The Old Man’s grizzled lips curled into a grin. “I have not shown him anything. As you so kindly pointed out, my hands are bound. His connection with the dark is strong. Jason is summoning the visions on his own.”
“Ahh, so this is why you want the grimoire!” the Keeper said, slamming his staff into the ground. “You plan to make him your new Keeper, don’t you?”
The Old Man stood steadfast, refusing to answer.
“Hmm, in death your cryptic silence lacks the same punch,” the Keeper commented sourly.
Then he turned back to Jason. “To answer your original question, yes. My son and I journeyed here to protect the grimoire. This temple was remote and presumably safe from the humans. At least, so we thought.”
“During my last vision, you were injured,” Jason said slowly, recalling the visions. “Noah blew the entrance to the temple and was helping you inside…”
The Keeper observed him carefully, “Perhaps our dark god was downplaying your connection to the dark. You shouldn’t be able to see those memories without undergoing the change.” He sighed in frustration, the bones of his jaw clacking together. “Yet you speak the truth. I had only a few hours left by that point. My mana was failing me, and the Dark One’s power was already fading.” He spat this last statement for the Old Man’s benefit, and Jason noticed that the god flinched imperceptibly.
“Is that why you turned to a forbidden rite,” the god demanded. “Is that why you sold your soul? For immortality?”
“I sold my soul to protect our people!” the Keeper roared at the Old Man, turning to face the god and his voice ringing through the deathscape. “I had little choice if I wished to protect the temple. The Hippie’s power was already weakened, even with the orb in residence. What other option did you leave me?”
“I don’t understand,” Jason interjected carefully. “What are you talking about?”
The Keeper shook his head, visibly trying to quiet his emotions. It took him a few seconds to regain control of himself. “I gave up my opportunity to be interned among the Kin. I ripped my own organs from my body to create those canopic jars,” he explained, pointing to the remaining urn and the other three ruined columns. “The ritual also requires a sacrifice. My son gave up his own life willingly…” he added in a tortured voice.
The Keeper bowed his head. “It felt like I was tearing my own soul to ribbons,” he whispered in a harsh tone. “I plunged my hand into the well, using the memories of our people to try to keep myself grounded even as I ripped away my very being. It was worth it. To protect the well. To protect the book. To protect what was left of our people,” he said in an anguished voice, glancing at the crude mana well near the throne.
“How could you do this?” the Keeper demanded, whirling on the Old Man. “How could you and your corrupted siblings be so cruel after everything we did for you?”
The Old Man looked away from the Keeper, staying silent.
“Do you not have any answer for me?” the Keeper screamed at him. “You stay silent even now? Even after everything I have sacrificed?”
“Your choices were your own,” the Old Man replied quietly. “As they have always been and always will be. Our hands are bound. You know this.”
“Excuses!” the Keeper roared, his eyes blazing with unholy energy. “You and your siblings deserved to be cast out, and I hope you are never able to return to this world. In fact, I will ensure that you don’t.”
With that statement, the Keeper turned to Jason, his eyes glowing with rage and brandishing his staff. He took a menacing step forward, and Jason retreated, frantically searching for his weapons. Yet he soon discovered that he was unarmed, and his skills were locked inside the deathscape.
“Perhaps we will fail,” the Old Man murmured. “Perhaps I will fail, but I cannot let you claim this one. At least, not so easily.”
“And what will you do to stop me?” the Keeper spat. “You, who sat on your own hands and watched your people burn. You watched them destroy everything that we had built…” The skeletal creature appeared so consumed by his rage that he forgot what he was about to say.
“Me? I will do nothing. However, I may give my avatar the opportunity to fight,” the Old Man said quietly. He stepped forward toward Jason. Before he could react, the Old Man grabbed his hand and placed it around his staff. Then the god stepped back, his form shimmering and blinking erratically.
“What are you doing?” Jason asked, glancing at the plain wooden staff in his hand.
