grievinglands
patreon
Book 5: Chapter 49 - The Fall of Man (RAW)
🕑 Added 2025-04-26 13:03:14 +0000 UTCIt is perseverance through the darkest of times that truly marks the souls of the greatest of men. As the tide rises, carrying with it every ship in the harbor, so too does a man's commitment to the realm elevate all those around him. In pursuit of a brighter dawn, one may offer a lifetime to the forging of a just and noble society.
And though the shadow of mortality may claim him before he beholds the fruits of his toil, his legacy left behind is a bettered world. In the face of the abyss, where hope might seem but a fleeting wisp, those who tether their hearts to just purpose shall, indeed, find a profound fulfillment.
- The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 A.C
“You are a far cry from the hero the stories speak of. Why do you seem so full of bile and vitriol? Did you not find peace at the end? Did true wisdom elude you? Or were the tales of your past nothing but hollow lies?” the storm-eyed hero asked, his voice edged with sorrowful disappointment.
“And you,” I hissed venomously, “have spat upon whatever legacy you once held dear by siding with our enemy. By becoming the enemy! I would rather be reborn as a rat than one of them. You are nothing but a traitor to your people! If you still have a shred of decency, you would do the world a favor and fall upon your own sword. No… your death must be by my hand or your very existence would be rendered meaningless.”
From behind his four minions, Alexandros gazed at me with pleading eyes, filled with an almost unbearable sadness. “Can you not see? We seek only to save humanity from itself. I have witnessed mankind's folly. You toy with forces beyond your comprehension.”
“Saving people by slaughtering them hardly sounds like salvation,” I retorted fiercely. “My hand alone will deliver true salvation. I have been chosen! It is the universe’s will—my sacred purpose that transcends even the Divines themselves.”
Alexandros shook his head gravely, planting his pike before him as though it were a wizard’s staff. Whispering ancient, arcane words, the air pulsed with an unseen, primal force. “You are not the only one gifted with immense power,” the ancient hero declared, voice resonating like divine judgment.
Reality suddenly crystallized, freezing everything in absolute stillness. The warriors around us became statues, frozen mid-action. A silvery laugh echoed through the unnatural silence—a sound both intoxicating and infuriating. Iasis, the hateful and mischievous goddess, had come.
“You interfere now, godling?” I snarled, fury igniting within my soul. She was robbing me of precious experience points—experience points promised by Alexandros’ defeat.
I strained to move, muscles taut, yet my limbs refused to obey, encased as if in invisible iron. My rage burned hotter. Again I pushed, only to remain imprisoned within my own armor.
“How delightful your struggle is!” Iasis cooed, gracefully descending from the heavens like a deity blessing mortals with her presence. “Your defiance is, as always, endlessly amusing.”
Not playing her game, I refused to dignify her with a response, biting down on my frustration.
Her darkly radiant features twisted into a mischievous grin. “Your resistance is the epitome of your nature—defiant and proud, the finest of my creations. As reward for your stubbornness, know this: no mortal can move in this stasis, for to do so would be to move the universe itself. Even the Divines cannot move freely—we merely flow through the probabilities. Such truths, however, are beyond your feeble understanding.”
Her condescending words ignited my wrath anew. I clenched my fists, teeth sinking painfully into my lip as my Asura gauge blazed to its maximum. Lost now on the true Path, consumed by wrathful rebellion, a sudden clarity pierced the storm. My finger twitched—just a fraction, but enough to defy her declaration.
My Asura gauge depleted instantly, leaving me drained and gasping. Yet exhilaration filled me. I had touched a power even Divines could not claim. I had become something more.
You have gained 1 Luck.
“Why do you seem so pleased?” Iasis queried, her playful curiosity underscored by irritation as she hovered closer.
Hidden behind my helm, my smirk was concealed—but she was Divine; she perceived everything. “Your presence, your words… they are a revelation,” I responded calmly, my serenity masking deeper defiance.
She clapped delightedly, the childlike gesture disturbingly human on her immortal form. Her smile bloomed pure and innocent. “You flatterer! I was prepared to punish you for invoking my sister’s name while slaying my lesser creations. But perhaps you deserve a reward instead?”
I remembered vividly her hand in Enkidu’s death. Though vengeance burned within me, survival took precedence—I needed to preserve today’s gains or all of this would be for nothing.
“Here is reward enough,” she said softly, eyes twinkling wickedly. “This enemy before you—you cannot defeat him. Unlike you, he carries a fragment of the Divine. A sliver of infinity. His soul’s power eclipses yours—a blazing bonfire to your mere candle. Even now, he restrains himself, seeking a solution beyond your destruction. He toys with you.”
“If he holds back, then so do I!” I snapped reflexively, instantly regretting the childishness of my response.
