Brent Stinebaker
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II-49 The Hound of the Withered Moon
🕑 Added 2025-01-09 15:51:13 +0000 UTCDeath and oblivion are not the same. For all wish to rest, but few wish to cease, and the idea of an end is not quite the same as being nothing at all…
-Hound of the Withered Moon
II-49
The Hound of the Withered Moon
A pillar of ash-colored ice spread down from the pawing limbs of the Hound, descending into the fathomless abyss that awaited Wei and all the others. The God of Death loomed over them, its armored form shining like a dying star, radiating spirit-piercing cold rather than the soothing caress of warmth.
Their body seemed almost crystalline in design, but upon closer examination, their form seemed cracked—assembled from pieces of jagged glass. Serrated glaciers jutted out from the Hound’s back, under its face, and along its misshapen arms. With its metallic dog-like skull, the Bastard’s face revealed itself. His features were contorted in a permanent grimace, and the young master flinched as he felt agony seep forth from the man’s spirit.
Aside from its four paws, it sprouted two humanoid arms that clenched a massive blade encoiled by colors of greenery and life. Fresh water bled from the blade and burrowed into the Hound’s chest. Between them warred a clash of Essences and Concepts. A small fragment of life contended with an avatar of death, but rather than being snuffed out, it endured, and it continued to glow.
They served as a contrast for each other. Definition — but also a source of continued growth.
Meanwhile, the coldness of a winnowing winter hissed out from the Hound’s vacant eye-slits in gushes of steam.
With each passing second, the world grew colder and colder, and the young master felt his strength leave him, felt the precipice draw close. Wei tried to move, but he found his body broken, felt his muscles laden with the weight of frost. He was an ant trying to lift the weight of a mountain on his back—straining to do the impossible before he finally slid off the edge…
Source: [3/600]
Ambition — 241
But he couldn’t give up.
Ambition — 301
He didn’t know how. And it was not his way. He would not succumb to the cold. He would not go into the dark. Not without a struggle. Not without a fight.
Wei snarled as he managed to force a limb out from the numbing waters. The effort was nigh-impossible, but he managed it. Against even his straining sanity, he managed it.
Ambition — 332
The Hound shifted their attention, and Wei felt the temperature of the river carrying him drop even further somehow. Parallel to him, the other rivers carrying the rest of his disciples crackled as they froze over entirely, bringing the others to a sudden stop. Wei didn’t know what was happening, but the fact they weren’t rushing forward to the edge anymore pleased him.
He didn’t know if he could forgive himself if he allowed one of them to die. Failed them like he failed his mother and his sect. Failed them like he did Ellena.
“Wei! Get up! You will not shame us with this death! You will not!” The Shell’s voice grew louder inside him. The Skill had been screaming at him for some time. He was simply too brutalized to hear them. “Get up! Get out of the water! Face the Hound!”
The young master gave a cry of exertion as he materialized his scythe. Unlike the others, he was still moving, gliding forward to the end. He tried swinging once, but the muscles in his arm refused to respond. The limb nearly splashed back into the frigid waters, and a draining cold dug into his armpit and trailed up his elbow again. Wei clenched his teeth. He tried again. This time, he forced every last ounce of control he had left into the limb. He swung. He cut. He hewed at the distance between himself and the shore.
Attention: Admin-Entity Detected
Adversarial Concept detected
Wei blinked the notification away. He didn’t know what an “Admin-Entity” was nor what rival Concept he had to contend with. Instead, he just cut and cut again, trying to shatter the distance between him and the near shore. Unlike cutting distance back in the Claimed Hells, this was like trying to whittle his way through a stone wall using a wooden spoon. The edge of his river loomed just two meters away.
Again and again Wei cut, harder, stronger, fiercer even as the ice tore what little heat remained in him.
He kicked his legs as best he could, but in scant seconds he found his boots scraping over a sheer drop. Wei swung again. Something was breaking. He was close. And through it all, the Hound simply continued watching.
Until its attention was torn away by a massive pillar of black-gold flame stabbing high into the air a few rivers over. At the same time, Wei’s scythe struck and pierced through the thick membrane of this realm. The space between him and the shore ceased to be. Wei jerked out from the waters, materializing a few meters above ground. When he landed, his legs gave out from under him, and the young master let out a ragged cry. Wei crashed down on a shore composed of ash and snow. The scythe in his right hand flickered and faded as he closed his hands and grasped fistfuls of ash and snow.
He tried to rise, tried to compel his body to do anything, but his limbs refused to listen, and his body simply kept shaking.
