by A Uscila
Before he could get annoyed by either the cowardly bandit, Willow’s rough handling or Vivian’s tenacious clinging, Sorro decided to join in on the fun - “Make sure you have enough mana! I’m going in!” – Completely self-managing and independent, the devil charged towards the approaching horde of peasants. Without even considering the possibility that Wail was actually out of mana. A stretch, sure – seeing as a greedy bastard like him would always save up some back-up resources just in case. Still – unexpected things have a tendency to happen around the ominous magician.
Sparks and screeches erupted – as the devil charged through the frontal lines of farmers armed in pitchforks and hoes. Ripping into them with relative ease – his claws slicing through thin, run-down clothing like through butter.
Once in through the first few lines – Sorro abruptly stopped, only to extend both hands to opposite sides, a satisfied cackle slipping through that sharp-toothed mouth of his soon after. Together with the sudden, yet familiar eruption of molten flames. Their burning tongues exploding outwardly in a five meter radius – bringing with it the smell of burning earth and flesh. Heck, even forcing out a higher screeching tone out of the unlucky enough to be in the near vicinity. It was a breathtaking sight – without a doubt, as even Wail was somewhat lost in the sight. Wave after wave of blazing fires exploded outwardly – forming almost a constant dome. It’s form shinning as if a beacon – a light that seemed to lure in those stupid enough to gaze upon it. Like moths to the flame.
Seeing as only a medium sized breach was opened – through which the peasants could advance directly towards Wail, casualties were piling up. Charred, lifeless bodies stacked upon each other all over the near vicinity – while those caught on fire ran about in a flailing, screaming mess. Slamming into their comrades, disrupting the rushed advance and lighting others on fire. Chaos, pure and utter chaos.
So beautiful did the sight seem, that Wail completely forgot about how much mana the spell consumed. Only to be woken up from his daze once Sorro’s spell ran out of juice.
“I need more mana, you idiot! Get to work!” – Unsatisfied, the devil shouted – while being forced to get back to a primitive melee. His jeering sneer now twisted into a dissatisfied frown. Ripping apart peasants one by one could only give you so much joy – when comparing it to the so recent obliterating effect of that hellfire. To that mind boggling display of carnage and destruction.
Still, the spell had its intended effect – as the initial peasantry charge was completely shattered and disrupted. Wail’s forces were now pressing upon and within their disorganized ranks with tenacity and a clear momentum. Only a few pockets of plated yellow invaders seen in the near vicinity at this point – most of them either redirected or even – all but gone. A theory that Wail started to consider as soon as the recent, though brief, report reached him. After all – there was no way that Bob would be able to engage the peasants if all of the yellow forces were more or less redirected onto the left flank. A thought that was soon reinforced with the reemergence of two familiar figures.
Soaked in mud and gore from head to toe, wielding a large two-handed black blade, pulsing with red light every now and then – Bob emerged from the side. An unexpected arrival – seeing as the commander normally isn’t supposed to abandon his troops in the middle of battle.
As if that wasn’t enough – a roar that was simply leagues above in volume and pitch echoed from the right. As Wail’s sight caught upon a towering figure with a blood dripping slab of metal in hand – cleaving through peasant’s as if cutting grass. Each swing leaving meat-paste in its way. A tad overdone – if someone would bother to ask Wail.
“The bastards completely retreated – leaving behind this bunch to distract us!” – Without even saying hello or asking how Wail was doing – Bob charged into the nearest enemies with vigor. His blade doing a lovely job of cleanly cutting through an innocent farmer from shoulder to groin. A brief report thrown back towards the daydreaming warlock. Mean, would be an understatement.
Wail couldn’t help but feel somewhat disregarded, as his ego demanded a certain level of recognition and respect. Regardless if it was deserved or not. After all – emptiness within ones soul had to be filled with something.
Childishly – he conjured a relatively small ball of flame and threw it under the feet of his minion. Setting one foot on fire and forcing the bandit to strut around in panic – only to put out the lingering flame soon after.
“What was that for!?” – A dissatisfied inquiry sounding out once the immediate danger of losing a foot was no longer in sight.
“Stop slaughtering these weaklings and order everyone to gather up as many of them alive as possible! This is over and we’ll need the manpower” – Bossy as always, the warlock commanded, as he started casting about Soul Syphon left and right. As if the conversation was done there and then – a complete disregard to Bob’s question clear and simple. What a prick.
Still, Bob was pretty much used to that sort of attitude, as he simply ran off along the lines of bandits and peasants – relaying the order in loud shouts as the long-fought battle was finally drawing to an end. A clear one-sided massacre taking place at this point, as the lightly armored and armed bandits were a perfect tool to dispose of all these plebeians.
A hard-fought victory – finally in sight. Wail couldn’t help but smile sinisterly due to the thought.
It is quite possible that additional casualties were inflicted due to the sight of it.
