Chapter Seventeen
It had been a long time since I’d died in combat of any kind, and I gasped oxygen greedily into my lungs as the chime rang in my ears. It was morning once more, and I laid in bed beside Evangeline and Caelia. Everything was right in the world, and I had another chance to seize victory before the sunset that night.
Still, I wasn’t exactly on a winning streak just yet.
The God of the Purge somehow managed to take control of my mind and body. I’d assumed a god wouldn’t hold sway over another god, but I wouldn’t make the same mistakes twice.
I was the God of Time, and there was only room for one immortal in this magical fantasy world I’d been thrust into.
I needed to reach the talisman before him.
Once I’d made my decision, I carefully peeled myself from the sheets without waking up my women since I didn’t want them to know I was going after the God of the Purge alone. With the asshole being able to use mind-control magic, there was no way I was letting anyone I cared about within range of him.
Especially not when they could be carrying my unborn children in their wombs.
The same went for Sarosh, but I’d yet to run into her because I still hadn’t gone to the Grand Occulta Athenaeum to see the High Priest.
The sun had only been up for a short while, and there was plenty of time to get the advantage, so I quickly splashed myself clean in cool water, got dressed, and strapped my weapons to my waist. I grabbed my pack, since I knew everything I needed was already prepared inside, and I slung it over my back. The familiar weight was comforting, and the tension fled my shoulders. Then I crept down the stairs and out the inn without stopping to get the summons from the High Priest.
The streets were deserted, but it was more ominous now than it had been when we first arrived. There was no telling how many people had already given their lives to the God of the Purge’s quest for power, so I hurried my steps toward the docks.
A few moments later, I was pushing the small boat away from the shore, and I pointed the prow in the direction of Za Isle. I didn’t need Sarosh’s help in locating the island this time, but as I drew closer to the spot where the sea creature attacked, I kept a firm hand on the handle of my panabas.
“I’m ready for you, shithead,” I muttered to myself as my eyes scanned the waves for any signs of disturbance.
It seemed like hours passed without any sign of the great beast swimming in the ocean, but then I saw the ripple out the corner of my eye, and excitement bloomed in my stomach. These must be the creature’s hunting grounds, and I wondered how many boats had succumbed to the beast’s attacks.
I waited patiently while the massive fish bumped the boat beneath my feet, and I swayed slightly to keep my balance as the vessel balanced again. My heart hammered against my ribcage, but I made no movements. My dual panabas were free from their straps, and I rubbed my fingers against the wooden textures of the handles to soothe myself.
Finally, the giant shark-like fish returned to launch from the water at my head.
I was ready, and I met his advance with a twirl of my blades, which drove the creature to the floor of my small boat. The wood creaked beneath the weight of the beast, and water splashed wantonly across the sides.
I’d be capsized if I wasn’t careful.
“Looks like I could feed an army tonight,” I observed as I sliced up the body of the sea creature while it thrashed out a final rebellion.
The fish eggs spilled across the boat’s wooden planks, and I wondered if they were indeed as good as caviar. I bent down to scoop some into my fist, and I tasted it gingerly before I realized I’d never eaten caviar before, so I had no way of knowing if it was good or not. The fish eggs tasted of salt and ocean water, but it wasn’t unpleasant, so I shrugged and decided to leave them on the boat.
I reached the Za Isle a short while later, and I was encouraged by the lack of boats tied to the shore. The white sandy beaches were unmarked by the passing of feet, and the jungle was quiet.
I’d gotten there first.
My feet were swift as I traversed the jungle to the other side of the island, and I ignored the hoots and howls of the monkeys as I trotted below their branches. I’d get a chance to act like a tourist once I had the protection talisman from the burial crypt.
Then I would be able to walk right up to the God of the Purge and take his head off for real.
I set my jaw at a determined angle, and I gritted my teeth as I burst from the undergrowth and into the clearing around the ruined remains of the burial chamber. The First High Priest Zyne was mostly a legend at this point in the Zaborial Isles, but it was still a shame to see someone once so revered treated with such callous neglect. I’d almost expected to see bald priests in blue robes guarding the entrance, but it was unobstructed as I crossed the clearing to the crumbling columns.
