The Majestic Territory, Old Folks' Campfire, was just as dreadful as it was enormous. Instead of looking like a titanic piece of abstract art, its appearance was based on real life elents and sights.
A sunless grey sky stood over clusters of whirling, dark thunderclouds that all seed to be marked by a small ball of red fire deep within them. Below this upward view – right beneath the centre of the curled clouds – stood what looked like a prairie, cast in a darker shade, like that of night.
Tall stalks of grass, taller than any man or Giant in Aigas ruled over the prairie, dying it in a subdued hue of green which looked quite even and picturesque from the skies.
Far removed from the beauty, however, was the most bizarre sight in the Territory, settled in the midst of the gloomy prairie; four giant, old n seated on large boulders gathered around a great bonfire.
Each of these n, seated in four different directions such that they surrounded the verdant fla, were roughly twenty ters tall while seated, and had haggard faces full of sweat, gri and gloom. Their beards were grey and dry, their eyes as blank and hollow as those of the dead.
Their muscular fras betrayed the life they had in their bodies, though, as did the monotonous activity they perford by the fire; sharpening their four different weapons – a cutlass, an axe, a chakram and a spear.
It was these four n who had called in loud voices the mont Skullius was dragged into the Territory, and it was above them that his segnted, dismantled and defeated bodies – soul and flesh – could be seen floating as though they were as light as the air.
One of the Primary ans of offense for the Territory, was the commands of these four n, which had just about as much power as the voice of the Ode, if not more.
Imdiately after Skullius was incapacitated, the Ode walked out of the great bonfire between the four n, and stepped into the lush prairie from between the massive legs of one of the four.
The wound on his neck was no more, and sly confidence was fully restored onto his face.
The Thriving Green fla from his Hidden Class, effected any and all things with life within them. It offered its restorative benefits to the user, tempted always to revive them after death, and had a profound negative effect on anything living, being capable of stealing life and destroying any vessels of such if allowed to dwell longer on them.
Anyone caught of guard, even when considering scores of powerhouses, would be incinerated completely, but that effect was only when considering a regular wielder of the Hidden Class, Falcon's Restricted Ternary.
The Ode was far from a regular Incandescent Stager, after all, and the effect of his Hidden Class was many tis more efficient in his Territory.
The Ode looked up at Skullius. He would have piled on attacks on him as he was currently helpless, but he felt sothing odd about the Hybrid Luman, sothing that shouldn't have been possible within his Territory, within any Territory, for that matter.
The segnted bodies of the Hybrid Luman were suddenly enveloped by a graceful light that hid them from sight in a great sphere that, unfortunately, failed to illuminate the gloomy prairie.
'There. That shouldn't be possible…' the Ode thought.
The brilliant light exploded out with an intent to restore, and when it died down, the Hybrid Luman was restored, his dark robe that cast a shadow on his torso to his knees; the bangles of light around his wrists, ankles and neck; his glowing skin; his two swords; and of course, his will to fight!
The Hybrid Luman looked down at the Ode for the second ti, and he too had just as wary of a look to his enemy that the Ode had towards him.
'This man can use his abilities in my Territory. How?' the Ode thought.
…And yet, Skullius thought about sothing even more harrowing, and expressed it outwardly.
"You…" he said. "You're a Spirit Warden."
…
The Ode was stunned by the accusation. His face showed mild surprise.
"Well, to think soone from Pelian would know what that is," he said, a chuckle leaving his mouth. "But indeed I am. Sadly, the fact that that is what I am hasn't managed to help put you down, now has it?"
Skullius frowned.
A Spirit Warden.
He didn't know that much about them, even with the knowledge that ca with the WILLS Fulgardt had instilled in him so far. In fact, he had only guessed just now. It hadn't made sense to him that an Incandescent Stager would have such powerful reign on souls, even those of other Incandescent Stagers, not to ntion Mythical grade weapons. The nail on the coffin was how the Ode had spoken the na of his Territory with his soul rather than his body!
That was when Skullius recalled that the only person he had t with such a level of bizarre command of souls as this, was Bek; the stray knight bound to a wife who had died and turned into a Spirit. The man he had t back in Harifrast.
Skullius frowned.
'This isn't go—'
"Now isn't the ti to get distracted. You're in my favored environnt, after all," the Ode said, and four booming voices ca from the n around the fire, much to Skullius' horror.
"FALL!"
"FAIL!"
"FOOL!"
"FLAYED!"
Again, Skullius was smitten by the effects of the voices.
His defense could not cut apart speech, and his reflective defense – which reacted only to attacks that he could not defend on his own – could not repel a voice, thus…
Skullius suddenly plumted straight towards the green bonfire at absurd speed as his skin was stripped from his body in a grotesque fashion.
His mind turned jumbled, and for a mont, he seed to cackle aloud like a madman!
Right as he fell to the verdant, fiery doom, however…
The Ode pulled a strand of his hair and grasped it in his right hand.
A micro-mont later, his arm was engulfed in a crimson fla that soon ford a smooth, thick, dark gauntlet that began at his elbow, decorated with rings of red-hot protrusions all the way to the knuckles!
With an insidious grin, the Ode, bolstered physically by his Territory to a degree most among Incandescent Stagers could only dream of, streaked into the fire right when Skullius was plunged into it!
Before he could co into the range of Skullius' passive defense, he threw his first with mad intent, a terrible force erupting as he did!
A scorching heat wave condensed into blunt, blistering carnage travelled through the great, green flas that already produced a sensational kind of scald.
As expected, the Infinite Sword God's defense attempted to dismantle the raw force… but it wasn't quite effective, not with the speed with which the mass of pure, cruel burn moved.
No light defense could have saved Skullius either.
BOOOOM!
The force and heat crashed into Skullius wholly, and for a mont, his body, bolstered by the might from an extra set of wings, the special effects of his swords, the boosts from [Infinite Sword God] and [Greatest Antiphon of Malignance]…simply couldn't endure it.
Skullius was baked to the bones, and even those were reduced to dust a mont later.
But…
---
[Author's Note]
Finally! 1,000 chapters!
This has been wild. It has been rough. There have been days where I thought to just quit, and when I've been told to quit, but against all that CAP, I made it. WE made it.
This is a great milestone for and you, my dear readers.
I'm thankful to anyone reading this ssage; anyone who has read this story to this point and enjoyed it – or hated it. I'm thankful regardless.
This story has a lot of flaws. I know. It's far from perfect, but as my first successful novel on here, it holds a special place in my heart. I have learned much from it, and I hope to continue on to the end with y'all.
I'd like to give a special thanks to the top contributors, feedback monsters, and silent, dedicated readers (relevant currently, and in no particular order):
@Mason_Arnold
@Mashu_Berusutora
@Thenavolist
@Felipe Montel
@Logan_4898
@benji_cosmo
@Bishaljoshi
This is all to ntion a few. I know y'all out there, and I'm very, very grateful. Cheers.
User Comments
0 comments from readers