Elyon and Cyrn were squatting on a high branch near the cave, and soon, they saw a flood of wights begin to leave the cave, 20 at least, with more coming.
"Shit, I didn't expect them to come out all at once! Alright then, Cyrn, let's get to work."
Cyrn mumbled something Elyon couldn't really catch. They both dropped from the branch and began the slaughter.
Cyrn's attacks were clunky but efficient — clearly practiced, but lacking refinement.
Hmm, clearly used a sword before, but not for that long, and definitely no formal training. Good for hunting, bad in an actual sword duel, Elyon analyzed and picked up on quickly.
Compared to Cyrn, Elyon was like dancing fire, gracefully decapitating wight after wight effortlessly. Cyrn saw this and thought Clearly trained, and a lot at that. I wish I had any sword knowledge so I could gather more, but I can't tell.
Elyon and Cyrn chopped down wight after wight, with Elyon far surpassing Cyrn in kill count.
The battle was chaotic, but the moment Elyon began, Cyrn realized he was right; he could've completed this mission by himself.
He hasn't even used this affinity I keep hearing so much about, just sword skills. Cyrn was impressed. This guy was definitely strong and could definitely wipe the floor with him. Maybe I should poke fun a little less…ahh, who am I kidding, I'm not doing that.
The slaughter continued for a few more minutes before the dust settled.
Elyon and Cyrn stood over the corpses, 33 in total, higher than expected but manageable.
Cyrn killed 10, Elyon got the other 23, more than double what Cyrn managed, but he didn't care; now wasn't the time for pride.
Elyon soon spoke up, "Alright, even though I killed most of them, we can go halvsies on this. I don't really need the money all that much."
Cyrn visually perked up at the sound of that "Thanks," He said with genuine appreciate "I could use the extra money."
Before his gratitude could linger, Elyon responded, "Don't worry, I could tell you were dirt broke anyway, you're close look weeks old hehehe". Elyon snickered.
Cyrn smiled, but his brows knit together as he tightly shut his eyes, very clearly irked by the dangerously accurate joke. "Yeah, yeah, rich boy, go sit on your pile of coins, I hope they cut you every time you sit in it." Cyrn quipped back as best he could.
They both laugh before they are abruptly cut off by the sound of a loud and horrendous growl.
They snap their heads in the same direction to see a wight, but this one is different from the ones they just felled. The trees bent toward it as it stepped out of the cave, its presence dragging the very air downward with it. It had horns that curved around its head like a crown, and it towered over both of them. Alongside this, it's SoulCurrent.
Cyrn couldn't sense SoulCurrent, not possessing any in the first place, but Elyon could tell. This thing isn't like the other Wights.
"Shit, Cyrn, that's a fucking Wight King. It's stronger than all the wights we just fought combined, and its SoulCurrent is strong enough to manifest as an ability."
Cyrn's eyes were still glued to the Wight King, panicked but not terrified. "What's the ability?" He asked, scared of the answer he would get.
"It can reanimate dead wights in its area…"
"Fuck me"
As soon as Cyrn finished his curse against himself, he could hear the 33 wights they just killed begin to shuffle and move. Those missing arms or heads didn't regain them, but they stood back up, ready to fight again.
Cyrn and Elyon stood back to back now, preparing for a fight they weren't ready for.
"Alright, here's the plan," Elyon said, voice steady and collected. "I can take out the Wight King, but my body won't be able to handle the power output of my affinity manifesting right now. After the Wight King is dead, the Other wight will remain reanimated, but they won't be able to come back. You'll have to take care of the rest of the wights. Some are missing heads and arms, so you should be fine taking the rest of them out, right?"
Cyrn stood and looked at the wight horde in front of him, thinking to himself This is going to be really painful.
Cyrn nods and says, "Yeah, it'll be hard, but I can take out the horde if you're out cold."
"Perfect, on 3. 1…2…3!"
