-The Town: Poncoe. On the East End of Ardea. Population: 2000-
Not every town on Poryphyrion welcomed the Star Festival. The chaos of the previous year, with the Star People bringing all sorts of demons with them, had only increased Poncoe's rancor and xenophobia. Between a poor crop yield and many animals falling ill, the hooded stranger basically only had to show up to get attention and do nothing before the village, carefully stoked to madness, came after him en masse, some even wielding pitchforks and torches...
"His shadow fell across its breadth
Powers dark and cursed, eldreth
His name: Anubis, the god of death!"
-The City: Sylphlaw. The Southwest of Bardon. Population: 24,000. Established nearly 700 years ago. Ruling Family: The Krovii, current ruler King Kroelus the IX-
Some cities were neutral over the Star Festival. It was fascinating, but it came and went, like a beautiful sunrise, or a bountiful fishing year. Kingdoms still needed to survive in the normal days, against the normal problems. Against the likes of Pozzo.
That had been what had caught King Kroelus' attention. What had happened to Orvance, how a strange man named Pozzo had taken advantage of the destruction the wicked star people had wrought to worm his way in, to whisper in the rulers' ear. Kroelus knew what that could mean, and he would make damn sure the bad options would not come to pass for his people. His soldiers were traditional, but they were fierce, and no blacksmith on this world could work armor better than his. And so Kroelus stood, watching his cavalry and infantry be trained,hundreds of them, the finest, bravest sous of his kingdom...
And one stranger. In a cloak.
"His armies razed across the land
Against such wrath, no mortal band
Could stay the fearsome jackal's hand..."
-The Town: Ariass. Thirty Miles North of the Drunken Gryphon. Population: 7,000-
Some towns, of course, celebrated the Star Festival with all they had. It was a chance to acquire wonders, to see things unlike anything on the land, to hear tales, taste food, sample things that would never come around in life again. And of course, for the Star People, it was one heck of a vacation. One they'd been assured they would be safe during.
The third man in the cloak drew no attention, as he walked through the fair, heading for its center...
"A tide of power, a consuming wave
Ardea could never hope to stave
To claim our land, leave it, a grave..."
One of the villagers of Poncoe was lucky: his torch came down on the man they were chasing at exactly the right angle, catching his cloak on fire.
All it did was make him stop running.
"I tire of this mockery!"
The cloak hit the ground.
And the screaming began.
"But aid did come, from other halls
This will not be! Their hands, did scawl
From star, they fell. The god, did fall."
"Who are you?" The knight said. Guard duty was a bum one, but considering all the training his liege lord had been putting them through, one he'd well take. He barely registered the cloaked man's size; he was surrounded by dozens of his fellows.
Then the man looked up, and the knight saw what lay beyond.
"...by the GODS-!"
"...By Kobber hands, his life was taken..."
"Do I have to?"
Only the cloaked figure heard the voice that commanded him.
"If such waste is what you wish..."
And suddenly, the cloaked form went from nigh invisible to anything but, like he'd somehow turned off his presence before then. As he raised his arms, one Fabien Reyer, hailing from France and on vacation with his brother, happened to look up from his leg of mutton.
"...Que diable est-ce,une partiedu spectacle...?"
"By Haruspex, his might...awakens!"
From hell. He was from hell, wielding blades of fire, and he was everywhere, laughing, and no matter where they fled he was there, his blades claiming them, their bodies coming apart like dolls, smoking bloodless wounds in his wake...
----
So much metal. Armor. Weapons. Tools.
All turned against them, rendering them weaker than children, like wheat before a scythe, a bellowing beast tearing into them where the storm of steel did not, and in his last moments, Kroelus knew despair few men would ever be cursed to know...
----
The light came, and they fell. They ran, and it found them, and they fell. They screamed, and it fell on deaf ears. Sometimes a memory entered him, even as the power arched and crashed down through the festival, yet he remained where he was, the electrical storm expanding ever outward, claiming everything in its path.
