Chapter 18: Ryan Returns

That is the reason that the Fallen marked you when you were a child. They were saving you for later ... waiting for you to grow closer to your full potential.

There was now a large hole in what used to be a flawless, circle of stone that made up Diagora Stadium. Rubble from the coliseum scattered around the white sands of Galsin, creating small hills of piled stones amidst the destruction. The hole was so large that it went all the way to the top of the three-hundred-foot wall, effectively splitting the stone structure in half. At the bottom of the newly created ravine between the two sides of the split wall, the Monks made their final stand.

Torsha was despondent. Even after raising a barrier of light with several other Monks, the force of that near-mountain-sized boulder was tremendous. Several Monks lost their lives expending too much energy into the barrier. Others fell to their deaths or were crushed when the integrity of the wall became compromised. It was only because of Brother Jonathan’s quick thinking that any survived at all. The man actually created a sort of net of light ropes while they were falling which cushioned their descent just enough to survive. Unfortunately, a stray rock nicked the man in the head, and he lost consciousness. Whether he was alive or dead, Torsha couldn’t tell. At least Ryan was alright as he lay beside her. She had cushioned him with her body, so he probably came out better than she did. Still, it wouldn’t do him much good considering what came after.

The surviving Monks barely had time to recover before the Berserkers were on them. They came at them so fast, running on all fours like hounds on the hunt. Torsha tried to take Ryan and flee, but found her leg had been broken in the fall. Most of the other Monks were in no better condition, so she poured all her strength into her Light Elemency. Torsha and a couple other Monks raised a barrier of translucent white light around themselves and Ryan. A few other surviving Monks outside the barrier attempted to distract the Berserkers with glancing attacks, but they only managed to get the attention of two. The last one kept its mad gaze squarely on Ryan’s unconscious form.

The creature sent a gigantic, bony white hand into the ground and pulled out a massive mace. The mace seemed to be a makeshift creation of Earth Elemency and the creature’s own bones as white protrusions served as spikes throughout the weapon. With one last growl, the monster began pounding away at the barrier of light. Again and again, the Berserker raised its newly made weapon, which was larger than most men, and slammed it against the shield with unparalleled power. Dust blew in all directions from each blow. Torsha found that she and her companions within the barrier began to sink into the ground from the force of the blows. Good thing they had thought to create a complete dome around themselves, even beneath the ground. Though even that didn’t seem to do much good against the relentless strength of a Berserker.

Torsha growled, gritting her teeth and panting with the effort to maintain the barrier. Cracks appeared along the barrier’s surface like a fractured mirror, but she attempted to repair these as best she could. She could tell that the strain would soon be too much for the other Light Monks within the barrier.

Just a little longer! she thought in desperation. Just a little longer and reinforcements will arrive! Monastery ships are on their way!

Reinforcements did arrive in a sense. When the other two Berserkers were on the verge of overwhelming the Light Monks outside the barrier, Grafael came roaring to the rescue with a handful of the examinees. Even Explosion Logan lent a hand, firing his combustion orbs from his Psionic Pistol. Their attacks were valiant, but barely pinpricks to the seemingly indestructible Berserkers, who responded by hurling boulders using Earth Elemency.

Torsha winced as a particularly vicious blow ripped at the barrier. More cracks appeared along the surface of the light dome, creating the illusion of an intricate pattern of spiderwebs. The others were too busy fighting for their own lives at the moment. They didn’t have time to help.

The Berserker grunted in satisfaction, opening its mouth to reveal a putrid, rotting tongue and licking its mace of bone and stone.

Still panting in exhaustion, Torsha turned to her companions to the right and left. Their faces were ashen. Terror and pain were etched into every feature.

Torsha gave an angry growl. If this is the end, then let it be as Light Monks, not as frightened sheep!

“We are the Children of the Monastery. We are the Monks who serve the Light,” she said loudly in the mantra of the Monastery. “In the Caretaker’s love, we commit our spirits. In his wisdom, we commit our souls. Peace is his light. Peace is our way. To his glory in the Realm of Light, our souls will return to his kingdom.”

Slowly, the other Monks began to repeat the mantra with her. “We are the children of the Monastery,” said Brother Robert as he bowed his head, raising his hands higher.

“We are the Monks who serve the Light,” said Sister Ruth, serenity slowly replacing fear as she closed her eyes and gave a sad smile.

“In the Caretaker’s love, we commit our spirits,” said Brother Jonathan, surprisingly regaining consciousness, though not rising. “In his wisdom, we commit our souls.”

