The bottom lurched out of my stomach as I took a sharp turn, drowning out the sound of clamouring soldiers right behind me and the grating sound of their unsheathed weapons as it struck the walls, barrels and stray boxes while following me.
Snuffing out even the miniscule embers of animosity and blocking out every last drop of Arcanum flowing through or spilling out of my body, I tried to lose the men that had spotted me atop the "Black Pit," and were now chasing me after discovering Birta and Gunnar's corpses.
"Alert General Ed. A human has infiltrated The Keep." A Dwarf with two small axes in each hand barked orders at the bald Troll right behind him and then looked at the couple dozen lanky Dwarves-each carrying a knife, "And you lot, go into Lord Cromwell's chambers. Alert him as well."
"Gotcha chief!" The band of juvenile Dwarves all roared in tandem before breaking off from the group and running away.
"You, you and you, come with me." He pointed at the three Demons that were standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him.
"We don't take orders from a filthy mutt." The demon with jet black hair and a pair of goat-like horns replied with a defiant smirk. "Don't think just because you refined General Ed's Nightcrackle, you can order us around." Crouching down to his eye level, he seethed. "You're a Dwarf. Act like one."
It was only when he mentioned the General's name again and the weapon refinement was when a few things clicked.
The Dwarf — who was referring to the other man as sire a few hours ago — was also named Ed. And Ed was also the name of the old woman's son that was about to be executed.
But what was more important was what Ed said to the Dwarf—Brogan.
'I am already in a bad mood because of that old bat wandering off without telling me.'
That means the old woman was related to Ed and in extension, lying. But why would she pose like that? Like a vulnerable old woman.
What was her purpose?
I expelled those troubling intrusive thoughts with a shake of my head, trying to not feel their weight press down on me. Leaning wearily against the wall, I pressed my back into its cool and damp surface, my muscles tense due to the effort of tightly holding my breath.
The small pack of Demons walked right past as I slid further into the shadow. I didn't have much idea about their capabilities. And fighting them in packs was even more dangerous than just taking on them one by one.
As the Dwarf pivoted his weight backwards before taking off, I let out a heavy, shaky breath before running again.
I tried to be as discreet as humanly possible, making as little noise as I could.
Prudently measuring my steps, I navigated the labyrinthine maze of shops and houses. Before long, I was already at the place where I had left Michael.
Bolting towards the door of the pub, I pushed the double doors open.
The left door got out of its hinge and dangled to the side. As I stepped in, I felt my eyes go wide and my lips curve into a deep frown.
The entirety of the pub had circled around Michael as he was standing there without his robe.
His horns stood long and proud, starting from his temples. His white shirt's buttons were undone, revealing half of his chest and his sleeves were pulled up to his elbows.
My entrance brought a sudden halt to the wild cheering and every head was now turned in my direction.
Michael was standing with a wide grin over his face, his golden eyes plastered as he wobbled. His hand was a bloody mess, dripping with a mix of red and blue viscous liquid as he stood atop a Troll's limp, gargantuan body, his one foot over its chest and the other over its face.
He looked in my direction and then extended his arms sideways, standing in a rather weird posture with his upper body bent backwards.
"Bet on me, *hic* fuckface!"
I didn't want to but still facepalmed.
This guy actually participated in a bare-knuckle back-street betting in an enemy territory.
I have conflicted feelings about this one.
Should I be angry, or should I be in awe? I can't tell. But it would be an understatement that I am surprised by his lack of tact.
"Come on, Michael. It's time for bed." I spoke in an informal way, acting as he was my friend. "I am sorry but I have to take my friend back. We have to work early in the morning." Running in his direction and grabbing him by his shoulder, I got close to his ear. "We have to run away. They are after us."
As he was about to retort, a man called out. "Stop right there." He spoke, cutting through the crowd of people. My hand instinctively tensed, ready to reach out for the dagger underneath my shirt. He stood face to face with me, looking at my face with narrowed eyes. "Where is your appearance changing artefact?"
Oh no… I don't have my hood on.
I placed my hand over my pants pocket. "Right here."
He withdrew his dagger and pointed the tip towards my neck. "Don't move. Let go of the Demon boy."