----
From their cauldron, the three watched.
"Such a waste of good souls."
"Waste is what we need now. Sacrifice pawns to claim a king." Mireya said. It had begun.
It was strange to see her without her helmet, the features beneath it a touch on the severe side, the red hair possessing a fragment of what most would call being 'stringy', the rest of the woman's body covered in dark-emerald tinted armor, the severeness of her face offset by the warmness of her expression.
"It's good you can take a beating...but this is bordering on masochism, Ash."
Ash looked blearily at the woman as she knelt by him, her expression telling him everything was going to be okay. He'd had just enough strength left to pull the crossbow bolt out of his wrist and drag himself out of the symbol of corpses, his back resting against the based of a now-ruined statue.
Despite all the pain, his eyes had been remarkably free of tears. Until now.
"...you're not really here..." Ash whispered.
"Why do you say that?"
"...Because if I don't...then I'll allow myself to forget that I watched you bleed out in my arms...you're dead, Deb. I wish anything I could say otherwise...that I took it back...but you're dead." Ash said. He didn't close his eyes though, staring at the ghost, or the hallucination, or whatever Debera Chaud now was.
"And are you?"
"...I can't die..."
"Why?"
"...I wasn't strong enough...I left the world a mess...salted it with so much danger...it's like you said...you break it...you buy it. I have to...get going..."
"Ash." Debera said, her tone soft, but solemn. "You know that's not your sole reason to live. I know it hurts...but remember why it hurts."
"...every time I draw your blade." A heartless, embittered, scarred women. A stupid kid who should have died. Mentor, teacher, maker. A surrogate son.
A regret kept close to the heart, but a vow to use the regret to do what was stolen from her. To live life.
"Maybe you can't stay out of the depths, but you can damn sure pull yourself out. There's so much left for you to see, Ash. So much to do. You can have a life...this alone isn't it. Don't make my death, all their deaths...be all there is."
Ash blinked, and for the first time since he'd stepped forth on this battlefield, his pain seemed...less.
"...I won't..." Ash said, his voice a whisper. "I won't...I won...t...I...won..."
"You did."
Debera Chaud was gone. In her place was Christine Brynn, her gentle touch settling down onto Ash's chest as knelt beside him.
"Hey Pumpkin. Sorry for the delay...but you kind of smashed the only door just before I got here. Had to be careful blasting my way in...bloody pupils. What's with the bloody pupils, Ash?" Christine said, inspecting Ash's eyes.
"Thaumaturge...Stream channeling...had to do it. Didn't agree with me."
"There seems to have been a few disagreements." Christine said, glancing at Incael's corpse before turning back to Ash, her hand sliding over the one with the hole in his wrist. "It's over now though...just relax..."
Ash did so, feeling the pain and weariness leak away, the wound on his chest and arm closing up, a myriad of cracked bones and deep bruises fading away in turn. He was unaware he'd turned his hand over so it was facing upward until Christine moved her own, giving it an affirming squeeze.
"You didn't need to go so far...you're also exhausted..." Ash said.
"Not exhausted enough." Christine said, standing up and helping the blonde man up. After a second of dizziness, Ash steadied and did a brief stretch, his sword finding his way back to his hand.
"Sir?" Came a voice. A Crown Point soldier had also found them, the ones that Christine had found and the ones that had followed her into Incael's castle and its depths having finally plucked up the courage to inspect the room the cave-in had sealed off, which Christine had originally gone in alone, albeit because she'd ordered them to stay put. "Are you all right?"
"...yes. I'd venture I am." Ash said. He didn't blame the soldier for asking. His wounds were healed, but his armor and clothing was still shredded, blood-soaked and scorched, and with mild distaste he realized Incael had yanked out a chunk of his hair somewhere during the fight. Gonna have to cut it short again.
"There's still some fighting going on outside, but it's mostly just some dregs who haven't figured out they've lost." The soldier said.