Ivy and other vines clung to every surface, and the doors hung at a haphazard angle with the rusted hinges hanging loose. Stairs carved out of the bedrock of the island led down to the broken doors, and they were cool to the touch even through my griffon feather boots.
I stood on the bottom step while I removed my pack from my shoulders, and I pulled out a torch. With a murmur of the word of power, I had a flame burning brightly, and I turned to the doors with a frown of concentration. The wood was half-rotted, and the rusted hinges looked like they were nearly dust anyway, so I pulled back and sent a heavy kick right at the center.
The doors imploded in a cloud of dust and debris, and the gust of wind nearly blew the flame from my torch, but I guarded it with my hand. The fire ceased its sputtering, and once I was satisfied it wouldn’t extinguish, I dipped inside the dark burial crypt.
I heard a strange clicking sound as soon as I removed my foot from the final step to the outside, and then fire burned in my face as it seared my eyebrows to nothing and melted my flesh.
Well, I’d expected boobytraps, just not directly inside the door.
Chime.
I slid out of bed, bathed, dressed, and snuck out of the inn. Then I crossed the waters to Za Isle and killed the giant fish along the way, but this time, I pulled my boat out of view before I crossed the island to the burial chambers.
Once the crypt was in sight, I made a new save point since I didn’t want to have to sail all the way here all over again every time I triggered a trap. The familiar tingling sensation washed over me as I fished my torch out of my pack, and then I peered around at the steps leading down to the doors. I had a feeling one of the stone stairs held the trigger, and sure enough, I spotted it on the last step. I avoided the rock plate easily, and then I kicked in the rotted wooden door.
This time, I wasn’t greeted by a burst of flames, so I breathed a sigh of relief before I peered around into the darkness.
Directly in front of me was a dried-up water fountain, with multiple levels of carved stone that would have allowed the liquid to drip in intricate patterns. A symbol resembling a glowing oval was carved at the very top as well as some runes I didn’t understand. I observed them closely all the same, and I locked them away in my memory to analyze later.
The first room was shaped like a rectangle, with the fountain at the front of a long two-sided altar. Alcoves along the walls had benches and bookshelves tucked away inside them, and the ground was made of moss-covered stones.
It must have been painstaking to build, and I marveled at the elaborately-carved murals in the clay walls. At the far end of the room was another door, but this one hung open, and even more stairs led further down beneath the island’s surface.
I wondered briefly how far it went, but there was no turning back now, and I wouldn’t even if I could. The God of the Purge was going down, even if I had to spam a thousand respawns getting past the boobytrapped crypt.
The next trap was a pit filled with sharpened metal spears at the bottom of the second flight of stairs, but I managed to hop nimbly across without issue. I was in a long corridor that stank of mildew and death, but the murals continued along both walls. They depicted grand battles being led by the First High Priest, and I grazed my fingers across the chipped paint.
It was ancient, and beautiful.
The Zaborians had a rich history, and the more I learned about them, the more questions I seemed to have. A part of me had hoped it would take a while to uncover the secrets I searched for, so Caelia, Eva, and I could have some time to explore the land of the island dwellers, but it was better this way. Once my quest to defeat the mind-controlling asshole was completed, we could spend weeks lounging on the crystal-white beaches if we wanted to. The image of my two beauties in their bikinis flashed through my mind, and my steps hurried of their own volition.
There were no side chambers or junctions in the long stone hallway, and it led directly to another set of doors, but behind them were even more stairs. The pressure of the air changed, and the temperature dropped even more, but the sound of trickling water pulled me forward.
The doors at the bottom of the stairs were easy enough to shove open with a well-placed shoulder, but the wood creaked beneath the pressure of my body. Everything in here was crumbling to ruins, and I shook my head at the state of disrepair the crypt was in.
“Anyone in here?” I called without expecting an answer, and I listened to my voice echo back to me for a moment.
