[Omen of the Witchblade] Chapter 103 — Symphony of Rage

With the Abhorrent One and the Lady in Chains unaware of their position, the Elders had an easy time finding the abomination that was the thirteenth Magi. She foolishly held onto a ring lingering with the Vile Covenant’s magic, making it easy to track her down.

Wearing the faces of a party they had killed upon entering, the Elders moved without suspicion around other groups of humans, like wolves in sheep’s clothing.

Yok’sal pointed out the high value targets as they went. Those who would reap the greatest amount of Battle Points and put their group back on top.

They were all after the [Golden Voucher] and [Revival Scrolls], but there were more prizes to be had than system-derived trinkets.

“Number three!” Yok’sal called out, stabbing a woman in the kidney and twisting viciously.

“Two!” Semthra called as she pulled her daggers out of two large men in heavy armor. They had been so focused on helping the feeble and wounded woman they had dragged out from the monsters that they never saw her deception coming.

Kaz’kul struck from the shadows, taking a man out with a dagger to the throat while Shae’kathoth ran the last remaining member of the group through.

With another adventuring group slain at the base of an odd natural series of shelves, the Elders were one step closer to achieving their plans.

A young woman with a streak of pink in her blonde hair stared in horror, poorly hidden behind an outcropping of rock. Semthra motioned to her, glancing at Yok’sal questioningly.

He shook his head. “She’s worthless. Leave her.”

They climbed the natural shelves until they reached a small alcove where they could take shelter. With only four members in their party, they needed to pick their battles carefully. Already they had catapulted themselves up to the third rating simply by killing other groups.

Waiting in the shadows, they watched as the two Magi groups split up. Yok’sal snarled quietly to himself. If they had just done that from the beginning, the thirteenth’s interference wouldn’t have mattered.

Seeing their targets exposed, with their gazes trained on the wave of flying creatures descending upon them, Yok’sal motioned to their targets. Yok’sal would take out the abomination, the thirteenth Magi that never should have been, Kaz’kul would claim his prize, while Semthra and Shae’kathoth would take out the werewolf before she could attain a lesser Heightening.

The human was of no consequence. His life force was weak and feeble already. He wouldn’t pose any threat.

Yok’sal held up a hand damp with the salt sweat of the ocean deep. They had to time this perfectly.

The golden points of light around the abomination’s brow vanished. She gasped and looked up to the higher shelf, cursing.

Yok’sal glanced at the ratings and grinned to himself. The other group had pulled ahead. There would be no better time than this!

That deranged bastard, Kaz’kul, was too eager by half. He rushed out faster than the rest of them and seized his opportunity before the others could get to their targets.

Kaz’kul, with one hand wrapped tight on the knife’s bloody hilt, clapped his free hand to the Mad Mageking’s face to muffle his cry of pain.

He needn’t have bothered. The Mageking was made of sterner stuff. The man grunted as the knife went in and severed his spinal cord.

Kaz’kul didn’t want to kill him. Not unless he had to. His Covenant could use this man, but not in his present state. This Magi was too tame, too controlled.

He could be molded, however.

“You’re my prize, sonny!” Kaz’kul whispered, wearing the face of another combatant thanks to the man beside him.

Thomas grunted, held up his hand and still tried to attack him! What grit!

Aspect Skill: [Sunspear]

Flames seared the skin on Kaz’kul’s face, blinding him in one eye and bubbling his skin with delicious agony. They only served to prove that this man already had the Flame within him.

He wouldn’t need to repair the flesh when he shed this feeble shell as soon as their plans reached fruition.

What a wonderful specimen you will make!

Kaz’kul cackled in Thomas’ ear and tapped a sharp ring, beading it with his blood. He twisted the ring around and clawed it across Thomas’ face to add his blood to the mix, triggering the magic.

The golden jewel flashed, and Thomas was imprisoned in the ring. Kaz’kul smiled, half his face scorched black. One good eye focused on the tiny form in the ring’s jewel.

