Chapter Thirty

But, a hand wrenched him back to reality.

“Stay away from those!” Sabrina hissed. “Even in death, the Doombringer’s taint can infect minds.”

“What happened?” Red whispered, shaking his head. “What is that?”

The soft padding of boots against carpet reached their ears. Red wanted to groan at being interrupted, but Sabrina’s turbulent Essence made it very clear that he was to behave.

“Historical heirlooms. The tales are rare, lost to time and destruction.” The identity of the softened footsteps was none other than the Baron himself. He was a fit man standing as tall as Red that took care of his appearance - a well-groomed stash, clean hair pulled into a tight bun with an outfit exuding professional cordiality. Baron Barvon stood next to Red, admiring the paintings. “My forefathers bargained for these, coercing the denizens of The Shattering into trading the pieces. They called them irrelevant trash, relics of history, but the Essence oozes from these priceless pieces.”

“That it does,” Red agreed, staring at the shattered sword. “What does it all mean?”

Baron Barvon stepped to the other side of Red and pointed out details the spirit missed when he first glanced over it. “Those fallen in the background are gods, slain by the Doombringer. The Runic Paragon is sacrificing himself and the final vestiges of the Realm to consume the Doombringer, using the Incarnate of Sin’s own energy to fuel a complete rebirth of an entire Realm. Setting up this trap, supposedly, took an entire year.”

The Baron waved his hand toward the second picture, “And there, you see that the Doombringer is slain. Once a loyal servant of the gods, the prophesied child cut his ties with fate and put his lot in with evil. He became everything he fought against.”

“Did he have a name?” Sabrina asked from behind them. It looked like she’d taken interest once the Baron had.

“Lost to time, unfortunately. I’m sure if we knew it, it would be considered as taboo as necromancy.” The Baron stepped to the third painting. “‘Rebirth.’ All of the gods and all of the magic had been cannibalized to restore the damage done by Kuul’Than. The Runic Paragon was a prodigy, a genius amongst geniuses, and his loss was great. Time passed, and the world devolved. It was overrun by the lack of gods, shattered by the invasive Eldritch, and ultimately consumed.”

“You pity those that threw our world into chaos?” Sabrina crossed her arms, her gaze firm. “They’re monsters -”

The Baron cleared his throat, interrupting her. He waved toward Koronor and Felicity who’d remained quiet thus far. “I’m sure your undead friends wouldn’t appreciate such sentiment.”

The two undead in question simultaneously tilted their heads.

“Oh, I’ve worked with your kind before. The miasmic presence may be faint, but it’s still noticeable.” Baron Barvon smiled kindly. “I’ve heard you bring news. I apologize for the delay. The whole line is up in arms about the supply chains, so I was doing my best to mediate a bit.”

“Did the news find you well?” Koronor stepped forward with a hand out, and the Baron gripped the undead’s forearm.

“It has. That’s a big reason why things dragged so long. We were allocating resources and dividing responsibilities. There’s much to do and so little time,” the Baron said, slightly shrugging. “I wouldn’t wish to bore my honored guests with work talk. I’ve had Edgar and Arianna put on tea and rotroot,” he said, nodding toward the undead, “so we should make better acquaintance in proper lodging.”

The Baron led them away toward a comfortable study where he sat behind a desk. The study was massive, a labyrinth of books and thick twine-bound tomes.

Sabrina took lead, acting as the representative for the trifecta, and sat across from the Baron. Felicity and Koronor stood behind her while Red looked at more of the art. Quite a few of them had warriors depicted wielding all types of different weapons.

As he perused the carved depictions, each a unique masterpiece in its own right, the others talked. He felt little interest in listening, knowing that he really wouldn’t have much impact on the scheme of things nor did he care to have one.

His mind fixated on Kuul’Than.

From what the Baron said, the blade was like him. It was a weapon spirit, or something similar, that had warped its user until they didn’t even recognize themself. Unlike the Eldritch, the Doombringer didn’t lose control. His form was unadulterated, majestically portrayed. It was the perfect portrayal of absolute might, and the second painting offended Red.

Kuul’Than, he thought to himself, relishing the name of the fallen spirit. How did you do it?

The Baron said the Doombringer slew gods and had required not only the Runic Paragon’s sacrifice but the entire Realm to stop.

But, something nagged at him. For as strong as Kuul’Than was, he found his end at the hand of a mage. The mage carried no weapon, only using the massive array to fell the Doombringer.

His most recent battle came to mind when he ruminated on the paintings. Until he faltered, he’d been as the Doombringer had. The powerful warrior and his weapon had been intrinsically bonded on a spiritual level. Red didn’t know how he knew, but it felt similar to what was happening with Melony.

Wrath-flame wafted off his skin in waves as he thought of the dead girl, eliciting a polite cough from behind him. Red turned to see the Baron staring back at him, “Please don’t burn down my study.”

For as much as he tried, Red couldn’t stop the leaking power from sloughing off him. Sabrina glared at him as they all waited expectantly. He tried to clench down on the outpour of flame, but it did nothing. Everything he did amounted to nothing.

Unhappily, Red allowed his form to fade, returning to the plain sheath on Sabrina’s back. Fear was something he wasn’t familiar with. He didn’t value existence for the sake of existing. The true value of existing was making the best of the time he existed, doing what he wanted to do.

