Chapter 24
The tavern smelled of smoke and spilled ale, lantern light flickering across worn wooden beams. The revelry had died down hours ago, leaving only the lingering scent of stale beer and unwashed bodies.
"Where… did I ever see that guy before?"
Enix whispered into the darkness, his eyes tracing the timbered ceiling above his bed. His thoughts gnawed at him like wolves at a carcass. That black armored figure Zeer had radiated an aura that clawed at the edge of his memory. It was familiarity wrapped in dread, a sense of recognition tinged with unease. He tossed and turned, unable to shake the feeling that he knew Zeer from somewhere.
He turned on his side, restless. The tavern room smelled of sea salt and old ale, yet it wasn't the stench keeping him awake. It was the weight of that man's presence, lingering like a scar on the back of his mind. He felt a growing sense of paranoia, as if he were being watched.
Unable to bear it, Enix slipped from bed. The floor creaked as he moved quietly, careful not to wake Rowan or Thalia in the other rooms. He pulled his cloak on and stepped outside into the sleeping city. He needed to clear his head, to escape the suffocating feeling that had taken hold of him.
Serian lay muted under the pale wash of the moon. The ocean sighed against the docks, gulls slept on the masts, and the streets, usually alive with chaos, lay empty and strange. His boots echoed faintly on the cobblestones as he wandered, searching without knowing what he sought. He felt drawn to the shadows, as if they held the answers he was looking for.
From the shadows, another door opened.
Azre leaned against her wall, arms crossed, having noticed Enix's silhouette move past her room. "What's he doing out at this hour…?" she muttered, narrowing her eyes. She sensed his unease, his restlessness.
She grabbed her blade and followed, her presence concealed like a phantom's breath. Her steps were noiseless, her aura veiled, but her focus burned sharp. Something about the way Enix had left, tense and troubled, gnawed at her instincts. She trusted Enix, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking into danger.
And then
A frantic scream tore through the silence. The sound was raw and desperate, a cry for help that sent shivers down her spine.
Enix stopped in his tracks, startled. From the corner of a narrow alley, he caught sight of a hooded figure in black rags bolting desperately. The man's breath came in ragged bursts, his arms pumping as though chased by death itself. He looked terrified, as if he were running for his life.
Behind him, shadows slithered unnaturally, wrapping the brick walls. Something dreadful was pursuing him. The air crackled with dark energy, a palpable sense of malice.
Azre's eyes widened. The air turned heavy, poisonous, the exact suffocating sensation she had felt back in Arcaun before the wyvern attack. She recognized the signs of dark magic, the telltale scent of corruption.
Her gut twisted. "No… not again." She couldn't let another tragedy unfold before her eyes.
She abandoned her concealment and shouted, her voice cutting through the night. "HEY, ENIX! I need your help!" She hoped her cry would distract whatever was pursuing the hooded figure.
Enix jolted at her voice, spinning around. Confusion creased his face. He couldn't understand why Azre was calling for him, what danger she sensed.
"What the hell are you yelling about"
But then he felt it. A presence like a black tide rolling under the earth. His chest tightened, his skin prickled. Whatever stalked the city tonight wasn't human. He felt a surge of adrenaline, his senses heightened.
Azre bolted toward the alley, blade half drawn. Enix, acting on instinct, ran the opposite way, toward the street ahead a hunter's tug pulling him deeper. He knew he had to protect Azre, to face whatever threat awaited them.
Neither realized they were walking straight into jaws waiting to snap shut. They were being manipulated, their actions guided by an unseen hand.
Above, crouched on the crumbling arch of a warehouse roof, a figure lingered.
Gigaleon.
His grin spread, teeth flashing in the moonlight as his laughter rumbled low, guttural, chilling. He watched the knights below, his eyes filled with amusement.
"Perfect… you two scatter like prey, thinking you're hunters. How delicious." He savored the moment, the anticipation of the chaos to come.
His crimson eyes gleamed as he watched the Purge Knight and the wanderer split paths. The trap he had laid had sprung just as planned. He had orchestrated this entire scenario, guiding them towards their doom.
But Gigaleon wasn't a mindless beast. He had goals beyond slaughter. He remembered clearly the way he had slithered into the cult's ranks, wearing another face a clone of himself crafted from threads of soul and shadow. The fools of the Trinity never suspected as he learned their rituals, their tomes, their altars. He had played them all, using their own ambitions against them.
And when the moment was right, he stole the second tome from their very hands. He had planted just enough "truth" in their minds to push them toward confrontation with the Purge Knights. He had set them on a collision course, knowing that only one side could emerge victorious.
"Let them bleed each other dry," Gigaleon whispered to himself, chuckling. "When both sides fall… I will claim what remains." He would seize the power they possessed, becoming stronger than ever before.
He licked his lips as his gaze drifted toward another thought.
Brooke.
The huntress. The outlaw pirate queen with a bounty too steep for cowards, too dangerous for fools. The thought of devouring her spirit, silencing her flame, sent a shiver of hunger down his spine. He craved her power, her strength, her very essence.
"Oh yes… you, too, will dance for me."
Gigaleon's laugh carried through the night like a broken bell, then faded as he melted back into the shadows. He vanished without a trace, leaving only the lingering scent of malice in his wake.
