Chapter 40

A geyser of crimson flame shot into the sky, pushing back the darkness. Lightning crackled, streaking out from the explosion, and gouging long furrows into the ground. Negative Energy, thick and heavy, was driven back by the intense heat, replacing it with a foreign mana.

The Armored Warrior shielded his eyes as his black sword was seized by a human hand covered in fiery red veins. Tearing his sword away from his opponent, the Armored Warrior leapt back just as another eruption of flame nearly engulfed him.

Skidding across the ground, he waited for the flames to die down before his opponent climbed out of the crater their conflict had created.

Wilhelm Brookmoor had returned to life, his wounds and injuries healed. But he was nearly unrecognizable. His skin had darkened to grey and was covered by profane runes and symbols. His veins were filled with crimson fire, glowing and visible through his flesh.

Wil’s hair had turned white, stark against his grey skin. But it was his eyes that held the greatest change. They burned red, containing a hatred that was nearly visible to the Armored Warrior.

“What have you done Brookmoor? Sold your soul? Pathetic.” The Warrior said, before swinging his sword to one side. Along the length of the blade, crimson fire burned, still present from where Wil had grasped it. Irritated, the Warrior drove the flames away, dousing them in his own black mana.

Mute, the human before him simply stared at him, before instantly disappearing. Feeling a subtle change in the air around him, the warrior blocked a fist that appeared from behind him with his mace, the blow driving his feet into the ground and cracking the hard stones around him.

Not slowing down for an instant, Wil hammered into the warrior, driving him deeper into the ground. Possessed of nothing but endless anger and hatred, madness corrupted his mind, turning his vision red and driving all rational thought from him.

Nothing existed but the desire to kill, to maim and harm the being in front of him. With a roar, Wil lifted both of his fists into the air above his head, clasping his fingers together, he struck the mace blocking him with all of his strength.

With a loud ‘crack’ the mace snapped in half, the attack smashing through it.

Slightly deflected, Wil pounded the earth, sending a shockwave through the ground a flinging stone and debris skyward. The Armoured Warrior withdrew, leaping skyward to gain distance before crashing back onto the ground.

Looking at his weapon with disgust, he threw the pieces aside, where they crashed onto the ground. He gripped his sword with both hands, funnelling his mana into the weapon for his next attack.

From the dust, Wil walk out, his glowing eyes burning with hate.

“I’m impressed, mortal. Who knew that selling your soul to an Archdevil could have such as effect. It’s useless, however. It’s time to end this!” The warrior bellowed, his mana gathered on the blade.

“Blade of Disaster!” He screamed, cutting through the air as he slashed with his newly regained sword. Wil had used this attack against him earlier. Powered by all of his strength, it had destroyed a large section of the city, but had failed to harm the Warrior. In the hands of the sword’s true owner, the attack reached an entirely new level.

Reality crumbled around it as the blade swept forward, leaving a trail of black void. The air screamed as if they world itself was crying from the power being unleashed. The void streaked towards the possessed Wil, a line of black that split the earth apart. Wil, too filled with rage and hatred to think clearly, didn’t try to avoid it, he merely charged directly ahead.

The ‘Blade of Disaster’ cut through his body, from his right shoulder to left hip, bifurcating his torso. Wil’s momentum carried him forward a few more feet, before his top half toppled over, crashing into the dirt.

The streak of void carried on, so powerful that it created a line of destruction straight to the sea, splitting the water in half in the harbor before finally dissipating far into the distance. The black void held on for a moment longer, before reality sealed itself once more and sea water began to fill the damage. The roar of rushing water filled the air, drowning out the sound of everything.

The Armored Warrior slowly lowered his sword, black energy still crackling along the length of blade. Breathing heavily, he assessed the damage. It had pushed his current form to his limit to unleash that attack, but nothing could survive it. Nodding in satisfaction, he walked towards the prone figure lying on the ground.

Blood covered the ground, pooling in the dirt in such a large amount that it had yet to be absorbed. The possessed creature that had been Wilhelm Brookmoor clawed at the ground with his remaining hand, digging his fingers into the soil as he stared balefully at the Armored Warrior.

“You’re pathetic. You’ve given everything away and this is all you are capable of? I’m going to flay the flesh from your bones, mortal, for destroying my mace! I will-” His speech was cut off as an influx of crimson energy surrounded Wil.

From his torso, lines of flesh grew rapidly, bulging obscenely as it ballooned. Mana connecting his body together in long strings, coalescing to create new skin, bone and muscle that had been destroyed. With a feral scream, Wil regained his feet, his body whole, but inhuman.

Where the flesh had regrown, it was now black, with crimson lines and protruding spikes from his shoulder and elbow. His right hand was three fingered, ending in claws of black keratin nails. His mana, once bright crimson, darkened to the colour of blood as it swirled around him.

From his right shoulder blade, a single wing emerged, leathery like a bat.

With a loud ‘crack’, Wil disappeared, not through magic, but pure physical strength and speed. In a blur, he reappeared, his fist drawn back, and legs bent. With tremendous force, he hit the armored warrior in his chest piece, splintering the black metal. A shockwave emanated from the impact, stirring up a cloud of dust.

The warrior held his ground for a moment, before he was knocked away. Skidding and sliding across the ground, he slammed into a pile of debris, disappearing from sight.

Not finished, Wil focused his mana, unconsciously using his newfound connection to the Archdevil Moloch to access spells that he had never seen, or used, before. Devils and Demons were masters of destruction and decay. Necromancy and Evocation came naturally to them, but also Illusion and other Schools of magic.

Wil wasn’t in his rational mind, his consciousness driven away, replaced with a being of pure annihilation. He pulled on his inherent abilities, the words of an incantation coming to the forefront of his mind.

Wil spoke a distorted language, the words twisted and profane, recognizable only to the demonic denizens of the nine layers of hell. His words burned in the air, forming symbols and ruins around him.

“Infernal Crown of Stars.” Wil finished, the symbols coalescing into seven motes of crimson light. Each swirled slowly above his head, forming a seven pointed crown, the motes of light hanging like jewels. Pointing forward at the debris where the Armored Warrior had last been seen, he sent the first mote of light forward.

It streaked across the ground like a red ray of light, arriving in an instant, drilling itself into the pile of rubble.

And explosion shook the ground, a pillar of red flames that reached hundreds of feet into the air. A wave of superheated air burst from the rubble, vaporizing stone, sending dust and dirt flying in all directions. The heat and flames washed over Wil, leaving him unharmed, the glowing red lines in his skins flaring even brighter as the temperature rose.

Again and again, he launched the motes of light, each adding to the explosion, until half the city was simply gone, a crater so deep that Wil could not see the bottom of it where he stood on its rim. Water from the sea began to rush into the void left behind, adding a layer of steam and mist, blocking everything from his sight.

With the spell finished, he waited, watching carefully for his foe to re-emerge. It was a long moment before a geyser of water shot into the air, a colossal figure in the center. Midnight black scales glistened in the light of the burning city, its sinuous body stretched from the ground and hundreds of feet into the air.

Reaching an adequate height, The Elder Dragon extended its wings, blocking the sky from Wil’s sight. Red eyes with hourglass pupils stared at him warily, as it opened its mouth and roared in challenge.