by SlyOkami
“Disgusting.” Pyra spat before slamming her right gauntlet into the undead’s head, bursting it like a bubble onto the wall.
“W-Who are you?” Kayle then stuttered out, crawling away from the tall and muscular dreadblade captain. A fearsome sight alongside Pyra’s oversized iron gauntlets and pitch-black leather armour.
“You are safe now, Kayle Selene, that is all you need to know.” Pyra said sternly, turning away from her. “Priestess Makaela wishes not a hair to be plucked off this one, destroy anybody that would wish her harm.” Pyra ordered her underlings.
“Yes, Ma’am.” The xilfir bellowed in response.
Pyra moved to fade into shadows, “W-Wait!” When Kayle called out once more, having grabbed Pyra’s left leg.
Pyra glanced down at her with annoyance, “My men are dying for you, what else do you want?” she hissed in question.
Kayle shrunk beneath her gaze, “Makaela…Who is Makaela?” she asked with wide eyes, her voice a squeak. She let go of the xilfir’s leg and leaned away.
Pyra’s eyes narrowed, “Do you speak elven?” she asked, names sounded different when said in either common or elven and Pyra hadn’t said Makaela’s name in common.
“N-No, but I know both pronunciations…W-Who is this person?” Kayle asked again.
“Why do you wish to know?” Pyra asked sternly.
Kayle gulped down her spit as she clutched her chest, trying to ease her fear, battling the chill that flowed through her bones. Fear of the assassins that wanted her life was bad enough, but seeing the notorious dreadblades, meeting Pyra ‘The Night’s Fist’ up close like this made her heart race unlike anything else.
“Makaela…She? She is xilfir isn’t she?” Kayle asked with struggling resolve.
Pyra turned to face her fully again, “Why.Do.You.Ask?” she worded out, a dangerous shine about her eyes.
Kayle met her terrifying gaze, struggling to hold eye contact as she answered. “She killed my mother, I need to know why.”
Pyra’s eyes widened in surprise, “What?” she unconsciously asked in elven, ”Does your sister know?” she then asked in common. Pyra wasn’t aware of this.
“Huh?” Kayle’s resolve turned to confusion at her question.
“Thea Selene, your sister. Does she know?” Pyra urged.
“N-No…at least I don’t think she does! I-I investigated on my own.” Kayle explained.
Suddenly the shadows that fought the xilfir below exploded aside, “Ladies…Is this really the time to chat about such things?” clearing the steps for Kai to ascend.
Pyra turned to see the guildmaster standing before her dreadblades, “Stay out of it, halfblood.” She spat at him, briefly glancing at Kayle she then turned to give them her back. “Protect the girl. And watch that filth.” She ordered her dreadblades, dissipating into shadows right then.
Kai sighed, “But I just climbed up here…” fixing his glasses before facing a very confused Kayle who stared at him. “I apologise in advance for the wall.” Kai said with a brief bow, turning to the staircase’s wall before walking through it. The stone turning to dust as it touched his form, leaving behind a hole of his shape.
Kayle stared into the hole taking outside, wondering if he had just leapt off the mansion’s second floor…
-
* * *
-
Outside the city,
The regrowing forest.
-
Miasma filled the air, violet tendrils corrupting the trees and brush which were purified only days before. The land was being drained of its energy, sucked dry by the miasma as mana flowed through it and into the caster. A tall cloaked man coated in flowing shadows, wielding a wooden stave, cracking with the violet energy that flowed through it.
“Ah, you’ve found me.” The shadow hissed as Pyra materialized nearby, lightning surging through her entire body.
“Alf? You…You’re no common necromancer.” Pyra mused, the shadow had spoken in elven.
The shadow chuckled coldly, “No sister, I am not.” He said, lowering his hood and revealing an old dark elf.
Pyra’s eyes narrowed, “Traitor.”
The necromancer shook his head, “If betrayal was the price of freedom, then yes, I am indeed a traitor.” he said, wearing a crooked smile over his warped skin.