I removed my hand from Michael and raised them in a placating manner. He took a step towards me and slipped his hand inside my pocket. The Dwarf's thick hand twisted inside and then his wide brown eyes looked over to me in a quick, fleeting moment of sheer disbelief and horror. "Huma--"
Before he could finish his sentence, my dagger's tip sunk deep into the side of his neck. His muscles were so dense that the dagger didn't even make it to the other end.
The entire pub was suddenly enshrouded in a veil of silence. No one moved. No one talked. As if caught in a collective moment that was a mix of disbelief, rage, grief and subtle hints of disoriented revulsion. And the alchemy of emotions manifested tangibly as the sound of swords leaving their scabbards and axes and maces and spears— weapons of every kind were suddenly drawn.
Michael looked at them and then at me. "Oh, we're fucked out of our mind."
"We?" The orange haired Dwarf that had warned me to not touch the powder at the side of the pavement asked in a rather stunned disbelief.
Smirking, Michael's fist crunched into his face and his features undulated sideways, totally making it unrecognisable for a second before his entire body caught up to it and he was sent flying into the nearby wall.
And then, all hell broke loose.
Arcanum flared outwards out of everybody as the Demon girls serving pints screamed and ran inside.
Michael deactivated his horns and then picked up a pint, bringing it close to his lips.
"Can you at least stop drinking at such a time?"
My words would have barely reached him as I took a step back and a sword whooshed past my face, narrowly grazing the area underneath my eye. Letting the momentum carry the stub-horned demon forward, I flicked the table upwards and kicked it towards the incoming horde of Dwarves, Demons and the three Trolls.
Although it was enough to block the sudden wave of people attacking me, the Trolls bulldozed through their own companions, their single eyes looking down at me with a feral intensity. The one in the lead swung its arm as I rolled down the strike on the floor and dodged it.
While I was on the ground, I threw my dagger upwards and then kicked the arm of the demon that had swung at me a while ago.
Conveniently enough, the sword left his grip and fell on the ground. The Troll stomped down at the place where I was laying down. Pulling the sword towards myself, I grabbed it with both my hands. The sharp edge of the sword dug deep into its foot.
The urge to throw up infiltrated me as the demon standing kneed into my middle section, causing me to wince in pain. Twisting the sword in the Troll's foot, I extended my right arm and pulled the dagger back that I had thrown a while ago. The dagger's tip sunk into the demon's skull as he fell like a lifeless sack over me.
Pushing his giant body aside, I quickly stood up to my feet and then immediately crouched down.
The mountain-like body of another Troll flew right over before crashing into the loose door behind. The walls cracked and a spiderweb of cracks ran all along from the point of impact until it reached the roof and the entire pub caved inwards.
Looking back, I saw Michael standing with a wide grin.
"Another one bites the dust! WOOOO!"
Although he was getting hit, none of them were life threatening. The drunk frenzy he was currently in was doing him more harm than good but there was no need for me to intervene.
Pressing my foot over the Troll's neck that had his feet stabbed, I stabbed the right side of his chest.
Trolls had their heart on the right side after all.
Lightning coursed from my hand and through the dagger, illuminating its chest from inside in an eerie azure glow as his body twitched once and then a streak of lightning cut outwards from his chest, totally puncturing his heart and the primary node.
Two more demons ran in my direction.Throwing my dagger towards the cracked roof, it lodged itself into one of the many splinters.
[Ferrum Field]
The dagger magnetised instantly as I poured enough Arcanum to blow a hole through even the walls of "The Keep of Ruin".
The expression of pure horror and surprise as their weapons were forcefully stripped out of their hands lasted only for a second before I dashed and jumped upwards as I caught a sword that was stripped out of the hands of a demon who was fighting Michael and slashed at them using the same sword.
A thick spurt of blood sprayed in every direction as they clutched at their throats desperately, trying to block the blood flowing like a fountain.
Michael jumped upwards and jabbed at the back of a dwarf's head and then proceeded to kick the third Troll into his pelvic region. As it jumped around in pain, he hit the back of his head with the scabbard of a sword. The Troll's eyes rolled to the back of his head and foam rose up to his mouth before falling to the ground with a loud thud that made the already wrecked roof almost fall off.
"You should kill them." I spoke, the silence that followed the defeat of people oddly satisfying.
"I won't." He spoke by bringing his face close to mine. His breath reeked of Alcohol and his eyes—although mostly unfocused—were looking right into my own, as if I had said the most immoral and disgusting thing.
It honestly baffled me.