From his resting place on the ground, and with blood running down from his matted hair, he placed a hand on Torsha’s arm. She felt grateful for the touch, feeling a tiny trace of his Light Elemency surge through her. Not to strengthen her. He had no strength left. But simply to comfort her. In that, he succeeded.

“Peace is his light,” said Brother Isaac, a tear sliding down his cheek, but his voice remained steady.

Torsha gave a cry as the massive mace crashed into the barrier one last time, shattering it completely. Each Monk, with the exception of Brother Jonathan, was on their knees. They now sat completely naked before the power of the undead warrior. Torsha had no strength left, not even enough strength to move, let alone use Light Elemency. It was over. And yet, that wasn’t such a sad thought. After all, she had done her best, fought her hardest in the name of her Monastery and her dearest friend. Surely the Lord Caretaker could forgive her for her earlier transgressions. If the Light Monks’ teachings were to be believed, he was a God of compassion, not of wrath. Surely he would forgive her. Surely. Either way, she’d be seeing him very soon.

The monster raised his mace to deliver the final blow.

Torsha closed her eyes, and whispered, “Peace is our way.”

She heard a mighty crash and the crackling of flames. She felt the heat of ... something against her face. It was a familiar sensation. A feeling like the sun bathing her body, but warmer ... stronger, and much more comforting.

Torsha opened her eyes and drew in a sharp breath. The Berserker lay on its back, its mace broken in pieces by its side. On its chest stood a figure that looked small compared to the beast, and yet he seemed to tower over everyone there. Ryan Uruks, miraculously conscious and armed with his Psionic Weapons, raised a crimson-glowing sword wreathed in red flames. The fury on his face seemed a match for the Berserkers as he raised his sword and slammed it into the monster’s chest. Amazingly, his flaming sword penetrated the beast’s armor, going deep into its breastplate. Torsha had seen the Corrucks of Monks bash against the Berserkers without barely making a dent, but Ryan’s blade actually punctured the seemingly indestructible armor.

The monster gave a sharp shriek of surprise, or perhaps anguish, and bashed Ryan off its chest with a gigantic fist. Ryan soared through the air, but backflipped midflight to land lithely on his feet, appearing unfazed as he brandished his flaming sword in both hands.

The other two Berserkers immediately forgot about their battles as they rushed Ryan all at once. One of them even had Explosion Logan under its heel, and the other one was battering against a dome of crystal made by the Elf twins. They no longer cared they were on the verge of victory as they turned all their attention on the young half-breed.

Ryan seemed to be in better form than Torsha had ever seen him, effortlessly avoiding their claws, tails, and jaws as they came at him with bestial fury. It was like he possessed a new awareness that allowed him to sense the attacks of his enemies before they could land any. He occasionally batted the three of them away with his flaming sword, leaving sizable scorch marks in their previously indestructible bodies, though not deep enough to cause any real damage.

The Berserkers crafted weapons of stone and bone which Ryan blocked with his clawed gauntlet. One monster hurled a giant boulder about a third of the size of the one they used against the Light Monks. Ryan gave a single swipe of his sword, sending out an arc of flame that met the boulder in midair. The boulder exploded on impact, sending smoke and chunks of rock in every direction.

Though the beasts seemed mindless, Torsha realized that they were slowly maneuvering Ryan into a choke position, surrounding him even as he held his ground against their onslaught.

Realizing this, Torsha cried out, “Ryan, lookout!” She attempted to go to him, but gave a yelp of pain and fell to the sand when she put weight on her broken leg.

All three Berserkers came at Ryan from three different sides, leaving no room for escape. The trap had been sprung.

Just when it seemed they had caught him, Ryan raised his hands. A barrier of green energy briefly appeared, stopping the Berserkers momentarily. As his enemies flinched back in puzzlement, Ryan swept his hand forward, and each of the Berserkers was blown away by an invisible force. It wasn’t wind that he used, not with that barrier. That was a power of the mind. The power of a Mental-Type.

Torsha gasped so hard that she thought she might choke. How did he do that? Ryan is a physical psionic type Elemental. A Beater. He shouldn’t have telekinesis. That’s a Shielder’s power.

Each of the three Berserkers landed a good dozen yards away from Ryan, making huge craters with their heavy bodies. Though dazed, the monsters seemed no worse for wear as they rose back to their feet, growling savagely as dust drizzled off their shoulders.