“Freedom? Is selling your soul to demons for power what you call freedom?” Pyra asked, clenching her fists and causing the energy about her to focus within her gauntlets.
The necromancer chuckled once again, “The concept of freedom is to make your own choices, joining the Pact was mine just as many others’.”
“Then we must be both free then, I choose to follow master and mistress.” Pyra said, resolute in her words as she charged forwards.
“I guess we are, we only chose different paths to freedom.” The necromancer agreed, turning and raising his staff towards her. “Rise and follow, march and obey! Dark Arts; Undeath School; Revive the fallen!” he chanted, the violet energy within his staff suddenly flaring a dark green as tendrils burst out of the tip and pierced into the ground.
Out of the dry ground emerged skeletons of old, some bare naked while others wielding weapons and armour. Dozens of them pulling themselves out of the ground, their eye sockets surging with green energy as they cackled in unison.
Pyra rushed by the surfacing undead, the skeletal minions too slow in their rise allowing her to run past. Only to be met with Pact cultists, the violet eyed shadowmen appearing in her path with blades of darkness at the ready.
Pyra slid to a stop, “Fuel, Burn, Surge and Explode! Draconic Martial Arts; Storm’s Strike!” slamming her gauntlets into the ground she chanted. The golden energy that had formed within her gauntlets flowing down into the dirt before her, suddenly sending the forest quaking as the ground rose and shattered beneath them.
The cultists briefly stopped in their tracks, struggling to keep balance as suddenly lightning struck from below. Several tendrils of golden energy rose from the ground beneath them, surging through their bodies and charring them alive before striking up into the sky. The tendrils merged together, forming the flapping of wings before dissipating into the air.
Pyra moved to rush at the necromancer once more but found that the dark mage was gone from her sight, in his stead were his skeletal minions joined by more shadowy cultists that moved to surround her.
She glanced down at the dead cultists, kicking off one of their hoods revealing another dark elf, beneath the rest she also recognised some bestia. “So it is true what they say about the Pact, traitors and slaves making up the lower hierarchy.” She scoffed, “Is it true that your masters are demon bound too?”
“Still trying to make conversation captain? Did you truly come here alone? Oh how foolish, you underestimated me didn’t you?” The necromancer asked, its voice echoing throughout the dying forest.
Its cruel chuckle wafting with the breeze.
As the undead approached her, the assassins awaiting an opening behind them.
“Alone? No, you’re the one who’s underestimated me. I simply arrived first.” Pyra said with a cold smile, a mist of shadow flowing out from the surrounding forest, blades of lightning suddenly arching about the assassins.
The shadowmen tried to parry and evade but there were too many weapons flying about, the minions too slow to even try, each being torn apart as xilfir fell upon them like a sudden storm.
Pyra chuckled, shaking her hands freely, her gauntlets rattling as she shook off the numbness of her previous spell. “Beside Zentha, The Poison Queen. Deadliest among us. Beside Ascal, The Moon’s Tactician. The smartest among us. How do you think I stood out among those monsters of nature?” Pyra asked calmly, closing her eyes as she stood amidst the massacre.
“Why was I special? Why was I our priestess’s favourite? Why was I given Druvia, its King and that girl to protect all at once? A simple reason, as my worth is a simple one.” A golden light engulfed her body, ”I am, The Night’
s Fist. I am everywhere. I am every shadow beneath the moon’s glow. And nothing, nothing can escape the night.”
Briefly she paused, clenching her fists before disappearing completely.
Her words still filled the forest as she lay invisible, “I am the hunter of hunters.” Pyra chanted, “The predator of those would think me their prey.” her words flowing with mana reaching the necromancer as they made their escape.
”Lord, one who I would call master, lend me your strength!” Pyra shouted, appearing before the dark mage as they raised their staff up at her, tendrils of violet miasma rising from the ground all around them.
“For I am your hound.” Pyra said, opening her eyes and revealing a violent golden glow surging through them.
