《Call of the Void》 Lappel du vide Midnight. It had been raining all day, and puddles dotted the sidewalk. Soft, yellow streetlights formed islands of warmth, a reprieve from the biting cold. A man with an umbrella walked along the street, occasionally passing a taxi or a gas station spilling its neon welcome onto the wet pavement. The man seemed indifferent to the world around him - the lights, the cold, the wet. The lone figure walked until he reached an unfinished building, a government project of some sort. The rain had let up now. Folding his umbrella, he climbed the stairs with purpose and a hint of resignation. Tear marks streaked his face. As he reached the top, he lit a cigarette, the smoke wafting away gently. He took his time, savoring every inhale. Our lone figure walked to the edge of the parapet, umbrella cast aside. He grunted in effort as he climbed onto the edge. A good 300 feet stared him in the face. The city stretched out below him, its buildings and streets glowing in the darkness. The rain had picked up again, the drops pattering against the umbrella that lay abandoned on the ground. Without warning, the man leaned forward, his body tipping over the edge. He fell through the air, the wind rushing past him as he plummeted towards the ground. Below, life went on. Residents of the area were sound asleep, comfortable in their warm beds, unaware of what had happened. The rain continued to fall, a constant presence in the city''s night sky. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. As the man fell, his thoughts turned to the events that had brought him to this point. He had always been a dreamer, full of ambition and determination. When he had moved to the city, he had been filled with excitement at the prospect of starting a new life. He had worked hard and made connections, determined to make a name for himself. But things had not gone as he had planned. Despite his best efforts, he had struggled to find his footing in the cutthroat world of the city. He had been passed over for promotions and had lost out on opportunities that he had thought were within his grasp. And when he had finally landed a job that seemed to be his ticket to success, he had quickly realized that it was not the right fit for him. Feeling lost and alone, he had turned to the one place that had always brought him solace - the roof of the unfinished building. He had come up here countless times before, seeking refuge from the chaos of the city. And as he fell through the air, he knew that this would be the last time he would find peace on this roof. As he fell, the man''s thoughts turned to the people he would be leaving behind. He wished he could have said goodbye to them, to tell them how much they had meant to him. But it was too late now. The ground was rushing up to meet him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. As he closed his eyes, he thought of all the things he had left unsaid, of all the dreams he had never gotten the chance to chase. And then, with a final, fleeting thought, he let go. War.Is.Eternal. "Something is amiss" hissed one ASPECT of one reality. "This cannot be undone" seethed another. "How dare he! We ended him, he must pay!" Vehemence given sentience, Abyssal entities screamed for their pound of flesh. "Quiet," whispered the TYRANT. And existence kneeled. "Find him," whispered the gentlest of suggestions And the nightmares obeyed. Verdant green as far as the eye could see, the Nithrel plains were covered in lush, knee-length grass. Woodlands, mountains, and streams snaked through the vast emerald expanse, creating a viridian corridor between the Skytree mountains and the Mist-sea. On these peaceful plains, the 14th army of the Glorious Empire of IMMORAL, 100,000 strong, was besieged by spider-like creatures. Chaos reigned through the ranks as soldiers, ill-equipped to deal with the 14-foot spider-men, fell by the dozen. "We have lost men, Xeral," his second-in-command said, his once well-kempt appearance now gaunt and sunken. "Our flank was ripped apart by the Ver''rack. We need Zeva to hold them off or we risk losing the entire side." The Xeral looked at the man with calm eyes, radiating a palpable aura. Heat roiled off of him in tangible waves. "Authorization - Novum Nocturne septum, the Shrike is hereby activated, Priority - Ver''rack. Tell Zeva to stay out of the line of fire for now," he rumbled, his gravelly baritone echoing through the ranks. "And if their heavy hitters show up?" asked Davian. The air screeched under the immense weight of a plain iron hammer materializing by the side of the Xeral. His ornate gauntlets and breastplate glowing red from being near the potent artifact, its power enough to warp the metal around it to molten slag. His usual dark brown fur burned orange and a vicious smile played upon his Leonid canines. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
The wind sang to Zeva Andross. It always had. It had sung her to sleep as a child, saved her from dangers as a girl, and shed the blood of her enemies as a woman. A tendril of wind grazed her ear, carrying along with it the orders of her Xeral. Its stern tone at odds with its soft caress. "Shrikes," she trilled, "Priority Unus- Ver''rack, engage to eliminate. Adrastea guide us." "Adrastea guide us," barked twelve figures as they leaped with unearthly grace. Garbed in grey and outfitted with instruments of mortality, the Shrike''s talons blurred across the battlefield. The Ver''rack are a sight to behold. And upon beholding, you retch uncontrollably before voiding your bowels from the smell. Pale humanoid torsos grafted onto razor-sharp exoskeletons of spiders. Lipless mouths, lidless eyes, and lobe-less ears ooze tar-like pus. A barbed tongue serpentine in its quest for flesh. Outfitted with bone bows and septic barbs, these hell-spawn make full use of their sinewy appendages to find high ground and bombard enemies with, first their horrendous visage and secondly, poison arrows. Calling them light-armed cavalry would be an understatement. Regardless of how it moved, an 8-foot tall poisonous man-spider could hardly be called ¡®light¡¯. It was towards these scuttling abominations that the Shrike and her talons were gliding towards, not a care in the world. Zeva stopped a good 500 paces before reaching the enemy lines. The Ver''rack''s initial sneak attack had cost many lives before shields could be activated. And they wouldn¡¯t hold long. Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at the defiled bodies of soldiers at the foot of the enemy mound. Her soldiers were not monster trophies. It was all she could do to still the anger raging in her heart. She wanted nothing more than to have her winds shear these abnormalities from her lands. But she had her orders. Unknown dangers still stalk these shadows, and she was needed to deal with any surprises. Above all, her Xeral must be obeyed. "Go," she rasped as 12 shadows darted behind enemy lines. The screaming began. Elite Rangers seldom have problems dealing with monsters whose only saving grace was agility. Masters of the ASPECT of AIR, they carved through their enemies with the ferocity of a razor-sharp tempest. ASPECT must be met with ASPECT; mindless creatures cannot face the might of AIR. Still, Zeva was worried. The winds were restless, they whispered of blood, of pain. Something wasn¡¯t right. She trilled thrice. The shadows didn¡¯t bat an eye, a well-oiled machine they retreated as one, moving back to their leader. One didn¡¯t make it. Three blurs of fire and magma burst from within the lines of the Ver''rack. Zeva was fast, but not fast enough. Burning Flesh and Scouring Wind. The Xeral was quiet as he thought about the whimsical nature of life. He had successfully fought against the cultists and should have received a year''s worth of rest, or even more. Yet, he found himself back on the frontlines, facing challenges such as being undermanned, overwhelmed, and outflanked. He knew he needed to speak with the Prince once he returned to the capital city of Immorilla. He couldn''t help but think about how much he would enjoy a cold Ninkasi beer at that moment. An explosion suddenly broke the Xeral''s thoughts. "Fume Wraiths!!" Davian, the second-in-command, shouted. The Xeral intoned the name "Zeva," a grim look on his face. The term "Fume Wraith" was just a colloquialism. The official record of the Empire referred to the Marakkh Duhn as "semi-sentient creatures from the planes of fire, made of the essence of corrupted flame and sand. A touch would scour the skin off of bones. Barely cognizant of their surroundings, they move so fast they appear like comets, moving from one target to another and devouring them with brutal efficiency." Zeva, the Shrike, was filled with anger as she summoned obsidian plates that hovered in front of her before attaching to her body. She materialized iridescent daggers in her hands and channeled AUM through her legs. A crater appeared where Zeva had stood, but she was nowhere to be seen. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Moving at faster-than-sound speeds, Zeva reappeared in the midst of the incandescent abominations. A shockwave blasted out, tearing off chunks of the nearest Fume Wraith and sending the other two flying into a nearby rockface. The Fume Wraith closest to the epicenter had lost half of its mass, with lava-like blood seeping out of its mangled body. Zeva swung her dagger, using a blade of air to cut through what remained of the elemental. A growl filled the air as the other two Fume Wraiths pulled themselves out of their temporary earthen homes and flew towards Zeva with the stealthiness of a meteor. The ambient temperature was hot enough to sear flesh. Zeva activated enough Vitrium to keep herself from melting and faced the Wraiths head-on. Flashes of light and a litany of sparks dotted the night sky as Zeva fought against the two Wraiths. Cycling compressed air around her daggers, Zeva narrowly avoided molten blows that would have shattered her bones. Her dagger left deep furrows that wept acrid plasma. The Wraiths had sustained a lot of damage, with one stumbling and having its head swiftly cut off. The other soon followed. Zeva panted, the air around her scalding, as her obsidian armor disassembled and revealed deep welts on her arms and face. The battle had been short, but it had burned through half of her reserves. "That woman was right," Zeva thought to herself as she tightly held onto her daggers, with blood dripping from her fist and staining the grass. "Three Fume Wraiths, one casualty," Davian reported. Rex Vitor, the large Leonid general, growled, "And?" "Dealt with. And before you ask, she''s fine. But we have bigger problems on our hands," Davian replied. "We have a Summoner at the crystallization stage." "Or higher," the Xeral finished. Excrement hitting air machine There are a few grammar errors in the passage you provided. Here are the corrected versions: "Nade had just shat his pants." "GRUARGGGGGGHHHAHHHHHHHHHHHHH screamed the man-spider flesh monstrosity, outside a hastily erected AUM barrier. Nade was surrounded by the corpses of his former fellow men-at-arms. To say that Nade was taking it well would be an outright lie, as he was on the ground babbling incoherently." "SMACK! ''Get a hold of yourself, soldier!!'' his captain yelled inches away from his face. The hit to the head shut Nade up, more out of shock than anything else. He had almost ended up like the corpses at his feet until, miraculously, the barrier came back on at the last second. The Verrack''s scythe-like feet were inches from his face. Nade was silent. Stumbling over the dismembered bodies, he made his way up and stuttered, ''What do we do, Captain?''" "''Adrastea willing, the shields will hold for some time, at least,'' turning to his men he yelled, ''Gather up the dead, get their tags. Their families need to know.'' Gritting his teeth, Captain Xandr spat out, ''When I get my hands on you, spider cock suckers, I will cut those limbs off and shove them up your asses, all eight of them.'' Turning back to Nade, Xandr''s expression softened. ''You''re off combat, kid. Help with clearing out the fallen.'' Xandr left to muster up what remained of the company into fighting shape." "Nade stood silently, blocking out the screams of the Verrack, the cries of his injured company men, and the explosions in the distance. He then proceeded to pick up the nearest body and carry it away from the barrier." Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! "The Verrack split into two. The top half slid off, spilling black intestines and blood. Zeva and her Talons were doing what they were supposed to before the Wraiths had struck, which had gotten her thinking." "The army was trapped on the Nithrel plains, a sea of short grass providing little to no cover against flanking enemies, flecked with small hills and boulders on one side and the sea on the other. They had been snuck up on during the night, despite not seeing anything for many days." "The enemy seemed to be 10,000 strong or thereabouts, but the element of surprise, along with their monstrous disposition, had left almost 20,000 of their own dead or out of commission." "An enemy that had suddenly appeared out of thin air, the barrier failing at the exact wrong moment. The Verrack weren''t even native to the Nithrel. The army was a country away from the Desolation, where the Verra''ck were native to. How had anybody managed to transport so many of these abominations into civilized lands, with neither hide nor hair of them ever being reported? ANGHU''L infestations were a first priority to be wiped out. They were literally called the flesh plague for the reason that they could bolster their numbers with the dead. Forbidden curse-work was privy only to the Corpse Raisers beyond the Bulwark of Desolation." "''Traitors,'' seethed Zeva. ''Powerful space magic was at play here. It seemed like the cultists, her Xeral had recently rooted out, had tendrils deeper than anyone realized.''" "A gut-wrenching feeling shook her from her bloody reverie, and she looked back in horror as cracks spiderwebbed across clear air. It looked like beautiful fractals tracing their way into the sky, as if a celestial had created a tapestry of AUM. Everyone''s breath caught for a single moment until the vision of lines shattered." "The barrier was down. And Nade had just pissed himself." BODY SLAM!!! Things were looking dicey for the Glorious 14th army of the IMMORALL empire. The moment the barrier fell, a swarm of spiders met with the Imperial army. The Verrac''k started tearing through the ranks, limbs flying, blood spurting. Carrion eaters swarmed above, their gluttonous squawks reaching a crescendo over the massacre. Men and women stood side by side, facing the abominations that would snuff out their lives with steel in their eyes and sorrow in their hearts. The Void welcomes all comers. Blood dripped from Zeva''s brow. Exhausted, she still swung her mortal instruments. With arms like lead and blood leaking out of her various wounds, she could barely summon her wind. Still, every swing of her blades brought down another one of the hell-spawn. Bodies lay everywhere. Many of them were from her side. Gritting her teeth, she resumed her grisly work. She wouldn''t stop until she died or they did. The barrier had bought them precious time to get reorganized. The flanks had moved back, and the shields were up. Archers were firing in full swing. Ranged magic peppered the Verrac''k, taking down their larger monsters. The front line was holding. Spearmen being replaced with fresh troops every push. The cavalry of armored quadrupeds flanked and herded the Verrac''k into the range of the Casters. Zeva and her Talons took on some of the larger abominations, sowing chaos amongst their ranks. Things were starting to turn around. BOOM. An explosion shook the battlefield, bodies flying everywhere. A giant horned beast made of magma and breathing clouds of ash knelt in the center of a crater, a crater in the middle of their army. "ROWWWWWWWWRRRRRR" bellowed the beast, a call to battle. Desperation filled the eyes of the regiment. Twenty feet tall and radiating enough heat to melt armor, the Greater Pyre Daemon exhaled. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. A maelstrom erupted from its mouth, vaporizing those poor souls unlucky enough to be near its arrival. Zeva fell to her knees. Taking on a lesser Daemon with full reserves was a task unassailable. Here stood a greater behemoth, reaping dozens by the second. A meteor dotted the sky, its parabolic path tracing an incandescent line in the inky black expanse. The daemon lifted its head, sensing something. Wings of flame erupted from its back. It erupted from the ground almost as fast as the meteor it sought to meet. The impact was cataclysmic, the resulting blast knocking the army to their knees. Visions were blinded by the light emitted. The daemon had been knocked well clear of the army. Shaking its head, it bellowed in rage as its mangled arm hung limply by its side, snorting clouds of cinder. It lumbered towards a lone figure floating in front of it. The Xeral did not look pleased. Flexing his dented gauntlet, he raised his Warhammer, now looking like a miniature sun. Roaring in challenge, the Leonid met the Daemon head-on. The daemon raised its arms high above, as though to pummel the lion into the ground. The Xeral thrust at the monster''s face, forcing it to step back. Wasting no movement, he brought down the hammer on the monster''s knee. A swift side spin building momentum and BOOM, the daemon flew into a nearby boulder. Growling in impotence, the creature of ash and heat thundered out and towards him. Only to meet a hammer to its face that promptly pushed it back. The Xeral was brutal in his power and clinical in his movement. Meeting the Daemon''s fist with his mighty hammer, knocking it aside ever so slightly with his long handle. He swung in arcs, forcing the monster into his rhythm. Building more and more momentum until he brought the hammer down on the chest of his assailant, cratering the ground. The Xeral held his foe down as luminous blood escaped the crushed chest of the Greater Daemon. Its mouth frothed and snapped, desperate to get back up. The hammer emitting blinding light, veins bulging on the Xeral''s hand as he channeled ever-increasing essence into his skill. The hammer and its prey sinking deeper and deeper into the ground as the weight of it grew tumultuously high. A single pillar of light pierced the night sky, and upon its recession stood a smoking Leonid atop a carbonized corpse. Taut The Xeral, a formidable lion-man, stepped off the smoking corpse of the daemon and flexed his hand to check for damage. The creature had managed to mangle his gauntlet, causing blood to seep through the cracks and snapping sounds to signify that his monstrous regeneration was already working on his injuries. If there were no more surprises, the rest of the creatures should be defeated and this disastrous night could be brought to an end. He turned sharply towards a patch of land some distance away, where burning lines started etching themselves into the short grass and a sudden conflagration of flames seared out. The air filled with the smell of burning flesh, and when the smoke cleared, a hooded figure emerged. Dressed in black from head to toe and emanating a foul smell, the Xeral''s nose wrinkled in disgust as he pulled his hammer from the corpse and eyed this new threat. "The Vitor''s reputation isn''t unfounded, it seems," spoke a chorus of inhuman voices from within the hood. It was as though the hood held more than one face inside. "Are you the Summoner?" the Xeral barked, his hammer beginning to glow slightly as his patience wore thin. "Summoner," the voices scoffed. "Such a crude term, spoken like a true primitive, brute! We are an instrument, an instrument through which my masters will reshape this rotting plane into something worthy of their adoption. I hope you have been thankful for their gifts." "Great, another nutcase," the Xeral thought to himself. "Why did you attack us?" he asked, his voice dripping with impatience. Stolen story; please report. "Do you truly not know?" the voices mocked, the hood bobbing up and down in exaggerated mirth as webbed hands clutched its robe. "Why are you here with an army?" The Xeral hesitated for a moment before replying. "To claim a new leyline that showed up, or at least that''s what the FarSought told the Prince," he thought to himself. "Classified, creature. That''s on a need-to-know basis, and you don''t need to exist," he said aloud, his voice firm and unyielding. "Very scary, Leonid," the voices muttered in apparent calm. "Save your empty threats. Whatever reason you were told, well... I assume that isn''t the truth. The Farsought''s sight was muddled." The Xeral raised an eyebrow, no longer relaxed. Red trails of Vitrium lifted off his body as he took a battle stance, his muscles tensing as he prepared for a fight. "What do you mean?" the lion-man asked, his tone brooking no argument. "A Voyager is upon us," the voices screeched, their tone filled with excitement. "And my masters claim him." "Shit," the Xeral thought to himself, his mind racing. "Davian? Davian?" he thought, surprised that he couldn''t find an ounce of Th''um within him. "Oh, by the way, mind-speak won''t work right now," the voices mused, their tone casual and unconcerned. The Xeral let out a growl of frustration. "Your pets have all but been slain," he said, his voice laced with anger. "How do you think you''re going to claim this Voyager for your maggot lords?" The hood turned, all pretense of friendliness gone. "Watch your tongue, fish bait!! Those fools behind you are half dead and a quarter beaten into the ground, but your tongue will be my-" Before the creature could finish its threat, a red gash split the sky from horizon to horizon, like a bloody eye of an uncaring primordial looking down on all below. The Xeral watched as the sky was torn open, a feeling of dread settling in his stomach. Augur of Rot A crimson line split the sky in half. Bolts of supercharged lightning, multifarious and prismatic, struck the ground. Chunks of rock levitated, pulled towards the gargantuan spatial rend that dominated the inky sky. The ambient temperature rose sharply, despite being near the sea. The Xeral tore his eyes off of the apocalyptic scene and gazed warily at the hooded being. It had its hand raised in the air as though praying to some old god who lived beyond the red-tinged expanse. The Xeral saw his chance and took it. Fiery Aum exploded under his feet as he blasted towards the hood, hammer raised in preparation. "Tut-tut," admonished the hood, as he stepped back into a portal of black just as the Leonid swung, the hammer mere finger-lengths away. The mound exploded as dirt and clumps of grass rained from above. "Tsk," muttered Rex. Looking around warily, his Energy sense crippled, the same as his Mind-speak. Rituals targeting them were forbidden in the Empire. Yet here he found himself in one. This was not an enemy to be taken lightly. Tentacles the width of human torsos sprang from beneath the ground too fast to react to, coiling around the Xeral and grunting as he was brought to his knees. "Now stay still as your betters do their work," spat the voices as the hood materialized some distance away. A large portal opened and from it poured figures dressed as the hood itself, but seemed somehow lesser, wisps of black wafting from their cloth robes. "Thralls," thought the Xeral. As the new figures got to work, retrieving barrels of reagents from personal warped spaces. No time was lost as they burnt swathes of grassland in preparation for their eldritch ritual. The tentacles contracted to bring him lower. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. "I have to ask," spoke the voices. "How did you kill Raz''ghul, when you stumbled upon his demesne?" Rex looked up. "You mean the cult head in Immorilla?" Lost in thought, he replied, "I burnt him." "I find that highly unlikely, Kitten. You can hardly shake off the grasp of a Silt-Walker. I don''t think you could have hurt an Elder Priest by your lonesome," mused the voices overseeing the complex script work. Now more than a house in width and rapidly filling up. "No, just me," replied the Leonid calmly, even as tentacles the size of young trees constricted his entire body. Discreetly, he retrieved an amulet from his vambrace and crushed it. The red stone cracked instantly. "Signal stones are useless here. If Mind-speak is barred within my barrier, how well do you think your little trinket will fare?" spoke the voices, without the hood turning around. The etching seemingly finished, the thralls - all 64 of them - stood in a fractal within the spellwork. The hood retrieved a tarnished mirror and placed it in the center. The voices started chanting. "Itsukh, Malmein, Gorgoth, nakveen hisrutha neelan Ikvar!!!" "The thralls retrieved bone daggers from their robes and, in a single moment, plunged them into their chests. Falling down in grotesque synchronicity, streams and rivulets of blood escaped the fallen and rose to trace themselves toward the mirror, now pitch black and crackling with umbral energy. A door in black appeared, made of rotting wood and broken bones lined with cursed runes. It swung open, and a giant stepped out of it, easily twice the size of the hood. Clad from head to toe in bone armor, the bleached bone shone an eerie red as it caught the light of the red gash above. The earth shook with each step the giant took, and purple swirls of energy were visible through the eye slits in the serpentine helm. The Xeral''s breath caught in his chest. "An Augur of ROT," he thought in horror. "If this thing reaches civilization, we would lose thousands." His mind whirring, he decided he needed to buy some time. The Augur turned to look at him, then turned to the hood. "When is the Voyager due?" Its voice shook the Leonid''s very soul, and it was inhuman and murderous. The hood, on its knees since the Augur had arrived, spoke in exaggerated deference. "The time is upon us, O great Augur. The Star corridor is almost at its zenith, and anytime now the Prophet of our Lords shall grace us." "Good," rumbled the incarnation of genocide. The tentacles started to smoke." One Punch Lion A deafening boom echoed across the grasslands, followed by the sound of smoking tentacles thudding to the ground. A fiery figure stood