"Try and get them to surrender anyway...if they won't...that's all. Leave us. We can find our own way out." Ash said. The soldier nodded and dashed off. Christine, meanwhile, had made her way over to Incael, and the sigil of corpses he lay amongst. Her expression was blank, but the tightness around her eyes said it all.
"...we weren't here." Ash said.
"Yeah...doesn't seem like much of a reason." Christine said, Ash walking over. With a quick use of Stream-based telekinesis, Incael's body was lifted up and ejected from the rest of the remains. "Come on."
Carefully bringing all the remains together in as neat and respectful a grouping as they could muster due to the incredible damage and violation the bodies had suffered, even WITH Stream-based motion instead of bare hands, might have been the hardest thing Ash had done that day. Yet, when the bodies were assembled and set alight, Ash felt better than if he'd just left the bodies there for someone else to deal with. At least, in the end, they'd been given some dignity. Ash watched the pyre for a moment, before Christine tapped him on the shoulder.
"I found Magnificence." Christine said, the snake-sword draped over her glaive as she held it out towards Ash; even she was wary to touch it. Ash took it by the hilt, the segments of the blade snapping back together in according to his will, as he walked around to where Vyrepul lay. Saying nothing, he plunged the point of the sword into the weapon, dark energies beginning to flow up from the Remnant, absorbing themselves into Ash's blade until the murderous artifact crumbled into black dust, blowing away like it had never been there in the first place.
"Another poison to pick." Ash said, and sheathed the sword.
"Incael?" Christine said.
"Let him rot." Ash said, and walked away. Christine glanced once more at the pyre, and then swiftly followed along.
"Where to next, pumpkin? Once this is cleared up."
"We'll rest for the next few days...work out the details of the war, you work out details with OutREACH...then, enough Remnant hunting. We should go see some old friends, catch up. I haven't spoken to Paul in months."
"Knowing him, he'll probably want us to test some dangerous piece of tech again."
"As long as he doesn't ask us to test the teleporter again. Ending up on that island the last time was enough, and I'd rather not see where I'd go if it REALLY went wrong." Ash said. It was amazing how easily he fell back into small talk after what he'd just gone through...but that was life. Normalcy followed by some other 'cy, and then back to normal, sometimes with no rhyme or reason, a pattern even Xaxargas never cracked. Ash would take it. There was worse in the world.
Climbing the rope ladder that had replaced the stairs wasn't hard, but the distortion effect still on the castle and the bodies having been somewhat cleared away by invading Crown Point troops caused Ash to swiftly get lost, Christine following along and having no luck herself when she tried to puzzle the way out. Eventually, they found a staircase, and after a moment of thought, Ash chose to climb it.
"You think there's an exit upstairs?"
"If we have to, we're climb down the darn walls. Anything to get us OUT of here..." Ash said, heading up the winding staircase with Christine, finally emerging on top of one of the castle walls. The presence of other people up on the wall made Ash's hand go to his sword, but a few further moments clarified them as Crown Point soldiers.
"Sir Marsello!" One of the soldiers said, noticing him in turn. Ash strolled across the wall, looking down at the battlefield, swarming with Crown Point colors. A tragedy that the sight existed, but things had gone into motion long before Ash had gotten there. How many of those standing below would be dead in the mud if he and Christine hadn't gotten involved?
All of them. They'd all be dead.
"Get going kid, or get got. Sometimes, though, take what you can get. Life won't offer anything else."
"Is it over, sir?" The soldier was asking, breaking Ash out of his brief reverie he'd been having.
"...It's over. Incael's dead. The war's done." Ash said. There will be more...and I'll be there.
Ash took a moment to glance over the side, pondering the logistics of climbing down, and hence was caught off guard when the soldier he'd just spoken to started yelling, really loud. Not in pain or rage though. Instead, he called out to the men below, his voice impossibly vast and carrying; he must have activated some kind of Blackbird amplification charm. Ash hoped no one noticed his startled sideways two second dance. It wasn't exactly very dignified.
