B3 Chapter 340: Crucible Guardian, Finale

Drowning beneath the weight of something beyond him, Kaius stood rooted and shaking. The world slowed, his mind boiling as a symbol of impossibility demanded everything he had to give and more.

The sigil was all he could see, all he could smell and touch. It whispered to him, low and crooning — secrets of strength, promises of conviction. Titanic angles pulsed like a living thing, turning through themselves along planes that sliced at the very fabric off his mind. It was too large. Too much.

But he had no choice.

It had been a weighted gamble — an assumption of odds that gave them the best chance he could at victory. He’d avoided Muthryn, ignored Redoubt of the Speaker. Too costly, he’d thought.

Now only one thing might save him, and it tore at his very soul in recompense.

Revelation was upon him, and time seemed to freeze in deference. As if it was moving through treacle, Kaius watched the manticore whipping its tail towards Porkchop again — completely ignoring the arrows and rays that peppered its hide and spilled more of its lifeblood.

With the singular clarity of the mad, Kaius knew it was dying. With weeping grief, he knew that its death would be too slow. The fires burned too hot — the fueling mana within it kept the beast as deadly as it had been in their opening confrontation. It burned mana like a sieve, the holes in its flesh venting potency as fire.

Within his mind, he was thrust into the centre of a maelstrom — his vision fuzzing as living geometry wrapped every surface. It demanded release; demanded he bear its truth.

It was too much! An agonising burden that stretched his mind to the breaking. There was no fleeing, no capitulation. He had to fight! Demand it bend to his whims.

Kaius grit his teeth, narrowing his focus. Every scrap of energy in his body was a mess. Mana roiled, venting uncontrollably into flashes of light and noise. Stamina surged, his body tearing itself apart as his muscles rippled with uncontrollable strength. Health burned, knitting and reknitting his flesh as his wounds bubbled with ulcerous growths.

It was too much, too large — he couldn’t channel all of it. Not the full weight of its truth. Kaius yanked at the smallest, most basic, thread. A fraction of a fraction of a greater whole. Empower.

He forced the thread towards Drakthar and the glyph buckled — natural flows threatening to shatter at any moment.

It was all he could do to raise his hand, shaking like a leaf. Patched and dry, he opened his lips.

Whether by chance, or prescience, the manticore snapped its head towards him — its tail sailing over Porkchop’s prone body as its assault was forgotten. A single red eye shone with a fear that was written plainly on its monstrous face.

Drakthar started to collapse — burning light shining through his gauntlets. Kaius leveraged his Will, directing the raging scrap of meaning he had wrestled into submission to a singular spell.

He Spoke.

“VOS!”

Blood sprayed from his mouth as a tangled mix of energy tore at his throat with rabid fury. Drakthar shattered utterly — the bones of his hands crumbling as caustic arcane force mangled his hand into a broken lump. Yet all Kaius felt was relief as VOS left his mind, an unbearable weight retreating as his spell ignited.

A full longstride in length, a spike of twisted metal burst into existence with a cracking boom that rattled his brain. It shot forward — so fast Kaius stumbled back from the force of the wind.

Kaius slumped to the floor, barely able to lift his head as the final tendrils of something twisted and beyond him left him. It was enough that he witnessed its result.

Reacting immediately, the manticore let loose a dense gout of fire from its throat — a deluge that threatened to consume Kaius utterly. His nail shot through the middle, uncaring of the heat — but failing to disperse the desperate attack.

It washed over him in a torrent, and Kaius burned. His screams came loud and hot — a rejection of both madness and agony. Flesh boiled in the oven that was his armour, scales glowing cherry red as his gambeson turned to ash. His Health joined with Rapid Adaptation to fight against the tide, but it only left him mired in sloughing flesh and fresh pain as his nerves burned endlessly.

Yet when the storm passed, and Kaius raised his head and bore witness to destruction he wrought.

He froze in shock as his nail hit the manticore on its sternum. Blood and gore erupted in an explosion as his spell tore a tunnel a full stride wide through the length of its body. A twisted blur erupted from the back end of the beast, trailed by a cone of viscera as it raced into the distance.

Kaius saw through the Guardian as his distant Nail bloomed into a bramble-ball of spiked metal, slamming home into a distant hill as a plume of dust was sent skywards.

Even with his sanity stretched to breaking, his soul flickering, and his body exhausted and spent, Kaius gasped with relief. He’d done it — the Guardian was done. Nothing could survive having its chest cavity scooped out.

He smiled as the manticore’s remaining eye rolled back and its body slumped to the ground. His bloodsong satisfied and full, leaving only the sweet taste of victory in its wake.

Healing light washed over him — his spent health recovering. Rolling onto his side with a groan, Kaius saw his backline already careening down towards him at a dead sprint. More beams shot past, splashing over Porkchop in a constant wave. Kaius could feel him recovering, his brother’s mind shining clearer through their link with every moment.

Then the manticore twitched in the corner of his eye.

Whipping his head over, he saw life still smoulder within the beast — fire licking its wounds in a constant blaze.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Wait!” he roared to his team.

Mana roared within the Guardian — moving in whorls that spun tighter and faster. The fires grew bright — almost blinding — as they concentrated on its wounds and its wounds alone.

There was a flash.

A roiling orange ball burst into existence, hovering in the centre of its empty chest — a false heart, with embered veins threading through the cavity to anchor it.

He fought through his fugue. The wasting left in the wake of his Skill left him slow and weak — his mind foggy and confused. Every movement, every twitch sent lances of wrong shooting through his soul. Like it would burst at any moment. It didn’t matter — either he fought through it, or he died. The damage could be dealt with later, when he had time.

Kaius staggered to his feet and readied his blade — it wavered as tremors wracked his body. VOS had left its mark.

He watched in horror as the manticore twitched again, convulsing as it planted its paw in the alpine soil. Blood smoked as it pumped out of severed veins, ash drifting free in the breeze. It rose to its feet in silence — lacking the lungs to pant.

It was an undying abomination with a sun gleaming in its chest — a force that nailed it to the world, letting it cling to life and vengeance.

The manticore snapped its head up — looking at him with hate.

Kaius raised his blade into an aggressive high guard. He needed to buy Porkchop the seconds he required to rouse from his stupor. His backline would be fine — they wouldn’t approach such an obvious threat.