Malcolm Tent
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Wish upon the Stars chapter 599
🕑 Added 2024-04-08 23:56:13 +0000 UTC“This is bad.” I said bluntly to Callie and the others. “Like, worse than most things. On a scale of one to ten this is like a fifteen.” I knew that because I could see Zeke standing up there. I could hear him talk. And he didn't sound confident or laid back. He sounded ANGRY.
That wasn't good. If Zeke was angry he was affected, which meant he was worried, and if Zeke was worried, it was because he might lose.
Which didn't seem…possible. Zeke was Zeke. He was an irresponsible drunk who never took anything seriously, but he was also a supreme badass who never lost a fight. Forgetting that if he lost we would all probably die, HE would die. I didn't want to lost my uncle. I almost tried to tell him to run, to leave me and go get Chelsea out of here, or to take Callie and the others and let the Duke have me.
But…I didn't. Because it wouldn't do any good. We'd all been party to his son's death and he'd come for all of us. Maybe not Bethy, because there had to be a limit to the amount of revenge crazy someone could be, but running would just leave an opening for him to use.
“Stay in the shield.” I told the others seriously. “He's an A-ranker with probably some mobility Skill. There's nowhere we can reach that is safer than here.”
I tried to think of some way to help. Maybe some wishes or something…but this guy was so far out of my league we weren't even playing the same game, and even stacking the strongest wishes any of us could make was unlikely to slow him down for even an instant.
All I could do was watch, helplessly, and hope that Zeke could pull off another miracle. I'd seen him fight up before, and he could do it again.
Staring hard for a moment, the Duke sat stoically before nodding. “I am Duke Crassus Tolbert, third son of Pericles Tolbert. Your charge is guilty of slaying my only son.”
I glared up at him, so angry that I didn't even bother to keep quiet in the face of overwhelming power. “He was your kid? You know he killed your daughter right? Do you even care?”
“Be silent, boy!” Hissed the Duke. “You know not of what you speak. Of course I knew. My son was not as devious as he thought himself. What he did…it went beyond the everyday cruelties of our house. It was a monstrous act.”
I threw my hands up. “Then why are you trying to kill me? I did you a favor, did you really want that lunatic getting named heir?”
“I knew.” He said simply. “But my wife did not. Would not believe it. Losing our daughter so young nearly broke her. Losing a son would have finished the job. His japery was enough for her to hold onto, and so I allowed it.”
I gestured around us. “And all this?” I demanded. “The stone lions, the murder attempts on Camden?”
“Don't mistake me boy.” He said coldly. “My disdain for my son was founded in his senseless cruelty. Killing a child, your own sister, it's an abomination. Because a child is no threat. No competition. Killing my nephew is a justified course of action.”
I was incensed, and about to respond, when a web of dark chains erupted from the ground, wrapping the Duke tightly in black metal. He frowned and started to strain at them, but looking close I could see something terrible about the chains. Something hungry. Just like the fight with the elf archer, my uncle was stacking the effects of two masks together.
The conceptual erosion, the decomposing and rotting, it didn't effect the chains, but strongly impacted the Duke. His eyes widened, hissing in outrage, and his eyes flashed as his blade danced out, taking apart the chains like a hot knife cleaving butter.
Beneath the metal, I saw his clothing burned and tattered, and quickly fading burns on his skin from the energy.
“Was that a-” his mockery was cut off as an arrow the size of a bus, flickering with the white flames of purification, slammed into him from above. There was still dark energy gathered in the air from the chains, and like before, the two colliding energies detonated, exploding in a massive cloud of unchecked destruction.
Zeke, who I'd though had been standing across from the Duke, stood a few dozen feet above us, drawing back a familiar bow, specifically the one the elf archer had used during our trip to the ruined soul temple.
The version of Zeke we'd been talking to just hung there at the edge of the cloud silently, and I grinned as I realized Zeke had put my distraction to good use.
I grinned up at the cloud, ready to see a corpse or a seriously injured Duke, but my smile dropped off my face as I took in the scene before me.
The Duke stood impassively, hand at his side gripping his sword. His other arm was raised, and while it was definitely burned and bloody, it seemed to be the only part of him that had taken any damage.
“Fucking Duellists.” Spat Zeke in annoyance. “Don't think twice about giving up your off hand. I thought I'd at least remove the damned thing.”
The Duke examined his arm. “This will be expensive to repair.” He said, in a voice like someone discussing the weather. “I suspect you've got enough treasures on your person to compensate me, however. You can take pride in dealing such an injury to me.”
Zeke chuckled. “Oh I'm not done yet. Did you think that was all I had?”
The Duke gestured to Zeke's face, “I think you've overdrafted at least one of your masks. I can see the cracks from here. Had I to guess it was those chains. I suspect they weren't built to support the all consuming hatred of a goddess.”
This wasn’t going well. That had been one of Zeke’s biggest punches, and somehow I didn’t think his mask on face trick would work this time. I was pretty sure that arrow had actually been THREE masks, one of them A-rank and it had barely done any damage at all.
Drawing his sword, the Duke performed a fencer’s salute to my uncle. “You’ve proved yourself a worthy foe. But I’m afraid this is over.”
There was a sudden absence of a form, too fast to even be considered a flicker of motion, and an explosion of force that shattered both the flaming sword construct and the shield it was stuck in.
