Rise of a Monster

Sean had several questions now that Gold Spire's leader had shown himself.

Where the hell did he come from? Had he leapt from the Spire? Why is a paladin sporting a gothic birdcage? Does it grow? Is he going to use that to capture us somehow? And finally.

Did this mother fucker just superhero landing our golem?

For all Sean's rapid-fire thoughts, Gel it seemed, had focused on something else entirely.

"Oh my wobble above, Sean. Sean! Where did he get those shoes?! We have to have them! I don't care if they're your size or not, we'll find a tailor." Gel enthused, completely derailing the gravity of the moment. "Look at how absolutely glorious they are! They'll match every single outfit we have and then some!"

"We only have one outfit." Sean pointed out. "Also, shoes? How is that what you're worried about right now? Didn't he just call you rotting?"

"He did, but there's always time for fashion, Sean." Gel shot back. "Clearly he knows that. I might have been willing to forgive and work something out… but honestly I feel like melting the flesh from his bones. Might be related to how he just obliterated the most perfect meal you have ever created for me. Hard to say."

The slime's tone had shifted from his usual cheeriness to pure menace and back again so smoothly Sean almost thought the slime had been joking. That is, until he felt the roiling rage of his friend's emotions through their bond. Which was good, as it matched what the geladin himself was feeling right about now.

This bastard had attacked their home, sent men to assassinate Saren, stolen his beloved pot, and now he had the nerve to squash their golem while daring them to entertain him?

"I'm going to kill him now."

"I like that plan. Let's do that plan." Gel agreed, then swiftly added. "But leave his shoes! I need them. For… reasons."

Derald struck before Sean could even agree. The commander somehow crossed the distance between them in a single step marked by a flash of golden light and brought down his oversized blade hard. Despite seeming not to take them seriously, Sean had no doubt this blow was intended to end the fight before it began. Unfortunately for him, this was exactly what they had been waiting for. Exactly why Sean had forgone his bone shield mainstay this entire fight.

"Impact Shell!" Gel roared as Sean braced in a seemingly full-defensive guard.

Crimson energy exploded out of the slime, erecting a half-dome barrier between them and the commander. Derald's eyes widened mid-swing, but it was too late to change course. Sean twisted in place just as the oversized blade slammed into the barrier, breaking right through it–

–and getting immediately battered aside by Sean's counter swing. Much of the commander's momentum had been halted by the barrier, so the counter knocked him entirely off-balance. Seizing the advantage, Sean stepped in close as he activated slash and momentum shift at its maximum capacity. Then the geladin whirled a full 360 degrees, swinging his second blow in straight for his opponent's lower chest.

In response, the commander threw up his off hand and activated his own defensive measure. Blazing light exploded into the form of a wall-sized golden shield in front of him. Unlike impact shell however, the ability did nothing to stop the momentum of Sean's attack. Another boom echoed across the battlefield and Derald was sent flying more than a dozen yards back.

He landed on his feet of course, but Sean noted with grim satisfaction that the man's golden plate armor had a single crack running down its center. Neither had held back in that exchange, and the geladin was now certain they had come out on top.

Only problem is, how many more times can we do that?

"How much mana was that?" Sean asked, referring to the variable cost Gel paid to activate impact shell.

"10 points!"

"How many more of those can you throw up?"

Gel mulled that over as the two opponents sized each other up once more. Commander Derald brushed his armor off as if dismissing the attack, but his sky-blue eyes were narrow and hard.

"Depends on how many of his friends we can eat as we go. Without any snacks in-between, maybe once more?"

Sean sent a mental grunt of acknowledgement as he watched the commander, who appeared to be waiting for something.

He's probably waiting to see if we have another surprise or ranged attack. Given that he hasn't used one, he's probably a full melee sort like us.

"Time for the helmet then." Sean said, and his friend groaned.

