Death: Genesis

Zeke felt the world roil as the sky split open, but even as thick bolts of arcane lightning descended upon the increasingly terrified Knights, he had other things on his mind. Only a few minutes before, Karik had discarded any limitations he might’ve once had, and he’d embraced a transformation skill similar to what Zeke had seen before among the high-level Knights. Yet, with Karik, it was far more powerful, sending his already-imposing physical attributes soaring into even more superhuman territories.

Since then, it had been all Zeke could do to hold on as the man pummeled him. Even in his corrupted colossus form, he could scarcely keep up with the damage, and returning the attacks with blows of his own was largely impossible. Still, he’d managed to get a few hits in, though they only served to verify that the Knight’s durability had increased right alongside his strength and speed.

Even so, Zeke held on because that was his job.

After taking a huge haymaker that he couldn’t dodge, Zeke was hammered into the ground. He used [Shifting Sands], and was unsurprised to find that the ground was just as impenetrable as before. Normally, his domain would have broken whatever skill was responsible, but for whatever reason – probably sheer power – even his vaunted Will was incapable of shattering the barrier.

So, as he had before, Zeke used the time dilation portion of [Shifting Sands] to fling himself away from Karik’s follow-up stomp. He narrowly avoided it, then sprang to his feet. As he did, he swept his hammer out, and miraculously, managed to connect with Karik’s knee. It crumpled to the side, clearly breaking. Yet, only a moment later, a surge of mana washed over the Knight, and his knee popped back into place.

Zeke barely noticed as he rammed his shoulder into the man’s mid-section, sending him flying backwards and into a collection of his own Knights. That was when the storm finally descended, sending hundreds of forking bolts of arcane lightning to slam into the battlefield. The first volley killed many of the weaker Knights outright, but most survived.

The second collection of strikes finished off half of the remaining combatants. And the third managed to halve even that. Over and over, the lightning descended, filling the battlefield with the sound of thunder mingled with the screams of the dead and dying. It only lasted thirty seconds, but it felt like an eternity, even for Zeke and his army, all of which were protected by the red armbands created by the spiritweavers.

Yet, when the spell finally ended, a few of the most powerful Knights remained. They weren’t unharmed. And quite a few were outside the predefined area Sasha and the spiritweavers had created over the past week. But the number of Knights on the field had instantly been decreased by more than half.

And that, Zeke hoped, would be enough to win the day.

Even as the storm faded, the centaurs slammed into the left flank, charging deep within the Knights’ ranks. At the same time, the rangers continued their slaughter of the backlines that had been outside the area of effect for Sasha’s devastating spell.

For Karik’s part, he endured dozens of lightning strikes, but when the air cleared and the dust settled, he was still standing. One of his arms hung limp by his side, and large portions of his armor were melted. The blistering on his face had only worsened, leaving him with a twisted and scarred visage that looked barely human.

Yet, for all he’d endured, he was still alive and capable of combat.

He proved that much when he reached down and picked up his sword. Even as the battle continued to rage, he took his sweet time, even backhanding a kobold that came too close. The legionnaire flew fifty feet before hitting the ground in a boneless heap. At the same time, he flexed his mana, then leveled his sword at Zeke.

The only other warning came from the swirl of mana at Zeke’s feet. He dove to the side, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid a giant blade, glowing with lunar power, erupting from the ground. It clipped his hip, sending him into a twirl followed by a stumble. That’s when the second enormous blade – it was at least five feet across and ten times as long – exploded from the ground. This one nearly took Zeke’s leg off.

The next came only an instant later, but by that point, Zeke was using every point of his explosive strength to throw himself around. However, he was distressed to see that the effect wasn’t localized. Instead, the entire battlefield had been subjected to the eruption of blades. Kobolds and beastkin died in droves, dozens with every passing second until Zeke flexed his Will, shoving as much of it as he could into [Aura of Desolation].