The fact that Christine giggled indicated she'd noticed it. He could live with that. And the soldier was still calling. No, not calling. Proclaiming.
"MY FRIENDS! THE WAR IS OVER! THE MAD KING INCAEL HAS BEEN SLAIN! CUT DOWN BY THE GODSLAYER HIMSELF! HAIL THE GODSLAYER! HAIL! HAIL!"
"Oh my life." Ash said, flushing a bit as the hundreds below began to call hail, raising their weapons and flags, cheering his name, and cheering even more when Ash gave a semi-shy wave. Ash drew in a long breath and drew it out even slower, as the hails down below continued, even the soldiers on the wall next to him hailing.
"Your life. Our life." Christine said, putting a hand on his shoulder, looking down on the battlefield, a cool breeze making her golden hair drift around her head.
"...a good life." Ash said, reaching up and putting his hand on hers. I wonder what's next in it.
----
A few weeks later.
Any eyes that saw it would have seen a lightning bolt from a clear sky, a
blast of brilliant luminescent that arced down from the heavens and
crashed down into the depths of Vylogy Forest, a woodland acre that
extended a good dozen square miles and generally knew no trouble. Anyone
with a high, distant view would have seen smoke rising from the impact
point deep within the forest, smoke that would trail off within ten
minutes.
Then the forest was quiet again, and Polyphyrion continued to turn.
And for the time, things were quiet.
For a bit.
"...I don't know how Paul talked me into testing the teleporter again, but I suddenly feel the need to state that I AM NOW DEEPLY REGRETTING IT."
"Don't worry, Ash. At least we're not on an island again."
"Oh, my life."
"And this is my legacy, legacy...
This is my legacy, legacy...
There's no guarantee,
It's not up to me,
You can only see
This is my legacy, legacy
Legacy, legacy ..."
"Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"
-William Yeats
"Beware the Jabberwock my son, the jaws that bite, the claws that catch."
-Lewis Carroll
Do you want to know how I killed Mason Farrell? The Widowmaker? He threw a temper tantrum that I wouldn't die and started swinging Woundwort around like the lunatic he was, not paying attentionto what he was doing. Cleared the field and made himself a nice big target for my army to riddle him with arrows. It's not hard to kill a combat demigod when he's got twenty pieces of poisoned metal in him.
Christine killed the Black Spider. I not only failed to kill Spinne, I polluted something beyond price in my desperation to do so. Such foul blood should never have touched the purity that a unicorn horn possesses. And she and Caleb killed Antiwan. I was just there to provide an extra target and buy them a few seconds.
Xaxargas? Hundreds died just to give an opening I leapt into. The tales and songs, so often, act like I went to the Blacklands, and bested him, all by myself. The worst part is few countries and kingdoms hold it against me, that their sons and daughters died while I lived and got the glory.They're happy that the world was saved, that they get to live on, that the people who didn't come back didn't die in vain.
Do not get me wrong. I am not...complaining about what occurred. I've been blessed. Incredibly blessed. But there is a lesson that only heroes learn. Dreams like mine...come at a cost. Often, the cost is other people. And by the nature of what you become, you will never be able to forget them. I will not. I have my dream. So I will make a world where others can dream. A world where dreams can happen with a smaller chance of the loss of others. A better world, as best I can. Another hero said it. best. With great power... ------
Comes a lot of practice at dodging sword blows that are trying to cut your head in half. Unfortunately, that didn't help Ash with the follow up punch, the blow rocking him and dropping him to his knees, his crimson mist aura snuffing out like a candle.
"...figures." Incael said. "I was getting pretty tired of your fantasy crap anyway."
Ash said nothing, his eyes locked onto his broken sword, like he couldn't believe it had happened.
"...anything else to say? No?" Incael said. "Good. Now to do what Xaxargas couldn't. I will surpass a god, and I will put an end to your little heroic movement. There's only room for ONE at this table!"
Incael lashed out his sword, the air screaming as the cursed blade cut through it.