tall, his orange glow in stark contrast to the sickly red tinge of the plains. The Augur did not move or react. The hood took this as a signal to float towards the Leonid. "You should have stayed quiet, Kitten," the voices from the hood admonished. The earth around them broke apart as various abominations emerged from the ground. Thin, pallid figures with knobs of bone sticking out of their spines, and serrated claws dripping with noxious ooze appeared. Ten Greystalkers stood in front of the hood, their raptorial legs twitching as they glared at the Xeral, the rattle emanating from their oblong, ridged heads. With no visible eyes and a large, jagged mouth filled with bony teeth, these predators looked like they had been ripped from a nightmare. Behind the stalkers stood two Greater Frost Daemons, larger than their deceased comrade who still stood smoking in the distance. The hood''s hands crackled with purple lightning as it floated above its eldritch soldiers. The Xeral assessed his opposition, then dropped his giant warhammer, which vanished into motes of light. Two shorter, spiked hand-hammers appeared in his hands, already glowing white. Etched scriptwork pulsed along the length of each spike. His armor turned a vibrant orange, and the earth at his feet glowed with incandescent light, waves of heat rolling off his muscular frame. An uneasy silence fell over the stand-off, the ever-present stalkers rattling a morbid beat. The Xeral burst forward, explosions beneath his feet propelling him like a comet. The stalkers glided forward rapidly, their feet barely touching the ground. The retinue of stalkers parted like a wave in front of the Xeral, doubling back towards him as he headed towards the daemons, hammers held at his side. Swerving sharply, he barely avoided a bolt of purple lightning that struck the ground behind him. "Slippery little Kitten, stay still why don''t you," cackled the voices in the hood as it hurled bolt after bolt at the Xeral. The Leonid used his controlled explosions to zigzag towards the icy behemoths. Pillars of dirt exploded behind him as the chaotic energies missed their elusive target. The air hummed with the Xeral''s speed. "The big ones first," he decided, reversing his grip and swinging towards the first daemon. This one was warier than its dead predecessor, stopping just beyond the range of the swing and breathing a cone of crystalline frost over the area. The Xeral swerved to the side at the last moment, catching only a fraction of the blast, his right arm frozen solid. This put him in the way of an empowered kick from the second daemon, which hit him in the chest and sent him flying about fifty feet back. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. With a significant dent in his breastplate and a thin line of blood trailing from his nose, the Xeral stood up, grunting in pain. Without warning, he swerved sharply to the right as a gash opened on his arm, blood staining the grass. A faint rattling surrounded him. Cycling his considerable energy, he struck the ground with both hammers, releasing a blast wave that threw the stalkers back and disrupted their camouflage. Jumping towards the nearest one, he intended to drive a spike through its head. The Xeral''s world turned purple as the hood''s lightning finally found its target. He fell with a heavy thud, half of his breastplate charred. The armor seemed to have taken the worst of the hit. Still, burned fur snaked up his neck. "Here, Kitty, Kitty," mocked the hood. Expressionless, the stoic Leonid stood up. Sighing, he flexed his arm, shattering the stubborn ice that immobilized it. He snapped his fingers and his damaged armor disappeared in a flash, leaving him clad in simple clothes. Rex Vitor clasped his hands together as if in prayer, an ornate gold ring on his index finger levitating in front of him. Rex''s form vanished behind a pearly glow as the hood looked on. In no time, the glow disappeared, revealing a steel titan clad from head to toe in polished steel etched with powerful scriptwork. The ring fit itself into a slot in the center of his helmet, and an angry red line glowed across the face of the helmet. The armor caught fire, the inferno growing higher and higher until it was difficult to see the armored figure within. It was like looking into a forge. The hood shifted uneasily. It had been told that the general was at the cusp of bonding with his element, but it seemed like they had faulty information. Without warning, the tall furnace compressed into a glowing humanoid figure in a runner''s stance. The air screamed as the figure rocketed towards the hood, leaving a molten furrow on the plains as it tore forward. The daemons didn''t stand a chance as the molten figure punched a hole through one and tore off the other''s head in passing. In the time it took to blink, the glowing warrior was in front of the hood, his fist cocked and ready to unleash his massive momentum. The Xeral punched. A blastwave tore apart the mound they were on, carrying forward land and leaving the ground bare and damaged for hundreds of feet. The hood lay prone at the edge of the blastwave, heaving and convulsing, missing an arm as black blood spilled from its wound. At the site of the explosion, the Xeral stood with his fist outstretched and caught in the palm of the Augur, which calmly evaluated the threat in front of him. The hand with which it caught the punch glowed red, cracks running up its bone greaves. The Xeral''s meteoric glow receded fast. The Augur punched and the Xeral''s world went black. Free Fallin The Xeral awoke to find himself looking up at a red sky, a cosmic gash staring him in his face. With great effort, he heaved himself up. Knees buckling and barely able to hold his own weight. He could see the Augur in the distance, floating towards him at a fair clip. Upturned and burning grassland encompassed much of the entire distance between him and the Augur, like the ground had turn liquid and a huge wave had crashed out. Blood dripping out of his nostrils, he felt his chest. His chest-piece had completely caved in on one side. His helmet nowhere to be seen. Agony racked his body, pain the only thing keeping him conscious. His regeneration working over time ti heal his collapsed lungs. Buckling to his knees, he just hoped he had bought enough time. The Augur was only a few hundred feet away from him now, a potently toxic, luminiscent green mist swirling around it, suffusing the cracks in its greaves. The Xeral felt his already weakened vitality starting to drain as the horror flew close. Rex had used almost everything up his sleeve, there was one card left to play but that meant certain death. He had already been setback a significant amount of progress using the Shatterstar armor. A faint twinkle in the sky caught Rex''s eye. He turned to look and almost heaved a sigh of relief. In the passing of a moment., the twinkle grew to reveal a giant ball of glowing plasma heading towards them. The Augur''s head snapped up as he noticed the incandescent projectile and he growled, a low throaty and terrifying noise. At a few hundred feet up, the plasma dissipated like a wilting flower to reveal an outrageously beautiful woman dressed in white furs. A cape, voluminous and plump, draped her covered shoulders. White leather gloves, wreathed what must have been slender hands. A diamond black as night was held upon an ample bosom covered by alabaster leather. Platinum hair held askance by what must have been magic surely, for not a strand was out of place despite the ridiculous velocity with which she made her entrance. Her entire being seemed to glow. Her regal bearing and aquiline nose held up as disinterested ruby eyes looked around until they found the broken figure of Rex. Rage flashed through her crimson irises, her glow intensifying for a minute until she regained her stoic disposition. Landing gently near the Xeral, she spoke. Her voice seemed to make reality a tad bit heavier. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. " Already on your knees for your Master, I see", she asked sarcasticaly " Apologies, teacher. I have no excuses" croaked Rex. " No student of mine shall lay broken on the ground" her displeasure had been made clear . It took everything Rex had to pull himself to his feet. " Yes Ma''am" he replied. Lighting shuddered in the air, and a cage of plasma materialzed in front of the Lady in white. A bone greave wrapped in green mist snapping off of it, sparks flying like a firework display. The Augur grunting in pain. The Lady''s eyes narrowed. " Do you not know that it is rude to interrupt such a touching reunion ? " she asked dangerously. The Augur took his time in replying, speaking mechanically. " Greetings to the Princess of the Burning Skies". " Pray tell me, what is an Augur doing this far from the DESOLATION?" asked the Plasma wielder non-chalantly . The Augur pointed up toward the Red Gash, " My Masters have claimed this bounty" it spoke. " So much scheming, so much treachery, so much corruption. Nevertheless, all of your carefully laid plans shall go to waste. Only for the simple reason that I am here" declared Yuri Andross, as lightning gathered at her fingertips. Spears of plasma formed high above her, tens turned into hundreds of floating javelins of pulsating energy. " Now" she declared "Dance for me". Get down, get down and move it all around A noxious green mist, thick and cloying, erupted out of the Augur as spears of white death screamed towards it. In a split second, luminiscent green fumes covered the battlefield, the Augur disappearing into the sickly haze. Thunderclaps signified the spears had reached earth. Yuri seemed unperturbed, waving her hand once made 20 of the spears drop in a circle around her, warding her and the Xeral from the corrosive fumes. Her eyes glowed a darker shade of red as she sought out her prey. Without warning, she stepped to the side as the ground beside her exploded. The dust cleared to reveal a large bone scythe embedded into the ground, curved and serrated, its handle connected to a chain that extended above. The Augur yanked the chain, the scythe cleaving the ground like wet paper heading towards the Princess. She side-stepped it deftly, her movements hardly visible to the Xeral. The scythe returned back to the Augur''s hand, unable to find its target. The Augur quickly retreated into the mist, Yuri''s eyes narrowed. Plasma crept up her body from her toes, like liquid armor, it encased every inch of her body. The living thunderbolt then flashed inside the mists in hot pursuit of her quarry. Sounds of battle, distant and dream-like, echoed through the ghastly landscape. Sounds of weapons and thunderclaps reached the Xeral''s ears, although faintly, as though they were underwater. An uneasy silence followed. A white lance seared into the Xeral''s eyes, blinding him. Grunting in pain, he doubled over, waiting for the dots in his vision to recede. A few moments later, he gingerly opened his eyes to find the mist dispersing and to see a pillar of light piercing the skies. A tower of pure energy with no end in sight seemed to reach for the bloody gash that painted the horizons. "Princess of the Burning Skies indeed," muttered the Xeral. His Master landed gently in front of him. She held her hand out, her fingers holding a fibrous cluster of roots shaped vaguely like a heart. The Xeral took it wordlessly, biting into it. A palpable expression of relief crossed his face. He got up to his feet, seemingly with little effort, as he wolfed down the rest of the strange plant matter. His eyes found a large arm clad in white bone smoking some distance away. "It got away," said Yuri, cold rage marring her face. "Are you alright?" she asked, rage morphing into concern. "I was careless, Teacher. The Marrowrrot took care of the worst of it. I will be fine in a few hours," the Xeral replied. "You are not ready to go after Augurs, O'' idiot pupil of mine. Now, what do you know about that?" she asked, pointing to the skyborne phenomenon which seemed to be getting closer somehow, primordial energies crackling at the edges of the gargantuan spatial rip. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. "A hooded creature mentioned something about a voyager. The Forlorn Deities have worked a Summoning, I was told. It also said the reason we didn''t know was because someone or something stopped the FarSought''s sight," the Xeral replied. Yuri raised her eyebrows. "Someone muddled Her vision? That is concerning," she said. As if on cue, the air stilled. The spatial tear contracted as if folding in on itself, it was like watching a wounded titan heal itself in real time. A symphony of reds contracted to a single point and exploded in a shockwave so huge that the powers of the world stopped their mysterious doings and turned towards the sky. The maelstrom they saw paled in comparison to the turmoil in their hearts. A time of great upheaval was upon this plane, and many millions would suffer in the coming days. The future was bleak and uncertain. The Void corridor vanished as if it had never existed, winking out behind the plane-shattering shockwave high in the sky. Teacher and student watched intently, hoping to lay eyes on the plane that now called their home.
