Mythshaper
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Mythshaper - Chapter 95
🕑 Added 2025-08-28 21:04:54 +0000 UTCChapter 95: Disquiet Night
Ouroboros, ablaze in smouldering flame, struck into the skull of the monstrosity breaking the dome.
"Father," I shouted, creeping nearer.
Father did not answer. He did not have the time to, even if he heard through the deafening clamour of the demons. The Ashhound required his entire attention. Even a moment's lapse in judgement could wound him direly.
The blazing sword barely bit into the monster when it threw him off, the cut stitching together immediately with no visible ichor.
Father avoided its pursuit, his silhouette dashing through the lurid expanse littered with demons. With a couple more aura swords, he managed to catch the attention of a pair of its companions as well.
With three Ashhounds on him, he had to pull his weight to make any attempt at attacking. Most of his movement was lost in evading the hounding demons. In my eyes, it seemed as though he was barely avoiding them, and yet he somehow led all three greater demons away from the vicinity of the Sacrarium.
There was no visible sign of tiredness on his body, his movement sublime and foresightful, as though he had choreographed the entire conflict.
Finally, a couple of hundred metres away, Father's sword fell in crippling blows. With tearing acceleration, he thrust at the monster, once again blood-red flame blazing on the edge of the blade.
The blade hacked into the back of its hind leg, into its knee. He could not quite sever it, but its limb twisted as the mammoth Ashhound stumbled sideways. Snarling, it lunged at Father, its horrid maw opening to devour him. Fortunately, Father saw the outcome and did not linger after the successful blow.
His blade exploded into a tempest of wind, shredding through the lesser demons with little difficulty. But the cutting wind barely impeded the greater demons.
Father was slightly faster than the Ashhounds, implementing short bursts of movement. Coupling this with his swordsmanship, he had a fair chance against a single greater demon without releasing his Soulward. However, against three, he could only buy time. The hideous bats flying about were not helping his cause, either.
Crippling one hind leg slowed down the six-legged monstrosity considerably, which alleviated the pressure on him somewhat. He tried to apply the same tactics, but the Ashhounds were instinctively more intelligent than their horrifying form implied. They did not fall for the same tactic, hounding him together.
The only consolation was that the greater demons had no consideration for their lesser counterparts, trampling over them to hunt Father. So much so that within a couple of minutes, the number of devourers more than halved. Not that Father had any easier time fighting the greater demons. Most times, his sword barely left a dent on their flinty exterior, and even those wounds that he managed were healed before he could capitalise on them. It would not have been so bad if there had been even one fewer Ashhound.
Elemental resonances erupted from his blade every second, either impeding the abominable demons or inflicting wounds that required them a few moments to heal. They hounded him with unrelenting force that Father had no choice but to reciprocate with the same relentlessness.
Only he had no gift of regeneration, and while he had not taken any grievous wounds so far, the near brushes and crashes were enough to wear down any man of flesh and blood.
There was also the consideration of his Aura. Despite it not being quite the same as Essence, there was a hard limit to how much an awakened could exert.
Biting my lower lip, I watched him tumble through the great demons with great trepidation. Father's battle strategy shifted from a more head-on approach to a hit-and-run tactic. I did not know if he believed he could wear down these great demons. Fractal Sight led me to see that there was barely any reduction in their demon cores. On the contrary, the amount of essence only rose, circulating through their dark ichor, improving their regenerative and physical capabilities.
Eventually, Father seemed to have had enough and released his Soulward. The dark robe barely shrouded him when his form tore through the distance to pierce his sword into the forelimb of a creature. The blade dug through, its dark edge puncturing through the other side with a splatter of dark blood.
The Ashhound let out a numbing cry, its claw striking him, who twisted his body along with its wound to tumble it over, the vulnerable underside of its neck open for a strike.
Father did not make the blow. Instead, he shouted, "Ash!"
A great axe as large as required to behead a mammoth Ashhound flung out of the darkness to fall upon the exposed neck. The great demon shrieked and erupted with great strength.
But all its struggle was for nought when a slender figure landed on top of the great axe, thousands of essence threads springing out from her luminescent form to encapsulate the monstrosity in chains. She did not utilise her essence for an attack, but only used it to keep the monster pinned against the ground, while the great axe slowly and steadily bit through the rugged flesh.