*******
Wind gently rustled the trees all around – a sound barely heard over the cacophony of noise echoing in the near vicinity. A scraping of metal upon metal, the beating of plated feet upon the grassy ground. Each tired step taken in relative unison – truly, an amazing feat considering who was responsible for it. Lines upon lines of soldiers clad in heavy armor. Dent, bloodied and muddied – the metal sheen almost the same color as the dirtied tabards they wore over it. A muddied yellow that once shone in annoying brightness. Each soldier seemingly tired, their steps taken with visible difficulty and strain. Not a drop of vigor present. Heads lowered, shields held a few centimeters lower than professionalism demanded.
At the head of this procession – marched a luxuriously dressed male. His golden curls swaying in the wind and dancing from the motion. While cold, uncaring eyes glared from beneath furrowed brows of the same color as his hair. A thin pair of lips tightly pressed against each other. Definitely not the friendliest looking fella.
“Commander Princess, might I inquire as to the reason for our retreat? I do not mean to sound presumptuous, but I believe we could have easily…” – An uncharacteristically timid voice drifted from the right of goldilocks. Accompanied by a plentiful jiggling of his chainmail coat and coif. A broad-shouldered mountain of a man. His armored arm resting on a giant mace that hung from the waist.
“…then I suggest you not to speak at all, Brock” – Before the fellow could even finish, Princess chose to cut him off. Voice just as cold and uncaring as his facial features – “It was never our purpose to destroy them – for it would have been too costly a victory. If a victory at all. Our mission, was to weaken them and draw attention to the region. Adding to it - an opportune chance to discard any unwanted personnel. I’d say the mission is a complete success” – He added moments later. A merciful gesture to lift the spirits of an obviously disheartened underling.
“Draw whose attention, sir?” – At this point, a giant question mark could practically be seen above the soldier’s head. All that explanation obviously not enough to unveil all the unknowns. To relieve all the uncertainty.
“You’ll find out soon enough” – For the first time in ages, a smile surfaced upon the commanders features. A cruel, blood-freezing smile that could only be a premonition of horrors to come. An ominous sign that no one would want to witness – and one to which the armored soldier could only pale in fright.
Chapter 54
Light was fading – as the sun trav
ersed beyond the horizon, making room for the moon to approach from the other side. Night was on its way.
With a satisfied grin – Wail gazed towards the fields of tested fortifications from above the inner keeps walls. His eyes traveling over the run-down wooden shacks that lay below, the scorched and blood soaked land beyond it – only to finally settle on the seemingly endless tree-line.
It was finally over – and he was victorious. So self-satisfied did Wail feel, that he unconsciously released a deranged cackle – one that would probably give even Sorro the chills. Sadly, the demon was not here to witness – since he was sucked back to whatever hell-hole the fiend came from.
As abruptly as the cackle rose so did it stop – disappearing together with the grin, as Wail’s mood was soon dampened by an unpleasant realization. Vivian was still glued to his leg quite vehemently – due to which getting up onto the walls was quite a challenge in and of itself. Though he had to admit – the view was quite the payout. Where did she even get the strength to maintain her grip for such a prolonged time, anyway?
“What are you laughing at, you creep?” – Of course, trouble never traveled solo, as Willow approached Wail’s position with the usual mean intro. At this point – the warlock’s grin turned into a frown, his eyes gazing down to the bottom of the wall. He wouldn’t be contemplating suicide, now would he?
“Nothing. Was getting ready to log off. Time to get some well-deserved rest” – Wail shot back, only to redirect his gaze back to the breathtaking view beyond the walls once again. A desperate attempt to leave with a pleasant feeling and thoughts of a successful defense.
Willow would have none of it.
“Well-deserved? The heck did you do that was so taxing?” – Her lips twisted into a sarcastic grin – as if she was actually teasing Wail at this point. What a sadist – she just couldn’t leave the poor man alone, could she now?
“Leave? No! Don’t leave!” – In addition, the announcement seemed to startle Vivian as well, as she whined, while clutching Wail’s leg even harder.
“Don’t worry dear, you’ll be better off without this pedophile around” – Soothingly did Willow attempt to comfort, as she bent down ever so slightly. As if attempting to get on the same level with the kid both physically and emotionally.
“No!” – Stubborn just like someone Wail dreaded to know, the little kid refused to listen, as she held on tenaciously.
Wail looked down on the kid with seeming interest – only to meet her raised little head. Teary green eyes staring back at him with anticipation. A truly heart-gripping moment, to be sure.
Slowly, the crazed magician’s lips twisted into a wicked sneer. An ominous mockery of a smile, while the eyes glittered mischievously. He wouldn’t, would he?
*******
A frail ray of light seeped into the gloom of the room – entering it through a narrow crack in between the curtains. Landing upon the dusty floor – a few empty plastic bottles and discarded pairs of socks seen littered across the unlit room. In the corner of it – stood a large contraption. A capsule used to connect to Alternative Reality. A skinny creature seen laying in it through its glass lid.
Almost reluctantly, the creature stirred, as the glass lid opened-up - a noticeable stench of cooled sweat entering the unlit room together with it.
With grunts and the occasional curse, the creature took off a freakishly looking contraption from his head, revealing a balding head of untidy hair. And a glare that would make a baby cry.
Luke.
