Chapter 3: Chains and Swords

“Noah!” Noah was shaken awake and instinctively pulled out his dagger to attack the unknown foe. Instead, he felt Valia grab his wrist. “It’s me, come on,” she said in the pitch blackness.

“What’s going on?” he asked, trying to shake off the lingering grip of slumber. Nearby, Panma and Shannon were awoken by the commotion and asked the same question.

“I think something is going on outside.”

Screams and snarls then echoed across the village, and the light of several flames entered the tent. Noah and Valia rushed outside to find the villagers in a sea of burning yurts, screaming and panicking as their camp was raided. Several dozen fiends had surrounded the village, armed and armored like the slavers they encountered earlier. Their hulking bodies, wrapped in steel plates and behind broad shields, were all but immune to the centaur’s arrows, and every warrior that charged them simply ended up as another layer of blood on their weapons.

Nord galloped over, clutching his bloody arm. “Chief Panma, they’ve erected some kind of wall of spikes around the village! We can’t get out!”

“Gather the women and children in the center of the village and keep them safe, then rally the men. Tonight, we are at war,” the chief replied.

“Chief Panma, with respect, a counterattack right now will just cost you more men,” said Noah. “Focus on organizing your people, get them grouped together and ready to run. Valia, if you can create an opening in that fence, then all the villagers can escape from this enclosure and leave the fiends behind.”

“I’m on it. I take it you’re going after the leader?”

“You know me well. Chief Panma, are you with us?”

“You’ve helped us once. I trust you to help us again.”

Noah and Valia split up, Valia heading to the fence to bring it down and Noah searching for the mysterious leader. As Nord described, the barrier was made of spikes growing from the ground like bamboo shoots. However, each point was formed from solid bone rather than wood.

“What in the world?” she hissed.

“You! Get away from there!” A fiend came charging towards her, unhindered by his thick armor.

Valia raised her sword. “Zodiac: Baol! Teez!” Wielding enhanced strength and her mana-sharpened blade, Valia lunged for the behemoth and sliced him in half down the middle. “Don’t interfere.” She then went to work hacking away at the fence, but even with all her power, it proved far more difficult than cutting down the armored fiend.

Meanwhile, Panma and the other men of the village ushered the confused and frightened villagers together and formed a protective wall of spears and bows around them. Everyone was in their centaur form, ready to run at the chief’s orders. In the group’s center were the women and elders, carrying small children on their backs and trying to comfort them in the presence of the monstrous fiends. They roared and snarled, banging their weapons against their shields and rattling chains to terrify their prey, and then all fell silent as two men stepped forward, both garbed in black cloaks.

One of them, carrying a sword, pulled back his hood to reveal pale skin, pointed ears, and wicked eyes. “Men and women of the horse tribe, I am Deacon, and I come to you tonight with an offer. Join us, or die. The mighty beings around you were given the same choice, given the chance to shed their weakness and experience true power, and look at them now. Aren’t they beautiful? Accept the blessing of the Profane, and a new life awaits you, a life of conquest and victory. Those who refuse will be butchered where they stand and fed to the survivors. So, what say you?”

Nord answered Deacon with an arrow, though he dodged it by tilting his head. “You say you offer us power, but you carry chains! The only life you can give us is one of anguish and horror!”

Deacon cracked a deranged grin. “Anguish? Horror? Let me teach you what those words mean.” He raised his sword above his head, and several centaurs shuddered in sight as the sleeve of his cloak dropped. Rather than holding a sword, Deacon’s arm had become a sword, a blade made of solid bone growing from his wrist. Attached to his forearm was his parasite, almost completely fused with the tissue. The second cloaked man half-heartedly motioned to stop him, but Deacon stabbed the ground with a squeal of delight.

A magic circle appeared around his arm, written with black runes, and flashed as bone spikes burst from the ground under Nord, piercing his limbs and body a dozen times. He howled in agony as he was hoisted into the air above the heads of his kin, then was silenced as a spike drove up through his chin and skewered his eye, narrowly missing his brain. All the wounds were nonfatal, leaving him unable to move and gripped by indescribable pain. Women and children screamed at the sight, watching his blood run down the spikes.