It met the broken blade of Ash, the edge of Vyrepul digging into the edge of the shattered sword, tearing it free from Ash's hand, the blade arcing end over end...
"No." Ash said.
Then his hands grabbed his sword, the sword he had purposely let go of so the impact would spin it. Grabbed it blade first, his fingers wrapping around the shattered weapon like it was soft as cotton, Ash standing up and swinging for the fences, catching Incael completely off guard as he smashed the hilt of the blade across his face.
"No! No! NO! NO!" Ash snarled, battering Incael several more times before the king jumped away, blood flowing from his freshly opened cheek wound, his eyes bulging with shock. Ash flipped the sword over in his right hand, grabbing the hilt again as he held out his other, free hand, gesturing. The other half of the blade flew into it, Ash grabbing onto the broken weapon piece like it was part of his hand. Unlike his right hand, his left hand had lost the glove he'd been wearing. It still clutched the sword piece like it was a shaft of smooth wood.
"More parlor tric-" Incael said, and thrust up his arm, his wrist-crossbow firing two more bolts. They flew through empty air, Ash dashing away and looping around a statue, closing in to Incael and lashing out. Incael suddenly found himself on the defensive, Ash swinging the two broken sword pieces like a traditional sword and dagger combo, the slashes and strikes glancing at the king's leather armor, Incael's arms blurring as he tried to block them all.
"YOUR TRICKS." Ash said, and then with a hacking cough, he abruptly spewed forth golden mist. Incael went from shock to outright terror, stumbling backwards so fast he nearly fell down.
"IMPOSSIBLE! MY GOLD DAMP! ONLY I KNOW THAT!"
Ash gave Incael a dull look, before moving his hands together, his sword pieces clicking back together. Eyes that cast judgment for seemingly forgetting what Ash's primary power, so much a part of his legends, was.
"...No. Enough! ALL HEADS OFF-!"
Ash's hands clenched, and the partially merged sword bent outward, a piece of it snapping off and flying out like a bullet, slipping past Incael's gorget and slamming directly into his throat. His death curse cut off in a wet rasping cough, Incael grabbing at his neck and trying to wheeze air in, even as the piece flew back into Ash's hand.
"Funny story. I couldn't pull the precise knowledge from you, so that was just pretty colored smoke. That's just me, though. Always relying on other people to survive." Ash said, as the crimson mist began to leak from his wounds again, his re-fused, again-intact sword erupting with blue energy. "Wanna see me do another impression? This is my fiance."
Incael couldn't answer, both in fact and in time, as Ash blurred over and slashed his sword out, meeting Incael's with force that shattered the statues all around them.
"YOU FIGHT WITH SOMEONE FOR YEARS, YOU LEARN TO EXTEND THE RANGE!" Ash yelled. Incael had no sooner blocked than Ash fled backwards and then charged in again. Incael yelled in turn, a wordless noise of rage, and slashed out with his sword.
Ash didn't meet it with his own. Instead he leapt and kicked Incael in the face, both of his feet smashing into Incael and knocking him backwards, the young man flipping backwards off the kick and landing in a crouch. Incael regained his position just in time for Ash to dash back and then back forward to do it again, Incael knocked backwards into yet another statue. Bloody spittle flying from his mouth, Incael pushed out and slashed, Ash dodging, a cutting edge of force slicing through another statue and carving deep into the wall beyond. Shrieking his rage, Incael advanced again, his sword hacking through air and stone, Ash's blurring form dodging it all.
"YOU ARE NOTHING!"
"So I've heard." Ash said, and leapt backwards and up at a harsh angle to dodge another slash, striking one of the pillars and rebounding off it, his sword slashing out, Incael barely blocking, dust flying up from the clash of weapons. Ash hit the ground and sprang to his feet, leaping up at another angle, ricocheting off another platform like he was doing his best impression of a certain patriotic shield, flying back towards Incael, his blade slashing out, this time cutting through the king's guard and armor, Incael snarling as he tried to keep his feet.
