Book 1: Chapter 62: The Swarm That Walks

Book 1: Chapter 62: The Swarm That Walks

Something so large should not move so quickly. This was the first thought that entered my mind as the behemoth lashed downwards. The air blurred white as it attacked, crushing force directed at the nearest Swarmling. It darted forward, under the blow and my vision was torn away, priority given to the foe that approached.

An aura radiated about this thing, a declaration that it was a Champion. The sinuous growths that curved over the shoulders of others were forsaken here, replaced instead by a second set of arms below the first. Larger than I in height and just as bulky, it strode forward with a jagged fluidity, all honed edges and calculated movements. The singular scythe-claws of the regular swarmlings were gone, replaced by clawed hands that grasped a multitude of weapons.

Long swords of bone were held steady in the top set, a dull shield and rounded symbol grasped in the remaining arms. Any curiosity as to what that could do was dispelled seconds later when it gleamed and an inferno was conjured around me. Dark flames licked at my body in search of flesh and found naught but steel.

The ground broke beneath my hooves and the champion drew close as I exploded forward, claymore raised. Deceptively long, the arm holding the buckled swung up to meet the blow. Snarl upon my lips, I leaned into Brutal Swing and the mass of steel I called a blade blurred with acceleration.

Violent was the only way to describe how it stopped and yanked backwards as I staggered back, force turned against me as the shield pulsed on impact.

The Champions dark form surged forward, blades poised to stab into my chest. A pained roar brought forth Cloven Crash, and its charge was halted. For all of a heartbeat. The eldritch symbol gleamed, and it shattered my skill to continue its rush.

That single, precious moment was all I needed to regain my footing. Blade whirled overhead, I used my longer reach to bring it down once more. The shield darted up, and I swung the feint aside, stepped in, and savagely kicked the side of its leg. The sound of splintering bones was audible even as I leaned back to avoid both blades being pincered into my chest.

Blade dragged along the ground, I stepped backward and realized, in this moment, the others still existed. Obsidian spears lanced into my back and elicited bellows of pain. My brain clouded as waves of oppressive energy crashed down upon my psyche. One of the Swarmlings hovered above the ground, suspended by psychic energy as it targeted me from the far distance.

The behemoth engaged three swarmlings at once, I knew without the need for a glance. Black thorns lanced its body, yet it cared little as it pursued the trio with furious purpose. These were all small details I was able to glean as my psyche began to crumble under the eldritch assault. I raged against the crushing darkness as it closed around me, but bloodlust and hatred failed to stem the tide of nothingness.

Ishila stepped from the lodge, arm drawn back. With a howl, she whipped forward and hurled a metal orb through the air. It blurred halfway along its arc, and the crushing tide of mental energy ended abruptly. I straightened just in time to see the psycher tumble through the air, neck and chest crushed inwards.

Axe in hand and bag of bomb-bursts at her belt, the orc screamed fury and entered the fray.

The sounds of flesh and bone being wrenched and warped reached me before I comprehended what the champion wrought. It had staggered back for a moment, leg bent inwards at horrific angles. The eldritch symbol raised, it commanded the wound to become undone, and it was so. Another roar froze it in place as I let hatred rise and stepped forward once more.

It broke through the skill once more. I fed it another. Cloven Crash was called again and again in the space between heartbeats, the skill almost exhausted by the time I had reached the champion of these horrors.

Blade aligned with its neck, I swung the claymore with all available might. Fate cheated me once more as its body abruptly contorted and it gave me its arm instead. I watched with disgusted fascination as limbs shifted around before my very eyes, only some small satisfaction gained at one main arm was sheered off.

If this evoked pain, there was no visible sign of it. The monster righted itself once the blade had passed and lashed out. Its bone blade sliced through my metallic hide with ease, the edge traced along my ribs. Snarl of pain dragged forth, I twisted with momentum and slammed another low kick into its form even as it twisted with the blow.

Death needed to be visited on this monstrosity, and I would be the one to deliver it. Yet the strain of combat and keeping the behemoth bound to this plane was heavy upon me. I caught a stumble mid-step, then stomped down on the severed arm as the eldritch symbol flared once more. Not this time.

The ivory-white bone blade that lay next to said arm warped and bolted through the air as the champion straightened. It struck the other blade in almost liquid form, melding itself to the surface. Unmade and remade in the space between blinks, it now wielded a massive greatsword with a single arm.

Didnt stop me from charging it anyway.

A multitude of blades descended upon me, a storm of swords come to rend my flesh and rake my bones.

I stopped abruptly, let the storm crash down before me and did the stupidest thing possible. Muscles screamed and the air blurred as I hurled my claymore end over end. It spur through the darkness and impaled itself right in the monsters chest. But even a blow directly to the core did little to faze it. It was stunned for perhaps a second, yes. But that was all.

All the time I needed for the behemoth to charge in and seize it. Giant though it was, the behemoth trapped it within two clamped palms as it began to swarm and slice once more.

Just enough time for Ishila to wind back and aim another pulsing lance right at it. The air pounded and light pulsed in erratic waves as the young orc brought her full power to bear. Slowly, surely, she dragged the immense sun-lance through the space, and aimed it as if guiding a sunbeam.

Flesh shredded and bones beginning to fray, I gasped, able to feel the behemoths pain as it kept the swarm in place.

Ishials arm flexed and shot forward, and in that instant, I dispelled the power that kept the behemoth bound to this world. The swarm was fast, beyond any human being. But there was naught that could outrun the sun. A streak of heaven-light tore the night away, turning all to day for the briefest moment. To say the nightmare was obliterated would be to understate what had happened. Its very being was lanced through, the spear tearing through the magic and flesh that bound it to this world.

There one instant, gone the next.

Only the eldritch symbol remained, suspended in mid-air. It hovered for a moment, then shot heavenward and vanished into the night.

Gods Above. I panted and collapsed backward. The stress of combat and summoning the behemoth had sapped any strength that I had managed to build.

Those were not creatures created by the hands of deities. Ishila offered as she staggered close, looking dead inside.

Whatever they were, they came here with a purpose in mind.

But the question is, did they come to kill me, or you?

Dont know. Dont care. Ishila grunted. Back to the mud with all the damned things.

That was a sentiment I wholly shared.

So. I grunted with a groan. Suppose we should go see what was wrecked this time.

Aye. Might as well. Might as well forget about sleep as well, I guess.

A tender wince from me confirmed that. Much as my inner bloodthirsty minotaur loved the fight, nobody was really appreciative on what happened afterwards.