Chapter 119: Fallout

Chapter 119: Fallout

Noah’s soul rose up from his body, all the pain vanishing as soon as he left it. Johan flicked the blood from his spear as Isabel sprinted to Todd’s side, falling to her knees beside him and completely ignoring the Inquisitor as she lunged for the healing potion at Todd’s waist.

“No! Let me back!” Noah screamed, struggling against the Sunder’s pull. There was absolutely nothing he could do but watch the cruel movie play out before him. The moment he was drawn back to the gourd by Sunder, he’d be completely unable to use his magic.

Johan lifted the spear, taking aim at Isabel’s back.

“Stop!” Noah yelled desperately. “Don’t!”

For an instant, Johan paused. A flicker of sadness and disappointment passed through his eyes. Noah swung a fist at the man, but his hand just passed through Johan’s head harmlessly. He didn’t care if the Inquisitor felt bad about killing his students.

Damn all the afterlife bullshit. I don’t care if there’s another life for them. They deserve to live this one!The original appearance of this chapter can be found at Ñøv€lß1n.

Johan’s features hardened. He reared back.

Noah roared in fury. He reached out, grabbing Sunder with all the force he could muster. The Master Rune’s power flooded into his soul, filling his entire body with unspeakable agony. He could feel himself coming apart at the seams, but he didn’t care.

Binding. Bind me. Just give me one second!

Ink spilled within the glow of his soul, spreading throughout him. The pull of the gourd faltered. Black lines whipped out of Noah’s body from where it lay on the ground, reaching out like hundreds of tentacles and pulling at Noah’s soul.

They wound around it, and then they yanked.

Noah’s eyes snapped open. He thrust himself forward, even as Johan started to drive the spear downward, and drove his hand into the man’s back. The immense might of Sunder’s magic tore out of his palm and flooded into Johan. The world seemed to freeze. Darkness bloomed in the sky above them. Johan looked up, his eyes going as wide as saucers.

A black spear fell from the air above him, moving so quickly that Noah could barely track it. It crashed down like the judgmental hand of god, carving the Inquisitor from head to toe with a single black flash. As soon as its tip hit the ground, the spear vanished as if it had never been there.

Noah stood, blood dripping from the hole in his chest, and staring through the gap between the two perfectly severed halves of Johan. The instant of stillness shattered, and Johan’s body fell in either direction, splatting to the ground as his magic dissipated and the dome around them fell.

A flicker of a smile passed over Noah’s lips. He felt a familiar tug on his soul. This time, he didn’t try to resist. His body pitched forward, falling to the ground as the life he had stolen back was torn free once again.

And then Noah knew no more.

***

Isabel’s fingers trembled as she poured the healing potion between Todd’s lips. For a few moments, nothing happened. Then Todd’s finger twitched. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, she burst into tears. Isabel leaned forward, hugging Todd desperately to her chest as she cried.

“I’m okay,” Todd rasped, clutching her closer. For several seconds, neither of them spoke. They just sat there, pain and grief racking their bodies. Todd pushed himself upright, then let out a pained gasp and clutched at his neck, dropping back to the ground.

“Todd!”

Todd groaned, tilting his head to the side, his chest thumping. He slowly pushed himself upright, his head still slightly askew.

“What’s going on?” Isabel stammered. “Did the potion work?”

“I don’t know,” Todd muttered. He tilted his head back, then swore and swayed in place. Isabel grabbed him before he could fall. “T-thanks. It felt like my neck got snapped again. It doesn’t matter. I’m alive. I can take some residual pain.”

It was pretty clear that the damage was far more than just residual pain. If a healing potion didn’t take care of something, then it wasn’t going anywhere. Not for a long time, at least.

Something twitched near the edge of where the dome had been. Isabel jerked, her red eyes going wide as Lee staggered to her feet. She staggered over to join the two of them, exhaustion covering her features.

“Lee! You’re alive!” Isabel exclaimed, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I thought–”

“I did too,” Lee replied, breathing heavily. She looked down at Vermil and the Inquisitor’s dead bodies. “But... where’s Vermil?”

Isabel’s face crumpled and she started to cry even harder, pressing her forehead against Todd’s chest as if to hide from the world. Lee blinked in confusion, looking around the grassy plains.

“I... I don’t understand,” Lee muttered.

“He died saving us,” Todd said, his voice trembling. “I don’t even know how he managed to do that. The bastard had one more Rune that he was hiding from us, I guess.”

“But... where is he? He can’t. He can’t die.”

Lee looked around desperately, her eyes watering. Noah’s belongings lay where he had tossed them.

Motes of black light swirled around the gourd that Vermil always carried, pouring out of its top in a slow stream. The light formed into a mound of black strands that pulled themselves together with tedious efficiency, moving inch by inch as they wound into a recognizable shape.

