Lord Sorcerer: Singularity Online: Book 3

by Kyle Johnson

  “It’s okay, Saphielle,” Aranos muttered. “It’s okay. I’ve got bandages, medicine. I can heal you…”

  The woman’s gauntleted hand rose jerkily up to touch his face. “No, my love,” she whispered, her clear voice hoarse and liquid. “I go to meet my sister, at last. Our split souls will become one.”

  “No,” he snapped. “I can fix this, I can…” He looked at the shattered woman, and tears erupted from his eyes. “Why? I would have come back. Why?”

  “Only you can finish this,” she whispered back. “And I made a promise: no harm would befall you while yet I lived. Thank you, my love. Thank you for…” Her voice stilled and her hand dropped from his cheek. In his part sheet, her LP bar dropped to zero, and her picture went gray as her last breath shuddered from her chest.

  Aranos’ heart dropped. The world went still for a moment, as if everything in Ka had stopped to take a breath.

  Saphielle was dead.

  Zoridos was speaking, but Aranos couldn’t hear the creature’s words. Silma’s voice spoke urgently in his mind, but nothing she said made any sense. Even Geltheriel seemed to be shouting at him, but none of that mattered to Aranos.

  Saphielle was dead.

  That fact had become his world. The beautiful, blue-haired Warrior had died. She wouldn’t respawn, she wouldn’t be coming back. She was simply gone. She was gone, and there had been nothing he could do to stop it. All the power he’d gathered to himself, all the Spells he’d created, all the training he’d done, and in the end, he’d been utterly powerless.

  Saphielle was dead, and he’d never told her he loved her.

  You’re the only one who can finish this, my love.

  The words cut through the fog in his mind, echoing as clearly as if he’d heard her speak them one last time.

  Yeah. I’m going to finish this.

  Power raged through him, demanding to be let loose, but he held it in. Saphielle hadn’t died for him to be a fool again. She’d given him a chance to end this, and he would, but he would only get one chance. He refused to waste it. He glanced down at the pristine, unbroken faymetal spear, and his eyes cast about for the ugly, black halberd the necrotic spirit had dropped.

  It was so clear in his mind. He could end this, right now. He could, but not as he was. He needed to be – more.

  He reached into his pack and calmly took the Periapt of the Martyr from his pocket, placing it around his neck with utmost care and returning Sumeilain to his pack. He understood, now, why an amulet like this had been created. Sometimes, something was so important that you had to give everything over to it. Some things just needed to be done, no matter the cost. Saphielle had understood that, and now he did, too.

  Her last lesson to him. Her last gift to him.

  He touched the necklace, willing its power to activate, and instantly, energy raced through his body. Fire raged in his veins; every cell danced with power. He was indomitable, invincible – he could do anything he wanted! With this much power, he could…

  His eyes fell on Saphielle’s still body. No. You can’t do anything you want. You’ve got a job to do with this, nothing more. He took off the ring that linked him to Geltheriel, cutting off her voice instantly. He needed to do this alone, and he didn’t want any of it spilling over to his Follower.

  He activated his Massless Flight Spell and his Gust of Speed. Zoridos was still talking, but the creature hadn’t cast a Spell since Saphielle fell, despite Silma’s desperate attacks on it. Aranos knew why; it was spent. It had just enough energy left to keep its bond to the Tree-heart, and it couldn’t spare anything more. Saphielle had done it; she’d given him this chance. Now, he just had to take it.

  The room blurred and his pack was torn from his shoulders as he launched himself forward with a cry. What kind of cry, he didn’t know; it was rage and terror, sorrow and joy, hatred and love, all erupting from him at once. His right hand snatched up the spear, while his mind reached out a tendril of telekinetic mana and grasped the halberd, bringing it swiftly to his hand. With his enhanced Perception, he could see the startlement on Zoridos’ face as he soared forward, could read the surprise in its undead eyes. The spear was warm in his hand, but the halberd was colder than ice. Auril, his brain told him calmly. It’s designed to drain mana.

  Perfect.

