Chapter 122: The Dead May Die

Chapter 122: The Dead May Die

Chapter 122

The Dead May Die

Its here, Sylas came to a halt and warned, pointing at the invisible membrane between the snowed-on trees. Agnes paused next to him, her eyes veering toward the direction and alighting.

Its fascinating, she mumbled.

You can see it?

Hmm, see it is... not quite the right way to describe it, she said. For example, each time I was about to come across a dangerous animal somewhere in the woods... I had a feeling, and the world shifted colors--

Ah, I get it. Gods are telling you to fuck off outta here.

Something like that, yes, she nodded. Considering how stern the feeling is... whatevers beyond is quite dangerous, huh? she looked at him.

Hmm, quite dangerous is... not quite the right way to describe it, he grinned as she rolled her eyes. For example, the last time I came here, I got my ass handed to me rather quickly after meeting a big-ass knight in armor. It will be different this time, though, he licked his lips suddenly, a glimmer of expectation shimmering in his gaze. If youd like, you can stay out here. But I aint leaving that place alive.

Ill come, she shrugged. May as well bear witness to something no other human alive had. Well, except you, I suppose.

You mean me or the dead?

... both? she shoved him gently and smiled as she pressed forward, her bare feet leaving steaming imprints in the snow.

Sylas shook his head and followed, with both quickly breaking past the invisible barrier and into a completely different world. Sylas immediately realized there were some changes--namely, there were far more spires, more buildings, and... well, more things in general. The city appeared much larger, though still draped in dark and gloomy shadows, cast wholly of oily, black stone akin to chiseled obsidian.

On the other hand, Agnes stammered and stuttered and nearly fell back. Rather, she would have had Sylas not extended his arm and held her. Her lips gaped in shock, eyes quivering at the sight.

Its a bit bigger than I remember, he said.

That... thats what you get from this?!! she exclaimed. I know you said its a city... but... its a city.

Well... uh, no, yeah, what I said. What the hell do you mean?

Reaching within the ten feet of the beast, the latter swung its gigantic weapon toward Sylas. And rather than simply shifting to the side slightly or trying to block or parry, he rooted his feet for a moment and immediately snapped his body wholly left. What would take everyone else in the world, she suspected, a full, proper stop and change in directions, he executed in a single motion. Though she heard some bones creak, none snapped.

She, also, quickly realized why he chose to do that over everything else--the strike of the giant caused a massive chasm to erupt in the ground, not to mention the sheer outburst of wind on all ends rooted stones from the ground and sent them flying. One, in fact, shot toward her like an arrow but melted before reaching her, as though a thousand hands worked in concert to prevent it from touching her.

In the meantime, Sylas flanked the beast and started attacking. Not unlike his armor, Sylas' bladed wasn't anything special--it was an ordinary, steel-crafted, and tempered blade. Though immensely effective against people and normal armors, it lost most of its usefulness against what looked to be even stronger than the tempered plate, not to mention that the bladed wasn't even the length of the beast's forearm.

All the same, Sylas continued the dance, stabbing with unmatched ferocity, ducking and dodging left and right. The winds kicked up the ash and blurred her sight, though she still fetched it all clearly--he was a tiny mote amidst the flaunting darkness... and he was winning. She felt it. She felt the darkness flinching. The steady strikes that never wavered suddenly became hurried. Panicked. Sloppy. From attacking unhesitatingly, it began using its weapon to block instead. To try and parry. But it didnt realize something that even she did--it had already lost.

Its sole advantage was that it was big and strong and its armor. It could never match Sylas speed or natural skill. And thus, in the moment of panic, Sylas found the opening and stabbed with one of those strikes that stirred every drop of blood in Agnes heart almost to the point of believing she could become a swordsman like him. The strike shuffled the wind and shuffled space around it and bore through the thick, ebony-dyed armor and did the unfathomable--it exploded the figure from within the armor.

Though the plate remained standing, from within its gaps blood and gore and chunks of flesh and organs began spewing like a horrid, horrific, nightmare-inducing fountain. Like a macabre decoration that the very dead he was killing would be worshiping. At the sight, Agnes looked away and closed her eyes. It was horrible, the shower of blood. The storm of gore. And it was cold. There was not a scream of pain. Not even a tiny yelp. There was silence and the thuds of the chunks belting against the ground.

She opened her eyes a few moments later and looked forward--there it still stood, the armor. It was now like a golem, a decorative statue that went... eerily well with the background. It truly looked like it had always belonged there--the silent, inanimate guardian of the obsidian city behind it. Before she could ponder over whether she admired it or abhorred it, she realized Sylas had returned to her, draped in blood from head to toe.

Were fucked, beautiful, he said with a grin, taking a flagon of wine from next to her feet and drinking a few mouthfuls. Looks like Ive pissed someone really strong off. What say you? Piss em off further or run?

... piss em off, she grinned and took the flagon from him, taking a few sips herself, as though trying to swallow the fire of courage to ignite her soul. And go win once again.

Well, shit, he chuckled, turning around and facing the city once again. I cant lose now. Wouldnt that be embarrassingly lame?

It really would. So, you better win. I just might reward you... with a kiss~~

... aaah, why did all my motivation suddenly deflate like a corpse that someone poked with a needle?

Hey!!! My kiss is a godly prize, you know?!!

Well, kiss or no kiss, he said. Were both about to be deeply fucked. I hope you arent heartly hanging onto your dying the most painful way virginity. Stand behind me and hold a dagger. If she starts torturing me, stab me in the back of the neck, he pointed at his nape. And then, with all your strength, shiv it left or right.

You... youre asking me to kill you?

"Kill me? No, no, more like... reborn me. Yeah, let's go with that. I'm serious, Agnes," he warned her sternly. "I'd much rather you kill me and live with your demons than become a puppet of torture for some maniac for decades to come. Alright?"

A-alright! I will! she nodded, grasping at the handle of a dagger and swearing inwardly up and down shed do it even if she had to cry for months after. Or days. Or perhaps hours. Surprisingly, the thought of killing him as to air out her grievances against him... didnt seem that bad after some examination.