Chapter 29: Nothing but Ashes |
By the time Mack released it, the warhead – because that was what it resembled now – shot forward with a supersonic crack. The blazing tip cut the darkness like a lance of plasma. The air behind it screamed, a high, metallic wail as it blitzed toward the Vampire Lord. Cole braced, narrowing his eyes against the glare.
The strike was vicious. Light flared – bright enough to bleach the forest white – and the boom swallowed every sound. The barriers burst, flinging molten shrapnel in a tight cone, ripping into the bastard’s spot. Cole’s own barrier flared bright blue, cracking under the shockwaves as dust and flame roared past. It barely weathered it, holding just enough to shield them. Even Warren probably couldn’t match this – at least, not with the enhanced fireballs they used as standard.
When the light finally faded, Mack staggered back, smoke curling off his outstretched palms. Any illusions of restraint were gone, replaced with a fusion of modern design and raw magic power. It was basically a Tomahawk cruise missile dropped right on the money, all of its energy focused into one point rather than over a large radius.
Dust hung thick as the blast echo faded, settling over a crater where the trapped bastard K’hinnum once stood. Mack’s spell had lanced down hard, spearing the demon dead-on. The impact left a pit – deep enough to swallow a truck, edges fused into glassy slag where the dirt had melted. Wide as a couple guys laid end-to-end, the bottom was a black smear. There was nothing left of the demon. Nothing but ashes fine enough to sift through his fingers and tiny beads of slagged metal. Hell of a way to go, honestly – the spell’s plasma jet must’ve punched through like a hot knife, an explosive kick turning the rest to dust.
The damage fanned out tight behind and beneath the hit. Stumps stuck up a few steps back, trunks flash-burned to carbon facing the blast and roots popped loose like the ground got tired of holding them. Shrapnel had tagged the wood, molten earth chunks stuck in there. The cone of ruin stretched – wider at the top, shallower along the drop – before the downward slam buried the energy. Beyond that, trees stood, bark scratched from stray fragments but still upright.
No surprise it shredded that fancy armor. Whatever enchantments it may have had, there was almost nothing that could’ve taken a hit like that. Those metal flecks were all that exotic alloy had left to say, melted and spat out as the spell drilled down. Cole had seen HEAT shells do less; this was a step up. A plasma-enhanced thermobaric penetrator, if he had to identify it.
The glare faded, and Cole let his barrier drop, the light blue shimmer winking out. Fatigue slammed into him like a truck – knees wobbling, arms heavy, mana reserves scraping bottom. Every muscle screamed for a breather, but he shoved it down. No time to sit on it.
He secured and slapped on his Nods before bolting toward Elina’s last vector, Mack following right behind him. Screw the fatigue; if she was down, he’d drag her out himself.
His chest tightened, and not just from the run. His mind wouldn’t shut up about scenarios: what if she’d hit too hard? Tree trunk at speed could snap her neck; bad angle might’ve crushed her chest. He shook the thoughts. It was dumb to spiral like that. He forced himself to compartmentalize – he had to simply keep moving on and just sort the rest later.
Elina sat up. “Ah, my knight in… muddied armor,” she groaned. “Have you dispatched that fiend at last?”
“Yeah,” Cole said, scanning her injuries. “Well, Mack did.”
The Vampire Lord’s blade had tagged her good – her Slayer Elite armor had suffered a deep gash across the forearm, plating split like a tin can under a sledgehammer. That fancy gear didn’t do shit against a hit that hard; the edges curled outward, red blood crusting where it’d punched through to flesh.
One hand glowed over the slashed forearm, knitting it back together. Two vials lay spent beside her, green for healing, blue for mana, their corks scattered like afterthoughts. She’d stitched herself up fast.
“You alright?” Cole asked.
“Tolerably whole,” she replied, straining her voice slightly. “A gash and some bruising. I’ve staunched the worst, though I confess the pain is a rather persistent wretch.” She winced, but quickly hid it under a smile.
Cole exhaled. OTAC’s best healer wouldn’t be smiling if it were something truly serious. Still, they weren’t out of the woods just yet. He glanced at Mack, who had just arrived.
Mack didn’t need a word. He slid in, AFAK already out as he crouched down by Elina. “Gimme the rundown. Where’d you get hit?”