"Ugh, fine." Gel acceded, sliding the cursed helm up from behind Sean's neck to cover his skull. "But as soon as this is over, we're throwing that thing back in the shop! It's hideous and I can't believe I let you bring it along. Might as well glue random rocks to your head, we would look better."

Helmet of Hollow Victory (Leather, Cursed): Increases wearer's toughness by 25%. Deals increasing damage to the wearer for every thirty seconds worn (2 at 1 minute, 4 at 2 minutes, etc.). Cannot be removed while the wearer still lives.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Sean's toughness spiked from 37 to 46, bringing his inherent damage resistance from 20 to 25. This was more of a last resort item, but his instincts and their first clash told Sean they would need it. Speaking of need… Sean activated their final cursed item just as the commander took another flashy-step forward.

Ring of Borrowed Time (Sandstone, Cursed): Absorbs mana from each of the wearer's kills. Amount stolen is based on the slain creature's total mana at time of death. On activation, mana stored in the ring can be spent by the wearer, at an additional cost of one year of life for each point of mana spent.

Good thing we don't age. Sean thought, as Gel used ten points of mana from the ring to throw up another crimson impact shell to blunt the commander's heavy overhand blow. Or that would get expensive quick.

Refocusing on the battle, Sean watched in satisfaction as the commander's strike was blunted once more. Keeping his own blade wide, the geladin took the attack on his shoulder plate, using his heightened toughness to transfer the remaining damage potential into his next attack with momentum shift. Even after the drop from their crimson barrier, Derald's blow was no joke.

Must have empowered it with another ability… Sean thought as twenty two points of damage flowed into his counter strike with momentum shift, and he stabbed forward.

The battle raged on. Each side deflecting or redirecting blows that would slay lesser men and creatures both. Sean lost himself in the flow of it. Each series of blows felt like it blurred by as his evolved martial instincts saved their lives again and again, letting him keep up with a swordsman who would've completely outclassed him only days ago. Similarly, through the ring borrowed time Gel burned through entire days worth of mana they might have otherwise saved just to blunt the staggering might of Derald's abilities.

Simple as the commander's abilities appeared to be, focused on empowering his damage and blitzing across the battlefield, they were nevertheless effective. Sean hadn't expected to be able to trade blows with the man after his first attack, but through the combination of freely available bodies to absorb and their bevy of cursed gear– they were doing it!

Once he runs out of mana, this is over. Sean realized with a sudden thrill. He can't keep this up forever.

Evidently, the commander agreed. After their next exchange the man leapt backwards and bellowed something at them. Or rather, at the one now standing behind them. Sean's sense of danger exploded and Gel translated the words without being asked.

"Isla! Serve the Spire!" Derald roared. "Surrender your power to me so that I may sear these enemies of the Light into the very sands!"

Somehow, Sean had forgotten about the Brightmaiden. She stood completely still, as if the commander's words had shocked her otherwise expressionless form into immobility. Her positioning sent a rush of cold anger through the geladin.

When did she slide over to Saren?

The woman hadn't interfered in their fight, nor made any move to attack anyone, so he had figured her mana – or whatever was powering her – must have run out. Instead, it appeared the woman has simply been biding her time as the commander's final card to play.

Though he couldn't have spent the time they would have needed to take her down, Sean nevertheless berated himself as he repositioned to face both.

Stupid move, Sean. He doubted he could make it to their fallen feathered friend's side before whatever was going to happen would. The owlen was simply too far away. Now what's going to–

The Brightmaiden's arm rose, fingers extended towards the commander and Sean's thoughts froze. Behind her, his pulse sense detected a sudden surge of emotion.

Saren?

"Oh, nice. Feathers is still alive!" Gel commented brightly as the owlen struggled slowly to his feet. Golden light massed at the woman named Isla's hands as the light coming off the entire rest of her body dulled as if fading away.

"For now, at least."

—--------------------

Saren's thoughts were a jumbled mess. His will had all but crumpled, draining out of his body along with his life's blood as each agonizing moment passed. If it weren't for his now-passive healing ability spending the last vestiges of his remaining mana to replenish his lost fluids, he would already be dead.

