by Kyle Johnson
Aranos fired two more Kinetic Bullets at the back of the lanohtar’s head, again punching into its brain with little effect. The lanohtar couldn’t seem to dodge or block the supersonic bullets, but it also didn’t seem to be getting hurt much by them. It spun back to face Aranos, but before it could attack, a wooden shaft slammed into its chest, knocking it back a step. Saphielle followed up her strike with a Shield Bash, but the lanohtar raised the haft of its halberd and blocked the Avenger’s blow. The pair strained as each pushed against the other, but a moment later, the lanohtar heaved and for the first time Aranos had ever seen, Saphielle was forced back.
The halberd sped toward the elven Avenger, but she slid the attack along her shield and thrust with her spear. The lanohtar dodged the strike agilely but staggered as Silma struck at its legs once more. Saphielle’s spear darted out, punching into its eyehole, but the creature ignored the dreadful wound and slashed at Saphielle. The Warrior barely managed to slide the attack on her shield and thrust again with her spear, punching through its breastplate where its heart should be. The attack had no more effect than the last, though, and once more the Avenger was forced to parry as the lanohtar renewed its assault on her.
Aranos began to call up an Energy Barrage but halted. They’d inflicted heavy damage on the undead knight, but it was still battling as if none of its wounds bothered it. Aranos’ bullets alone should have done well over a thousand LP damage, especially with them all being head shots. Either the lanohtar had a massive LP pool – or there was something special about it that kept it from dying.
Aranos released his Spell and instead reached out with his Sense Mana Skill, probing the lanohtar and seeking the pool of vital energy that sustained it. To his shock, there was no fount of power filling the creature; it was utterly barren of vital mana. That’s impossible, Aranos protested mentally. Even undead have vital mana! Every creature on Ka does…
Aranos paused and examined the creature once more as it continued its deadly dance with Saphielle and Silma. The pair were holding the knight at bay, but only barely, and Aranos knew that wouldn’t last forever. The two, living combatants would eventually tire and weaken; the undead would not. At least, assuming it’s undead.
As far as Aranos knew, he was right: every creature on Ka had a pool of vital energy that sustained it. However, that wasn’t the only type of energy that could sustain a creature, at least not according to what he’d read about life spirits. Unlike mortal or once-mortal beings, life sprites didn’t have vital mana; they were sustained entirely by a combination of life and spirit mana that kept them bound to this world but able to draw power from whatever realm they’d originated. He assumed that the same could be true for other creatures – maybe even some sort of necrotic spirit.
There it was. Aranos could sense the weave of necrotic and spirit mana suffusing the undead knight. That’s why we can’t kill it; it’s not really alive. It’s just a spirit of some sort inhabiting a mana construct. LP damage won’t affect it at all.
Aranos mentally took hold of the lanohtar’s spirit core. His first instinct was to pour restorative mana into it, degrading the necrotic mana in the core, but he didn’t think that would be enough to kill the creature. It would weaken it, certainly, but not kill it. Killing it meant nullifying the spirit mana inside it. The thing was, Aranos wasn’t sure how he could nullify spirit mana. The only way he knew to nullify mana was to add void energy to it, and he’d never done that with spirit mana before. For all he knew, he might accidentally summon some sort of void spirit if he tried. Fighting another monstrous spirit is the last thing I need right now…
Suddenly, his party screen flashed; Meridian’s LP bar had jumped to zero in an instant. A moment later, Rhys’ dropped below 25%, and an unconscious icon appeared on his picture. I don’t have time to figure this out, Aranos thought desperately. I need to take this thing down, now!
Heedless of the danger, he grabbed void mana and wove a lattice of it, creating a spiral that led down into the spirit core of the undead knight. The knight stiffened as if it felt the touch of the alien mana on its core and spun towards Aranos, its halberd raised menacingly, but Saphielle crashed into its side and knocked it backward.
“You are battling me, lanohtar!” she snarled, thrusting with her spear. “I do not need his help to send you to eternal rest!” The lanohtar roared at Saphielle’s taunt and sped toward her. The Avenger abandoned any pretense of attack and focused on her defense, barely managing to ward off the creature’s blows.
