Book 4: Chapter 18: The Warden's Domain

Book 4: Chapter 18: The Warden's Domain

“Don’t struggle,” growled Waldo, unbuckling his belt. “You want your parents freed, don’t you?”

The girl shrank against the wall – as if he was some sort of despicable monster. After everything he’d done for her, she had the audacity to look at him like he was beneath her? The girl – he didn’t even remember her name – was the daughter of one of the prisoners outside. If he remembered correctly, they had been executed a few days before – but that didn’t matter. The girl didn’t know, which was all that was important.

He stepped forward, intending to grab her by the hair and show her precisely who was in charge. She needed to be put back in her place. She needed to understand who she was dealing with.

So many people regarded the apocalypse as some terrible calamity that had befallen humanity. But Waldo McArthur wasn’t one of them. Before, he’d been a powerless security guard. A loser who couldn’t even be trusted to carry a gun on the job. Now, though? He was a man of consequence and power. He was important. The king himself had said so, and his word was law.

Everywhere but in Waldo’s prison, at least. In there, he was the Warden. It was his domain, which meant that, in that expansive facility, even the king couldn’t rival his authority. Which made the little slip of a girl – barely more than sixteen years old – and her revulsion so much more irritating.

But that was fine.

He would show her.

He would show them all.

Or that was the plan right up until a monster out of nightmares erupted out of the shadows, burying its claws in his shoulder and aiming a horrifyingly swift bite at Waldo’s head.

He shifted far more quickly than a man of his size should’ve been capable of moving, narrowly avoiding the creature’s razor-sharp teeth as they snapped shut with the force of finality. Only then did Waldo remember that, in the prison, his authority was absolute.

After all, he was the Warden. The Divine System had given him that class, and he’d used it as it was intended to be used. Utilizing Strength of the Jailer, he wrapped his meaty hands around the monster, then levered it free. It left more than a few wounds behind, but he had potions for that. Ignoring his blood-soaked shirt, he heaved the monster across the room.

It hit with bone-crunching force, collapsing to the ground a second later.

Waldo advanced, intending to finish the creature off. But then, it shifted, transforming before his very eyes. The thing’s scales melted away, and its body morphed into the last thing he expected.

“You’re human?” he muttered. Then, as a short, bearded man with blonde hair pushed himself to his feet, Waldo grinned. “You’re human.”

“Good eye, asshole,” the man growled, ethera swirling all around him.

That would not do at all.

Waldo used Warden’s Shackles:

Warden’s Shackles

Create an affliction that rapidly drains a prisoner’s store of ethera. Only usable inside the Warden’s jail. Rate of drain based on caster’s level, Core cultivation, and Ethera attribute.

The man gasped, and Waldo’s grin widened. “You don’t like that one little bit, do you?” he taunted. “I’m told it’s quite painful, having the magic sucked right out of you.”

That’s when someone whacked him in the back of the head. It wasn’t enough to even stagger Waldo, but it did elicit quite a response. He whipped around, aiming a backhanded blow at the girl who dared to attack him. She held a candlestick like a weapon, as if she expected it to do any good. She didn’t even have a class yet.

Not that he was keeping score. The moment he’d recognized the situation, he’d resolved to save her. And that resolution hadn’t changed.

The Warden reached into his pocket, though his fingers didn’t seem to work as well as they should, which made him fumble the task. The delay was only a couple of seconds, but that allowed Elijah to close on him just as he pulled a small bottle free. It looked like it would only hold about eight ounces, and it was filled with vibrant green liquid.

To Elijah it felt both full of life and somehow artificial, at the same time. Sort of like artificial sweetener, though far fouler. Regardless, he could read the situation – and the Warden’s desperation – well enough to recognize that he didn’t want the man to drink it. Likely, it was a potion not dissimilar from the one Thor had used to prolong their fight. So, Elijah acted quickly, aiming the butt of his staff at the Warden’s wrist.

He connected, but as weakened as he was, it did little good, other than once again delay the man’s relief. So, Elijah hit it again. This time, the Warden tried to avoid the blow, but if Elijah was weakened, then the fat man was on his last leg. Elijah intended to keep him there as he continued to aim one blow after another at the bottle.

And eventually, he succeeded in loosening the Warden’s grip. However, when the bottle crashed to the ground, cracking at the point of impact and spilling its contents all over the floor, the Warden turned his attention on Elijah. Even in his afflicted state, the man was powerful enough to muster a spell.

Immediately, thick, ethereal chains erupted from his bulbous stomach and darted at Elijah. He tried to dodge, but his low attributes failed him. He stumbled, which was all the opening the Warden’s chains needed to wrap around him. They continued to grow, one link at a time as they encircled him a half dozen times.

“Cure!” the man coughed, clenching his fist. The chains tightened. Elijah struggled, but there was nothing he could do. He could feel his bones creaking under the pressure. He wriggled, straining every muscle in his body. It was useless, though.

A hundred thoughts raced through Elijah’s mind, but none were more prevalent than regret. For everything he’d done wrong, for all the times he’d lost track of his priorities – because in that moment, he knew he was going to die. The Warden had robbed him of his attributes as well as his ability to heal. There was no chance he would survive.

And yet, there was some solace in knowing that the grotesque man would soon perish as well. Already, the afflictions from Swarm and the Contagion from Elijah’s flurry of attacks that had also been laced with Venom Strike had nearly killed the man. He still had some ways to go, but it was only a matter of time before he succumbed.

That was good to know.

Elijah’s vision began to darken as the Warden continued his unhinged and panicked demands. And all of his thoughts coalesced into a single one. He was sorry that he hadn’t avenged his sister’s death, but at least he’d fallen trying to save someone else. She would have approved of that, at least.

Abruptly, the grip of the chains weakened.

Then, they fell away, dissipating into ethereal motes. Elijah collapsed, more than a few of his bones broken. It certainly wasn’t as bad as it had been after his fight with Thor – they were all clean breaks, as far as he could tell – but there was nothing good about having multiple fractures.

He gasped for breath, but soon, his recovery was interrupted by a repeated thumping sound. Elijah looked up to see the girl repeatedly beating the Warden over the head with the candlestick. He was already dead, a good portion of his skull having been caved in. And yet, the girl – weeping profusely – continued her assault.

That’s when Elijah felt the weakening afflictions – the one that reduced his attributes as well as the one that constantly drained his ethera – fall away. Flexing every aperture in his Mind, Elijah dragged as much ethera through the channels of his Novice Soul and into his Core, keeping going until he had enough energy to fuel Soothe.

Then, he kept going until he could use Touch of Nature.

And Healing Rain, which affected the girl as well. She’d had quite a few bruises and scratches – the man clearly hadn’t been gentle with her – so the nourishing precipitation had some work to do.

Finally, Elijah tried to speak to the girl, but she clearly couldn’t hear him. Instead, she’d collapsed atop the man, and even though she’d exhausted her strength, she continued to weakly rap the candlestick against his skull.

Once he was healed, Elijah pushed himself to his feet, then grabbed ahold of her arm. She whipped her head around, glaring at him with wild eyes, and he said, “It’s okay. He’s dead, now. You’re safe.”

“N-nobody is safe in this city,” she breathed, her voice hoarse.

“They will be,” Elijah said with no small degree of resolve. “They will be.”