“Oh, wherever did it not? I’ve far too many indignities to catalogue, but the most pressing?” Elina shifted, grimacing as she cradled her slashed forearm. “My arm, here – a wretched gash, healing as we speak. I suffered cracked ribs and a twisted leg when the brute hurled me through the trees; I’ve mended those already. The rest of my aches, I’ve dulled them with a healing potion. Yet this arm lags, and standing is… a trial.”
Mack nodded. “Alright. Let’s check your work.” He pushed the edge of her brigandine’s collar aside, finding the space to check her pulse. “115. 110, dropping. Good. The magic must be smoothing it out. Okay, now – deep breath.”
The buckles of her brigandine were already loose – she must’ve unfastened them to diagnose and heal herself. Mack ran his hand through the opening. “No crepitus, no wobble – ribs are solid. Good work. Leg next.”
He tapped her knee, then slid down to the ankle, testing the range of motion. “Just stiff. Weight on it?”
“Ha, scarcely. It bears me yet, though – ugh, it dares protest,” she sighed. “I shall mend it anon, once this arm is set right, should the potion not suffice by then.”
Mack nodded. “Let’s see that gash.” He lifted her wrist, slow, until she flinched. “Clean job – cut’s closing fast. I ain’t got shit to do. Muscle’s still torn, though; flexor’s weak.”
After registering Elina’s nod, he summoned a small orb of light near her eyes. “Pupils match, but damn slow to shrink – concussion. Dizzy? Sick?”
“Not in the least,” she shot back, firm through the wince, before faltering. “Well… perhaps a trifle unsteady. Nothing more pressing than my vexation and being weary of this ordeal.”
“Another potion for good measure, then?” Mack suggested.
“Yes, that would be prudent.” Elina pulled a healing potion from the pouch attached to her belt and downed it.
Cole relaxed. She’d be good to go soon – maybe not perfect, but combat-capable. The mental scenarios that had been cycling through his head all faded into background static, replaced with literal static as his comms garbled to life.
“Mercer, you copy?”
That was Ethan’s voice. “Solid copy, Walker.”
“Fuckin’ A. I’m guessing that blast was you guys. That thing dead or what?”
Cole found himself chuckling. It only just now started to hit – the fact that they’d taken down a level 17 demon, a Vampire Lord. “Yeah, we smoked it. Well… Temporarily, at least. Mack’s handiwork – cooked up something new.”
“Temporarily?” Ethan asked.
Knowing how things worked in this world, the demon probably wasn’t giving some vengeful last words – ‘return’ had sounded like it had been used in the most literal sense.
“I’ll fill you in when you get here. Gonna have to confirm with Elina. Y’all done over there?”
“Yeah, en route to you now. ETA sixty seconds,” Ethan replied.
“Solid copy.”
The brush crashed a minute later – Miles half-dragging a limping Ethan, left arm hooked under Ethan while his own right shoulder dangled in the wind.
Mack turned his head toward the commotion. “Damn, the fuck happened to you guys?”
“Shoulder’s popped outta joint, Ethan’s legs took a helluva hit,” Miles said, raising two more earthen chairs before plopping down on one. “Found that third Nevskor – pulled up on us, clean ambush. Tough bastard, but we waxed ‘em – three Nevskors, all the goblins. Burned through our potions doin’ it, though.”
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Ethan nodded, wincing as he eased off his feet. “Tail slammed my shins. You’d think messing around with scooters as a kid would’ve trained me. Fuck, can’t even walk straight.”
Mack grunted, stepping to Miles first. “Hold tight, Walker.” He gripped Miles elbow, steadying the arm. “On three, yeah?”
Miles braced. “Yeah.”
“One.” He yanked hard, popping it back with a sharp crack.
“Fuckin’ hell, Mack!” Miles hissed.
“Oh, just drink your potions already.” Mack fished four vials from his pack – two green, two blue – tossing Miles a pair, then handing Ethan the other. He turned to Elina, mid-flexing her patched-up wrist. “You got any juice left?”
“I’ve a touch remaining. Should suffice with this,” Elina said, pulling a blue vial from her pouch and drinking. “Now, let us see these wounds righted.”
Cole scanned their surroundings as Elina approached Ethan.
She crouched over Ethan’s shins, looking up at him. “I’ve mana to dull the bite, should you wish it.”
“Also got a few Actiq pops left,” Mack offered. He reached into his pack and pulled one out, holding the scuffed orange stick up for Ethan to see. “One of ten. Beats her spell, but it ain’t like we can requisition these anymore. Your call.”