“Giving you a chance, boy. That is all I have ever been able to give – an opportunity to be seized or squandered. You have weakened him already, now finish what you started.” With that last statement, the Old Man suddenly blinked out of existence.
“He really must be desperate to give you his staff,” the Keeper cackled, taking another step toward Jason. “The gods’ time is over. They should have remained banished. Yet it is no matter. You have not undergone the change, and you don’t understand what it is that you hold. You stand no chance against me!”
Jason could suddenly feel a tingling cold permeating his hand, and he glanced down at the staff. The icy sensation kept growing, turning into a frigid current that bordered on pain. As the sensation grew ever stronger, he tried to let go of the staff. Yet his fingers would no longer respond to his commands.
“Yes, that’s it. Give up,” the Keeper crooned as he noticed Jason’s hesitation, his voice cracking and shifting erratically once again. “With your death, we can help save our people. They are still there, swimming in the well, interned among the darkness.”
The cold was beginning to spread up Jason’s arm, the sensation so intense that it felt like fire was boiling through his veins. Slowly, the staff began to change. The wooden surface rippled and shifted, turning a dark obsidian and detailed, and bone-like scrollwork appeared along the base. At the top of the staff, an ethereal blade slowly slid from the wood, the translucent material growing more solid with each passing moment.
Bands of dark mana began to curl around the staff. They spiraled up the wood and wound around Jason’s wrist. The obsidian energy coiled around his body and along his skin, leaving a burning trail of coldness in its wake.
“What is this? What’s happening?” the Keeper cried, backing off slightly as he watched the staff’s transformation.
As the energy swam over Jason’s body, the bands of darkness suddenly condensed and pressed against his skin. While the tendrils of energy curled around his body, the staff channeled unfettered power through his arm. It felt like he was being flayed alive – inside and out. Jason let out a tortured scream of pain as the energy finally overwhelmed his sense.
The sensation seemed to last forever, agony overcoming him.
And then it was over.
Jason had fallen to the ground under the influence of the dark mana, his legs giving out. Yet now he felt no pain. He pulled himself to his feet with little effort. It felt like every part of his body had been infused with a wellspring of energy. He felt like he could run a marathon. Scale a mountain. Or kill a Keeper…
As this thought crossed his mind, Jason’s eyes rested on the skeletal mage, an expression akin to fear contorting the bones of his face. Before he could act, a prompt suddenly crashed into Jason’s vision.
System Notice
The Dark One may not be able to aid you directly, but he has given you his staff to assist you against the Keeper. By channeling the power of a god’s weapon, you have become an incarnation of dark mana for a limited time.
CAUTION: If your character perishes inside the deathscape, it will be permanently deleted. Exercise extreme care.
+ 500 Vitality
+ 500 Strength
+ 500 Dexterity
+ 500 Endurance
+ 500 Intelligence
+ 500 Wisdom
All spells in the dark magic school are now available.
All scythe fighting skills are now available.
All normal resource costs are
suspended.
Show this abomination the true power of the dark. Finish what the humans started, for the good of our people. – The Dark One
Jason slammed the butt of the Dark One’s scythe into the ground, cracks radiating out from the impact site. He could feel the incantations for dozens of spells swimming through his mind, and he understood instinctively that all of his casting abilities had been increased to max level. The movements and forms for scythe combat came to him in a rush, Jason reflexively corrected his grip on the god’s weapon.
As he processed all of this new information, Jason shifted his gaze to the Keeper once more, his eyes glowing with unholy energy as tattoos of dark mana peeled away from his skin. A grin curled his lips and he reveled in the power that flowed through his veins. The Keeper took a small step back, his mad eyes looking uncertain.
“Let’s do this,” Jason said in a grim voice.
He sprinted forward at a blazing pace. In an instant, he was standing before the Keeper, his scythe sweeping through the air. The undead creature barely blocked the blow, sparks of energy rocketing away from the impact as their weapons connected.
