Chapter 97: A Necessary Release

Chapter 97: A Necessary Release

The stadium echoed back and forth, the roaring sea of a song washing away the rage. It would come back. It always came back. But for now, the sea of grief brought everyone together. For now, in the brilliant afternoon light, they were all fans of a beautiful game. For now, they came together to mourn two heroes.

The six surviving players came together. Jerseys were stripped off and turned into a litter to carry Gionne’s body off the field. Two players joined hands to make a seat for Raffe. There was a terrible stillness when the song ended. The crowd watched Raffe’s ruined face, blood pouring from his mouth and eyes, as the players marched to the end of the pitch. Dame Berhane came fluttering down, lowering the wall and raising a triumphal arch.

“People of Siphios. All those in the stands today here at Old Mek’elle. Everyone who loves this beautiful, mad, holy game of ours. RAISE A CHEER!”

The crowd screamed back. They roared and shouted and stomped their feet. Spellwork trumpets were blown, and blizzards of rocketing colors shot across the pitch. People hammered on the railing. Hammered on the benches. Hammered on their chests. Old Mek’elle shook with emotion. Jember and Etenesh were right there with them, shouting out their fear, their hurt. Shouting out all the frustration of watching their people make dumb decision after dumb decision and being helpless to stop them.

Screaming out their grief because while the crowd might not have spotted Gionne’s suicidal determination, they sure saw what Raffe did. That kind of penitential mutilation wasn’t something the triumphant hero did. The crowd understood.

“That’s not ok. That’s fucked up,” Truth thought to himself, mocking his old mantra. Like the crowd realizing that this bloodlust they shared wasn’t healthy. Wasn’t ok.Ñøv€l-B1n was the first platform to present this chapter.

A chant of “One Siphios!” broke out across the stadium, and Truth reckoned that was their cue to leave. He didn’t know what it would be like on the streets today and wasn’t much interested in finding out. He coughed repeatedly to get the cousins’ attention.

“We should go. We need to go. Right now, everyone is happy and feeling big emotions. I don’t know about later.” Also, catching a stray spell someone let off to celebrate would kill you just as dead as a deliberately aimed one.

There was resistance, but he managed to gently chivvy them out. The hallways were empty. Even the gameday staff had been pulled into the cheering. He could feel it still- alienated by culture and being on the wrong side of the cement walls, but still there. That furious engine of emotion. The explosive release of rage converted into ecstasy as it left the body. The thunder of spells. Yes, if it hadn’t happened already, someone was going to die of a “celebratory misfire” today. The cousins seemed to agree, patting protective amulets and making sure their talismans were at hand.

Truth plowed into the loose crowds outside the stadium. People had watched the highlights on enormous projections over the pavement and splashed against the sides of buildings. The mood was one of grief, yes, but of relief too. People were gathering around Old Mek’elle with bouquets of flowers, leaving pebbles, leaving hastily scribbled cards and notes and tributes. Gathering in prayer and vigil.

Truth gave the vigil groups a hard eye. Something felt wrong. But they looked fine. But they felt wrong. Truth drew on Incisive and was almost overwhelmed. Threats? The whole damn stadium area was threats. Everyone was one Extra Spicy Plantain Chip from an inferno. Why were the vigil groups worrying him so much? They were basically just hugging and crying.

Truth pushed the cousins away from the stadium in the general direction of the Temple. Worst case, they could just run back. It would take a while, but it was doable. Sooner or later, they could hail a carpet. Just what was freaking him out?

Next to one of the vigil groups, he saw a rough-looking young man in a long coat. Tense. Something in his eyes. Hard to say. He was dozens of meters away and blending with the crowd.

Blasts of infernal flame slammed into the screaming crowd. It had only been seconds; people were still trying to process what was happening. The demons drew lines of fire; reds tinged with black that stuck like tar to flesh. Bright purple-white beams sliced apart people and lives alike. All lives were equal before the fire. And equally lost.

Truth pressed on, desperate to close the portal fast. Pushing through the flames when he had to. The longer those demons were killing, the longer the portal would stay open. The more demons, the greater the risk to the cousins. The bodies. Etenesh and Jember. Not the bodies. Etenesh and Jember.

The holy blade swept past, trailing fog behind it. Truth was finally feeling the difference his stats were making. Not in a good way. The demons were mostly Level Three or Four. The Level Threes he felt he could manage. The Level Fours, combined with all the lesser demons, were impossible. He could see the spells coming. Knew exactly how to dodge the brilliant lances of plasma.

His body just couldn’t keep up. Speed. He had been told repeatedly he needed to improve it. The beams slashed by, searing him. Truth kept moving, being elusive. When he could, he would parry an attack with the blade. It didn’t often work. Still, he pressed in. He had a job to do. Destroy the portal. Everything else was just something to manage.

He had no idea how he looked. The tall Desrin warrior, holy blade in hand, charging into the demons and protecting the panicking civilians. Unconcerned with his life or pain. Like a spell-blade from a storybook.

The demons weren’t stupid. Some went high or to the sides, while others just planted themselves in front of the portal. Sooner or later, the mortal would slip. Everyone did. Especially if you set them on fire first. The net of fire tightened in on Truth. No matter how fast he juked and dodged, the flames burned away flesh. Set fire to fabric. Made the air so hot he could hardly breathe.

But he had a job to do, so he pressed in. The closer he got, the more he could try and deflect the flames into other demons. It didn’t hurt them, but he hoped it would push them out of position. It was... less than a success. He knew he needed a change in strategy.

The Meditations wouldn’t help him with over-level demon flame. Tool was up and running. Incisive was too, and he was leaning hard into the foresight. Merkovah was right about the energy draw. His channels weren’t burning yet, but he was feeling the strain.

The only thing left was to cut. These demons might be stronger than him, but they were nothing before Botis. Fuck it. Sheets of flame were coming at him now, hemming him in. Daring him to try and jump over. Truth took an explosive step forward and swung down. The blade roared its holy words in ecstasy, cleansing the infernal taint from the world. And Incisive? Incisive cut.

For the barest moment, he had a clear line to a Level-Three demon. He pushed every scrap of strength he could from his legs. Everything. Everything! He was at the demon’s chest- he cut! The demon fell, howling as blessed frost destroyed its material shell. The flames were washing in from all sides now. He had a second, maybe less. He cut a demon’s leg, smashed it to the side, and was at the portal. Incisive whispered where to cut. Truth raised the angelic blade and smashed it down on the portal.

The world went white. Truth was exploded backward, and he went with it. His body was in rough shape already- anything that got him away from the demons was a good thing. He could feel The Tongue of One Who Speaks For God vibrating with satisfaction. The blade was tougher than he was. It was raring to go again. Truth just wanted to stay alive long enough to join up with Etenesh and Jember.

The demons were shrieking in rage. Their time was now far more limited, and they knew it. A giant red serpent with iridescent feathered wings rose, spitting fury and flame alike. Its every scale and feather was a wisp of a fire burning in Hell. It fixed its six burning eyes on Truth. Truth checked his condition. Covered in burns. Bleeding. Some ribs were broken from the blast. Exhausted. His channels ached from heavy use.

The smart thing to do would be to run. Run, and hope the demons focused on the easy prey around them. The next best thing to do would be to find cover. But he was in a plaza outside a stadium. Not much in the way of cover. He raised the holy blade up, squaring up to the flaming serpent. Can’t run. Can’t hide. Then he would fight!