And (N)one Shall Remain

“Father Poligenes!” screamed Sister Maetel as she saw how the sole fourth tier priest of their group was killed. Despite the Father’s skillful use of healing magic, which he often applied to his own injuries, she knew all too well that a decapitation was famously an effective way to kill such people, and Father Poligenes had his head removed from his body in no unquestionable terms.

 

“Gah!” she yelped out in pain as the moment of inattention nearly cost her her own life. The slender beast that kept her occupied so far had taken the opening and nearly ripped out her throat with its fangs. She managed to lean back just enough in time, though it was not enough to prevent the beast’s fang from tearing a chunk of flesh off her chin.

 

With an angry bellow that was closer to a beast’s roar Sister Maetel called upon her [Divine Body] skill, which reinforced her physical capabilities to superhuman level. She brought down her two-handed mace with terrifying power towards the beast that was still recovering from its lunge, intent on turning it into minced meat with the blow.

 

Yet her blow only found the forest floor and kicked up some dirt and leaves instead as the beast suddenly vanished from beneath her mace to reappear a short distance away, to the side. Sister Maetel made a second swing with a snarl of frustrated rage, but the slender beast just casually leapt away and stayed out of her range.

 

It had always acted that way, staying out of her immediate range yet lunging in to bite at her the moment she showed any opening or tried to head to the others in order to render them aid. It was as if the beast knew that she was one of the strongest and took upon itself to buy time for the rest of the attackers by keeping her busy.

 

Sister Maetel was just about to pursue the beast once more when she saw the odd cloaked and hooded figure that murdered Father Poligenes rush towards her from the corner of her eye, with the figure’s pair of dagger already flying her way. She had no choice but to turn her attention to the new threat as she deflected away one of the daggers with her mace and got the other to wrap around the shaft of her weapon. She was just about to drag the hooded figure over to get her into her range when she felt a sharp pain in her leg.

 

Armor like what she wore mostly focused on covering its wearer’s vital parts. There were compromises that had to be made between coverage and durability against weight and mobility, especially for those on the higher tiers. While it was easy enough to make an armor for a second tier that could encompass their whole body, provide excellent protection, and not hamper their mobility too much, the far greater levels of power and destruction fourth tiers were capable of meant that things could not be the same for them.

 

It was practically impossible to create an armor that was not only durable enough to provide reasonable protection from another fourth tier, covered the entire body, yet not affect the wearer’s mobility, even with the use of rare materials. In general most fourth tiers opted to retain their mobility, even the more heavily armored ones like Sister Maetel.

 

As such, their armor did not cover some areas, which were particularly vulnerable to enemy attacks. Their joints were a typical weakpoint, as it was the hardest to create armor that could move with them without hampering their mobility at the level of protection fourth tiers needed against one another. The pain Sister Maetel felt came from one area her armor did not cover, namely the back of her right knee.

 

Sure enough, when she glanced back, that infernal beast had not only returned to the fray but bit deep into her right leg from behind. Her leg wasn’t hurt so bad that she couldn’t put her weight on it yet, but she knew that if she gave the beast time, it would make the injury far worse, so she shifted around and tried to bring her weapon to bear on the beast while it was stuck to her leg.

 

She failed to notice how the “rope” that wrapped around her mace’s shaft and the bone dagger tied to it came to life like it was some sort of snake, the bone dagger rearranging itself into a set of teeth that sprouted out from a three-part maw the “rope” opened up to. Sister Maetel only noticed the danger when it was too late, and turned only to have the maw clamp down

on her face.

 

Then she felt something trying to force its way into her nostrils and mouth and eye sockets, accompanied by excruciating pain. Perhaps as a final blessing from the gods she worshiped, the pain only lasted a short while before she felt something breaking, and then she knew no more as darkness descended upon her consciousness and claimed her.

 

Alas, her soul was not meant for the promised afterlife preached by the priests, but for the gullet of a hungry, soul-devouring thing her gods would have considered to be the highest form of heresy just for existing.

 

******************************

 

Brother Brodwick was unaware of everything that happened, be it the death of Father Poligenes, or that of Sister Maetel. He was a [Devoted Fleetfoot Blade], a blessed class that fought and defeated his opponents with overwhelming speed and precision strikes. He had been paired with Sister Maetel, a [Blessed Behemoth of Faith] who excelled in raw power for a decade now, and the two always made a good team.

 

For the first time, however, he faced an opponent that completely stymied him. None of his skills and abilities allowed him to escape the envelopment of the mist that still covered everything around him, and while he managed to get away from it, the mist still attempted to devour him everytime he came into direct contact with it.