Aranos forced himself to ignore the battle and finished building his lattice. When it was complete, he poured spirit mana into it, converting his SP to match his guess of how much energy was stored inside the undead’s core. The spirit mana swirled down the spiral, compressing more and more into the void mana as it did, spinning so tightly that it almost seemed to drill into the creature’s core.
The lanohtar froze, its halberd held overhead, and slowly, almost painfully turned to gaze at Aranos. The Sorcerer’s construct began to collapse, falling inward, rushing down into the core of the necrotic spirit inhabiting the blackened armor. The creature tried to take a shaky step toward Aranos, but the shaft of Saphielle’s spear smashed down on its hands. The knight howled as the halberd dropped from its weakened grip and clattered to the floor.
Aranos could feel the creature’s core unraveling as the spirit energy was drawn from the necrotic mass containing it. The mixture of void and spirit he’d poured into it seeped into the tangle of energies, nullifying the spirit mana and leaving gaps in the construct – gaps that more spirit mana leaped to fill before being negated as well. Energy was pulled from its body into its center and sucked out of it, leaving nothing but a necrotic shell behind.
Bereft of the energy empowering it, the armored figure began to crumble. Its gauntlets and vambraces shivered into fine powder, leaving it armless below the elbow. Its boot-like sabatons gave way with a squeal of tortured metal, sending it crumpling to the floor. Its armor continued to collapse as the energy within almost gleefully merged with the void construct Aranos had woven, crumpling into metallic flakes and rusty powder before their eyes until nothing but the helmet was left. The glowing green eyes within the helmet guttered, dimmed, and winked out, and the last piece of armor fell to dust.
Zoridos comes for you! Geltheriel’s voice rang out in Aranos’ mind just as an explosion of wind, fire, and dust rocked the underground chamber. Aranos was flung backward by the explosion but caught himself with his Massless Flight Spell, hovering halfway between the center of the room and the wall. Silma slid back a few feet before digging her nails into the stone to catch herself, ducking her head against the blast of grit and air. Saphielle simply raised her shield and endured the explosion stoically.
When the smoke and dust cleared, the skeletal form of Zoridos stood before them, its back to the pillar in the center of the room. Its crown gleamed dully on its head, and an eldritch wind stirred its tattered, faded garments. Green fire swirled around it, all except for the blasted stub of its missing hand.
“Sorcerer!” it shrieked, and a wave of fire swept across the room, rolling harmlessly over Silma. When it neared Saphielle and Aranos, it met a bubble of resistance and roiled against it ineffectually; Aranos’ charms were working. As he’d suspected, Zoridos was hoarding its power, using only its own native casting abilities against them. And, if Aranos was correct, those weren’t that significant.
“How dare you!” Zoridos continued, holding out its intact hand. Arcs of black lightning raced at the Sorcerer but slammed into the Greater Mage Shield he raised, guttering out while shattering the shield. It might not be a talented caster, but it’s still got way more power than I do. I need to get it to use some of that up – without killing all of us, of course.
“You challenge the rightful king of Antas! I ruled here before the Feast, and I will continue to rule long after you and your companions have withered to dust as my slaves!” Balls of ebony fire roared from the caster’s
hands, and Aranos quickly weaved a barrier of light-infused water using his Forge Mana Spell. The flaming balls struck the barrier with an explosion of steam and bursts of gray light, tearing it to pieces but annihilating on contact with their opposite mana types.
“You’re lying, Zoridos,” Aranos called back. “You weren’t king, here. You weren’t even a very powerful Wizard, were you? How did you convince the real rulers to let you bond to the Tree-heart?”
Zoridos froze, its hand outstretched, green firing curling around its digits. “You’re perceptive, Sorcerer,” it almost purred. “You’re correct; I didn’t rule here. I was no one of great importance, simply a caretaker for the Tree-heart, one of many. When the Feast came, though, I saw my chance: the Heart had been weakened by the assaults of the Nightmare Creatures, and the Elder’s bond to it was vulnerable. I merely co-opted the bond, took it to myself, bound it to a necrotic core given to me by the Darkbringer herself!”
Spears of black ice leaped from the qualintar’s hand, but Aranos consumed them with a wall of white-hot flames. The explosion of steam blinded him for a moment, but he called air mana with his High Mastery and swirled it from his eyes.
