Chapter 20 - I Will Not Fail

Author's Notes: Hey guys, I know it has been a while. I feel bad about the people who generously commended the story and enjoyed it. In appreciation of that, I will crank out a minimum of 2 more chapters by this weekend, possibly more. Look forward to it!

The last fading rumbles in the air left behind a deafening silence, as though to belie the incredible scene I’d just witnessed. The gigantic stone statue before me stood remote and impassive, not leaving a single trace of its previous movements, which just moments ago had shocked me to the core.

Damn it, I had just watched another person I was protecting be snatched from me, while gazing helplessly, powerlessly. It was almost maddening, and I could feel the edges of my vision contracting into a red haze, my breathing coming in harsh, ragged gasps.

Sophia..

Not again. Not this again. I had sworn I would not let this happen again.

Back in my past life, when I watched them take her away, that moment when my whole world had collapsed and the deep, yawning abyss had at long last fulfilled its long promise of abject despair, I had spit out a most solemn vow amidst the black, bitter blood that had surged up my throat.

Never again. Never again would I let them take from me again. No, from that moment on, I would reverse the tables. I would take. I would take it all back, and if nothing was left, then I would gorge myself on the ashes. I would burn the whole world down, myself included. For this one purpose, no matter the odds, the morality, the justification - I would find power. I would scour the ends of the earth and sell my soul to the heart of evil itself, in exchange for uncontested, uncompromising power.

I had once yearned for the power to protect. Foolish and fatally naive, of course I was destined to fail.

Now all I required was the power to dominate. The power to avenge. To utterly destroy.

And now, I had failed once again.

Clenching my fists until my knuckles were creaking and threatening to burst apart, I opened my mouth and drew a deep, shuddering breath, about to roar my defiance to the merciless fate which had condemned me to failing time and time again - the only puny gesture of resistance a second-rate loser like I could offer.

That was me, a loser. A deluded fool. Where was my power now? Where was my resolve? What had I achieved?

Pathetic..

Just at that moment, a shrill howl pierced the mist around me, its sound supercharged with the purity that could only be endowed by a singular focus of purpose: rage.

Startled out of my reverie, I glanced to the side and squinted at Reaver. His back was bent in a magnificent arc, his fur standing on end. His lips were parted as he howled his defiance to the darkness beyond, revealing the dark glint of fangs which promised swift ruination to any who dared stand against him.

Stupid mutt, it had a point. Rather than bitch about how pathetic I was, I should instead grind my teeth and spit out some more bitter blood. So the gods would toy with my fate, all well and good. They were like a capricious child whose fingers I would eventually crush in my grip. Hell, I’d rip their damn hands off and stuff them down their throats.

In order to do that, I had no choice but to swallow the vile poison bubbling up my throat, and persevere. After all, who really gave a damn about me? My whole life lay there, like a tragic drama playing out before my eyes, and was there even one iota of cosmic power out there who cared one bit? No, of course not. I was alone. Always alone. Ultimately, it was up to me to pick up the broken pieces, swallow the bile surging up my throat, and persevere. Because, what other option was there? Either that, or give up.

I might not always win, but I would never give up. Ever.

So, you want to continue tearing strips off my soul bit by bit instead of squashing me down like a bug under your mighty cosmic heel? Sure, it might be more fun for you, but what doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger. I will make you regret this. I will make you rue the day you left me alive.

Swiftly regulating my breathing, I willed my heart back to a steady thrum, one that would no longer threaten to burst the walls of my chest in its impotent rage.

“Shia,” I grated out, my voice still trembling slightly with barely contained rage threatening to explode as though from a dam just about to crack wide open. “The enemy?”

“M.. mommy, this strange fog is obstructing my view. Amplifying their footsteps and isolating echoes, 13 to 16 heavily armed men, ETA 83 seconds.”

Turning my head around, I squinted towards the gloom but couldn’t even make out anything because of the fog. Damn, no time to even make a trap. Besides, they were certain to have heard this damn mutt’s howling, and be on guard as a result.

Briefly, the thought of using Reaver as bait flashed in my head, but strangely I discarded that idea almost immediately. Not because of any stupid sentimentality, I told myself. Of course not. After all, the tunnel behind me seemed to be the only way out other than that damn statue's mouth which didn’t look like it would be opening anytime soon. No way to circle around them even if they were focused on Reaver. No time to set up any traps either.

