by Ink Bamboo
With this, Zaros hoped his former villagers would finally be able to rest in peace, no longer tormented by the greed and selfishness of the living. This didn’t lessen the pain in his heart, but it did offer him some solace.
*Clap, clap*
Unfortunately, the battle wasn’t over just yet. Slow, deliberate claps drew Zaros’s attention to the one responsible for raising the bodies of the villagers.
A beautiful black-haired, crimson-eyed woman walked up to him. Her eyes carried a certain playfulness to them, while her demeanor made it obvious that she didn’t mind the grim atmosphere created by the carnage around them.
“I wouldn’t have expected you to take Bernard on and win,” she admitted. “I told the fool he should have gone to play with me at the town’s center for a while. He should have known better.”
Michael looked at her, his eyes filling with realization. The smile that had appeared on his face after Zaros’s victory had now entirely vanished. He knew who this woman was, and more importantly, the danger she represented.
“Young, crimson eyes, and black hair. Wanted for the massacre of dozens of towns in the northern parts of the mainland. Hated for her perverted desecration of public figures’ dead bodies. The ‘unholy banshee’, Noelle,” he said.
“Oh, you’ve heard of me?” asked Noelle, hints of playfulness coming from her voice. “Good things, I hope.”
Michael’s face looked tense, a clear indication of his disagreement.
“By the way, that cute white robe of yours reminds me of someone I just met,” said Noelle. “I must say, he was quite a persistent fellow. We really had a blast playing together. Perhaps, after all of this is over, I’ll take his body back home with me.”
Michael’s eyes widened as a spark of anger appeared in them. His appearance now resembled Zaros’s from a few minutes ago. It was clear that her words had struck a chord within him.
“You filthy whore! Tell me what you did to Lucille!”
“Come on, there’s no need to get angry. We only played for a while, you know. If you’re that desperate to see him, you can become my toy as well. That way we can play together.”
“Damn it!” cried the priest. The loss of his friend and partner had dealt him a severe psychological blow.
“For the time being,” said Noelle, “I brought someone else for you to play with. He’s a new toy of mine.”
After saying those words, a tall and well-built figure with flaxen hair and red glyphs around his body walked forward. It was Slyfox. No, Slyfox’s undead remains.
Chapter 30
Revelations.
“Do you have no respect for the dead?” protested Zaros. Slyfox’s appearance had reignited the foul mood he had when he saw his fellow villagers in such a state.
Noelle tilted her head to the side. ‘In what way am I disrespecting the dead?’ her face seemed to ask. As far as she was concerned, the undead under her command were nothing but playthings created in order to appease her need for entertainment.
Even Amro was disappointed at such a shorthanded understanding of what it meant to use the laws of death. While some degree of freedom was allowed when it came to every person’s understanding of a law, Noelle’s complete disregard for the dead irked him quite a lot. Whoever was in charge of educating the priests for his church would be in a great deal of trouble when he got to meet them face to face.
“Do you really fail to see them as anything other than playthings?” Zaros asked. “They were once living humans like us. Their lives, goals, and regrets don’t simply cease to exist because they die!”
That’s right, thought Amro. The correct way to raise the undead is by getting their consent in life. Undeath is an extension the law of death grants in order for people to give meaning to their lives. Her short-sighted views on the matter is what forces her to use those glyphs to bind her will onto those bodies. Pseudo-undead like hers will never be true incarnations of the law of death.
“You know you’re no fun, right? I make these toys, it’s only fair their everything belongs to me. So what if they used to have great desires while they were alive? They no longer are, they’re dead,” answered Noelle, turning her irked expression towards Slyfox’s undead-self. “Go after him, boy, teach him to respect his elders.”
At her command, the undead Slyfox shot after Zaros, using beast-like movements to try to tackle the boy. His ferociousness rivaled what it had been in life, but that was all there was to his moves. His tackle lacked skill and was nothing more than an instinctive and feral answer to Noelle’s earlier command.
The undead Slyfox didn’t have a chance from the start.
His body was promptly thrown against the ground. With a swift cut behind his knees, Zaros had lacerated his tendons, taking away his ability to run. Despite the impressive pain tolerance the undead could have, they weren’t able to move without the proper tissues needed to support their movements.
“That’s no fun,” said Noelle. “You’re supposed to run and cry for help when someone comes after you.”
Zaros ignored her as he carried Slyfox’s flailing corpse before throwing him towards Michael.
“Bind him,” he ordered.
“Shouldn’t I just purify him instead?” asked the priest.
“Just bind him,” said Zaros. “I’ll deal with her somehow.”
“Are you ignoring me, boy?” complained Noelle. “I thought you were a cute child, but it’s now clear to me that you’re just an ill-mannered brat. You might have dealt with that particular toy, but how will you deal with the rest?”
Another group of undead came into sight. Unlike the previous ones, however, these were covered in armor common to mercenary groups. The markings on them also seemed different. While they had the same reddish hue as those of the other undead, the composition and structure of the glyphs were comprised of an entirely different pattern.
