Chaos Rising: The Realms Book Six: (An Epic LitRPG Series)

by C. M. Carney

Lex twisted as Baelmaera was shoved back into his field of vision, the victim of a kick to the chest by a huge blue foot. The chaotic archon smashed into the control panel, then dove as a long black blade swung towards her. The blade clanged off the edge of the console, casting a fine spray of crystal.

  Lex’s heart surged with joy as an eight-foot-tall, hulked-out bläärt came into view.

  “Simon am bläärt,” Simon bellowed and swung the black blade again. “Feel the wrath of the Oblivion Blade.”

  Lex recognized it as the blade from the archon’s tale, the one the Princes had used to imprison Baelmaera. She lied. He laughed, his momentary surprise pushed aside by logic.

  Why are you surprised? Vonn’s voice said in his head. The greatest lies are always hidden within truths.

  Simon swung the sword in a clumsy arc that took a chunk from the crystal floor on impact. Lex’s heart sank. Simon bläärt was a horrible swordsman. It made sense. Simon had only been deadly with his knives because of his possession of Dirge’s body, somehow tapping the corpse’s genetic memory. Despite the strength of Simon's current bläärt form, he was still a bläärt and unlikely to have any mastery of the two-handed sword.

  Baelmaera rolled to her feet and dual cast Chaos Bolt. Both knives of pure energy lashed towards Simon. Just before impact, the bolts changed direction and slammed into the sword. The length of black metal drank the energy of the spell and the motes of light along its surface deepened in color.

  A wave of raw magic exploded outwards from the blade and tore into Baelmaera. However, the body of an archon was tough, designed to take a beating, and the rebounded attack barely scuffed her armor. Baelmaera changed tactics and stepped forward dodging Simon’s next attack. A fist lashed forward and hit Simon in his behemoth neck. An exhalation of air that was part burp, part surprise burst from the mega-bläärt’s mouth and Simon stumbled back.

  Baelmaera didn’t let up, delivering several quick strikes to Simon, including a ducking cross to the bläärt’s ribs. Simon roared and brought his knee up hard into Baelmaera’s face. The metallic-crystalline faceplate cracked along the fault-line of the old crack and Baelmaera stumbled back. Simon threw another punch and dislodged the archon’s faceplate.

  Three-quarters of the faceplate flew across the room and hit Odymm Tal in the chest. The blow drew Lex’s gaze and a surge of hope filled him when the Grandmaster’s eyes fluttered open. The Chaos Spore inside his chest had dimmed, perhaps even shrunk.

  Is its power connected to Baelmaera’s attention?

  Lex wanted to cheer Simon on but feared drawing attention to Tal. If the Grandmaster could join the fray, it might just turn the tide in their favor. Tal nodded to Lex and a blue-white glow flowed through his eyes. His hands clenched to fists and thin beams of light began to pierce the spaces between the magma colored bands holding him tight.

  Simon raged louder as Baelmaera landed several more blows. Her fists were blurs slamming into him, knocking him back, off kilter. Simon swung the sword in a clumsy, one-handed arc. The archon threw an uppercut, snapping the wrist. Simon howled and lost his grip on the blade.

  It sailed in an erratic helicopter arc, ricocheted off the control console and clattered to a stop near Lex’s feet. For an endless heartbeat, Lex just stared at the sword, the blade’s point, and its anti-magic properties, mere inches from his right toe. Lex silenced his yelp of joy and stretched his toe towards the blade.

  His long inactive muscles screamed at him. He strained as hard as he could, but the bands, and his own stumpy legs, prevented him from reaching the last half an inch. A part of him, the sarcastic asshole part, wanted to burst with bitter laughter. Because why wouldn’t the fate of two universes come down to such a small distance.

  A sudden howl of surprise made Lex flinch, pulling his foot even further from the sword. He turned to see Baelmaera slam a roundhouse kick into Simon’s stomach. The monster bläärt stumbled backwards, arms pinwheeling before he fell onto his back a few feet from Lex.

  Simon grinned at Lex with a fool’s expression, his bläärt brains clearly addled from repeated punches to the head. Lex looked from him to the sword and made a nudging motion with his head. He considered using his words, but Baelmaera would overhear them, and put any stop to Lex’s plan.