A devastating cry rang from her rear, and out came another Ashhound to rescue its brethren. Mum did not even spare a glance. She did not have to. A dark silhouette flew to intercept the monster.
On the other side, Guildmaster Rowin and Larius barely kept the last Ashhound at bay. They implemented barriers and kinetic force, their essence threads united to strengthen their weave, giving Mum just enough time to end the Ashhound.
With the burden off his shoulders, Father did not waste time implementing his strongest attack. His Soulward covered the relic entirely, extending the blade to two metres. Bloody plumes and dark tendrils wafted from its edge, as it had little trouble breaching the monster's defence.
Ouroboros drilled deeper, sputtering with black ichor and the screams of the monster. A clawed limb struck towards him, leaving him with no other choice but to evade, only inflicting a flesh wound.
It did not hamper the Ashhound at all, as it surged at him with unquenchable fury. Father moved in a sinuous form as though his body was light as a feather, evading through the dogged claws to strike with his sword.
The flesh wound he inflicted surprisingly did not heal as well as the other times, the tar leaking constantly. On top of it, he added new wounds to its pale sculpted form.
Meanwhile, Mum was mostly done with her Ashhound. The heavy axe had created a bloody fissure which only expanded with each moment. The monster could not even struggle, and finally, even its roar became lifeless, its throat severed utterly to prevent any sound.
The monster lay lifeless, its head split from its neck, large spatters of blood squelching the earth. A crater was formed beneath the monster with the sheer force it had struggled against the weight on top of it.
Mum flew over to Father, the bloody axe held aloft by her essence threads. Father had already wounded the beast in several places, and although they were merely flesh wounds, the inability to heal left the pale ravager in a berserking state. The mountainous form tore through the night, chasing a visage barely visible in the dark.
With an exchange of glances with Mum, he led it through the ranks of ravenous ghouls and corpse flies. The Ashhound already had no qualms about pounding on the lesser demons, and in its berserk state, it seemed to see only the dark silhouette running from it.
The monster revelled in the hunt, completely unaware of its hubris. It did not sense the war axe pummelling into its hind leg from behind, or the hundreds of essence threads impeding its charge.
The woven threads ripped apart against the berserk force as it changed its target, maw opening to bite off her head. But before it could, Father's figure appeared, smacking the extended blade into its throat.
The axe fell on its neck once more before both of them withdrew, the Greater Demon's attack meeting shifting air.
With an exchange of nods, my parents advanced together, attacking the monstrosity from both sides, impressing upon the monster's focus with their finest moves.
They worked with almost perfect harmony, almost matching one another. When Father withdrew, Mother advanced to take the pressure off him, and when a monster impeded her, Father's sword fell upon it. The surprising thing was how proficient Mother was in physical combat. Her weaving capability did not astound me, but the way she held the war axe, not afraid of a physical confrontation, showed she had broad experience in both.
Of course, she did not have the quite sublime, sinuous movement of Father, but with her flight, she was at times faster than him.
Working together, they managed to impair the monster's lower body, so much so that it could barely carry its heavy body with three of its six limbs wounded severely, whilst Mum restrained the others with chains of essence threads for Father to deal the final blow.
A pillar of fire rose on his sword, illuminating the tumultuous night as he struck towards the frozen demon. The monstrosity screamed at the top of its lungs, the smouldering flame burning through its thick hide until a gaping wound appeared, far too wide for it to heal.
The townsfolk burst into cheers, clapping their palms at the death of the second Ashhound.
That left only one. While Father went after it, Mum's gaze turned towards the corpse she had left behind. A dozen devourers and corpse flies feasted on the greater demon, prying open its rigid head to devour its core. Even in death, its exterior was too tough to be penetrated. An elite devourer had barely managed it, holding the pulsating dark core in its maw when dozens of golden essence threads twisted their way to puncture its head and fish out a gleaming black core from the skewed canal.
Mum pulled the demon core slowly, holding it before the dozens of demons like a carrot before stowing it within her blessed stone.
The lesser demons could not simply let go of the swift path of evolution. The corpse flies swooped down, the repulsive devourers bolting to rip open her flesh to find the core. They had not learnt a lesson watching others fall.
Mum gazed towards where Father engaged the last Ashhound with the two local Prestigious Class shapers as her essence threads twisted through the surroundings, shredding the horrid creatures one after another.
"She's so great," a voice said from beside me. I turned to find Aleya standing, flanked by her brother. "So strong."