"All heads-!"
Ash's final jump mirrored Incael's battle-starter, the blonde man leaping, bouncing off another pillar, and coming down with his sword in an arc like a ton of bricks, the pain in his neck vanishing as their blades clashed, the shriek of the Vyrepul swallowing Incael's words. Loophole. Too close anyway...
"RARGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!" Incael snarled, not understanding why Ash was now 'immune' to his instant-win button. Too mad at this sudden turnaround to consider logical possibilities, Incael simply resorted to jerking away and bringing the Remnant down on Ash's blade, the force of the blow slamming into Ash and echoing around his body. He took it anyway, he was starting to adapt and he could take it, slowly advancing backwards, sparks, smoke, and dust swirling around the pair as they dueled. With every blow, a puzzle piece fell into place in Ash's head. Soon...soon...
Incael broke off first, his breath exploding through him in ragged gasps, his shoulders heaving. To contrast, Ash, while breathing heavy, still had something resembling composure.
"It's...a trick..."
"No. I said to burn. People just never realize there's more than one thing that can burn." Ash said, giving his sword a brief twirl. His brow leaking blood and malice, Incael began to reach for his belt.
Ash's eyes suddenly flicked away, something that Incael was not yet battered enough to miss. A moment later, Incael heard it too. Distant voices.
The realization hit the two at the exact same time, though they had very different reactions. Ash's eyes widened. Incael's brightened.
"...Well well. Looks like you have backup." Incael said, Ash's eyes snapping back to the king. "I wonder if they'll be..."
Ash blazed over, his sword slamming into Incael's, his defensive, opportunity-hunting stance abandoned for one of pure aggression. Incael laughed, the brightness on his eyes growing.
"How fitting. To have victory snatched from your grasp by others, the last thing you wanted!"
"You haven't won yet!" Ash said.
"They're coming, though. Maybe YOU can escape Vyrepul's death curse, but I doubt THEY can. Every soul I cut down empowers my blade. They will bring about your end, and your end will bring about the end of every fool I brought here with my war." Incael said, seemingly having lost the need for breath as the situation turned back into his favor. Ash jerked away from his opponent, his head snapping towards the entrance.
Unfamiliar voices. Backup from Crown Point, Vurnir solders coming to assist their king, lost tourists, it didn't matter. Incael would kill them, whoever they were; Ash couldn't be everywhere at once, and even if he could keep Incael from speaking his magic words, he wouldn't necessarily be able to keep Incael from trying to kill them the old fashioned way. Ash had been hardened beyond belief by his experiences; he doubted the people coming were so fortunate and hence would be far more breakable.
"You see? You don't want to share. All that nonsense before WAS JUST THAT!" Incael said, stabbing his blade down, silver energy erupting from the ground in a line of stabbing death, Ash forced to roll out of the way. Too late, Ash realized it was a feint, a move to create distance, Incael looping away and running towards the entrance.
"Someone's coming-!" The distant voice said.
More ghosts in my wake...
Incael drew up as the sword flew over his head and slammed into the stone above the soleentrance into the room, Ash's blade surging and then exploding with overwhelming power, half of the entire wall shattering and collapsing over the entrance, Ash's sword tumbling into and becoming lost under the mass. A cloud of smoke briefly engulfed Incael, before it faded away save for the sounds of stray falling rocks. The way was shut. No one else was getting in.
"Such heroic nonsense." Incael said.
A second later, he was behind Ash. The blonde man wasn't the only one who could be swift. And it wasn't just his feet that had moved fast.
The sword slash cut through Ash's armor like it wasn't there, the blade biting deep, Ash feeling like it was seizing his heart and squeezing it even as it tore across his flesh and bone. The pain erupted through him, sending hammers of darkness against his eyes, the heat erupting from him taking on a more muted, wet tone as blood gushed forth from the wound, running down his legs and dripping onto the ground.
