Chapter Thirty-One

“According to your active treatise with Vanguard, any action against a member of the city or its outlying territories is an act of war. I do believe you’ll be moving out of my way,” Baron Barvon stated with a smile.

The two undead didn’t budge for several moments, but what he said was true. Laying a hand on him was the same as declaring war on Vanguard, and neither one of them could make that decision for their people.

They stepped out of the way, and the Baron smiled. “Why, thank you much.”

Retracing their steps, the Baron returned to the main corridor while holding Red delicately. As he stood before the paintings, he watched on in awe, holding Red ever closer to the precious heirlooms.

The magic within those ancient paintings beckoned to something within the weapon spirit. Wisps of black shadow, tendrils of ephemeral blue-green, and flame, hotter than anything he’d ever experienced, his skin weltering in seconds from his proximity - reached for the spirit.

The Baron moved the blade away from the paintings out of curiosity, his back slating with sweat as an overwhelming aura slammed into his chest. Its rage was a calm, subtle thing, promising death should he attempt to fully remove the presence of the weapon spirit.

“I may have made a miscalculation,” he muttered to himself.

The tendrils, unyielding in their goal, roiled across the flat of the blade, sinking through the physical to reach into the spirit’s inner palace. Once they delved past the physical layer, the weapon spirit’s own consciousness immediately mounted a defense to try to stop the invasive presence, but it was for naught.

Baron Barvon had no way of sensing the exact details of what took place, but the weapon spirit calmed in only a few seconds. When the magical tendrils reappeared, they were accompanied by a swirling mass of red and black.

The color of the sword drained away, leaving a simple standard issue longsword in its place. Then, both presences were gone.

“Okay, I definitely miscalculated.” The Baron stared at the plain sword, looking up at the painting. His eyes widened as he looked on closer. “What the?”

Within, the spirit looked around in a daze.

Prior to diving into the painting, Red’s consciousness had been lost to rage and pain, but something had drawn him back. Three swirls of power beckoned to him, stubbornly refusing to be ignored. At first, he’d struggled against it, refusing its curious poking and prodding, but the longer it lingered, the more he realized it wasn’t trying to do him harm.

The wrath-flame burning away at his mind and inner palace faded, quickly absorbed by the presence. Calm replaced the rage that had taken his ability to think clearly.

Now, when he had looked at the tendrils reaching out for him, he felt comfort and familiarity. Without wasting more time, he created an anchor for them to latch onto, and they dragged him from the familiarity of his blade and into the painting.

Immediately, he found himself in his human form. His body was a strange translucence of gold, red, and black. When he moved, an afterimage followed him several moments later, superimposing over his body.

“I’m glad you made it,” a primal voice said quietly. Despite the softness, it reverberated around the slowly moving scene.

“I’m not quite sure if I feel the same. Why have you brought me here?” Red was suspicious of the presence, though, he could guess who it belonged to.

The tendrils had returned to the mighty blade and continued to waft from it as it attempted to cut down the Runic Paragon.

“Be at peace, spirit. I’m but a fragment of what I once was.”

Red started when an identical form appeared in front of him, instantly. The same blue-green, black, and white roiled around wildly within its form.

“I suppose you’re Kuul’Than,” Red guessed.

“You’re correct.”

“What happened here, Kuul’Than?” Red asked, his curiosity begging to be sated.

The form waved its hand around to the ever-repeating shift of the world like a looped frame stuck on repeat. “I failed, and this is what happened because of it.”

“How did you fail?” Red pressed.

Kuul’Than walked over to the Doombringer and stared at it. “An unexpected bond, something so simple, foiled everything. Look closely, here. What do you see?”

Not wishing to offend his host, he moved closer to the Doombringer. A strange armor clang to its skin and a full-face helmet covered any and all discernible features. The armor was thin, like a second layer of skin, and a red glow - like a brightly shining ruby - barely slipped through the seams.

The Doombringer felt like Kuul’Than.

But, it wasn’t.

“What is this?” Red wondered.

“It’s my greatest failure.” Kuul’Than held up his hand and clenched it into a fist. The armor sloughed off the Doombringer like liquid and revealed a man - distinctly human in origin. “This is Slader. When I first met him, he’d already lost to his crippling fear that stemmed from attachment. After many years, I forget him into a vessel, removing all traces of his previous life and warping his mind into a numbed thing. Dull and incoherent, lost to the desire for destruction.”

Kuul’Than paused. What Kuul’Than said intrigued Red. If Baron Barvon were to be believed, then these events unfolded on the other side of The Shattering. Red never considered that humans might have existed on the other side, but this made that absolutely clear in his mind that they did, in fact.

“Due to my efforts, Slader consumed the soul of his twin brother. This is my greatest oversight, as when the time came to wrench control for myself, the soul stirred. It redoubled Slader’s will to resist me and my efforts, resulting in this failure. We became One.”