He'd never tried it before, but the effect was devastating for the skill. Blades crumbled into dust, and Karik screamed in incoherent rage as he threw himself across the battlefield, hellbent on finishing Zeke off.

But that’s when his golems showed their worth.

After having been summoned, they’d thrown themselves into the surrounding battle, and since then, they had been forgotten. Not by Zeke, who knew they were more than just soldiers. Instead, the evolution of the skill from [Colossal Legion] to [Colossal Army] came with an additional function, which they brought to bear as Lord Karik thundered across the battlefield.

As one, all ten golems manifested giant javelins. In unison, they cocked their arms back, then tossed them at Karik. The man was too angry and focused on Zeke to even block them. Indeed, throughout the battle, he’d endured a hundred attacks from opportunistic kobolds, and to almost no effect. So, they hit without any issue.

However, instead of clanging off his armor – melted and destroyed as it had become, it was still powerful – they sank deep into his torso. Ten javelins, each tipped with the power of Zeke’s Path of Arcane Destruction, pierced him through. He screamed even more loudly, yet he didn’t slow.

Not at first.

But then, from the other end of the javelins erupted a line of arcane power that snaked out, latching onto the ground. As those mana-wrought chains stretched taut, Karik’s progress came to a screeching halt. He tried to yank himself free, but the chains held. That’s when the collected might of the entire army fell upon him.

Thousands of instances of [Spear of Memories] erupted into being, the light of their expression enough to make Zeke see spots, slammed into the immobilized Knight. At the same time, Zeke summoned [Hell Geyser] again. This time, Karik had no chance of escape. And as injured as he was, with the integrity of his armor having been breached, the damage was even more hellish than before.

When that faded a few seconds later, Zeke used it again. And again after that. He drained his mana down to almost nothing, throwing one [Hell Geyser] after another at the man. Yet, even after four instances of the skill – as well as a barrage of other skills from the kobolds, beastkin, and human members of Zeke’s army – Karik still stood.

“That’s a bit of a misnomer,” remarked Eveline, who’d been silent throughout the battle.

“Can’t disagree with that,” Zeke muttered in his own head as he strode forward. Or rather, he limped. He hadn’t escaped the battle without significant injury himself, and despite the power of [Cambion’s Awakening], he had yet to recover. Indeed, it would be weeks before he completely healed, and that was with the help of the Crimson Spring.

Karik was worse off, and significantly so. The man’s armor was melted onto his body, and what skin shone was ragged, charred, and blistered. He barely even looked human, he was so scarred and burned. One of his arms was missing, and the half of his face that had been ripped off earlier in the battle was nothing but a blackened skull.

He knelt in place, his hand fused to the hilt of his great sword. But there was defiance in his eyes. Anger, too. Zeke knew the man had no intention of surrendering. Retreat was not in his vocabulary. In that way, he and Zeke were made from the same mold.

Zeke approached, hammer in hand, stopping only when he was within ten feet of the fallen Knight. “Surrender, and we will heal you,” Zeke growled, knowing the answer he would get. He felt obligated to extend that much respect, though.

Karik clearly had no interest in respect – or survival in defeat – because he tried to launch himself at Zeke. He got all of a foot before he hit the ground, his face skidding across the charred earth as he came to a stop. What remained of his feet hadn’t moved from the original spot, meaning that Karik’s legs stopped at his knees.

But still, he tried to scrape and claw his way toward Zeke. More troublingly, he was visibly healing with every passing second, which meant that Zeke needed to end the fight before his enemy recovered. Besides, Karik had made his choice. He wasn’t going to surrender, and if Zeke let him live, the powerful Knight was sure to cause no end of problems.

Even so, he hesitated. The man had fought well, and in that battle, there had been a note of mutual respect. It almost felt like a betrayal to kill the man.

It had to be done, though.

That was the grim reality of war, and one Zeke had learned well enough. So, he pushed his empathy and respect for the man aside, hefted his hammer, and brought it down with a herculean blow that harnessed every ounce of strength he could muster. Even then, it wasn’t enough, though it did knock Karik senseless.