Aaron had been falling for a long time. He didn''t know if it had been days, weeks, or months. After he decided to end it all, he found an abandoned apartment complex that had never been built past its concrete skeleton and jumped off of it. The reprieve from stimuli that he had craved did not arrive. The pavement did not arrive. In fact, nothing seemed to have come. There was no light, no sounds, and no sense of direction. Just infinite black on all sides. He didn''t know if he was floating or falling. After voiding the contents of his stomach within the first few minutes (or hours, who knows really?), and watching the bile and detritus disintegrate in front of his eyes, Aaron gulped and tears streamed from his eyes. He didn''t know what sort of Lovecraftian horror would crawl out for snack time. He had always been afraid of the dark, ever since he was a kid. Sleeping with the light on as an adult warranted considerable heckling from his acquaintances. "Acquaintances, not friends," he thought miserably. After an indeterminate amount of time, most of which was spent contemplating the nature of the fever dream he found himself in, Aaron saw a horizontal line of white getting bigger slowly. "So he was falling," he realized. Before his mind could comprehend, he crossed the light and found himself looking down at a world of green. He imagined hearing a chuckle as he crossed over from the dark. Cold! The wind was freezing, shearing into his body. His cotton shirt provided absolutely no respite as he free-fell onto what seemed to be an ocean of green. Aaron screamed in terror as the green filled all of his vision now, regretting his decision to ever kill himself. Regret flashed inside his head over and over again. Until suddenly, the wind wasn''t as harsh anymore. He opened his eyes out of reflex to find himself slowing down. He slowly touched down on knee-length grass, crumpling unceremoniously onto the waiting ground. He breathed in and out for what seemed like an eternity, until a face came into view - chocolate-colored with light brown eyes. This person was gazing at him with a terse expression. Aaron shifted around on instinct, trying to get back, and that was when he was horrified to find the presence of a sludge-like intrusion going "squish" within his pants. The dusky beauty crinkled her nose in disgust. Chapter -11 - Hail Mary Aaron Wren was never the most courageous person, nor was he particularly stoic of mind. Existential angst had permeated Aaron''s soul for as long as he could remember. The poor lad felt out of place at his own office. Being thrown into fantastical landscapes through a vacuum of nothing did wonders for the already suicidal millennial''s fractured mind. Aaron woke up with a gasp. His chest ached, and his breaths were ragged and uneven. A splitting headache and vertigo assailed him as he tried to get his bearings. As his breathing evened out and his vision returned, he found himself atop a spartan mattress with no pillows, bed sheets, or bed frame. He seemed to be in a tent of green canvas. The hard ground met his bare feet as he tried to gingerly heave himself off the mattress. His headache abating somewhat, he tried to make sense of his predicament. "Amnesia," he thought. "Hit my head on the pavement, somehow survived, got taken to the hospital, and between then and now, the brain damage wiped it clean." As hard as he tried, he couldn''t shake the feeling that the ground beneath his feet would open up and swallow him into an endless abyss, or that it somehow already had. Stomach-churning desperation set in, and Aaron tried to salvage his rapidly descending sanity, to no avail. Everything from black market organ traders to kidnappers to cults to crime syndicates crossed his mind. Aaron started muttering fervently, "No suture marks, I don''t owe anyone money, haven''t been to church in a while, what is happening?" Pinching the bridge of his nose hard, he stood there letting the weight of the situation dissipate. It felt surreal, movie-like. "Is this the Nolan alternate universe?" his strained mind ventured. The whiplash of finding himself alive in unrealistic circumstances after resigning to die promoted a bittersweet dissonance across his being. Wanting to live on but feeling the weight of his life and failures across his chest was profoundly sad. Heaving a sigh, he started walking towards a seam holding the flap of the tent. Fatalism seemed to be the only way to preserve his mental faculties, he decided. Come what may. A battered lion, a bruised warrior, and an impeccably dressed woman were looking at the rendering of a barefoot man in a green tent, seemingly moving in slow motion. A thin pane of water, many feet across, seemingly a portal into the tent that currently housed the Voyager. A visibly shaken Zeva asked in horror, "Is this what I think it is?" If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Without removing her ruby eyes from the moving picture, Yuri replied, "This is just an AUM chronicle, dear. Did you forget? You had many as a child." Nothing but the pursing of her lips betrayed Zeva''s tension. "Mother," she began. Without turning back, Yuri continued, "We don''t have a WEAVER here, Zeva. The Voyager seems to have no traces of AUM in his being. We''re slowing his brain down with focused TH''UM. That''s why he seems to be moving so slow." Zeva''s shoulders relaxed a tad. "What do you think?" Yuri asked, this time to a neat, well-kempt woman. Her hair was in a tight bun, and military badges burnished her uniform with perfect creases. Drill Sergeants across the multiverse would have been proud. The only chaos about her was the kaleidoscopic colors shimmering and morphing across her eyes. "Voyager Z2411 is a bipedal hominid. Dimensional attunement-induced malaise is evident, and his mental state has shifted from confusion, desperation, desolation, briefly rage, and grief to finally resignation. Based on his initial reaction to his surroundings, the Voyager does not seem to have had any combat training. Poor musculature and an inability to regulate breathing indicate a lack of physical conditioning. Aberrant Th''um patterns in his brain also suggest maladies of personality and fragmentation of self, although he seems to have a scholarly disposition. I would presume the alien to be substantially lacking any authority of significance in his home plane, given his complete lack of any of the associations of authority, insignias, or markings of any sort. Also, based on the contraptions on his person and a sample of his clothing, I would assume he hails from a semi-automated civilization with comparatively rudimentary energy and information storage. The complete absence of AUM, though rare, has been documented in certain planes. Without an actual interrogation, this is as much as we would get from the AUM chronicle," she narrated briefly. "Thank you, Velci," drawled Yuri, seemingly distracted. "This person sitting here could possibly alter our very future. Is he here as a curse potent enough to end us, or is he a bastion against the evil we fight?" she murmured uneasily. "Do we kill you or keep you?" She seemed lost in thought. "Do you think it''s an act, Rex?" she asked the Xeral quietly. "Most possibly," grunted the Leonid. "Voyagers have single-handedly caused great upheaval, good or bad. Every single one has been a myth. They are almost always chosen because they are on top of their native plane''s food chain, through power or polity. This one could be a talented and malicious manipulator. His lack of AUM does not disarm me. You were the one who taught me that there are many forms of strength, Teacher." "Well then, I guess it''s time to be a hypocrite," smirked Yuri Andross as she strode towards the entrance of their large command tent, leaving behind her stunned student and daughter. Come what may. Chapter -12 - A FATEFUL MEETING As he touched the canvas flap of his tent, Aaron was surprised by how smooth it felt. He stood there, frozen, his heart pounding in his chest and his stomach feeling like a bag of rocks. He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and pulled the flap back, letting in a flood of sunlight. When his eyes adjusted, he saw that he was in the middle of a clearing that was the size of a city block. The ground was bare dirt, and the clearing was surrounded by walls of onyx with ramparts on top. The walls glistened in the sun. As Aaron turned around, he saw that the entire wall was a circle, with his tent in the center. The ramparts were manned by armored humanoids who were much larger than normal humans. He realized that they were "much, much larger." Feeling overwhelmed and disoriented, Aaron stumbled back to his tent, but it had disappeared into golden light, leaving no trace behind. He heard footsteps and turned to see a nine-foot-tall woman dressed in all white striding towards him. Her ruby eyes seemed to bore into him, and Aaron had never felt such an intense, inquisitive gaze. The woman spoke in a voice that was as imposing as her stature, saying something that Aaron couldn''t understand. He thought to himself, "What is she saying? Where am I?" He had a brief vision of falling through endless blackness and felt nausea and vertigo wash over him as his knees buckled. He managed to croak out, "Who are you? Where is this?" The giant woman raised an eyebrow and pulled out a glass pane the size of a book from her cloak. Aaron''s horror increased as he realized that she had a cloak. He had a vision of a green planet and a black maw swallowing him up as he fell. The woman spoke in a perfect imitation of his own voice, asking, "Who are you? Where is this?" The glass pane lit up, and then everything went black. The woman sighed and said, "Tch." Suddenly, a loud roar came from above, shouting, "YURII!" Aaron looked up to see a lion-man falling towards them, decelerating faster than seemed physically possible. The anthropomorphic lion took a fighting stance, and Aaron realized that he was expecting combat. It hit him that he was not on Earth. Yuri Andross was not a person who acted without thinking or was indecisive, but the excitement of potentially facing a threat to civilization overwhelmed her usual calm demeanor. Could this be an agent of fate, a legendary Voyager? Yuri had heard stories about the last Voyager, known only as ABSOLUTE, who was defeated by the deity Adrastea herself. The thought of facing such a formidable opponent filled Yuri with bloodlust. However, as she looked at the alien, she felt nothing. There was no sense of danger, no fear emanating from him. In fact, the aura of the supposed predator felt weak and insignificant. The kid was barely able to stand. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Yuri thought to herself, "What a disappointment. The idiot gods that summoned him must have finally let the rot go to their head. They screwed up." Rex, the lion-man, dropped down beside her, ready to tear the alien to pieces. The kid slowly raised his hands, showing no signs of using grand spells or summoning forbidden energies. There wasn''t even a breeze caused by his power. Even Rex seemed confused. It was clear that this was an ordinary human. Yuri knew that the AUM, the empire''s children, would be able to beat him easily. "He''s small," Rex said. Yuri dryly commented, "Brilliant observation, Rex." Rex asked, "What do we do?" Yuri replied, "Put on the biggest Leech-lock we have. The chronicle hasn''t encountered his language before, so we''ll have the Scribes communicate with him and see what he knows." The Xeral barked, "What level of containment?" Yuri answered, "Me," and sent electricity pulsing from her fingers, causing Aaron to convulse and fall to the ground. For the second time that day, Aaron woke up feeling terrible. This time, he was strapped to a metal chair and wearing something that seemed like a straight jacket. He groaned, "Fucccccckkkkk." Across from him sat a man dressed in a black Chinese-style cheongsam, wearing Lennon spectacles and with slick-backed hair and an intelligent glimmer in his eyes. The man was holding the same glass pane that the tall woman had held earlier, and he was also large. The man pointed at himself and said, "ARJUN." He then pointed at Aaron and said, "Aaron." Arjun spoke slowly and smiled. He pointed to various objects in the room, which looked like a field hospital, and named them quickly. Aaron struggled to stay awake and focused, feeling exhausted and in pain. His attention was flagging and his head began to loll. Arjun stood up, held Aaron''s chin, and slipped a square paper strip into his mouth. Aaron suddenly felt a surge of energy, feeling free from pain and fatigue for the first time since arriving in this unfamiliar place. With a big smile mirroring Arjun''s, Aaron opened his mouth to speak when a ground-shaking explosion shook the tent, wiping the smiles off both their faces. Chapter -13- No rest for the wicked "This entire deployment has been a headache," mused Rex. "First, we were attacked by the Verrack, then an Augur of all things. Finally, the Voyager arrived. The last recorded Voyager was a few hundred thousand years ago. None of it makes sense, starting with my sudden promotion from the investigative and covert arm of the military to a fucking general after I rooted out the cult in Immorilla. Someone or something is pulling the strings back in the capital, and it''s definitely not in the empire''s benefit. I need to speak with the Prince urgently when I''m back, preferably away from that nest of snakes that he calls home. Being stuck in the middle of a shadow war of royal succession is not what I signed up for." Rex closed his tired eyes and leaned back in his chair. If his teacher hadn''t shown up, he and the rest of the army would be dead at the hands of the Augur. There really are levels to this game. If Yuri could deal with the Augur so easily after it had basically smacked him silly with one punch, Rex wondered what kind of monster his teacher really was. Augurs were no joke. Masters of a singular aspect of pestilence, like this one, an Augur of Rot, as the name suggests, it brings rot with a capital R wherever it goes. Entire cities could have been wiped out in days. And Yuri had basically done the equivalent of stomping it into the ground while looking bored. Rex shuddered as he thought of the other monsters he had met on his teacher''s old team. He''d rather face the Augur again. Just as he was thinking this, a shockwave went through the tent. Rex stopped. He sensed a massive Aum signature. Sighing, he chided himself for letting himself slip into placidity. With a set brow and bared canines, the Xeral materialized his glowing warhammer as he flashed out of the tent in a blaze of red hot fury.
