When Pyrun inserted the key into the keyhole, white fire burst from the hole and spread over the entirety of the wooden frame. Daichi stumbled back in response, but the Guardian didn’t seem to notice the intense heat emanating from the surface. Pyrun threw a confused glance over his shoulder at his lover.
“What’s wrong? It’s an effect more than anything else; it doesn’t do anything.” He said definitively.
Daichi kept the scowl from reaching her face. Pyrun was an idiot. Those flames would have turned her to ash on the breeze had she been the one to turn the key, and he was too stupid to know what kind of magic he was dealing with. She let a flirtatious smile present itself to Pyrun.
“It merely startled me,” she said with a touch of vulnerability that was sure to make Pyrun feel like her masculine protector. It was all a carefully contrived deception. She thought Pyrun was a fool, but he was still a useful idiot. It would be because of him that she was allowed to complete her mission. That, alone, was enough for her to grant him a small mercy.
The doors opened inward of their own accord. A small chamber lay beyond the portal, and Pyrun casually entered the room and beckoned for Daichi to follow. She didn’t come immediately. She glanced around the frame of the doors and tried to look for any magic that might activate upon her entrance. She studied the room beyond with a practiced air. Any trace of the flirtatious woman had been whisked away and, in her place, stood the Ambassador. She took note of the coinage spread carelessly on the floor. It wasn’t a hefty sum by any means, but it was stacked in piles around the room like a dragon’s hoard. Daichi figured there were still some ancient instincts that couldn’t be suppressed by the Scourge’s modernity. She spied the target of her mission just to the side of Pyrun. The sword was leaning against the wall like a neglected heirloom. Its Stygian edge didn’t seem any more mystical than any other, but Daichi wouldn’t question the information that she had received from the Emperor, blessed be his name.
She met Pyrun’s gaze and grinned evilly before stepping inside. “Perhaps you should close the doors behind us, Pyrun.”
The Guardian detected something in the woman’s tone, but he couldn’t decide what it was. He didn’t think she had ever called him by his first name. After a last confused glance, he walked back toward the door, and Daichi passed by him, trailing a finger across his chest. The motion elicited a twitching sensation in his loins that made him forget all about her tone. He closed and locked the door behind him before turning toward the room again.
When he turned, he saw that Daichi now wielded the neglected Vallyr sword in one hand. She was studying it intently and swinging it experimentally. Pyrun wasn’t concerned. He was a well-trained practitioner of the Way, and he was confident that Daichi had never received any kind of martial training. She had told him as much when they had laid together last. He decided to tease her.
“Why don’t you put that sword down, and I’ll let you play with…” before Pyrun could finish his sentence, Daichi looked up, murder in her eyes, and plunged forward with the blade. Even with hi distraction, Pyrun wasn’t so easily defeated by someone who wasn’t as agile and strong as he was. He dodged the swing entirely and used a palm to slap it out of the way. He rushed forward and allowed his instinct to take over. Raising both fists, he used an open palm strike to smash the woman’s nose. The motion caused her to stumble backward and the sword in his hand to arc upward. The move was unexpected that Pyrun was unable to dodge as it scraped against the armor on his thigh and then nicking his wrist. He growled in pain and then cautiously made his way toward the ambassador. If he could, he wanted to take her down alive; his superiors had ordered him to protect her at all costs. The spies had spent considerable effort trying to get as much information out of her as possible. She had a sword, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to. He had his sword, but as soon as he drew it, the fight would become a slaughter.
Ambassador Daichi pressed one fist to her broken nose to stop the bleeding, but it was flowing in streams, and she couldn’t stop it and defeat the Guardian at the same time. She gripped the sword and attacked the man with an overhead chop. Her movements were fast, but Pyrun was quicker, and he dodged it without much effort. He gripped her wrist that held the sword, and a spike of fear shot through her. She summoned fire to her off-hand to end the conflict immediately. Pyrun noticed the magic, and his eyes widened in alarm. He didn’t release her arm and instead pivoted until the sword came free of the ambassador’s hand. Without pausing, he thrust the blade into her gut at the same time that she threw her fireball at his face.
