Chapter 621: Victor of the prime
Fighting blind was a lot harder than it looked in old Kung Fu movies. Mason thrashed around feeling like an idiot, crushing random enemies, but mostly getting his ass kicked.
His resistances seemed baffled. It was a good reminder not to think you had an answer to everything—sometimes a good, bright light worked better than a thousand magic tricks. He couldn’t see more than the occasional swinging object, usually right as it hit him.
He tried opening his eyes and staring, hoping Transformation helped him adjust. That didn’t seem to work, either. He was pretty close to just hopping off and fighting somewhere else when he heard a familiar voice.
“I’ve arrived. But I’d rather not land in all….this.”
His brother shouted from somewhere above, and Mason turned and jumped. A telekinetic force struck him just as he heard a woman shriek. Apparently he was too accurate.
He dropped his weight to nothing, hoping he’d bounce off or be easier to move with Blake’s power. Then the light just…dropped, like he’d reached the limit of its effect. As the world returned he found himself flying face first at Blake and Demi in a…floating, flaming cart.
He grabbed the front and blinked away about a thousand dark spots. Even at minimum weight he still shook the vehicle and sort of spun it around. Blake was staring at him and shaking his head.
“You look…absolutely disgusting. I’m making myself a pillar elevator. But if you could drop down and protect the base, that would be super. Preferably before I use all my mana. This is rather difficult, you know. I expect I’m the only wizard in the world even capable of maintaining…”
“Jesus, I’m going.”
Mason glanced at Demi and shook his head as if to ask ‘what the hell are you doing here?’
She shrugged and grinned, looking so wild and excited and perfect he just smiled and dropped.
Streak landed and tumbled with another whiny growl, crashing into half a dozen skeletons. Mason laughed at him. Then they got to work.
Before long Demi’s spores were popping up all over the place, and the undead literally started melting. It made them even more satisfying (and slightly grosser) to smash apart into little flying, goopy bits.
Before long, Mason had sort of forgotten what he was doing again, then Blake and his big cart dropped like a car on a purple and green mechanic’s lift, stopping maybe fifteen feet off the ground. A fiery bird also dropped out of the sky and started torching things.
“My other constructs are en route, but uh, they might be a minute.” Blake gestured at the army in between. “In fact it might be best to assume they’ll never arrive. But never mind! You requested the pleasure of my company, dear brother?”
Mason looked at his brother and tried and failed to be annoyed. For all his faults, Blake’s endless energy and enthusiasm for life usually just made things…more fun. It was maybe the main reason they’d stayed friends so long.
In his heart Mason knew he was kind of…grey. Without people and all their problems, he would likely just wander the world without purpose. Not sad, not happy, just…alive. Surviving.
Before his women, it was Blake that brought color to his black and white existence. He’d been the chaos to his quiet but boring world of order. He sometimes disliked the chaos, but he could never bring himself to hate it.
“There’s an altar making that light,” he said, pointing. “I was hoping you could stop it. I’ll have to…”
Some skeletal giant lurched at him and he had to spin and break it in half at the waist. Another hissed and charged and Streak smashed it over with a violent leap. Mason sighed.
“It’ll…take some work.”
“Then we’d best get to it!” Blake hopped out of his chariot, bringing Demi with Telekinesis. And a little squeal.
“Stop doing that! I could have just jumped!”
She had her arms out as if for balance as Blake set her down, looking wobbly and annoyed. And very cute. Blake met his eyes and winked, and he couldn’t help but grin.
“It’s not funny!” Demi put her hands on her hips. “He’s a lunatic! He didn’t even tell me when he…” she gestured at the cart. “Just picked us up and flew us over here.”
“You’re right,” Mason said, “nothing funny about it. Not even a little.”
Demi blew hair out of her face and looked between them shaking her head. But she was meeting his eyes and he knew she was resisting the urge to hug him.
“Follow me. But we’re near the blinding light. So be ready. If you can’t do anything about it, we should probably…” he hacked down a few more skeletons and shrugged. Blake put his hands together and bowed his head.
“Lead on, mighty king. I am the Gandalf to your Aragorn. The Merlin to your Arthur. The Raistlin to your Caramon…”
“You are such a nerd. Hang back and protect them, Streak. No, I don’t care if you…would one of you just shut up and do what I say?”
He shook his head and charged with Cheetah speed with his weight dropped, turning himself into a human bulldozer. Demi’s spore power started growing all over him, making him even stronger and faster to heal. And also itchier.
Rusted iron and ancient bone broke and caved as he smashed them away. A few weapons struck. A few spurts of acid flew. But they just didn’t matter.
Blades didn’t sink in beyond his skin and fur, at best leaving a bruise that started to fade. Even spears or arrows didn’t pierce enough to draw more than a few drops of blood before the wounds sealed.
Between his stats, powers, and titles, as well as Demi’s presence and powers, he was all but invulnerable to creatures this weak. If the army was made up of anything sentient or sane, they all would have run in terror.
But the undead merely lumbered on, walking into his tireless bone grinder. Demi, Blake and Streak followed in his wake, a new mace-wielding construct and that flaming bird helping keep the skeletons off.
The world went golden, and Mason squinted and took a step back.
“This is the edge. Can you sense anything?”