"You realise when they wake up, they will come after you. And would have even more motivation to explicitly have your head on a spike."
He smirked. "They can try as many times as they can, the result would never change." As he said, he walked past me.
Casting one last look back and heaving out a sigh, I followed after him.
I hate my decision. Or rather complying with his decision. However, I'd rather have him by my side than him being an enemy. I was not asinine enough to be unable to weigh the merits and demerits of my own actions.
As I walked out of the semi-collapsed pub, I was expecting to meet a huge horde of people ready to chant stuff like "Burn the witch!" or in this instance, "Burn the humans!" but instead what I was met with was an utter lack of people.
Or lack of the immediate presence of people. They were present, lurking behind the stretched, long shadow of a lone man standing- towering over Michael. The hate, spite and disgust in their eyes was almost palpable, threatening to take over.
The man whose shadow extended eerily back had long, waist length midnight grey hair and a pair of slit amethyst eyes that contrasted well with his hair.
His hands were clasped behind his back and his face carried a rather welcoming smile.
A golden chainmail decorated his shoulders and middle chest, protecting it. Now that I was looking at it from up-close; I could feel the subtle hum of Arcanum imbued inside it.
The numerous medals adorning his chest were absent and he was wearing a much more informal attire, or at least it seemed so in comparison to the previous flashy one.
He was wearing a light brown doublet fastened together with rows of leather laces. Its collar stood tall, padded and regal, framing his face with authority. Tailored seams made it look like a snug fit, accentuating his muscular frame.
He cocked his head to the side and then let his arms dangle freely to the side. His dark amethyst eyes flicked up and down curiously and then he clasped his hands in front of himself.
"I must say, I am quite disappointed." His baritone held authority without arrogance, lacking the chill of condescension. "You are… pardon my words but really, hmm, how do I put it?" He tilted his head to the other side, his tongue making moving-bumps on his cheek from the inside of his mouth, as he was tangibly trying to roll the correct words to manifest on his tongue. "For the lack of better words, Mundane." He finished.
"Uh, thank you?"
It was the only thing I could think of as a sarcastic answer, however, the derision only seemed to backfire due to the stillness that plagued the whole place like a graveyard. His amused eyes looked at me from up to down and then he gave me a shallow, mock bow.
"You're welcome."
A smirk crept up his face.
"Well putting that aside, may I know to what do I- or rather we owe the pleasure of your visit? I am sure you have not graced us with your presence to provide recompense for the apples Adam and Eve stole before scurrying away like mice with tails tucked between their legs to avoid starvation. Starvation on an unknown land stolen from us by the Heretic Gods."
It was quite obvious what he was doing and every word that came out of his mouth was laced with deadly poison.
However, his voice made it seem like it was all a fiasco and he didn't mean any of it.
A wave of laughter erupted and washed over the entire place.
I felt Michael tense right to my left, standing two steps ahead of me.
"Compensation for apples could've been one way to greet the neighbours after millions of years." I tried to play along. Pulling the bare minimum of what was required to cause a small detonation using Arcanum, I let it flow subtly and condense right atop my hand that was tucked behind my back.
He scoffed, as if he had heard a joke. "I did hear humans have a good sense of humour." The smile narrowed. "You seem to not have inherited it."
Hmmm. I wasn't joking though?
"Oh, my parents are real bores." I shrugged my shoulders, the small sphere of Arcanum that was no bigger than a candy condensing atop my palm.
Michael looked at me from the corner of my eye. His hands were balled into fists and there was impatience in his eyes.
"Ouch." He let out a hearty chuckle. If not for the people standing in shadows with murderous intents and battle-ready sheens around them, it could've been considered a very wholesome conversation between Humans and Aliens. "Your friend seems to have really enjoyed our delicacy here."
"Oh, he has." I agreed wholeheartedly.
He nodded his head a few times. The light in his eyes and the smile on his face all but vanished as the wind caused a few locks to hug his face. From behind the grey locks, his eyes narrowed and a frown formed on his face. "Did you encounter a woman while sneaking into this place?"
Michael shuddered.
"Old woman. Purple hair. Stubs for horns." I recalled. "Her son named Ed was about to get executed here."
He gripped the bridge of his nose and looked at the sky. "Urgh, you damned old bat." He cursed, but there was a degree of adoration to it. Without a change in his voice, he spoke again. "I am assuming she's dead."
