Accidental Reaver

Chapter 209 - 208: Red Sun

A blood pillar pierced into the red sun. Colossal mountain pieces erupted out, bloody swirls multiplied across the dimly lit skyline. Warping bats, crimson demons, and consumed souls claimed divine domination over space. Reaching from the crumbling mountain three miles away from Sylen to the barrier maintained by the Silver Black Tower.

One swordsman in a brown and blue equipment set swaggered toward the monstrous dominion. His two swords swayed with his hips. Casually slicing without a weapon, he unmade a spirit remnant. Musai's sword body began to hum, dicing the flood of power rushing at him. With each step taken, the High Defier's aura rose to meet the apocalyptic blood-weaving mastery. Spiritual sword strikes ribboned against bat-like creatures, soulless humans, and crimson formations.

"The manifestations and illusions of a blood-starved child. You've been allowed one too many escapes, Yuriel, Succoria's lieutenant."

Slowly, Musai drew out his longer sword, plain in design, until sword intent fused into it with liquid flame-lightning. Rising temperatures met against boiling blood. Two massive blood spheres set against the mountain. Yuriel's hungry eyes roamed over Musai. The faint gold at its edges pulsed, calling on the partially Divine Soul. A blood-blessed banner stabbed back into the mountain top, bloody tidal waves swirled around it. A spare Diplomat, a bat-skinned humanoid, took it and flew to the extreme back of the Tide.

A sword slash sprang up, slicing off a wing in an instant. Yuriel blurred, saving the Diplomat a millisecond before it became too crippled. A crack formed in Yuriel's blood-dripped, elongated, dark nails. His black and teal wings unfurled. A blood echo expanded, as Yuriel revealed a cruel smile.

"I must thank you, Musai. Our last meeting decades ago taught me even the sheep come up with ideas worth considering every so often." A crimson spherical power expanded out from Yuriel as the center. "Vampiric Domain."

Sword intent coalesced against Musai's sword, wreathed in dual elements. A Sword Concept folded in on itself. His calf muscle expanded, and he teleported next to Yuriel. The Apostle's reflexes saved his head, but not his shoulder. It slid right off in one smooth cut, the Vampiric Domain around Yuriel condensed, bursting apart to force space between him and Musai. Part of the blood orb instantly regenerated the lost shoulder. The mental damage was permanent, though. The Apostle's vampiric features elevated, fangs out, tapered ears, and crimson liquids mashing into him. Divinity struck out, empowering Yuriel, immediately shedding any pretense of holding back.

Blood clouds summoned crimson abominations, which self-imploded to halt Musai's walk toward the Apostle. Musai sliced the explosive force without an ounce of wasted movement. Yuriel took that instant to delve further into the mountain range that made up the Western Ridge. Landing on previously planted blood tree blessed by Succoria herself, the pale-skinned vampire funneled blood into himself. The red sun affixed its light onto him, and the world itself started to chain down Musai. An ancient blade stirred, making Musai, a sword human, come further to life. His short blade sliced thousands of times, rewriting the reality around him—the Sword Body radiated a Concept, tearing apart Laws.

"The Pact and the Throned have no influence over me."

Releasing a bestial screech, Yuriel's claws met Musai's blades. Their interchanges lasted seconds, but attacks were measured by the hundred. Space broke apart. The blood tree fused with Yuriel, forming a metaphysical roiling tidal ocean of lifeblood. The High Defier struck out, but his arm stiffened. The blood in his arm was influenced for a fraction of a second by Yuriel's Blood Concept backed by Divinity. Unveiling a fanged smile, Yuriel's nails dug into Musai's skin, blunting themselves once they reached the bone. Sword intent seeped into the Apostle's body, dicing his organs.

Adaptive blood and Divinity subsumed into the vampire, ceasing the wounds. He laughed. "Is that all you can do, High Defier? I will grind you into blood pulp, and drain you for centuries under the Crimson Mire."

Yuriel's answer was another Concept-filled slash obliterating part of that adaptive blood. He turned into blood mist, reforming miles away. Blood spheres behind him flooded back in, refilling the lost power and assuaging his Divinity. Bubbling crimson power raged, evaporating the nearby river, and calcifying the small forest he settled in.