I shot a panicked glance from the fragmenting light up to my uncle, and sighed in relief as I saw him still standing. Hanging in the air, my uncle had a familiar block box playing with red lightning in front of him. Chains of enshrining darkness wrapped the box like a magic trick, and plunging right through the middle of it was the Duke’s sword.
Whatever the thing was made of, it had punched clean through, but stopped inches from Zeke’s chest, though it looked like he was having trouble holding it in place.
I’d seen him use that box to ricochet attacks from high level bishops, and that was without the chains. The Duke looked impressed. “I’ve rarely seen such a powerful application of B-ranked Skill.” He praised. “It’s a shame to have to kill you. I’m imp-” He didn’t get to finish with his comment as another arrow speared down from above, and the Zeke holding the box vanished, leaving it floating in midair.
Then the box came apart, and I looked up to see it appear in the hands of another Zeke. Calmly, almost in slow motion, Zeke drew four masks from the air, and slapped one of them on top of each face of the box. “You were wrong earlier.” He said to the Duke. “THIS is what it looks like when I overload a mask.”
He hurled the box, and it spun towards the Duke, whose eyes widened in fear as he blurred toward it. I assume he wanted to hit it before it detonated on its own, and his sword, now glowing with golden flames, slammed tip first into the rotating box of darkness.
When it pierced the closest mask, there was a wailing screech as black energy started to seep from the object, then from the other side as white flame flickered free of the spot on the other side where it had pierced through. On either side, the other two masks flashed and the box expanded, chains wrapping tightly around the exterior, trapping the Duke inside.
There was a cacophonous boom and the ground lurched, and I saw cracks begging to spread of the box and chains as they disintegrated releasing plumes of ash and smoke out into the air.
Zeke stood above us, panting. “Ow.” He spat. “I hate backlashing my masks like that. Pain aside, do you know how long it takes to replace those?” When there was no answer, he snarled, about to say something else before a colossal flame rapier bisected him.
Or tried to. The blade split another illusion. The smoke cleared, and I saw The Duke glaring up at Zeke, fury etched on his face. He was holding the sword in the wounded arm Zeke had speared last time, and most of his body was raw like he’d had a terrible sunburn times a hundred.
Of his other arm, the one he’d been wielding the sword with before, there was no sign, just a burned stump, and his breathing was heavy and irregular. “Wily.” He snarled, eyes glancing around, trying to find Zeke. “Destroying the masks to increase their output. A resourceful trick, but one only used once. Now you’ve lost a full third of your strength. I may be diminished, but you are much moreso. I can kill you without an arm.”
“Maybe.” Called Zeke’s voice. We all whirled to see him standing on a tree branch, holding a black book with a pair of silver masks on the cover. In his hand was a pitch black quill that shone with a glassy texture. Obsidian. “Or maybe you’re about to to help me make a jump I’ve been meaning to make for a long time.”
The Duke’s face went pale. “Did you just…” He trailed off. “Are you insane? You know the consequences of using an uncertain event as the final page of your Chronicle.” Zeke snapped the book shut, and the air around us changed.
I considered opening my Eye of Revelation, but quickly decided it wouldn’t be wise. The black book started to shimmer and shine, as did the quill. Not with light, but with a metallic luster, an almost liquid effect as the two objects ceased to be Obsidian and began to shimmer into the consistency of Mercury.
That was what gave it away. The book wasn’t quite a singular object, it gave me a powerful feeling of Zeke’s own Skills and legend. His Path. The book was his Path, somehow made manifest, and the Mercury Quill was his SOUL somehow able to manifest itself into the real world.
The change I was seeing was his soul elevating itself from Obsidian to Mercury. Which is to say, A-rank. Whatever Zeke had just done had ranked him up, and I watched the book change and evolve as the Impact poured into him through it, pushing him and reshaping him into something…more.
I’d seen rank ups before, even one to D-rank, but watching someone become an A-ranker was different. I’d never experienced anything like it. It was like watching a star being born. Zeek barely changed physically, but somehow there was so much more of him than there had ever been.
Reaching into his robe, he pulled out a blank mask, then snapped his fingers, and a blood burned arm appeared in his hand. He squeezed and it shattered into a fine powder, which he blew towards the mask in his hand.
The mask glowed golden, then faded back to blank white, and he studied it critically. “Won’t last for more than an hour without stabilizing, but that should do.” His eyes turned up to the Duke as he removed his current mask, revealing a wolfish grin. “Now.” He said, raising the new mask to his face.
There was a ripple and Zeke’s form shifted, leaving behind an exact replica of the Duke himself, only without any of the injuries. “What was that you said about only needing one arm?” The Duke asked himself in my uncle’s voice.
Comments
JJB4345_80_815
Thank you for the chappy! Friendly possible edits: “My disdain for my son was founded in his senseless cruelty. Killing a child, your own sister, it's an abomination. your own sister ==> his own sister Zeke, who I'd though had been standing across from the Duke, stood a few dozen feet above us, drawing back a familiar bow, specifically the one the elf archer had used during our trip to the ruined soul temple. though ==> thought “Or maybe you’re about to to help me make a jump I’ve been meaning to make for a long time.” to to ==> to
Kevin McGuire
Thanks for the chapter and lore drop!
CringeWorthyStudios
Holy shit… No other words. Thanks for the chapter!