If someone as strong as Kuul’Than could be shattered and broken when it was, presumably, at the peak of all power, then what? What should Red’s goal be?

Fighting, power, blood. All things he craved and enjoyed, but for the sake of what purpose?

A purpose was what motivated things to do what they did. Monsters and humans alike fought to survive against other monsters and sentient races that would endanger them, growing in number and power so that they can survive in the world.

It amused Red to compare the humans to the monsters. He could understand their want, the desire to reclaim their world, but if they stopped to consider the monsters that came through -

Based on Sabrina’s reaction earlier, they’d probably have a conniption and threaten to turn him to scrap metal for the umpteenth time. It didn’t matter to him either way.

The truth often hurt, but it would do no good to ignore it. As someone that would’ve never existed without The Shattering, he didn’t tarry over the events. He would fight with them once he figured out what was going on with himself, but it was for his own sake, not theirs.

Melony’s flushed face intruded on his thoughts, the lack of her excitable energy wrenching his focus away. Her spirit was infectious, and he had a sinking suspicion that she would still be alive if it weren’t for him.

“The truth sucks, but there’s no undoing what happened.” He stared up at the cosmic orbs of his trifecta, hanging in the sky idly awaiting further Essence. “Maybe if I’d been stronger…”

He was convinced that she’d be alive now if it weren’t for their coupling or if he’d had more power and control over himself. A familiar sense of loss overcame him. It was similar to how he first felt when Lord Vaughn fell to his injuries, leaving him alone to his own devices.

At that time, he hadn’t been able to comprehend that feeling, but now?

It was like a rock sinking into his gut, forcing his mind away from more productive lines of thought. As much as he hated to admit it, he missed the girl. He felt bad.

And for once, it was more than just a loss of an asset. Their binding had changed him, made him desire something more. They had merged their consciousnesses, their power merging into something powerful.

For a brief moment, they had rivaled the Gold aura mage despite the both of them being mid-late Silver.

“That mage…”

Something was off about the way that it fought, the way that it held itself. Its ability to manipulate the earthen domain unlike anything he’d seen from Mira or Yugmuswa, though the both of them seemed as though they focused less on Arcana.

He couldn’t say for sure, but if Red had to hazard a guess, the mage’s Arcana had reached Platinum. The aura was Gold without any Platinum speckled within, so that meant that one of the others had to be Silver or Bronze.

From the way the mage carried itself, barely flinching when attacked, Red would place his bets on Durability being Gold. However, it was hard to tell the capabilities of the humans.

The mage was a part of Alania’s forces, and she had access to the leyline. Red didn’t know what type of magic, enchanting, or whatever else may be out there her forces might have access to. The mage could very well have Gold Power with tons of defensive enchantments on his robes.

“Not knowing sucks,” he grumbled.

Another drop of wrath-flame slipped down the side of the pyre, sizzling as it consumed more of the lifeblood below. This reaction claimed Red’s mind, spiraling thoughts claiming any chance of productivity.

“Your weapon spirit seems to be a feisty one,” Baron Barvon noted.

Pitch-black flames roiled across Red’s blade and bloody wisps wafted from his tip, filling the room full of the spirit’s potent bloodlust.

Sabrina tilted her head, feeling the aura. It oozed through the room, but it didn’t focus on any one thing. It sought out something, searching and prodding. When she parsed through the thickness, her eyes widened in surprise.

“It -” She cleared her throat. “A Gold aura Arcanist, duality of Illusion and Earth, killed the spirit’s wielder. It’s…”

“I understand.” Baron Barvon stood from his chair and opened a cabinet, pulling out two diamond chalices. “A drink for those lost for a glorious cause then?”

“I shouldn’t,” Sabrina declined.

The Baron poured two glasses despite her refusal, holding one up to her. “I insist.”

She looked between the drink and the Baron, pursing her lips. They would need the message to be spread along the line, and the only way to do that was with the help of the Baron. Manually delivering the report to every House would take days, and they didn’t have that time to waste.

The escaped mage would return to Alania and inform her of the events. They needed to act as fast as they could before she could entrench herself too deeply, so giving up several days was -

She picked up the glass, clinking the rip against the Baron’s, and then drained the clear liquid in one gulp. After setting down the glass, she tilted her head.

“I’d like to discuss -”

“In due time, Lady Lothik. Your weapon spirit. It intrigues me. It’s interest in the paintings was unmatched by anyone I’ve ever met, myself included, and I love all the treasures passed down to me by those that came before me.”

“Red is still young -”

Baron Barvon held up a hand to halt Koronor. “Can I see it?”

Sabrina clenched her teeth. She didn’t feel comfortable handing the spirit over in its current condition. Melony had acted strangely before her death. The way she’d done so made Sabrina suspicious toward what had truly happened within the Devil’s Lair, but the Baron’s eyes were hard and commanding.

Hesitantly, she took the spirit and held the hilt out for the Baron.

“Wow.” The Baron set the blade on his desk, returned the diamond chalices to the cabinet, and then grabbed the blade again. “Let’s go.”

“What?” Sabrina rose and attempted to follow the Baron, but her legs gave out from under her.

Koronor and Felicity blocked the exit, but the Baron raised a brow at them. “You’d stop me in my own estate?”

“The weapon spirit is not yours,” Koronor stated.