“That is the fate of those who refuse the Profane. If you’d like to avoid getting impaled on the stick, I have someone who will convince you of the value of the carrot.” He turned to the man behind him. “Go on, then, tell them the good news.”

The man began to transform beneath his cloak, with his two human legs changing into a horse’s body. He removed his cover to show the parasite latched onto his chest. He appeared gaunt, and his eyes were dark and sunken, but he had a smile on his face. In the center of the crowd, Shannon covered her mouth in shock while tears streamed down her eyes.

“Father,” she gasped.

“Friends, family, it is I, Korbin. I’ve come back to you, to deliver our clan to salvation.”

“Korbin died, you are a deceiver!” Panma shouted, but deep down, he could never forget the face of his daughter’s husband and granddaughter’s father.

“It really is me, Chief. I am Korbin, the same Korbin that hunted with you in the eastern hills, who fished with you in the Ysanan River, who pulled out that arrow that hit your shoulder all those years ago, who married Lenore and raised Shannon under your proud gaze.”

“Don’t you dare say her name, not while standing beside that monster!”

“Father!” Shannon cried out as she tried to break free of the group, but Panma stopped her.

“That isn’t your father!”

“But I am, and I’m here to fulfill a father’s duty, to give my child what she needs to live and be happy. When I was taken, I was full of fear and doubt, just as you are now, but that’s because I didn’t understand what awaited me.” He started petting the parasite on his chest. “That all changed when I received this wonderful gift. Words can’t describe it, the power it gives you, power that erases all fear and pain, the power to take whatever you want and destroy whatever gets in your way! With this, we can purge the land of the humans and rule over all the tribes as kings, as gods!”

“Madman, you’re a madman!” Panma exclaimed.

“You’ll understand. Once you experience it, you’ll understand. I brought these people here to show you how wonderful this gift is.”

“You brought them here?” Shannon gasped. “You led these monsters to our tribe and caused all this death and destruction?!”

“It’s a small price to pay, you’ll see. Everything that has been lost can be replaced, and our tribe will grow stronger than ever before. Come to me, Shannon. Trust your father, I know what’s best for you.”

“Yes, child, accept the gift. It is the only way you will leave this place alive,” said Deacon.

A new voice then spoke out. “Well now, things are getting interesting. I would appreciate the drama more if it wasn’t happening at this ungodly hour.”

Deacon spun around, facing the approaching stranger. How in the world had he snuck up on him like that? “Who are you?! Identify yourself!”

The stranger raised his hat and smiled. “Noah, the Wandering Spirit, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“I’ve heard that name before. You’ve left a number of horror stories in Uther.”

“You flatter me. It’s true, I do have quite a history, and I suggest you learn from it. Take your little beasties and get out of here.”

“You think you can kill me?”

“You’ll beg me to kill you, in the end. This is the only chance you’re going to get. Start running.”

“Enough of this. Korbin, show your friends the true meaning of power.”

“Yes, Master.”

Korbin began to change, releasing a groan that became a monstrous snarl. His body grew twice its original size, reshaping his skeleton and inflating his muscles. Claws grew from the tips of his fingers, his teeth extended into goblin-like tusks, and his skin became rough and grotesque. He faced Noah and roared like a mad beast.

“Are you really sure you want to do this in front of your daughter?” Noah asked as he drew his sword.

Korbin roared again and charged, with each hooved step shaking the ground. Noah calmly waited for him to get in close, and when the moment was right, he ducked down, rolling underneath Korbin’s huge body while delivering two precise slashes. Korbin struck the ground with a tumble, rolling and flailing to a stop, now missing his left front leg and right hind leg.

“Father!” Shannon screamed.

As he tried to get up, a glass sphere shattered against his face, spraying him with acid. Though his pain tolerance was elevated, he still snarled in anguish and tried to wipe it away, but his healing ability could not repair the damage until the acid had run its course.

“What was that about the meaning of power?” Noah asked, turning to Deacon.

“Bastard!” he cursed.

A loud whistle then rang out from behind the crowd of villagers. It was Valia, and though the fiends tried to silence her, she cut them down with equal grace and strength. “Everyone! This way to get out!” she shouted.