Resisting [Gravechill] with Aspect of (Fortification)
>Failed
Fortification > 50
[100/100] Aspect Advancements to Core Ascension
Core Ascension Available
Wei barely noticed the flashing Core Ascension notification as his thoughts turned to slurry and darkness crept across his vision. He had never been this cold before. It felt like even his spirit was about to freeze, like his Source would crystallize within his being. Clenching himself, Wei summoned his Pale Fang and tried to ignite what remained of his celestial flame. Yet, only sparks and embers flashed around him, lasting only for a heartbeat against the onslaught of the building cold.
“Ah. Fascinating. Not only is my realm graced by a Concept-Breaker, but also a Scion of Ignium. Welcome, Daughter of the Destroyer and Maker. Welcome to the Precipice of the Final End.”
The Hound’s words slipped across the surface of Wei’s mind like oil. He heard the words, but couldn’t grasp their contents. He curled in on himself, his Fortification growing at a rapid rate against the Gravechill effect.
[107/100] Aspect Advancements to Core Ascension
Fortification > 57
“Get up!” The Shell roared.
Wei placed a hand against the ground and bit back a pained cry as his entire arm turned into a column of pain. He tried to push, but the rest of his body wouldn’t cooperate, and it hurt to breathe, to keep his eyes open.
[111/100] Aspect Advancements to Core Ascension
Fortification > 61
“Wei!” Another voice called out to him. Another presence. He turned his head, and even the simplest of movements proved to be a gargantuan struggle. An Essence Signature drew close. Level 70 or so? Something like that. But there was also something else. A growing aura of absolute destruction, of flames unfettered, of an urge to shatter and break and destroy, carrying with it flashes of infernal-consumed battlefields. Yet, there was more than ruin there. There were images of a hearth fire, the crackling voice of a forge.
And finally, warmth. Warmth and strong arms that embraced him, that drew him close and shielded him from the invasive cold.
“No. Let him linger as he was. It is good for him. It is how his like adapts to adverse effects.”
“It’s okay,” Agnesia whispered, speaking down to Wei. Her breath was labored as well, but she was burning, her body like a hot spring. She rubbed at his arms with her hands, but when he blinked his eyes, he saw scales crawling over her hands. Scales and claws and volcanic veins coursing with living flame. “It’s okay,” she said again, drawing him tighter. “I have you. I can—-I can banish the cold.”
Wei tried to respond, but only managed a wheezing cough. This was—
“Pathetic,” his Shell said, standing over him. “Pathetic that you allowed this to happen. What kind of patriarch allows themselves to be saved by their disciple? A disciple they failed again?”
The young master flinched under the Shell’s glare, but the form of his Skill was covered by Agnesia’s face as she leaned over. A bloody gash ran at an angle along the leftmost corner of her temple. Flecks of infectious blood tried to burrow into her, but boiled away into crimson steam. Streaks of gold were running down the length of her hair now, overtaking the black to serve as highlights for her pale white. Her face was gaunter than ever before, features stronger.
She looked… strong. And worried.
He tried to speak again, but only a groan escaped.
“It’s alright,” she said, though she didn’t fully sound confident in her words. “You’ll be alright.”
“He’ll be better if you release him and let him adapt to the Gravechill,” the Hound interjected. The God of Death spoke with a voice that sounded like howling winter wind. Agnesia shot the Hound a quick glance and took on a defensive posture, casually picking Wei up in her arms in a bridal carry.
“No,” Wei managed, rasping.
“What?” Agnesia went stiff. “Are you hurt? Is something—”
“No… like your bride. Over your shoulder. Let me… lean…”
It took her a few moments to comprehend his complaint. “That’s what you’re concerned with right now? That?”
“I still have my pride,” Wei forced through gritted teeth. They weren’t chattering as much anymore. Feeling was returning to his limbs. He thought he could stand, or would stand soon.
“No,” Agnesia said, bouncing him in a bridal carry regardless. “It’s harder for me to run, and you’re small enough that it’s convenient.”
“I wish I could kill you with my spears,” the Shell mumbled. “It would spare us both the humiliation.”
“I’m not… small,” Wei protested.
The sound of a heavy foot descending upon shattering ice crackled from somewhere. Agnesia took a step back, her breath catching. Around her, a draconic specter began to flare, and waves of heat swelled over Wei. That was nice. “Turn me. I want to see him.”
This time, Agnesia did as he requested.
The Hound approached them, descending on steps of shattering ice. The face of the Bastard was twisted in a wordless cry, and Wei noticed something else: the river he escaped was flowing in the direction of the Hound. It was like they were a singularity for death, their being exuding an undeniable gravity that caught all those close to the end in its embrace.