“You will thank me for this,” he whispered tenderly. He nearly swooned, realizing belatedly that his wounds were far more severe than he first thought. He turned to his tentative ally. “Shae’kathoth, I have wounds!”

Shae’kathoth had gone for the human first instead of his intended target. The man was closer and Kaz’kul had already screwed up by attacking the Warmage first. He glanced at Kaz’kul and recoiled from the man’s grim visage. He wasn’t just wounded; he was on death’s door.

There was no healing that. Not without a haven.

An otherworldly screeching howl blasted out like a shockwave, ripping into the fraying edges of reality. Monsters succumbed to the Guilty dread pouring out from the lesser Heightening.

Shae’kathoth turned to see his doom.

We were so close!

He was the first to break rank. Shae’kathoth was nothing if not a survivor. He hastily stabbed the boy and threw down the lifeless body in an attempt to slow down the grief maddened creature transforming before his eyes.

The multiverse-made weapons began to fuse into bony claws. Red burning fur erupted from her skin, covered in painted sigils of primordial design. To the cacophony of breaking bones, Gwen turned into an even fiercer, upright wolf beast obscured in a steaming, hazy colorless aura.

Racial Ability: [Werewolf Rage Break]

Shae’kathoth turned and fled, seeking a way out of what was soon to be a charnel house.

Yok’sal and Semthra shouted at him, but he was already slipping into the throng of monsters too intent on the scent of fresh blood to bother with a creature that could mask himself like Shae’kathoth.

***

Tired and weary, Mel threw everything she had at the barrage of flying monsters descending upon them. She needn’t have bothered. Thomas’ specialty was group kills. In many ways, he was her opposite.

He attacked at range while she was up close and personal. She was better at dealing with one powerful foe while Thomas could cull entire lineages with a snap of his fingers.

Mel just happened to glance back at him to see an assassin put a knife in Thomas’ back and pull him into that ring of his. She shouted, but her voice was nothing compared to the scream of savagery that came from Gwen.

To the side, Heath’s body was tossed to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Mel did the dreadful algebra in her head and picked her target.

She pulled out her [Primeval Brew] and drank it as she rushed the single fleeing coward. If Heath and Thomas were already dead and Gwen was transforming, it was up to her to make sure nobody got away.

Her blood-infused [Windstorm] spun to life around Mel, empowered to new heights from the [Primeval Brew].

[Windstorm]: Enhances Sense, movement speed, and wind-based skills while reducing the effects of earth-based skills.

The enhanced speed from [Windstorm] and agility from the brew, allowed Mel to leap through the air, summon her twinblade, and spear the fleeing man through the back two levels down.

Ahh, reminds me of being a Dragoon!

Mel’s bones rattled as she hit the ground with her knee digging into the man’s spine and her twinblade through his shoulder. Monsters surged around them, forcing Mel to drop a black sphere at her feet.

Aspect Skill: [Bane of Tartarus]

The sphere screamed with the souls of the damned as it spread out, burning and scorching any creature caught within. Mel managed to buy herself enough time to flip him over even as the Omen flames scorched him.

The dying man’s face and clothing changed before her eyes. His leather doublet turned into an opulent purple robe made out of countless faces screaming silently in the cloth.

“You must be one of those eldritch Lormar bastards from that top team.” Mel paused for dramatic effect. “Only, not really a top team anymore, are you?” Without meaning to, her laugh turned into a proper witch’s cackle. Thankfully, not an old crone’s.

The man twitched and opened his baleful eyes. He immediately launched into some sort of spellcasting, but Mel was ahead of him. She plunged the twinblade into his neck and twisted, cutting him off in more ways than one.

You defeat [Shae’kathoth (High Copper Rank)].

You gain extra runes of Divine, Mist, Blood, Serpent, and Omen aspect experience.

You gain extra Battle Points.

Mel stared at the Shardscript. Holy shit, that was Shae’kathoth? Man, Hal made him seem like some horrible abomination. I rocked his shit like it was nothing!