"All you know is consumption, Vampire. But did you know I found a leaf superior in that discipline?"

A flying sword slash came out, severing a wing from the Apostle's body. It fell with a thud, unable to rejoin his body until the sword intent deep inside ceased cutting. Blood spikes, pillars, spears, bats, all manner of creatures and weaponry formed in the Vampiric Domain, the metaphysical crimson ocean prepared to crush the aged Grandmaster Swordsman in its depths.

"You lack understanding. Abilities are the clutches of a cripple before the primal connection of techniques."

Sealing his hands in a Blood Concept and Divinity, Yuriel rushed back after Musai. Running was impossible without leaving the Edgelands entirely. Musai met the sonic speed attacks with masterful grace, bits of elemental power, and high quality sword intent leaking into his opponent's body at each point of contact. All terrain nearby sliced apart into molecules, in an instant, the land turned into sword-scars and blood-blots. Mists swirled, lowering Musai's vision. He breathed out slowly, sheathing the short sword, taking the longer one into two hands.

Driven crazy by overuse of blood and hunger, Yuriel summoned a swirling holy star above himself. "Boastful of the one toy you Tributes have over us. Techniques are the crawling of bugs to make up for the lack of station. You will always kneel in worship, no matter your efforts, Defier."

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A trifecta of Concept, sword intent, and dual flame-lightening emblazoned on Musai's blade. He returned it to its sheath with a snick.

Yuriel came apart, bursting into mist, guts, and blood droplets. A transparent soul, blessed by Divinity, screamed in terror. One titanic blood orb settled over the spirit, reforging the entire vessel from scratch. The Apostle appeared the same on the outside, but the Divinity adapted, becoming resistant to Musai's sword style.

Rolling a shoulder, Musai settled a hand on his shorter blade's hilt. "The last Apostle utilized identical tactics. By next Tide, nothing the Godkings throw here will be fertile soil to the Sword Body. The Blood Queen's minions rot."

Swords began to materialize next to the High Defier, one by one. He spread his stance as Blade Domain expanded out, enveloping half of the Yuriel's competing Vampiric Domain. Stepping back once, he parried with one of the floating swords, stopping the surprise attack from the Vampire.

The metaphysical sanguine ocean imprint over Yuriel became completely corporeal, swarming Musai. Swiping with his short blade, the red waters turned into steam. Striking slowly again, Musai's attack seemed to do nothing—until reality cut apart. Lightning-fire scorched the sanguine pool from any state of existence. Through the cut, the Grandmaster Swordsman successfully transported the two of them to a mile-wide minor realm.

"Succoria bores, sending the younger Apostles. Is she so unsure of even her best? Very well, Yuriel, strain yourself. Be the pressure I desire to unlock the Greater Sword Body."

Loud heartbeats settled over the minor realm, a plane of starlight, space, and black space. Yuriel's black and teal feathered wings covered him as the final blood orb merged within. Concept and Divinity condensed down, and the Vampiric Domain settled on the Apostle's tongue. He swallowed, undergoing the metamorphosis into a fused holy Vampire.

"The Goddess's name may never be said in vain around me, Defier. Her blessings will overcome your petty sword."

Perfectly slashing with his longsword, Musai cut the exits out of the minor realm.

"Overcome my sword, bloodied one. Any other outcome is a waste of my years waiting. Bring the next edge out of this old, rusted body."

Two Velvet Hand and dozens of tier 2 Sacrament members lay dead before Ophelia Cyrn.

Lenardis orbited around her, playing soothing music to its furious master. Her sound echoes settled down. One of the entrances to the Silver Black Tower lay in total ruins. She flicked out her wand, cleaning away the blood and dead bodies. The sickening red sunlight streamed down on her. She washed away any trace of the nose wrinkling smell.

Tiles in the paths leading up to the Tower cracked apart, most of them uprooted by the previous conflict. The rest of her guard, commanders included, were directing the particulars of the defense against the Tide. The air threatening to burst apart from the Harmony Concept and ringing sound settled down. She paced in her unique cadence, mesmerizing to allies and deadly to any with ill-intent.