The moment I stepped through the portal, a giant spiked ball swung from a hidden alcove on the ceiling, and the points slammed into my chest. The air was expelled from my lungs, and I flew backward as I heard my ribs crack. Pain burst through my chest, and I gasped for air as I struck the ground with a hard thud.
Chime.
This time, I bypassed the trigger for the first trap, kicked in the doors, and lit my torch before marching into the burial crypt of the First High Priest. I ignored the murals and the fountain, trotted down the stairs, and hopped across the pit trap. I was at the next set of doors a moment later, and I analyzed the entrance in search of the trip for the next trap.
I found the pull-lock for the trip wire just inside the door, and I activated it with the tip of my panabas while simultaneously jumping backward. The huge spiked ball swung harmlessly through the air in front of me, but I had to stay back and watch it slowly lose momentum for several moments.
When the way was finally clear, I crossed the threshold into the next room and peered around with curiosity. Alcoves lined the walls with the sarcophagi of men standing in upright positions laid within. Their faces were solemn, but proud, and I could still see the turquoise color of the paint chipping off their carved robes.
A part of me wanted to open one in search of loot, but there would be plenty of time for that later. As it was, the God of the Purge and his horde of brainwashed followers could show up at any minute to begin rushing the burial crypt.
I had to get to the talisman before them.
The tiles of the floor turned out to be a death trap, though, and it took me precious time to figure out which ones were safe to step on. If I put a foot out of place, poisoned darts shot from small holes in the walls between the remains of the priests.
“Take your time, Bash,” I said to myself in an effort to calm my racing heart. “You can always reset back to your save point.”
I stepped forward and caught a dart on the shoulder immediately after, and my vision began to blur almost immediately, so I knew I’d been poisoned.
Chime.
Bypass step, kick in the door, light the torch.
I’d done the same movements so many times by this point that it only took me a few moments to reach the room with the Floor of Death. I decided to make a new save point once I reached the space, and I tucked my torch into a notch in the wall as I turned to gaze at the stone tiles.
There were carvings on the rocks, and a bit of a pattern began to emerge the longer I looked at it. It reminded me of hopscotch, and I took a deep breath as I attempted to cross once more.
I gingerly stepped on the first tile I wasn’t sure about, and sure enough, dust emerged from the cracks as it lowered ever so slightly. I fell to the ground just as the poisoned needles shot from the holes in the wall, but once I was on the floor, I realized I might be able to crawl across to the other side and avoid all the darts.
I was halfway across the span of the room when I pressed against another trigger plate, but this time the darts sprayed from holes in the floor, and I caught them all straight in the face.
It felt like, well, like a thousand poisoned needles.
Chime.
I considered my options as I approached the place I’d died during the last run through, and I eyed the floor closely in search of the triggers. I could use my griffon feather boots’ fleetness ability to dart across the open area, but I didn’t want to waste the durability unnecessarily since I wasn’t sure if there were any enchanters’ workshops in the Zaborial Isles.
Plus, it would be super cool to master the Floor of Death by my own merits, and I felt like Indiana Jones in The Last Crusade as I readied myself for my next try.
I lost count of how many attempts I went through as I mastered the Floor of Death, and I nearly collapsed with relief when I finally reached the other side. I only took a moment to catch my breath before I headed down another flight of stairs, but then I heard voices screaming in pain from behind me.
The God of the Purge and his followers had arrived, and he’d already started to sacrifice them to the deadly traps within the crypt.
Part of me wanted to rush backward to help the brainwashed people powerless to stop themselves, but the best way to help them was to keep moving forward to the protection talisman. I wouldn’t be able to help anyone if I got within range of the God of the Purge without it.
The stairs curled around so the corridor went directly beneath the level above it, and water droplets dripped from the ceiling. The sound echoed through the hallway, but there were no signs of where the water was coming from yet.
The corridor itself was undecorated, and the walls looked like rough stone. Perhaps the entire burial crypt was built into the entrance of a cave, and I peered around with ever growing curiosity. The ground became more uneven, and I passed by several unlit beacons. The air tasted ancient, and it seemed blasphemous for me to be present on these sacred grounds, but I continued onward.