“That will show her…”– Before he even stepped out of the contraption, Luke was already mumbling under his breath. Words spoken to no one in particular. A habit one gets accustomed to after years of solitude and lack of social contact. Though it was more of a condition in Luke’s case at this point – as he probably only got to converse normally with himself. He might even use a mirror sometimes to simulate real interaction.
With grunts – he stretched his sleepy and mostly non-existent muscles once out of the capsule, only to grab a half-full bottle of water from a nearby nightstand after finishing that mockery of a workout. An untidy one-person bed present near it, placed in the opposite corner from the capsule – which was barely two meters away.
After emptying the bottle – Luke quickly changed clothes, discarding the sweaty green t-shirt that he wore previously. Only to replace it with a white one. A color that worked quite well with the tone of his own skin. A sickly pale that gave away how little sun this cave-creature came in contact with.
With unhurried steps, his bare feet disturbing the layer of dust upon it – Luke exited the room, entering another one. A few couches and a table strewn across the middle of it, a kitchen present against the wall on the opposite side of it. A few closed doors, with one being made of metal present in sight – the most likely exit from the apartment.
Luke traversed the ever-present gloom with the same unhurried tempo – eyes locked upon the kitchen. They narrowed to slits every now and again due to the strips of light encountered. A few rays shinning into the gloom through cracks in the curtains on the other side of the room. Barely able to dispel even a portion of the darkness. Which did not seem to bother Luke in any way, shape or form. He might actually like it that way. What a creep.
Eventually – he approached the fridge present on the very outskirts of the kitchen, only to open it and gaze into its meager content. Searching for much needed sustenance – something he was having a hard time finding, as the search took a while. Only to end when he settled upon a few slices of bread and some smoked sausage.
Sadly, before the man could enjoy his well-deserved meal – a loud knocking reached his ears. A slamming upon the metal door from the other side that practically demanded attention.
With a sigh and a heavy heart – Luke abandoned his long-sought-after meal and approached the door. Only to open it without even looking who was behind it.
“You god damn prick, how could you just leave like that?! Do you have any idea how much comforting I had to do until she stopped crying?!” – Loud and obnoxious as usual, Willow started as she glared upon the dreadful visage of Luke, only to stop half-way. With a swish of long black hair – she turned away, while covering her beautiful facial features with a palm. A light layer of make-up already present upon it.
Luke couldn’t help but wonder with furrowed brows – when the heck did she have the time for any of it? Especially when Luke was the first one to log-off from Alternative Reality.
She was clothed in black and white. A morbid combination of colors, yet they fit her so well – as usual. A sleeveless t-shirt, tight-fitting shorts. Nothing amazing. Yet her looks were just the sort of pretty that clicked with the man – the sort that he could not help but perceive as beautiful.
“God, do you ever shower? You smell like a gym!” – As usual, she packed quite the verbal punch, which did help to dispel the spell Luke was under, his daze swept aside like dust under a breeze after that one single comment. The very air was practically knocked from him, as if Luke was kicked in the stomach. Quite the effective way to get rid of all those annoying admirers, one could only be amazed by her ability.
“Of course I do! I showered two days ago!” – Somewhat outraged by the baseless accusation, he shot back. A come-back, which did not seem to have had much of a positive effect on the mean female. Spoken sooner than his brain could properly digest the words – since he probably wouldn’t have had the time for them otherwise. Speed was her advantage, not his.
Willow could only sigh to that, as she uncovered her face and looked at the bony creature with eyes of pity.
“Whatever. Come with me – I have something urgent to show you” – Without even giving an opportunity to think or express an opinion – the vixen grabbed Luke by the elbow and dragged the poor man from his safe-haven. His respite. His cave of shattered dreams.
“What? Now?!” – Taken by surprise, he could barely utter a few shouts of dissatisfaction – while closing the door on
the way out like an obedient puppy. Did not manage to lock it though. Good thing he didn’t have much to lose in case of theft – the only valuable thing being his capsule. Luke never did like keeping physical money on him.
“Yes. Now.” – Completely one-sidedly, Willow dragged the barely willing Luke into her own apartment – one with a similar layout, yet a completely different level of cleanliness. Not a speck of dust or discarded clothes in sight. Amazing. He could only hope that she cleaned the place up before dragging him inside – as to maintain at least a speck of self-confidence regarding his own apartment.
Relatively worn furniture was present here and there – a few pieces of electronics visible as well. With a huge video screen hanging on a wall on the opposite side of the room. Present in between two curtain-covered windows - the room filled with a relative gloom. At least the two had one thing in common.
With a loud drumming did Luke’s heart beat – against his better judgement. A cold sweat rousing nervousness coming into play – for it was the first time he was at a woman’s home. Heck, he even wondered what was worse – having a woman in his home or the other way around. So consumed by a rapidly swirling imagination was Luke, that he was actually startled by Willow’s next action.
“Sit down” – She said, while pointing a fragile finger towards a nearby couch. A scoff escaping her lips after noticing how Luke jolted due to her actions – “Relax already, it’s not like I’m going to eat you” – An opportunity to add injury to insult used moments later.
It did help in its own way though – as Luke finally gathered himself with sheer force of will. Or anger – as he glared upon the indicated couch and finally sat down. His fragile pride wounded.