Chapter 765: The Unmaking

The army of monsters came on like a tidal wave of death.

Celestial dire tigers—now well outnumbering the remaining church members—leapt for the resolved warriors, claws tearing and powerful jaws crunching armour.

Elder fire elementals, charged forward, showering Alex’s enemies in cleansing flame. Elder earth elementals thundered ahead, boulder-sized fists sweeping out, crushing priests and holy warriors with every swing. Elder water elementals engulfed fighters inside their liquid forms, stealing their breaths, keeping them trapped as the fluid was sucked from them, leaving only mummified bodies drifting inside the massive spirits. Elder ice elementals lashed out, freezing mortal forms in place, then shattering them like icicles.

Astral engeli dove like falcons, flaming weapons swinging in blurring arcs. In a storm of holy light and flaming steel, the enemy was reduced further.

Behind them, Bjorgrund charged, unleashing his full power, hacking through their hunters like a ship cutting through rough seas, leaving a path of ruined bodies in his wake.

The Unmaker was like a phantom.

In one heartbeat, she had been standing and merely observing. In the next, she was gone, landing among the enemy. No one—not even Alex—had seen her move.

She embodied destruction.

Her six arms were a blur, weapons flickering around on all sides. Holy warriors fell like frost stricken leaves in a hurricane wind. One moment they were charging at, the next, they were mangled on the ground.

Her tail flicked out, lashing side to side, breaking bodies, its bladed tip shearing metal, flesh and bone like air. Skilled priests and other warriors of the secret church—warriors who’d tried with every divinity and prayer they could call on to stop her—died at her hands as easily as snuffed candlelight.

Alex had been watching the carnage playing out before him, he raised the aeld, levelling it at the First Apostle’s chest and twitching his brow.

Syllables tumbled from his lips. Disintegrating energy streaked for the ancient Chosen, surrounded by a swarm of forceballs seeking to contain him.

###

The world seemed to slow to a crawl.

Gabrian looked on in disbelief. How was any of what was before him even possible? He could not understand how he had lived so long only to see such dark times, only to see his people come to ruin under his leadership.

Yet, it was true.

For hundreds of years, he had led the entirety of Uldar’s hidden church with a kind and even hand. He had cared for the people with compassion and understanding, making sure they lived in harmony with their land, preparing them to fulfil the duties that their god saw fit for them to face.

He had inherited the secret order—one that had existed for thousands of years—after he was welcomed into the fold and given direction. For a time, and a long time at that, they had thrived under his stewardship. He had expanded their training, making them greater warriors than they had ever been in the history of the order.

He’d cared for them, spiritually, ensuring that their faith remained strong, and that their hearts remained true. In some ways, he felt as though he’d helped to raise them. He remembered every face here—through every stage of their lives—having watched them grow from squalling babes, to youths, and then grown servants of Uldar.

Now their lives were evaporating like droplets of rain under a hot sun. Warriors he had helped shape from childhood were being threshed apart, burned and drowned as they called out for their god to save them.

But, as always, Uldar was silent.

Even when Izas—one of his greatest servants—was punctured then peeled apart like pieces of rotten fruit, he had not come down to avenge him. When his own holy weapons—now clutched in the hands of a heathen giant and an evil spirit of war—were turned on his people, he did not snatch them away with his divine will, and then smite down those who had despoiled them.

Even when his ultimate commands were violated—the Fool casting spells and doing violence—he had not intervened.

And Gabrian could not understand why.

As he watched a swarm of forceballs racing toward him, surrounding a beam of disintegration magic, he felt lost, unable to comprehend what it was all for. Had his god turned his back on him? Had he been so incompetent, so unworthy, so foolish, that Uldar could only be driven to disgust and not save his most precious children from such terrible deaths.

After all, who could blame him?

Gabrian had taken an order that had existed for thousands of years, and—in his arrogance—thought he had improved and perfected it. In truth, all he had done was bring it to ruin. Under his stewardship, they had first lost their home, and now their lives. He felt tears burning in his eyes.

The order still had a number of members buried within the ranks of the Thameish army and other groups, but the core members—the backbone who had dwelled in Uldar’s Rise—had followed him to their ruin.

And the worst of it?

It had seemingly all been for nothing. This moment was no epic sacrifice to destroy one of their deity's greatest enemies.

At this moment—it seemed that an errant Fool had caused every bit of this destruction, and would simply win, leaving their order as nothing more than a soon to be forgotten memory.

But, that must never happen. He was Uldar’s ancient Chosen and his First Apostle, he could not give up.

He could not give up until he’d taken the life of this murderer.

His mind snapped into focus.

His arm had been taken and his armour ruined, but he still had his sword and much of his power.

He raised the blade, planning his attack, challenging the Fool, defying the blight on the Heroes. He would cut down those forceballs, slip past the beam then unleash his full magical and divine might against Uldar’s enemies.

He tensed, preparing to act when something struck him from the side, knocking him away as the beam hit the wall where he’d just been, disintegrating it.

Gabrian raised his sword again, poised to smite his attacker, but found the Stalker crouched beside him.

The small fae had moved with shocking speed to save him.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, looking wild eyed. “Get us out of here!”

“What? I—look out!” the First Apostle shouted, calling on his empowered lifeforce, dodging a fireball that had come for him within a barrage of harassing Wizard’s Hands. Air elementals were appearing, lashing out with wind and lightning.

Electricity crackled along Gabrian’s form as the wind stoked embers to flame, scorching his healing skin.

The Stalker pointed at Alex—regretting his choice of quarry—and swept the swarm of stone and blessed soil toward him from all directions, sending him teleporting away. With a twist of his hand, a cloud of debris broke from the rest, surrounding him and the First Apostle in a shield of dust and stone, swirling around them, even as the Fool began pelting them with fireballs.