My quest was holy in intent, so I didn’t fear those buried here. Besides, I could handle anything a crypt could throw at me. I was the God of Time, and soon I would be the one and only immortal in these lands. Nothing would please me more than ridding the world of the God of the Purge’s terrible rule once and for all, and I lifted my chin with determination.
“Just wait, asshole,” I murmured into the dark shadows of the crypt. “I’m coming for you.”
The words spoken by the man in the black cloak echoed through my mind, and I realized the poser god knew my name already, but I didn’t know that much about him.
All I knew was he needed to die in order to save countless lives.
The ground sloped downward, and I entered an underground grotto. Then my feet followed the rocky path around the edge of a pool fed by a waterfall on the far side. The water swirled into a vortex at the center of the pond, and the liquid seemed to disappear within the void. Ahead of me was a terraced platform, and a moment later, I’d reached the uppermost level.
I scanned the area for any signs of the talisman. On the far wall was a stone mosaic with runes printed all around, but situated before this masterpiece sat a sarcophagus carved from a large ocean-blue stone. The lid was nearly half a foot thick, and the surface reflected my torchlight like a gemstone necklace glittering in candlelight. I moved first to the wall, and I ran my hand over the peeling lacquer as I gazed at the images.
The design was circular, and lines created a wagon-wheel pattern. Between these segments were depictions of various water-themed events, but as I looked closer, I realized they were spells. One summoned humongous tentacles of water shown hurling a beast back into the sea while another looked like a tidal wave sweeping across a forest floor. The runes along the outer edge lined up perfectly with the pictures, and I wondered if they were the words of power.
It was quite the epitaph for the First High Priest, and I let out a low breath as I appreciated the sheer beauty of the art. Then I removed parchment and quill from my pack, and I carefully copied all the runes with a brief description of the adjoining image beside it. When my work was completed, I blew gently across the ink to dry it, and I put everything to the side except the weapons strapped to my waist before I crossed to the sarcophagus.
The talisman had to be inside.
I heaved my body weight against the lid, and for a moment, nothing happened, so I increased the pressure with a loud groan, but it was to no avail.
“Move, motherfucker!” I grunted as I caught my breath, but then I set my shoulder against the lid and tried again.
I must have loosened it or something, because a grinding sound of rock sliding against rock screeched in my ears, and the next thing I knew, a cloud of dust erupted in my face. I’d managed to get a crack, but that was all I needed to get some leverage, so I looked around for something to use as a lever.
My torch ended up being the best thing I could find, so I stuck the handle into the hole, but I was careful to keep my hands and face away from the flames. With a wrench, I used the wooden stick to pry the lid the rest of the way open until it fell to the ground with a loud crash. Plumes of dust rose from the crypt floor, and I coughed the particles from my lungs before I peered inside the sarcophagus.
My eyes bulged when I saw the giant ice cube surrounding the remains of Zyne. The body of High Priest Zyne was better preserved than I’d expected since flesh and hair still clung to him, but he was protected by what was obviously ice magic, so I shouldn’t be surprised.
Then I saw it.
It was difficult to make out much details with the ice refracting the light and obscuring the view, but positioned around the High Priest’s neck was a golden-chained pendant shaped like an eye.
It had to be the talisman, but how was I supposed to get to it? I’d have to melt the ice, so I cracked my knuckles and then rubbed my palms together. Being around the giant chunk of ice had chilled my fingers, and I needed them to be dexterous to perform the spell. When my digits had limbered, I extended the flats of my hands toward the High Priest’s frozen remains.
“Fur,” I murmured with all the determination I had.
The flames burst into life in my hands, and while the spell didn’t burn my flesh, the residual heat warmed my fingers even more. I pressed my palms against the block of ice, and I started at the High Priest’s head. Then I worked my way down as long droplets of water poured off the sides of the cube.
It took me a while, and sweat began to dapple my forehead long before I was done, but I managed to free the pendant from the ice. Then I extinguished my flame spell, pulled my dagger, and used the tip to chip away at the remaining bits of ice until I was able to pull the chain from the High Priest’s neck.