Glancing at the still howling Kha’zik pup, I repeated to myself that it was simply not practical to use the Kha’zik as a diversionary tactic. No, it would be more advantageous to somehow shut the damn thing up and find a miraculous way to vanish into thin air with that 250 pound beast in tow.

Nothing if not practical, that was me.

Grumbling bitterly at my available choices, or lack thereof, I muttered, “Shia, show me a panoramic view of the cliff face, especially the area immediately above and below us.”

I unslung my pack and started to swiftly uncoil a length of rope from my pack, after which I securely fastened one end to one of the crossbow bolts I had looted off our most recent would-be killers.

“Shia, overlay with fault lines, cracks..” I stopped as Shia quickly complied, immediately showing me a series of crisscrossing lines that snaked their way up and around the whole rockface.

Examining the image Shia had pulled up, I narrowed my eyes. “

I had no way of activating the damn portal. Dungeon my ass. Shaking my head and silently vowing to defenestrate the bastard who had designed this particular dungeon - whoever had heard of a dungeon in a game that wouldn’t open for its players - I stretched out my hand and gripped the back of Reaver’s neck firmly in my grasp, then twisted his head towards me to make sure I had its full attention.

Glancing at those huge fangs and the insane fire lit within that single icy cold blue eye staring back at me, as well as the slowly widening maw that revealed an impressive array of wickedly sharp teeth, I couldn’t help but ponder that there were certainly less stupid ways to commit suicide. Of course, none of this showed in my expression. Instead, I mirrored that same insane grin, one that held not one hint of humor and 100% vicious pain, and flicked my head towards the tunnel behind us.

“Sol is not dead. Yet. So, are we done whining or are we gonna do something about it?”

Reaver growled deep in his throat, and the wintry chill in his single blue eye grew even colder, while a faint reddish glimmer could be faintly distinguished through the eyepatch that covered his other eye.

“Good. Then lets get on with it.”

Watching the feral gleam in Reaver's eyes and the way his fur stood on end as he turned around to face the tunnel, I shook my head ruefully. Damn mutt reminded me of my younger days, back when I didn't give a damn about odds or survival, not so long as I could die with some blood between my teeth.

Ah, happier days.

"Not the time for suicidal last charges yet. We have a kid in distress to rescue, remember? Time enough for glorious last stands later."

Reaver sniffed and looked down his snout at me. Sure, pretend you’re too high and mighty to be thinking of suicidal charges now, will you? I could read this mutt like an open book. Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that I could read it like an open book.

Picking up my crossbow, I turned around and steadying my breath, I squeezed on the trigger and jolted back as I felt the kick.

“Not my best shot, but I’ll take it.”

Reaver said nothing, but his look spoke volumes.

Okay, so this was definitely not one of my brightest strategies.

I had been able to drive a crossbow bolt into a small crack running up the wall about 6 feet to the right of the opening where we stood. Fortunately, this crack ran diagonally towards the overhang above us, and I had been aiming for a spot just about 8 feet above my head - essentially out of immediate reach, but not too a challenging a shot with a crossbow. That would barely clear the tunnel opening and reach over the top of the arch, allowing me to climb over it. With my luck, I hadn’t dared aim any higher than that. Since the crack was at least three inches wide, from a distance of 8 feet it had been very hard to miss, even with my dismal aim. After all, crossbows are different from bows. Essentially, it was just point and shoot. That was fortunate, since it wasn’t as though I could just drive a bolt into solid rock. Good luck with that.

The bolt gave off a few clangs as it shot into the fissure, but fortunately, it caught on something. I pulled on it as hard as I could, but seemed to steady enough. Hopefully it would hold my weight long enough to allow me to climb up. The crack was far enough from the opening that it was out of immediate reach, and since the crossbow bolt was driven deep inside the crack, so long as I cut off the rope after I reached the overhang above our heads, I was confident they wouldn’t find us. Without daring to lose any more time, I decided to bite the bullet. Of course, I would have to be the one doing all the heavy lifting. Damn mutt.

“Being a fancypants Kha’zik whatever, what’s the use if you can’t even climb up a damn rope?” I grumbled under my breath.

Casting a final baleful glance towards Reaver, who had sat watching my efforts with quiet intensity, I slowly eased my body over the left edge of the cliff and stepped into empty air while hanging on to the rope I’d attached to the crossbow bolt. Though it wiggled dangerously a couple times, it held as I pulled myself up slowly and steadily. and over the arch above as Reaver sat watching me with an unblinking stare.