Ryan panted, wiping sweat from his brow. “You know, it’s cool that you guys have such confidence in me. But I’m ... I’m getting a little tired here. They’re really big, and really tough. And there are, like...” Ryan had to turn back and count the Berserkers with his fingers. “Three of them. Wouldn’t mind a little help.”

Torsha looked around her and realized that everyone was just as confused and awed by Ryan’s appearance as she was. They had all just stood there while he single-handedly fended off monsters that all of them combined had struggled against. Slowly, the examinees and the remaining Light Monks took up defensive positions around Ryan.

“For the record, this does not make you cooler than me,” she heard Explosion Logan grumble to Ryan.

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what it means,” said Phil of the Reject Squad.

“Hey! We were saving his butt while he was all unconscious and junk!”

“Again, that was Torsha, not you!”

“You know,” said Ryan while breathing heavily. “I do appreciate y’all babysitting me when I was all comatose, but I really think we need to focus here.”

The Berserkers circled slowly, appearing more wary than before.

With a hearty laugh, Grafael leaned towards Torsha and said, “You really did train him well, Werewolf. My little brother has finally become a true warrior. Truer than I could ever hope to be. We have you to thank for that, wolf sister.”

I’m pretty sure I didn’t teach him any of that, thought Torsha, but said nothing as she tried very hard to just accept the compliment.

The Saurian then gave a mighty roar and jumped a good distance of at least fifty feet, tackling the first Berserker to charge at Ryan’s group. Grafael held the creature by its rotting throat, choking it with the shaft of his hammer and grappling with its flailing arms.

Ryan gave a battle cry and rushed to help his Saurian brother. The examinees and the Light Monks joined him without hesitation while Brother Jonathan stayed behind with Torsha as they continued leaning on their hands while lying on the ground. The battle resumed in earnest.

While the others fought, Torsha was surprised to find the young Elves, Esan and Elan, appear at her side, as well as Phil, the leader of the Reject squad. The two young Elves started erecting a combined wall made of pink crystals and green vines which shielded Torsha and Brother Jonathan from ricocheting debris.

“We’ll keep you covered while Phil treats you!” said the Elves together, straining as their wall deflected a sizable boulder from the battle.

“You’re a medic, Phil?” Torsha asked in relief.

“And a damn good one. Lucky you,” said the Reject Squad leader, sounding more confident than Torsha ever remembered him sounding.

Phil channeled psions too his fingertips as he started examining Torsha. She winced as he ran an orange-glowing hand down her right leg, stopping at the knee where the break occurred.

“It looks like the break is clean,” he explained. “That’s good. It should heal on its own in a couple months.”

Looking back at the battlefield where Ryan continued struggling against the Berserkers with the others, Torsha growled and grabbed Phil by his shoulder. “I can’t wait that long. I need to get back in the fight now. I have to help Ryan.”

Phil hesitated as he said, “Well, Werewolves do have powerful recuperative abilities. It’s possible that my Medical Elemency combined with your natural regeneration might heal the break instantly. Still, we’re gonna need a lot of psions to do the job, more than what you can get from your average Sun Gem.”

Brother Jonathan crawled forward as he reached into his robes and pulled out a vial of white-glowing Holy Water, proffering it to Phil. “You’ll get all you need from this, and Holy Water has its own healing properties too.”

Saria yelled a battle cry as she continued to duel the man with the grinning mask. If this thing was indeed some kind of Mystic, he’d been given superb training in physical enhancement. His strength and speed were a match for her own in almost every way. Saria had been steadily growing stronger, allowing her to surpass the confines of Level Three in power to a Level Four. But even still, the masked man matched her beat for beat. She’d dash at him in bursts of speed that would’ve been too quick for the human eye to catch, and he’d come right back at her just as fast. They sped across the battlefield like that, zipping from spot to spot faster than bullets as their weapons clashed, all the while throwing up dirt as they battled.

There was just one thing going against Saria in this exchange. Though the masked man’s physical prowess seemed to indicate a very high-level Physical Type, he seemed to possess regeneration as well which was a Medical-Type Psionic Ability. Or at least, she thought it must’ve been regeneration, though she never saw any flesh mend. Come to think of it, she’d never seen any flesh at all, no matter how many dents she put into his leather armor. More than once, she landed a blow to her opponent that would’ve killed anyone else, even Beater Elementals. But he just kept getting up, laughing as if it were all a big joke.

Saria found herself losing stamina as the madman continued to press her, forcing her to fight more and more defensively.

