“The ritual is more extensive than I had initially realized. I can not perform it on my own. I need to gather allies, others who are willing to follow. I will show them what I have discovered, they will hear the voice of my god.”

Chapter 72

The large, flying undead ruptured into a burst of blood and gore, spraying out across the wall.

Wil watched with crystal clear clarity as the black and foul drops arced through the air, striking the ground like a gentle rain. Thanks to Garman’s orders, some of the auxiliaries around him were huddled under their shields, but many were fighting and couldn’t find cover in time.

Wil and the mages around him quickly transformed their barriers into a thin, flat umbrella over the defenders, shielding most of them from the bloody rain. The magic formed a shimmering haze overhead, sizzling as the blood struck it.

Wil breathed a sigh of relief, they had sheltered the living from the infectious blood just in time. The fierce fighting continued as more ghouls climbed the walls and the blood from the lying undead continued to splash against the barrier above.

The weakness of this tactic became apparent a moment later when a ghoul, mouth still dripping bright red blood from its feasting on the fallen, charged into the group of mages. The howling undead focused its frenzied red eyes on the woman next to him, the mage whose name he hadn’t learned.

She had reformed her shield into an umbrella against the blood as well, leaving her defenseless against the ghoul. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the auxiliaries running to their defense, he would arrive in a few seconds if she could hold on.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl for Wil as he watched the ghoul scurry forward, intent on its next victim. He saw the mage look up briefly at the barrier above that she was maintaining, to the person running to help them, before turning her gaze back to the Ghoul.

Wil knew what was going through her head, the choice she was considering. Would she keep the barrier up and risk her life to shield the others fighting next to her, or protect herself from the attack?

Like him, she was putting almost everything she had into stretching the barrier overhead. She had barely anything left to defend herself with, she would need to drop the barrier to form another spell matrix.

He could see her timing it in her mind, judging the distance the ghoul was from her and the time it would take help to arrive.

Wil knew that she could hold the ghoul at bay for a moment, long enough for help to arrive. It was risky, but she could do it. She had the same training as him, and probably even more power. He knew what she was capable of, if she was willing to take the chance.

He recognized the moment she made her decision. He saw it in her eyes, the way they narrowed and turned hard.

Wil watched in growing horror as she dropped her hands that were channeling power into the barrier overhead and leapt out of the way of the Ghoul. That moment of selfishness, of self-preservation, nearly damned them all.

The Ghouls momentum carried it past her, and it turned its attention to the next in line, Wil. With a howl it slammed into him, knocking him backwards onto his back. He skidded towards the altar behind him, knocking into it heavily from the force.

Wil felt the barrier he had formed overhead snap back around him, instinctively protecting him from the impact.

The umbrella overhead had now lost two of the mages that were maintaining it, and large gaps appeared in the barrier. The black blood fell onto the living, coating them in the foulness before quickly seeping into their skin.

The ghoul followed him, snarling and clawing at his face. Its long nails raked against his shield, and the barrier glowed white in response. The air was filled with the smell of burning flesh as the shield charred and scorched the ghoul’s hands.

The shield was quickly draining all of Wil’s remaining mana to keep the undead at bay. Before the attack, his Core was half filled, now he was channeling the dregs, pulling whatever small amount he had left desperately into his shield.

With each strike, the ghoul’s claws would scrape the shield, and a noise would ring out, like nails on a chalkboard. The monster’s face was only inches from his own, and his vision was filled with evil red eyes that glowed with its madness.

He could see its rotting teeth and black tongue, so eager to sink into his flesh. It was so close that he saw bits of skin and tissue from its last victim still wedged between its elongated teeth.

Wil’s shield flickered, and he knew that it would fail in moments. Gathering whatever shred of Mana he had left in him, he dropped the shield and he used it to enhance his strength, giving him a brief opportunity to overpower the lower ranked undead.

He quickly pulled his knee back and drove it into the ghoul’s side, knocking it off balance. It collapsed onto its side, still thrashing violently at him.

He spun with the ghoul as it fell, using his weight to pin the frenzied undead against the stone. He felt the sharp nails dig into his leather armor, shredding it. Thankfully, the leather held in the brief moment it took for him to clasp his hands around the Ghoul’s head.

Avoiding its biting fangs, he gripped its lank and greasy hair in one gloved hand, and its neck with the other and slammed it against the stone altar. Again and again, he drove the undead’s head against the Goddesses’ sacred object, coating the pristine altar with fetid and thick black blood.

Wil screamed with terror and rage as he brutally dispatched the ghoul, his vision narrowed until its broken face was the only thing he could focus on. Each time the undead struck the altar, flashes of divine light would erupt from the stone.

Finally, Wil let go and the pulped head slumped against the ground. The ghoul didn’t even twitch as it lay lifeless, whether from Wil brutal attack or the divine magic of the altar.

Exhausted, Wil slowly straightened, breathing heavily as he looked around him. The clerics hadn’t stirred from their prayers during the entire assault, even when he was killing the ghoul on the altar in front of them.

Shuddering at the realization of how close he came to greeting death, he stared at his gloved hands. They were covered in the ghoul’s gory remains. Wil’s breath hitched at the thought that he may be infected, and he assessed himself for any contamination.

He was unsoiled, none of the blood touched him anywhere except his gloves and armored forearms. Wil exhaled in relief, before casting a cleaning spell to remove the remains from his hands with the little mana he recovered.

Completely out of Mana, Wil drew his sword for protection as he turned around to face the mage whose selfishness had almost killed him.

“God’s Blood and Bones!” He yelled as he turned. “You almost got me killed you…” He trailed off as he laid eyes on her.

“Arse…” He whispered, shocked at her appearance.

She was standing a half dozen feet away, clawing at her face. He felt ice build in the pit of his stomach.

Wil cautiously approached her, wary of her reaction and any nearby undead. The battle still raged around them, but he could spot others scratching at their skin as they screamed or cried madly for help.

The mage must have noticed his presence because she stopped scratching at her face and looked up at him. Wil could see long, bloody marks from her nails all over her cheeks, her eyes were bloodshot and filled with terror.

“Help me!” She begged, walking towards him slowly, raising her hands and making a grasping motion towards him. “Blessed goddess above, help me!” She took a few more steps before she collapsed on the ground, screaming and writhing in agony.

Wil took a few more steps towards her, holding his sword in a white-knuckled grip. Looking down at her, he could see she was frothing at the mouth. Her eyes wept tears of black blood as they rolled backwards into her head, only the whites visible. She thrashed around on the ground, her limbs bending at nearly impossible angles as the infection took hold and her body seized and strained.

There was nothing he could do to cure her, and he could think of only one thing that could help her now.

Wil stood over the mage who had both saved his life and almost killed him, with a feeling of regret and sorrow. He lifted his sword above her, gripped in both hands, with the point hovering over her chest.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered to the woman whose name he didn’t even know, but whose face he could never forget. He would always remember that look of horror in her eyes and that awful scream of despair and agony.

Closing his eyes tightly, he thrust his sword down. He felt a slight resistance as it pierced her flesh, before it struck the hard stone beneath.

He felt the movement from the mage slow as he clutched the sword tightly, and he sensed the mana gradually fade from her body. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to witness her final, agonizing moments.

From nearby, he could hear other screams suddenly silenced as his companions provided the same mercy to the other infected. With a final twitch, the body beneath his blade fell still and Wil slowly pulled the weapon free.

He only opened his eyes again when he was turned away.