"Yep."
A brief moment of silence ensued. Like the calm before a storm. He let out a heavy, dejected sigh.
"Always told that woman to not do things she isn't capable of." He pressed his thumb into his right palm and rubbed it against the surface. Slow and gentle at first, but the rubbing intensified with each, awkwardly passing second. "Commoners. All of them have the same mentality. To prove something. I am sure it must be the same over on your side."
"Not really. Imperialism has long since been abolished." I almost scoffed at the irony of my own words. "Democracy is commonplace now."
He smiled, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. It felt like he was mourning, the rubbing of his thumb changing cadences every now and then. "Surely you benefit from this—allegedly—fair democracy."
"Well, the ones in power do." I replied and the small, round congregation of Arcanum swelled in my palm. "Just a fancy name for the same thing."
"Hmmm." He hummed out loud and let his arms dangle freely to the side. "Well, formality and duty refrain me from putting my own personal matters above the Lord's motives, but I still need to ask a few things. Can I?"
"I don't think time is a luxury either of us can afford."
His lower lip pressed over the upper one as he fell in deep thought. Looking over my shoulder, he saw someone crawl out of the pub, point at me and then drop down again.
"So, someone is alive inside." He mumbled with surprise. "I am guessing you are the one who killed my mother. And you drunk friend is a softie."
"He has a few traits that make me want to spill his blood, yes. But putting that aside, you are right. I was the one who slit her throat."
He hummed once again. "Then why do you still fight by his side?"
"Conflict of Interest."
A dark chuckle escaped his lips. "Right. I can understand that." His lip quivered. "Is her body in a retrievable condition?"
I looked around us. More and more people were pouring in, but none of them dared to attack. Their gazes transitioned from anger and hate to pure disgust and mild surprise at the peaceful conversation between us.
"She's complete, if that's what you are wondering. Buried underneath the 17th tree in the second column of the avenue. If you are walking from the Keep."
"Oh." He smiled and then looked up. "I'll make it swift then. I don't really hold grudges or carry indiscriminate hatred towards any race." He craned his neck behind and then back at me. "My mother was a commoner."
"That's sad to hear, I guess."
"Your words betray the look in your eyes, human." Ed let out a humourless chuckle. "But no, it's not exactly sad. Look where I am." He extended his arms to the side in a welcoming way. "I am a General."
He brought his hand above the ground and stopped it at a certain height.
"As a Vorlith I give you my oath no one will intrude through our duel." He then looked at Michael. "As for you, I can't guarantee that."
Michael scoffed. "These twigs? Seriously?" Looking up at the sky he cackled. Like the boom of a lightning splitting the sky, his laughter echoed throughout the keep.
As he slapped his knee, he looked up and wiped the tear from his eye before letting out a hiccup. He pumped both of his fists against each other. "I am going to murder y'all."
His words were the catalyst as the echo of his laughter that was still reverberating was drowned out by the clamour of weapons clashing against shields and heavy steps of armour clanging on the ground beneath. Sand kicked up as the huge wave of soldiers of three distinct races—Dwarves, Trolls and Demons—started to attack him altogether.
With another cackle of a madman and a look on his face that bordered on insanity, he jumped into the crowd.
Everyone was attacking him all the while narrowly skipping me.
"He'll die." He said and nodded as if agreeing with himself.
"He'll live." I replied as I looked at him, drunk on the pure adrenaline he received from violence. "If it was me, I would've died though."
"Hmph. We shall see about that"
"Your position should make you understand why numbers are not everything." I motioned my head and then extended my hand towards the sky. The roof of the pub where all the weapons of people had joined broke open and multiple weapons started to float a few metres above my head in the shape of a halo.
Flicking my index finger downwards, a sword landed in my grip.
"Enough chitter chatter."
The welcoming look on his face all but vanished.
"Nightcrackle." His lips moved, uttering a vaguely familiar name.
The small area in space around him cracked and broke, ripping itself apart. Tendrils of something that looked like lightning infused tentacles stuck at open air as the small point in space fractured even more. And from the inside of the small tear in space, a handle poked out. Gripping it in his gloved hand, he pulled it and then held it above his head with its tip towards the sky, as if showing it off.
It was a longsword with a dull grey blade and a fiery red hilt with a small amethyst gem on top of it.
"Brace yourself, human. I don't want you to disappear just yet." I felt his fingers tighten around the hilt.