Since the arrival of Yuri and the disappearance of the Augur, the Verrack army had retreated. The 100,000 strong army, battered and worn down, proceeded to camp with caution for the night. Officers and commanders camped in the center and were surrounded by concentric rectangles of troop tents with regular patrols and campfires at geometric designations. The grass native to the region had been cleared out for the entire camp. Trenches were dug and walls were raised within an afternoon. For anyone not familiar with elemental Aum, it would have shocked them to see stone grown and shaped in front of their eyes. But the well-trained Corps of the Empire had turned a grassy hill into a fort before sunset. Manned ramparts, Aum and physical barriers, farseeing arrays trained both to the horizon and the ground beneath them, as well as light-bending camouflage incantations made the hastily raised fort both stealthy and well protected. But there was currently a man, horned and dressed in black, standing in the air a few feet from the ground in the middle of the center where the command center was. A twenty-foot crater glowing an angry red, and vestiges of death and destruction many feet further than that. All that careful preparation and work ruined by one creature of immense power. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Yuri was the first to arrive on the scene. By the time she registered the meteoric Aum signature, it was too late. Hundreds of officers, who worked through the night to ensure the smooth running of the encampment, were dead or dying. Yuri turned her furious red orb onto the genocidal maniac floating lackadaisically toward her, with not a care in the world. Calling it a man is well a bit of a simplification. Whatever it was, it had the shape of a man. It was as though its flesh was made of wisps of shadow, nether given human form. A pair of obsidian horns, cracked and ram-like, grew out of the back of this Abyss-spawn''s head. Black and corrupt life force roiled out of the creature like a tsunami of malice, sapping the life force of the dying troops it had broken. Here was a bonafide practitioner of death. The Reaper isn''t grim; he''s just apathetic. "Hand him over," it spoke in a low, gravelly tone. Dirty red gashes for eyes trained on Yuri. "Leave, Malkaleth. I am not in a good mood right now," spat Yuri, uncharacteristically vehement. "Your hands are tied, Andross. I know your daughter is here. The skies won''t burn tonight," replied Malkaleth, grinning to reveal a very corporeal set of red-needle teeth. A Rex-shaped meteor landed beside Yuri, eyeing the shadowy apparition. He asked with urgency, "First the Desolation and now the Void ones? Is that twerp really worth so much trouble?" "This is a distraction, Rex. Secure the Voyager. I''ll take care of Malkaleth," replied Yuri. Rex paused. "Malkaleth the Black Butcher?!" "The one and only," replied Malkaleth. Plasma encased Yuri as she whispered, "Go, keep them both safe." Lightning shot toward the shadow.
As Rex raced towards the tent where the Voyager was being held, he couldn''t believe the destruction he saw around him. The remains of the guards who had been protecting the Voyager were scattered near the entrance of the tent. Determined to find the missing person, Rex burst into the tent and searched frantically, but the Voyager was nowhere to be found. Frustrated and angry, Rex flew out of the tent and surveyed the chaos that had overtaken the camp. Shadow creatures were attacking and killing members of the army left and right. With determination, Rex kept watch, determined to locate the Voyager. Finally, he spotted the person covered in blood and holding an unconscious Zeva, limping away from two cloaked figures who were closing in with knives. Without hesitation, Rex flew towards them, engulfed in flames, ready to save Zeva and the Voyager and seek revenge on those who had harmed his troops. But as he descended, he sensed something wrong and swerved to the left. Losing control, he crashed to the ground and smashed through several tents before coming to a stop. Struggling to stand, Rex''s knees gave out and he collapsed, a spear of shadow stuck in his stomach. Blood flowed from his mouth as his vision started to fade. Chapter -14- Be like water, my friend. An ear-shattering explosion rocked the tent, causing Arjun to jump up and grab a saber that materialized in front of him. The blade shifted mesmerizingly between different shades of blue, from cyan to indigo. As Arjun left the tent, Aaron heard muffled and urgent voices before everything went quiet. Eerie, agonizing silence filled the air, and the tension was unbearable. Struggling to break free from his bindings, Aaron fought to stay alive even though he had previously tried to kill himself. His heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. He paused for a moment, hoping to god that nothing was wrong. It was then that the screams started. Desperate and animalistic, Aaron renewed his efforts to break free from the resolute fabric that bound him. Outside the tent, the sounds of fighting erupted, with screams and grunts sounding out. The acrid smell of blood and burnt flesh permeated the air. Silence fell again, and Aaron didn''t even dare to breathe. Footsteps approached, and Arjun entered the tent, his face set in a grim countenance. His left arm was missing from the elbow and wrapped in blue bandages, but this injury did not slow him down. Putting his fingers to his lips, Arjun stared intently at Aaron, who responded with the barest of nods. Arjun snapped his fingers, and sparks flew from them as the bindings came loose. Aaron scrambled to get out of them, ignoring the pain in his protesting body. Following Arjun, who was heading to the back of the tent, Aaron noticed that tendrils of water were spouting from the blue bandages he was wearing. They formed an amorphous blob on the ground, which then condensed into a human form and turned into a copy of Arjun, looking bloodied and very dead. Arjun gave Aaron a wink, to which he could only stare back mutely. Muttering to himself, Arjun touched the back of the tent, causing it to ripple and give way. He held Aaron''s hand and pulled him through the door, which was disguised to be a part of the tent and was actually made of liquid. It was almost as though Arjun was expecting the attack to happen. Aaron couldn''t help but wonder if Arjun was an alien or a cautious water wizard who had prepared for this moment. As they ran through the encampment, screams and the sounds of fighting could still be heard in the distance. A pale white moon hung overhead, casting a eerie glow on their surroundings. Arjun took a small stone out of his pocket and crushed it before grabbing Aaron and leading him northward. His shifting blue saber floated in front of him as he led Aaron, strangely enough, not through the cover of shadows but along brightly lit paths. Aaron, struggling to catch his breath, could barely keep up with the giant man. People in various states of undress and armor rushed past them, heading toward a large and luminescent clearing filled with bonfires. A large number of people were standing behind a protective circle of bonfires, guarded by armed sentinels. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. As they approached, a nine-foot-tall, slender woman wearing obsidian armor strode forward to meet them. She was holding two wicked daggers that circled her in the air. Aaron quickly resolved to never make eye contact with the warrior. However, things did not seem to be going his way, as she grabbed his shoulder and lifted him off the ground, levitating him into the air. She then took off at breakneck speed into the sea of tents they had just left, with Aaron floating behind her. As they flew through the darkness, Aaron thought he saw cloaked figures darting through the shadows and following them. They headed into the darker parts of the encampment, the light growing dimmer and dimmer until all they could see were dark silhouettes in the moonlight. The silhouettes moved like piranhas underwater, encircling the strange duo of a regal warrior with her daggers out and a scared-looking Aaron. The warrior, Zeva, needed to get Aaron, the Voyager, away from the remaining troops and concentrate on their ambushers. She suspected that there was more to the shadows stalking them than met the eye, and she needed to draw out the larger plot. She knew that the Void ones were known for their deceit, but she and her team had a few tricks up their sleeves as well. Timing was key. Zeva waited patiently for the shadow-humping freaks to make their move. And they did. Three forms coalesced out of the shadows, wisps of darkness rising from their forms in the moonlight. Their eyes glowing red, the one in the middle spoke in a leisurely manner. "We claim the Voyager for the Void god." Side-stepping a dagger thrown at her from the shadows, Zeva replied as though nothing had happened. "Hasn''t he been missing for a few million years? What are you going to do with this runt after claiming him?" "Mortals may not pierce through the workings of one who has conquered the zenith existence. But since you''ll be dead anyway, I will let you be privy to a most joyous revelation. He who rules the Endless Expanse has spoken to our Hierophant. He makes his return after the silent age." "Bullshit," Zeva snorted internally. A whisper of wind kissed her ear. The Xeral was on his way. Chapter -15- Cloak and Dagger Aaron didn''t move a muscle as he was tugged with breakneck speed into the dark part of the now somewhat destroyed encampment. The Amazonian lady stopped as she seemed to be waiting for someone or something. To his horror, shapes started emerging from the shadows. They were bestial and monstrous, and Aaron was sure that this was not Earth. This place did not play by the same rules as the universe he was familiar with. He had seen everything from matter manipulation, gravity manipulation, superhuman attributes, anthropomorphic animals, and now shadow demons. Aaron was fucking exhausted. Since the moment he regained consciousness, it had been a rollercoaster of events, placing him in one precarious position after the other. He despised it. He fucking loathed it. The first thing he had felt after he jumped off the ledge of the building when he tried to kill himself was regret. Regret that things were the way they were. Regret that he didn''t fight harder. Regret that things had turned out the way they did. Regret that he couldn''t do anything about it. Something deep within him awoke. White-hot anger. Anger at his impotence. Anger at the world. And a hunger. A calamitously deep hunger for power. Almost abyssal. If there were fucking superpowers here, he was going to be fucking Superman. Zeva paused. For a minute, she had felt Aum gather around the Voyager. And certainly not a trifling amount. Back in the camp, the soldiers were joking about how scary the Aum-less Voyager was going to be. She felt her cocoon of wind around him weaken after he had channeled so much Aum. Things had changed. She could sense the Void ones behind her spring into action. The time for words was over. She waved her hands, and her daggers screamed into two of the shadowy forms far faster than they could react. The daggers tore through their seemingly incorporeal form, drawing thick spurts of blood as the shadow men keeled over in agony. They were not getting back up. The opponent in the middle, however, was unfazed by his brethren''s plight and slinked back into the shadows like a predator beneath murky water. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Zeva kept her calm. Her winds swept in gentle circles around her, acting as a sensory field. She felt a disturbance in the eddies and pretended not to notice. A head emerged silently from the shadows right behind her. Just as it was about to strike, Zeva released her winds like a shockwave, dispelling the now liquid shadows and sending her adversary careening into the wall of the encampment. It emerged from the rubble, seemingly unhurt, a wicked scythe materializing in front of it as it dashed towards her, the scythe spinning in deadly arcs. The daggers shot back from the still forms of her now deceased enemies into her arms
