14
The Warden's Crypt (4)
SERAPHIS VERLICE
As The King continued its descent, more and more of its "shell" flaked away, all the way up until it had reached the floor.
By the time it had shed the entirety of its outer layer, all that was left was a creature reminiscent of the other shrouds, different only in minuscule details—in a way that was hard to explain.
It was more of a feeling than anything. Subtle changes that resisted a definitive observation.
It stood at roughly seven-to-eight feet tall with no other stand out features.
But as it took its final step from the dais, the creature suddenly came to a stop, body hanging limply.
The tension stretched every second thin, making it feel as if we had been here at a standstill for hours.
The sunken cavities didn't seem to linger on anything in particular,
Our bodies were all tensed, weapons at the ready, senses on high alert, as we waited—no one daring to even breathe. My heartbeat pounded wildly as I felt the slow crawl of a bead of sweat reach just beneath my brow.
I was too focused to even blink, despite the irritation in my eye.
…Fortunately or not, Evrenn wasn't the one to break the silence. Not this time.
Instead, there was a sound. A sound so rough and strained… so primal and hoarse—that I struggled to even refer to it as what it was.
It was a voice. The creature's voice.
"Nauaau. Khaara. Eleyuha… Kineel."
A wave of intense dread suddenly befell the chamber, everyone dropping to their knees simultaneously choking for air. An intense heat burned in my throat like an unsuppressable itch.
What… the hell…
I fought the urge to claw, to rip at it with all of my might, as the seconds endured, the heat building by the moment until it was almost all I could think about.
Its head rose, looking in our direction, but peering past us, seemingly fixated at the corpses surrounding the chamber, repeating wordless sounds.
As if it was forcing noise to come through its own larynx.
Like a child fiddling around for a toy in the dark, or a paraplegic searching for strength in their legs, The King… No, more accurately, The Warden, seemed to be reaching for a sensation it, too, had likely lost.
The sound was horrifying, echoing throughout the chamber like nails on a chalkboard, lasting for minutes on end.
It's t-trying to find its voice…?
I shot a glance around, hoping to make a coordinated effort with someone—anyone.
But it was no use. Everyone was fighting their own battle against a depravity of air.
"Efuuthr. Kininaala. Umbathaaa."
Another wave of dread washed over us, and my vision began to blur, black lines at the edges narrowing my field of view until there was nothing but it.
I felt my will slipping and my mind teetering the edge between conscious and unconsciousness. The feeling was far too dreadful to rebel against.
I began slipping away, until…
'—Papa!"
Blinding pain brought me back, coupled with the taste of metal staining my tongue and lips.
I spit out blood—which I struggled with doing—as I turned to regard Seraphina.
There was a sense of comfort and clarity that I felt coming from her.
Somehow, she was unaffected by its voice.
Now's not the time to worry about that… I need…to get up…!
Clenching my right hand, I inhaled, pushing strength into my legs, leaning forward, before—
"Em… ot… nruter."
The wave of pressure emitting from it suddenly relented, along with the effects on my mind.
Instead, there was a sudden shift in the chamber. As my companions recovered, catching their breaths and senses of self, movement—sporadic and eerie—erupted from all around us.
…The corpses of the shrouds had come back to life.
But not in the way I expected.
The bodies were certainly moving, yet they weren't alive. Instead, it was as if they were puppets being controlled by invisible strings.
They stood, bodies jerking erratically, blood still pooled beneath their feets, various limbs missing or maimed. Those who couldn't stand merely crawled, but even they somehow managed—against all odds—to be pulled towards The Warden, defying all logic.
Soon, their bodies disappeared beneath an accumulating mash of flesh and blood, burying all distinct features in a grotesque mound. Dark, blood-red mana surrounded them in chaotic fluctuations, and a seed of nausea sprouted somewhere in the depths of my mind.
"J-just what…" The words died on Evrenn's lips, his voice pushing me past my awe.
"Everyone, we have to get up…" My voice was raw and hoarse, realization coming to me in fragments.
When I noticed no obvious movements, I layered a thin aura of mana just in front of my face, filling the immediate space with Intent.
"Now!"
That seemed to do the trick.
Ignis and Aswalo were the first to rise to their feet, followed by Rome, Caelora, and finally, Evrenn. "Damn it all!" I could hear him mutter.
"This thing… We have to think of a plan for when it's finished transforming. Something—anything—will do!"
I was met with silence.
"Easier said than done. We don't know what it's capable of," Ignis responded.
"I'll have to agree with Fireboy," Romei began, "The best we can do is stick to the same formation, hope nothing else changes. There's too much to account for otherwise."
As much as I would've liked to disagree, to propose a solution… they were right.