"We'll see—" The words in my throat were suspended in the air as he moved his sword down right from where he was standing.
The air churned around the strike of his sword and detached itself from the physical body of the sword and extended towards me. Wisps of sickly grey moved like the side-view of a giant wave towards me.
Pivoting my foot, I barely dodged it and focused on my hand. The white sphere of pure compressed Arcanum suddenly started to get larger with every passing breath until it dwarfed even my own stature and then the sphere erupted into a beam of pure Arcanum.
There was not a beat of sound to be heard from either my attack or his, only pure havoc as the plumes of dust and debris rising from both of our backs marked the start of our battle.
"Not bad." He remarked, looking behind himself.
The area where his sword extension strike had landed, was completely gone. As if it had long since decayed and withered away into nothingness.
As I was looking down at it, a shadow swallowed my own. Pushing my body backwards, I bumped into Ed and cancelled his downward strike. Using the hilt as a weapon, I tried to drive it into his ribs, however, since I had pushed my back into him, I was off balance.
Taking advantage of that, he removed his own body from me that was anchoring my weight and blitzed to my side.
Twisting my body immediately I plunged the sword into the ground, using it as a support to not fall down.
Barely giving me any moment to rest—rightfully—he drove his shoulder into me.
The impact felt like a wrecking ball and my surroundings blurred and then stretched like rubber. Before I could fully register the crushing impact of the wild, bull-like charge and the excruciating pain that followed it, my back collided into the wall of one of the workshops.
However, impetus was an unforgiving maiden.
The flimsy wall made out of mud-covered stacked-rocks gave away the instant my body made contact and caved inwards.
Piles upon piles of rocks and lumps of hardened dirt fell over me one after another, stacking like the tombstone of an unkempt grave.
I clenched my teeth and held my breath, trying to push away the sensation of a needle stabbing the inside of my chest.
With one sudden, concentrated blast of pure Arcanum from my palm, the stone grave exploded, releasing me.
I heard the sound of flame hissing in the hearth to my left a second after I brought my sword up and blocked the bone jarring strike from Ed.
His Nightcrackle clashed against the stolen sword with a certain degree of defiance. As if it was unworthy of clashing against such a feeble excuse of a sword.
And it was not wrong.
After delivering the shock of his blow to my arm that rattled my bones, the blade in my hand started to melt.
The same wispy grey aura that had surrounded his slash clasped around my blade, coiling like a cobra around the solid surface and then its ghostly tendrils seeped into the metal like incorporeal tentacles.
Sparks flew, followed by a crack in my blade as I pushed him back with a considerable amount of force—which only slightly budged him; however, the damage was done.
The dull clatter of the sword in my hand slowly fragmenting made me look down. Even the broken shards' shape began to soften, its edges blurring and melding into the surrounding haze of the hearth burning the flammable objects around it.
It was such a foreign thing to witness that I watched the last vestiges of solidity vanish into a faint shimmer all the while excluding Ed from my focus.
As if letting me witness it, I saw him standing with Nightcrackle resting on his shoulder. "Done gawking? Have you gained some clarity now? Has the brain fog that makes you think you even have a sliver of a chance to succeed subsided?"
Pushing myself to my feet, I raised my hand and the suspended halo of weapons atop my head into the air moved towards me.
Ed looked up and then cleared the distance between us in the blink of an eye.
Weapons rained down at him like a hailstorm as I dashed backwards.
The amethyst, crimson and black-grey colours that formed Nightcrackle combined in one deadly arc, slicing through every weapon I had sent towards him. The blade and handles of multiple types of weapons scattered around him like dried-up leaves in autumn as he stepped on them, crushing them to fine dust before stepping away.
"It's futile, human." His voice was a rumble. "You are feeble, your friend is outnumbered and there is no hope for any of you." He took a heavy step towards me. "Succumb to the inevitable."
I slightly tapped my right ear with my right hand. "You talk a lot." A sword flew from the right and I caught it. "And it's getting on my nerves." Cranking my neck, I got into a tail stance, grabbing the hilt with both my hands and then extending it backwards. "And that's a feat. Since I rarely get annoyed."
He sighed in a way that made him look like a remorseful parent, disappointed in his child. "As you wish."
Ed wasted no time, gave no further warning.
An aura of black wispy flames burned the air in my lungs and coated his entire body, billowing up and down in a girthy cone.