“Follow her! Move!” Panma ordered, prompting all the centaurs to turn and chase after Valia. Shannon hesitated, but he pulled her along.

“I did not say you could leave!” Deacon howled as another magic circle surrounded his flattened arm. A gunshot rang out, and Deacon swore he felt something pass right through him, as though Death itself had just breathed on the back of his neck. His spell was disrupted before he could activate it, and he turned to Noah, holding an illusory pistol in one hand and his sword in the other.

“They’re running for their lives. I suggest you do the same.”

“Go after them! Do not let a single one escape!” Deacon barked before turning to Noah. “I’ll have your head on a pike!” He then raised his arm and charged, initiating their fight.

Meanwhile, the horse tribe rushed out of their enclosure, escaping through the opening that Valia had created. They reached the open fields but were not out of danger. Countless more fiends were waiting for them, carrying weapons and chains to seize men, women, and children alike. The fiends ran on two legs or all fours with monstrous speed, trying to surround the crowd and block them back in. However, here on the plains, the centaurs had the advantage.

Panma directed everyone’s movements with shouts and cries in their native tongue, steering the group to avoid danger. In the middle were the women, children, and elderly, the most vulnerable of the tribe, but with their centaur bodies and nomadic lifestyle, they could move fast and travel far while the warriors kept the fiends at bay.

The moment the fiends entered the archers’ range, arrows assailed them like torrential rain and struck with pinpoint accuracy. Despite their regenerative abilities and high pain threshold, the powerful mutants were inevitably brought down, riddled with so many arrows that they could barely move or breathe. These warriors were the best archers in Handent, able to gallop at full speed while dispensing arrows rapidly and accurately. Even at night, their skills were impeccable. It seemed the centaurs would cross this hurdle, but that could not last.

The Ysanan River was ahead, a roaring torrent of foam and rock. Panma directed the herd to run parallel to it in search of an area they could cross. If they could reach the other side, the fiends would never catch them. Even with their mutated bodies, the centaurs’ arrows would bring them down, and the current would carry them off. However, as they searched for a calm area, their pursuers refused to give up.

“SHANNON!” Korbin roared as he rocketed across the plains, leading an army of fiends.

He had reattached his severed legs, and though remaining scarred from Noah’s acid, his face was also healed. Hearing his voice, Shannon nearly stumbled, her heart caught in a vise, but the women around her grabbed her hands to support her and keep her focused.

The men hesitated to shoot at one of their own, but their fear of the charging hulk forced them to release their arrows. In defense, Korbin grabbed two fiends by the backs of their necks and used them as shields to block the onslaught. A group of warriors hung back to intercept him, stabbing and slashing with their swords, but though they drew his blood, he smashed through them like a runaway train.

He was closing in on the back of the herd, moving with monstrous speed. Upon entering their ranks, he began grabbing men, women, and children, hoisting them effortlessly over his head, and throwing them at full strength to knock others over. The fiends used similar tactics, hurling bolas, tethered harpoons, and even rocks to bring down their targets. The herd was forced to scatter, and those who fell were seized. Those who fought back were beaten into submission, no matter how many bones had to be broken and how much blood had to be spilled.

“You will all be taken! You will all be taught as I was! Embrace the gift! Embrace the power!” the mutated centaur shouted.

“Korbin!” Panma shouted, pointing his sword at his former son-in-law while keeping Shannon behind him. “Look at yourself! Look at what you are doing to your kin! You’re nothing but a monster!”

“I’m doing this for all of you, so that you may understand! Shannon, get over here!” Shannon frantically shook her head with tears streaming down her face. “Shannon! You will do as your father commands!”

“You aren’t her father, not anymore. You lost that privilege when you led this evil to our home! As chief, it is my duty to protect our tribe and erase the shame that you have brought upon our family!”

Panma then charged towards Korbin, holding his sword like a jousting lance. Korbin didn’t intervene or react when Panma’s blade pierced his chest. He just looked down at the chief with a cold sneer.

“Do you understand now? Do you see how weak you are and how strong I am? Look around; look at how easily our kin falls against such a superior force. This is not the end of our tribe; this is our initiation into a golden age! The power is there for the taking, and with it, we shall rule!” He swung his arm and struck Panma, knocking him through the air with several broken bones.