The metal was cold to the touch after spending so long in ice, but I turned it over in my hands, and I scanned it over for confirmation that it was what I needed. It looked like an eye carved out of solid gold, but there was an x mark through the pupil. On the back, the outer edge of the pendant was covered with runes, but they were unlike any I’d ever seen before, so I had no idea of knowing if it was the talisman I sought.
There was only one way to find out.
I slipped the golden chain around my neck, and the weight of the pendant felt comforting against my chest. Tingles ran away from my shoulders to my extremities, and a flash of light burst behind my eyes. It was all over before I could even process what was happening to me, but I felt a sense of security I couldn’t explain.
I decided against making a new save point, since I wasn’t sure if any of the zealots had already died during this run through or not, and I wanted to ensure everyone survived.
But I was ready to face the God of the Purge.
My jaw clenched as I glanced around the room to see if there was anything else of value, but there were only the natural surroundings of the underground pool. Vegetation sprouted along its edge, and the liquid’s surface glittered in the torchlight. Sometimes in video games, there were chests or loot hidden beneath bodies of water just like this, so I made sure to investigate thoroughly before I left the cave grotto.
I didn’t find anything, so I hiked my pack higher onto my back and made my way back through the damp tunnel. The talisman swished back and forth across my chest, and my heart hammered against my ribcage behind it.
This was it. A face down between two immortals with only one possible path to victory.
It was kill or be killed.
I’d been waiting for this moment ever since I first met Sarosh back in Ivywood, long before I’d even defeated Smiguel the fire-breathing crimson dragon, and I could almost taste my upcoming win. It was one thing to use false titles to gain people’s attention and amass a following, it was another thing altogether to force those people into suicide. I had no idea how many people had already died because of this fanatical douchebag, but I would be damned if I let him kill anyone else.
My thoughts continued to darken as I made my way back to the surface, but the screams of agony in the tunnels above me halted my feet and sent my gaze to the ceiling. Dirt crumbled down as a giant thud shook the very bedrock, and I wondered which trap had triggered such a reaction. I needed to help them, but they were also being mind-controlled by the wannabe dictator, so I expected to have a hell of a time trying to save their lives.
I continued onward with trepidation growing in my gut, and I came to my first corpse soon after. It was a bald priest in turquoise robes, and his blue-tinted skin was cold in the torchlight. A poisoned needle jutted from the back of his neck, which heralded the source of his demise.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured to the dead man, and I considered resetting back to my save point to try and save him but decided against it. “Next time.”
Better to get to the God of the Purge as quickly as I could.
Without another thought, I stomped my foot to activate the fleetness ability of my griffon feather boots, and I scurried up the steps to the next level at a fast speed. The steps blurred beneath my feet, and I skidded to a halt at the top.
The Floor of Death was littered with bodies, and they continued to pour into the room in droves. The absent-minded gleam in their eyes as they plunged headlong into their deaths would have made their hypnotized state obvious if I hadn’t already known.
“Stop!” I shouted, but I knew it was pointless. They could no more hear me than stop themselves.
I stomped my foot to activate my boots with a growl of rage, but then I charged headfirst into a zombified priest who’d nearly made it halfway across the room. The two of us flew across the room faster than the darts could spray, but the pings of their flight echoed behind me. I was merely encouraged to pump my legs even faster, but I still attempted to step on as many safe plates as possible to lessen the likelihood of triggering the projectiles.
I slammed into the flow of bodies attempting to press into the room, and I drove them back from the entrance to the Floor of Death. I was immediately pressed back with nowhere to go but toward the death trap waiting behind me, and I cursed the holdup preventing me from murdering the son of a bitch who sent these innocent people to their deaths.
I suddenly realized I couldn’t save them all.
Not in this run through, anyway.
Whoever this motherfucker was, he was going to pay for every single life lost with his own blood.
I clenched my jaw, elbowed a crazed zealot in the chest, kicked the feet out from under another, and hopped over their prone bodies into the hole they’d created. I had to jab, thrust, and kick through what felt like an endless flood of hypnotized people, and when my arms and legs began to ache from the constant nonlethal fighting in close quarters, I pulled out some of my other tricks.