The Keeper shoved Jason away, his skeletal body moving with unnatural speed. He channeled his dark mana in a flash of power, bone spikes materializing from thin air and racing at Jason.
Acting instinctively, Jason called on the malignant energy that flowed through his veins to cast Bone Shield. With his heightened abilities, the spell no longer required specific equipment or a corpse. Ivory discs immediately appeared and blocked the Keeper’s missiles, the bones colliding in a shower of ivory fragments.
However, the undead creature had merely used the spikes as a distraction to cast another spell. Decaying hands erupted from the ground, the fingers of one hand curling around Jason’s ankle. He stumbled, suddenly off balance. The Keeper capitalized on this opportunity. Rushing forward, his scythe blade sunk into Jason’s shoulder.
Searing pain erupted from the wound, and his health bar flickered. The UI didn’t provide any feedback on damage or his remaining health, so he was flying completely blind. It wasn’t clear if he could take one more blow or a hundred…
“Damn it,” Jason hissed.
He pivoted, ripping the Keeper’s blade from his shoulder while slashing downward to dismember the hand clutching at his ankle. Instead of blood, motes of blue energy eeked from the wound in his shoulder, and he tried feebly to stem the flow with his free hand.
“You are still young and unpracticed with our craft,” the Keeper taunted, regaining his confidence. “In this place, my blows don’t harm your body, they cripple your soul!”
Jason’s eyes widened as he saw the Keeper preparing a new spell, this one painfully familiar. A miasma of energy was forming in front of the undead creature. Thinking quickly, Jason’s hands began moving through a series of gestures. The ball of mana continued to grow until it reached the size of a small car. Then the Keeper released another tidal wave of dark energy. The wall raced toward Jason, filling the length of the throne room and briefly obscuring the Keeper from sight.
A moment later, the wall began to dissipate, and Jason walked through the energy unscathed, tendrils of dark energy curling away from his body. He had quickly cast Custom Skeleton, materializing the bones from the deathscape. His body was now clad in plates of living bone armor. A helm adorned his head, and ivory horns spiraled into the air. Pauldrons rested on each of his shoulders – eyeless skulls staring into the darkness – and bones wound around his torso in imitation of a human ribcage.
The new bone armor blocked the dark energy effectively, resistant to the same element and allowing him to pass through the Miasma with minimal damage. The Keeper looked surprised by the sudden change in Jason’s appearance, but that surprise was short-lived. He raced forward, and the pair engaged in a rapid-fire series of blows.
Jason poured his strength into each attack, each strike causing the deathscape to warp and ripple as their weapons connected. Yet the Keeper was faster and stronger than he was, his scythe always one step ahead and his manic eyes taunting him.
What’s wrong with me? Jason thought frantically, barely keeping up with the creature’s attacks. Why can’t I compete, even with the god’s staff?
The Keeper spun to the side, his scythe coming in at an arc. Jason was unprepared for the sudden move, and he stumbled backward to avoid the attack, accidentally dropping his form. The Keeper lunged forward, and his blade sank into Jason’s thigh, penetrating his bone armor. Excruciating pain radiated outward from the injury. Jason wrenched free and tried to back away, blue energy leaking from the wounds in his shoulder and thigh.
The Keeper didn’t let him retreat. Following up on his attack, his blade slammed through one of Jason’s pauldrons before crashing into the side of his helm. Jason’s bone armor began to collapse, and fragments of ivory bone dropped away and disintegrated into the deathscape.
Jason backpedaled quickly, his chest heaving and dull pain radiating from his wounds. At this rate, he was going to lose. Why did this seem impossible – even with the power that was coursing through his veins and his newfound knowledge?
The Keeper echoed his thoughts. “To think the Old Man entrusted someone like you with his weapon. What a waste,” he spat, his voice wavering and uneven.
Had the old god made a mistake? Was Jason even fighting for the right side here? Had the Old Man really abandoned the Keeper and his son? His own people? Jason’s confidence wavered further, and the bands of dark mana hovering around him retreated. This was not lost on the Keeper, and the skeletal creature stepped forward, spinning his scythe slowly.