Daichi and Pyrun screamed out at the same time. The noise was an abrupt departure from the joint sounds of passion they had been making earlier that night. The effect of the magic on Pyrun was far more dramatic than the thrust to Daichi’s stomach.
The black fire entered the center of Pyrun’s nose and continued until it pierced through his skull entirely. The force behind the projectile caused Pyrun’s head to explode backward like an opening flower trimmed in black fire. Gore splattered all over Daichi’s face as the Guardian died and slumped to the ground. Even in death, his grasp on the sword was firm. It slid out of her body as he collapsed. She screamed again in pain as it was removed slowly inch by inch.
The Ambassador was loudly panting and shaking from pain and adrenaline as she tried to think about what she needed to do next. She knew that gut wounds were slow to kill, but they were almost inevitable. She couldn’t tell how much damage there was, but gut wounds tended to fester. She needed to clean the injury, but that was more the power of Lucidus’ than her own Lord. Still, she knew she needed to try if she had any hope of finishing the task she had been given. She allowed black fire to spread over her body and burn away every trace of Pyrun from her body, clothes, and sword.
With careful manipulation, she directed the flame into her wound. Typically, the fire wouldn’t harm her body, but she allowed her flesh to become susceptible to its heat. Her voice came out as a ragged wail as she cauterized her wound. She grew dizzy in pain, but she didn’t allow herself to pass out. She had been exposed to worse pain when she had been trained for this role. She wouldn’t fail her emperor or her lord. Once she had cleaned herself and did what she could for her wound, she cast fire from her palm onto Pyrun’s corpse. The spectral quality of the flames allowed it to burn away Pyrun’s body without scent or indication that there was a fire in the room. Soon, Pyrun became ash, blown away by the drafts in the cold, stone palace. Once she finished, she studied the sword again. She could sense that there was an ancient presence sleeping in the blade. It would need to be awakened and then yoked to the purpose of her master.
Once she had done so, she would have accomplished her holy mission, and she could return to Homus. She missed the warmth of its halls and the passions of its people. She had spent too long already on the road, and she missed the home that she rarely spent time in. Once she left Bastion, she could make her way north and inform the border armies of the weakness in the Collective line. They would sweep forward like a raging wildfire, and her purpose would be complete. She just had this one last thing to accomplish.
She focused her will on the blade and allowed the fire to sweep up its length. Spectral Fire had a component that made it, unlike the fire that was used by Lucidus and her followers. Her flames cleansed impurities. The fire of Daichi’s master could eat through barriers, both magical and mundane. It was used on the battlefield to plunge through enemy lines, tear down their fortifications, and disperse their magic. The Ignatum Empire had been undefeated for close to a century. It hadn’t been since Gould ruled the Collective, that they had suffered a defeat. The Emperor, blessed be his name, had allowed the Collective to grow weaker under their corruption until he was ready to put them out of their misery. The forces that he had massed on their borders were a tiny fraction of the armies at his command. The rest of his soldiers were far-flung to the corners of the Empire, where the Ignati fought off multiple opponents. The Emperor didn’t b
elieve in wasting his subjects’ lives unless it was worth the cost, which was why the soul forging Vallyr had been allowed to exist. They were cruel bastards that didn’t know when they had been beaten
This sword was a perfect example of their twisted magic. Instead of dying and shuffling off its mortal coil, a soul still existed in the blade. As Daichi’s flames melted the seal and burned through the mystical and physical bindings, she could feel the presence rousing from its slumber. When the metal had melted into a puddle on the ground, Daichi observed the substance with fire wreathing her form. She wouldn’t allow herself to be surprised by Vallyr magic.