“Chs!” I gasped as I aimed at the feet of the zealots all around me.
They groaned and struggled against the weight around their limbs, but I’d quickly built up enough ice to hold them in place. Ahead of the frozen zealots, the ones in the lead were crying out in pain as they reached the Floor of Death, and I let out a sigh.
Next time, I’d freeze the door so none could pass through. I could probably even get to the talisman faster and return to the Floor of Death before any of the victims lost their lives to the poison darts.
But first, I still wanted to see all the life leave the eyes of the God of the Purge before I reset, just so I knew it could be done. Then I’d hammer out the finer details to ensure one-hundred percent completion.
I made the guttural noise used to summon my vine friend, and I was amazed at how sinewy and strong the four-foot-tall plant had become. More and more of the vines burst from the floor to snag onto the zealots, and my vegetation companions gripped tightly to ankles, wrists, and clothes to prevent the mind-controlled zombies from moving down the tunnel.
I slid between the prone bodies down the corridor and toward the stairs, but even though they were all stuck, every single one continued to struggle against their restraints. Already, my breaths came in ragged gasps, and my fingers tingled from using so much magical force. The spells were certainly much easier in one-on-one combat situations than against a determined horde of zombified Zaborians.
The stairs were also clogged with priests and servant-class islanders who neither saw nor heard me as I attempted to get their attention. I turned and began to seal off the stairwell entrance with ice magic, but I had to mutter the word of power multiple times before it managed to halt the progress of the zealots.
My fingers began to ache, and I cracked my knuckles before my fists hovered over my panabas. I wasn’t going to use nonlethal methods against the God of the Purge, and adrenaline coursed through my veins as I fantasized about jamming my blade into his heart.
“Fur,” I murmured softly to warm my fingers, and I held the flame between both hands for a moment.
The hypnotized people around me didn’t seem to notice the sudden burst of flame, but it was extinguished a moment later, and I shoved bodily past them up the stairs. It was difficult to maneuver around some of the bigger zealots, and I tried to shove everyone backward up the steps, but they continued to press on into me.
Claustrophobia grew stronger as I was squeezed between the two groups of bodies, but the zombified Zaborians at my back were focused entirely on marching into the ice wall over and over again while the ones at my front were obsessed with getting down the stairs. The stench of sweat and piss radiated from all of them, but I could only guess at how they’d been treated ever since they’d lost control of their own minds. Still, my stomach turned, and I swallowed hard.
I was stuck.
There had to be a hundred people in the crypt already, and I could hear the cries of pain from above my head even then. There were probably still more marching to their deaths at the command of the god, and I had to take deep breaths to calm my impatience. I needed to think of a way out of the horde, but I needed air to get to my brain first, so I reset back to my save point.
Chime.
I dashed through the maze-like corridors of the crypt faster than ever before, and I didn’t stop until I reached the underground grotto. This time, I was fast enough to reach the cave-like chamber before I heard any zealots enter the boobytrapped levels.
Once I stood before the sarcophagus with the talisman hung around my neck, I was much more confident about my ability to get past the zealots. I just had to seal up all the doors on my way out, so I couldn’t take the time to copy the runes for the words of power I’d seen on the walls. It would just have to wait until after I’d killed the God of the Purge.
I still hadn’t heard any sounds from the crypt above yet, so I considered that a good sign, and I made a new save point to keep it that way. Then I stomped my foot to activate the fleetness ability of my griffon feather boots, and I zoomed back toward the stairs.
When I reached the top of the staircase, I turned and began to ice over the door.
“Chs!” I practically shouted as I sucked in my breath with deep gasps.
A few moments later, I had enough of a barrier to halt those who made it this far, but I wasn’t going to stop with that. I still had the Floor of Death to contend with, so I stomped my foot again.
My feet were a blur of motion as I zipped across the pattern to the other side, and I didn’t stop until I was safely in the tunnel beyond. The poison darts were fast, but I was faster. Then I erected another wall of ice in the portal, which sealed the Floor of Death off from both directions.