"To think the Velvet Hand vermin were so entrenched with the Sacrament. When order is restored, they must go." She set back her black hair—an old habit. Tired of playing guard duty, Ophelia conjured up a living sound echo, a fraction as powerful as her, but enough to alert her should another band try to infiltrate the Tower. It was vulnerable, with an exposed heart when powering the barrier.

Sound waves scoured the entirety of Sylen. She ignored the cowards, favored noble sons and daughters avoiding duty, and any otherwise skirting their service. Their punishments could come later. More importantly, all Sacrament members in the city had to be uprooted. This time was always when that faction of Godking worshipers crawled out of their dank holes. Insidious traitors. They aimed to convert others and sabotage the Tower.

The sheer amount of turncoats threatened to ignite the fury Ophelia just spent the better part of a minute trying to get under control. Over one hundred, the majority between tier 1 and 2. The Ichor simply was too powerful to consume at lower levels, even if diluted, sparing those without an ascension. Lenardis started to play Ophelia's favorite combination of notes. She brushed a hand against her artifact's cover, allowing the touch to communicate for her. Lenardis preferred this over words.

Ceasing her back-and-forth pacing, Ophelia conjured up a second living sound echo for good measure, her limit. The two together could stall even a tier 3 for long enough, should one somehow slip past her. She hadn't found a single tier 3 Sacrament member.

"Utter Fools, now that you unleash the Ichor openly, you cannot hide from me."

Sounds sweeping her away to the Western Quadrant, Elaria's most powerful Sonic Bard continued the eradication of the faction causing unrest in her city for so long.

In the screaming medical bay, Lilly was delirious. The pained moans, slick bandages, haunted hollow eyes, the soothing healing light. They prodded at her sanity.

Lilly slowly brought a shaking hand to her face. She summoned a mending spell, but it fizzled out. Under the crushing mental pressure, her consciousness lost connection to her mana pool.

He trusted me to come back here and be useful, to save others. What am I doing?

It hadn't been all that long since Sooty dropped her off here, but in that short flight, more of her world shattered. Ludmila, a long-time friend and party member, died on the way. An ascended priest explained that the bits of Ichor infection killed her. Cassandra wasn't doing much better. If she couldn't reject the Ichor, it may turn the woman she knew into a god creature cultist. No matter the efforts of the others in the tent, the best they managed was containment. Sweat and oil built up around Lilly's pale, clammy hands. The world continued to blur from tears. The drops landed on the bloodied and brown cloth mat she sat up in.

Beside her, a man, young enough to be considered a boy on Earth, but legally an adult in the Duchy, tried to claw out his skin, shaking.

"They all died. My friends, they all died. Take me with them, World Spirit. Why did it have to be me? I was next. Brad had a baby on the way. Let me take his place…"

Lilly opened her mouth to comfort, linking to the caretaker within, but all that jumbled out was a sob of her own. Out of the four close friends she made over repeated dungeon delves, three were dead, and another close to a fate worse than death. The phantom scent of sandalwood burned itself into her spirit.

Images of the blood, viscera, and guts, mentally burned. Dead faces. The half eaten Darius. Kyle hadn't even gotten the luxury of keeping enough flesh to be recognizable. That Envoy munched on him and slurped his guts like a delicacy. Her party was one of many to suffer that fate from just a single Envoy. Fifty hunters worked together to try and ward it away. Two survivors were left from that fifty, each in this medical bay.

And she had been powerless to stop it. Yet, he hadn't been.

The hunter left in charge of this medical bay, the ascended tier 1 priest from earlier, appeared overwhelmed. Any higher healers were out in the field or in the battlements. Judging from whispers the hunter let out, her signals for support to cleanse the Divinity-infected patients received a denial.

Freezing at the implications, Lilly tried to replicate Luke's cold mindset. Eyes were the window to the soul, and no scene seemed to phase him to the core. He faced that creature all alone.

Finding courage that way, Lilly shakily stood up and began to assist the overworked priest. She was damned if she let sheer terror be the reason Cassandra lost the battle for her life and will.