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211 - The Butcher Reborn Pt. 4 [Sturmblitz]
🕑 Added 2023-03-30 19:00:26 +0000 UTCFloating in cold nothingness.
Bound by bands of starborne steel, at once restrained and kept from falling apart by them.
Unthinking, unfeeling.
Time itself seemingly at a standstill.
Then, a sudden hammer-blow, releasing one restraint.
Another, and another.
This form, no longer broken, but nonetheless insufficient.
Time passed. Change came.
There, in the iron cage which had choked her, the many-fanged blade-spirit once called the Lightning Butcher awoke… And saw that no more was she bound with starsteel bands, and no more did the slightest motion threaten to rip her vessel to pieces.
More hammering. More change. This felt nothing like the pneumatic hammer which had birthed her. Nay, this was… This was like that godsmith’s touch, yet altogether incomparable. The metal of her vessel went unchanged, and yet the vessel changed nonetheless.
A vast sea of shining, golden light flowed in and swirled about her, and above, pale blue aurora sprung into being to shine down upon her from the sky’s purple expanse. Twenty serpentine dragons wrought of jade entered into the thoughtspace, and the graven light of sacrifice also shone in. Then, as if all at once, it became part of her.
Fangs, once splintered, now whole and unbreakable.
The master’s thoughts called to her, and the Butcher heeded the call.
__________________________________________________________________________________
CLANG.
CLANG.
CLANG.
Her chest heaved with exertion.
Every muscle in her body ached.
Brilliant, splitting pain seethed in her head, as if a red-hot blade stabbed straight into her skull. It was no pain of the flesh, but the pain of total spiritual exertion, of strain that would have torn to shreds the souls of others. It also happened to be the most stable anchor for her focus.
If her focus were to waver even an iota, if even one stray thought were to enter her mind, she would ask herself if this was how Red or Victor felt when they pushed their magic to its limits. It didn’t waver.
Each and every Jade Dragon was gone. Spent. Consigned to become part of the Butcher. She hadn’t even noticed how exactly they had vanished, but she was certain that they had been spent when she was being shown places from all throughout space, time, and memory.
Once more, she raised the Brass Stake and brought it down.
Just before it hit, she saw the Skinless One lean forward in anticipation.
CLANG.
The Brass Stake exploded into a million pieces in her hand, and with its annihilation a great flood of golden, draconic essence liberated itself. It was as though the bursting of a hundred-liter tank filled with molten gold, only it emitted no heat and flowed through the air of its own volition. Zelsys in her gut knew that this was only the final one-third of what essence the Stake held; not because she had taken that much from Eisengeist, but because it had been magnified to such a degree by all factors at play. At first it took the shape of a winged serpent, then a wyvern, then a stereotypical dragon, only to twist into the image of a Thundergod and flow towards the Butcher. The cleaver was enveloped for a moment, and the next, Eisengeist’s essence had been consumed.
Northlight erupted upwards from the molten-metal lake one last time, and she was once more in another place, another time.
It was in the midst of a vast throne-chamber, the entire floor polished stone, with numerous columns standing to either side of her. This space alone could house a small city.
Hundreds of men with shaved heads and long single braids stood arrayed before a stairway. Atop it loomed a tree-like, mutton-fat jade throne, dozens of spidery green jade armatures arrayed behind it, with one of them extended out so that its occupant might look at the mirror attached to it. A man sat atop that throne. It was a man with an inhumanly perfect countenance, one divorced from emotion, age, or the tiny blemishes that made a person look like a person. A living wax sculpture. Tian Feng, Xiān Dì, the Divine Emperor.
As she was not truly in that place, she couldn’t feel his aura. For all she knew this could be just another weird unreal vision.
He was speaking Pateirian into the mirror with a dismissive, yet commanding presence, only to freeze.
Then, he stared right through her, furrowing his brow. A look of alarm flashed over his face, something that all of those men seemed to notice, and it was something that terrified them. He called for someone, one of the men scaredly raising his head and answering the call. A barked command later, and the servant ran off deeper into the palace.
The ground gave out from under her. Zelsys fell into the Sea of Fog, and in the next instant found herself back upon that platform, the Forgemother’s blue-flame form in front of her, while the colossus of her physical form had gone, including her hand. The Forgemother’s pure essentia avatar itself stood easily five meters tall, and it looked down at her. The Butcher was gone; not a trace it had ever been there remained. Moreover, she felt something strange in the middle of her back, around the height where she usually wore the Butcher’s sheath. It was a burning feeling just beneath the skin, and that was the least of her concerns. Zel found herself unable to move, or rather, she found that her body moved so slowly it may as well have been still. Time had been brought to a near-halt without impeding her ability to perceive, somehow. Off to the left, she saw the Skinless One; he howled with unsettling, backwards-reverberating laughter, slapped himself on the knee, then vanished in a burst of blood and silver brambles.
“MY WORK IS DONE AND MY STRENGTH IS SPENT TO THE VERY LAST. IT WILL NOT BE LONG ERE I RECOVER, JUST AS A MORTAL REGAINS BREATH, BUT I AM NONETHELESS SORRY FOR PLACING THEE IN THIS SITUATION. THE PLATFORM BENEATH THINE FEET SHALL COLLAPSE, FOR IT WAS MY STRENGTH HOLDING IT IN PLACE. IT IS FORTUNATE THAT THE VERY FACT WHICH PUTS YOU IN DANGER ALSO NEGATES THE VERY HEAT WHICH MADE IT NECESSARY FOR ME TO CARRY YOU OVER THE MOLTEN LAKE.”
“FARE WELL, IRONHEARTED ONE. I SHALL AWAIT WHAT MARK YOU CARVE UPON THE WORLD WITH THIS GREAT WORK.”
Time resumed.
