Path of Dragons 13 - Chapter 75 - False Emerald

Vhalor glanced at the fallen Marith before his eyes flicked toward Searathe.  Neither were dead, but they might as well have been.  From experience, Vhalor knew that it would take quite a bit more than what she’d experienced to put Marith down, but the Mirror Saint was far more fragile.  If she ever rose again, he would have been surprised.

He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword and glared at the dragon.  The creature cut an imposing and intimidating figure, and not just because of his size.  A deep well of power flowed within his chest, and he’d shown that he was a creature of dense vitality.  Even as the seconds passed, the wound Vhalor had inflicted upon the dragon sealed. 

According to his senses, the damage was still there, lurking just below the surface.  But it was healing a little more with each passing moment.

“Why?” demanded Vhalor.

The dragon cocked its head, like a curious bird from the old stories.  “What do you mean?  I gave you a chance to turn back.  You refused my offer.”

“Why did you attack Kor’ien?  She did nothing to you.”

“She was in my way.”

Vhalor paced back and forth, still under the auspices of his transformation skill.  Titan’s Might would last indefinitely, though the moment he let it lapse, he would pay a price that climbed steadily with every second he kept it active.  But without it, he had no chance of slaying the tyrannical dragon.

“With that statement, you reveal yourself.  You are no virtuous champion of morality.  You are no better than any of the rest of us,” Vhalor stated evenly.  Somehow, he’d managed to keep his fury constrained.  In truth, he cared not for the other members of the Synod.  Most of them had long succumbed to the poison of apathy, and as such, they’d already worn out their usefulness.  Even had they survived, they would have needed to be replaced, and soon.

But what he could not stomach was the challenge to their authority.  The second he allowed that to stand, the entirety of their civilization would collapse in on itself.  The order imposed by the Synod was the only thing standing between Ithalon and the ever-hungry corruption that surrounded their city.  If they were seen as weak, then all their efforts – and those of their ancestors who’d saved the population from the horrors of excisement – would have been for naught.

Vhalor refused to allow that to come to pass.

Not even if he needed to slay a creature of myth made real.  Perhaps doing so would make the difference in his Legacy and allow him to take an uncorrupted class evolution and enter the ranks of the multi-verse’s deities. 

But then again, what if the creature had discovered a true means of banishing the corruption?  The trek across the continent – once the most tainted on Gorveth – seemed to suggest that recovery was possible.  Throughout, they’d all been stunned by the lack of corruption. 

Was the dragon responsible?

Or was something else going on?

In the end, it didn’t matter.  Vhalor could not let him live.  Even if he truly was Gorveth’s hope.  If that was the case, then Vhalor would pick up the torch and take his rightful place leading his people to salvation. 

Such was his birthright as well as his burden.

He charged.

                          *

Cloaked in Tainted Shadows, Zek watched from afar.  The ability kept him hidden, though it constantly degraded under the vital atmosphere – proof that he was not meant to live in a cleansed world.  Doing so came with constant pain, dull though it was. 

It was confirmation that, though he sought a world free of the abyss, such a world was not one where he could exist.  Even after such a short time – a couple of years – he could feel his body breaking down. 

It was the same for everyone else, though to varying degrees.  Those like him, who’d lived and worked outside the city’s sterile environment, were the most corrupted.  And as such, they were the least likely to survive the atmosphere Elijah had created.  The dull ache represented his body’s rebellion, and it grew worse with every passing day.

Every adult experienced something similar, though those who’d never ventured outside the city were the least affected.  If Zek’s estimates were correct, then his life span would be cut down to barely a tenth of its former length.  Maybe five more years.  Ten, if he was exceedingly lucky, though most of that would see him bedridden.

Others would survive longer. 

Hopefully, the young would be far less affected.  The only ones whose futures looked bright were the children Elijah had managed to cleanse.  Maybe their offspring wouldn’t have to worry about such things.

In any case, Zek’s days were numbered, which was why he’d dared to venture so close to the ongoing battle.  He’d remained out of range of Elijah’s wildfire ability, though he was close enough to feel its heat.  More, he’d watched in awe as the forest sprang up from the ashes of the fallen army. 

The Synod – or what was left of it after he’d carried Lurien away – was unharmed, though.  And after Elijah’s onslaught, only three remained.  The Mirror Saint had collapsed, unconscious and barely breathing.  Once, when he had lived in Ithalon, he’d watched her destroy an entire rebellion with a single spell.  The mirrors she’d conjured were thought to be indestructible, and the reflections overwhelming in their power. 

Elijah had ignored the latter while shattering the former like they were no more durable than normal glass.

She was defeated, and even if she managed to rise, her powers were insufficient to affect the battle.  For that reason, Zek chose to ignore her crumpled and broken body.

The same could not be said for Marith.  The Bloomless Sovereign presented herself as a woman of the people.  She enabled and enhanced most of the farming efforts back in Ithalon, and she – as well as her followers – worked tirelessly to heal those who’d become injured.

And yet, Zek knew her true heart.

She was the youngest member of the Synod, and as such, Zek had known her in his youth.  Back then, she had been a cruel and petty girl obsessed with her own power.  From what he’d learned upon going back to Ithalon, that hadn’t changed.  She trained her abilities by repeatedly injuring, then healing her captives.  It didn’t result in much experience, but even a trickle was enough to keep her going.