Using the confusion of [Bane of Tartarus] to disorient the monsters, Mel jumped back up to the previous level to find three more enemies.

Where the hell did you two–oh, I see we have a Bloodtide bitch ready to die!

A sweaty, pale man covered in silken green robes was in the throes of spellcasting while the woman beside him garbed in the familiar blood-red robes of the Bloodtide threw two daggers at Gwen as she finished her transformation. A third man, in threadbare yellow robes that somehow hurt her eyes to look at, was staring at Gwen in horror.

Of course, that horror could be from the shock of having half his face burned off.

Somebody’s cosplaying as Two-Face this Halloween.

He pulled out a wand of bone and pointed it at Mel just as she landed, but Gwen surged forward with the speed of a red furry bolt of lightning. With a single swipe, she took what was left of the yellow-robed man’s face off.

Then viciously shredded what remained.

Daggers struck Gwen’s steaming fur, but didn’t dig as deeply as they should have. She barely seemed to notice them.

Mel snarled and focused on the defenseless Bloodtide. [Omen Mark] flashed above her head.

***

Semthra looked up, seeing the doom that Mel had revealed to her, then she looked into the emerald eyes of the woman who haunted her dreams.

If not for this foul creature, the Bloodtide and Goretide Covenants would have been at the height of their power with the Abhorrent One and the Lady in Chains dead! Instead, they had to beg and borrow scraps from the other covenants.

“You faithless wretch! Why don’t you just die like your idiot friends?!” Semthra screamed, pulling out two more daggers from the folds of her clothing.

Yok’sal stepped back from the furious exchange as the thirteenth abomination rapidly overwhelmed Semthra’s feeble defense. Semthra had run her mouth for the last time, it would seem.

Even if she was able to extricate herself from Mel’s furious onslaught, she would succumb to her wounds.

Snapping his fingers, Yok’sal created a gateway he had assigned to Em’trath’s care.

A line of blue light turned and stretched to create a doorway. Em’trath stood in front of it in cleaner robes than he remembered. Yok’sal shook his head and motioned to the battle. Soon either the werewolf or the thirteenth Magi were bound to notice him.

He needed to overwhelm the pair. Fifty loyal Copper soldiers should do it.

“Release the hounds!” Yok’sal said victoriously.

Em’trath took a long, lingering glance at the battlefield and nodded. “As you wish, sir.”

Yok’sal turned and snarled at the impudent man. He would get his once this was over. He was long overdue to be replaced, anyway.

Vile Covenant members rushed out of the gateway as Em’trath stepped to the side. Yok’sal had been counting on overwhelming forces, but when the green-robed individuals stopping coming through, he counted only eight men and women.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Em’trath smiled from beneath the cowl of his hood. “You have your most cherished and loyal adherents, sir. Every move you have made has led to ruin. It is time for a change in leadership. I cannot have you poisoning the good men and women who are under my command.”

The gateway vanished, leaving Yok’sal and eight others stranded and cut off from the bulk of their forces.

Before they could get over the shock of being thrust out into the cold, the juggernaut of a werewolf barreled into the eight Coppers, crumpling the line instantly. Claws ripped and tore through the soldiers’ armor with no resistance, crushing and breaking to the symphony of rage.

The beast was unstoppable. It didn’t matter how many weapons struck it.

A black sphere of mind-melting darkness dropped over them, followed by the screams of the damned as Omen scorched and warped their minds until they saw demons everywhere they looked.

Aspect Skill: [Bane of Tartarus]

Against two Magi, Yok’sal and his eight most loyal subjects might have prevailed. But they were no longer alone. The commotion had brought the other Magi like flies to a corpse.

This was why I wanted them kept apart! Yok’sal screamed in his mind.

The Magi bickered and fought like children, but when one of their own was wounded they closed up tighter than a vault door to repel any attacker.

I may die, but I’ll take you out if it’s the last thing I do! Yok’sal raised his sinuous dagger and charged Mel’s exposed back.