As Zeva met the shadow man head-on, wrapping her body with the air she controlled allowed her to move at tremendous speeds. The Void one seemed no slouch with the scythe either, and after a brief exchange of blows, they separated, evenly matched. Chapter -16- Pedal to the metal. Zeva had never fought so hard in her life. Her opponent was a monster, and she was covered in shallow cuts, with blood pooling by her feet. She was panting heavily as her opponent walked around her in circles, the edge of the scythe tailing Zeva''s movements like the head of a viper. Then, he exploded into motion, rocketing towards Zeva. Tired as she may be, instinct made Zeva step back, narrowly avoiding the scythe. This was her chance, she realized. Leaning forward, she slashed with her daggers, but her opponent seemed to have anticipated this. Twisting his wrist, he pulled on the scythe, a guillotine headed straight towards Zeva''s head. Eyes wide, she brought her daggers up at the last minute, manically cycling as much air as she could to cushion the blow. The scythe crashed into her, and Zeva couldn''t hold the momentum back. She was hammered into the earth, her daggers the only thing keeping the scythe away from her flesh. Her wrists were now broken, and it was all she could do to not pass out. Unconsciousness meant death, not only for her, but for untold numbers. She had to keep the Voyager away from them at all cost. Something was off about that boy, and all the other shallow injuries she had accumulated weren''t helping either. The dark energy was consuming her vitality with each passing second. It was time for drastic measures. Roaring in defiance, Zeva let out a shockwave of air, pushing her shadowy adversary back. Before he could react, Zeva was there, slashing at his throat with her dagger. He blocked it with his hilt, but Zeva didn''t let up. She continued to attack with increasing tempo, every single technique and every single sequence she knew in the Dance of the Tempest thrown at the abomination. She became the tempest with her razor-sharp winds. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Still, this was a stalemate that couldn''t last, and the Void one was well aware. He would weather the storm and strike when the opportunity presented itself. Zeva started to flag, and before long, she made a misstep, overextending to the right and allowing the shadow to disengage and swing at her unbalanced form. Zeva was waiting for this. Channelling every single bit of Aum she had, she hurled her dagger at the shadow just as the scythe bit into her shoulder. The scythe, cutting through her breastplate, lodged itself deep into Zeva''s torso as she fell to the ground. The Shadow looked at her impassively with one eye, as there was a circular hole where the other should have been. It fell back into the dirt, dead.
Aaron''s feet touched the ground as the wind surrounding him dissipated. "What the fuck should I do? They''re both dead," he said, approaching where Zeva lay with blood rapidly accumulating beneath her. As he looked at her intently, deep in thought, Aaron made a decision that would shape him for the rest of his life. Chapter -17- Do you even lift Bruh. Aaron was regretting his decision. His body screamed in protest as he tried to lift the wounded warrior''s body. Her left arm somehow still held a one-to-one dagger. The fight had been crazy and indescribable. All Aaron saw were two blurry shapes moving at a speed that should not have been possible. A sound snapped Aaron out of his thoughts. He was still in deep water, and the shadows were not safe. He needed to save this lady. She seemed important, and he could buy some goodwill by getting her to safety. Without knowing the local language, he had to let his deeds speak for him. Hopefully, this would be enough for them to view him favorably. He could see the light of the bonfires barely filtering through the field of tents, a couple of hundred yards away. With his lanky frame, he should be able to make it in under a minute if he booked it. Now, with the added weight of about 250 pounds of muscle and armor, this was a much more taxing endeavor. "Lady, don''t you have healing potions in your world?" he muttered under his breath. His best option would be to backpack carry her. Going over his reasons to do this again, Aaron kept telling himself, "Return scary and important lady to scarier and more important lady. The lion-man won''t eat you." He grabbed her hand, put it over his shoulder, and shimmied under her, getting her other arm around his shoulder. "Now, remember how you squat. Drive with the hips. Do it in one motion." Aaron had a 350-pound PR, but that was a while ago. Aaron PUSHED. Grunting with effort, he had done it. It had been easier than he expected. Either the warrior was deceivingly light or he had gotten stronger, much stronger. She didn''t feel north of 200 pounds. She felt much lighter. Confused, but thankful, he started moving towards the light. Aaron sniggered at the supposed humor, surprising himself. The sounds of fighting seemed to have died down, and he was slowly moving forward. His newfound strength aside, something didn''t seem right. An odd feeling was bothering him. It felt like a nascent new sense, warning him of impending danger. He listened to his gut and ducked. A dagger flew past just where his companion''s head had been. Setting her aside, he pried the dagger from her vice-like grip and took a stance. Aaron wasn''t a noob to fights, but those consisted of fists and elbows. He couldn''t bring an arm bar to a magical gunfight. Two robed figures emerged 50 feet behind him, each holding a short sword of a style he had never seen before on Earth''s fantasy. He noticed the hands holding them were bandaged and looked diseased, oozing tar-like gunk. Shuddering with disgust, he held the dagger in front of him with a reverse-handed grip. Most likely, this was going to be it. After failing to die on his own terms, he was going to die on some alien, hostile planet to some asshole with super eczema. Grief took hold of his heart until it morphed into something blacker. Cold fury flowed through him as he promised himself and his opponents, "I''m sure as hell not going down alone, you ugly fucks." Unbeknownst to him, the wind had gently started swirling around him. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Chapter -18- Now listen here you little shit! Aaron had never felt more alive. Watching his shadowy adversaries stalk him, knowing it could all be over in a second, made him think. He wanted to fight, he wanted to live. A switch had been flipped in his mind. His anger at the world formed a nebulous core from which energy flowed forth. He was in a trance, and the amount of energy flowing through him was increasing by the second. He wasn''t a helpless spatial refugee anymore; he was a cornered animal, one with fangs. The one on the left leapt forward, almost faster than he could react. Flow-state Aaron was now moving completely on instinct. Massively underestimating his now-augmented strength, he jumped backwards, and dirt exploded in clumps around him as he was propelled a good 20 feet back. Landing unsteadily on his feet, he took advantage of the robed figure''s moment of surprise at Aaron''s speed by Leroy Jenkins-ing himself straight back at the attacker with all the speed he could muster. Dagger outstretched, Aaron collided with the shadowy form with the force of a small hatchback. Aaron felt a searing pain in his thigh and, to his horror, found the short sword sticking out of his thigh. Blood started to ooze out. "Fuck," he screamed in anger as he hooked one of his arms around the arm of his opponent and started stabbing like a madman. A good five stabs later, Aaron hobbled back, a wild slash aimed at his head barely missing. The first robed figure collapsed with a wet thunk, as the other eyed him warily with glowing red slits. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Not putting weight on his injured leg, Aaron hobbled around to not give his back to the shady fuck. "Come on, bitch," he muttered. "Make your move." Without warning, the hooded figure number two thrust forward, his sword now an eerie black. Aaron barely managed to dodge, slipping sideways in the most clumsy way possible. The wellspring of energy he found at the start of the fight started to dry up. Pain and exhaustion dulled his movements. Gritting his teeth, he lifted his leaden arms, bloodied dagger pointing towards his still adversary. On cue, it started walking towards him with grim certainty. Aaron stood his ground, closing the distance with a short run. It slashed at him, and Aaron moved to block with the dagger, which turned out to be a big mistake. The dagger spun out of his arms and into the distance, and he looked on in horror as the figure wound up for a slash that would kill him. Everything moved in slow motion. The robed figure reached the apex of its swing, and as it sought to bring down its sword on Aaron, a glowing crescent of bluish energy hit its arm, lopping it off at the wrist. Greyish blood now spurted everywhere. Aaron grinned like a madman as he stepped in and jabbed, its head snapping back very satisfactorily. He followed with a body shot and left hook to the face. Aaron could feel something give within the hood as it wobbled unsteadily. Tripping it onto the dirt, he slipped onto his back and locked in the tightest rear-naked choke of his life. Aaron SQUEEZED and SQUEEZED until he felt the life give out in his arms. A warm glow entered his body as he lay panting on the ground. HE.WAS.ALIVE. Chapter -19- A beginning Aaron lay on the ground, panting heavily as he tried to catch his breath. His legs were still wrapped around the now-dead attacker, and he struggled to push himself up. Despite the pain in his impaled thigh, he managed to hobble over to Zeva, checking to see if she was still alive. To his relief, she seemed to be breathing a little better, with her dusken cheeks looking healthier by some miracle. The shadows still surrounded them, and the distant sounds of fighting had died down. Lightning lit up the night sky, and Aaron noticed thunder for the first time. He wondered if this place had rain and thought it would be nice to feel the rain after being covered in so much blood and grime. Despite everything that had happened, Aaron felt strangely calm. He had accepted a part of himself that he had been denying for so long. As he looked towards the shadows, he knew the battle wasn''t over. Suddenly, hundreds of shapes materialized out of the darkness, with glowing red slits staring at Aaron. He stilled his breathing and raised his hands in a boxing stance, ready for death to come for him once again. But life had other plans. Aaron could feel a great power gathering near Zeva, and he had the inexplicable ability to sense this unknown form of energy. A tendril of water rose from her back, rapidly gaining mass until a large, man-sized blob hovered in front of him. It rapidly transformed into the familiar figure of Arjun, the large, smiling man who had dropped onto his newly formed feet. His warm and inviting smile turned into a rictus grin, signaling impending bloodshed. A murderous aura burst forth from the previously scholar-like man as he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. A small whirlpool of blood-red water swirled around his feet. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. In an instant, a massive area around them turned into a sea of blood-red spikes, impaling every single shadow dweller. It was a massacre. Arjun snapped his fingers again, and the spikes turned to water as hundreds of corpses hit the ground. "Aaron?" he asked, his concerned scholar persona returning. Aaron gave a thumbs up as he felt his world spin sideways and he passed out on the ground.
