The Storm King

“Tiraeses, how are you doing?” Leon asked, both men standing in the rune Leon had carved, their eyes wild and jumping from shadow to shadow. The horde may have pulled back, but that didn’t mean they were safe.

“The brothers of war, Valiant Ashatar and Strong Ashagon, strode with me this day,” Tiraeses replied, which Leon took to mean he was fine.

“If you don’t mind, ask them if they’ll walk with us for a little longer yet,” Leon responded. He was then rudely interrupted by the roaring of what sounded like a titanic beast deeper in the city, though as the sound died, he continued like nothing had happened. “We’ll take a minute or two to catch our breath and then proceed.”

“As you say.” Tiraeses then took Leon’s instruction a little more literally than had been intended and kneeled to silently pray. Leon kept a silent vigil, his eyes locked on the taller structures closer to the heart of Yu Nok Tor. The darkness-clad cultists were still watching them; he could practically feel their eyes upon him. The darkness permeating the plane, despite the rune he’d carved, still stuck to him too, leaving him feeling rather unclean.

‘Should’ve used that twig earlier,’ he ruminated. ‘Maybe it would’ve worked back in the monastery. Maybe…’ He cut himself off. There wasn’t much use crying over spilled milk; he could linger on his mistakes later. For now, he had to focus only on finding some way off the plane, some way to reach Tell Kirin, some way to maybe, just maybe, find out what was happening there and stop it.

[Hey Xaphan,] Leon called out to his soul realm. [Ancestor. Any ideas what I’ll be facing?]

[The closer we get, the more this feels like a power siphon,] Xaphan confirmed. [Do you remember the channeler we once encountered?]

Leon grimaced—he remembered the channeler all too well. A sacrificed human being, chained and broken beneath the arena of Andalus, capital of the Cortuban Alliance. The arena, when Leon had been there, had been built to funnel the power of the gladiators within it down to the channeler, where it would then be transferred to the demon at the other end—and that demon had been Amon, Leon had learned. The arena, a place where the masses were meant to be entertained by blood sports, had been subverted into one giant ritual circle, where every drop of blood shed upon its sands would have its power stolen, for Amon’s gain.

[Yes,] he answered.

[This is a more powerful version,] Xaphan quietly responded. [I never used channelers myself, but I know the magic involved. This is… older and stronger, but still recognizable. You should brace yourself, though, because I don’t know exactly what kind of fuckery you’re going to see at the end of this, even if I can identify its purpose.]

[Dead people would be a safe bet,] the Thunderbird stated. [Power like this—transferred from one being to another over a great distance—can rarely be accomplished without using another being as some kind of medium.]

[How does that work, exactly?] Leon asked.

[My dear ambitious boy!] the Thunderbird exclaimed. [You’re not thinking of making one for yourself, are you?]

From her tone, Leon couldn’t tell if she was impressed or disgusted. ‘Teasing, at the very least…’

[No,] he replied. [But knowing how it works may make it easier to break.]

[Lightning will break it,] the Thunderbird confidently stated. [And if that doesn’t work, then just apply more until it does.]

Despite the bleak surroundings, Leon had to fight not to break out laughing. [I suppose that’s as good a plan as any: blast the problem with lightning until the problem no longer exists.]

[That method, I’ve found, works for any problem you can think of,] the Thunderbird proudly added. [Lightning is the world’s greatest problem-solver.]

[Fire works better, Pigeon,] Xaphan loudly muttered, and Leon felt a quick expression of power in his soul realm, followed by a pained grunt from the former Lord of Flame.

[Care to revise that assessment?] the Thunderbird asked.

[Fuck… no,] Xaphan coughed.

[Hm. Looks like you’re going to need more discipline. Leon, I trust that you have all of this under control. I’ll be here if you need me, but this insolent demon needs to be taught.]

[Don’t maim him permanently,] Leon joked.

[Traitor!] Xaphan shouted, though without too much bite.

[I make no promises,] the Thunderbird responded with altogether far too much seriousness.