I should be anyway. His ability would fail soon. Saren had expected to die after hearing his former commanding officer speak, yet somehow he remained alive. Every clash between Gel and the commander shook the ground, but to him they sounded more and more distant. I should join them.

He was no match for Commander Derald, even at the height of his strength. He knew that now. Knew it in the marrow of his broken bones, despite the oracle's promises from before that they could stand against him together. That Gel could stand against the man alone for this long was a testament to the undead's strength and a miracle they did not deserve, but as he felt death close in on him, Saren found it hard to be grateful to the Light for the way this night would end.

The owlen had almost given in to the abyss when he felt Isla's presence beside him. At first, he assumed she would be the one to end him – a fitting send off, all things considered. But his former instructor simply stood nearby. Silent, as she observed his inevitable passing.

Silent forevermore. Saren thought bitterly, tears that his fatal wounds had not brought forth spilling from the owlen's eyes as he remembered what Isla had given up for her new power.

It was only minutes later that Saren noticed the change. His thoughts focused for the first time in what felt like ages as he came to a sudden realization.

I am… not dying?

Blessed warmth washed over his bloodied feathers as the confusion he was feeling was dispelled by the appearance of two prompts he had been ignoring for all too long.

Due to the "Light's Resurgence" aura of a friendly Brightmaiden, your mana has been completely refilled.

The healing from your passive ability, Knight's Resolve, has been magnified by 250% due to the "Light's Restoration" aura of a friendly Brightmaiden.

Saren stared up in shock at Isla's all-too-familiar yet obscured features. At the curvature of a woman who he had never been able to admit his feelings for – even to himself – until it had been too late. Hot tears fell as he realized that even now, she was helping him. Saving him.

The transformation ritual was said to rip one's identity and individuality away, and yet…

Some part of her yet remains. Isla had always been strong-willed, so it shouldn't surprise him that whatever remained of the woman he had once known had found a loophole in her orders to exploit and, thereby, save his life.

Saren shut his eyes tight, cutting off the tears. He owed her so much, and he had failed her.

She's gone. He told himself over and over even as renewed strength slowly filled his limbs. She's gone and she's not coming back.

He needed to act. Saren could still hear Gel battling the commander not far away. From what he could make of it, the evolved undead was holding his ground– but for how long? I need to get up and help. I can't waste this chance.

Then he heard it.

"Isla! Serve the Spire!" Commander Derald roared. "Surrender your power to me so that I may sear these enemies of the Light into the very sands!"

Saren's heart sank as he watched the last vestiges of Isla sink back into the expressionless features of her glowing form. Then it broke as she raised her hand, preparing to give her newfound power to the Spire's greatest traitor – as if giving her life to him hadn't already been enough.

All to feed his ambition…

Saren was on his feet before he knew what he was doing, broken sword in hand. He couldn't let Isla sacrifice herself a second time. Couldn't let her final act in this world be to support the very man who had killed her. A man who would use her power to kill him and the undead Saren had only recently begun to consider a friend. Who had saved his life, twice, for no other reason than it could.

"I am sorry." Saren whispered to her, apologizing one final time–

– as he stabbed her through the heart.

Burning flames erupted outward from the wound, engulfing both the handle and his hand. A distant part of Saren's mind pointed out that he had just impaled Isla on the very blade she had gifted him at graduation. An even more distant part of his mind recalled the vision he had been granted out in the desert. Of Isla throwing herself on a sword.

My sword. The owlen realized, as the flames spread up his arm to the shoulder. She threw herself on my sword the moment she came to help me. This was my doing.

Tears fell down Saren's face even as his entire body was wreathed in golden flames. On the other end of his blade, Isla's once-glowing form crumbled like ash in the wind as it swirled around him. There was a bright flash of light, and the owlen had time for only one final thought before it came.

I wish we'd had more time.