"I'd almost respect the lengths you'd go to keep the glory for yourself. If only it wasn't so damn useful." Incael said, blood dripping from his sword as he held it out, eyes tracing over the cursed weapon in admiration. "The bloody fire. Gone out and done. And good riddance."
Ash didn't reply save for a small whimper. His legs swayed, more blood spilling forth onto the ground.
Then his knees buckled.
Partially. Ash's last second catch kept him on his feet, hunched over, each breath a new agony, the wound burning down his front. The blood continued to drip...drip...
Stop.
Incael, not hearing the sound he expected, turned around. Ash remained crouched over for a few more seconds before he mirrored the motion. His injury had stopped bleeding. Now it just erupted more faint crimson smoke, the red haze against framing the blonde man.
It was standing there, in his semi crotch, that Incael realized that the whole time Ash had been dueling him, he'd had a second sword in the sheath on his side. Specifically, the same sheath he'd drawn his first sword from.
"...Your...kind..." Ash said, his voice a ragged, hissing whisper, anger finally clear in his tone. "You bring...such ugliness...in your wake...and call it...right...and good...you murdered her..."
"What are you babbling about?"
"IF YOU WANT TO BATTLE WITH SWORDS OF DEATH, THEN YOU WILL HAVE WHAT YOU WISH." Ash said, a hand soaked in his own blood seizing onto the hilt of his second sword. This time, he drew it fully.
Incael's Vyrepul emitted the sounds of mad shrieks, of the pain of hewed flesh and spilt blood. The sound of Ash's second blade was more akin to the snapping noises of closing jaws and breaking bones, the weapon an interlocking length of dull white segments of some unknown material, material that looked like metal, and bone, and liquid, the length uncoiling like a snake, droplets of fluid striking the ground and hissing, burning, bubbling away in the water. A few of the drops fell on Ash as he moved the sword around, but he didn't even notice, in that they didn't affect him at all, the blonde man flicking his wrist and snapping the sword back together, pressing a bloody thumb against its base and tracing blood all along its length.
A moment later, the blood was gone, absorbed by the blade, red tracing out onto the segments, interlocking fangs that seemed to prime and extend even more as Ash uncoiled the weapon again, the metallic lengths whirling around as he snapped the blade out, a sword, a whip, a perfect fusion of the two.
"LET'S BURN."
"...let's." Incael said, and pressed the magical sigil on his belt.
A moment later, every single statue in the room exploded. Incael regretted having to destroy his uncle's work, but while he was mad, cruel, and desiring of mass death, he was not wholly stupid. He'd prepared defenses, including this one. He could fight Ash with this poison sword...or he could blow up every statue in the room, including the two that were flanking Ash.
The blonde man never knew what hit him, his seething rage briefly changing to surprise before the flames and annihilated rock consumed him in a crushing, hammering storm. Incael debated a moment, and then slashed out with his sword, bringing a silver pillar of energy down on the spot, which also exploded. The dust and smoke engulfed him again, but the Stream-trick of blowing such detritus away was among the simplest and most easily taught techniques, and soon the air was clear, leaving Incael to approach his foe.
Ash did not move, partially buried under the wrecked statues, his second sword lost. Incael checked his hands, and to be on the safe side, violently kicked Ash in the side of the head when he stirred. With that done, he shoved the rocks aside with another Stream-push and seized Ash's ankle, checking again to make sure the sword wasn't hiding somewhere. No sign of it.
It was done. All over but the shouting. Or the screaming.
"My brothers used to tell me that when they became king, if I made them mad, they would cut off my head. I spent years bowing and scraping, not wanting to make them mad...idiots. They deserved to die." Incael said, dragging Ash's limp form across the inner cave, his body bumping over the various wreckage of the fight. "When the world challenged them they cringed and hid. Me...they taught me to challenge the world. Make it my own. And so I will."