Leon spared his soul realm a quick glance, curiosity and concern getting the better of him. However, he noted that the Thunderbird’s punishment wasn’t that extreme, mostly involving annoying Xaphan with lightning, though fortunately not doing much of any damage to the demon. The greater damage was likely done to his pride, as the demon couldn’t stop even these relatively weak bolts from breaking through his defenses.

So long as they didn’t harm each other permanently—or his Mind Palace—he didn’t mind them letting off a bit of steam and turned back to the matter at hand. A quick word was all that was needed to get Tiraeses back on his feet.

“Ready?” he asked the old monk.

“I am ready,” he replied. “And I believe the gods favor us this day. Let us back up my prayers with action.”

Leon nodded.

It wasn’t a straight shot to the center of the city, unfortunately, but the street before them was fairly long. Other than the drastic increase in darkness magic in the air, the street was as forlorn and abandoned as the city had been upon their arrival. But it was with all due caution that Leon and Tiraeses stepped out of the protection of the carved rune, relying once more only on their own magic, smaller enchantments, and in Leon’s case, armor. The street they stepped out onto was fairly wide, though no main thoroughfare.

Almost as soon as they stepped out from the ancient rune’s protection, the wind picked up, and Leon could sense it wasn’t natural. He readied himself for combat, Tiraeses doing likewise right beside him. However, though the hair on the back of his neck stood up, the wind didn’t increase in intensity or otherwise resemble any kind of attack.

With no small amount of disquiet, Leon and Tiraeses eventually got moving again, though with the wind now blowing constantly at what would’ve otherwise been a pleasant speed. They moved down the street at a fairly cautious clip, Leon noting as they went that the streets were growing dustier with every intersection they passed—or, as he quickly realized, ashier.

The buildings, likewise, were becoming less dilapidated, though none looking undamaged, all while the wind kept blowing.

Leon didn’t like it. It was too strange, too eerie. He grew more and more on edge with every step he took, and he could tell that Tiraeses, though the monk didn’t vocalize it, felt the same.

Finally, the tension broke. A voice, softer than a whisper, carried by the wind to their ears, pleaded, “No further…”

Leon froze, Iron Pride sparking with lightning in his hand, while Tiraeses’ neck almost snapped as he looked all around them, his fists glowing with light magic ready to slice any enemies either of them saw to pieces.

But nothing else happened. No husks leaped out from the shadows, no cultists appeared upon distant buildings, no flying monstrosities fell upon them. The wind blew, the ash whirled, and the buildings remained dark and silent.

‘Where did all those creatures go?’ Leon couldn’t help but wonder, noting also that the roaring of large-sounding creatures didn’t seem to be getting any nearer…

Again, the voice, almost lighter than the air that carried it, whispered, “They’re hunting! Hide!”

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“What is this…?” Leon asked aloud in a hushed tone.

With a quiet voice to match, Tiraeses replied, “By Wise Farangeun, I don’t know…”

“Run!” With that statement, the wind picked up, though not nearly enough to inconvenience either of them, throwing a large amount of street ash at them.

With a swish of his blade, Leon pushed all the ash away, overpowering the wind so easily he figured even a freshly ascended fifth-tier mage could’ve done the same.

“Leon…” Tiraeses whispered, “let’s get off the street… at least for a moment…”

Leon turned to answer and froze for a second.

Tiraeses had been looking all around them while Leon concentrated on what was ahead, yet the monk hadn’t said anything about this, nor had Leon picked up on it with his magic senses, leading Leon to think what he now beheld had sprung up only in the past few seconds…

Hundreds of ashen statues of people in the street, looking like they’d been frozen as they went about their day-to-day business. In fact, Leon thought they looked like people who’d been covered in ash, not ash sculpted into human shapes. Their faces were largely indistinct because of this, though all appeared to wear faint expressions of agony. More than a few had their mouths open in silent, unnerving screams.

Tiraeses’ hand clapped Leon’s shoulder, and when Leon glanced at the old monk, he found Tiraeses quietly staring ahead of them. More statues had appeared after Leon turned, all nearly identical. Hundreds of people going about their business, frozen in ash. Not one emitted a magical aura or gave any kind of discernable sign that they were alive or animate.