  Simon stared mouth open in incomprehension as Lex repeated the gesture several times. Finally, Simon grinned, hand reaching for the hilt of the sword. A shadow fell enveloped him and he looked up to find Baelmaera standing over him.

  Simon tried to swing, but the chaotic archon stepped down hard on his wrist, dislodging the blade. She then kicked Simon in the side of his thick bläärt skull, knocking him unconscious. Baelmaera’s eyes snapped to the sword as it skittered within range of Lex’s toe.

  Both of their eyes widened as they looked from the sword to each other. Then both moved.

  Lex’s toe touched the blade an instant before the archon’s foot kicked it out of his reach. A numbing wave of anti-magic pulsed through Lex and the bands restraining him blinked and disappeared. His yelp of joy was short-lived, as one of Baelmaera’s fists flew towards his face.

  Lex tumbled from the chair in a clumsy tuck and roll and reached for the blade. His fingers wrapped around the hilt just as a metallic foot slammed into his side. The audible crack and a lancing pain announced several ribs had broken.

  Lex coughed and hacked up a gobbet of blood. He fought through the pain and used the momentum of Baelmaera’s kick to roll to his feet. He stood, hunched over, but armed with a weapon designed to take down a Prince of Chaos.

  “You’re done, bitch.”

  “Doubtful,” Baelmaera said, the broken faceplate blanking her expression. “I don’t think you’ve even picked up a sword since entering the Realms.”

  Lex wanted to make some witty comeback, but the truth of her words dug at his confidence and his mouth hung open like a country bumpkin. A partial smile crooked the small corner of what remained of her mouth and she attacked.

  Lex swung the blade in a wild, off-kilter arc, which Baelmaera avoided by stepping inside his defenses. She jabbed him in the sternum, bowing him over. Her hand snapped up and grabbed him around the neck. She lifted him off the ground and grabbed his wrist, stopping his swing. Blazing fury poured from her energetic eyes. She squeezed and Lex's windpipe creaked and threatened to rupture.

  “You will never win,” Lex croaked, desperate to buy a few more seconds of life, a few more seconds to come up with some desperate, fool plan. Baelmaera pulled him close and whispered in his ear.

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re a huge pain in the ass?”

  “All the damn time.”

  “Well, I’ll be the last to say so. “Goodbye, Lex.”

  “Fff….” Lex began, but her fingers dug into his throat, cutting his insult short.

  “That being said, your insolence must be punished, and it will start with you seeing your precious Earth end.”

  She rotated ninety degrees so Lex could see the view screen. What he saw made his heart sink.

  All four Princes had descended into Harlan’s Watch and entombed themselves in odd cocoons. Above them, a pair of massive rings made of crimson rune scrawled metal had emerged from the edges of the disk. The runes scrawled along the surface of the metal started to glow as they drank in the raw power of the Realm of Chaos.

  The rings began to spin and a singularity between worlds sparked into existence.

  43

  The center of the singularity blazed atop the tower at the center of Harlan’s Watch. It seemed appropriate that the Princes would use the faux version of an Order Lance as their focusing device, a not so subtle middle finger to the Lords of Order.

  The point of bright light expanded, shredding the top of the tower as it expanded. Sparks appeared across the town and it took Lex a moment to realize they were not additional singularities. That was the good news.

  The bad was that he was dying. The flashes of light sparking across his vision were the product of
oxygen deprivation, harbingers of his imminent doom as Baelmaera slowly suffocated him. His legs kicked ineffectually, and he tried to bring the sword to bear.

  His efforts did nothing but attract her attention and she turned to him, eyes blazing chaotic fire behind her broken half-mask of a face. She applied slow pressure to his wrist, twisting it so that the blade was parallel to the floor. Pain exploded up his arm and Lex would have gasped, had he the spare air for gasping.

  Beyond Baelmaera, through a growing haze of spots, Lex saw Tal’s intense stare. Bound as he was, the Grandmaster could move nothing but his eyes, which he was doing effusively. He looked to Lex’s right and then down and then at himself. Perhaps it was the lack of oxygen, but Lex was having a serious problem translating Tal’s eyeball Morse code.

  With death staring Lex in the face, understanding came to him.