  The twin blades darted forward as Aranos raced at Zoridos. He thrust with both hands; his blows should have been awkward, but in the grip of the Periapt’s power, of his own icy rage, his aim was perfect. The spear slid past whatever defenses the qualintar raised with ease as it punched through the undead’s cold, lifeless heart, while the halberd drove low and slammed through its gut. Zoridos was driven back, pierced by the pair of blades, and slammed into the wooden pillar in the center of the room. It hung there, impaled, unable to draw power to cast a Spell, but Aranos saw a look of disbelief cross its undead face.

  “Is this your vengeance?” the creature cackled. “I told you, Sorcerer, I am invulnerable and immortal! Pierce me a thousand times, and I will…”

  Aranos voice rolled through the room, humming with power as he spoke. “I wasn’t aiming for you, Zoridos,” he said calmly, inclining his head toward the true reason he’d come here in the first place.

  The spear and halberd were both solidly buried in the center of the Tree-heart, and Aranos’ hands were on their hafts. The qualintar screamed as it realized its mistake. Its bony claw of a hand darted at Aranos’ throat, trying, perhaps to silence the Sorcerer before he could do what he had to.

  It didn’t matter. The thing was nowhere near as fast as Aranos’ will, his need, or his passion. It never stood a chance.

  Golden fire slammed out of Aranos, tearing into Zoridos. The undead screamed in agony as Aranos’ Needful Reclamation burst forth, but the qualintar wasn’t the object of the Spell. Aranos released just enough power to reduce the creature’s remaining claw to dust, to crack its bones, to sear what little flesh remained to it.

  He wanted it to suffer. He needed it to know pain and terror before it died.

  The flames around him darkened as his thirst for vengeance drove them toward the qualintar. He would tear it limb from limb, he would make it suffer, he would burn it – like it had burned Saphielle.

  And would she thank you for that, pack leader? Silma’s voice broke calmly through the haze of his rage.

  Finish this, my love.

  Aranos stopped, stunned, as he heard those words with perfect clarity coming from the Tree-heart. Saphielle called him Redeemer; that had been how she’d seen him. He healed the world’s hurts; he restored the Light. He was a bringer of life, not vengeance.

  If you do this, what will her death mean?

  With a sob of fury, Aranos withdrew the fire that licked around Zoridos, ignoring the cowering undead’s sobs of relief. He channeled that fire into the spear, poured it into the Tree-heart. At the same time, he pulled on the halberd, drawing the foul, necrotic energy from within the Heart, purging it of its Corruption.

  It wasn’t going to be enough.

  Aranos had known that, already. He hadn’t used the Periapt of the Martyr to hurt Zoridos. He’d used it because he knew that to heal the Heart, he’d have to give everything he had. He reached down into himself, down into the core of his being, where all of his energies met. There, in the very center of all that he was, he gathered every ounce of energy he could. He pulled from everything that was in him – his desire, his hatred, his will, his weakness. His love. He drew on the Strength of his body and the strength of his mind. He gathered all of that and more into his center, held it for a moment.

  It was more power than he’d ever seen. With power like this, he could obliterate Zoridos, even as empowered as the qualintar was. He could shatter Lily, tear down the walls of Cendarta, storm the Bottomless Pit itself.

  Or he could honor Saphielle. Finish this, my love.

  He drove the power through him, through the spear, into the Tree-heart, and his mind followed behind it. He could Redeem
the Tree-heart, now, of that he was certain, but that would only leave the job half-finished. She was counting on him, and he wouldn’t let her down.

  The Tree-heart was filled with souls, as he’d feared. Thousands, tens of thousands of souls screamed in agony and madness, all beckoning for release from their torment. It’s no wonder Zoridos was insane, Aranos realized as the cacophony washed over him. When you’re connected to a soul stone, you can feel the agony of the soul inside it. If it was feeling this all the time, every second for hundreds of years, it’s amazing that it could even speak.

  There were simply too many souls. Aranos had never even tried to mend more than a single soul at once; now he was going to try to heal thousands of them? It would break him, might even destroy his Ability to do this again.