It took a moment before Zaros recognized the undead beings before him. To a certain extent, part of him had even expected their appearance after seeing his desecrated villagers.
They were the group of mercenaries who had once attacked him and his village. They still had the same weapons, the same armor, and the same faces as before. All etched deep into his memory, making them impossible to forget. Only one face was missing amongst them, but he soon found out why.
It was a headless undead with his missing head cradled under his left arm. It was wearing an armor more elaborate than that of his companions, and even the eyes on the detached face seemed to carry a hint of intelligence. He was the man who had once been the leader of the mercenary group. The one who had revealed his identity as the king’s vassal in an attempt to sway Amro to his side. It was none other than the dead captain of the army’s 22nd Division.
“These are my masterpieces, boy. Without souls to resist my control, I was able to craft the most beautiful and obedient toys. I was even able to make a Dullahan! They won’t rebel against me, nor will they move without my orders. They are my perfect creations!” boasted Noelle. “And I have you to thank for them. It’s thanks to your usage of our legacy that I was able to get my hands on bodies in such perfect conditions. To not even leave a trace of their souls, just how did you do it? No, nevermind. Just hand over the legacy and I’ll be able to do it myself.”
That’s fundamentally wrong, thought Amro. They aren’t perfect creations, they are just dumbed-down adaptations. For an undead to truly achieve perfection, they should still have a will, a consciousness, and a soul. Achieving a compromise with that soul is the true perfection of this craft.
“Legacy?” asked Zaros. Is she talking about Amro? Is he related to them?
All he knew about his partner was that he was some kind of spirit with unknown origins. Amro was knowledgeable about all sort of things, but he was extremely secretive about his past.
“If you won’t give it up, it just means I’ll have to take it by force,” said Noelle, as she turned around to look at the undead mercenaries. “Now, child
ren, go and rip him to shreds!”
Seconds passed by, but nothing happened. The undead stood in place without making a move. They refused to listen to her commands.
This took Noelle by surprise; these undead were supposed to be her ultimate creations. Their obedience was a given.
“Attack him! Now!” she ordered again, thinking her command might have been a bit too complex for the undead to understand. To her chagrin, however, they still didn’t move.
“That was bound to happen,” Amro told Zaros. “I vanished their souls myself, so my imprint is still in their bodies. Under no circumstances will they raise their blades against us, for their bodies still fear me instinctively.”
However, Noelle wasn’t as happy as Zaros was with the situation. “You! What did you do to them? They are my toys! Mine!” Her playful behavior nowhere to be found, replaced only by the insanity of someone who had their favorite thing in the whole world ruined.
“I did nothing,” said Zaros shrugging along with a coy smile. Amro’s words had given him the confidence to face the woman before him.
Seeing the curve of Zaros’s lips caused Noelle to grow flustered. She was convinced the boy had done something to her new toys. In fact, she believed he must have used the legacy of their church to steal her control over them.
It doesn’t matter, she thought. As long as I take his life, I’ll be able to look for the legacy with plenty of time.
Reaching a compromise with herself, Noelle started to laugh. “You sure think of yourself as a strong-minded boy, don’t you? Facing me and my toys and still managing to hold your ground. I have to admit that’s certainly impressing in some ways. As a matter of fact, it makes me want to test your spirit myself.”
Zaros’s instincts warned him to stop Noelle before she could make her next move. Thus, he took out the blessed-steel dagger, preemptively running forward in an attempt to strike her throat. Alas, before he could, Noelle made her move.
Extending her hand towards Zaros, Noelle voiced her command, “Mind Flay.”
Zaros felt lightheaded and found himself unable to control his body anymore. He momentarily lost the ability to see, and by the time he regained his vision, he found himself standing alone in a black void. An expanse of infinite darkness extended across the horizon. The scenery he found himself in was simultaneously familiar yet unknown.
“Is this your doing?” asked Zaros inwardly, attempting to get an answer from Amro. He felt confused as to why his partner would pull him back at a moment like this.
Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t Amro who answered back.
“Welcome to my domain, boy,” whispered Noelle from behind Zaros. “You must be surprised. This is my realm, somewhere where I reign supreme; not that I expect you to understand. None of your petty tricks will be able to save you here.”
A crimson-tipped spear appeared from the void, falling gently onto Noelle’s pale and delicate hand. At the same time, chains of darkness coiled around Zaros’s arms, robbing him of his ability to move. Her intentions were clear.
“I will take my time to savor your screams, your pain, your agony. I will have you tell me where you placed our legacy and how you knew where to find it,” she said. “Once I’m done with you, I’ll just start over again, enjoying myself until all that is left of you is a husk of your former self. You will beg me for mercy, but all you will receive in return will be despair. I will enjoy this game until your soul can no longer stand it.”
“Sounds like a fun game,” said a voice from the endless expanse of darkness.
“What?” Shock laced Noelle’s voice. She spun around in an attempt to locate the source of that comment. Aside from her, no one should be able to speak so freely in her soul domain. It couldn’t be the boy before her, for he was currently bound by her will, unable to escape. There was no way someone as young as him could have the mental fortitude to resist her soul’s pressure over his.