“Grandfather!” Shannon screamed as she rushed to his side, but Korbin grabbed her.

“Don’t worry, we’re going to be a family again, just you wait and see!” he said with an unhinged laugh.

He then gagged in pain, unable to speak, as a thrown spear imbedded itself in the back of his neck, narrowly missing his spine and coming out of his throat. His hold on his daughter came undone, and Valia, having hurled the pike, grabbed her hand and pulled her away. Valia stood before Shannon, protecting her, and looked around. The mighty warriors of the horse tribe stood no chance against the armored fiends, and were beaten to the ground and locked in chains. Those who could not stand were simply dragged. If she was to have any chance of saving these people, she had to work fast, but the problem was the fiend in front of her.

Having ripped the spear out of his neck, Korbin pointed at Valia and gave a guttural snarl. “Do not interfere! My kin will be taken alive, but get in my way, and I will kill you!”

“Father, please stop this! Look at what you’re doing! Our people are being brutalized and for what?!” Shannon cried.

“No words can describe the euphoria when the power of the Profane surges through your veins, remaking you into a higher being! Trying to explain it further would just be a waste of time. Once you feel it for yourself, you’ll understand, and you and everyone else will thank me.”

“Look at yourself! Is this power worth your soul?!”

“Shannon, enough,” said Valia solemnly. “He’s no longer your father. He’s been swallowed by that parasite. For the sake of your people, I must end his life.”

“No, you can’t! Please!” Shannon shouted, grabbing Valia’s arm.

“I’m sorry, Shannon, I’m so sorry, but this is not a choice you’re being given. This is simply the reality you must endure.”

Shannon fell to her knees, sobbing. “I’ve already lost my father once. I can’t bear to lose him again. Please, you have to save him!”

Valia faced Korbin. “Forgive me, both of you. Close your eyes and think of your father, Shannon, think of him as he once was. Think of him as he was before he ... before he lost his mind, before ... this madness corrupted his heart.”

Valia’s sword shook in her trembling grip, slowly falling as the strength left her arms like blood from a wound. Korbin roared and charged towards Valia and Shannon, shaking the ground with his massive hooves. Valia looked at him, but instead of the mutated centaur, she saw her brother, who shared the same scream of anguish and dementia. Back on Kisara Island, she stood where Shannon stood, faced with her loved one possessed by the demons of insanity. She fought so hard to try and break through to him, to smash through the walls he put up while blinded by the idea of power. All it brought her was pain.

“Valia!” Shannon cried, tackling the elf and knocking her out of Korbin’s way.

Valia rolled to her feet, but she could not raise her sword. She had wielded a blade for hundreds of years, slaying those who opposed her, regardless of the pain it would inflict on their loved ones. She had made peace with it long ago, but though every instinct screamed for her to end Korbin’s life, he now looked like the thin thread of hope connecting her to Valon. If she killed Korbin, if she gave up hope in him, what right did she have to hold out hope for Valon? After all the damage and harm her brother had wrought, what right did he have to live if Shannon’s father had to be killed in front of her?

She looked at Korbin, focusing on the parasite clinging to his chest. She felt a glimmer of hope, a chance to solve all this horror. According to Reynolds, removing the parasites from their hosts sometimes allowed them to return to normal. The chances of successful recovery were low, but she had to try.

“Shannon, get back to the river bank. I’m going to try to save him, but if it doesn’t work, you need to be prepared, as do I.”

Shannon nodded and moved to a rocky outcropping behind Valia, leaving her back protected. Valia and Korbin faced each other once more, and Valia gripped her sword with new strength.

“Korbin, if there is any part of you that still cares for your daughter, you will do what’s right, even if that means dying.”

“The only one dying here is you!” he roared as he charged towards her.

Valia stood her ground and took a deep breath, honing her desperate resolve into a powerful force. Korbin thundered towards her, wielding Panma’s sword, and the two collided. There was no ringing of steel against steel, instead the ripping of steel against flesh. At the last moment, Valia sidestepped out of the way and sliced the parasite off his chest, leaving only a few legs gripping and the veins buried in his body.