“No, little Gilgamesh,” she chided gently, shaking her head. “You confuse mercy for weakness. You cannot defeat him… unless, of course, you had equal assistance.”
Tempting though it was, I refused to taint Enkidu’s memory by accepting help from his killer. “Your aid is neither needed nor welcome. I will tear him apart with my own hands.”
“Are those your true words, mortal?” Iasis asked, her playful demeanor vanishing.
“They are,” I sneered.
“Then your fate is sealed,” she pronounced solemnly, and the frozen world lurched violently back into motion.
“Bla—!” My retort was swallowed by overwhelming disorientation as reality rushed forward. Iasis had intervened only to hinder me. Damn them all—damn their meddling hands and manipulative games.
My summoned shades, those who were joined to me by the depths of their passion, retreated from Alexandros like whipped curs. They feared something, and from their fear, I felt the first pricks of a fresh, new uncertainty.
“I am a Summoner, Gilgamesh,” Alexandros began. “A contractor. I use these powers only when I truly have to, when the need is great, for to bring them to this world is to ask of them the greatest of sacrifices. The greatest of summoners can call forth beasts of legend and myth, but I have gone a step further. I have made a contract with myself…”
“You must be very proud of yourself. Just get on with it!” I shouted, drawing my two swords as I charged the warriors in my way. What utter piffle, I thought.
Fighting without allies was liberating, for it allowed me to use one of my indiscriminate skills. A skill that claimed the lives of both friend and foe, it was a skill that I could finally use now that all before me were just enemies—enemies that needed to be laid low.
Frenzied Strikes.
My swords lashed out; their armor might as well have been paper or soft, pliant wool. Where the god-metal failed to cut flesh, my blows still landed with enough force to break limbs.
Now Alexandros stood before me, and only he could withstand my storm, his shield and spear the equal of my blades. It was most frustrating that my swords could not reach him.
No matter, I would unleash such a curse upon him until they could.
Greater Drain launched from me on hungry ebon wings, searching for life. A link formed between us, a bond as intimate as any lover’s—and just as pleasurable. The intoxicating rush filled me, yet left me hungry for more with every pulse of fresh life. So deep in my thrill was I that I did not notice when another arrived in the fray and pushed me back.
The bastard had an elven twin, a man who looked like his mirror image, fighting alongside him now. This one wielded a short sword and shield, working perfectly in tandem with Alexandros, covering each other’s weak spots and openings as if they were one. Which, I realized after a few more exchanges, they were.
“Cheating, Alexandros? Do you think this can stop me?” I laughed loudly, battle-madness settling warmly upon me. My build was more than suitable for dealing with multiple opponents. Greater Drain forked off, latching onto the second Alexandros and giving me double the influx of heady power.
“You are disturbed and too lost in the battle lust. Just yield, you fool!” he shouted, stabbing his spear at me. I did not even bother to defend against it. The spear struck my trunk, inflicting fifty points of damage and apparently bypassing part of my armor—damage that would soon be healed by the influx of life energies and my own regenerative abilities.
“Never!” I shouted back. “Did you know that you can not convince people by insulting them? Just bring me more of you! I doesn’t matter,” I added, laughing crazily.
Already I could see both Alexandros and his clone slowing, weakening as they fought me. Another joined the fray, and Greater Drain sent out another tentacle; I was infused with an additional source of healing and energy. This one bore twin blades like mine, though shorter and capped with small hand guards. With yet another fountain of life to draw on, I had no need to defend—only to absorb the damage and keep fighting.
They fools lacked the output to overcome my Regeneration, boosted by Greater Drain and Entropic Aura.
Yet another lackluster Alexandros joined the contest: a version wielding a tall warscythe. However, now I saw the danger I was in. How many times could he summon himself for this duel? How far would this man spit upon honor?
My wraiths were all but useless; hesitation plagued them, and they served as poor distractions at best. Still, it was a level-one spell—what could I expect?
Using Improved Dash, I created space and sheathed my blades. The Alexandros clones closed in on me, unaware of what I had planned, while the original shouted a warning—too late, of course.
Thinking me vulnerable, the one with twin swords launched a vertical slice and a thrust. My Mimic formed an immense tower shield, blocking the attack before disappearing back into my arm and allowing me to unleash my draw-cut—Vorpal Slash.
A line of black stained the air where my blade seemed to slice reality itself. Within that rift I glimpsed a myriad of hungry eyes. The Alexandros clone died instantly, a diagonal line shearing through chest and exiting his shoulder.
You have learned Vorpal Slash (lvl.2)
The quick gain must have been caused by repetition or novelty—likely a mix of both. It was a shame I was not earning experience from his, or its death, for that matter. But, a silver lining, my Asura gauge climbed by a considerable amount. This contest would get interesting.