“How did you know how to do that?” Aranos asked dubiously. “I mean, I can tell that you weren’t much of a Wizard. It would have taken a ton of power and knowledge…”
“I had the knowledge,” Zoridos hissed, sending a wave of green fire roaring toward Aranos once more. The Sorcerer wrapped a Death’s Ward about himself, holding it tightly, and the flames rolled past him, ripping his Ward to shreds but leaving him unharmed. It’s all I can do to protect myself, he thought desperately. I need it to get angry enough to use that Spell from before.
“Knowledge? You?” Aranos scoffed, shaking his head and deliberately putting on a contemptuous expression. “I doubt it.”
“Oh, but I did. Knowledge has always come easily to me, Sorcerer, and before this, the Library’s doors opened for me at will. There is endless knowledge there, more than I could learn in a lifetime, in a thousand lifetimes!
“You’re correct; the power needed to do what I did was far beyond what I could muster. I was trapped in a pathetic, human body, then, unable to draw enough power to cast the mighty Spells my teachers hurled with abandon.” The qualintar’s eyes flared bright green of a moment. “They mocked me; oh, how they mocked me. Never aloud, but I could read it in their eyes. No discipline, they said. Not enough Wisdom. They thought I would amount to nothing; they were wrong!”
As it spoke, it sent another wave of flames, these ebon-black, rolling outward. Most of the fire belched harmlessly against the ceiling, though, and the rest was too diffuse to harm the party members. It’s losing its focus, Aranos thought with satisfaction.
“I’d say they were right. I’m guessing you tricked the Elder into giving you the bond somehow. There’s no way you had the power to do it yourself.” Aranos’ words were carefully chosen; he wanted the creature to be angry enough to strike at him, but not so angry it lashed out at all of them.
“Lies!” the undead screamed, sending more arcs of black lightning slamming into the Mage Shield Aranos quickly raised. A few of the bolts pierced the shield this time, though, dancing across his Arcane Armor and sending surges of icy cold racing through him. Fortunately, his armor held off the damage from the attack, and his Fortitude Skill resisted whatever debuff the bolts should have given him.
“I gained the power myself. It was a ritual, you see,” the qualintar almost purred. “One very much like the one I taught the foolish Summoner, although far more powerful.” The creature chuckled dryly. “I suppose there was treachery involved, for the ritual needed souls, the purer the better. So, when the Nightmare Creatures came, I volunteered to guard the children, to take them from the city through the tunnel to safety.”
Aranos felt a chill race up his spine as the undead continued. “I was too weak to help defend the city, of course, but I made an excellent nursemaid. That’s what they thought of me, you see. Oh, they didn’t say it, but it was clear. I was useful only as a caretaker, nothing more.
“I brought the children here, instead of the tunnel. I told them they’d be safe, be cared for. I gathered them around the Tree-heart, to gaze on its glory.
“And then – I slew them.” The qualintar sent a volley of fiery globes racing at Aranos, but in his sudden fury, the Sorcerer raised a shield of glowing ice. The fire smashed into the shield, burned into it – and winked out. The shield held.
“I took their souls, you see. They were the power I needed to wrest control of the Tree-heart and bind it to myself. Their souls formed the link, tied me to the Heart forever, gave me all the power I could ever want or use.
“Or so I thought, until the Elders returned with fire and fury. They burned me to ashes, blasted me into nothing…but I was reborn.” The dead thing chuckled again. “Oh, the look on their faces when I rose again. They didn’t understand, but I taught them. I took their souls, too, and their power, and with each death, I became more.
“The city turned against me, but it was no matter. I slew them all; every Guard, every Priest, every Wizard fell by my hand. They killed me many times, but each time I returned. They didn’t. When the died, they joined me, became more fuel for my power. The wiser among them joined me willingly, became the blackguards of my personal guard, and all others fell before us!
“Armies marched against me, but I had learned to raise the fallen, to turn my enemies into my slaves. The barrier that protected the city was filled with my hate and shattered my enemies; the very air around them sapped their strength and added it to mine. As they fell, they became mine, as well. Just as you will, little Sorcerer, for I am invulnerable, indestructible, unbeatable! I am Zoridos the Eternal! Nothing is beyond my power!”