Before I made it all the way up the next staircase, however, I heard voices ahead crying out in pain as they triggered the massive spiked ball. I could hear the creak of its chains, and I winced when the screams subsided.
Almost fast enough.
Maybe if I got there quickly I could prevent any more lives from being lost, so I hurried my pace up the steps. I stopped to begin sealing off the door, but the zealots slammed into me from behind as they groaned unintelligibly. I spun around and used my elemental magic to hold these people in place, but it was the very front wave of zombified Zaborians, so it was easy enough to immobilize them.
The hypnotized people crashed into each other at the door, which jammed the portal and blocked the way, so I gritted my teeth and ran into them shoulder first. Once the front lines slammed into the others behind them, I swiveled again and quickly began my ice spells, but I’d barely erected two feet of wall before the zealots recovered.
I worked as fast as I could, but a few of the fools tripped over the low wall into the room beyond. I wasn’t about to let anyone get trapped inside, though, so I paused my spellwork to haul them back over the barrier. I had to pause a few more times to bodily grab them and shove them back, but eventually, I had a waist-high wall. The zombie-priests bumped into the wall, staggered back, and then did it all over again.
They were entirely mindless, that was for sure.
I shook my head in awe before I turned toward the entrance of the crypt. I could just barely see down the tunnel around the bodies flowing into the space, and I worked the muscle in my jaw as I pushed through them.
I was getting closer, at least.
My victory was almost at hand, and I licked my lips as I eyed the opening of the crypt. Light streamed in through the doors I’d kicked in, but it fluttered with each passing body flooding into the entrance.
Then I heard his voice.
“Onward!” the God of the Purge chanted to his followers. “This is the path to righteousness! Your souls will be guaranteed a safe harbor in the realm of the beyond with this noble sacrifice!”
I was so close I could taste it.
With a flick of my wrists, my panabas were freed, and I slid the handles through my hands until my reach had extended by four feet. I trotted up the steps of the crypt with a murderous gleam in my eyes, and I caught sight of the black-cloaked figure immediately.
Even from a distance, he spotted me easily. I was probably easy to see among the blue-robed priests he was sending into the crypt in swarms, but that merely worked in my favor. I wanted to test the strength of the talisman’s mind protection as soon as possible since I had no other way of knowing if it was the right one.
I stared down the God of the Purge, but my footsteps grew calm as I approached with a single-minded focus. My willpower was my own, and my mind was still as all other thoughts besides my opponent’s death fled.
“S-Sebastian?” the older man’s voice croaked, and there was something familiar about his accent, but I couldn’t quite place it.
I stomped my foot to activate the fleetness ability of my griffon feather boots, and I charged forward at a dead run as my panabas created two tornados of death on either side of me.
“You ready to die, motherfucker?” I roared as I drove both my blades beneath his cloak and into his ribcage.
The wet slosh of blood coated my hands almost instantly, and his hood was thrown back from the motion. The God of the Purge had short-clipped straw-colored hair and crystal-blue eyes, but the orbs bulged from their sockets as blood gurgled from his lips.
I’d won.
The God of the Purge gasped unintelligibly, but the motion sprayed blood into my face.
My blood ran cold as I stared at him, but then the God of the Purge’s dead body slid from my blades to collapse into the dirt.
He was dead.
The God of Death had struck again, but I wasn’t completely satisfied with the results. Too many had lost their lives already, and I wanted everyone to survive my encounter with the God of the Purge. I’d proven the value of the talisman, though, and I knew the asshole could die, so this would be my final run through.
Chime.
I stood before High Priest Zyne’s sarcophagus, and I’d just placed the talisman around my neck, but I took a quick moment to think about my strategy.
I wanted to save all the Zaborians from the suicidal fate the God of the Purge had condemned them to, but in order to do that, I needed to get back through the crypt to the front door before any of them arrived.
My decision settled, I stomped my foot to activate the fleetness ability of my griffon feather boots, and then I dashed out of the underground grotto and up the stairs. I didn’t pause as I passed the Floor of Death, and I jumped nimbly over the trigger for the massive spiked ball before I vaulted across the pit full of spikes.