Beyond the shield, it looked like flame was raining from above.

“What's this?” Alex Roth said. “Being prey isn’t a lot of fun, is it? Don’t you feel like laughing some more?”

He summoned more monsters to swarm them, keeping focused on the pair. Even as he dodged and teleported away from the swarm of debris chasing him, his assault on the Apostle and Stalker continued.

“You know, you're only delaying the inevitable.” Alex called. “I think you’ve got about five seconds before my army finishes turning yours into ground meat, and then the Unmaker, or Bjorgrund, or any one of the elementals you see around you, are going to turn the two of you into a cross between…dust and paste. Keeping this up won’t save you, so why not just stop?” The Fool’s eyes were as hard as steel.

“You're enjoying this!” The First Apostle accused, as he and the Stalker darted through the room, avoiding the barrage from summoned monsters and endless spells. How was the Fool casting so quickly? It seemed like his spells would never end! “You like seeing us suffer!”

The last of his followers were desperately trying to resist the enemy. Almost all were now dead. Gabrian wanted nothing more than to help them, but it was all he could do to keep himself alive.

“You’re right, I am enjoying this,” Alex said. “I like revenge, and I've been waiting a long time for it.”

“Focus!” the Stalker shouted. “Stop trying to play Hero, use that miracle to get us out of here!”

“What?” Gabrian demanded. “Retreat? And make this all for nothing?”

“You see his army? You see that multi-armed thing that has four divine weapons? You see what a monster that teleporting bastard’s become?” the Stalker screamed, his eyes ablaze. “The hunt’s turned against us, and it's turned hard! If we don't leave now, there's no coming back! No avenging your followers, getting new hounds, no new hunts, nothing! Just a one-way trip to the afterworld for both of us! Get us out of here!”

“But we cannot—” Gabrian started.

“Think of Izas!” the fae’s voice was shrill. A fireball exploded close enough to singe the fae’s beard. Gabrian noticed that the Stalker was somehow, suddenly mounted on his moose’s back. He hadn't seen the beast approach; it was as though it had materialised from thin air. He had no time to consider it.

The Stalker continued shouting. “Your friend set up that miracle just for a situation like this, so our lives could be preserved! So that yours could be preserved! He's dead, but don't let what he's done be in vain! We can't win this!”

Part of Gabrian wanted to curse at the fae.

Another part knew the wisdom of his words.

But there was no time to weigh what to do, he needed to move.

He whispered. “Strike at the Fool on my signal.”

“What signal, you—” the Stalker started.

“Don't argue! You'll know it when you see it,” the First Apostle hissed.

He raised his only hand, beginning the words of an incantation. The power of the Chosen flowed through him, lending him speed and power. Below, the last few of Uldar’s holy warriors were falling, bloodied and broken.

By the time his spell was complete, there would be none left.

But, he would avenge them.

He would avenge them if it was the last thing he ever did.

Even as the Fool’s spells continued to lash out, he finished his incantation. Waves of power exploded in all directions, weaving into the chamber’s walls, floor and ceiling.

Stone rattled.

A quake began rumbling through the walls.

Cracks snaked along them.

Rock rained from the ceiling. Dust billowed in clouds.

“This place will come to ruin!” the First Apostle shouted, his voice a promise.

###

“What in all the Hells is he doing? Has he finally gone mad?” Birger cried, as all around him Kelda’s lab shook.

Glass instruments rattled.

Metal machines clanged together.

Dust wafted from the ceiling.

It felt like the giant’s teeth were clattering in his head.

Through every portal-window, Birger could see the sanctum vibrating with the First Apostle’s power. His energies were rampaging through the sanctum, and the destruction kept spreading.

“Stop it!” Burger shouted, though he knew the leader of the hidden church would not hear him, or care if he did. “You're going to bring the whole sanctum down on all our heads! You're going to destroy everything! Dammit!” the old giant looked desperately at the controls.

He activated the goddess statues, trying to fire on the First Apostle and fae, but they were too fast.

Much too fast.

“What do I do?” Birger looked back at Kelda’s body.

His old friend lay in silence within her glass coffin, so well-preserved, it looked as though she would sit up at any moment, wearing that easy smile of hers. If she could sit up, he knew she wouldn’t be smiling now, she’d be incensed at these invaders inside her home. He could imagine her leaping to the controls, revealing some hidden function of her sanctum that would turn these interlopers to dust.

But she never would: they were on their own.

###

“Have you lost your mind?” Alex shouted at Gabrian as the sanctum shook.

He could feel frustration growing.

They were close.

So very close.

But the fae and Apostle were so fast: just as they couldn't pin him down, the same was true for them. The holy man had conjured an earthquake spell that was going to bury everyone in the sanctum.

Or maybe he only wanted to bury Alex’s army, and give himself and the fae cover to escape.

Either way, he had to stop them.

He turned his attention to the earth elementals as rock and dust flew, blocking his vision. “Go into the stone!” he shouted. Use your power over the earth to quiet the rock until his spell passes. “I want you to—”

Suddenly, Alex felt a sharp sting on his arm and raised it, examining the skin.

A gash, with grains of soil clinging to a jagged wound, was there.

Alex knew in an instant.

This was not good.

Small bits of rock and grit with sanctified soil embedded in it, had caught him, breaking through his greater force armour and the skin beneath.

“Oh shi—” he started.

The interdiction slammed into him.

###

Author's Note

Hello FORTY-FOUR cool fools, almighty chosen, wise sages, and mighty champions! Thank you for your support!

You know what was wild about that part with Gabriel and the Stalker? It felt like they were the desperate people trying to get away from the unstoppable villain lmao.

How our boy has grown.

Cya tomorrow!