“Isabel,” Todd breathed, shaking her gently.

Isabel raised her gaze. Then she froze.

Skin bloomed from the darkness as Vermil’s body took form. The last of the black strands wound themselves into place and the gourd sealed itself once more. A lattice of cracked, spiderwebbing black energy covered Vermil’s naked body, pulsating weakly as it faded away.

“What is this?” Brayden asked, his voice breaking as he took a step forward. A weak breath filled Vermil’s lungs and his chest rose faintly, though his eyes remained closed.

“I told you!” Lee cried, throwing herself forward and onto him with a relieved sob. “He’s alive!”

***

Someone pounded desperately on Father’s door. He lifted his gaze from the scroll of Runes on his desk, his lips pressing thin. Father rose to his feet and walked over to his dresser, picking up a bottle of wine and pouring a glass.

He set it down on the desk, then returned to his chair and leaned back with a flick of his hand. The door ground open, and a bedraggled Inquisitor stumbled in. His eyes were bloodshot and his clothes were torn to shreds. Dozens of deep cuts covered his body that had only started to heal – the result of multiple fatal injuries that were still in the process of recovering from a powerful healing potion.

The door ground shut behind the Inquisitor.

“You look ill, my good man,” Father said, gesturing to the chair across from him. “Please, sit. Was the demon a difficult target? I did not believe a Rank 2 would cause you any difficulty.”

“Damn the demon. It was weak enough that my Imbuements could force it out of hiding,” the Inquisitor replied, coughing into his fist. He staggered over to the chair and dropped into it, letting out a rattling wheeze. “It was the big man traveling with him that nearly took me down.”

Father’s face didn’t even twitch. “Forgive me prying after such a harrowing experience, but how did you find this place? I was under the impression that the calls were secret.”

“I needed a place to rest,” the Inquisitor replied, bracing his hands against his knees and grimacing. “They are secret, but the Inquisitors know where it originated from in case you were in direct danger. Fear not. My prayer beads would have warned me if there was a demonic presence here. You are safe.”

“Of course,” Father said, bowing his head slightly. “I was unaware that the marbles had such a property. Fascinating.”

“It is one of our closest guarded secrets. I should not have said. I will need your aid. My fellow Inquisitor is still back fighting the demon. If that monster of a man finds him, I fear he may fall.”

“We will move to aid him post haste,” Father promised. “But you are in no shape to fight.”

“I will do what I must.” The Inquisitor drew a rattling breath and let it out slowly. “Do you have a potion? I need to heal these injuries, but I used the rest of mine in a fight.”

“Please,” Father said, gesturing to the cup of wine on the table. “I always keep a drought ready for the worst occasions.”

The Inquisitor let out a relieved sigh and grabbed the goblet, tipping it back into his mouth and drinking greedily. He set the goblet down and shook his head, gripping the armrests of the chair tightly.

“I feel better already. Thank you. We were not prepared for such a threat. I did not know warriors like that existed at his rank. The demon’s allies are powerful indeed. I–”

The Inquisitor trailed off. A frown crossed his features. He swallowed, then blinked. His hands shot up to his throat, clutching at it as blood bubbled up from between his lips and started to pour down his chin.

Father watched silently as the Inquisitor thrashed, desperately gasping for breath but only choking on blood instead. His struggles lasted less than a minute before he crumpled to the ground, dead.

“And, for once, the poison works as it’s meant to,” Father said, rising to his feet. “My apologies, Inquisitor. It was a tragedy to hear that you fell fighting the demon. If Brayden survived your attack, then he has already killed your compatriot – and I can’t have any loose ends.”

The door opened and Janice stepped inside, not even blinking at the body on the floor.

“The Inquisitors met an unfortunate end at the hands of a demon,” Father said. “Please retrieve any other summoning marbles that we had for the Inquisitors and properly store them so that they are never broken.”

“Yes, Father.” Janice turned to leave.

“And, Janice?”

Janice looked back at him.

“Why was Brayden fighting together with Vermil? I believe I gave you very strict instructions to tell him to stay out of it.”

“I did, Father. I warned him that there would be trouble on the road, and that he should wait several days to make sure everything was properly prepared before leaving, and that he should ensure he does not interfere in anything that happens. He departed earlier than he was meant to.”

Father’s eyebrow’s knit together. “I see. When Brayden returns, discover exactly what the miscommunication was. I would have preferred to call on higher Ranked hunters, but there was no way to call for a Rank 5 without drawing too much attention to ourselves. They should have been sufficient, but even I did not account for Brayden’s interference. I suppose we shall see how the dice roll. There are always other options, and we must determine our next course of action.”