“That’s right,” the Keeper cooed, his eyes flaring with power. “Give up. It’s pointless to resist.”
He had failed his friends. He had watched as their bodies exploded under the effect of Noah’s runes, their blood raining down on the stone floor of the throne room. He had failed his aunt, leaving her homeless and at the mercy of Cerillion Entertainment. He had been kicked out of school. Abandoned by his parents. He had killed two teenagers…
Despair welled in Jason’s stomach, threatening to overwhelm him as the Keeper strode forward calmly, no longer concerned. His scythe hummed through the air as it spun in a slow arc.
Then Riley’s face appeared in his mind’s eye, covered in sweat and blood, but her eyes determined; fearless. He recalled Frank rushing a cleaver-wielding demon, knowing that he would die. Even Eliza had fought with everything she had – and she didn’t have any stake in this quest. He remembered his aunt’s kind words, despite the worries he knew she must secretly harbor.
What was he doing? Would he give up here? When everyone else kept fighting?
He had people that depended on him. He wouldn’t fail. Not here. Not like this.
His dark mana came flooding back in a torrent, raging through his body like an arctic storm. The power felt like it was tearing at him, making it difficult to think straight. Jason struggled to maintain control and bend that power to his will. Then a sudden realization struck him. He didn’t need to maintain control. That was the Keeper’s edge. He had given himself completely over to the dark – to his desires – going even so far as to tear out his own organs and sacrifice his son…
That’s the only way to compete, Jason thought desperately, watching the Keeper approaching as though in slow motion.
Jason finally let go. He gave up fighting his own desires. He gave himself over entirely to the darkness that welled inside him. His dark mana exploded out in a nova of energy that pushed the Keeper back. Raging fires of obsidian energy burned in his eyes and his bone armor rebuilt itself automatically, plates of bone bonding with his skin until he was robed entirely in the ivory substance, streamers of dark energy binding the material together.
At the same time, hulking skeletons began pulling themselves together from the darkness around him. Massive creatures, born of nightmares and desperation – of pleading and longing. Their bodies were misshapen, all claws, fan
gs, and spikes. Jason didn’t build these creatures, he summoned them from the darkness. They clawed their way into existence around Jason, their hulking limbs slamming into the ground and causing the deathscape to shudder.
The Keeper backed away quickly, his confidence shattered. “What is this?” he demanded. “What are you? You are just a boy! A human. This is impossible!”
The undead creature pulled at his mana, summoning yet another miasma in his desperation. The dark energy built and grew even as Jason’s minions lumbered forward toward him, encircling him in the darkness and their rigid limbs scraping against the stone floor of the throne room. Their black, soulless eyes stared at the Keeper, filled with judgment.
“Abomination,” they hissed.
“Betrayer.”
“No. You can’t stop me! I have a mission. I… we…. we must defend the book,” the Keeper screamed, pouring more and more energy into the ball of dark mana until it threatened to consume him.
Finally, the Keeper released. The dark energy expanded in a ring, and the throne room began to warp and melt under the pressure of the mana being channeled through the deathscape.
Jason’s creatures were ready. They opened their fanged maws wide and ate at the energy hungrily, the mana fueling their bodies and empowering their limbs. They roared in a frenzy as their hunger overcame any semblance of consciousness they may have once had.
And, among them, Jason strode forward, each step causing the deathscape to ripple and contract. The Keeper stood watching the scene unfold in numb shock. In a blink, Jason stood before him, his eyes blazing with power. “Your time is over. You have failed.”
Then he struck with his scythe in a blur of motion that was impossible to follow. A moment later, the Keeper’s skull dropped to the floor with a rattle of bone, the sound breaking the heavy silence that had descended upon the deathscape. His body stood headless for a long moment, a torrent of ethereal blue energy erupting from his neck and spewing through the room before it finally collapsed to the ground.
Evolution Page 41