“That would be an understatement.” Blake walked forward with big, curious eyes, his weird glowing familiar whispering in his ear. “My my. It has…two layers. Divine magic covered in arcane runes. How delightful. I’m afraid I’ll need a minute.”
Mason shrugged and went back to slaughtering. He could hear violence from the north now and took a second to try and see his people.
“They’re coming,” Demi confirmed. “Or at least they were. Do you think there’s a boss, or whatever? I’ve been waiting with my prestige power. I mean it really doesn’t seem like this a problem, right? Obviously it’s a problem, it’s just…”
“Hold that thought.”
Mason turned a few more skeletons into bowling strikes. Then smashed a few constructs. This time he hopped back with a little ‘ha!’ as they blasted steam everywhere.
“See I learn!” he shouted, maybe for them, maybe for the system. Demi was giving him a raised eyebrow as he came back.
“Do you often talk to the undead?”
“They’re good listeners. And don’t use the prestige. But yes there will be a boss. Unless the Endless up there in the clouds decides we’ll just embarrass him. That’s possible. These gods mostly care about who looks the coolest, as far as I can tell. Also I’m not sure all of you should even be out here. We can fall back to the walls.”
“I’m sure that’s blasphemy or something.” Demi was smiling now, her leafy clothes half falling apart from her bumpy cart ride. It showed a lot of skin before, but now at least one breast was down to a patch of nipple leafs.
“Are you serious?” She noticed his eyes and looked around at the literal horde of swirling undead. “What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing bending you over that cart wouldn’t cure.” He covered the gap between them and grabbed her, one hand on her ass, an arm around her waist, lowering to take a bite out of the leaves covering that almost exposed tit.
Demi slapped and fought him but also moaned, and he could smell the pleasure she felt at how much he wanted her. She liked that he was literally so unafraid and in control that he might actually bang her in the middle of a battle. She liked it a lot.
And he felt not a single shit given about the state of him. His shapeshifting, his transformations, his being covered in undead destruction.
The image of himself as a half wolf on top of her flashed in pornographic detail, and he wasn’t sure if it was his idea or hers. Her legs were together, back arched, bent over and helpless, his fangs touching her neck.
A few skeletons charged, and he let go of Demi and turned on them with an enraged snarl. Anger coursed through him as he spun with his claws and marilith blades, almost pushing his anti-magic and growing a patch of trees just to buy time.
When he’d cleared a space he whipped back at inhuman speed, finding Demi staring like a horny deer in a headlight. She was backed up against a broken pile of bone, the exposed nipple surrounded by red tooth marks where he’d apparently bit her.
“Tonight,” she panted as he stalked towards her. “You can have me. All of us. There’s an army, Mason. Focus.”
He growled and blinked, remembering he was a man and a king and not a beast of the wild. There were people in danger. Things to do that weren’t whatever he wanted in any given moment.
He took a long, deep breath and fought down the lust, the urge to possess and claim and dominate. He didn’t have to stop it, he told himself, just delay. One more minute. Another hour. That was the way to fight addiction, even if just one second at a time
With another growl of rage, he turned on the undead to rip and tear and snap. How dare you, he wanted to scream, and heard himself howl. You attack my city? You interrupt my will?
He knew there was something…wrong, then. As he tried to sense what it was he could feel Cerebus watching. A looming presence crackling with restrained power. There were clawed hands on his shoulders, nodding, encouraging, whispering whatever he wanted or felt was right.
Once discovered, the deep, sonorous voice of the horned god whispered in his ear.
Stop thinking, my young champion, stop asking why and when. You want your reward? Did you think I'd forgotten you? Take it now. You are king of all men. Soon you will be lord of the primal plane. Act like it.
He shivered at the words, staring up at the red eyes still watching him from the clouds. He knew what Cerebus wanted. Why his reward had been delayed. The god of hunters was setting some kind of trap.
The ‘Everliving’.
Just the name offended him. Nothing lived forever, whatever these things said. Not Jeong. Not Elves. Not Mason. Not that fake god or the real one floating somewhere above.
Cerebus laughed with joy at his rage.
Go. End them all, then sleep on the white bellies of your mates in their shattered ruin. Break bone. Rend rotting flesh. Make him come down from those clouds. Together, we will take the rest of those fingers from that cold, fragile hand.
Mason didn’t lose the mental battle, because he didn’t want to fight it at all. He forgot about Blake or Demi or his little plans. Warm energy was rippling down his spine. He didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t want it to stop. He turned and leapt again into the light, straight at that altar, straight for that little patch of 'divinity'.
Good, he thought, better to see me rip down your standard, and banish whatever’s left of your power from my world.
He flew past Blake and went blind, no longer caring. Many hunters didn’t need to see to kill. His adaptation wouldn’t be to see through, it would be to function blind.
He didn’t even notice the text as it scrolled, his Claws flash with power as they lengthened and curled.
[Receiving Divine Reward for event: Victor of the Prime.]
[Title gained: Champion of Cerebus. All nature powers increased in effectiveness.]
[Power Modification: Ranger’s Claws===> Claws of the Horned God. Also considered a Divine Artifact. Innate. Gifted only to the greatest champions of Cerebus. Sometimes, life only taketh.]