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CHAPTER 32 In the end, Death still Claims
🕑 Added 2025-05-20 17:59:12 +0000 UTCDavid had watched Aura intently as she knelt, drawing glowing containment sigils into the dirt with a focus so sharp it cut through the chaos around her. What’s she doing?
The flames erupted, roaring to life as Aura hurled her vials into the containment circle. Heat washed over him, and his heart raced as monsters shrieked and charged, drawn to the light and the sheer torrent of mana she was unleashing.
Aura was throwing everything into this. She was exhausted. If anything interrupted her, if a single monster got through and broke her concentration… He shook his head.
He froze for a moment. What if she fails? For a second, he wanted to run. What am I even thinking about!? He slipped away from the children, running towards Aura through the shadows. He had to cover her.
The villagers fought valiantly, their makeshift weapons raised high, but they were exhausted. They couldn’t stop all of them. Not enough.
David’s claws scraped together as he tensed his hands, the sound sending shivers through him.
He darted forward, keeping low and staying out of Aura’s sight, using the towering flames she had summoned as cover.
A boarlet broke past the line of defenders, its beady eyes locked onto Aura. David moved. The claws flourished, sharp and alien. He filled his legs with mana and pain, intercepting it.
The monster ignored him, recklessly trying to reach Aura. Crudely, with a wide, unpracticed swipe, David tore its back open. The soft squelch of flesh felt… ecstatic. Disgusting. Fresh blood dripped down his hands.
Another boarlet charged, screeching. Its bone knife dug deep into David’s leg.
Shocked by pain, he rammed the monster, his claws digging deep into the soft chest. Blood spurted, painted him red. David trembled, a raw, feral satisfaction pulsed through his veins while his mind was wrought with terror.
And then the third one hit him.
It came from behind. A goblin's jagged teeth bit into David’s shoulder. Pain seared through him.
He twisted, trying to shake it off. He swiped to gouge its eyes, but it wasn’t enough. The monster clung to him, each move tearing through David’s flesh.
Aura screamed, her voice strained and desperate, “GET CLEAR, IT’S ALMOST READY!”
His head was going blank from the pain. The blast zone.
The mana was wrestling out of his control as he panicked. It was like a bomb within his body.
He poured mana into the wound in his shoulder, desperate to find an outlet for it. His instincts screamed at him to try.
His body burned as his flesh overloaded. David felt the forced out mana sink into the goblin’s fangs.
Suddenly, its jaws slackened and the monster tried to pull away. Too late.
Its skull expanded grotesquely before bursting in a shower of gore and its limp body fell away.
David staggered back, clutching his shoulder as white-hot agony seared through him. Pieces of overloaded sludge stuck to his fingers– All that remained of his skin.
His body was wrecked, but he stumbled forward. He was dragging himself beyond the containment line. The flames behind him were growing, Aura’s spell was almost complete.
A pair of strong arms suddenly hoisted him up. He gasped as the movement jarred his injury. A villager—one of the defenders—grabbed him.
He was about to protest, but the spell was imminent.
“You’re hurt! Don’t move!” the man barked, cradling him as he ran to safety.
His chest ached with each breath; his leg was still bleeding. David’s fingers were numb, but he did his best to curl them inward. No one could see.
Behind them, Aura’s flames had erupted into a towering inferno, and for a moment, everything was lost in the searing light.
He let himself go limp in the villager’s arms. And, just for a moment, as the inferno consumed the world behind him, he felt powerful. He had protected her.
-=-=-
Darryl’s muscles burned, but he didn’t stop. There wasn’t time to rest. His weapon flared with each swing, bursts of frost and flame carving paths through the endless tide of monsters.
The blade was a gift, one he’d cursed moments after taking it, but now he clung to it like a lifeline. The frostfire sword did the heavy lifting, its dual elements disrupting the monsters’ momentum.
He timed each strike with precision, watching as clusters of creatures faltered in the chaos it created. Slower. Weaker. But not gone. Never gone.
He stepped back, panting, his boots slipping on blood-slick ground. The defenders around him were barely holding. Wounded, their ravaged arms barely able to lift their weapons. But still fighting. They had no choice.
He scanned the faces of the guards, searching for someone to swap with, someone fresher, but there were no one left. Every able-bodied fighter was already there.
The villagers who could still stand had taken up planks and clubs, fighting like cornered animals.
And then it hit him. A wall of heat from behind, searing the back of his neck. He whipped around, the frostfire sword raised instinctively. For a moment, he froze.
An inferno raged behind him, towering flames consuming almost half the square. The air rippled with heat, the ground charred black, and the outline of a blazing figure—a flame elemental—briefly shimmered before dissolving into the firestorm.
“Holy hell!” Darryl screamed, squinting against the brightness. We had a battlemage. His thoughts scrambled. No, no, can’t be.
The spell was sloppy, all control traded for reckless power. It had to be that little lady from before. Only an alchemist could be mad enough to unleash something so catastrophic in the middle of a crowd.
He grimaced. Half the village was now feeding the flames, but the tide was turning.
The monsters screamed, their cries filling the air as they burned, limbs curling in on themselves as the fires consumed them. The once sprawling horde was now funneled into smaller, tighter groups. The defenders tightened their lines in response, pooling their strength in a smaller space.
Darryl glanced at the horizon, and his chest clenched. Red light peeking out from behind the celestial giant. It was faint, barely visible, but it was there. The sun was coming. And with it, salvation.
The monsters were slowing. Their erratic, feral movements dulled, their strength sapped by the approach of dawn. But they didn’t retreat. If anything, the scent of blood and death seemed to enrage them further.
They were too far gone to retreat. Their attacks, while weaker, became more desperate, their shrieks piercing the air as they hurled themselves at the defenders with complete abandon.
“Damn it,” Darryl cursed, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. The horde wouldn’t grow any larger, but they had to cull it to the last. He had to change his approach.
He took a step forward, swinging the frostfire sword in a wide arc, the blade igniting in a burst of fire and frost that sent three creatures sprawling. It was up to him to deliver enough killing blows.
He caught a brute's axe as it crashed towards him. It shattered, but the monster still lived. He was wasting strength by taking the point. I won’t last like this.
He stepped back, letting the villagers take the point.
Another brute pushed forward. It tore open a man’s skull with a heavy blow.
Now. Darryl lunged, setting the monster ablaze. He looked at the bloodied face of yet another person who paid with their lives.
But if Darryl had dropped dead instead, the defence could still collapse. Others had to take the blows— slow the enemy—so he could do the butchering.
“It’s the final push!” Darryl bellowed, the human shield building in front of him. “They weaken! Cut them down or die with them!” He sent his people to death with a rallying cry. Good people, most of them.
The defenders beside him surged, pushing back with renewed energy.
Darryl’s legs trembled as he pressed forward, slashing at a lunging boarlet and knocking it back, spreading the flames. The air was thick with ash and the coppery scent of blood. The villagers were haggard, but they kept fighting. A second wind – victory was in the air, they needed only reach for it.
One more villager dead, one more monster cut down.
One step closer to reprieve.