As Aaron''s consciousness returned, he found himself in a world of grey. The skies were a dull, overcast shade of grey, and the ground was a barren expanse of grey dirt. There was no sun to be seen, and the only light came from a faint glow on the horizon. In this bleak and monochromatic world, Aaron found himself standing in front of a large throne. It was roughly hewn from obsidian, with jagged edges and a crude, primitive appearance. The throne seemed to radiate a sense of power and authority, and Aaron felt a strong desire to approach it. As he took a step closer, he noticed that the throne was surrounded by a number of strange symbols and markings. They were etched into the obsidian in a way that seemed almost ritualistic, and Aaron couldn''t help but feel a sense of foreboding. He had the sense that this throne was not a place for the faint of heart. Chapter -20- King of NOTHING
Aaron sat up slowly, his head pounding and his vision blurry. The last thing he remembered was feeling weak and blacking out. Now, he found himself in a desolate grey wasteland, surrounded by nothing but dirt as far as the eye could see. There was not a sound to be heard, nor a sign of life in sight. In the distance, a menacing black throne stood out against the monotone landscape. As Aaron approached it warily, he saw that a wisp of black smoke sat atop the throne. The smoke seemed to have a barely-substantial form, resembling a weak foxfire. "This isn''t a dream," came a voice from the smoke. Aaron froze in place, unsure of what to make of this strange manifestation. "What isn''t a dream?" he asked tentatively. "This," the smoke replied, gesturing to the ground beneath Aaron''s feet and the sky above. "And certainly not me." Not convinced in the slightest, Aaron took a few steps back and adopted a defensive stance. "What are you?" he asked, his voice laced with suspicion. "That''s not important right now," the smoke snapped, clearly losing patience. "We don''t have much time, so listen carefully. Beware the one-eyed-king. Do not trust the shadows for now - they will be your domain eventually, but they are treacherous marshland at the moment. Help the golden one; he will become your staunchest ally. Above all, believe in yourself. We shall meet again at your first trial. Goodbye, for now." Confused and overwhelmed by the strange warning, Aaron tried to commit the smoke''s words to memory. Before he could fully process what had just happened, the grey wasteland began to dissolve around him. Aaron felt himself fading out of existence in that place, and then he was back on the ground, with Zeva and Arjun looking down at him worriedly. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. "Well, at least she was alive," Aaron thought to himself, still trying to make sense of the surreal vision he had just experienced. He had no idea what any of it meant or what his role in this strange world might be, but he couldn''t shake the feeling that the wisp of smoke had been trying to offer him guidance or warning. Aaron resolved to keep the strange entity''s words in mind and to be cautious as he navigated this unfamiliar terrain.
Aaron had always struggled to fit in. Born into a family with emotionally distant parents, he had always felt isolated and misunderstood. As a child, he was diagnosed with autism, which made it difficult for him to connect with others and left him feeling even more isolated. As he grew older, Aaron developed an anxiety disorder that further hindered his ability to interact with his peers. He never expected to be treated well in life, and unfortunately, things didn''t seem to be any different in this new place he found himself in. Aaron was now in a cell, confined to a small, cramped space. He had no idea how this tent, which seemed to be barely holding itself together, was able to function as a prison. "Magic," he muttered to himself. "Hurray." This was Aaron''s second day in this strange place, and he was beginning to feel anxious and restless. After the massive shadow invasion, the army had suffered heavy casualties. But Aaron had to give credit where credit was due - the cleanup had been swift and efficient. The dead had been collected and properly identified, and a cemetery had been built in the grassy fields. What could be salvaged was salvaged, and the ground magic dudes (as Aaron called them) had started building a new, more secure encampment with higher walls and glowing orbs lights everywhere. There were no shadows to be seen now, and Aaron had expected the army to make a move and leave this place behind. But for some reason, they were still stationed there, and Aaron was left in his cell, waiting anxiously for any developments. By the end of the second day, Arjun, the kind but genocidal scholar, paid Aaron a visit. He opened the cell door and beckoned Aaron to come with him. Steeling himself, Aaron followed behind, unsure of what to expect. Chapter -21- Immigration Aaron followed Arjun out of the tent and was momentarily blinded by the sunlight. There was a small table placed near the entrance, surrounded by armed guards forming a loose fence. The army was busy with their activities outside of this semi-private meeting space. Aaron assumed it was a meeting table and hoped it wasn''t a trial of some sort. The lion-man, white-haired, scary lady, and Zeva sat at the table, looking at Aaron with wary, uncertain eyes. Arjun stood off to the side, his eyes focused on the distance. Two chairs, alien in design but unmistakably meant for sitting, stood in front of Aaron. He chose one and sat down. The white-haired lady, regal and overbearing, stared intently at Aaron with disconcerting ruby irises. A small smile played at her lips as she steepled her fingers beneath her chin. The lion-man sat with his eyes closed, dressed in plain cloth garb and sporting a new slash over his eye. Zeva was the most expressive of the trio. She sat with tension, looking ready to break at any moment. Her eyes were swollen, and she had a hand massaging her temple as she looked off into the distance, avoiding eye contact with the battered soul who may have saved her.
Aaron sat in silence for a full minute, the tension between them thick and palpable. Suddenly, he heard a buzzing sound in his head and felt a headache coming on. As he opened his mouth to speak, the headache grew stronger. Aaron put his hands to his head, the pain almost incapacitating him. But then, an explosive boom sounded out and the pain dissipated. He looked to see the trio at his table gazing upwards. Craning his neck, he followed their gaze to see a figure dressed in white slowly descending from the sky. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Aaron couldn''t help but feel a sense of sarcasm as he thought to himself, "That wasn''t messianic at all." Completely immune to the supernatural hijinks occurring around him, he stared warily at the person wrapped in cloth armor. Thick pads of canvas-like material covered what would have been protected in a traditional set of full plate. High cheekbones framed a near-perfect face as white irises fell upon Aaron and moved towards the white-haired lady. "Yuri," the white warrior grumbled with a voice that could only be produced by malfunctioning heavy machinery. "Zarkhan," Yuri replied in a business-like manner as she pointed towards Aaron. The white warrior disappeared as Aaron felt his breath stop. He could feel a large palm grasping his head, and then a series of sensations that Aaron would shudder at for many nights to come. He felt icy cold tendrils permeate both his consciousness and the physical parts of his brain. It felt like a hundred straws slurping out his grey matter. He felt violated, naked, and empty. Rage started building up inside him as the tendrils receded into nothingness and the feeling of weakness passed. Gasping for air and now on his knees, Aaron tried to center his breathing, but it was impossible. He felt as though an inviolable part of him had been shattered, as though he had been cut open in a fish stall and his guts had been ripped away. Summoning all of his strength, he looked at the outstretched hand of the warrior. "Welcome to Ersetu, Aaron Wren," the warrior said in a gravelly voice. Chapter- 22- WASSUP Breathing heavily, Aaron ignored the proffered hand and got to his feet. The giant in white was expressionless, considering him with apathy. Arjun came over and handed Aaron the same glass plate he had used before the attack on the encamped army. Zarkhan took it in his hand for a minute, and it responded by glowing white and pulsating with different colors until it stopped, at which point it was returned to Arjun. The scholar intently looked at the flashing lines of text on the screen. Aaron, still a little shaken, started backing away slowly. Zarkhan spoke calmly, "We mean no harm, Mr. Wren. What just happened, although unpleasant, was necessary. I understand that the experience may have left an indelible mark. But rest assured, there is much historical precedence for the use of such penetrative methods to acquire information, especially considering your unique circumstances. If it makes things better, I only looked at the parts of yourself that are currently allowing me to communicate with you. Now come, we have much to speak about." Zarkhan snapped his fingers, and the world changed. They were now inside a dimly lit room that, surprisingly, didn''t smell of anything. Zarkhan sat in front of Aaron on a wooden stool. The room was spartan in its decoration and had no windows, but it was decorated with ceiling-high stacks of books. In fact, the entire room was full of them. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. "Sit," said Zarkhan. Aaron hesitated and then sat on a stool near him. Zarkhan waved his hand, and a book flew into it. It was a thick, leather-bound, brass-tacked volume almost a foot across. He offered it to Aaron. "This was all that was taken." Trembling hands, Aaron opened the book. It was a dictionary in English. Aaron flipped through the pages, rows upon rows of words in English followed by what he assumed was the explanation in a foreign script. He gave it a cursory glance. All the words listed there were familiar. At first glance, this seemed to be a compendium of every single word he knew. He closed the book with a snap. "I still don''t agree with what you did. Whatever your explanations might be," Aaron spat out, now fully aware that this foreign being comprehended his language. "And I understand your anger. You may very well reconsider your decision after hearing more." Aaron stayed silent. "You might not be aware that you are not originally from this plane of existence. You were brought here. By whom is still a mystery, but it is most possible that it was by one of what we call the ruinous gods." "Gods?" asked Aaron. "The closest equivalent in this language is god, yes. For all intents and purposes, they are untouchable. These beings hold unimaginable power, and we most often find ourselves being pawns in their game. Many, spanning millennia, civilizations raised and collapsed, and billions of lives changed or destroyed. Unimaginable chaos sowed at the behest of these apathetic, soulless beings of infinite power. And you, Aaron, are the Herald of this chaos." Chapter-23-Insert Cliche Isekai Title "Fuck me," thought Aaron. "Fuuuuuuuck meeeeeeee. I''m in a goddamn Isekai. What the ever-loving fuckity fuck, fuck." It wasn''t the interspatial hijinks, or the absolutely dreadful planetary welcome, or the near-death experiences that finally got to him. It was the cringe. The cringe at what he was feeling. He was absolutely disgusted at the unshakeable excitement he was feeling right now. Yes, he dreamed about something like this happening. I mean, which socially awkward loser hasn''t? "SOOO," drawled the excited and ashamed interplanetary interloper. "Do I get cool powers now?" Bemused, Zarkhan shook his head. "It''s a little bit more complicated than that. There is no universal ''System'' to borrow from your context, nor a geographically eastward culture with deeply metaphysical representations of the natural order. In fact, there is no natural order. All of this is heavily... selected for. The gods I mentioned before are nihilistic, self-serving, and devoid of any mortal qualms or boundaries. How does one fill the existential void of eternity? You would play millennia-long chess matches with other gods." "So you''re the good guys?" "No clue what we are?" came the tired reply. "Are you good? Are you evil? Are these gods evil? Their nature isn''t something that you can have emotional standards towards. Would you be angry at a storm that wiped out your village? At the comet that