She watched as the metal ascended until it became a black humanoid silhouette. Purple light collected around the figure and shaped it into a more detailed profile with sweeping, cutting movements. It looked like an expert sculptor shaving away excess material. When the black metal had fallen from the figure, it disappeared in a fuchsia-colored spark. At last, the shadow began to resemble a Vallyr man. Color suffused the formerly black shadow until his identity was revealed.
Daichi found herself staring at one of the most well-known figures in the Collective. His name was spoken in hushed whispers. He had been present for the rise and fall of governments around the realm. He had personally toppled more administrations than even his former master, the notorious Patriarch Gould. Many believed that Mors had only held on to the power of the Patriarch because of the man behind the Stygian throne.
Mordryn opened his eyes and studied Ambassador Daichi.
“It has been so long,” he whispered. “I was sleeping so very long. I hoped that I would never wake.” He tilted his head. “Why have you awakened me, Ignati? I am going to kill you for daring to disturb my peace and bringing me back to this damnable world.”
Daichi hadn’t been afraid of many things in her life. However, this man sent shivers running up and down her spine. His words were filled with the promise of a painful death. He had ways of making a soul beg for death, and yet he rarely granted his victims that mercy. Daichi knew that every word he spoke was simply a statement of fact.
“I woke you by order of the Ignatum Emperor, blessed be his name.” The Ambassador bowed to the man as if they were in the middle of a throne room, rather than a small storage closet. She winced as the action aggravated the wound in her belly.
“He hopes that you will accept another chance to defeat the Scourge in their own home.”
Mordryn sniffed the air experimentally. He was drinking in the fear, pain, and recent death in the air. He breathed out slowly as he studied their surroundings.
“This is not the Scourge’s home,” he hissed. “This is the territory of the Collective, and I will return it to its rightful owners.” His eyes met Daichi’s; they glowed with purple light.
“It doesn’t matter though; I will kill the Scourge leaders. I have never been defeated. It was pure luck that allowed them to disperse my mortal form.” He looked at her, and his eyes narrowed, still shining with their violet glow. “I’m hungry, Ignati.”
Daichi didn’t make another sound. She merely sprinted toward the discarded key and plucked it from the floor without a thought for the sight she was giving. Her hands rattled as she placed the key against the keyhole. Her shaking caused her to keep missing, and she wailed in fear. She could feel her death behind her. She heard a sinister chuckle from behind her. She felt herself being lifted off the ground by the back of her neck and abruptly slammed into the door in front of her. Her broken nose shattered further, and the bone in her eye sockets cracked until she felt her eyeballs distending.
Mordryn drew her back from the door and studied her face. “I like my food to be a bit more tenderized,” he said idly. He took a deep breath as the fear and pain mixed with the ammonia smell of urine. “Yes, just a little more,” he said before turning and slamming her into the door again. Her skull started to cave as he slammed her into the thick barrier once, twice, and thrice, before tossing her body to the ground like a forgotten toy. She was still very much alive. Mordryn wasn’t going to kill her so quickly. He disliked the Scourge, but he hated the Ignati. Killing Slate and Shale was business, but killing Ignati was a pleasure. He closed with the woman and started to strip her. He would have his fun, and then he would take her soul for the coming fight.
Mordryn was back.
CHAPTER 21: THE BACKSTAB LANDS
SLATE FELT A sense of exultation wash over him. He had finally reached the next evolution threshold. He had killed both of the Vallyr after interrogating the woman. The interrogation hadn’t been quite the smooth process that he had expected it to be, but that was something he could work on with his evolutions. Now wasn’t the time to play with his abilities. When he made it back to his base of operations within the city, he would find the time to pick some mutations that would help with questioning captives. He needed to find a quiet place to reach his next evolution anyway. He had received two new system messages when he killed and consumed the last opponent.
Congratulations! You have killed one level 55 Vallyr High Lord. You have earned 551,150 experience. You have killed one level 60 Vallyr High Lord. You have earned. 1,134,350 experience. Congratulations! You have reached level 60! You have consumed two Vallyr and you have earned 20 biomass.
