"Dickhead," Gael muttered, his voice muffled behind his dented helm as he stepped up beside him, resting his greatsword on his shoulder.
Deacon snorted, shaking the sting out of his forearms and the ends of his boots that had caught fire from his intense use of his newly created spell. "Damnit, I really liked these ones," he sighed in annoyance.
"We can visit Marty's and see if he has any kobold hide boots on hand," Esmerelda suggested to Deacon as she dusted off herself, unwilling to use Cleanse, as that would be a waste of mana.
That would be a good idea, given how I think I'm gonna be using this spell quite often, Deacon mused to himself before giving Esmerelda a nod. "Yeah, I'll go give them a visit after we're done here."
With Deacon taking point and Gael taking second point on the right stem, the three of them surged forward. Without Flame Step active, the trail of fire beneath the soles of his boots no longer burned behind him, allowing Esmerelda to stay close in the center rear of their line, where she unleashed volley after volley of spells, and every strike that was aimed her way was swiftly downed by Deacon or Gael before it could ever reach her.
As they charged toward the dais, where the Pontiff stood unleashing waves of holy fire from his staff and healing spells from afar, the trio closed in. Only when they were a few hundred meters away from reaching him, Deacon who was leading the charge, suddenly skidded to a halt. The sight of Deacon suddenly coming to a stop when they had yet to reach the dais caused Gael to stop running and skid atop the bloodied marble before coming to a halt, while Esmerelda, caught off guard, crashed into Deacon's back before she could slow herself.
Esmerelda bit back a curse, rubbing her forehead as she stumbled back before lifting her gaze to see what had made Deacon stop so suddenly, and when she did, she understood why; the Pontiff was rising into the air.
As the torn ends of his robe flared out in the updraft of his power, his skeletal frame seemed to expand as golden light coiled around his body like living fire. Yet despite this sudden glowing of light coiling around his body, blood still poured from the wound on his shoulder, soaking the fabric of his robes as they now coiled tightly with the holy light around him, as they glowed brighter and hotter, until the point where even looking at the Pontiff directly was nearing the point of becoming blinding.
"Stay sharp," Deacon muttered as the heat of the holy flames enveloping the Pontiff's body was now stinging his skin.
As the glow began to die down, the Pontiff's robes now wound themselves around his body like armor, and he now held his staff that was parallel to the ground with both hands.
"It has been over one hundred and thirty-seven years since I've last drawn my blade," the Pontiff said as his right hand tightened around the upper neck of his staff and slowly began to pull. "But that does not mean I've neglected to imbue my Veladoros with my devotion for even a single day."
As he finished his words, a deep and resonant hum rippled through the air as the golden staff began to split apart within his grasp and began to release a blinding light that flooded the Inner Sanctum. When the head of the staff finally came free, it revealed the weapon hidden within, a longsword forged from Sanctified Sunstone – one that quickly flashed into motion as it deflected a blast of flame fired at him.
"I will deal with you heretics myself…" Locating his attacker, the Pontiff now had his molten and unblinking eyes locked directly onto Deacon. "Starting with you."
"Yeah?" Deacon said, a humorless grin ghosting across his face as sweat and soot streaked his jaw. "Then I suggest you shut the fuck up and actually start fighting."
The Pontiff's face twisted from disgust to something much colder as he regarded Deacon's words. "So be it."
And then the Pontiff launched himself forward, and a sharp, concussive crack ripped through the chamber as his holy blade carved through the air, leaving a burning wake of gold behind him.
"Shit— Gael, get Esme back!" Deacon barked, already reacting as the Pontiff closed the gap faster than he thought possible.
The sound of Deacon's command had barely reached Gael's ears before he spun on his heel, grabbed Esmerelda mid-step, hooked an arm around her waist, and hauled her off the ground—throwing her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.
"Gael! What the hell are you—" Esmerelda shouted with wide eyes as she was suddenly lifted off the ground, not having seen the Pontiff, as her eyes had watered up from how brightly the Pontiff's blade had been glowing.
"No arguing!" he growled, his voice gravelly with strain as he broke into a sprint. Every step thundered as he ripped through shattered marble, leapt over fallen pillars, and, in between multiple fights now that people had begun to regain their bearings due to the pain caused by the Pontiff's overwhelming presence, was full of holy mana radiating off of him.
Esmerelda's fist slammed weakly against his back. "Put me down, damnit! I can cast—"
"Yeah? And then get roasted when he lets loose a blast? This is a Boss, Esmerelda, a final one in a Linked Quest," Gael grunted, vaulting over a cracked column and ducking under the trajectory of a flying paladin's corpse. "You can cast just fine from the back, now shut up and hold still."
Deacon didn't wait to see them clear.
His boots scraped marble as he dashed forward, flames bursting from beneath his soles as Flame Steps ignited again, propelling him forward like a cannon round. Echoform Reliquary, still in its broadsword form, blazed in his hands—its crimson light clashing violently against the gold radiance of the Pontiff's blade – Veladoros.
When the two blades met each other, the air between them exploded.
The blast of power created shockwaves that rippled through the Inner Sanctum, causing dust to fall from the ceiling and Deacon's flames to skyrocket into the air and set flame to a couple of banners that were hanging from the ceiling directly above him.
As the flares of gold and red struck with one another and writhed for dominance, they exploded once again with such ferocity that it forced those nearby to raise an arm or duck behind their shields in order to shield their eyes.
Deacon's muscles screamed as his arms locked against the Pontiff's strength. Every swing from Veladoros carried divine weight, every parry from Echoform sparked molten lines of energy that crackled and hissed as they carved through the floor and walls alike.