Not only the workshop where we had landed into but almost every other structure surrounding it was obliterated, the earth beneath blackened and burned away, flattening everything to the ground of the length of a football field.
Smoke and debris formed a natural camouflage and he disappeared within it.
[Phase 1: Ferrum Field]
The roofs of almost every remaining workshop gave away as thousands of weapons flew towards me.
Slicing through the mushroom of dust and black smoke, I caught sight of Nightcrackle, however, it was too late. Instead of parrying it, I pulled the weapons towards me and formed a round structure in front of me made entirely of swords and axes.
They followed each other, attaching in a perfect sync while forming a giant kaleidoscope. The tip of Nightcrackle clashed against the stacked weapons and frenzied sparks flew in every direction.
As if I was holding a tangible rope, I jerked my hand backwards and three spears homed in at Ed in a pincer attack.
His focus faltered for a second as he looked back and swung his sword back at their bases. However, it seemed like he still wasn't aware of my Arcane Arts. The severed top areas of the spears redirected themselves towards his chest and shoulders.
Taking a hold of one of the swords that formed the defensive wall a while ago, I lunged forward.
Swinging my sword in a downward, diagonal slash, I aimed for his thigh.
Ed swung his sword in a circular motion and parried my attack and then immediately struck at the two spears.
I flicked my arm and the last spear shifted direction. Weaving around him, it lodged itself into his thigh as I plunged my sword into his chest.
Or so I thought.
The tip of my sword that was imbued in a slightly pale golden aura stopped right before dipping into his chainmail as it started to glow and several shields compounded upon one another, taking the brunt of the attack before breaking layer by layer like shards of glass.
His eyes were wide, and his smile grew wild. "You are something else." He mumbled in a moment of pure stillness.
And then time resumed once again.
My thoughts doubled over as his feet suddenly tangled with each other and before I could even process it, he was behind me.
Nightcrackle made contact with my unprotected back and a searing jolt of pain went down my spine and then into my legs, making them go numb for a moment that felt like a decade.
Twisting my body and backflipping, I avoided a stab aimed at my heart and landed on top of his shoulder. Grabbing his curved horns and pulling them back, I kicked the back of his head before summoning another sword.
The searing sensation of Nightcrackle cutting still persisted and it felt like a parasite had taken birth inside me, slowly eating away at the festering wound. It wasn't something natural.
A laboured breath escaped me as I plunged the sword into the chainmail. This time the mechanism didn't activate and it cut through the dense metal. I felt the sword make contact with flesh, renting it apart and then hitting his bone.
Letting out a roar, he swung his sword at his own head.
Kicking the lodged sword and widening his wound, I created some distance between us.
He stumbled forward, and then fell to one knee. Quickly removing the sword from his shoulder, he looked back at me.
Gone was the look of superiority and was replaced by a simmering rage ready to boil over.
"As I said, you talk a lot." A plethora of swords appeared beside me, their tips pointing at him. "A dying man should not waste his breath on empty words."
Instead of replying, he shot upwards. The wispy black aura around Ed flared as he dove, expanding behind him like enormous wings. Red aura manifested as an extension of his sword.
It was only after I squinted my eyes was when I realised the wispy black thing was not his aura. It was a manifestation, or rather application of his Arcane Art.
They were flames. Dark and shadowy flames.
It made a bit of sense now. When I had fired the beam of Arcanum at him, his sword slash had almost removed everything from existence. Or that is what I had speculated.
The second occurrence was when he broke my sword just by touching it.
Through a simple process of elimination, it became quite clear that…
"It's decay-based, isn't it? Your Arcane Art?" I uttered with a lopsided frown.
His features hardened mid-flight and his speed increased. Flying towards me like a fighter jet, he suddenly accelerated and the cacophony of sound barrier breaking made my senses go into high alert. My sword was only midway when it shattered to bits and the invisible strike blew me away.
Planting my feet firmly into the ground, I killed the momentum.
My arms were screaming in protest.
I was no match for Ed in a pure physical aspect. If it was a contest of pure strength, I would've been defeated.
And he was almost as fast as me.
My teeth gnashed against each other. The situation was progressively getting worse. My Arcanum reserves were still supporting me; however, Michael was dwindling down.
The amount of people swarming him was endless.
And he was forced to not use his Arcane Arts. Even if he did, him and I both might die as well. It was a high risk, low reward, last ditch approach.
