Hunters of Arkhart- Battle Mage

by Vic Connor

  The demon’s anger seems profound. It swings its own staff around, lashing a dizzying flurry of dark, magical bolts at Aremos. Though he manages to fend off most of them, a couple blast through his shielding and push him backward, scalding him deep within, as though they are wounding his very soul itself.

  Next, the demon slashes its sword through the air, bringing it down hard on Aremos. Lifting the Staff of Adamant, Aremos fills it with his own magic, depleting his reserves. He catches the obsidian blade, but the demon’s strength forces him down to one knee. As the demon strikes, however, three shadow blades mirror his own attacks and rain down on Aremos, in and around the tangible world, cutting through his spirit and wounding him significantly.

  But no matter, he thinks. Aremos has the upper hand, though the demon may not know it, and he readies his response.

  Compared to the beasts I have faced, the beasts I have overcome and the trials through which I have passed, this demon seems a mere plaything, he reminds himself. He thrusts the Staff of Adamant forward as the demon raises its blade for another strike. The demon falls back as Aremos hits it full in the chest with a bolt of pure, azure energy. Aremos stands and thrusts the butt of his staff into the cavern’s floor as he points his sword at the stumbling demon, unleashing a barrage of lightning which lashes at its flesh, blistering it and reducing its HP by five percent. As he grinds his staff into the ground, the very rock itself bucks and splits, throwing the demon aside even as it crackles with the last vestiges of the Lightning Storm. As it falls, Aremos reaches out his sword once more. Searing white flame courses through him, leaping from his sword tip into the demon.

  “No!” the demon screams, holding up its own sword. The obsidian blade catches most of the fire, but some lashes out at its arm and torso. The nimbus of power has died as the demon’s magic bar has decreased. Its HP has fallen substantially under Aremos’ attacks. Aremos is still at half health and he has enough power to finish the demon.

  Pouring a little more energy into his flame, he sets up a series of combos. As the demon puts his staff forward to catch the increased burning surge, Aremos releases his next salvo of attacks, allowing several combos to go off concurrently.

  First, he mutters the spell for Time Warp. He’d normally never be able to get it off against such an opponent as this, but it’s so weakened and distracted that it comes easily, granting him fifteen seconds of freedom in which to finish the attack. The fire freezes, crackling in mid-air as time stands still. Aremos feels drained from casting, but he isn’t finished yet. In quick succession, he encloses the demon in a wall of white light, burning its skin to smoke, before throwing a few more direct fireballs into its torso and chest, robbing it of almost all of its HP. He then surrounds his new sword in a halo of crackling white magic and runs toward the demon, slashing at it while, with the Staff of Adamant, he throws concussive waves of power into its body, rippling through it and shattering its bones from the inside out.

  It’s down to seven percent HP when the Time Warp finishes and the creature flies backward, away from Aremos, as his spells catch up with it in real time. The waves batter it and its skin sloughs off in long tendrils of burning ichor. It falls in a heap, near death and powerless.

  “You will never win against the power of darkness,” it whispers as Aremos approaches it, readying his final blow. It faces him, its eyes filled with hatred, as it spits out its final words. “The darkness can only be held at bay for so long. It can never be beaten.”

  “I embrace my darkness,” Aremos tells it. He half-recalls the last words of the Osirion—something about self-awareness and freedom—and pauses briefly, almost expecting this demon to speak of the same. But no such words come. “And I banish you.”

  He thrusts the Staff of Adamant forward with one last push and the demon dissolves, leaving behind nothing more than a pile of ash.

  Meredith slowly regains consciousness. She lies completely still, and the world stays dark around her. She can remember so little of what has passed. She was at home, at her father’s tower, when … she gasps, the memories beginning to come together. Flying beasts had rained down from the heavens while the sea roiled all around them, and the demon strode toward the tower, flinging its dark fire all about it as it walked. The ground shook beneath its feet and it defiled and cast away the white magic that usually surrounded the island, leaving nothing but the creature’s filth, the black magic of its own kin.

  It threw fire at the tower, breaking through all of its defenses. It smote the walls with its sword and staff, tearing it down as it chanted dark litanies, banishing her father’s wards of protection. Finally, the demon pulled it apart, wreathing itself in dark fire and spitting ancient curses, and the whole lot began to blaze. The demon reached out with its mind and with its power and compelled her to come with it. She resisted, fighting it as she had been taught, but the beast was far too strong. She didn’t last long, as fear won out and Meredith caved to the pull of the demon’s muttered words.

  Then, all became darkness and she fell into the demon’s embrace. It felt as though her very soul had been plucked from her body.

  Now, she awakens, and opens her eyes. Heat and the stench of magic overwhelms her, as if some great battle has been fought right here. Her wrists and ankles feel sore from being manacled, though she’s been freed from them, able to move about unimpeded. Looking around, she sees a great cavern, surrounded on all sides by a furnace of fire and brimstone. A bearded man in long, blue robes and sparkling Silverthread mail stands over her, holding forth a glass flask from which a strange, light blue smoke billows.

  “Hello, Meredith,” the man says. “I am Aremos the Great. I have been searching for you for a while: your father sent me. I first freed your soul,” he says, gesturing to the bottle. “And now, I have reunited it with your body. You are free—I will take you away from this place and bring you back to your father. Never again will the darkness touch your home. You have my word on this.”

  Somera logs out from her rig, a little dazed from logging in as Meredith and seeing Aremos from the outside for the first time. It felt a little like leaving her own body and seeing it walk about and talk, all on its own.

  “How was he even able to act,” she whispers, “without me guiding him?”

  TO BE CONTINUED

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  Vic.