  And if that was the price, he’d pay it, because Saphielle had died at Zoridos’ hands. That meant that her soul was in here, too. He would never leave her to this torment, no matter what it did to him.

  He would finish this.

  He gathered the power within him, channeled it through his body, and radiated it out into the vast cacophony of souls. He comforted their pain, he calmed their fears, he healed their torments. The energy rushing through him sustained him as his thoughts spread out, accepting their hurts, taking in their sorrows, delving into their madness. Images of rage, hatred, and vengeance burned through his mind, but he responded with comfort, acceptance, and love.

  It was the last that finally drew her to him.

  He knew her at once; he would have known her had there been a million souls, a billion. Saphielle was unique, both flawed and perfect in her own way. Despite her fears, her soul was whole, complete; she was her own person, not a dark mirror to her twin. There, in that place between worlds, that time between moments, he held her one last time, let his love for her pour through her, and from her, into the entire Tree-heart. It radiated out into the city, a golden wave of power that seared clean the Corruption and burned away the filth of undeath. The enslaved minions of a forgotten caretaker burned to ashes in that light, their souls finally freed of their endless prison.

  He wanted to hold her forever, but he knew that wasn’t to be. He embraced her as long as he could before letting her go, watching through tears of golden fire as her soul streamed away in a haze of blue radiance. Maybe, at last, she’d get to see the gods she’d doubted, to confront them and demand her answers.

  Aranos smiled. He’d love to see that.

  As the fire within him dimmed, he felt himself slipping from the Tree-heart. His thoughts raced back down the spear and slammed into his body, sending him to his knees as agony washed through him. His veins burned with fire, flames poured from his eyes and ears. He’d never channeled that much power before, and doing it had ravaged his body. A host of debuffs swam in his eyes, but he was having trouble focusing on them – really, he was having trouble focusing on anything. The entire world was a blur, muffled and gray as if all sound and color had been washed out. He tried to stand, but his muscles were simply too weak; even the effort to raise his head and look around was almost beyond him.

  He fell to the ground, and pain raged through his body as he rolled laboriously onto his back. He was having trouble focusing, but he took a deep, shuddering breath – it was a strain to even breathe, for God’s sake! – and forced his mind to work.

  A moment later, he realized what was happening. He’d used the Periapt, and now it wanted its due. His Stats were probably down to one or two, naturally, but his Enchanted items should have pushed him back up to vanilla human levels. He glanced down at his hand, searching for the Magus Armband that would boost his Stats by eight points. His arm was blurry, and he struggled to lift it high enough to see, but in a moment it was clear. His armband was gone.

  That is not all that is gone, pack leader, Silma’s voice rang in his head, clear despite his apparently reduced Perception. Every ring on your hands burst into flame as you cast your Spell. Even your clothing is no more, except your undergarments.

  Aranos blinked in surprise at the fenrin’s words; first, that he’d understood them despite his heavily debuffed Intelligence, and second, that he’d lost every Enchanted item he’d worn. Well, not all of them, he corrected, struggling to crawl toward the brown blob that he suspected was his pack. Suddenly, a white, larger blob appeared, grabbing the pack and bringing it over to him.

  You could have just asked, you know, the fenrin thought with exasperation. Aranos wanted to smile at her, but he couldn’t. There just wasn’t enough happiness left in him for that, right now. Instead, he drew Sumeilain out and put it on with trembling fingers. It took him a full minute to clasp it; his hands simply refused to follow his directions. Finally, the haft snapped closed, and Aranos sighed in relief as the 25-point boost to his Stats brought him up to a tolerable level. His vision cleared, his hearing sharpened, and his muscles stopped trembling as he rose to his feet.

  Silma suddenly moved to stand beside him, a growl rumbling in her throat. A moment later, a slow, clapping sound echoed through the room. Aranos tensed as he saw Lily step out of one of the tunnels. The Summoner looked much the worse for wear, almost as bad as Aranos assumed he did – although she was still fully clothed, at least. Her hair was scorched and burned, her skin was blistered and blackened, and her movements looked slow and painful, even to Aranos’ vastly reduced Perception.