Aranos felt sick to his stomach as he listened to the qualintar and realized that he’d completely underestimated how horrific the creature was. Aranos had guessed that the undead spellcaster had somehow used the Tree-heart to turn the city’s inhabitants into undead, but it had never occurred to him that it might have stolen all of those beings’ souls to fuel his powers. It was as if Zoridos had turned the entire Tree-heart into a massive soul stone, just like the kind Aranos’ Soulbinding instructor had shown him a week or so ago. No wonder he’s careful not to draw too much power from the Heart, Aranos realized. He’s probably afraid if it’s weakened too much, the souls might escape.
“Nothing’s beyond your power?” Aranos said unthinkingly, his brain still trying to wrap itself around the thought of all that death, all those trapped souls – all those kids, sacrificed to this creature’s lust for power and respect. “Can you clap?”
Zoridos hissed, and the Sorcerer heard Silma’s urgent warning in his mind, but Aranos forced himself to laugh. “I can. It takes two hands, though, and it looks like you’re missing one. How’d that happen, again? Oh, yeah, I burned it off and it hasn’t grown back.
“You know, I lost a hand once, too,” Aranos continued, pouring power into his armor and weaving the start of his shield as he did. “Mine came back. All this time, and you’re still just second-best, I guess.”
Green flames erupted around the undead Wizard, roaring in a pillar four feet wide that licked against the ceiling. “I will burn you, Sorcerer!” Zoridos screamed, holding up its remaining hand. “Let’s see you come back from this!”
A torrent of emerald fire roared toward Aranos, a massive wave of flame that dwarfed the creature’s previous attacks. Aranos slammed his new Mage Shield into place, dumping power into it, Overchanneling it desperately. Might have overdone it, there, he thought with a touch of panic as the fire slammed into his shield. The construct shuddered as the huge gout of flame roared across it, and Aranos could feel the cracks starting to form in it. He gritted his teeth and put more SP into the shield, trying frantically to fill the holes, but he could feel that it was too late. The cracks were widening; the shield was flexing beneath the assault.
Aranos had gr
avely underestimated the power of the qualintar’s unbridled rage. There was far too much fire for his armor or his Death’s Ward to shed. When the shield fell – he was going to die.
He felt the last shudders of his Mage Shield as it burst beneath the qualintar’s onslaught as if it was in slow motion. His careful plan had failed, because he’d made a mistake. It was a small mistake, a minor error of calculation, but mistakes had consequences, and the whole party was about to suffer for this one. Once Aranos was dead, Zoridos would go back to the throne room and finish off the rest of the players. Without Aranos’ magical support, it wouldn’t even be hard for the undead Wizard. The Lord Sorcerer closed his eyes and braced himself for respawn.
A flash of silver lit his vision, even through his closed lids, and Aranos’ eyes snapped open to see Saphielle, blazing with silver fire, standing between him and the qualintar. Her shield surged with flames, pushing back the massive torrent, and her head was tucked down, her shoulder set. Her helmet had fallen off at some point, and her blue hair swirled in the winds created by the clash of necrotic and restorative fires. Aranos stared at her with awe; she was magnificent, beautiful, a figure of power, standing against the mighty flood of Zoridos’ fury.
As she glanced back at him, though, Aranos saw the strain in her face, and the deep sadness in her eyes. “Finish this, my love,” she called, her voice barely audible over the roar of the twin flames. Aranos opened his mouth to speak, but his voice caught in his throat as the green fire surged past her shield, engulfed her flames, and roared down upon her, burying her in its grip. One last burst of fire erupted from her, tearing through the flames, and everything was still.
Everything except the crash of metal as Saphielle tumbled to the floor, burned almost beyond recognition.
Chapter 20
Aranos stared at the fallen Warrior for a moment before rushing to her side, falling to his knees and cradling her head, only barely aware that Silma had leaped to engage the faltering Zoridos. The Bright Avenger’s blue hair was gone, burned away, and her smooth, pale skin was blistered and peeled, charred black in places. Her armor had been scorched, the runes blackened and scarred by the enormous forces that descended upon her. Her shield had warped and cracked; only her faymetal spear still lay on the ground, utterly pristine.
