Druvak's army wins, but his battle with Armaror still rages on.
Clank!
Their blades clash in a shower of sparks. Armaror's drake lunges, its massive jaws snapping shut on empty air as Druvak effortlessly creates distance.
Druvak's gaze flicks to his victorious forces, then back to his foe. "See, Armaror? Your army falls like a sandcastle crumbling before the sea."
"Hmph… The weak have no right to live," Armaror scoffs, digging his heels into his mount. "If they die fighting, it is a worthy end. Those left behind, I would kill myself." He gives a sharp tap to the drake's scaled back.
The beast charges. Druvak tilts his neck, the bones cracking softly. He tightens his grip on his sword and settles into a low stance. "Let's end this war."
The drake barrels toward him, maw gaping. Druvak sidesteps with unnatural grace, but Armaror is already there, his twin crimson swords slashing down. Druvak parries one blade and in the same motion, his own sword flashes out, severing both of the drake's front legs.
The creature crashes to the ground with an earth-shaking thud, throwing Armaror clear. The Duke tumbles through the air and slams into a giant standing stone, which cracks from the impact before collapsing into a pile of rubble on top of him.
The maimed drake struggles pitifully, dragging its massive body with its remaining limbs, its roars becoming desperate calls for its master. "Roar!"Roar!"
Rumble Rumble
The debris shifts. Armaror erupts from the pile of stone, his eyes wild, and sprints toward his fallen mount. Druvak simply raises his sword.
"Roar!" "Roar—"
The call is cut short as Druvak's blade cleaves through the drake's neck in one merciless swing.
"Nooo! "
Armaror skids to a halt, falling to his knees beside the severed head. He cradles it, his body shaking with silent sobs. Druvak watches, his voice cold. "You show no mercy to others because they are weak, and now you weep for a monster that treated living beings as toys?"
Armaror's head snaps up. His eyes glow a vicious red, his muscles bulging and swelling. Hot, angry steam jets from his nostrils with every ragged breath. He gently lays the drake's head down, retrieves his fallen swords, and rises.
He says nothing. With a guttural scream of pure rage, he charges like a wild beast.
Druvak meets the assault head-on. Their blades become a blur, the only evidence of their exchange the constant shower of sparks and the deafening clang of metal on metal. Even in the frenzy, Druvak's mind is ice-calm, analysing, searching for an opening. 'His Wraith innate ability is active. His power grows with his anger.'
Druvak pushes deeper, calling upon his Weapon Divinity. His blade seems to sharpen itself, his movements becoming impossibly fluid and precise. He rises to his full height, deliberately takes a powerful blow on his sword to stop his advance, and uses the impact to launch himself backwards.
He closes his eyes. The flickering blue flame within his chest cavity stills, burning with a steady, intense light. The sapphire gem set in his armour gleams with a piercing blue radiance.
ROAR!!! Armaror charges again. Druvak's eyes remain shut. He just holds his sword, firm and ready. Armaror leaps high, both swords raised overhead for a devastating, twin strike.
'Gentle Wind Sword Style,' Druvak murmurs.
In the blink of an eye, he is behind Armaror. He gracefully sheathes his sword.
Armaror's momentum carries him forward. He tries to turn, to charge again. But Druvak doesn't move. As Armaror's swords are about to find their mark, his own arms and head slide cleanly from his body and thud to the ground.
Druvak raises a fist to the sky. "We have won the battle!" The entire army answers with a triumphant roar."Ooooohhh!!!"
"Everyone, charge the castle!!!" Druvak commands. His forces flood through the broken gates. But the victory cheer dies in their throats, replaced by a stunned, sickened silence.
A putrid stench of rotten flesh, old blood, and decay hangs thick in the air. The path is littered with bones of demonic, humanoid, and some heartbreakingly small.
Mia advances, her hand clamped over her mouth. Her foot catches on something and she stumbles. Looking down, she sees it: the half-eaten head of a demon baby, its eyes and mouth frozen in a silent scream, dried tear trails etching lines through the dirt on its cheeks.
She can't handle it. Stumbling to a corner, she rips her mask off and vomits. *Burgh
Gasping for air, she looks up and freezes. Half-eaten demon children and infants hang upside down from ropes, their blood dripping slowly onto the stones below. Her legs give out. She collapses, eyes wide, a cold sweat drenching her. Her hand lands on something soft and small. She looks. It's a tiny, severed hand. *Aaaahhh!!!
Her scream echoes through the courtyard. Geo and Druvak are at her side in an instant. "What happened!?"
Geo is also stunned into silence by the grotesque sight. Druvak creates two orbs of calming, golden divine energy in his hands and presses them to their foreheads. The energy spreads, steadying their shattered nerves. "Hold yourselves," he says, his voice low and grave. "What you see is only a glimpse of their madness."
"You are elite commanders. If you fall, who will steady your units? Rise."
Nodding shakily, Mia and Geo rise and move to regroup their soldiers. Druvak turns to the hanging corpses. He bows deeply. "Please forgive us. I promise you all a proper funeral."
Through his ability to sense sin, fleeting, horrific images flash in his mind: Armaror using these very children as live feed for his drakes, as playthings. Druvak's grip on his sword's hilt tightens until his knuckles are white, his teeth gritted in fury.
As he returns to his troops, a soldier approaches him. The man's face is ashen, his legs trembling. "Sir… I-I found—... I think you need to… see this."
Druvak knows, with a sinking dread, that whatever awaits is worse than what they've already witnessed. He follows the soldier alone to the castle's backyard. The man opens a heavy door, revealing a staircase descending into the earth.
The room below is vast and pitch black. A faint, sickening squelching sound echoes, and the floor is flooded with a strange, viscous liquid. Druvak and the soldier light torches and advance cautiously toward the noise.
After a few steps, the flickering light reveals a nightmarish sight: a deformed, half-formed chimera floats in a large incubation tube.
Druvak draws his sword, holding it in a ready stance as he moves deeper into the chamber.
They reach a wall. The soldier points a shaking finger. "Sir… look, torches."
Druvak looks. He summons a small flame in his palm and hurls it. It strikes the first sconce, and a chain reaction occurs. One by one, torches around the massive chamber flare to life.
The light reveals the full, horrifying extent of the room. Hundreds of incubation tubes line the walls, each holding a twisted, malformed chimera. And in the centre looms a colossal tube, forty-five feet long, containing a monstrous fusion with three heads of lion, wolf, and orc, a titan's body, tentacled arms, and a serpentine lower half.
High above, a cage hangs from the ceiling. Inside, bipedal chimeras scramble over each other, their eyes vacant, their minds utterly, irreparably broken.