She chanced a glance to see that her subordinates were not faring much better. Several of her guards engaging the other two masked men lay face down in puddles of blood. In horror, she realized that the masked men often tore the faces from those they killed, leaving nothing but a bloody heap and a bit of exposed skull. Her Elementals became more cautious, and Saria could see the dread in their eyes, a dread that she was beginning to share. They had scored their own hits just as she had against her opponent, but no matter what they did, their assailants simply refused to die.

Thankfully, Varnus seemed to be holding his own in his battle, but the raging masked man’s assault was too overwhelming for the Wielder to offer much help. Back and forth they fought, using the most destructive of Elemental attacks that sent swaths of chaos coursing throughout the battlefield. She and the other lower-leveled Elementals had to take care not to get swept in the carnage as bits of fire and burning shadows bathed the fields. To think that one of these creatures was powerful enough to make even Wielder Level Elementals sweat.

What if they’re all that strong? thought Saria in a moment of panic. What if this laughing maniac is only toying with me, and each one of them is as strong as a Wielder, or perhaps even stronger?!

If only she possessed her former strength. These beings were formidable, but hardly a match for a Vessel. If she had Tava’s power again, she would’ve incinerated the lot of them by now.

Tava! Wake up, you stupid cat! If I die, they get your Core, and I doubt you’d like whatever these things have in mind for you afterwards!

Complicating matters further, the crazed Space Pirates occasionally made a mad dash for her amidst the chaos, keeping the bulk of her forces occupied. The Fourths were doing their best to clear out the remaining mercenaries, but the Pirates had finally gotten wise and entrenched themselves with energy shields surrounding their position a quarter of a mile south of her. Their numbers dwindled bit by bit, but they still got a lucky shot every now and then, taking down yet another precious Elemental life.

Just as their impasse seemed insurmountable, things got worse. The lead masked man who battled Varnus suddenly shook violently. It spoke in a scratchy tongue that Saria did not recognize. It almost seemed like the man was cursing, and it hurt it to do so. Then its mask began to smoke with a white fog, and it raised its sword in both hands. The sword, which had been leaking black shadows from its previous attacks, began to glow white. Varnus summoned more flame vines, ready for this new attack, but it didn’t come for him. Instead, the masked man changed the direction of his blade at the last moment, sending a wave of white energy spiraling towards Saria.

Saria barely had time to move out of the way, even with her considerable speed, but she still got grazed in her ankle. The energy attack seared straight through her top-grade Psionic Armor, flaying her flesh to the bone. Saria gave a shriek of pain as she rolled away and came to her feet in a crouch. Her armor regrew over the wound, and she still had her foot luckily, but she would have a limp. That would slow her down. She’d barely been keeping up as it was. She knew she was as good as done for.

The man with the grinning mask thought so too as he lunged for her, his axes also turning white like the lead masked man had done earlier. With a start, Saria realized what the creatures were doing, and it sent shivers up her spine.

Arcs of white energy trailed after her from the tomahawks. She managed to put on one last dash of super speed, even with her injured ankle, but the arcs of white energy followed after her. Then two figures leapt behind her to stop the attacks. They raised their Psionic Weapons to block the light projectiles, but the arcs of white energy went straight through their blades, severing the head of one man, and cutting the other man in half.

Saria took a mental note of each man in her head, her faithful bodyguards whom she had known for well over a century. Lyle. Eric. Forgive me. You served your Ministry well. I just wish your Minister was worthy of your sacrifice.

Her men’s sacrifice was not completely in vain as their bodies’ seemed to slow the killing lights, but not stop them. As the energy arcs went straight through the two men’s bodies and continued towards her, she was grabbed and pulled out of danger by orange-glowing vines, which deposited her next to Varnus. The man with the angry mask, who had been standing motionless after his immense attack, suddenly seemed to recover and sent another wave of white energy slicing through the air. Varnus, occupied with keeping Saria safe, barely had time to create another wall of flame vines to catch the next light attack. In an instant, Saria saw the wall he erected was not going to hold as white light shone through the flame vines from the other side. Putting on one last burst of speed, Saria tackled Varnus out of the way, but not quite fast enough. When he came to his feet, he was panting from exhaustion. Blood leaked from a bloody stump where his hand used to be. The left side of his armor was completely exposed, revealing burnt flesh. He was even missing a leg at the knee and had to lean against Saria for support to remain upright. Though the attack originated from a beam of energy, his wounds almost seemed to have been made from a blade.