Korbin stumbled forward, groaning and shaking as tremors moved throughout his body and his veins bulged against his skin. Valia held her breath, praying everything terrible would be reversed and this night would have a happy ending, but it was not to be. Instead of shrinking and returning to his original form, Korbin mutated even further. Spikes grew out of his back, his tail turned into a writhing coil, and his muscles twisted and deformed hideously beneath his flesh. He clawed at his chest as though burned by Noah’s acid, howling in agony, but it soon became a deep bellow.

His arms were then yanked back as if by an invisible force, stretching out behind him as his shoulders dislocated. They twisted around until the bones ripped through the flesh, and then from the splintered ends, new bone tissue surged out and encased his arms. With a sickening crunch and fountains of blood, Korbin’s ribcage opened up like a blossoming flower. His ribs multiplied, and his torso changed shape, becoming a giant tooth-filled mouth, with his internal organs fusing into a rudimentary tongue. His head likewise transformed, retracting into his torso like a turtle and becoming one with his spine, with his brain taking its new position just above the upper jaw. His arms were now a pair of horns, anointing this new abomination like a crown.

Witnessing this transformation and seeing what her father had become, Shannon released a tearful shriek of terror. Her voice drew the monster’s attention, and it turned to her and roared without a shred of humanity in its beastly voice. Every trace of the man who raised her was now gone, replaced with a soulless demon. It charged towards her, continuing to snarl with rabid bloodlust.

Shannon was cornered and too scared to move in the face of the coming monster. It pounced, about to close its jaws around her, but at the very last second, Valia managed to intercept. Her sword was wrapped in mana, allowing her, with one mighty slash, to behead the monster at what had initially been Korbin’s waist. All three tumbled off the cliff and into the surging waters below and were carried off in darkness.

Deacon zoomed back and forth around Noah, attacking from all angles. Their blades bounced back and forth rapidly against each other as if drawn together by gravity, only to be explosively repelled upon colliding. Up close, with his own magic active, Noah could see the dark power of the parasite flowing into Deacon from his mutated arm. The potency and strength were far more significant than he had seen with the fiends. This parasite seemed like an entirely different creed from what was bestowed to the lower ranks.

Deacon, once an elf, had far greater speed and strength than he ever possessed before, making him impossible to chase down and difficult to block. However, Noah was fending him off with expert swordplay, proving invulnerable to the Profane warrior’s fighting technique while inflicting one cut after another. Though each wound healed in seconds, the look on Deacon’s face revealed his building unease. It was dawning on him that he wasn’t fighting an ordinary human. Every drop of blood he lost, every cut he received, darkened and enlarged the shadow he now found himself standing in.

Deacon backed away and held out his arm with a circle of black runes burning around his wrist. Noah shot him with a mana bullet, interrupting his spell before it could activate, leaving him unable to try against for several seconds. Though there were no witnesses, Noah was abstaining from utilizing his invisibility or his clone, instead limiting himself to illusion guns and bullets. This late-night marauder was a perfect source of combat data, letting him test this new ability’s usefulness on a durable foe.

Unable to best Noah in close-range fighting, the Profane warrior moved in a zigzag pattern to evade Noah’s bullets, zooming back and forth. Noah held the illusory gun steady and planted round after round into Deacon, but with his superior speed, he eventually dodged one of Noah’s shots. Granted a brief window, Deacon formed a dagger of bone within his arm, sliding out of his wrist and into his hand, then hurled it at Noah.

Noah sidestepped to dodge and lost his bead on Deacon, who continued running while hurling daggers. Noah ran to escape the volley and countered with mana bullets, but Deacon’s Profane agility proved him a difficult target. Noah switched to an automatic rifle and then a shotgun, compensating for accuracy with rapid fire and buckshot. How the caliber of bullets he used affected his targets had yet to be determined, but this was the perfect time to find out.

Bursts of illusory ammo pelted Deacon, each time interrupting his magic. About to curse in frustration, he was struck with an idea and ducked into a tent. Just as he expected, no bullets hit him from behind. He didn’t understand how they worked, but it was clear these bullets couldn’t pass through solid objects, even something as flimsy as a tent. Now given cover, Deacon plunged his sword into the ground.

