[Voidknight Ascension] Chapter 69: Dark Designs

“Nice,” whispered a voice in the dark.

Sitting in the darkness of his Hidden Realm, Volquist looked around for the source of the speaker. Seeing and sensing nothing, he turned and watched with dismay as Sumet, God of malicious shadows, struck out at the two Incarnates.

With Volquist’s return, he would reclaim his previous role within the Hidden Pantheon, ousting Sumet. The Golden Accord forbade any outward and direct aggression between Gods.

That’s what priests and followers were for, they said.

Volquist had to admit, there was a certain cold logic to it. If the Gods were allowed open warfare between each other, then there would be nothing left to be a God of.

“I’m sorry,” he said to himself in the dark abyss. “My hands are tied.”

If he so much as lobbed a black bolt of lightning at Sumet or countered one of his attacks, it could be seen as an act of warfare.

The irony was not lost on Volquist that he was restrained from committing an act of war while the Incarnate of War was marching to his certain death.

Even as strong as Sam had become, he was powerless against a God’s full wrath. And if Sam was as reckless as Volquist knew him to be, Sumet would be fully within his rights to retaliate with the full breadth of his powers the moment Sam attacked him unprovoked.

And he would because Sam was not the type to let anybody’s interference slide, much less a God’s. It wouldn’t matter if Volquist warned him. Sam was an Incarnate of War. He’d do it just to say he punched a God.

It was one of the weird idiosyncrasies of Godhood. A God could—under certain conditions and with many restrictions—attack a mortal, and that mortal was free to defend themselves.

But if the mortal attacked the God after that?

All bets were off.

Many a hero had been tricked into fighting a God, and it always ended the same way: death.

If Sumet couldn’t strike at Volquist for taking away his power, he would use the Incarnates against him. It didn’t take a genius to see what Sam was. Even with Volquist’s blessing was of questionable efficacy against Sumet.

Perhaps if Sumet was of a different Pantheon, maybe. But Sumet had studied alongside Volquist back when they were mortal.

He knew too much about him and the magicks he employed.

“That’s all?” said a cackling voice in the shadows. “You’re just going to give up on our two heroes?” Somebody snapped their fingers. “Just like that? I guess the stories about your cowardice are true, then!”

The lounging figure of Apostos appeared, all striped in gaudy red-and-black clothing with a mask that was both weeping and laughing.

“Begone from here!” Volquist said with authority.

There was a faint fuzzing of Apostos’ shape before he reasserted himself. A little spike of fear surged through the Hidden God. That should not have been possible.

I’m still weak, he reminded himself. That blessing was more than I could handle.

“I’m not here as your enemy,” Apostos said, feigning a theatrical yawn. “I’m here, in fact, because of our mutual friends.”

Volquist turned back to the dark mirror, showing Sam’s bloody rampage through the demons. He hadn’t noticed what Sumet was doing yet, but for every demon slain, the strength and blood of their fallen was absorbed by another.

With each kill, Sam was robbed of Experience, while the surrounding demons grew stronger and stronger. His rather impressive killing speed ground to a halt.

“Yes, he’s rather spicy, isn’t he?” Apostos said with a laugh. “The Triumvirate especially are interested in their fates.”

Volquist carefully kept his face blank. He didn’t want trouble with the Triumvirate. Few Gods did. They were beholden to a different set of rules, but only they seemed to know them.

You defied the Triumvirate only if you had the full backing of your Pantheon, and Volquist was only recently returned. It would take time to rally the support he once had.

“Simply allow me a teensy tiny part of your domain—I’ll give it back, pinky-promise—and I’ll make this whole usurper-in-waiting Sumet problem go away. The Triumvirate gets what they want. I get to see my besties slaughter some demons, and you get to nip that upstart’s plans in the bud before they come to fruition!”

“What plans?” Volquist asked, unable to hide the curiosity from his voice.

“Oh, you know,” Apostos said, rolling his wrist. “Usurping your rule over the Hidden Pantheon. Out with the old, in the with new, that sort of thing. He has a few fans, you know. Going away for millennia will have that effect on people, even if those people are Gods.”

Volquist looked in the mirror. Sam was in real trouble. Then he looked back at Apostos. He was connected to the Triumvirate in someway, but even as the Hidden God, there were some secrets even he could not pry free.

“All right,” he said. “What would you have me do?”

Clapping his hands enthusiastically, Apostos giggled and floated close enough to drape his arm across Volquist’s narrow shoulders. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”

***

“Nice.”

“What was that, Komachi?”

“Nothin’!” she squeaked as Sam hurled himself at a towering demon in thick spiked armor made of shadow.

He tried to break through their lines, but there were so many. For each demon he cut down, three took its place.

And for some reason, he had stopped getting EXP. It seemed the only thing fueling his strength, but now the demons were getting stronger, and Sam was slowing down.

He could feel it in his bones that something was dreadfully wrong, but in the thick of the battle he struggled to identify what it was.

The frigid shadows were back. Perhaps it was the last shaman.

As another black-clad demon joined the first, Sam reached a decision.

He could stay here all day slaying demons and eventually get overrun, or he could do what they expected least of him so far.

Run.

Raising his sword high above his head, Sam whispered to Komachi, “Hold on and don’t peek out.”

A full [Fury] stacked [Shockwave] slammed into the ground with all of the force he could muster at the same time as Sam jumped forward. The sword crashing into the ground scattered dozens of demons, it even staggered the two heavy hitters who were approaching.