She looked around warily until a rift opened up in the endless void. A boy, identical to the one trapped by her chains, strutted out from the darkness.
“Were you looking for me?” he asked.
These two boys are not the same person, Noelle realized. His gaze, his stride and even the inflections in his voice were all completely different. She was in front of something else – an apex predator.
“Who are you? How were you able to sneak in here?” she asked. Her rational side told her she was still in control, but her instincts were screaming at her to end the connection with the boy’s soul.
“Me? You should already know me,” answered Amro. “You claim to belong to my church, to know my teachings. Yet here you are, unable to recognize me.”
As he said those words, Amro shifted into a black-robed entity, a farmer, a reaper, a warrior, and many other forms, before he finally settled back into Zaros’s appearance.
Noelle was taken aback. Her knees shook as she realized the situation she was in was something far exceeding her expectations.
Impossible. This should have been impossible.
Many would have taken those transformations to be an useless display, nameless characters with no meaning behind their image. Noelle, however, was different. She had seen them before in the innermost parts of the main temple of her church. She had been allowed inside only once in her life, but the characters represented by each of the statues were still fresh in her mind. How could she ever forget the images her god had once taken?
Now here she was, facing someone who claimed to be him. And how could she deny it? Both his aura and appearance had coincided with those of the statues in the chambers of her church. A place reserved only for the head-priest and his personal disciples.
“Kneel,” ordered Amro.
Noelle instinctively followed his command. Her legs lost all their strength as she felt an unimaginable pressure fall onto her shoulders. The crimson-tipped spear slipped from her hands as she was forced to bow to the god in front of her. Her mind grew muddled and her body heavy. Without permission to move or speak, she wouldn’t be able to do either. She had lost control over her own soul realm.
Amro approached Zaros. The latter was still bound by the chains that had melded into the darkness. With a simple wave of his hands, all the bindings trapping his host vanished into nothingness.
Zaros fell to the ground, still incapable of moving because of the foreign suppression binding his soul. Slowly, his gaze rose to meet Amro’s, confusion reflected inside.
Without bothering to explain, Amro simply tapped his forehead as he had done many times before. Immediately, the boy vanished from the soul realm.
He must be it, thought Noelle. Inside this realm, no one aside from her should have been able to control anything. Despite that, the man before her had created and destroyed on a whim. His authority over her soul even bigger than her own.
“Now, tell me, who’s in charge of my church at this time?” commanded Amro. His words left no room for deception nor hesitation. They demanded only one thing: complete obedience.
“My lord, after that accursed day, the one who took command of your church was master Argent,” she answered.
“Argent, was it?” The name didn’t register inside Amro’s memories, meaning the man who had taken control of the church wasn’t one of his inner circle. Those foolish followers of his probably took his request too seriously that day, sacrificing even themselves in order to provide power for his fight against the other gods.
“My lord, come back with me to the church,” requested Noelle. “Everyone will sing praises for your descent. We will be able to face that damned Church of Life and once again and spread your authority amongst all the kingdoms and nations. Everyone has been waiting for your return ever since the prophecy was divined.”
“A prophecy?” asked Amro. Mortals shouldn’t have the ability to to peer into the divine. Even if this fragment of his former self was no longer a god, no seer should have been able to predict his reappearance.
“Yes, my lord.
One of our seers gave his life to foretell the following, ‘In the southern forest of a war-broken kingdom, our Lord’s last gift will appear. With it, the world will undergo the winds of change one last time.’ In his final moments, the seer also told us that it was fundamental for us to take control of this gift. To see it was not a gift, but you yourself who came down, I can’t help but rejoice.”
“I see, so that was it,” said Amro, realizing the meaning behind the prophecy. “Thanks for the information.”
With a wave of his hand, chains of darkness formed from the void, coiling around Noelle’s hands and feet.
“Now, I remember something about you wanting to play a game. I can’t help but disagree with your methods, but they’ll be very useful for correcting your misunderstandings on what it means to follow my path. I’ll ingrain these teachings into your very soul, so you can serve me better in your next life.”
Misunderstandings? thought Noelle. How come? I’ve learned everything perfectly from my teacher!
She wanted to say it wasn’t her fault. How she had learned everything from someone else.
Alas, once she tried, she found herself unable to speak. Unable to even plead mercy.
✽✽✽
Only a few seconds had passed in the outside world, but many things had happened during them. The first one to notice them was Michael. Slyfox had grown still, no longer flailing around in resistance. After that, the undead mercenaries collapsed. Their bodies turned into a goo composed of rotten flesh and coagulated blood.
Not long after that, Zaros’s body fell to his knees, ready to hit the floor. Fortunately, Michael was able to catch him. He wasn’t sure what had transpired, but the words ‘Mind Flay’ that came from Noelle’s mouth gave him a pretty good idea. That spell was known as a forbidden art even amongst necromancers, for its risks were too great. Confrontation of souls, where the mental resilience of an individual was faced against the caster, had incredible risks, even for the one using the spell.