Kuul’Than’s disappointment and frustration were palpable. The power that wafted off him grew far more intense and forced Red to take several steps back.

“By then, things were too late for Slader and that realm. I’d wished to assert my will over it, rebuild it anew as a paradise for my kin. It was not to be, I suppose.” Kuul’Than turned to Red. “That is past, but you still exist. It shames me to know that the last remnants of my soul have been forged into artwork.”

Red nodded in agreement, “That definitely sounds like a big slap in the face.”

“You’re degrading,” Kuul’Than stated. His words confirmed Red’s biggest fear. “You’ve broken yourself.”

Clenching his teeth tightly, Red looked away. Vitriol bled through his words as he spit back, “I. Know.”

“Calm, child, for there is an answer to your struggles.”

Red crossed his arms. “Don’t get my hopes up for nothing.”

“Calm your mind,” Kuul’Than ordered. “Summon your realm.”

Red could infer that Kuul’Than meant his inner palace, but he had no idea how to do such a thing. The other spirit must have seen his confusion, giving him a scathing look before reaching out to grab Red’s shoulder.

More energy than Red ever experienced coursed through him, delving deep into his being, until it gripped his inner palace. After seeing Kuul’Than instantly from his body, Red thought that this process would be similar.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Kuul’Than’s swirling hand gripped Red in place as he pulled. Pain like nothing he’d ever experienced clouded his mind, but it was far from the rage-induced fogginess.

No, this was far, far worse.

Inside, his soul clung onto a metaphysical attachment to the inner palace that Kuul’Than mercilessly scythed through. “Beings of now are quite strange. You’re far simpler in design than anything I’ve ever seen, yet you’re also far more complex.”

Red blocked out the other spirit’s idle musings as its will caused him unimaginable pain and suffering.

But, it did finally come to an end, and his inner palace superimposed itself over the landscape. The strange energies of the painting began to bleed into his world, expanding it several times greater than what it once was.

Not only that, the same familiar chains exploded from the walls that once held Creep and wrapped around the armorless Doombringer. With some struggle, it ripped the figure away from the loop and slammed it against the wall.

Etchings branded into the war, the colors taking on Kuul’Than’s own. Another chain lashed out toward the Runic Paragon, but it simply evaporated once it got within a certain range. Red was slightly disappointed to see that, but he imagined that he only got Slader due to his attachment to Kuul’Than.

Panting and struggling to stay standing, Red raised a questioning brow.

“I’m impressed by your resilience.” Kuul’Than paused, watching as the weapon spirit shakily righted himself. The questioning brow didn’t go unnoticed either, though Kuul'Than's wicked grin did nothing to assuage Red’s hesitation. “Don’t worry about that. It’ll make itself known in time.”

He didn’t like that the other spirit refused to answer him. Doubly so, since it would affect him and his inner palace. Even if he made his displeasure clear, Red really doubted that the other spirit would take him seriously or listen to his complaints.

Frankly, it didn’t have to.

Even as a fragment, a thing of near-non-existence, it was still more powerful than he. It was concerning. Nothing stopped the other spirit from trying to invade his mind or try any other kind of mind-warping tactic.

Kuul’Than had openly admitted to doing so before and even lamented the failure to corrupt and wrench control of Slader’s body.

He’s like Yugmuswa! Red groaned internally. If he could leave now, he would, but he wasn’t the one that brought him here. After experiencing the soul manipulation of the spirit, he was very wary.

Red found himself wishing to leave the longer he stayed around Kuul’Than. The other spirit was casual in his cruelty, thinking of all other lives beneath his.

“There was a time when I was heralded as the Incarnate of Sin. I slew gods by the dozen until they bound me within that accursed Star-Forged blade.”

“You lived a life prior to being a spirit?” This piqued Red’s interest. He gave the sword in Slader’s grip a side-eyed glance. Star-Forged?

“I did,” the other sprit started, tilting its head, “and I’m sure you have, too.”

“What?” Red sputtered out.

“Yes, I found it to be strange as well, but from what I saw on your soul, you’re carrying more accumulated Karma than you have any right to. You’re quite the curious one, that’s for sure.”

Red had gotten used to the subtle tones within Kuul’Than’s primal voice, but he couldn’t stop himself from shivering. It shouldn’t be physiologically possible for such a thing to occur, but sure enough, his spine tingled, and shivers roiled down his back. A cold sweat broke out.

Within the other spirit’s words, Red felt hunger.

A hunger for him.

If he hadn’t been concerned before, he was now.

Red had a curious thought, pondering if this is what a Fiend felt like when it stood before Yugmuswa.

This is bad. Very, very bad.

Kuul’Than turned to him, his form buzzing erratically. “So, should we start?”