Incael's path changed, Ash vaguely aware he was being pulled around something before Incael stopped, reached down, and partially picked Ash up to throw him into the center of the horrific symbol that Incael had forged of bodies and blood, his brothers and their families, his crime literally scarring the earth. Ash thudded down amongst the remains, fresh blood beginning to leak onto the old, dried blood. Incael stepping onto the sigil as well, careful not to break any of the lines.
"Like I said. The world only respects those who seize it. Their death brought me this magnificent power, but my efforts will multiply it a thousandfold. Your blood, my blood, mixed on this work of mine...and my range will go from twenty feet to twenty MILES. Which will be more than enough to claim what's left of my army and all the forces Crown Point so nicely assembled to face them."
Ash's eyes popped open, the rage blazing.
Incael literally kicked it off his features, blood spraying as his foot smashed against Ash's face, his arm spasming and flopping back down to the ground, Incael planting said foot on Ash's chest, ribs creaking as he bore down.
"And what are you, in the end? A liar, a failure, and a joke. Best served as materials, just like my brothers. Unworthy of the sweet taste of victory. But like I've said. There's only room for one at this feast." Incael said. "Any last words?"
"...Please..."
"Begging? Oh do continue." Incael said, smirking as Ash squirmed beneath his heel...and across the room, several rocks began to shift...
"Please...there must be...another way..."
"If there was another way, neither you or I would be here. This is the way of the world." Incael said, Ash unable to stand back up, more blood spilling out onto the ground as he tried anyway. "The way of those who sit at the head of the table. I suppose it's not fair...but fairness is just what they sell you before they cut off your-"
The rock debris covering the entrance exploded, and Ash's sword flew across the room with blinding speed, his hand seizing onto it.
Incael put a crossbow bolt into his wrist half a second later. Ash almost looked comically surprised that Incael had seen it coming, before his fingers went limp, the blade tumbling from them. Incael kicked it away, the sword splashing down into a fetid pool.
"Head." Incael finished, before he ran his thumb along Vyrepul's blade and flicked his blood down among Ash.
Beneath him, Ash felt the power awaken. Dark, vile, forbidden. A pollution of the Stream, a process you'd have to be insane to conceive of, let alone cast. Genocide in a sole hand, and a desire to close it around countless throats.
Ash began to thrash like a lunatic, but he was too weak, one arm pinned to the ground, his body further pinned by Incael's boot, his weapons gone, the Stream slipping through his fingers as he tried to use it offensively, and all the while Incael watched, smiling.
"Goodbye, Marsello. It's time to eat."
Incael held the sword out in front of him, his smile growing ever wider. The power...the glory...all for HIM...
"All..."
Ash thrashed beneath his foot.
"Heads..."
Glorious.
"Off..."
Legions suddenly felt death on their neck.
"But..."
Ash's free hand clamped onto the hilt of Incael's sword, the faint clatter of silver chains barely audible as Ash pressed the star in his palm into it.
"KASTA OM!"
For a moment, Incael felt the sudden, wrenching shift as the nature of his power altered. But his surprise could not catch up with his words.
"Mine?"
Incael's body spasmed, and Ash felt the new rush of hot blood spray onto him, and then he collapsed back down, the Fordaring charm falling from bloody fingers. A moment later, Incael's headless body crashed down to the ground. A moment after that, the sigil beneath Ash went as dead as the mad king.
Then there was nothing. Save the quiet, and the sound of Ash's breathing.
...Nice move. You going to claim that was the plan from the start?
"...I didn't need...his feast...brought my own chocolate bar."
...that was TERRIBLE.
"It's what I am..." Ash said, his sword sliding from the puddle into his free hand again, Ash not looking at it as he stared at the rock above. "What I am...what I am...what I am."
"Until the referee rings the bell...
Until both your eyes start to swell...
Until the crowd goes home
What we gonna do ya'll?
Give em hell...turn their heads...
Gonna live life 'til we're dead.
Give me scars...give me pain...
Then they'll say to me, say to me, say to me
There goes a fighter, there goes a fighter
Here comes a fighter
That's what they'll say to me, say to me, say to me,
This one's a fighter..."