Congratulations! You have met the requirements to advance to your next major evolution. You must pray to Lucidus to advance.
He wondered what had happened to make Lucidus allow him to advance. He hadn’t accomplished anything notable yet, so he assumed Shale must have done something while she had been separated from him. He hadn’t had the chance to topple Koral yet, so he doubted that she was rewarding him before the task was done. She had done that once before, but told him, in no uncertain terms, that he shouldn’t get used to it.
He shook off the thoughts with a shrug. He still had one thing he wanted to do while he was in the building. He had learned the name and location of the Imperial Ambassador that the high lord of the city was hosting. The now-deceased Vallyr woman had been all too forthcoming when she thought she was talking to Nocturnus himself. As Slate quietly exited the room and closed the door behind him, he wondered if Nocturnus got pissed when Slate pretended to be him. It felt like something that would annoy a god. Lucidus would consider it a personal insult. Unfortunately, he didn’t know the motivations of the immortals. It made them difficult to predict, which was a fact that annoyed Slate to no end.
His talons clicked on the stone floor as he made his way deeper into the building. There were no sentries on this floor that Slate had discovered. It was a security flaw that he would never have allowed in his palace. It was pure Vallyr arrogance that left this floor undefended. It wasn’t as if a common Collective soldier would be able to stop him, but they could at least raise the alarm and make his life more difficult while he retreated. He supposed that he shouldn’t wish that his enemies were more prepared than they were. It was fortunate that the bodies of the high lords wouldn’t be found until the morning. That would give him the chance to set his other plans in motion. First, he needed to see about the Imperial Ambassador and figure out what the Empire planned for the city of Koral. From his conversation with the high lords, he knew that the. Ambassador, a ban by the name of Xu Wei. He had been sent to the city to convert the Vallyr through diplomacy rather than war. The ships in the harbor were meant to be the Empire’s way of lending credence to the Ambassador’s efforts.
He arrived at the door to the man’s chambers. He tried the handle experimentally and found it unlocked, so he turned the handle silently and made his way into the room. Inside, there was a sitting room with two closed doors that led from the small room. Bizarre candlelight was shining in the room. It wasn’t the normal fire that he was used to. The flames were black but still provided some form of illumination. The light didn’t have any discernible source and, instead, just seemed to be present from every angle independent of where the actual candles were placed. His eyes alighted on the man that sat in a chair directly ac
ross from him. He was fully dressed in Imperial regalia that seemed similar in design to the Ambassador back in his home city. The man was wearing a loose black tunic that was open in the center to reveal a chiseled chest. His loose, flowing trousers were tucked into black leather boots. Slate supposed, the clothing of both sexes were designed to be tasteful and revealing.
Slate closed the door and took a seat in the chair opposite the man. His eyes were the same orange and yellow color as Daishi’s. He noticed that the Ignati shared some racial traits. The copper-colored hair that Slate had thought was unique to Daishi, adorned this man as well. However, there were streaks of white and gray that spoke to years of experience. He seemed amused as Slate didn’t seem the least bit phased by the fact that the Ambassador had evidently been waiting for Slate to arrive. In between the two men, on a small coffee table, sat a small pot of steaming liquid. Slate’s sensitive nose made him think it was his favorite drink in Somnium, kaj. Slate hadn’t had a good cup of kaj since he left Bastion, and he wondered if the presence of the drink was coincidence or if the Empire knew more about him than he realized. Reaching forward, Slate poured himself a cup and cradled the scalding cup in his hands. His scales were more than enough to disperse the heat. Slate raised the cup in thanks to the man before taking a sip and making a pleased face at the taste.
The Ambassador spoke first, “I’m surprised that you drank without prompting, Scion. I figured that you would be concerned it was poison.”
Slate merely smiled. “Not so, Ambassador Xu. You wouldn’t have made such an effort to talk with me if you merely planned to poison me.”
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