As Shia had shown me, the overhang was barely a couple feet deep, but it was wide and round enough to allow me to continue with my plan. The first thing I did, of course, was to cut off the rope I’d used to climb, effectively concealing what little I couldn’t reach deep inside the crack.

“You better not squirm, you damn mutt,” I muttered, as I undid a second length of rope from around my waist, the other end of which was securely fastened around Reaver. Hey, he may not be the most ideal spotter, but in this kind of situation, any insurance was better than none. In a worst case scenario, I would happily pull the mutt into the abyss after me.

Misery does love company.

In any case, the rope would serve another function. After unfastening the rope from around my waist, I hurriedly unslung my bag and tied it to the rope. This bag contained most of our remaining supplies as well as the few weapons and other loot I’d collected from the dead men so far. While on the run, I had already discarded most unessential items that could weigh us down, but a few pieces had been remarkable enough to keep. Good thing too, since I would need all the leverage I could get right now. Hell, I even stuffed a couple large rocks I found at a glance into the bag. After stretching the rope over the length of the overhang, I slowly lowered the bag over the other end from where Reaver sat. Eventually, the rope went taut and Reaver’s body slowly began to rise while the bag dipped lower. As for me, I was hauling for all I was worth.

Cursing myself for not having put a few more points into strength, I tried to leverage the rope as best as I could with the load on the other side. However, my bag weighed at most 80 pounds, even with all the newly acquired items added in. On the other end of the rope, I had to lift around 250 pounds of useless mutt, and I was a scholar, not a damn mule, contrary to what my main trait said.

Still, I braced my feet and with more than a few grunts of agony and snarled curses, I was able to finally pull an oddly calm looking Reaver up to the ledge. Hell, he even looked like he might be enjoying himself, if the situation hadn’t been so grave. As soon as he was within reach of the overhang, his claws found purchase and he scrabbled to nimbly get himself up. As soon as he did so, I started hauling my bag up, and Reaver smartly bit on the rope and assisted me without a sound. That was good, because otherwise I don’t think I could have managed. My arms were killing me, and I could barely feel my hands, which had a hint of blood in them. After we recovered the bag with all our essential supplies, I knelt there, breathing heavily without daring to make a sound.

The sounds of footsteps echoing from the tunnel had died down after Reaver’s howls, which was only reasonable. They would exercise more caution now that their prey was finally within reach, right?

Of course, I was wrong yet again. I heard footsteps rushing closer, without any concern whatsoever for noise or stealth. As a matter of fact, I heard a few voices screaming like madmen, obviously charging forward with no regard to their personal safety. What was wrong with these people?

Even with my cautious approach, I had barely avoided falling off the edge because of all the mists within the tunnel. Surely, with this mad rush at least a few were bound to fall to their screaming deaths below?

Alas, I was to be disappointed. Not only did the footsteps stop exactly at the right moment, our pursuers did not so much as glance at the endless abyss at their feet. True, they were holding torches aloft, but the mists were so thick within the tunnel, the light could have done little more than hamper their vision even further. They must have been familiar with this place. That’s the only explanation I could come up with. This was further confirmed as I didn’t see anyone so much as bat an eyelid at the gigantic statue standing before us.

I had already guessed as much. The speed at which they had run down our trail in spite of the many winding twists and turns of the passageways had already convinced me that they must be heading for the same place we had been seeking, the heart of the Arakian Monastery. After all, I had the benefit of Shia, who could infallibly point out the direction we were heading in, as well as being able to track our progress down to the millimeter with her infallible mapping skill, thus preventing us from becoming lost or wandering needlessly. Our enemy had consistently gained on us, in spite of lacking such means. That could only mean they knew where they were headed.

One of the men, wearing red leather armor with vicious metal spikes protruding from it and the same strange symbol I’d seen on the swords I had looted embossed on the armor's chest, stood at the very edge of the precipice, hotly glaring at the giant statue. The rest of the men wore similar dark green mercenary outfits to the ones I had just killed. Many seemed wounded, and most looked dirty and haggard, with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes. So, the chase hadn’t been easy on them either.

After a moment, during which the rest of the men stood uneasily behind him, the man in red armor turned around and growled in a deep voice, “Your incompetence has allowed our prey to profane the Holy Halls of the Eternal. We must stop them before they further desecrate its secrets. What are you waiting for? Activate the portal.”

Upon hearing this, my pulse quickened and I had to concentrate to regulate my breathing, otherwise I was afraid I might give my position away. While outwardly I did not so much as twitch a single muscle, inside I was quietly exulting. With Sol vanished inside that Statue, and dozens of foes obviously intent on my death, I had been left with no smart options. Thus, I had no choice but to take an admittedly very stupid option.