destroyed your planet? The nebula that wiped out your star system? Eternal sapience, while not omnipotence, is both primal and transcendent at the same time. We just try to survive. And so far, collectivism has been good for the past few thousand centuries. There is no meaning to this struggle." The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. "So let me get this straight. While I have no objective view of the power system of this place, you seem to be amongst the higher echelons of strength, at least when compared to your comrades. And you called yourself a divine chess piece? And I have no innate or gifted powers that seem normal to this realm, and I am a herald of chaos? Did you know I shat my pants on re-entry? I''m a herald of kaka. Not chaos, man." "Well said, Zarkhan. You are mostly right, apart from me being a whole chess piece. I would be a wooden chip of one chess piece if we''re being generous. And no, I was not aware you had soiled yourself, O harbinger of putridness." "While unfortunate and messy, your arrival, Mr. Wren, does signify as a portent of change. While correlation does not equal causation¡ªwonderful line that, by the way¡ªthere is an incredible statistical significance to the number of heralds called forth, and immediately, the landscape of this realm changes quite quickly, violently, and in horrifying ways. Heralds are difficult to deal with. It''s in the name. Names carry power. A lot of it." "Oh, trust me," snorted Aaron, "I''ll find a way to disappoint you." "Do not behave like a teenager, Mr. Wren!" bellowed Zarkhan. Chapter-24-Lacrimosa "Do not behave like a teenager, Mr. Wren!" bellowed Zarkhan. Space grew heavier, light started warping towards the suddenly incandescent figure like a spatial kaleidoscope. Aaron''s chest seized; an EMP had gone off inside his head. Light was shining from the eyes and mouth of the ebony messiah like some celestial nuclear reactor had just whirred to life. And it went away just as quickly. Calm. Ragged breaths left the chest of the deeply frightened space refugee. "The reality you find yourself in is not one of civilized existential angst. This is an interdimensional cesspool of horrors that personify entropy, and they exact their metaphorical unravelling upon the sentient in the vilest ways possible. Do you understand? Do you? If those shadowy figures you fought had successfully taken you away, you would have been subjected to an infiltration and mutation of your deepest self. And that would only be the start," a visibly angered Zarkhan continued calmly. "Make no mistake, while we may think that you have no power currently, we do not believe it. Heralds have a way of upending order, and you, dear Mr. Wren, will be a prisoner, albeit in a gilded cage, until you show us who you truly deeply are. Pubescent delusions of heroism mean nothing when you are fighting for your life in a muddy swamp with your intestines hanging out. We will soon know who you are. I advise you to find out as well." If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Aaron looked at the being in front of him. Breathing calmed. Anger swelled. Mouth shut, Aaron continued his contemplation. The injustice of it all. The sheer nonsensical shittiness of it all. The V12 in his chest was belching out wrath, and he could barely contain it. It was not fair. It was not fair. IT WAS NOT FAIR. "So," continued Aaron, not betraying the maelstrom of rage within him, "what is to happen to me now?" "We will trek beside the Army along with General Vitor and Princess Andross until we reach the IMMORAL capital where things will become clearer. Until then..." Zarkhan suddenly stopped. The space shook. Books started falling. A loud thud echoed. "Visitors," he said, looking distracted. "We shall continue this in the Materialum." And he snapped his fingers. The world shifted. Aaron was still sitting on the strange alien chair. The people beside him were not seated like before. Zeva and the Lion stood covering his flanks, with Arjun in front of him holding a large water barrier that kept shifting and swirling. The beautiful nine-foot-tall lady was floating in front of him, arcs of lightning swirling around her. Zarkhan stood to her side. In front of them stood a solitary horned figure made of shadows. "Malkaleth," growled the lightning lady. The figure started chanting. "Irule Va Oliye Po Ulagam engum dhustam paravattum." Darkness blotted out the sky. Aaron could only see a grim red smile with needle-like teeth. Lightning struck. Light and Shadow danced. For Fucks Sake
This never-ending nightmare seemed impossible to escape. Luminescence, as a concept, had ceased to exist in this world. Aaron had just received the sitrep for his dire situation, and it felt as though fate had switched off the bedroom light, inviting the Babadook under the bed to come and play. Muted drumbeats echoed around them, faint whispers of light caressed their irises, growing ever stronger. The air was fraught with desolate tension. The Black Butcher leered at Yuri, inhuman malice seeping from his ethereal form. Andross stood stoic and angelic, her gaze steady as she regarded the creature before her. Malkaleth¡ªthe Black Butcher, a Void One¡ªwas an unimaginably dangerous entity. Every time he revealed himself, the cost to civilization was catastrophic. Millions. The Plague Whisperer had reaped millions of lives, genocide incarnate in the tortured, warped humanoid form of the man he had once been¡ªthe man she had once known. Before the Void swallowed him and spat out this abomination.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The black smoke that oozed from his being drained the vitality of anything nearby, even Yuri''s. She knew all too well what he was capable of. But he was right¡ªshe couldn¡¯t go all out. Not here. Zeva. Rex. She had to be smart. A reassuring hand rested lightly on her shoulder. "You are not alone, Yuri," whispered Zarkhan as he shone with purifying light. The cloying tendrils of darkness failed to gain purchase against the expanding halo of radiance. "I shall keep them safe. Finish him once and for all." Yuri¡¯s scarlet eyes sharpened, their intensity unmatched. The world seemed to stop. She drew a liquid katana, its edge spilling aquiline tendrils of plasma. Malkaleth mirrored her action, unsheathing two curved short swords of jagged bone painted a sickly maroon, each weapon shrieking with the coalesced torment of the million souls it had devoured. Remember how awesome Goku vs Vegeta-1 was The sky shuddered under the weight of the blows exchanged; Aaron felt like bombs were going off above him. The concussive forces of two gods testing each other reverberated in the air. Is that what ants feel like? Aaron mused. The camp was enveloped in a white halo that seemed to keep the darkness at bay. The abyss, it seemed, had swallowed the place whole. Zarkhan floated above, worry etched deeply into his perfect features. Yuri had encased her entire body in plasma, sparks dancing across the surface of her manifested armor. The onyx smoke was kept at bay through sheer raw power. Transforming into a lightning bolt, she danced through the sky until she collided with Malkaleth in a thunderous blow. The black creature parried her strike with a casual backhand, the resultant force bellowing out for miles into the artificial dark. Malkaleth thrust with his off hand, the jagged tip screaming toward Yuri''s temple. The blade bounced off her incandescent frame, screeching as though in pain. An overhand stance turned into a guillotine aimed at Malkaleth''s head, but this too was blocked with a cross-dagger guard. Malkaleth grunted with effort, sparks singing his ethereal cloak, butterfly-like embers snaking up his forearms. This is going to be a dance of endurance, he mused. He had to outlast the princess''s firepower¡ªnot an easy feat knowing who he was up against. Taking the full brunt of an all-out attack from her would be dangerous, even for him. It was time to chink her armor.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. His daggers began levitating around him, crystal onyx covering their forms and turning them into dangerous needles. The needles split into two, then four, then eight, then sixteen, until there were thousands¡ªeach a potent missile of death, whirling around the butcher. They melded into the enforced night, silent, invisible, and deadly. But he wasn¡¯t done. Portals, one for each needle, opened around Yuri like the thousand eyes of a nightmare, honing in on her brilliant form. The needles flew. Malkaleth smiled. Yuri couldn¡¯t see his daggers, but she sensed movement through electrostatic feedback. She knew Malkaleth could supersede her energy sense, so she had long ago used her physical manifestation of power as a sensory array. Thousands of moving objects, voids in space, flew around her at dangerous speeds. If any one of them pierced her armor, it was game over. Yuri focused, drawing on her planetary reserves and supercharging her speed¡ªa star-like engine revving at full RPM. Her entire consciousness honed in on her prey. A singular reason for existence, an adamantine resolve. Power followed. She could sense the needles like a shoal of fish blinking in and out of existence, like immaterial flies honing in on her. She waited. She waited. She let the first needle hit¡ªa dull clink. Space weakened as she ripped a jagged line through the gaps, evading her inorganic pursuers by the barest of margins. It was a game of 5D chess, the needles moving through the network of portals, trying to reach their elusive target. Malkaleth¡¯s hands were outstretched in grim concentration. Yuri¡¯s eyes never left her prey. Here Kitty Kitty Yuri screamed towards Malkaleth. The first needle she had let fly left a dark stain on her armor. It was almost corrosive, eating away at the plasma like a sentient phagocyte, slowly but surely working its way towards her life force. If that had touched bare skin, it would have started consuming her alive. If she took more hits, her armor wouldn¡¯t be able to keep the avaricious ooze at bay. Malkaleth guarded himself with an impressive array of onyx needles. Like a colony of wasps, they hovered around him, leaving no direct route to approach. The princess zig-zagged through the miasma, evading them by the thousands. She barely made it through the gaps, the needles getting ever closer by the second. Something had to be done fast. Palpable malice, thick and opaque, radiated from Malkaleth''s form. The visage of something gargantuan and monstrous began forming behind him, as though he were channeling the bottomless gluttony of an old god to enact these arcane plights of death. Seven spears of lightning formed above Yuri''s head and hurled themselves toward the Butcher. The needles around him coalesced into a wall of ebony to stop the projectiles. The impact left a blinding flash, if only for a second. Yuri had... disappeared. Malkaleth frowned before immediately swerving to the left in horror. There she was, somehow right beside him, her katana shining brilliantly by her hip. Held in a low stance, it hummed with power as it traced an arc almost upon him.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Malkaleth knew he wouldn¡¯t get out of this unscathed. Channeling his power, he coated his hand with the same ebony crystal that enshrouded his needles. It should buy him some time. The katana bit into the lattice, slicing through it like a power washer through butter. Yet that infinitesimally small amount of added resistance gave him just enough time to evade the path of the blade. How was she here? he wondered, watching as the tip of her sword flew in front of his face. He watched his arm tumble away, dismembered, in slow motion. Yuri''s plasma-encased body was already coiling for the next strike before he willed his needles to box her in, evading to what he thought was a safe distance. Yuri held the needles around her in place with a shield of plasma, eyeing her one-armed opponent warily. Malkaleth clicked his fingers, and the portals around them closed. ¡°Figured it out, huh?¡± she spat venomously. ¡°Impressive, Andross. You mapped out the portal network this quickly, huh? That¡¯s how you emerged from the one closest to me. You made me think those needles were more of a threat than they were, just to get close.¡± ¡°It was the only way I had right now,¡± replied Yuri. ¡°Your incorporeality has¡ªand always will be¡ªa pain in my ass.¡± ¡°Well done, Yuri. But I will be back.¡± The Butcher turned into wisps and disappeared into the blackness. The darkness began clearing, revealing the sun once again. Yuri looked down to see the entire camp staring at her. She exhaled deeply. ¡°Time to go home.¡±