Ed had flown into the air once again, and was looking down at me like a vulture gawking at its prey.
I needed to either kill Ed—which was most likely impossible—or run away with Michael. Although his maniacal laughter was providing an eerie backdrop and some support in this whole despairing scenario, he would soon hit his limit. The small cuts and bruises all over his body will soon catch up to him.
The sword in my hand and the numerous others around me glowed in a golden aura as I infused my legs in Arcanum.
Remembering all the lessons, I reminded myself.
Even if my memory isn't there, my body can remember it.
The image of my mother—Lady Sif, flashed in front of my eyes.
'This is what you want, don't you!'
I cursed, both at my powerlessness and the fact that I was going to do what she had always asked me to.
To not run away from who I was. But to accept it. Embrace it. Become one with it.
Something burned against my back.
It was the slash Ed had delivered.
It would make sense. His flames are imbued with a decaying property.
And I can't heal it myself. Not something like this. I need Astrid.
The thoughts of self-preservation and my well-being started to fade ploddingly, but gradually into oblivion.
The edges of my consciousness started to darken and something dark and primal awoke within me.
As I felt Ed's muscles tense and getting ready to dip and attack me, time slowed down. Or rather my perception increased.
At first the presence felt like a foreign entity, however, it felt something much more personal. Like an intrinsic urge. Something that didn't merely exist inside me, but was a part of me…it was…me.
The pale glow of my eyes illuminated the sword in my hand and I felt the entire world blur out of existence, save for one person. Ed.
My body felt like lead, and a feather at the same time.
As if acting on pure instinct, I hurled myself into the air as the ground beneath me exploded and Ed fell from the sky like a bolt of murky dark lightning.
My hand burned as a huge ball of Arcanum condensed into my palm.
A wave of the same corrosive fire broiled out from his hand.
I blasted my own sphere of pure Arcanum before slashing at his throat with my dull blade. However, his body dissipated like smoke, vanishing into the flames still filling the sky like a giant fish net.
I stabbed into the small opening towards my exposed back and the sword made contact with Nightcrackle. The corrosive flame stuck to my blade and then hungrily ate away like termites infesting wood. The only difference being it was much faster.
And then he was gone again.
Before the flames could stick to my hand, I got rid of it and a spear landed in my hands.
I had done basic spars with all weapons. However, the spear was something that never sat well with me.
But this wasn't the time to complain. Ed had fired off another net of acidic flames from within the nebula of smoke rising from the devastation of "The Keep" beneath and the corrosive flames hanging like a curtain in the air.
My arms blurred like a helicopter's blade as I slashed around me, dispersing the flames like dandelion seeds against the seasonal warm gusts.
He reappeared; however, only this time it was right in front of me. His hand, girded in the flames, plunged into my side, melting flesh and bone alike before curling around my ribs.
The pain slowly took a free-fall into a cold well as more and more of the surroundings started to blur.
The spear in my hand cratered and I held him by his throat with one hand and dipped my ring and middle finger into the shoulder wound that I had given him a while ago.
"Gruh!" He grunted and the ribs in his hold shattered, sending a tremor of hot pain throughout my chest.
Blood seeped out of the corner of my lips and I kicked him back. With a roar of frustration, I threw the dropped spear after him that hissed through the burning air like a javelin before immediately dissolving upon touching the corrosive aura that stuck to Ed's body.
My survival instincts continued to fall into abstraction, battle-thirst taking over my senses and pushing rationality to a far, far back corner of consciousness.
The thought of my mother being responsible for this state of mine made my entire body shudder.
Fear was something I had never experienced. After all, being on the top of the food chain—even being the apex of humanity was something that disallowed me to ever feel it.
However, that woman… this gnawing feeling of the fact that my every action is manipulated by her makes me… fearful.
My body sagged down as I realised that my pants have grown heavy from the amount of blood continuously seeping and soaking into them from the gash into my back and the side of my ribcage.
Ed's feet doubled over and my senses went into a frenzy. It was the same sequence of footwork as before.
Once again… something much more primal and purer struggled to flicker to life and my rationality morphed into something akin to a candle trying to stay alive in the midst of a rainstorm.
A pair of ethereal, pale and cold hands seemed to hug me from behind and pull me in.
And then I felt myself fall into a black hole, losing my consciousness.