But what it was intended to do, the hordes of demons could not have foreseen.

It was simply too ridiculous.

Riding the forward momentum for all it was worth, Sam tucked himself into a flip and rocketed forward as if he had been launched from a catapult.

He soared over the heads of the demons, who could only look up in surprise.

As Sam had hoped, the demons farther away from him were weaker. Their strength seemed to be feeding off of his kills, and now that he had put sufficient space between him and the other demons, these weren’t quite so difficult to kill.

But he didn’t bother wasting time killing them. He swept out with his sword at shoulder-height, clearing enough space and wounding several in the process. With the three stacks of newly gained [Fury], he launched himself into the air again.

It took Sam two more times to get through the horde of demons and to the base of the last anchorstone.

He saw flashes of Chaos mana go off in the sky. No doubt the hollow version of Raiko was wreaking havoc upon the demons.

Tired and bleeding, with Komachi run ragged and moaning softly in his armor, Sam was just barely able to climb up the final chain.

Below, demons swarmed around the base of the chain. Some began to climb until dullahans led by Raiko charged in and swiped them off. They encircled the anchorstone, blocking any further demons from coming after Sam.

Unlike last time, he did not pull himself up onto the anchor. Using the last of his mana, Sam used [Void: Surge] as soon as he reached beneath the lip of the island.

With the outward pressure giving him some breathing room, Sam pulled himself up and onto the island with all of his strength. He sailed a few feet above the ground.

But where he was expecting prepared demons, he found only one.

This was no demon, by the looks of him. He stepped out of a hole carved into reality. Bone-chilling darkness sapped Sam’s strength, and it was all he could do to stay on his feet.

Komachi whimpered softly in his armor, spurring him to rip out his sword. Sparks sprayed out in an arc. Using his Metal affinity to control them, the sparks formed into molten needles flying at this latest threat.

They struck the shadowy figure, causing him to flinch and stagger backward. His answering smile turned Sam’s spine to ice.

Sam couldn’t shake the feeling that the person had wanted Sam to attack first.

He was so tired, and the pressure of this man standing before him made Sam want to do things he never would willingly do in a million years. He felt a faint, but insistent urge to kneel and grovel, as if he were some baseless worm.

It was easy enough to push away, but it was disturbing all the same.

“So you really are an Incarnate of War,” the shadow-clad man said. His voice was smooth, refined. “I would ask you to join me, but I don’t need that kind of heat. Volquist might be stupid enough to help you out, but you’ll find no such sympathies from me.”

With a sideways swipe of his hand, a blade as dark and thin as a shadow formed in his hand. It practically disappeared when he turned the blade’s edge toward Sam.

“We can do this the hard way if you like,” the god said. “Or you can fall to your knees and I’ll make it quick. Your little friend has already lost her grip. Even if everything went right for you, she’d still try to kill you. Really, I’m doing you both a favor. You have no idea how much pain you’re both in for.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Sam said, holding the [Charred Claymore] out to the side.

“Very well.” He bowed, though never dropped his gaze.

So he’s not completely sure I can’t hurt him, Sam noted.

“You may call me Sumet, and you are?”

“Sam.”

“Ah,” Sumet said with a shark-like grin. “It does my heart good to see that some measure of civility has remained.”

Sam placed a hand over his chest where he had tucked the [Archflame Coal] and began drawing Heat. He needed every advantage he could get.

Strength suffused his limbs once more, and he was ready for the lightning-fast strike when the god attacked.

Even with pulling a vast amount of the coal’s Heat, Sam still felt the biting sting as it sliced through his helm and cut a line of icy fire across his cheek all the way to his ear.

One hand released from his claymore, Sam used [Void: Scour] before Sumet could twist the blade around for a follow-up strike. Banking on the fact that it seemed made of mana, Sam’s hunch paid off as the god’s face twisted in astonished rage.

“There’s no—” he began as the shadow sword fizzled out, the Void mana destabilizing it until nothing remained.

Before Sumet could respond, Sam slashed with his greatsword, cleaving the man from hip to shoulder in a spray of oily golden blood that froze mid-air into tiny crystalline fragments.

They hit the ground with the faint sound of shattered crystal.

Sumet bellowed in rage and though Sam was bracing for it, he couldn’t move in time.

Something had snared his ankle just long enough to prevent him from moving in time.

The kick hit him square in the chest, and he was knocked clear off his feet. The air blasted from his lungs as he slammed into the ground.

“Damn this weak First Layer mana!” the god snarled, putting a hand to his wound. “You think you wounded me? Hah. If I had the time, I would peel the skin from your bones, but you aren’t worth it. To hells with it, I’ll take my chances with the Pantheon. I won’t be done in by the likes of a little upstart like you!”

Black snakes of mana coiled around Sumet’s arm. The air turned hard and sharp like jagged ice crystals. It hurt to breathe. A twisting ball of blackness so deep it warped the surrounding air formed in the god’s palm.

Sam felt something open up beneath his back, as if somebody had just cut away part of the island between his shoulder blades.

Spirit Raiko crested the top of the isle, Chaos mana curling out of her heart. He suspected that her grief-stricken features would be the last thing he saw. She would never make it to him in time, and even then, she couldn’t touch him.

He gave her an encouraging smile, nonetheless. He wouldn’t go out sad or heartbroken.

It had been fun, dammit. Time he wouldn’t trade for anything.

“This is where your story ends, Incarnate.” Sumet threw his head back and laughed as the orb of frozen death fell with terminal slowness toward Sam’s heart.