Elyon seemingly teleports in front of the Wight King instantly, decapitating its head, before collapsing with Elyon, both looking like corpses, but Elyon is still breathing, yet it was shallow, and his heart rate reduced by a lot.
"Holy shit," Cyrn said out loud as he saw the aftermath of the duel, and the golden fire that burst out in the space between Elyon and the Wight King.
Before Cyrn could analyze any further, he felt a scratch bloom across his chest.
Shit that hurts. Ok, I can't take all of these guys without regenerating 18 limbs, and even then, I might not be given the time to regenerate. Fuck what should I do?
The thought of running and abandoning the collapsed Elyon ran through his mind for a moment, but stopped immediately. I like him; he's eerily similar to Silas, and I like hanging out with him. I can't just leave his unconscious body defenseless; I'm not that kind of person.
Plans were flowing through his head as he was dodging between monsters, when the perfect plan solidified in his head.
Yeah, that's perfect, help me in the long run too.
POV: Elyon
After decapitating the Wight King, Elyon lay on the floor, slowing his heart rate and breathing to appear unconscious, while silently watching Cyrn to see what he would do.
I wanna give this guy a chance, but I need to see if he's willing to abandon me for the reward right now. Plus, I may get to see his hidden cards.
In reality, Elyon could've wiped out the reanimated wights and Wight King instantly with no harm to himself, but he wanted to test this odd companion of his. See what he would do if presented with the option to run, and see what his real capabilities are like.
If I see something crazy, I'll keep it to the grave. I've already been lying to him way more than I'd like to; I do want to be friends with him, he's just so damn curious. I need to know what kind of anomaly this guy is.
Elyon was feeling bad for all the lying when he felt something pull up his cut hand, and a tongue ran across his palm, lapping up his blood.
WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS GUY DOING?
POV: Cyrn
Cyrn licked Elyon's palm, and soon it all hit him. Memories of a massive mansion, pajamas lined in silk, 1000-count threaded pillows. The chosen one, the strongest, the prodigy like none have ever seen before. A cold family, a tool for their power, a destiny laid out the moment he was born. The self-loathing, the desire to be autonomous, the revulsion towards what he was made to do so young.
Ordained duels where he brutally and ruthlessly beat kids his age, a show of strength and status for his family, and his own willing compliance with it for so long. Sent on missions to slaughter rivals before they could bloom into a challenge. The abuse of commoners who had done nothing to him, confident his statues gave him all the leeway in the world.
And a tragic girl's fall from grace, that turned his hatred from rivals and commoners, towards nobility, and most of all himself and his power.
Cyrn stared at the sky, eyes teary, not caring for the horde of Wights approaching him.
"I'm…Elyon DeBeaumont, and I wish to be immolated in my own divine fire."
Elyon's body visibly flinched, but Cyrn was too entranced in the power of Elyon's blood to notice.
As the first Wight approached, Cyrn began to perfectly mimic Elyon's sword technique in its entirety. He used it with the practiced efficiency that Elyon had, slaughtering wave upon wave of Wights.
Minutes passed, and soon, the wight corpses stood at Cyrn's feet, the Identity mimic wearing off with the sword technique; his body would never forget the movements he used today.
Well, at least I know he's a good guy, or is now. God, that's a shitty childhood. Similar to Silas', must be why they're so similar…Well, at least I got a badass sword technique.
Soon, however, he heard a shuffle behind him, and he was soon face to face with Elyon, hood and mask down now, and Cyrn finally got a good look at him.
Fuck, this guy is so handsome, it pisses me off.
Golden blonde hair stood on his head, face sculpted by a master too enamored with their own piece, and those same emerald green eyes that looked at him without anger or frustration, just curiosity.
Before Cyrn could say anything, Elyon shot questions at him.
"Why did you drink my blood? How did you copy my sword technique? How did you know I was a DeBeaumonet?" Cyrn was stunned at the questions, realizing he was awake the whole time
"And most of all, who the fuck are you?"