  Pain exploded up Lex’s arm, the product of a sudden increase in the force Baelmaera applied to his wrist. Two distinct cracks reached Lex’s ears as both bones snapped. His fingers lost their grip, and the blade fell. The blade twisted, spinning on an invisible axis running from pommel to tip. Lex’s leg moved, positioning his booted foot directly under the tumbling blade. Lex did not remember ordering the leg to do any such thing, leading him to suspect that his subconscious mind had decided that in the battle to save himself, Lex was the greatest obstacle to their survival.

  The flat of the blade landed atop Lex’s foot and his leg flicked forward. It soared, spinning on its long axis towards Tal. The motion caught Baelmaera’s attention, and she turned, the side of her head blocking Lex’s view of both sword and Tal.

  Baelmaera’s eyes flared, and she released Lex’s wrist, tossing him back by his throat. Lex gasped for breath as the back of his legs smacked hard against the chair. He tumbled head over heels and fell hard to the floor. He inhaled deep, ragged breaths and stumbled to his feet in time to see Tal rise, sword held in both hands. The Grandmaster’s eyes locked onto Baelmaera and he danced forward, spinning and swinging the blade with a level of skill that rivaled Vonn.

  Baelmaera dove to avoid decapitation, but she rolled into a crouch and closed her hand. Chaotic fire exploded around her fist and Tal stumbled, bent over at the waist as the Chaos Spore inside him flared to brightness.

  The Grandmaster screamed and collapsed to one knee, a shaky arm holding the sword towards his enemy. Baelmaera stood and walked towards him, staying out of the range of the deadly blade. The Chaos Spore raged brighter and Tal gritted his teeth in agony.

  “I always admired the fight in you, Grandmaster, but it is time to lay down your sword and accept your fate.”

  “I accepted my fate the moment I entered your foul realm Baelmaera.” Tal coughed and a gobbet of blood landed on the floor between them. Sweat wreathed his face and his eyes were raw and red. But still, he pushed himself up sword aimed at the Lady of Shadows. “And I will meet that fate standing on my feet.”

  “Killing you will be nothing but a minor inconvenience to me, but that does not mean I will not enjoy it.”

  “Oh, I do not think you will,” Tal said with an almost feral grin. He released his two-handed grip on the hilt, spun the tip towards him, and with his free hand as a guide, slammed the blade through his abdomen.

  Tal grunted in pain but did not stop pushing until the blade skewered the Chaos Spore. In an instant the raging light at Tal’s core went dark as the anti-magic properties of the sword siphoned the raw chaotic mana away from the spore.

  “No!” Baelmaera roared, recognizing the Grandmaster’s plan. Shock held her for the merest of moments before she launched herself towards him with all the speed and power provided by the archon’s body. Though she was quick, she was not quick enough. By the time she was close, Tal had wrenched the blade free. It clattered to the ground slick with blood, and with a grunt he pushed the sword from him.

  Blessed silver-blue light exploded from Tal’s other hand and encased Baelmaera in a solid matrix of symmetrical angles. She froze as if encased in ice and Tal stood. Mana twined around his free hand freeing the others from Baelmaera’s bindings. Errat’s eyes opened and he shook his head, clearing the last vestiges of Baelmaera’s control.

  Lex rushed to Tal and supported him as the Grandmaster collapsed to one knee. Lex fished through his satchel, pulling a Minor Health Potion free and poured it past Tal’s lips. The Grandmaster nodded his thanks, but Lex could see it had done little to heal Tal’s wounds.

  “It is the spore,” Tal said and explained the mass of chaos had released a neurotoxin as it died.

  “I will not let you die,” Lex countered.

  “I appreciate the sentiment, but we have larger problems.” He nodded his head over his shoulder.

  Lex stood to see the singularity had expanded to encompass nearly all of Harlan’s Watch. Through the seething torrents of energy, Lex could see the real Harlan’s Watch and the chaos version flickering between realities. Then a third version joined the other two.

  This third iteration was similar in overall design but built from starkly different materials. To Lex’s untrained eye it looked like a high-security military base. His knees weakened and his mouth hung open. He was looking at Earth. Five figures stood atop the tower of this Harlan’s Watch and a guttural truth filled him with dread. He was looking at the Cabal.