Then, just as their blades were about to separate on the account that Deacon did not have the ability to fly, the Pontiff pressed his advantage, raising his blade high before bringing it down in a merciless arc.
As Deacon began to fall, he barely managed to raise his sword up in time to block; along with the lack of footing, the impact hurled him backward through the air.
Hurling through the air, Deacon twisted himself upright mid-flight and managed to stay that way for a few seconds before his boots slammed into the ground, tumbling him backward a few times until his back crashed against a collapsed column.
The hit knocked the wind from his lungs, and he coughed once, spitting dust before pushing himself off the rubble and wiping the thin line of blood from the corner of his mouth. He exhaled sharply. "Alright, who the fuck injected roids into this old man's oatmeal?"
Casting Flame Steps once again, twin bursts of crimson flame exploded beneath his feet and launched him forward with Echoform Reliquary held parallel to the ground. The Pontiff's blade came sweeping around to meet him, but this time Deacon parried with a deflection instead of a block, his broadsword rolling off the holy weapon's curve before cutting upward in a rising slash that drew a bright line of gold sparks across the Pontiff's armor.
The Pontiff staggered backward as he hit the ground, his eyes flaring brighter the instant the realization sank in, and with a snarl, he brought his blade down in an overhead swing that split the air in two.
Weaving left, Deacon countered the Pontiff's strike by slamming his shoulder into the older man's midsection, the impact forcing him back half a step in the air before Echoform Reliquary clashed once more with Veladoros.
By the time Gael had set Esmerelda down behind a broken archway two hundred meters or so away from Deacon and the Pontiff, the entire battlefield had become a furnace with the combined efforts of the Pontiff's holy flames and Deacon's Undying Flame.
"Stay low and keep afar," Gael said to Esmerelda just before he began to turn away and rush back to help Deacon. "Focus more on your protection than my own."
"…I forgive you, you know," Esmerelda said as a sorrowful look overtook her face. "For what you did back then."
Gael swallowed harshly before adjusting his dented helm and sprinting towards Deacon without another word, not willing to respond to Esmerelda's words and instead focusing on the battle at hand.
Deacon and the Pontiff's blades met again just as Gael entered the fray, his greatsword coming down from the Pontiff's blind side in a brutal overhead swing that could've cleaved a man in half. But the Pontiff twisted his blade behind him with inhuman speed, catching the strike before pivoting midair to kick Gael backward — something Deacon took fully advantage of.
Deacon stepped in, twisting his broadsword low and slicing horizontally, digging into the Pontiff's side and leaving a deep cut that had the Pontiff's colon nearly visible.
Yelling out in pain and fury, the Pontiff's armor quickly repaired itself before letting loose a massive outburst of holy mana.
Esmerelda's voice cut through the cacophony. " –Roots of–!"
A massive wall of wood appeared in front of Deacon just in time to absorb the shockwave that erupted from the Pontiff's next swing. However, despite Esmerelda's timely cast shield, the force behind the Pontiff's swing shoved him back a few feet.
The two weapons collided with a shriek of metal that made the air itself ring. Sparks burst outward as the Pontiff twisted his wrist and parried Gael's strike aside, but Deacon was already there — stepping into the follow-through, flame bursting from his boots as he drove his broadsword upward in a rising arc that grazed along the Pontiff's chestpiece and sent golden, tattered fabric to scatter in the air.
The Pontiff counterattacked immediately. His sword slashed downward in a streak of light that seared through the air and slammed against Deacon's guard, forcing him backward several steps before Gael's greatsword came in from the flank. The Pontiff pivoted to intercept, catching the heavier weapon at the cross-guard and shoving back, as he shifted the impact of the intercept downwards and ignored the hundreds of cracks that spiderwebbed across the marble tiles beneath his feet.
Circling to the Pontiff's back, Deacon slammed his heel into the floor, casting Flame Steps once more and driving Echoform Reliquary forward into the Pontiff's left shoulder. The blade pierced through the golden pauldron, sinking barely a quarter inch into flesh before Deacon felt the surge of holy power building up once again within the Pontiff's flesh.
Kicking off the ground and managing to retreat far enough – seconds before the Pontiff unleashed a burst of light that would've scorched his skin raw, just like the undead and cadets caught in the earlier blast.
After the blast had died down, Gael pressed in again with a heavy diagonal swing, his sword trailing silver sparks as it met the Pontiff's. The clang reverberated like a bell, and when their blades locked, Gael snarled and shoved forward, attempting to use his raw strength to push the Pontiff's guard up high – but he was met with failure as he was unable to budge the Pontiff even a step backwards.
The Pontiff countered with a burst of sanctified energy that threw Gael back a few feet with burnt and sizzling skin all across his gloveless hands and across the bridge of his nose, while Deacon was far away enough to not get caught up in the blast.
Leaping over the sweep of the golden blade, Deacon twisted mid-air and brought his sword down in a wide overhead swing that forced the Pontiff to catch it with one hand on the handle and the other on the back of the blade, his arm trembling as sparks and light cascaded between their locked weapons.
Gael came in again, roaring as he brought his blade down two-handed in a brutal strike aimed at the Pontiff's neck. However, the Pontiff managed to disengage from Deacon just in time to meet Gael's blow, but the clash broke his balance – something that Deacon yet again capitalized on.
Driving his elbow into the Pontiff's side and following with a short, explosive slash across his midsection that tore off a massive section of the Pontiff's armor and a large chunk of flesh.
Letting out a roar of anger and anguish as he staggered back, the Pontiff's left hand shot to his heart and tore the golden fabric above it to reveal a branded insignia of a rising sun, which began to flicker as the Pontiff began to shout, "Azul – the Radiant Flame, the First Sun! Grant me the strength to push back the wicked undead!"