The Conciege
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(THOB) Chapter 152: Breathe
🕑 Added 2024-02-26 20:58:07 +0000 UTCThey couldn’t afford to let the fight drag on. But if there were no wisps, how could he change its course? If Berlak evaded him at every turn, how could they turn the tide? The answer came to him as quickly as the question. There’s more you can do in the dark.
Stepping forward, he moved his hand in as he spun from the cover of Olufemi’s back to oppose Berlak. The god turned away from his attack easily, striking a closed fist against the flat of Olufemi’s Sunder.
Breathe, Ezril reminded himself as he stepped forward, ducking beneath Olufemi’s displaced Sunder as it swung back from Berlak’s defense, and striking out. Berlak stepped away from him just as easily, a crease fancying his brows.
Breathe.
He spun away, pivoting on his foot to send him circling around Olufemi as the priest struck their opponent, making impact with the stump where an arm had once been.
Ezril completed the spin to come at Berlak a second time from the same angle, and this time the man struck the flat of his Sunder to keep it away. The Sunders, nothing but a tree of golden cracks in the dark that left a trail of flickering gold in its wake turned away from its trajectory as Berlak sucked in a sharp breath.
Breathe.
Ezril spun from the deflection, a second blow trailing a path to his opponent. Berlak’s hand came up, choosing to take Olufemi’s blow instead. Ezril’s swing trailed through the darkness, perhaps guided by it as he spun the Sunder into a reverse grip. Berlak’s blow sailed through the night striking nothing where the Sunder should’ve been. Ezril’s attack took him in the side. As edge met skin, Ezril ignited the cold fire in his skin as he’d done each time he’d thought his attack would connect. With the pain came the familiar feeling of resistance as flesh gave way to the domination of sharp steel.
Berlak spun away from the blow. A gasp of pain escaped his lips and his hand went to his side as he snarled at them like a wounded animal.
Olufemi gave the enemy no time to consider, stepping in with a thrust. Moving with his brother, Ezril stepped to the side. Berlak watched him from the edge of his vision seeming to deem him a greater threat than before. Distracted by Ezril, the tip of Olufemi’s Sunder caught him in the neck but slid over the skin, trailing a thin line of red as if it were a simple blade leaving a scratch as it skimmed over stone. Berlak’s blow came down on Ezril an instant later.
Ezril ducked lower, shifting his center, to spin from the impact. The blow missed and the motion carried Ezril behind Berlak where he brought his Sunders up, cutting through the skin of the man’s back, adding another bloody line to it. Berlak roared in pain as he created a distance between them, blood spilling from the cut in his side and the ones in his back.
Olufemi stepped in almost immediately. Berlak caught Olufemi’s Sunder in his hand as Ezril came at him with a thrust. He threw his head against Olufemi’s, knocking back the priest as Ezril came from his side. He moved quickly as Olufemi staggered back, but not quickly enough. He gripped Ezril’s Sunder, halting its motion as his skin succumbed to the thrust, the tip of the Sunder a finger length deep into his skin. With a vicious kick to the side, he sent Ezril soaring.
Hand held against his side where he was certain he’d broken at least two ribs, maybe three, Ezril stood beside Olufemi as he watched the man rip the Sunder from where it had taken root in his palm with his teeth and discard it as if he were a child who hadn’t known the pot he held to be hot.
Berlak opened his mouth to speak but shut it quickly as Olufemi closed the gap between them once more. Ezril followed behind him. Berlak’s gaze flickered between the both of them in uncertainty. Olufemi’s upward strike came lightning fast, aimed at the man’s eyes, and he was forced to give it import. His hand came down to meet the strike and Ezril quickened his attack, closing the distance in one step to present himself before Olufemi, his own Sunder trailed a golden path upwards to meet the blow. His Sunder took the arm at the elbow, severing it at the joint and Berlak screamed in pain. Olufemi’s strike took him in the eye. His hand twitched and Ezril reversed his grip, cutting a deep wound across his torso from shoulder to stomach in a diagonal trail. Blood spilling in the wake of it, Berlak staggered back. Ezril returned his grip but before he could follow up Olufemi spun on his feet and drove a kick into Berlak’s side.
The blow sent Berlak flying into the stone wall a few feet away. There was a rumble at the impact and Berlak slid down to the ground, his back rested against the wall in defeat, and just like that, the tension poured out of the heavy air.
Ezril heaved a deep breath, expelling it with equal gusto.
“Impossible.”
Ezril and Olufemi rose their heads at the word. Berlak’s gaze remained on his lap as blood spilled from every cut inflicted upon him. His voice still held its authority, however, there was no compulsion to it. It was obvious the god was speaking to himself, but Ezril wasn’t certain the god even knew it.
When Ezril took a step towards him, Berlak’s gaze snapped to him at the sound. In his eyes were a confusion born of an inability to understand what was happening. But somehow Ezril knew it was his defeat that confused him. The god had accepted it, considering it was staring at him. Ezril watched the man’s eyes as he drew closer. It was strange how despite how well he could see in the darkness he couldn’t make out the color of his eyes. Still, he could recognize the emotion swirling behind it; behind all the confusion.
“Y’know, I’ve always wondered if gods are capable of fear,” he told Berlak, stalking the bleeding man. His grip on his Sunder turned cold as pain trailed down both sides of his abdomen and his skin burned. It was a sad thing to know he’d grown to accept that one day there would be nothing left of him but scarred tissue. When will my face be burned too? he wondered.
Standing before Berlak, he looked down at the man’s eyes and watched realization supersede the confusion. He offered the man a sad smile. “I guess it is to be expected. Every one eventually comes to fear death.”
“Impossible! I am Immortal!” Berlak declared, eyes glowing with rebellion. “I am a god. I cannot die. This is but a vessel. A pathetic and weak vessel. You may end it now but I will come back in the next and I will hunt you down. I swear it by Grivit. I will find you and I will kill you. I will bring to you the fear of death…” now he was rambling, spittle and blood spilling with each word… “and when I’m done with you every one will understand my power. I am a god. And you are nothing but a puny mor—”
Ezril silenced him in one swift motion. In one downward strike, Sunder cleaved head from body. “The wars of men are no place for gods.”
He turned away from the corpse and headed to Olufemi in time to see his brother holding his discarded Sunder. It took him three steps before the ground shook and the tower rumbled. His fourth step was a staggered, every ounce of strength fled from him in the space of a heartbeat, leaving him empty. He registered his shock first before registering the panic in his brother’s eyes. As Vayla tilted towards him, the throbbing in his jaw losing strength to his newly gained burn marks and his broken ribs, only one thought came to him as the knowledge of unconsciousness registered in his mind and he watched Olufemi’s gaze follow his every movement.
He can see in the dark too.
