Bloodsworn

Chapter 2.46 Hellborn

46.

The behemoth was picked free of the ground, thrown with violence against a stone wall, breaking it apart in a shower of stone. Blood and stone went flying about, the undead creature struggling to rise again as Erak and his militia raced towards the museum. His aura of command kept the formation in tight grouping, their spears lashing out with machine precision as the undead came racing forward only to die.

“It was a mistake to try to slow down. It’s better to race through them and fortify at the objective.”

“Erak! Another of them!” Nevia shouted, pointing toward another of the abominations as it lumbered forward. Erak was growing tired of these creatures, there was no challenge to the awkward creatures as they lumbered forward just to be hammered back into the ground.

Erak stepped out of the line of soldiers and reared back, striking the behemoth down. The creature bounced off the sidewalk and through the front of a building. Erak followed the creature's path with his eyes. A shiver rolled through his spine, instinct sharpened by years, his only warning.

Erak threw himself backward as the air parted with a shriek, black iron slicing apart stone where Erak had just stood. A long spear reverberated in the spot Erak had vacated, nine feet of infernal steel. Sinking into a crouch Erak looked about through the mist, thicker than ever before.

“ERAK?” Nevia yelled out to him from behind, her voice thin, muted by distance and the mist. He ignored it as he swept his eyes back and forth across the boulevard, looking for the spear thrower.

The mist moved, swirling in warning. Erak lunged out of the way in time as a second long spear punched through the ground, bits of stone clattering off his armor as he looked up to see where the spears were being fired from.

“Pomp. Essence vision

,” Erak ordered. With a flash the mist flashed away and he saw the thick, oily presence of a demon atop of a building halfway down the block. Erak leapt, dropping his hammer and grabbing the oversized spear. With a surge of strength the spear burst free out of the stone, the weight heavy in his hand as he spun it and started to run forward. With a grunt he threw the spear, sending the heavy bolt across the distance in a flash. The Essence signature fell, the rumble of breaking stone loud through the mist. Erak grabbed the hammer and jogged toward the Essence signature, which was still burning. Closer to the creature he let the Essence vision fade away as he was able to see the demon.

Corrupted Hellborn lvl. 29

A creature born in hellflame but not of the demonic lines. The corruption still seeps through it.

The creature was short, wide, with gray skin, orange eyes, and long floppy ears that flapped across its shoulders. It struggled out of the rubble of the crushed building, pieces of machine around it, long spears laying intermixed with the broken ballistae.

“Mercy. Mercy, please,” the creature rasped, lifting a single hand upward, shielding its face. Erak watched the other hand as it reached through the rubble, desperately searching for something.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

He didn’t give it a chance to recover, smashing its wide face with a single blow. Bone shattered in a spray of blood, Essence flowing into Erak as the hellborn creature fell limp in the rubble. Its hidden hand letting loose a long dagger to clatter to the ground in a ring of steel. Erak looked around but spied no more of the creatures, this single beast all that had been here.

A series of pangs of anxiety hit him through the tethers he had built in with the militia and he turned back to where he had left his men. Erak snagged one of the ballistae bolts with a grunt of effort, running toward the fight.

The accursed fog prevented him from seeing the fight, but the ferocity of the fighting was loud enough that Erak felt his own surge of anxiety at the sounds of battle.

“I shouldn’t have left them.

” The thought was reinforced by a series of caster bolts lighting the area, Nevia’s team firing was the last resort to try to keep the undead from breaking their lines. In seconds the entirety of the fight was laid bare. A trio of behemoths formed an arc around the square of militia, swiping with their oversized hands to smash apart shields, throwing men to the ground. Spears stabbed deep into flesh, singular hands disappearing from the backs to heal themselves.

Risen surrounded the back end of the square, a thickening crowd that prevented movement. Between one step and the next Erak activated his bloodlust aura, mingling it with the aura of command. It would take a few seconds for it to fully realize, but Erak’s joy for the fight was already spreading.

The long spear darted across the distance, slamming into the closest of the behemoth’s sending it staggering back as it pierced through the ribs. It staggered and began to fall as Erak closed the distance, sprinting at full speed as he lowered his shoulder and prepared to activate his title.

Momentum. The energy that had been building with his mixed aura’s were absorbed instantly, his sprint ending as he slammed shoulder first into the behemoth. It disintegrated into a spray of blood and mist, nearly evaporated in a second. His body shook with the reverberations of the blow rattling his head.

Burning blue eyes turned to look at him, the surviving behemoth’s ire turned away from his pummeled men and toward him. Erak slapped his hand against the broad head of the hammer, a clean ringing sound echoed over the field as they both came toward him.

The sudden loss of his command aura was disorienting, like a great weight sliding free of his shoulders. He felt free to move, to act without responsibility, to chase after the fight. The comfort of the feeling of brother’s in arms was missing, a coldness now pressing into him from the mist surrounding them, from the weight of the dead who filled the city.

“Erak. Please don’t leave like that again,” Nevia said, appearing by his side with a bloody-black saber in hand. Erak nodded toward her as he stepped over the remnants of the behemoth, just a pair of rotting legs leaking blood. Nevia followed behind as he bullied his way into the surviving behemoths driving them backward as the militia square started forward again.

“Pomp. Freeze the backlines and help clear the engagement zone.” Pomp flew from his body, heading towards the back of the formation as Erak battered the two behemoths into a building, leaving them to slowly recover as Nevia barked orders out.

“We really need Pomp to scout for us,” Nevia said as she took the head off of a risen that strayed too close to them. Erak grunted as he kicked a risen out of the way, sending it sprawling into the street. The damn mist was an annoyance that he couldn’t wait to be rid of.

“What was that thing that attacked you?” Nevia asked as the militia pulled into a cohesive formation as they started down the road again. Pomp flew to his shoulder landing on his shoulder.

“I froze them, we should have a few minutes before they break through,” Pomp said, long tail flapping into Erak’s back.

“Tell Nevia there are demons here. Hellborn creatures. We must be alert of anytype of fortifications that have been erected.” Pomp quickly told Nevia what Erak had said before looking back to Erak.

“Only a few minutes away from the museum. Keep heading straight.” Erak grunted in acknowledgement and started spinning out his aura of command again, eager to feel the connection with his troops again.