Thus my current position, hanging suspended in the air barely 25 feet above the heads of the, oh, 20 or so people fanatically seeking to kill me. The thin overhand where we were hiding only provided enough cover to hide because of all the fog around us. One decent gust to blow our cover and anyone craning their heads up would be able to discern our outline above them. Still, I held on to the rope and waited.

“Yes, sir!” immediately responded one of the men, and retrieved something from inside a chest he took out from a pack he carried by his side. It was a vial of red liquid. Was that.. blood? Wait, Sol’s blood? Had that been the catalyst needed to activate the portal? What could be the link?

The man mumbled some words in a language I could not recognize, then took out a ring almost identical to the one Sol had used to being the statue to life. As he continued chanting, the shadows around him seemed to shift oddly, as though they were pulsing rhythmically. Not only that, but strangely the tattoos in my hand seemed to be writhing across my skin as he continued chanting.

“What is going on,” I whispered absently.

“Mommy, I can feel a familiar tug of soul magic from the chant of that man. I will record it for future reference and study. According to my estimations, he is likely attempting to catalyze the power of his soul to power some sort of ritual, likely aiming to reopen the Statue”

I nodded as I continued watching. A few moments later, the man’s chanting reached a crescendo as he crushed the vial of blood in his hand and let it drip onto the ring he held on the other.

Nothing happened. Ha! I felt strangely gratified as I saw the look of bewilderment on the man’s face. This look turned into shocked disbelief as he spit out blood, suddenly staring down at the three inches of steel protruding from his chest.

The man in red armor ruthlessly twisted his sword, then easily pulled it out of the dying man’s back in one smooth, practiced motion. As the fatally wounded man collapsed, the same ring of lights I’d seen around Sol started to gather around him. Seemingly oblivious to this, the man simply knelt there, staring at the gaping wound on his chest.

“Wh.. why?” he cried out hoarsely, choking on his own blood.

“Your sacrifice shall be noted,” his killer answered coldly, then turned away with an air of indifference. “Men, prepare to enter the Halls of the Eternal.”

I decided I really didn’t like this little bastard, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. I could tell he was ruthless and driven, two qualities I had always valued highly in subordinates of mine in the past. As I stared at the top of his head through the sights of the loaded crossbow I held in my bloody, trembling hands, I decided I would not mind putting a bolt right through his skull and see how he’d take note of that. Must be that I simply despised those who were needlessly wasteful.

Yeah, that must be it.

As the light slowly faded from the wounded man’s eyes, a blue-black flame seemed to burst out of his chest. This flame was slowly but inexorably absorbed by the ring that was still lay clutched in his grip. When the last of the flame was gone, the ring burst into light and a streak of crimson flew from the hand of the dying man into the forehead of the face carved into the mountain in front of us. Instantly, that bridge of light and fog materialized itself once more, and began to draw in the body of the man who had summoned it towards its mouth, which stood open once more.

The man in the red armor seemed ready for this, however, and he moved his hand to snatch the ring held in the man’s hand while gesturing for the rest of his men to draw closer. Instantly, the glowing light suffused his whole body, and as he laid his other hand on the man behind him, it spread towards him and the rest of the men with him.

So, that’s how it was, was it? Couldn’t they have written this down as a game guide somewhere? Damn obscure game designers. Anyhow, this was the just reward for my patience. This was it, the perfect moment I had been waiting all along for. See, sometimes waiting can yield you nothing but a sore butt and a few wasted hours. At other times, however, the rewards can be rich indeed.

This just happened to be one such occasion.

As the group of men began to float up into the air and were being drawn towards the open mouth of the statue, I couldn’t help but grin fiercely as I carefully sighted down the crossbow, then let loose.

*THAAANGG!*

*CRACK!*

Granted, though I’d been one of the top marksmen back in the real world, in here my aim was just downright crappy. Trying to hit a crack 2 inches wide from 8 paces was about as well as I could hope to perform. However, hitting a target the size of a head from 20 paces or so was marginally easier, and something even I could manage.

Of course, I didn’t aim at the leader’s head, as much as I was tempted to. Instead, I deliberately loosed all the breath left in my lungs, steadied my pulse, then slowly squeezed the trigger and went for the jackpot.

The mercenary leader’s hand exploded in a shower of blood and bone fragments as the crossbow bolt literally blew that limb in a crimson mist.