Ethan hesitated slightly, but he knew the choice he needed to make – even if it’d hurt like a bitch. “Fuck. Save ‘em both and just get it over with,” he said, nodding at Elina to give her the go-ahead.
“Very well.” Elina unfastened the greaves, popping the clasps and sliding the damaged legwear off. The skin underneath was a mess – deep purple bruising covered both shins, worse on the right where the bone had clearly fractured and pushed against muscle. “Mack, hold him fast.”
Mack worked the earth, molding rings that clamped Ethan’s legs to the seat – tight enough to lock him down, but not so hard it’d chew into the damage.
Elina held her hands over Ethan’s battered shins and let a green glow overtake them. The light seeped into his flesh, muscles twitching and color creeping back as the damage patched up.
Ethan gripped the seat hard, hissing through gritted teeth as the magic worked. Sweat beaded his forehead, but he held himself together – one fist pounding the earthen chair once, twice, then holding rock-still as he forced himself through it.
The process took thirty seconds, but the pain no doubt dilated it into an eternity. Cole had been there just minutes ago: flesh getting stitched up, every tug a reminder it wasn’t done yet. And to think, he’d gone through that without broken bones to deal with. He could only imagine how much worse this experience must’ve been for Ethan.
When Elina finally pulled her hands back, Ethan exhaled and sagged in his seat. “So,” he grunted, “the hell happened? How’d you smoke that Vampire Lord?”
Cole snorted. “You missed the highlight of the month. Would’ve blown your damn mind if you were there.”
“Yeah?” Miles’ eyebrows went up.
Cole nodded. “Mhm. Turned out the bastard could flash-step, like in those animes; busted our asses trying to get him weak enough to trap him.” He jerked his chin at Mack. “Tell ‘em.”
Mack shrugged, playing it off. “Mercer here pinned it first – hit it with a jacked-up flashbang spell and locked it in with a crazy earth trick. Gave me the shot.” Then the grin broke wide, humility torched. “Upgraded my fireball into a… shit, I think it’s a plasmaball now.”
Elina stood, her smile sparked by the explanation alone. “Plasma ball? Why, what a wonder that must be. Is it some sort of radiant flame?”
“Yeah, second that. The hell’s that s’posed to mean? Plasma as in… that high-temp sci-fi shit them aliens usually got?”
Mack chuckled, leaning back on his heels. “Damn near. Same modernized fireball we’ve been tweaking, just with maxed out oxidation – complete combustion, blue flame. Hits like a shaped charge, or maybe a thermobaric penetrator, just with plasma. Packed enough juice to slag the Vampire Lord – bastard shoulda been dead for good, really. Except that prick didn’t talk like it – yapped about returning.”
Ethan moved his legs, testing them. “Yeah, Mercer mentioned that over comms. Killed it temporarily, or some shit. Like what, don’t tell me it can resurrect?”
“Yes, unfortunately,” Elina sighed. “The Kingdom knows not the full craft of it. Demons may revive their own – important lieutenants, Vampire Lords such as this most oft, and lesser beasts when it suits. Though, we reason it is a costly process; time ever passes before they rise again.”
“Left us a name, too: K’hinnum,” Cole added.
“Huh, so it has a name,” Ethan said.
Cole scanned the forest once more, then glanced back at Ethan. “Yeah. We’ll continue on the way out. Your legs good enough?”
“Yeah.” Ethan hauled himself up, testing his weight before shaking out his shins with a wince. “Runes from ingress are that way – trail’s already set.”
Cole reached out with his mana, feeling the faint magical signatures spreading out through the forest. There they were – Ethan’s markers glowing like distant beacons to anyone tuned to the right frequency. They’d eliminated all the hostiles present, but there was no telling if reinforcements were inbound. The sooner they got back to Malcord and Nolaren, the better. “Alright, I’ll take point. Let’s extract.”
Elina continued her explanation as they walked, “We have, through considerable study of historical patterns, come to theorize that the Demon Lord himself may require several decades merely to reconstitute his form. And perhaps more decades time thereafter to rebuild his armies, hence the century that oft passes between each incursion.”
Logically, that should favor humanity – as long as the demons never adapted and humanity continued advancing in technology. But mankind hadn’t reached that threshold yet, and the demons had proved themselves an intelligent threat, especially with that ambush when they had first arrived.
“So, you haven’t yet found a way to put the demons down for good?” Mack asked.
“If only it were so easy.” Elina shook her head. “Our doctrine, therefore, has since been to set loose our mightiest Heroes upon them. Sheer force drives the fiends deep into the Istraynian Wastes – till some foul field turns our champions back.”