Back on the streets, Azre's boots splashed through a puddle as she entered the alley. The hooded man stumbled, cornered by a shape that had no face but grinned with a thousand whispering mouths. The creature was a grotesque parody of human form, its body twisted and distorted.
"Sacrifice…" it hissed, dripping shadow as it reached for the man. Its voice was a chorus of whispers, a symphony of madness.
Azre charged, blade flashing silver, cleaving the air with a cry. "Not tonight!" She moved with speed and precision, her determination unwavering.
At the same time, Enix skidded to a halt on the adjoining street, his eyes widening as three more robed figures emerged, blocking his path. Each raised jagged blades, chanting words that clawed at the air. The cultists were fanatics, their eyes burning with zealotry.
"The seal must break. The abyss must feast!" Their voices were a discordant chorus, a hymn to destruction.
Enix drew his weapon, sweat cold against his skin. "...Great. Just my luck." He knew he was outnumbered, outmatched, but he refused to back down.
And in that instant, the night exploded Azre's blade sparking against shadow, Enix clashing steel against cultist knives while high above, Gigaleon laughed to himself, watching his puppets collide in the chaos he had sown. He reveled in the destruction, the suffering, the chaos he had unleashed.
The city of Serian had just become a battlefield. The streets were stained with blood, the air filled with the scent of death.
The hooded man stumbled into the alley, gasping like prey cornered by wolves. His pursuers the cultists in black raised their daggers high, chanting discordant hymns. They circled him, their movements predatory.
Enix quickened his pace. "Hey! Hold it" He shouted, hoping to distract the cultists.
The man turned. His face was unnervingly still, eyes empty voids, and then
Crack.
The skin split apart like fragile porcelain, and beneath, threads of sickly soul light writhed like worms caught in fire. The sight was grotesque, horrifying.
Azre's eyes went wide. No… this was a trap. Her stomach churned as she realized the hooded figure they had meant to save was not a human being right from the start. Faint traces of compressed mana leaked from its body, twisting through the air like smoke from a dying flame. She had been tricked, manipulated.
The skin split apart like porcelain. Threads of soul light flickered beneath, writhing like worms. The creature's true form was revealed a grotesque puppet of shadow and soul energy.
The figure smiled faintly, then erupted. The explosion of shadows hurled both knights backward, rattling the walls, tearing lanterns from their hooks. The force of the blast was immense, throwing them against the brick walls.
As the smoke cleared, a new presence stood there. The air grew colder, the shadows deeper.
A tall figure emerged slowly, robes trailing in soot and smoke. His staff etched with runes pulsed faintly, drinking in the darkness. His hood fell back, revealing pallid skin and cruel, sunken eyes that gleamed with intelligence. He radiated an aura of power, of ancient knowledge.
He looked down at them as if studying insects. He regarded them with disdain, as if they were beneath his notice.
"I am Dieval," he announced, his voice measured, commanding. His words echoed through the alley, sending shivers down their spines.
"I'm one of the three Founder of the Trinity. Keeper of curses. You were not meant to see me… yet. But fate is fickle." He smiled faintly, his eyes filled with amusement.
Enix spat to the side. "Founder or not… you picked the wrong night." He struggled to his feet, his hand gripping his weapon tightly.
Dieval smiled faintly. "You mistake inevitability for choice. Allow me to educate you." He raised his staff, his eyes glowing with power.
With a subtle flick of his staff, the alley twisted. A wave of black energy swept out Confusion. Both knights staggered, vision doubling, whispers digging into their skulls. Their minds were assaulted by a cacophony of voices, driving them to the brink of madness.
Then Paralysis. Enix's knees buckled, muscles tightening. He forced himself to stay upright, his blade trembling. He fought against the paralysis, his will straining against Dieval's power.
And then came Poison. Azre's breath hitched, lips paling as a sickly green glow wrapped her body. She gasped for air, her lungs burning.
All the while, Dieval never approached. He simply commanded. He remained at a distance, a puppet master pulling the strings.
Shadows rose around him, forming into phantoms half formed bodies with jagged claws and skull like faces. They swarmed forward. The phantoms were grotesque parodies of life, their eyes burning with malice.
Enix slashed, cutting one phantom down, only for another to grab his shoulder. Its claw raked across his back, blood spraying. He cried out in pain, his strength waning.
Azre countered with a burst of divine light, her blessing radiating outward. Golden runes formed a shield around them, pushing back the curses gnawing at their minds. The runes shimmered, deflecting the dark energy that threatened to consume them.
"Hah Enix! Stay sharp! I can suppress his curses, but not forever!" She cried out, her voice strained. She knew she couldn't hold back Dieval's power forever.
Enix's teeth clenched. "Then we finish this… before he finishes us." He struggled against the paralysis, his determination unwavering.
But Dieval's strategy was merciless. He never came close, instead sending waves of phantoms and curses from the safety of the shadows. Each curse stacked upon the other, weakening them, slowing them, bleeding them of strength. He was slowly breaking them down, wearing them down with his relentless attacks.
Enix's vision swam. Azre's mana was draining rapidly, each prayer leaving her paler, sweat dripping from her brow. They were both nearing their breaking point, their strength failing.
Dieval's voice cut through it all. Calm. Cold. Cruel. His words were like ice, chilling them to the bone.
"Your faith is a candle. My curse is the night. Tell me, knight what use is a candle… in a storm?" He smiled, his eyes filled with contempt. He knew he had already won.