“Field of Impalement!”

Upon piercing the soil, Deacon was surrounded by a black magic circle, and a wave of bone spikes began surging from the ground in all directions like an expanding wall of spears. The rising spikes ripped apart the surrounding tents and hoisted the corpses of fiend and innocent alike into the air. However, after only a few moments of growth, the spell was broken, interrupted by an explosion going off at Deacon’s feet. It originated from Noah, standing at the edge of Deacon’s territory and holding a six-round grenade launcher. Though the shredded tent over Deacon’s head protected him from illusory impacts, his senses were still exposed. Five more grenades exploded at his feet, assaulting him with blinding light and deafening noise.

A phantasmal dust cloud was left behind, and whether it was frustration, anguish, or determination, Deacon howled and leaped high into the air, out of the smoke, and over his field of spikes to the open ground. Noah dispelled his illusion and conjured his bow and an arrow from within his ring. With careful aim and a steady breath, he drilled a hole in Deacon’s shoulder while it was in the air.

The warrior hit the ground rolling, and got to his feet, amused. “Ha! A whole quiver couldn’t kill me!” He ripped the arrow out, only to find that the head had separated from the shaft and was left in the wound. He then began to feel a stinging pain radiating from the injury. “Poison? I’ve outgrown such silly weaknesses!” he shouted while trying with everything he had not to flinch.

“Not poison, rather an irritant; capsaicin. There is a pepper in the Anorvan Forest that the elves call Byrnestoir’s Fury, one so spicy that those who eat it need healing magic afterwards. I harvested some of the extract and purified it, then applied it to that arrowhead. Now it’s flowing through your veins, spreading into every little capillary and pore. You Profane have a high tolerance for injury, but just looking at you now, it’s clear you aren’t immune to pain.”

“Bastard!” Deacon hissed, feeling a stinging sensation spreading through his body, from his toes to his eyeballs.

He hurled two daggers at Noah and then jumped again, but an arrow struck him in midair, and he hit the earth with a hard tumble. Before he could get up, a third arrow was planted in his back, then a fourth. Noah calmly approached him, launching arrow after arrow, each sticking in Deacon and hindering his mobility. He struggled to stand and angrily began ripping out the arrows, then staggered, disoriented. It felt like his senses were being twisted until they threatened to snap.

“There is plenty of nasty stuff on each of those arrowheads. It seems even your biology can’t handle them all,” said Noah as he approached.

“Shut your mouth, you pathetic human!” Deacon screamed.

He tried, rather clumsily, to slash at Noah, but the moment he raised his arm, it was taken from him, severed by a perfect slice. He stared at the bloody stump, seeing doubles from all the toxins flowing in him. He then collapsed, not because of the drugs, but because Noah delivered another slice, severing one of his legs. Deacon lay helpless on the ground, and Noah removed his remaining limbs. Though blood poured from his wounds, Deacon thrashed and snarled in blind fury, refusing to accept his defeat.

“You’re quite resilient, I almost couldn’t make those cuts because your bones are so tough. It’s no wonder Prince Lupin is having so much trouble with you guys. However, I’d say it’s pretty clear where you and I sit on the power scale, comparatively.” With his sword, Noah poked at Deacon’s severed, mutated arm. “Then again, you are merely a poor imitation, a degraded copy of the true Profane. At least you were a good source of data during the fight, and I’m sure there are plenty of secrets I can squeeze out of you. Be glad to know your existence was of some benefit to me.”

Noah then perked up, hearing the sound of wingbeats. He gazed up at the moon, seeing a massive creature circling overhead. His eyes widened, feeling something he was not used to, a shiver crawling up his spine. His spiritual senses told him that something dangerous was approaching, something that his body instinctively recoiled from, feeling the fear that his mind could not.

Noah conjured an illusory sniper rifle and gazed at the coming threat through his scope. It was a massive bird, some kind of condor, but what made his hair stand on end was the man standing on its back. Noah pulled the trigger, hitting the bird in the chest and making it stumble in the air, causing the man to fall off. He dropped out of the sky, with Noah hoping the fall would kill him while knowing it wouldn’t. The man landed with perfect grace, like a cat hopping off a table.