Rise of a Monster

"Alright, Feathers! How about th–" Gel's cheer tapered off as the pair watched the owlen go up in a column of golden flames that stretched dozens of feet into the sky. "--at. Hmm. I uh, did not see that coming. Is it wrong to feel relieved that he's the one who stabbed her and not us?"

"He's still alive." Sean pointed out, his pulse sense easily picking the heartbeat up through the swirling firestorm. "Maybe he's evolving? Is that what it looks like when paladins evolve? Can they even do that?"

"I have no idea." Gel admitted. "I mean, I do, and that's not at all how that works, but then I have no idea how she works so I say we just wait a minute and see what happens. He's still alive in there, right?"

"He is."

"Then it'll probably be fine–"

Gel's statement was cut off by a flash of light so bright even Sean put a hand up to protect his orbs, followed by the flames cutting off and Saren dropping to the ground like a discarded puppet. In his hand was a gleaming sword with a now-golden blade that wasn't at all jagged and broken as it had been before. If anything, it looked like the sword had evolved.

Is that even a thing? Sean wondered, before a slow clapping sound reminded him that their battle here technically wasn't over yet.

"Well done, monster. Fool." Derald said, looking first to them, then Saren, then back again. "You have officially gotten on my last nerve. A fitting final accomplishment, I'd call it – something no other boner has ever managed."

"I'm going to feast on your last nerve, bright-sack." Gel retorted immediately. "And build a little spire out of your bones once I've scoured them clean. I'll call it the final accomplishment of a man should've managed to know better than to send his minions to invade my territory."

"Oh?" Derald sounded amused, but Sean could sense the rage boiling over inside him. "That's funny. Because your hideous, blasphemous lives were forfeit the moment you stepped into mine."

The commander reached down for the twisted and blackened metal birdcage at his belt and unhooked it with one motion. Then he raised it towards them.

"I had hoped to use this against that blind oaf instead of you, but now that the fool has claimed my maiden – you leave me no choice." Bright golden light twinged with dark shadows swirled inside the cage, spinning and spitting out air like a reversed vortex. "Witness the endless power of the true Light!"

Sean's left arm resonated strongly in his mind, filling it with sudden, righteous fury as spectral yellow hands clawed their way out of the ground all around the battlefield. Apparitions in the form of the men and women they had slain, as well as many they had not, shrieked in fury as they emerged. Each floated in the air, spirits formed as whole torsos with arms that ended in wickedly curved claws made out of fiercely glowing light.

"We should stand together." Saren said. Bright, golden flames wrapped his new blade as he stood at Sean's back, facing outward. "Alone, even in the air, we will be overwhelmed."

"Glad to see you standing at all, Feathers." Gel said brightly. "I thought for sure bird was going to be the final item on tonight's menu, but then your friend over there kept talking."

The pair traded words back and forth some more, but even with the slime translating for him Sean felt their conversation slide into the background of his mind. Each of the apparitions felt wrong to his senses, like twisted, abhorrent mockeries of the natural order – and it was all the geladin could do not to attack immediately.

It felt like his bones had run ice cold with an implacable rage, and it was only his memories of the shroud floating through walls way back in the village of Dry Run that kept him in place. If these things were anything like that one had been, they were effectively invulnerable while moving through other objects.

Steady. Sean cautioned his rage. To Gel, he said. "Let them come to us…"

Unlike with Mumbles and the Inmortu, Sean felt no connection to these spirits. Perhaps because he hadn't touched them yet, he didn't know. But what he could feel was dozens of the same sparks Saren had created to release them welling up within his Reaper's hand as if in preparation. Instinctively, the geladin knew what he must do.

Switching his midnight blade back to his normal hand, Sean flexed the black bones of his left hand in preparation for what was to come. Gel lifted the helmet from his head and set it back into place again, resetting its scaling damage to a level their toughness would mitigate. As loopholes went, getting around "cannot be removed while the wearer still lives" by just… being undead, was his personal favorite amongst their cursed gear.

Pity the shop only had one of those. Their duster had been cracked in half earlier, but so far the rest of their gear had held up. Sean could only hope that trend continued.