  “Well done, Aranos,” the woman said, her voice harsh and gravelly. “I’m honestly fucking impressed. You tricked me, didn’t you?”

  “What do you mean, Lily?” Aranos asked tiredly, not really wanting to deal with the Summoner right now but not sure what he could do about it. His max SP had been crippled, and even if he could cast a Spell or two at her right now, it wouldn’t have enough oomph behind it to do more than annoy the woman. He supposed being polite was his best option – that, and slipping his last Enchanted piece of jewelry on his finger.

  “I knew you’d figured out that I was messing around in your friends’ dreams – I mean, I pretty much told you I was because there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it – but I had no idea you’d lie to them to make me think you were going to attack the throne room. I have to say, that’s the kind of deviousness I’d expect from, well – me, I suppose.”

  “I didn’t lie to them,” Aranos sighed. “I told them what you were doing and that I wouldn’t be telling them the whole truth. All you would have heard was that we’d be assaulting Zoridos from two fronts at once. You just assumed both of those would be the Treehome.”

  Lily stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “You know what? You’re right, I did assume that. That was fucking clever!”

  “Thanks,” Aranos muttered. “Is there something I can do for you? I’m not really in much of a chatting mood right now.”

  “Yeah, I saw that the blue-haired girl didn’t make it. Sorry about that, but they’re just NPCs. It’s not like they matter, right?”

  “She matters to me,” Aranos said softly.

  “Oh,” Lily said, her eyes widening. “It’s like that, is it? You dog! Tapping an NPC? That’s kinky!”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” he shook his head. “In fact, I’m guessing you’re not even capable of understanding, so there’s no point in explaining. Like I said, is there something I can help you with?”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed, and he could sense her anger rising, but she seemed to put it aside with a casual shrug. “Normally, I don’t like being told I can’t understand things,” she said flatly. “But you just did me a huge favor, so I’m going to let that slide. See, when you killed Zoridos, you also freed his hold over me – and, incidentally, took out every undead in the city. Talk about XP out the ass, right?”

  “I’m glad I could help you,” Aranos smiled, sending a quick burst of his slowly returning SP into the ring on his finger. Fortunately, he’d planned ahead, and a little was all that was needed. “What are you going to do with your new freedom?”

  “
Well, I was thinking about killing you, but that feels…ungrateful, I guess. So, I think I’m going to spare you, but I’m going to need you to get the hell out of my city.”

  “Your city?” Aranos laughed. “You think that after all that, I’m just going to give this place to you?”

  “I don’t think you have much choice,” the woman growled, taking a step toward him. “You look like shit, Aranos. You obviously spent yourself taking out Zoridos. You’re running on fumes. So, how are you going to stop me from taking the Tree-heart myself?”

  “You’re right, Lily. I’m pretty much out of juice. I can’t stop you. Good thing, I suppose, that they can.” Aranos gestured, and Lily spun quickly to see the remainder of Aranos party step through a hole in space, beyond which led to a now-pristine, fully restored throne room. The party looked battered, tired, and beaten, but except for Meridian, they were all there. Aranos frowned as he realized that Rhys was bound, gagged, and blindfolded. What the hell happened?

  “Is there a problem here?” Phil asked lazily, touching the hilt of his sword. As he did, a dim, white glow rose from his hand, touching the battered undead Summoner, who hissed and drew back as the smell of scorched meat rose from her flesh. Well, that’s interesting, Aranos thought. Kind of looks like something a Paladin could do. Go Phil!

  “How did you all survive?” Lily rasped. “Never mind; it doesn’t fucking matter. You all look half-dead; you really want to face all of my summons right now?”

  “You don’t look so great yourself, Lily,” Aranos chuckled. “In fact, you kind of look like a huge wave of restorative mana tore you up inside and out. I’ll bet your Stats aren’t much higher than mine right now. But hey, if I’m wrong, go ahead and summon what you’ve got.” His eyes narrowed. “I’d rather go out fighting than give anything to you.”