Domr
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Ch. 3.52
🕑 Added 2025-02-03 21:12:04 +0000 UTC52.
A/N: I'll be pausing payment on Patreon on Feb. 28th through April 1st. I've failed to keep up with my promises on chapters and yall deserve the free month. I'll be pausing RR too as I work on actually forming a backlog to try to keep chapter releases smooth and regular.
The air became charged with power, positively crackling as incandescent white light shone through the lines that Yessi had wrapped around the town. The riftheart finally put to work, the exorcism spell flaring to life in a burst of power that filled Santi with pain. His vision went red and his bones turned to molten pillars as his breath froze in his throat as every muscle spasmed and tightened as Santi hit the ground.
It was like a thick tar that had clung to his body was being pulled out while it was on fire. He gagged as his vision came back in, clotted blood coming out of his mouth and hit the ground with a splat. Another heave as more of the clotted black blood came burning out of his mouth as he tried to get to his feet.
His knees shook as he opened his eyes to look at Mercy as she was forced to her knees under the full power of the exorcism spell. The black-red clouds that had been building over the battlefield fled as the purifying energy destroyed it in moments. Mercy wasn’t as lucky.
As an anchor, especially one who had built her evolutions around her curse, she was under a full born attack on her very being. Her skin rippled, bulging and collapsing in waves, as if something was trying to get free from her. Her blood constructed weapons exploded into a mist as she writhed on her knees, grabbing at her chest as bone cracked and blood poured out of her chest to pool on the ground.
Everyone had tendrils of cursed energy being pulled out of them, the corruption having seeped into the entire area. Alan was rolling on the ground, his aura stripped away from him in the burst of cleansing power. The other Apostate was down on a knee, but rising quickly as she stood over the crippled [Blood Mage]. Santi moved fast,battling past the pain, his mana struggling as he forced himself to cast [Wind Blade], angling it around the armored Apostate, and watched as Mercy was split in half.
She exploded in a mass of gore, blood bursting like an overfilled balloon, all that was left was a floating orb filled with swirling energy. The blood stopped in midair, held frozen in the air as the inner power of the orb drew the drops together, forming a bloody floating shape reminiscent of a human body.
Bloodlust Avatar lvl. 64
Santi stared at the creature in front of him in confusion, the kill alert for Mercy Johnson there in his feed. The avatar was something else, a different entity that was weakening in power as the exorcism continued to assault it. Even as Santi watched its level dipped one more to sixty-three.
The avatar reached out a hand and a burst of bloody power hit the Apostate in the chest, picking her up and throwing her backward. Alan groaned and got to his feet, raised his hands into a boxing stance, and staggered toward it.
“Dad!” Cam shouted, tackling his discombobulated father around the waist as another burst of power shot through the space where Alan had just been. Santi staggered forward, lashing the construct with [Wind Blades], each blow destroying a limb, but it was just regenerated from the pools of blood all around it. It slashed the air with a whip like crack and an [Air Shield] prevented him from being split in half. Nauseous energy ran over him, trying to sink deeper into his body, but the cleansing light pushed it away.
It bubbled, pustules forming and popping to send sprays of infection around, only to be evaporated by Yessenia’s spell. It was a plague, a walking tsunami of death and destruction, held only back by the burning away riftheart. Already the power of the spell was fading, the riftheart not strong enough to keep the power of the exorcism spell ongoing.
Santi gritted his teeth as he got closer to the avatar, morph weapon stretching out into a lance as he lunged. Blood welded together to form a kite shield, but the lance tip popped right through it, spraying blood out in an arc as the tip of the lance skittered around the edge of the hard orb in the center of the swirling waters.
The blade screamed in his mind, corruption trying to infiltrate the weapon, but the fading white light ripped the black tendrils away immediately. Santi fired off a pair of [Wind Blades], angling them to either side of the orb. The body exploded and the orb was left floating there for a moment without its body protecting it.
[Air Manipulation] formed a hand and he scooped the orb out from its body, the blood splashing to the ground instantly as Santi was forced to contend against rippling waves of power as the orb fought against his blanketing mana to reconnect to the cursed blood that filled the battlefield.