 

He had no idea how that worked, or how the creature could turn into mist like that for that matter, or how it could still try to gnaw at him everytime he came close. One thing he knew for certain was that his own body was already riddled with shallow teeth marks – from when the mist came into contact with him but he was fast enough to escape its grasp – and he needed to get out of there before it was too late.

 

Yet no matter what he tried, the mist continued to envelop his surroundings and block every avenue of escape he could think of. He even tried going above or below, but the mist remained all around him as if it was attached to him in some manner. All the while, he slowly but surely grew weaker from the injuries – slight as they might be – and the bleeding.

 

He had no illusions about what would happen to him should he actually allow the mist to engulf him. The creature – mist, beast, whatever it was – already made that clear with the many, many bite marks already on his body, which directly bypassed the armor he wore and directly formed on his skin when the mist seeped in underneath it, even.

 

Nothing he did seemed to seriously affect the beast once it turned into mist, which he knew likely just meant that he had yet to stumble upon something that would actually hurt the damn thing. Nothing was invincible and everything had a weakness, Brother Brodwick was certain of that.

 

Unfortunately for him, he had yet to realize that he happened to be in one of those cases where his skillset happened to be a poor matchup to his opponent.

 

Worse, with the way Gordy kept Brother Brodwick’s awareness of his surroundings limited to just the things in his immediate vicinity, he had absolutely no idea that those on the outside could see just fine into the mist… if they were on the same side as it was. As such he also had no idea that several bloody figures were approaching him from all directions and were preparing their attacks.

 

So when the mist suddenly dispersed and reformed into the large shaggy beast all of a sudden, he was caught by surprise. Surprise that lasted all of a brief moment before attacks of all kinds flew towards him from every direction.

 

Brother Brodwick wanted to use his god-given speed to escape, but to his dismay, found that his feet were encased in ice and was stuck to the ground. He shattered the ice that shackled him using his swords, but that cost him a precious moment, and as a result, he was too late to avoid some of the attacks headed his way.

 

He still managed to deflect a sword-like claw that was swung towards his face, and barely avoided a vicious-looking polearm that sliced through some of his long, flowing hair as it passed by his face, but other strikes found purchase. An arrow moved faster than he could react to and went into his left arm at the bicep, where it exploded and directly shattered his arm on the spot.

 

Another shackle of ice covered his right foot, yet this time the shackle did not stop at only encasing his foot, but grew spikes that dug into his flesh and kept him in place. A pair of spears shot out and pierced through his abdomen before he could bend down to shatter the ice, and he also felt another blade enter his body from the side and slice through one of his kidneys.

 

A Ragah-fiq demon wielding a large shield and a hefty-looking mace charged him and Brother Brodwick only barely managed to block the vicious blow, even if it sent him careening backwards until he landed on his back, wrenching his leg painfully as the spikes of ice dug into his flesh and enlarged the wounds they created there.

 

Brother Brodwick knew that he probably dislocated his ankle or worse from the pain that shot up his leg, but at that time, it was clearly the least of his worries. As he fell he realized just how bad the situation was, as everywhere he could see, the other temple guards all lay dead, and not even Father Poligenes or Sister Maetel, both fourth tier powerhouses in their own rights, managed to survive.

 

In his heart Brother Brodwick knew that the chances of his survival was slim to none at best, though what alarmed him more was the identity of these enemies that had slaughtered his party. He saw both demons and humans, working together with one another, and knew only one group that had members of both races like that.

 

The heretics. The accursed followers of the old gods that had been overthrown by their gods, fools who followed the words of long cast out deceivers.

 

His thoughts were cut short, however, as the shaggy beast he fought against, the one that turned into the mist that enveloped him, walked over and approached him all too nonchalantly. Brother Brodwick tried to raise his remaining sword but found his arm pinned down when he did so, while the beast came closer and closer…

 

The last thing Brother Brodwick ever saw while he was alive was a large, toothy maw opening up to engulf his face in its entirety.

 

He had vague awareness of whatever happened after that, only that he knew his soul would go to the embrace of his Gods, who would hopefully forgive him the dismal failure that was his last battle. Vaguely, he noticed other, familiar faces near him, ones he recognized as Father Poligenes and Sister Maetel, and the others as well.

 

Were they perhaps already in the promised afterlife? It made sense since they died together… yet an uneasy feeling crept up his soul regardless.

 

Was the promised afterlife supposed to be so dark and quiet…?