“Hell School; Miasmic Summon!” The necromancer quickly chanted, the tendrils of miasma merging and thickening into blade ended tentacles, seemingly not so ethereal anymore.
The miasmic blades numbered in the hundreds, and as the necromancer clenched their staff, his skin seemed to age with each passing moment. Yet they smiled, “We made the pact, there is no return! There is no hiding! There is no esca-” he tried to speak.
But every sound was muted out beneath Pyra’s voice.
“Draconic Martial Arts; Custom Art; Light’s Shadow.” She finished her chant, her body turning into a blur of white light that flowed amongst the miasma, each summoned limb of hell’s energy being torn to shreds at the passing light’s touch.
The necromancer struggled with his staff, green energy flowing out of his body and into the violet flames that burned within his casting weapon, as it cracked and shattered within his hands. The violet energy exploded outwards meeting the golden light that was Pyra, the two energies clashing for several moments before the golden light pierced through, scattering the miasmic flames.
Pyra took form before the now kneeling mage, golden streaks of lightning engulfing her entire body, markings of gold flowing through her skin like tattoos. Her armour previously common iron and dark grey in colour, now pitch black with the runic tattoos flowing through it as well.
The necromancer chuckled coldly, his eyes were blacked out as violet energy pulsed within his veins.
“Fool, this is the price of hell, body and soul you’ve sold to the Devil.” Pyra said, “And for what? For a brotherhood who care not for their own, for a creed of maniacs who lack any sort of morality. Tell me traitor, I set you under trial before our lord’s mercy, I shall be your judge and jury. My fist, your executioner.”
Pyra grabbed the dark elf by his throat, her gauntlet larger than even his head. She held him up, raising him off the ground. “What say you!?” She asked with fury in her eyes.
But the necromancer only laughed further, “We made the pact…There is no return! There is no hiding! There is…No…Escape! Custom Magic; The Pact!” he chanted, laughing maniacally as the violet energy that flowed through his veins suddenly flared all over his body, his eyes shining out with rays of violet light that then escaped his mouth, ears and nose too.
Pyra’s eyes widened as she slammed the man to the ground, kneeling before him as he choked under her clenched fists. “Lord grant me the strength!” She chanted with urgency, as the golden light flowed out from her armour and skin, down into her gauntlets before forming at her finger tips. “Empower my hand to become your shield! Infuse my body to become your armour! Xilfir Text; Erikathyr; Moon Barrier!” Pyra screamed as her body blurred, golden energy flowing out of herself and into the laughing necromancer beneath her.
“No you wont! This city is under my protection! I’ll die before I let you destroy it!” Pyra exclaimed, sinking the man deeper into the dirt as the ground around them seemed to lose its gravity, stones and chunks of earth floating up into the air around them.
Pyra screamed as she felt her body being torn apart, golden energy flowing out of her and into the necromancer. A dark violet miasma flowing out of the necromancer and into her own body.
The dark energy of hell filled her, burning agony flooding every surface of her body as she resisted the cultist’s suicidal spell.
But it was too much.
The miasma was too much for even her to handle.
She felt her mana reaching its limit, she felt her soul suddenly closing up to her connection with Erikathyr. She couldn’t ask for more strength from their bond, she had already taken too much upon herself.
And it was too late, the other xilfir were too far and wouldn’t make it in time. (“Don’t come, leave immediately.”) she ordered them through their common bond.
The city would be saved, her comrades would survive the minor blast that would occur. She was sure of that much.
She was also sure, this was the last night she would walk with the living.
(“I regret nothing”) She thought, making peace with herself as the miasma approached her mind.
Screaming in agony all the while as she shut her eyes, Pyra then felt her thoughts separate from her body. (“I am Xilfir. For this world’s survival. For master Erikathyr’s resolve I harden my own. This life I give in sacrifice!”)
She prepared herself for the void that was sure to follow her death.
Heaven was out of reach for her actions. She was sure.
Hell was only assured to her people.
Yet death, did not come.
