suddenly, he passed out from the pain of crossing two reflux essence tolerances, dark spots appearing across his skin.
John got back up to his feet and then slowly bent over to pick Sting up. He gave Freddy a sour look, before briefly nodding his head in acknowledgement and turning away, keeping his words to himself.
Freddy turned around, slowly pulling the hood back over his head and putting his cracked mask back on. For a long moment, he hesitated, tempted to give up and run.
Instead, he stepped forward, getting the attention of every innocent person waiting on his word. He took a moment to take it all in, trying to take some pride in giving these people a chance. Nothing but a hollow ache echoed back at him.
“I never wanted any of this,” he shouted, making sure everyone there could hear him. “I never wanted any of this at all.” His head lowered. “I just wanted to live a life worth living. For a long time, I fought very hard. I have the money, the looks, the power to live the life from my dreams. But I won’t get the chance to do so.” Pause. “That… it’s really never going to happen, is it? Shit. I could maybe say something cool and heroic, but I’ll just be honest, instead.
“Fuck every single one of you.” He raised both middle fingers at the crowd. “I hope you all carry my death on your conscience for the rest of your lives. Now screw off before I change my mind.” He fumbled around with shaky hands, taking the communication watch from his storage ring. He pinged an area, and then passed the watch to the adjudicator. “I’ve cleared some monsters in this area. They should be a bit thinner there. Now go.”
Freddy turned to the rest of the people, who were waiting, clearly confused as to what was happening. “Just go! Run!” Rather than waste more time on explaining things, he gestured to the adjudicator to take care of it, and then turned around. Blooshed, he called mentally, trying to calm himself down long enough to think of what to even say.
Honestly, he didn’t know what to tell the skeleton.
What this fight would look like—if it even ended up being much of a fight at all—he didn’t know. So he opted to simply trust Bloodshed’s judgement, instead. Just help me out, okay?
Its eyes flashed a deep shade of red. As you wish, Master.
He snorted. Back when he entered the primordial blood domain, it had begged him not to do it again, for fear of what would happen to him. And yet now it said nothing. Did it perhaps have faith they could win somehow?
“Who knows?” Squaring his shoulders, Freddy growled, taking a heavy step forward. “It’s not over yet.”
The sounds of the people finally getting the memo and turning to flee the city started behind him. A moment later, a hand gripped his shoulder. He turned around angrily, ready to shout at whoever it was, only to find Georgie offering him a sealed box. “Take it,” she said. “There’s a syringe in there. Combat drug. Your body will eat itself to fuel the effect. It should help you close the gap. It will take a minute or two to kick in, so don’t stall.” She gave his shoulder a tight squeeze. “Give him hell.”
Freddy gave her a strained smile. “Get at least some of them out, if you can. Don’t let me die for nothing. Please.”
She nodded, turning around in a hurry to follow the others.
Left standing alone, Freddy slowly opened the box. It indeed had a very scary looking syringe in there. It was like whoever designed it wanted the user to really ask themselves if they were sure they wanted to do this.
Sighing, he slowly pulled it out, taking off in a run. Once he got close enough to feel Nahar’s aura in the distance, he stopped, taking a deep breath. The man had likely already sensed him, and it wouldn’t be long before they met up.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled his hood down and injected it straight into his neck. Immediately, he felt his body heat spike as the drug got to work. He chuckled nervously. If this was what it felt like before it kicked in…
Slowly, he turned to face the vision of the unholy blessing he’d been given.
It took the form of a mangy cat-slash-snake thing that coiled around his body, its mad face resting inches away from his face as it eagerly waited for him to get on with it and just make the sacrifice already.
For a moment, he contemplated what he was going to give up. Before long, he collected an extensive list of things he’d be willing to part with. One eye, his hearing, his organs, an arm—anything that would add more power to the blessing was welcome.
As he thought about it, a deep, burning anger sparked inside of him. He hated this. With his entire being, he despised being in this situation. And at that moment, there was only one thing he could direct that anger at.
If he was going to do this, then he would make that bastard suffer.
Ignoring the burning pain coursing through his veins, he conjured double-starred Terror Knuckles on both hands. They were cheap enough that the backlash wouldn’t kill him. And they hurt like a bitch to get hit by.
He felt a pang of pain shoot down the side of his body. The unholy blessing couldn’t be postponed forever. If he didn’t get started, it would dissipate, and the backlash would inflict him with numerous miscellaneous curses, same as going over the unholy affinity RETI.
“Okay… I sacrifice—” He opened his mouth, about to start listing off his sacrifices, when a glorious, insane idea suddenly crossed his mind. And he could tell it was insane. It was crazy to the point that the world around him shivered, recoiling at the very thought of doing this.
Would that even work? he wondered. From what he knew, it was basically a death sentence. As in, he would immediately explode into a million gory bits if he tried doing it. But he had faith in his durability. And he had received a pretty potent durability blessing from Sting, too.
His body might just be able to handle it. A completely unhinged smile split his face apart as he chuckled to himself. Just maybe…
It would cut off access to his talent, as well as every ability he had. But that was the thing with unholy blessings—the bigger the sacrifice, the greater the power he would gain. And this might very well be the greatest sacrifice he could possibly make.
He reached into his storage ring, and took out two mindguard pills. Using two at the same time would undoubtedly come with unwanted side-effects, but it was better than having his brain burnt to a crisp.
Ignoring the piercing headache, he slowly turned, coming face-to-face with the embodiment of the Final Resort waiting on his offer.
The crazed cat demon met his gaze, but the sheer madness behind it cowed the spell itself, making it slowly back away from him. “What are you waiting for?” Freddy asked.
A thrilled grin spread across its face as it inched back.
“Take it,” he said, his lips shivering as he finally made his offer.
“My soul.”