Across the field from him, flanked by more than three dozen furious spirits of the not-yet-departed, Commander Derald snapped his fingers and pointed. A symphony of shrieking outrage responded to the signal and as one, the horde of spirits attacked. Gold Spire's last remaining officer led the charge, taking but a single step, bursting into light, and then reappearing just as he brought his oversized blade down on the geladin's skull.

Sean let an empowered Impact Shell stop the commander's strike for the first time as he thrust his black hand forward and caught the first ghost just as it phased through the crimson barrier with his fist.

Just before impact, one of the sparks inside his hand transferred to his knuckles and he felt a distinct resonance from the limb. When the yellow ghost's form made contact with his fist, the spirit exploded into a shower of black mist. Another followed, then another, and another. Sean delivered swift blows to each in turn, receiving no damage prompts for any of his attacks.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Instead, he got something entirely new. A prompt the color and shape of a gravestone appeared, ringing once like an old bell.

You have returned a trapped spirit to its proper rest. Continue encouraging those who are lost to embrace Death as you have. Trapped spirits freed: 4 of 42.

Did I just get a quest? Sean had no time to consider the prompt, as his side of the crimson barrier was now completely obscured by black mist wafting slowly into the air.

Behind him, Saren displayed a grace and speed Sean had never seen as the owlen's flame-wrapped blade flashed out again and again at the spirits surrounding them.

"You will pay for taking her from me!" Commander Derald shouted, having finally cracked his way through their barrier. An oversized, glowing blade parting the black mist and raining down again and again as he continued his tirade. "First you, then your bird, your dark master, and that wretched, smoking bear plotting against me in the shadows! All of you will pay for standing against the Spire – for standing against the glory of my Light!"

"He's really pissed off, isn't he?" Gel asked. The slime had time for commentary given they had learned early, and painfully, not to send whips at the man. "He was all calm before, do you think he was faking it?"

"Probably." Sean agreed, not really following either conversation.

He parried blows from the commander and backhanded the ghosts who closed in, turning them to sprays of black mist– but he was still pressed too hard. He was on the backfoot, only with Saren so close behind and swinging wildly there wasn't much room to retreat.

Just have to buy a little more time…

"Are you ready?" Sean asked, ducking under one spirit's dive and catching the commander's next strike with both his sword and his shoulder. "Because I think he is"!

"Ready." Gel confirmed.

"Alright, piss him off."

"Happily!"

Sean felt the slime's lungs inflate as he took in enough air for a mighty shout– but then Gel seemed to reconsider. His next words came out not as a shout, but with a calm confidence that shot through the chaotic tempo of more than a dozen combatants in melee around them.

"Oh, Derald!" Gel called out. "How does it feel, knowing your beloved Spire is about to fall to a monster you can't even hurt?"

Derald's sky-blue eyes flashed with anger, and Sean knew the words had hit their mark when his opponent leapt backwards. With a gesture, the remaining spirits flew back with him. Sean noted with satisfaction that they numbered less than half they had before.

Glancing at Saren, it was clear the spirits had given as good as they had gotten. The owlen's body was shredded. Blended might be a better descriptor. Softly glowing light covered many of his wounds, but there were far more that bled freely. Even so, the former paladin walked to their side with only slight trembling.

"This is the end for me." Saren said softly. "When he strikes, let my death be the chance you–"

"Would you tell this idiot we've saved him enough times?" Sean asked Gel as the commander began to empower not just his sword– but his entire body with what was surely intended to be his final blow. "He's staying saved, damnit. Have him step back. We've got this."

Sean couldn't see the owlen's surprise, but he felt the surprise when Saren's heart skipped a beat. Then the gentle, helpless laughter as Saren apparently agreed. Before he stepped back however, the owlen whispered a phrase and then tossed them something that Gel's whip flashed out to catch.

Brilliant golden flames illuminated the night from over Sean's left shoulder.

"Ohh-ho-ho-HO!" Gel enthused. "I'll give Feathers one thing, he's got a knack for tossing us fun weapons to fight with."

"I'm surprised you can even hold that." Sean said, shaking his head and trying not to flinch at the instinctual revulsion he felt from the weapon. "How are you evening holding it?"

"I'm not, the book is."