  A sensation Lex hadn’t felt in some time returned. It faded in and out of existence, mimicking the phasing of the Earth-based Harlan’s Watch, the one built by the Cabal. His Player Tracker ability had gone active. The five figures atop the tower shifted back into focus. They were too far away for Lex to make out any features, but one thing was certain, Gryph was among them.

  “Gryph?” Lex said in a low, shocked voice. “He is with the Cabal?”

  The warp shifted again, and Lex could feel the malevolent excitement of the Princes of Chaos, even though their protective cocoons. Vonn and the others stepped up beside him, but none said a word. Lex could not tear his eyes from the impending apocalypse before him. Vonn put a hand on his shoulder, and both Seraphine and Errat hovered in his peripheral vision. Even the thumping footsteps of mega-bläärt Simon couldn’t pull Lex’s attention.

  “We have to stop them. Can we still use that snazzy Anchor of Order spell to kill the Princes?” Tal didn’t answer, forcing Lex to turn to the Grandmaster.

  Tal held his arm straight, pouring mana into the mystical prison that held Baelmaera. The man was sweating, his free handheld to the wound in his gut. He grit his teeth and his arm began to shake. He shook his head.

  “Not without releasing her.” He turned to look at Lex, his eyes intense. “There’s only one way to stop the Princes.”

  Understanding came to Lex, followed by the twin emotions of fear and acceptance. His eyes snapped to the spinning Realm Gate and then to the Order Lance’s control panel. He turned back to Tal and scowled.

  “Well, bugger,” Lex said. “That’s a kick in the jumblies.”

  “What is?” Simon asked in a guttural voice.

  “We have to crash the Order Lance into the Realm Gate,” Vonn said.

  “I’m not a betting girl, but our chances of surviving that are slim to none,” Seraphine said.

  “Perhaps not,” Tal said. “Get into the Order Engine. I'll expand its field to surround all of you. It will exponentially reduce the duration the engine can last, but if providence favors us, the energy field created by the time compression should protect you.”

  “And then what?” Simon asked. “We float around in this crap Realm until we die?”

  Tal looked to Baelmaera and his face softened. “Jurredix and I survived. Perhaps you will as well.”

  Lex exchanged looks with the others and one by one they all nodded, except Errat. The warborn turned to Tal and knelt.

  “Errat could not help but notice that the Grandmaster said perhaps you will survive. You do not plan on joining us?”

  “You cannot contain Baelmaera, and someone needs to pilot the lance,” Tal said
. “I am the only choice.” He turned his gaze back to Baelmaera whose struggles against Tal’s trap had fractured the surface of the energetic matrix.

  “But you’ll die,” Lex said.

  “I am dead already,” Tal grunted and shifted his blood-soaked hand on his abdomen.

  “He’s right,” Lex said. “Everyone, into the Order Engine now.” The others stood where they were forcing Lex to raise his voice. “Now!”

  Vonn led them to the Order Engine as Lex helped Tal up to the control panel. The pale Grandmaster ran his fingers along a series of runic controls and the arms of the time dilation device began to spin. Lex opened his mouth but did not know what to say. He placed a hand on Tal’s shoulder and squeezed. Tal nodded at Lex and tapped a few more runes. The engines hummed to life and the Order Lance pushed its way out of the nebula-like cloud. It picked up speed, its course and heading would smash it into the closest of the spinning rings.

  If they were in time, the impact would destroy the gate before the Princes invaded Earth.

  “Take my ring,” the Grandmaster said, extending his hand to Lex. “If you survive this, you’ll know what to do with it.” Lex’s eyes went to the silver-blue band of metal on the Grandmaster’s index finger. Lex was about to object, but the intensity in Tal’s eyes made Lex nod. He pulled the ring free and placed it on his own finger.

  “Now, go. Before she escapes her containment.”

  “If by some miracle I make it back home, I’ll search for any surviving Tals and I will tell them what you did here.”

  Odymm Tal, Grandmaster of Order, Arch-Deacon of the Circle nodded through misty eyes. Without another word, Lex turned and ran towards the Order Engine. He motioned for Vonn to join the others inside the field and the rogue stepped through, his motion slowing until he seemed to freeze.

  Just as Lex reached the steps a wave of force exploded behind him, tripping him up and knocking him to the ground. His face smashed into the step, cracking his skull and forcing his neck into an odd angle. A prompt popped into his vision.