‘Foul field’ aside, that wasn’t exactly inspiring news. So they’d basically just kicked the can down the road for… centuries? Buying time but never solving the problem? Reminded him of every half-assed counterinsurgency he’d ever seen.
“So the big shots are basically immortal? The ones they bother bringing back, anyway?” Ethan asked, on the same line of thought.
“Aye, save a single caveat,” Elina said, sidestepping a root. “The Church’s holy magic purges them. No return.”
“Huh,” Ethan replied. “How does that work?”
“Holy magic – our invocations – it is that which purges a demon’s root, its hold and being, clean from this world. Through pleas we call upon that intercession which first brought us our Heroes. So I hold, as any Redeemist might, for we profess that any true heart lifted in faith may wield it – just as any soul might receive salvation.”
“Anyone, huh?” The excitement bled through Mack’s voice. “Not just locked to your Church mages? I’ve got mana – could I pull that off?”
Elina hesitated in her response – just a tad. “Well, theoretically. The Lord heeds any soul that calls in earnest – be it yours or another’s, no priestly seal required. Yet rare it is, and none can truly fathom why. It may be the depth of one’s faith, or the strength of mana, or some other condition, but the truth stays a riddle we’ve not pierced. Indeed, King Alexander himself – God rest his soul – purged an archdemon with it, centuries past.”
“An archdemon?” Miles wondered. “That’s a helluva kill. If that’s the case, then why ain’t this standard issue?”
“No bar but the rarity,” Elina said, a faint shrug hinting at her own frustration. “If we’d had a dozen King Alexanders, we might have vanquished the demons centuries ago.”
The foliage started to thin out just as they passed by the eighth rune. “Edge of the forest,” Cole announced. He broke the treeline first, scanning the clearing beyond.
Malcord’s troops swarmed it, hauling stretchers from Kidry’s perimeter. Limp bodies strapped down – some twitching, others still as corpses – lay in rough rows, tended to by what few medics they’d brought from Nolaren.
“Shit…” Mack said, pausing. “What happened?”
“Guessin’ shit turned ugly while we were busy. C’mon.” Cole led them toward the center of the commotion, where Malcord directed his men.
Malcord spotted them and broke off, leaving things to his men. He stepped forward, voice low, as if he’d been shouting for too long. “Sir Heroes! Lady Elina! Right glad am I to see you hale. I presume you haven’t been… possessed?”
Cole stopped at the end of the stretcher line. “No – thank God, no. We wiped the forest clean. The goblin company, three Nevskors, and a Vampire Lord – called himself K’hinnum. If I had to guess, we probably killed the bastard before it had any time to possess us. What’s your sitrep – uh, the situation here?”
Malcord’s brow creased at ‘sitrep’, but the correction landed. “The conflict ceased with remarkable suddenness, not long after a tremendous explosion from within the forest – yon thunderclap that lit the sky.” He jerked his chin toward the trees, right where they’d just came from.
Cole followed his gaze. “That tracks. That’s about the time we killed K’hinnum. But…”
He turned as a stretcher passed close – some poor bastard mumbling gibberish, eyes rolling wild, spit flecking his chin in a mess of syllables. Fingers twitched in unnatural jerks, like the nerves didn’t know they were free. Just past him, three others slumped against an earthen couch – one rocking back and forth, two sobbing hard. The only symptom they shared was a hollowness in their eyes, like whatever made them them had been scooped out and left behind.
“What happened to them?”
“It appears the demon’s possession has already extracted a grievous toll upon some of Kidry’s men. Their very essence…” He hesitated, jaw tightening. “I fear some part of them remains ensnared within whatever fell realm the creature has drawn them to. I fear… I fear that this K’hinnum’s hold has ravaged them beyond repair.”
Cole watched another stretcher pass. The soldier on it stared upward, not blinking, not seeing. He was breathing, yeah, but he could say the same about coma patients.
They’d charged in, thinking they were saving Kidry’s men. Instead, they’d broken them. Not that they’d had much choice – leaving K’hinnum alive would’ve been so much worse.
But Elina’s words about holy magic hit hard. If the solution to demons was divine intervention, then maybe the same applied to their victims. Modern tactics, firepower, and even this world’s magic hadn’t been enough. These men needed something beyond what known medicine or healing could provide.
Salvation, not just rescue. And right now, all Cole could do was pray for them.