Without a word, Leon glanced at Tiraeses and agreed with his suggestion just a moment before; they darted off the street and into the nearest building.

It was a fairly nice-looking building, made of wood and stone that could’ve given the building a certain rustic charm had it been intact and untarnished by the Devil’s pollution. Once inside, Leon realized it was some kind of bar or restaurant, with booths along the outer wall where windows once were, and an actual bar on the other side, complete with wooden stools. There were no ashen statues, thankfully, but before Leon was able to relax, movement in the far corner caught his eye.

A human figure stood there, rubbing the bar’s counter with a rag that was barely more than rough scraps of fabric, stained dark gray from ash and unspeakable filth that might’ve accumulated. The figure resembled a husk, with a frame so emaciated that Leon couldn’t tell if it had been male or female, and its skin was blackened and mottled, as if dried and charred by dark magic. The figure had no hair upon its head nor any clothes upon its body, but it was little more than skin and bone anyway, with all softer parts of its body long gone. Most disturbingly was its face, with empty eye sockets, a missing nose and ears, and its lips shriveled and pulled back in a terrible, almost nauseating grin, showing off teeth as black as coal.

The figure seemed hardly to notice them, contenting itself with wiping the same spot on the counter over and over again. The spot had been worn down, indicating it had been there doing this for a while, its motions practically sanding down that one specific spot of the wooden counter, though Leon hadn’t noticed it through the windows or with his magic senses until entering the bar.

Barely a second passed between Leon and Tiraeses noticing the husk and it stopping its movement. Its head cricked and cracked as its eyeless face turned in their direction. Darkness magic in the bar spiked, and Leon moved.

The building shook from the thunder he summoned in his wake, but he didn’t want a repeat of their earlier retreat from the city; he took the husk’s head in one clean slice. Instead of collapsing, the husk’s body dissolved into black ash and seemed to disappear instead of adding to the ash already spilling into the bar from outside, leaving hardly any trace that it had been there at all, save for the worn-down spot on the counter where it had been endlessly wiping.

“Mothers Above and Below…” Tiraeses whispered in disgust and trepidation.

“Maybe… we just suck it up and continue…?” Leon said, deep unease settling into his stomach like a rock. “None of this is going to change while we wait. Let’s just keep moving…”

Tiraeses gritted his teeth and bowed slightly. Together, the two left the unsettling bar, only to find that all the ashen statues outside were now slightly different: their heads had all turned to face the bar, though their bodies hadn’t. Many of the statues had been facing away, leaving their heads twisted at unnatural and unnerving angles. Hundreds of eyeless faces confronted them, as if accusing them of some crime just committed.

Leon frowned as his heart rate spiked.

[I hope I didn’t sound too judgmental when discussing your strategy, Ancestor,] he said into his soul realm. Without waiting for a reply, he burst into action, Tiraeses following suit only a moment after him.

Leon charged forward so quickly that the ash beneath his feet practically exploded behind him. With thunder and lightning he shot through the ashen statues, his blade singing as lightning coursed through it and it cut through the statues. To Leon’s immense relief—and, to some degree, further disquiet—the statues were ash all the way through. He cleaved through not a single speck of flesh or bone.

By thunder and lightning, light and steel, Leon and Tiraeses mowed the statues down, and in only a few seconds, none were left standing. Once more, they were alone on the street.

“By all the hells,” Leon whispered after the deed was done, and not feeling any calmer. His eyes swiveled around, searching for the cause of all of this, yet finding nothing to latch onto. There didn’t appear to be any sign of anyone in their immediate vicinity doing anything magical… yet he knew there were ways to avoid detection.

Tiraeses said something, but Leon didn’t think it was specifically directed at him—sounded somewhat like a prayer, though he closed his eyes and focused on his magic senses, so he couldn’t tell for sure. He bathed their surroundings in his magic senses, searching for something, anything, that might explain this. Surely, there were a handful of cultists in nearby streets trying to manipulate them, trying to get them to turn around since their attempt at direct confrontation failed.