As the man writhed in insensate agony, Zeke brought his hammer down again. And again after that. Over and over, he struck the Knight in the back of the head until, at last, his skull was crushed and Zeke felt a wave of kill energy wash over him. Normally, that came with a sense of palpable satisfaction. That was part of the Framework’s system, after all. Positive reinforcement. But in that moment, Zeke felt none of it.

Instead, he experienced only a sense of melancholy that it had been necessary.

Sighing, he looked up to see that the battle had begun to wind down. The kobolds had been hit hard by the man’s field of swords, but their casualties weren’t nearly as extensive as Zeke had first suspected. Still, every death was a blow to both their continued war efforts and to Zeke’s sense of responsibility.

“People die in war,” Eveline said unhelpfully. Then, she doubled down by adding, “You should revel in the fall of your enemies.”

“I’ll revel tomorrow,” he growled.

Then, he ignored her response. Zeke was well aware that his attitude was hypocritical. He’d started the war, after all, and most of the time, he felt justified. However, when confronted with so much death, he couldn’t help but marvel at how needless it was. If only the people of Adontis had refrained from slavery, they might have been able to coexist.

“You know that’s not true. They’re rotten to the core,” said Eveline as Zeke watched his army finishing off the Knights. Taking their cue from their leader, the force refused to surrender. Instead, they’d adopted a “go down with the ship” mentality, fighting until the very end. The kobolds were not afflicted with the same melancholy that had infected Zeke. In fact, they didn’t seem to feel any way about the fighting. They simply did what was necessary without letting emotions get in the way.

The same could not be said for the beastkin or humans. The former fell upon their old masters with gleeful violence, slaughtering the Knights with ruthless fury. Zeke could understand that attitude, given what those beastkin had been forced to endure. He’d been a slave – albeit one with far more freedom than most – and he could well remember the sense of hopelessness that came with that. And he also remembered the feeling of justice when he’d killed some of his captors.

The humans, meanwhile, seemed conflicted. That was also understandable. They had been oppressed – most were peasants, after all – but it was impossible to slaughter one’s countrymen without feeling internal conflict. Even so, they did what was required of them, killing any who stood before them. Yet they did so hesitantly and with palpable regret.

Strangely, the few Knights who’d been freed – led by Adara – were afflicted with no such hesitation. They killed without regret.

“It’s their culture,” Eveline said. “I’ve overheard a little of it. Their sense of self-value is tied to combat prowess. So, there’s no negative stigma associated with defeating and killing an enemy. They revel in it. You could learn something from them, especially if you’re going to keep fighting wars.”

“I’ll do what’s necessary,” Zeke said. And that was true. However, he wasn’t certain he would ever take pleasure in killing other humans. Monsters were fine. And even killing other races didn’t hit him quite as hard. But human beings were different, especially when he was forced to respect their efforts.

Gradually, the battle wound down. As it did, Zeke watched the machine that was his army’s support personnel come to life. Hundreds of spiritweavers and a few beastkin as well as human healers gathered the wounded and administered varying degrees of triage. Seeing that, Zeke began to truly appreciate how much the Crimson Spring was worth. Without it being available, his army had to rely entirely on skills and a few weak potions his novice alchemists had brewed.

The results were not great, and in the wake of the battle, even more of his people succumbed to their injuries. It was almost enough to prompt him to summon his gate, but he managed to resist that urge by reminding himself that keeping the gate on the other side of the labyrinth would save lives in the long run.

Still, it was a difficult argument to accept.

“You don’t have to watch it all,” Eveline said.

“Yes. Yes, I do,” Zeke stated.

And he did, right up until the various healers had done everything they could. By that point, the people who’d managed to survive intact had looted what they could from the battlefield and completed their preparations to return to the tower. As they set off across the Mukti Plains, Zeke recognized that even though they’d won the most recent battle, there were many more to come.

He hoped he and his people would be up to it.