Without the constant influx of cursed energy the blood began to be purged of the curse even with the massive exorcism spell fading away. Sweat popped on Santi’s scalp as blood ran down his nose and ears, he turned and spat out another wad of clotted, blackened blood. His mana was thinning, his regeneration failing to keep up, and Santi was becoming desperate as he looked around for Yessenia.
His sister was running forward, a dwarven crafted pot in her hands, runes she had painted around it beginning to glow as she closed the distance. It had been something Santi had asked Torin to make at the last moment and Yessenia had painted as a last moment precaution. She lifted the top off and got into position as Santi’s mana finally buckled and collapsed, his spell collapsing and the orb sat there frozen for a moment.
Yessi scooped it up, the protected lid touching the diminishing orb and shoving it into the pot. The entire pot lit up, dozens of simple runes turning bright white as the pot began to glow red. Yessi sat it down on the ground as silence grew as everyone looked over the blood splattered fields. The ragged survivors were all stunned and looking about at each other stunned.
Santi staggered to his feet as he looked over his friends and the newest group. He didn’t see Chad, but otherwise his entire group of friends and family were alive. The relief was enough to stagger him, but Bianca was there, grabbing his elbow and holding him up. Alerts were flying through his feed, but he dismissed it all with a wave of his hand.
The white aura of the spell faded as the last of the riftheart was burned away, but the battlefield was cleared of the effects of the curse. It was all over, the looming threat contained in a simple pot, covered in reflection and protection runes, all of them keeping the dread curse contained. Santi glanced at his kill feed and saw the avatar’s death in his feed. He had “killed” it when it was at sixty-two, exactly ten levels above his current level.
“Is it dead, Naomi?” one of the new people asked, her voice quizzical as she stared at the glowing red pot with the white glowing runes. The Apostate looked at the pot and then slowly cleaned her blade off with a piece of fabric and then sheathed it.
“Close enough,” she rasped, her voice strained and hoarse as she looked over the field, settling on Duncan’s punctured corpse for just a moment longer. Her face held a myriad of emotions that flickered by, but the relief was the largest. Santi blinked, not believing what he was seeing as the Apostate looked away from her dead companion and towards her team.
“Seems that some of us already know each other, but I’m Naomi Weaver,” the Apostate stuck her hand out, blood still wet on her strong fingers. Santi stared at the bloody hand and the pure exhaustion on his friends and families faces. His own broken body was screaming for rest, the absence of the curse’s strength leaving him feeling as drained as a wrung rag.
Santi took her hand, the blood still warm and wet as he smeared it over his own hands. He pumped her hand twice.
“I’m Santiago, this is a mix of family and friends. I have to say, thank you for helping,” Santi said, his own voice just as raspy and destroyed as Naomi’s.
“We lost people, but it needed to be done. Anyone who had eyes could see they were bad news,” she pointed a shoe at a dead cursed warrior. The small play the two regressors were playing out for everyone else was tiring, but Santi was in no shape for another fight.
“Daniel, Hana, think you two can begin to police all the bodies? Yessi, we’re going to need a purifying circle on those we killed outside of the gates. I don’t think there’s enough energy left to form a new cursed stone, but let’s not risk it.” Santi scanned the last of the ruined town, their brief fight having leveled most everything left.
Stray skills, spells, and even physical attacks sending ripples out to break apart the remnants of the mortal homes and buildings. There was nowhere to really sit or rest, besides underneath the pillar.
“Let’s regroup under the pillar and let us catch our breath, shall we?” Naomi said, beating Santi to it. Cam and Alan were still clutching each other, Alan’s smaller body seeming to encompass his son’s. The two of them were sobbing, crying and gasping as they held on, relief and joy overwhelming them. Naomi had a faint smile while looking at Alan. Santi grunted and Tank and Bianca assisted him toward the pillar, while Daniel, Hana, and the remnants of their rangers began to work their way through the piles of bodies. Mom, Torin, and Yessenia had grabbed the cursed pot and Yessi’s small pack of supplies before heading off towards the road.
Naomi motioned some of her people off and they loped away back into the hills, while the rest of them formed up in a loose posse and came to sit around her underneath the pillar. Acolyte level rations were handed out, bottles of water were drank, and Tank was busy running around healing those who didn’t need an immediate healing potion.
Santi breathed a sigh of relief with his back against the hard metal of the pillar, so tired he couldn’t keep his eyes open, the heavy lids closing shut on their own accord.