“AAAAAHH!” came the animalistic cry of agony from the man as he instinctively clutched at the ruined stump where his arm ended now.

I shook my head ruefully. Buddy, you had way bigger problems than figuring out how to tie your bootlaces with only one hand now.

I must admit, the twitching corners of my mouth had begun tugging upwards this whole time while I’d been sighting down the crossbow. Some of that had to do with the fact that it was the closest I had come in this world to aiming a gun at another person’s face after leaving the real world. There was just something oddly nostalgic about the whole ordeal.

That said, the far more substantial reason why there was now a big goddamned evil grin plastered all over my face right now was that there was a definite intent behind my decision to deny myself the great pleasure of driving a couple feet of steel into the face of the bastard who had been running me ragged these past couple days.

Instead, I’d imploded the poor bastard’s hand. That meant no hand. Which meant no fingers. Which meant no ring. Which meant..

That same instant realization hit all the men down there, floating through a tunnel made of wind that lay suspended in the middle of the gaping chasm that yawned underneath their feet. The horror in their eyes as comprehension dawned on just what was about to happen as their bodies stopped moving forward, and instead began to plunge downwards - well, that was just icing on the cake.

Their horrified screams echoed in my ears for a surprisingly long time before they either hit the bottom of the abyss, or simply moved out of my hearing range. Either way, it warmed my soul like chicken soup in a cold, clammy winter morning.

Next to me, Reaver took one sidelong glance at me and shivered slightly.

Meh, what a pansy.

I was still basking in the afterglow of my perfect moment, when several dings rang out in my ear, and an unbelievable amount of experience came rolling in. Holy mackerel, it paid to be a mass murderer in this world! I think I might have gained a whole level.. maybe two!

Just then, I was taken out of my reverie by my faithful hound. Well, technically not mine quite yet but I digress.

Reaver tugged at my sleeve with his teeth once more, and I sighed softly before nodding to him and gathering myself to stand on my feet.

“Yes, you are right. Now we know how to get there. Come on, let’s see what fuss is all about in this pain in the ass dungeon.”

Very painfully and laboriously, I managed to get myself and Reaver back down. I searched the dead man’s body who had been used as the sacrifice to open the way, and grunted in relief when I found a couple more vials of blood inside the chest he had. He also had a slim book, which looked like a personal journal of some kind. I stored it away for later examination, then took one of the vials of blood into my hand.

“Shia, repeat the chant in my ear, slowly,” I whispered, while I fished the last of the mysterious rings I had in my possession and sprinkled some blood on it.

“But Mommy, that ritual requires the sacrifice of.. Oh. Right. Got it Mommy.”

I nodded as Shia seemed to catch on, and started to chant the words of the ritual as Shia recited them into my ear.

Soon enough, with dark shadows dancing on the walls around me, I reached the end of the ritual. Drawing a deep breath, I turned my eyes to look at Reaver, who rolled his eyes at me as though to tell scoff, "Get on with it, showoff."

Sure, I've been known to indulge in a bit of self-aggrandizing drama when the mood strikes it. So sue me.

"You try dealing with 20 stone cold murderers with a single crossbow bolt and a damn useless mutt for baggage next time, then tell me how you like it," I grumbled.

Reaver merely sniffed the air impatiently.

No sense for the dramatic at all. Ah well. Shrugging my shoulders, I turned around to face the gigantic statue once more, and extended my hand in its direction while clutching the bloody ring in it.

“Soul Blaze!” I cried out, and instantly the now familiar dark flames sprang into life, rapidly surging into the ring while a thunderous roar filled my ears. One of the glyph circles in my hand was spinning rapidly while also growing smaller and dimmer. By the time the tattoo was completely gone, the ring burst into light and a streak of crimson light sprang from it, flying into the Statue’s forehead.

Immediately, I could feel my body being lifted into the air and being slowly drawn towards the now open mouth of the statue, where a blinding light came into life.

I unceremoniously reached out behind me and grabbed Reaver’s tail into my hand. As expected, I did not need to physically pull him. Rather, it seemed immediate physical contact was enough to extend the effects of the ritual. The mutt, of course, glared at me indignantly, but I ignored it.

“Buckle down, you bag of fleas. No way I’m going to get stuck taking care of you.”

Reaver howled in protest or excitement as our bodies accelerated towards that blinding light, which was growing more and more intense as we drew closer.

“I will not fail again,” I whispered fervently, and strangely, Reaver seemed to understand.

“Never again.”

Then it was all dark.