The other clones drew back, fear and well-founded caution lacing their stances. I saw the original Alexandros wince, his face a fraction paler; perhaps he felt what these copies did—perhaps there was a link between them.
“Thank you for providing these. They shall be the whetstone upon which I hone my greatness,” I said with a smile, my voice hollow behind a layer of Adamantine alloy.
More Alexandros appeared—the copies he had summoned now summoned further, corrupt versions of him. Some were twisted in horrible ways. One had three arms, its bent limbs and existence worthy of pity, save for he massive, vicious-looking two-handed falx it wielded.
Perhaps Iasis, goddess of whores, had been right: Alexandros carried a sliver of infinity, yet he was less than a perfect vessel. There would be flaws… there would be cracks. He could be defeated.
For Al-Lazar’s future and my glory, he had to meet a final death.
Releasing Zariyah, we rampaged among them, Greater Drain rendering me an untiring, immortal killing machine. The knife flickered like an angry humming bee, storm-charged and merciless. There could be no defense against so small and swift a weapon. I had discarded all pretense of defense, leaving my Mimic to guide the sword in my hand—its unnatural reflexes far faster than my own.
Thus I fought like the swordmasters of legend, each blade a living weapon seeking gaps in armor, stabbing and slashing with controlled abandon. My Health points fell and rose, fell and rose, yet I fought on, no longer needing to ration power while Greater Drain fed me a steady diet of raw life energy.
You have gained 1 Strength.
More gains as the difficulty of this scripted encounter ramped up. It was now a race to reach the pike-wielding original Alexandros, to see if I could cut through this wall of flesh and metal he was summoning. It was the inevitable against the infinite, as more and more Alexandros were summoned onto this plane.
You have gained 1 Luck.
How he fed me—fed my Asura gauge. I cut and cut and cut, again and again, moving with all of my perfect speed. I became a dervish of mastery, but still I could not find him, could not see the target I must slay. I sought the purple-glowing sarissa pike in the madness and chaos; the infuriating bearing that would mark him, but found only copies. Doubt sprouted within me with every false version I slew.
I sensed something had changed among them.
Now, they were not trying to kill me, merely to slow me with their sheer mass.
And some of their number wielded more than ancient bronze and steel; bolts of flame, water, and electricity raked across me, at first inflicting more damage than all of their physical blows combined. Soon, however, a shield formed around me, born from Entropic Aura, as it absorbed and feasted on those same mystical forces. The barrier blunted their foul magics so thoroughly that they dealt only single-digit damage.
You have gained 1 Constitution
Slowly, I realized that I was losing. I had been a fool not to use Sage’s Sight on the original Alexandros; had I done so, finding the cur would have been child’s play. Instead, I was drowning in bodies.
Two burly versions of Alexandros threw themselves around my arms, dragging me back. More joined, adding their Strength to the contest. I lashed out, releasing Freezing Aura; they slowed but did not stop. I kicked, elbowed, and punched, trying to clear space, but they were legion. Calling my Vessel weapon close, I let the nasty blade wreak havoc in such tight quarters, yet it was not enough. Like a mighty river, they pushed me ever closer to the edge of the square.
Then, suddenly, they were all gone, and I was caught off-balance. I began to fall. I saw Alexandros—his face a mask of rage—as he charged, shouldering me with his shield in a powerful display of speed and Strength.
Strong as I was, I could not deny the laws of physics and tried to take a step back to regain my balance. Enveloped by golden light, a shimmering haze, reality, splintering like so much delicate crystal glass.
And I fell.
And fell—endlessly, it seemed, into a darkness that was like, but not of, the void. It was an endless embrace, profound and most suffocating. Above me, the heavens unfurled, the moon and countless stars glittering coldly, their majesty indifferent to my plight. The clouds struggled vainly to contain their light, their silken streams palely illuminated.
There was a rush and whistling of air around me.
Still clutching my twin blades in a death grip, I shouted out to my Vessel weapon. The blade trembled, resisting the call, yet inevitably yielded to me, her master's will. Flying close, though her presence did not stop the sensation of falling altogether, I felt it lessening; the sensation of plummeting dulled and gentled.
Abruptly, the fall ceased with a shuddering impact, and the air rushed out of my lungs. Beneath me, something fragile gave way with the sharp symphony of shattering glass and crumpling metal, immediately succeeded by the shrill clamor of a wailing alarm, a sound frantic and chaotic.
Comments
Mesa
You'll find out next chapter now.
KingOrgasmusTwo
Love the fight. Though o fear that only one chapter is left for this book. Are we have way for the over all story now or where are we presumably? He needs to kick Alexandros ass and prove Iasis wrong. She can’t sense the chaos powers inside him
KingOrgasmusTwo
An Alarm? Metal and Glas? Did he fall back to our world?