But still, my instincts were yelling at me, telling me to forgo all previous notions of coherence. To run, to spread out. To survive.
As the being in front of us—whatever it was becoming—would be something so tyrannical, so domineering… that it would sweep through us all like nothing.
"Then, I guess we have no other choice. We'll bunker down and hold on for dear life."
Aswalo's finishing words were accompanied by the sudden ease of pressure in the chamber, as if the amalgamations of flesh had chosen this particular time to complete their ritual.
The blood-red mana had receded, almost completely leaving, and standing in the midst of the once chaotic knots of energy, was a humanoid figure. The air was unnervingly still.
When did he… How did we not see…?
A vast pool of shadows stood beneath its seven-foot-tall frame, indescribably deep… yet knowingly full.
Then, as if responding to an unspoken command, the darkness surged outwards, wrapping around the figure's body in twisting ribbons, hardening into intricate black armor seemingly forged from anthracite; lusterless and elegant.
He raised a hand, and a sword of pure shadow slowly coalesced—something I instinctively took note of—long, narrow, and featureless.
As though it was carved from the very concept of the absence of light. It wasn't long before he began resembling that of a dreadly knight.
My party raised their weapons, making slight adjustments in our footing, tension building in the air. The most unnerving part of it all was the silence.
His mana was either gone… or existing in a realm of such control—such skill and finesse—that it was undetectable.
Not good…!
The Dark Knight brought its sword up into a measured stance.
Both hands on hilt, feet shoulder-width apart, one hip drawn back, as it settled into position.
Before the next second passed, a wave of dark, oppressive aura rolled out from it, not filling the chamber, rather aimed directly at us… his foes.
Aswalo shifted to prepare. "...Here he co—!"
The Dark Knight's hand was already in range, reaching directly for Romei, who was positioned a step or two behind us.
Before he could find purchase, however, a massive shield swung at him from his side.
Blood splattered through the air, and Aswalo's maimed body was sent crashing against a distant wall.
A severed arm flew through the air right around that time. "—Honey!"
…What?
Ignis' longsword flashed out, colliding against The Knight's, sending sparks flying.
They exchanged a brief series of blows before the creature lashed out with the hilt of his weapon, sending Ignis to a knee, hand reaching forward.
My sword—emboldened with flames—carved a deep gash in its back, tearing through armor, and interrupting it.
Only, I watched the shadows at its heel coalesce, filling that emptiness immediately.
Its movement stalled as it slowly turned to me.
I grimaced, preparing to defend, but silver bullets of a mercury-like substance crashed against its helmet, distractingly.
From a "safe" distance away, Caelora's staff guided her magic, her expression twisted into a deep sense of anxiety and determination. It gave me the strength I needed to continue.
Pouring more mana around my blade, my flames grew brighter, and I lunged to its side, hoping to find a blindspot before swinging.
Its greaved hands gripped my blade and tried to yank it out of my hands—failing before deciding to toss me away with it. I went rolling, but recovered shortly after, noticing that Ignis was back to fighting; relentless with his efforts.
Seraphina was alongside him, doing what she could.
I briefly considered focusing on spell casting, but that thought was quickly discarded, realization settling in the front of my mind.
This thing immediately went for our only healer… He's been observing us.
If Ignis and I don't keep it pre-occupied, then he'll certainly go after Caelora next.
.Shit.
My attention flashed over the rest of our party.
Romei had managed to break off towards Aswalo, her hands glowing a green brighter than any I had seen before, as a waterfall of tears streamed down her face.
Her frantic voice resonated just outside of my edge of hearing, pulling strings on my heart.
"No, no—please! Please, you can't die! Aswalo! Listen to my voice! Healing! Healing!"
Fleeting embers dissipated into the atmosphere from that side—I wasn't sure of their origins, but I didn't question it.
He was in a life threatening condition. Evrenn, meanwhile… I didn't spare him a second glance.
One look at his wet pants and buckling knees, and I could tell he wasn't going to be of any help.
At best, he'd just get in the way.
That left only us three… four.
'Go to Romei,' I sent to Seraphina. She met my proposal with immediate refusal.
'I can fight, too—!'
'—No! I don't need you to fight… I need you to protect them. Please.'
I felt our mental connection linger before shutting off abruptly. Her lupine form began backing away reluctantly until she was a distance away, though the tension in her body never left.
Inwardly, I apologized, telling myself that things would eventually change.
But for now, the circumstances were too dire.
A surge of mana rolled through my body, my core igniting with heat in my sternum, as my features and senses underwent a drastic change. A golden rune formed on the back of my right hand.
It felt like opening my eyes after a long time spent peering through a cloudy haze.
"Come forth, Seere."
[Beast Stigma, First Manifestation Aspect: Seere (Physique)].
***