Pyra was confused as she felt her mind reconnect with her body, the agony that briefly resurfaced was quickly fading away. The miasma that filled her body flowed out, gushing out of her, as if something was forcing it out.
Until she felt empty, void of energy as she opened her eyes.
Pyra glanced over the ash beneath her unclenching hands, the necromancer’s burnt remains falling off her gauntlets as she moved.
“Hm, I presumed the leader to be strong but I never thought they’d be a Pact priest. To use such magic…” Said a voice from ahead of her. Pyra looked up, meeting Kai’s glowing eyes. Ice blue shimmering within his left, golden light surging within his right. “Putting aside all the confrontations between your people and my association of adventurers. It seems we stand on the same side at the moment, and I’m afraid this world will need all the help it can get its hands on.”
He smiled, an empty smirk beneath his calculative gaze. “Even if that aid is murderers and thieves.”
“Y-You…saved me?” Pyra asked with wide surprised eyes.
Kai nodded.
“You? A half-blood? Saving me?” Pyra repeated in disbelief.
Kai rolled his eyes, “Yes fool.”
“A-And I’m going to have to live with that on my conscience?” Pyra mumbled, glancing down at the ash before looking back up at Kai. “Have mercy and kill me.”
Kai sighed while turning away, “You’re delusional from mana exhaustion, it’ll pass.” he said as he walked away, “I’d rather not have that xilfir bounty on my head anyway.”
Pyra grimaced in annoyance, she wasn’t joking although she did feel dizzy. She watched the adventurer’s guild master walk off into the forest, a mystery that man was, even to the xilfir. All they knew about him was his parentage. Which in of itself was a tightly held secret.
(“Kai Voltair, Son of Alan the immortal and a Dark Elf mother…”) Pyra mused as she struggled into standing up, several dreadblades fading into existence before her right then.
Three of them kneeling beneath her tired gaze.
“The target is secured. The enemy has fallen, we have several prisoners.” One reported.
“Free the prisoners, follow them to their hideouts.” Pyra ordered, pausing to take a deep breath and gather herself. “Once there, kill them and all inside. Collect anything potentially useful, then burn it all down.”
The one xilfir nodded before dissipating into the night.
“You, contact priestess Makaela’s unit and report this event.” Pyra told another, the dark elf also nodding before disappearing.
She then turned to the last one, “Take me to where Kayle Selene is. We have much to talk
about…”
Ch 24 - Interlude; Brewing Evil
Someplace
Some time
-
Amidst the dark room a violet hue radiated from the walls where vines of corruption made root. It was the only light within, its source the bulges of black pus that hung from them. The light reflected off the floor where runic carvings where made into the stone, forming a large magic circle across the room. Within each carved-out line ran rivers of blood, the red liquid running down the lines and then up into each black fruit-like object.
The blood all originated from the very centre where a mass of mangled flesh rose, like a massive heart it pulsed with rhythm. Dark crimson flesh made up the massive organ, violet lines running through it like veins as blood was pumped through and then out of several pores that lay open on the floor in alignment with the magic circle.
Suddenly the heart stopped beating and in tandem each of the black fruits pulsed violet, the light filling the room entirely as six cloaked figures appeared standing around the central organ.
These six were the leaders of each body, a head for each group that made up the Assassin’s Pact.
“My assassins were slain in both Druvia and Daldorth, I am also receiving reports that the dreadblades invaded my outposts around Druvia.” Said the first in a low harrowing whisper. Cloaked in shadows with violet energy sparking through their eyes, nothing of their appearance could be perceived. The Pact’s head of shadow, Umbra.
“Yes, yes. I have not received word from my minion either. He must have been destroyed by a stronger opponent, your shadows didn’t do a very good job at covering for him it seems.” Snidely said the second. Wearing a dark green robe and hood, this one’s body was entirely wrapped in white bandages also hiding their appearance. Tendrils of green death energy peeked out of their bandaged body, as if being contained yet barely. The Pact’s head of death, Dread.