“Peace, Daughter of Ignium. I do not intend you harm. Nor can you defy me, paltry as you are right now.”
“I haven’t begun to defy you,” Agnesia growled. Her flames grew brighter, “and unless you want to find out if you burn well, I suggest you let us go.” Her voice was thick with fear but also bravado. Her eyes were darting as well, doubtlessly searching for her mother amidst all the other frozen disciples.
Wei wondered why he and her were able to break free of the river while the others were compelled into stasis? Was it just power? Was it the will of the Hound? Or perhaps his System and her bloodline.
The Hound let out a low chuckle. “Rage, then, little flame. Rage, because that is what you are, and that is the will of your progenitor. Rage, and—” The God of Death came to a halt. “Oh. What fascinating day. And who might you be, intruder?”
A magenta glow spilled over Agnesia’s shoulder and through her hair, and John Bishop stepped right past her.
“Just an interested third party. And someone who knows that gods can be broken.” The Trespasser shot Wei a teasing look. “So. Your little adventure didn’t go as planned, huh?”
Humiliating himself before the Shell gnawed, but being embarrassed before Bishop stung. “It was… nothing. This is a setback. Nothing more. The fight was not done. The enemy hasn’t won.”
John Bishop snorted. “Yeah. Sure. Anyway. Hound of the Withered Moon, right?”
The Hound inclined its head at Bishop. “You slipped in. Through the girl’s mind. Ah. Wise. But it offends me how you enter my realm without my assent.”
“Yeah? Well, I might gotta way to apologize for that. A service that I can render. A few people that have taken your gifts and avoided paying your final price, if you catch my drift.”
A tendril of Psionic Essence left Bishop and reached out for the Hound, but they froze within the God of Death’s vicinity, and for the first time, Wei watched Bishop flinch from pain.
“Hm. Yes. Those… A novel approach: Offending me with gifts prepared. I would ask how you found them, and how you learned of their arrangement with me.”
“And I’d ask you to let the kids go and be on their way. Sparing them won’t cost you much. And you already have an offering to take.”
“The Souldrinker? No. My Scion is feeble. He failed to bring them close enough in bondage or defeat.”
“I’m not talking about the Souldrinker. I’m talking about another offering. One prepared in advance for a moment like this.”
Wei was lost. He had no idea what Bishop was talking about anymore, and for a moment, neither did the Hound. Then, the ground began to crack, and the flowing rivers that once rushed toward the edge were run through by a new channel. A new channel that carried a single figure along its currents.
Ellena.
“Ah. I see. Is this your doing as well? I do not sense in you such power.”
“Nah. Something Mepheleon had planned. A gift and an apology. He had someone tell me to tell you he’s ready to make up what he stole from you all those years ago.”
The Hound’s attention was no longer on Bishop, though, instead, he was entirely focused on Ellena, who was tumbled and twisted unconsciously in the waters as she came to him.
Suddenly, Wei found himself rushing toward the Hound as well. For a moment, he thought he was standing under his own power, rushing forth by his own volition. Then, he heard the growl, the bestial snarl coming from Agnesia’s throat. “No! Stop! Don’t you dare—”
“What is this?” the Hound muttered. “The Harbinger’s gift… is someone already dead?”
Whatever else Agnesia had to say died in her throat.
“What?” Wei choked out. “What do you mean ‘already dead’?”
With a casual gesture, the waters flowed upward, forming a bridge, and Ellena’s limp body came to a final rest in the Bastard’s grasp. The Queen was—she was lifeless. Without a spirit. Without any sign of life and devoid of everything but something else.
The place where she was beheaded, now a cradle for an odd construct — a hidden spiritual shape behind the trailing scar.
“I mean I’ve seen her before,” the Hound said. “Have claimed her for my abyss. Yet, not entirely. Yet something of her remains.” The God of Death turned his attention to Agnesia and Wei. The coldness dropped a few degrees further, and even the girl’s flames began to die. “Oh. You didn’t know. Poor children, but pawns in a greater game.”
Comments
Truck69kun
Ouf that's a gut punch alright.
Dar-Angol
Hey it's good shit, what'd you expect!??
Brent Stinebaker
More coming. Stay tuned.
Dar-Angol
The chapters to small, good but too quick to read, I burned thru it in seconds, need more TTF....
Dar-Angol
Oh man that's unfortunate it had to happen that way, but she was already dead, held just a breath from the final end, by Mepheleons Power...