"I–what?"

Unable to help himself, Sean glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, there was the omnomicon. Monstrous teeth gripping the hilt of a flaming, golden sword. Gel's crimson whip was attached to the spine of the cursed book and together they were somehow holding it steady. A cultured voice spoke into the geladin's mind.

"He killed our creation." The omnomicon said, its spine shaking in silent fury. "I will see him carved into a curry."

Sean nodded, returning his blazing orbs to their opponent. His midnight blade was held high, his reaper's hand at the ready. Semi-solid crimson ooze seeped slowly out of his chest.

"Bring it, bright-sack!" Gel shouted.

Commander Derald forewent his normal flashy step, instead leaping the entire distance between them while wreathed in blinding light. His oversized blade had grown three times its normal size, crashing down on them with such force that the wind whistled with its passing. It landed with an impact that should have flattened them and the brickwork around for dozens of yards.

Should have.

Sean grinned. The crimson liquid covering his skull rippled as "Bounce Back" activated. Commander Derald's sky-blue eyes widened in surprise for the barest instant before his blade reversed course faster than the man could react. It buried itself deep into his shoulder through his armor as both the geladin and omnomicon swung their weapons up to impale the man.

Death mana swirling around a midnight blade pierced Derald's heart as a flame-wrapped blade seared its way through his abdomen. Sean's left hand also reached up, grabbing the twisted metal of the birdcage and wrenching it out of the commander's other hand.

Even so, the implacable man was somehow not yet dead. Sky-blue eyes blazing with golden power and rage gripped each of the weapons impaling him with terrible strength. High above, the yellow spirits that were almost certainly his follow-up finish shrieked in outrage and hastened their charge.

Ignoring them all, Sean released his weapon and ordered the omnomicon to do the same. He ducked to the side as the man fell, choosing to grasp the birdcage with both hands rather than wrestle for control. The resonance he felt from his left limb was a song in his mind. He could feel the path to true victory now – and it wasn't through strength of arm.

No, that death would be too good for you.

Saren shouted a warning, rushing forward as the howling spirits from before descended on him all at once. Before they could make it, Sean braced the birdcage in his right hand as he activated slash with his reaper's hand. Then, he ripped the twisted metal cage to shreds. Blackened metal shards burst all over the brickwork as the commander shouted in a cry equal parts horrified and pain-wracked.

"Nooo!!"

Sean felt the first spirit stop its claws a hair's breadth from his skull. Then he felt the change in the air as the horde of remaining spirits turned as one towards the twice-impaled man struggling to stand.

"Not so tough when you're the one outnumbered, are you?" Gel taunted. "Get 'em, boys."

As if waiting on the slime's command, the spirits of Gold Spire's fallen men and women descended– tearing into their former commander with righteous fury.

You have defeated a Gold Spire Outpost Commandant! You have gained 50 experience points.

Congratulations, you have reached level—

—--------------------

When it was over, which thankfully didn't take very long, Sean was surprised to find the yellowed spirits had lined up in front of him. They did so slowly, almost hesitantly.

Moving with instinctual understanding, Sean walked up to the first of them and reached up with his left hand to palm the spirit's head. A spark traveled through his reaper's hand, bursting the spirit into black mist as the others had before… but not before the fallen man gave Sean a grateful, almost relieved nod of appreciation. The others in line doing the same as their own turns came.

When it was done, Sean received another prompt in that same gravestone-grey. This time, the sound was not of a bell, but of a whisper on the wind speaking words he could not recognize.

Death approves of your actions.

Sean wasn't entirely certain how to feel. So, the geladin simply stood there for a long moment, wondering what the prompt meant. Mulling over all that had happened. He had come for vengeance, and achieved it, but he felt like there had been so much more to tonight's events than just a night raid to retrieve his favorite pot. He wondered if he would ever know all that had happened.

Doubt it.

Sean watched the black mist of the freshly departed fade up into the night sky as the moon of death, Bas, hung high over the battlefield. Even Gel and the cursed cookbook were silent alongside him for a time. All were, really… until a feathered hand clapped itself on his shoulder.

"It is done." Saren said with a grave finality.

"It is, finally, done."