By the time I made it to the front door, I could see a flood of blue-robed priests pouring out of the tree line through the kicked-in doors, so I had no time to waste. I began to create the ice wall, but this one was on the front door, and I’d only have to make one. The zombified zealots wouldn’t even be able to enter the burial crypt, so no one would lose their lives on the traps inside.
Once the way was sealed, I turned and trotted up the steps to the clearing just as the black-cloaked figure arrived.
“Hey, dude, what’s up?” I asked in a casual tone, but I brushed my hand against the talisman to draw strength and reassurance from the heavy metal pressing against my chest.
The God of the Purge stopped in his tracks, and every zealot surrounding him froze in place at the same time. His power was strong, but it wouldn’t work against me this time, so I kept my shoulders squared and my chin raised.
I had time to chit-chat, and I wanted to get some information out of the asshole responsible for so many suicides before he met his fate at the end of my panabas.
We stared at each other from across the clearing, and for a while, I didn’t think the God of the Purge was going to talk. I couldn’t see his face beneath the thick hood he had pulled down over his head, but I imagined his eyes widening when he tried to seize my mind as his own.
It wasn’t going to work.
The God of the Purge seemed to realize this as well, and the asshole began to back away into the tree line while the blue-robed zealots pressed toward me. I wasn’t going to fight my way through the innocent hypnotized people, so I stomped my foot again to activate the fleetness ability of my griffon feather boots.
I dashed between the zealots as they lunged at me, but I had to hop over some while I ducked beneath the arms of others. I blasted hands and feet with ice as I ran, and the horde of zealots thinned just enough for me to spot the departing black cloak before the God of the Purge disappeared into the forest.
I was on his tail in an instant, and I twirled my panabas in my fists as I approached him from behind. I didn’t even care if I had to stab him in the back, but I was hoping he would turn to face me before I killed him so I could watch the light in his eyes die.
A moment later, I was on the fluttering tail of his cloak, and I grabbed the black fabric as I hauled backward. The God of the Purge fell to the ground, but he quickly jumped to his feet and faced me. The hood of his cloak was thrown back, and his light-blue eyes glared at me with a look full of vehement rage.
“What’s the deal, man?” I asked as I arched one eyebrow. “Why are you trying to kill everyone?”
The God of the Purge spat at my feet, but he didn’t reply.
“Oh, well.” I grinned a devilish grin. “Time for you to die.”
I lunged forward with my panabas looking like twin tornados of death at my sides, and the God of the Purge’s eyes widened as fear registered in his gaze. I soaked in the expression on his face like a plant absorbing sunlight, and I was deadly calm as I crossed the distance to him.
Both of my blades buried to the hilt in his torso, and the tips of the panabas jutted from my enemy’s back. Then I wrenched them free and watched the God of the Purge fall to the ground as blood gurgled from between his lips.
He was once again dying, so I went ahead and made a new save point to lock in my final run through. Not a single Zaborian zombie had lost their lives, the crypt was sealed with ice, and the God of the Purge was dying at my feet.
I’d call that one-hundred percent completion.
I squatted down beside the God of the Purge, and I smiled sweetly as his eyes met mine.
“How is your blood tasting, you wannabe-Hitler-motherfucker?”
“F-F-Fuhrer Hitler?” The God of the Purge coughed, and blood sprayed from his mouth, but this time I saw it coming, so I leaned back out of range of the bloody spittle. “You… You are from Earth?”
The world seemed to freeze around me, and my heart skipped a beat.
“Wait, you know about Earth?” I gasped, and I nearly fell backward from the shock of his words.
I’d meant the Hitler line as a joke, but this only left me with more questions. Unfortunately, before I could ask any of them, the God of the Purge gasped out his final breath, and the life faded from his light-blue eyes.
I stood in shock over his corpse as I processed his words, but my last save point prevented me from resetting to a time before the asshole was mortally wounded. Still, his words rang in my ears repeatedly as I tried to make sense of them.
I wasn’t the only person from Earth in this medieval fantasy world.
End of Book 7