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Bloodsworn Ch. 2.45
🕑 Added 2025-06-24 19:14:13 +0000 UTC45.
Erak planted his foot in the Risen Behemoth’s chest and pushed down with all his might. Bone shattered as his boot blew through the thin protection its fragile ribs offered, organs pulped as blood erupted in a geyser. Erak swung his hammer, crushing the creature’s head for the fifth time. His frustration was mounting as more and more of its spare limbs were converted into mass.
He fell upon it in wrath, the hammer a blur as he struck over and over again, black, clotted, blood spraying across the street until four fiery blue orbs launched themselves free and flew into the sky. Erak grunted with the effort to remove his foot from the creature’s caved in chest, looking around the chaos of the battlefield.
The last half hour had seen more of the behemoths arrive, lumbering and slow they offered little threat to him. Their broken corpses littered the streets or buildings where he’d thrown them, intent on carving his way through the forces of undead toward the museum that they needed to reach.
It wasn’t going well. Hundreds of the risen lay dead with every block, but his militia was growing weary. Their gains were stagnating as they grew in strength, levels rocketing upward, but leveling off as the undead didn’t offer sufficient challenge. Exhaustion was now their enemy, their sprint turned to a marathon. With a flicker of his attention, he sent his orders through the thigh thick tethers that now connected him to his detachment.
Watching as the square rotated, moving as one being rather than a mass of nearly two hundred, was impressive. They left their position near the intersection and came down the road that Erak had just cleare. Shattered stone and rotting corpses all bore evidence of the recent fight. With the fighting square now only pressed on one side, the most exhausted could rest while Erak thought of what to do.
Slowing down in a fight like this was death, but so was pushing further in without knowing what lay ahead. If they were near the end of the horde, then they could rally. If there were still armies of reanimated ancient soldiers waiting for them, then pushing deeper could lead to their destruction.
Erak glanced back the way they came, looking through the stone buildings and toward the landing spot. He could imagine the pressure they’d be under there, but they had nearly three times the force that Erak had to defend their retreat.
An engineer broke free of the square and hurried over to Erak, the frazzled woman looking familiar. She peered up at him and Erak realized where he’d met her before, she had been the Engineer who had opened up the floating docks for them. She had gained several levels since then, closing in on level twenty.
“Sir, Bloodsworn, the rest of my contingent…their nerves are breaking. I know that you are used to this sir, but they aren’t. I fear they will break shortly if we do not find respite,” the engineer said quickly, eyes downcast as if shamed by her fellow's shallow courage. Erak nodded to her and pointed at an empty building. She understood the meaning quickly enough and the rest of the contingent of engineers and technicians rushed into the building with only a handful of militiamen to guard them.
Above them the mist parted as Pomp came flying down, his long wings spread to catch invisible air currents. The long dragons swooped by, flying over the men to lance the risen with a blast of arctic chill, freezing a line of them and halting their advance for a moment. The dragon wheeled in the sky, banking between the buildings before coming to land on Erak’s shoulder.
“Erak, we must hurry,” Pomp breathed out quickly, his weight having not finished settling before he spoke.
“What now?”Erak thought.
“The fire is floating in the air, merging together to create something. It feels like a portal similar to the one above the capital,” Pomp informed him. There was a trace of fear in the dragon’s voice at the pronouncement.
“There is more. There is a dark magic in the air. Similar to what we found at the lake and in the floating docks,” Pomp continued. Erak’s heart lurched as he suddenly felt like he was burning again, the heat cooking him inside as he slaughtered them all. Hatred boiled there in that fear and memories of agony.
“We kill it.”
“I had a feeling you’d say that. I flew through the city towards the museum. The crowds are thinner there, much thinner. But towards the memorial of the war, the deep crypts and burial fields near the heart of the city is overflowing with these creatures and more. It will be a challenge to reach it.”
“Not with the Sword’s firepower. Museum first, then we head toward the center of the city. We shall slay this sorcerer before they run again.”
As they were speaking, Nevia had broken free, leaving her sergeants in charge of the line of fighters to reach them. She looked hale and hearty for the most part, though there was a long streak of red-black blood across her pale face.
“Pomp, good of you to join us. Erak, what are we doing? We are losing our momentum, the fighting hasn’t slowed enough for our men to recover their Essence. This is the worst of all worlds,” Nevia said in a whisper, ensuring that nobody could overhear them.
“I have scouted the path. The museum isn’t fat and once we break through this cordon of the undead, we shall have a clear path forward to it relatively unchallenged. Erak has other ideas about what we do after that,” Pomp said, turning to look at Nevia.
“Why do I have the feeling it involves going toward the undead and not away from them?” Nevia said, looking at Erak.
“You’d be correct. I have found traces of magic similar as to what we experienced at the lake where Erak was injured and upon the floating docks, which you were forced to experience,” Pomp said. Nevia’s face instantly hardened as she stood straighter.
“It’ll be powerful then. We’ll need to condense our strength, less troops but higher levels. We should get Sammus when we confront this being.”
“This is why I like her. No fear. No hesitation.”
“Erak agrees, but first we need to push toward the museum and gather the weapons there. I still don’t know how you plan to get them out of the city with this mist. The shuttle won’t be able to fly through the area,” Pomp said, turning his draconic eyes back on Erak.
“We’ll figure it out when we get there. Have the men prepare to push, I shall lead the charge.”
“Of course you will, when don’t you lead the charge?” Pomp said dryly, but the dragon unfurled his wings and flapped them twice to fly towards the men. His voice began to boom as he issued orders in Erak’s name.
“We will kill this beast, Erak. That hangar haunts my nightmares,” Nevia said. She slapped him on a shoulder and turned to trot away, barking her own orders to her platoon as everyone began to gather about. The engineers poked their heads out of the building, frustrated and scared that their rest had been so short.
Erak shrugged his shoulders and stretched, trying to work the kinks out of his neck and back before he walked back to the frontlines. He swung the hammer in lazy circles as men stood to the side, aware of his approach through the aura and splitting to allow him through without a word.
He walked through their shield wall and stood in front of them, raising his hammer in the air and roaring his defiance, sending his courage and determination through the aura links. His men roared back, defiant at the mounting odds. Erak felt a smile pull on the scarred tissue of his cheeks as he began his charge.