Zek had hated her since the beginning.

More than anyone else, in fact, because she hid behind a façade of kindness.  The others were adept at concealing their true natures as well.  Orvelis and Tessarion both made copious use of illusions and Flesh Molders to hide the evidence of their corruption.  Lurien and his red-robed priests made a show of burning the taint from Ithalon while accepting bribes to ignore the corruption afflicting the upper tiers of the city. 

The others were no different, though Zek wasn’t as familiar with their sins.

It didn’t matter.  They all needed to die so that his people could live.  They had chosen their path the second they’d decided to go against Elijah’s orders.  As he’d said, it was his continent, and he was good enough to allow for the creation of M’yakein.  But he had every right to protect it from the people who’d ruined Ithalon. 

And Zek intended to help him.

Even as Elijah clashed with the enlarged Vhalor, who’d reached a height of more than thirty feet, Zek crept forward.  Doing so was dangerous, but he had Hard Target to protect him from errant attacks.  It wasn’t perfect, but it created a haze of protection that would serve to redirect any attacks not specifically aimed at him.

The new forest helped as well, and he slipped from one tree to the next on his way toward Marith.

When he reached her, she had just begun to recover.  Her face was bloody, which sullied the illusion hiding her corruption.  The result was a blurry visage that was obviously unreal.

Zek ignored it.

She rose to her feet and started casting, obviously with the intention of healing Vhalor.  Elijah could probably overcome that, but Zek had no intention of allowing her to complete the spell.

So, without further ado, he approached her from behind, embraced the simply-named Interrupt, then rammed his dagger into her back.  She stumbled forward, but not from the stab wound.  Instead, she lost her balance because her internal ethera went wild.  The flow reversed, flooding her core. 

It wouldn’t last, but for now, she was incapable of casting another spell.

Zek used Execute Prey, coating his blood-slick dagger in densely corrosive energy.  Then, he grabbed her hair and pulled her head back.  She struggled, but like most of the non-physical members of the Synod, she’d ever neglected her strength and body cultivation. 

Zek had not.

She could not escape his grip.  She clawed at his hands, her fingernails digging into the rubbery black skin but failing to draw blood.  She screamed as he brought his dagger to bear and cut her throat.

Without her healing spells, she couldn’t keep the fountain of blood from escaping through the ragged wound.  It sprayed with forceful pressure, then petered out as her body went limp. 

Zek plunged his dagger through the gaping injury until the blade hit bone.  He yanked against her head, parting flesh as he sawed through her spine.  Even with her lack of body cultivation, she was still a demi-god.  So, it took a long few seconds for the blade to make its way through.

But Zek had always been persistent.  He had also never given much credence to mercy for his enemies.  Especially not now.  Not after a life filled with pain and sacrifice.  Not after being forced to flee his home and watch his wife slowly surrender to the corruption.  Not after burying her mutated corpse. 

And not after seeing them return to finish Dravkein off.

Even as the battle between titans carried on in the distance, rattling the earth with heavy blows, Zek took a small measure of vengeance against one of the people responsible for his life’s ills.

But as her body fell away, separated from her head, he felt no joy in the act.  No satisfaction.  Just a sense of grim justice that he hoped would help to see the battle won.

                          *

The blow rattled Elijah’s bones, resulting in a shockwave that felled nearby trees.  That only served to enrage him further.  He dug his claws into the turf, then threw himself back at the Emerald Tyrant.  Vhalor met him with a shoulder tackle that stopped him in his tracks. 

Elijah snapped his neck forward like a striking snake, wrapping his jaws around Vhalor’s shoulder.  He bit down, his teeth skating off the emerald armor and leaving no evidence of the attack behind.  Meanwhile, Vhalor hammered his fist into Elijah’s chest, sending cracks up and down his sternum. 

The injuries healed after a second, though the diversion of vitality meant that it would take that much longer for the combination of Nature’s Bloom, Wild Resurgence, and Blessing of the Grove to mend the damage done to his organs.  They were only half-formed and entirely non-functional, which slowed him considerably.

Keeping going without a heart or lungs definitely cut into his combat effectiveness.

But Elijah didn’t have the option of retreating.  Not from the man who’d taken the title of Emerald Tyrant upon himself.  The label was offensive, and to the point that Elijah simply refused to tolerate its existence.

So, he continued to fight. 

The armor was the ultimate problem.  It deflected his blows with its nigh indestructibility.  So far, he’d only managed to scratch it.

Their blows shook the new forest as Elijah slowly recovered his health.  Long minutes passed as his ongoing healing spells sapped his store of ethera to mend the damage done to his insides.  His organs gradually rebuilt, though the progress was much slower than he would have liked.

What’s more, it far outpaced his ability to regenerate ethera.  Given the requirements of his draconic form, that was Elijah’s chief concern.  Soon, his core would run dry.  And when that happened, ethera deprivation would begin to set in.

The message was clear.

If he wanted to defeat the Emerald Tyrant, he would not do it in his dragon form. 

However, the news wasn’t all bad, as he discovered when he felt Zek emerge from stealth and brutally murder Marith.  Elijah’s time might be running out, but without the Bloomless Sovereign’s healing, Vhalor’s would end much sooner.