"Ha, Aleya, you're so stupid," her brother said. "Don't you have eyes? It's obviously Sir Jinn who is stronger. Look at his sword."
A smile tugged at my lips as my gaze landed on his fight.
Father faced the last one with the same approach: slowing down the monstrosity by crippling its legs before aiming for its only vulnerability--its neck.
With the help of the two Prestigious Class shapers, he did not find it the least bit difficult. He even pulled the dark robe of his Soulward within his body for fear of overdrawing it as the creature teetered on the verge of demise.
A few others fought at the rear wearing the centurion sets, though they mostly tried not to be too involved in the main conflict. Even the prestigious plates could hardly offset the difference in strength.
Thankfully, there was no need. Within a few minutes, they had completely overturned the disadvantageous situation, almost concluding our plight.
Once the remaining Ashhound learnt of its sure defeat, it suddenly grew sensible and decided fleeing would be better than joining its dismembered brethren. It broke through the ranks of the demons to dash towards the mountain.
There was no way Father was letting it escape after all the hard work.
Done with her work, Mum flew over, impeding its way of withdrawal, when the sword struck from behind.
The last Ashhound fell with a great cry. Once again, the devourers scoured to salvage any blood of the greater demons to satiate their hunger.
It only made it easier to end them.
"Feels like forever," Mother said to Father as her essence threads extracted the core from the monstrosity's head. She smiled softly at him. "Don't think I miss it."
Father returned the smile. "You should rest, while I see about the rest of these raucous flies."
Mother looked at him deeply for an extended moment. "I'll stand guard for a bit more, just in case."
The corpse flies had grown disquiet since the fall of the Ashhounds, though the gluttonous devourers were still growing strong despite their numbers having grown thin considerably. Although the same hunger did impede the corpse flies, they knew when a fight was a losing one. The swarm, at least what remained of it, dispersed in all directions.
Father went after the larger ones. He was not really equipped for an aerial assault, but he did fine, tearing through thier batlike wings before ending their misery. Some did manage to escape after hiding themselves high in the night sky.
Mum stood beside the dome like a guardian, until finally she opened a hole, leading the townsfolk in.
"Tough night for all of you," she said, greeted by thousands of pairs of gazes.
Then they exploded into applause and various words of gratitude. She waved them off before I jumped at her in an embrace.
"Sorry, I'm a little late."
I inspected her closely. There were no visible wounds, no smears of blood, or even dirt marring her exterior, though her face was paler than usual. For all the power she had, even for a Fabled Class, it was rare for her to exert even a fraction of what she did in the last hour.
"You have advanced," Mum said, a frown creeping onto her brows.
"I did," I said, dislodging from her embrace. "Only a few minutes ago. It's called Wayfarer. Have you heard of it?"
"Wayfarer," Mother muttered, looking me from head to toe. Her frown only deepened. "Did you manage to merge your attributes?"
I nodded. "Went for simple Arcane as we had discussed. Two of my physical attributes merged to advanced, and I've gotten another greater attribute as well."
"Sounds like you got what you wished for." She tousled my hair affectionately.
"You haven't even heard the end of it."
I cut myself off, feeling a cold chill creeping over my spine. Even the hairs on my arms stood on end, my gaze turning towards the disquiet mountains.
A collection of bone-chilling shrieks and cries fell over the valley as though what we had been through so far was merely a preamble.
"Blighted ashes," Mum swore. "Looks like the night is not over yet."
She turned towards me. "What were you saying?"
My gaze was fixated on the mountain, unsure of the fear gripping my heart.
A black cover fell over the town, shrouding the night sky and the ugly moon. The ward over the sacrarium remained as the only source of radiance.
"By her burning ashes!" Mother exclaimed, her exterior unsightly.
"Jinn!" she shouted, her voice reverberating through the dome, inducing great panic over the crowd.
Before any response could come, Mum seemed to sense something as she swiftly jumped over me, her arms holding me close as all her essence threads spread to form a ward.
The glaring radiance of the ward blinded me, and before I could orient myself the true darkness came.
The shroud that yawned over Karmel like an omen of death fell down, encapsulating everything in its wake. A great tremor ran through the veins of the realm, ripping apart the things that stitched the world together.
Then one of the eight hallowed columns at our rear crumbled down in gleaming shards.
Comments
jonathan clark
Can’t wait for the rest thank you.
jonathan clark
Crazy