Leon concentrated on the shadows, reasoning that if there were any guiding hands nearby, they’d be hiding in darkness. However, on a five-story building only a few hundred feet further down the street, he found something rather curious: clinging to the side of the building over the street was a strange ‘gap’ in the air. His eyes didn’t see anything, but the wind peeled around it and no magic flowed through it. It was like there was some kind of hole there in the air…

‘Or something invisible is hiding itself… poorly,’

Leon pointed his blade at the spot as a frown spread across his helmeted face. A lightning bolt thick as his arm shot from the tip of Iron Pride and slammed into this empty space almost instantly, revealing it to be far more tangible than the emptiness implied.

A horrible shriek of pain filled the air as something appeared: a mass of dark, though not quite charred black, limbs and heads and glowing red eyes, all mashed together into some new, horrific creature that had Leon’s skin crawling. The creature fell to the ground, its dozen pairs of arms and equal number of legs thrashing about in pain as its body burned from Leon’s lightning. Its main body was wide and flat, almost like a plate, while stuck to it between every pair of arms was a human head—all male, all apparently from different men, all stuck on slightly differently giving the creature an awful sense of asymmetry, and all with glowing red eyes, as if their eyeballs had been replaced with red lanterns. Every one of the creature’s heads screamed its shrill, eardrum-piercing scream.

Leon didn’t think too long about it before he shot toward the creature. He felt darkness magic swirl around it right before he reached it, but he’d buried Iron-Pride almost to the hilt into the creature before it could even react to his charge.

Silver-blue lightning filled the creature, obliterating it from the inside out. Its shrieking rose in pitch and intensity for a moment before it went silent, Leon’s lightning and the sound of popping flesh the only things filling the air with sound. All of the creature’s eyes popped within half a second of each other, and blood poured from the sockets for the slightest of moments before Leon’s lightning charred the sockets dry. The limbs, already rather dark, blackened further before falling from the creature’s main body, as if whatever magic holding them there had dissipated under the pressure from Leon’s lightning. The heads followed suit a second later, leaving only the body circular, disc-like main body.

Leon ceased his blast and removed his sword. He took a few steps back to survey his work, noting the relative lack of features on the creature’s main body, and the distinct features of every head that had been stuck to it. He had a fairly strong stomach, but as the stench of charred meat filled the air, he felt his stomach grumble a bit in discontentment.

And then the creature’s main body shot twenty feet into the air. A long, straight slit on the bottom of the disc-shaped body that Leon hadn’t noticed split open, revealing a huge, inhuman, perfectly-symmetrical eye, glowing red and radiating power like almost nothing Leon had ever felt before. Even with his tenth-tier strength, he felt almost like an ant in the gaze of that eye, and it was more the Iron Needle than the muscles in his arm that raised his blade between himself and the eye. Leon heard something fall behind him, but he was transfixed by the gaze of the eye; he couldn’t turn away from it. It was only with his magic senses that he was able to see that Tiraeses had fallen to his knees, fear and fury warring for dominance on his face.

The eye focused, the red light shining from the pupil-less eye shone more intensely down upon Leon as power gathered, and silver-blue lightning raced through Leon’s body, unlocking his limbs and mind. The muscles in his legs tensed as lightning surged through them, readying him for another charge, but in the fraction of a second before he was about to leap at the eye, something huge fell from the sky and impaled the huge floating eye upon wide blades of blue light.

It was a massive golem—or so Leon immediately assumed. An armored body thirty feet tall, with powerful limbs and a thick chest and waist, though it still had a vaguely feminine shape to it. Its head was largely featureless, though still with the faint impression of human features, making it more human-like than Nestor’s head. A single blue eye glowed in the center of its ‘face’, and Leon could sense a tremendous amount of power flowing through the golem.

The golem and the eye crashed to the ground, and with a few more swings of its blue light blades, the golem cut the eye into several pieces, and Leon sensed the eye’s ‘death’, as all the body in the creature vanished—it didn’t burst out of its body and into the environment, as magic was wont to do when someone or something was killed, but rather the magic vanished, as if something had reclaimed it from far away.

Just behind Leon, Tiraeses shot back to his feet. Both he and Leon readied themselves for another fight, as even though the golem had just killed the eye, neither were feeling particularly charitable about its intentions…

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