Savilar Laurent, First Sword of the Church of Goddess, and Rift Hunter of Viridus, stepped into Potentia for only the second time in his long life. The Church was very strict about visiting the sister world, believing that corruption was inevitable with sufficient exposure. As such, the red landscape around Savilar was familiar, but only from the blurred scenes he’d witnessed through the countless now-sealed rifts.
Part of his training as a young man had meant coming through to this world, but that had been in a ‘safe’ place, secured on this side by the Church. He’d only been here long enough to gain an understanding of what they fought against, and get a vague impression of the terrible world.
Now he was back, hunting an Assassin from Terra.
Savilar’s skin still burned from Bishop’s trap, and he felt like a fool for wearing the so-called protective amulet. But the boy had gifted them to everyone on the team, and Savilar had been understandably distracted. At the time, he was not only as curious as everyone else about what had sent a flood of demons outside the city, but he was also planning how he could kill Bishop without the rest of the team realizing it.
Savilar hadn’t wanted to murder the boy, though he didn’t pretend that meant much. The Holy City had demanded it, claiming the young Chosen was a danger to the Balance. The integrity of the Balance was everything. Savilar suspected that High Priestess Abigail had spent considerable political capital toward this particular stance, but the First Sword refused to get caught up in such things.
He’d lived a long life, full of difficult decisions, and he could only be at peace with them by embracing his role. He felt the Sword of Souls at his side, and again reminded himself of how alike they were. Savilar was just another sword that belonged to the Church, ultimately only existing to serve the Balance, and keep the three worlds separate–the way they belonged.
With a glance down at the rust colored soil he spotted Bishop’s tracks, and began to follow. He’d painfully wished he could just abandon the boy to the demons of this world, but there were simply too many rifts to take that chance. Bishop was a stealth specialist that could teleport; he would only need to survive a few days at most before he managed to find a way back, and with so many of the Church’s secrets on his lips.
And so Savilar Hunted his prey.
He’d barely begun the Hunt when terrible sounds assaulted his ears. He hastily climbed a nearby hill, and his eyes widened inside his white helm as he saw the source of the noise.
Familiars. Champion rank, and fighting.
This was bad. Far worse than anything else that may have happened today. Worse than a missing Healing monster, worse than the Church’s secrets potentially getting out. Because those weren’t just monsters or demons. They were Legendary Guardians.
The Chosen were at war.
Savilar broke into a sprint, following Bishop’s trail by instinct as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. He knew that the situation in the Holy City was tense, and that Chosen had died recently, but he’d never imagined it had reached a breaking point. Did the Church leadership know? Had they ordered the loyal Chosen to war?
He was getting no answers today, but Savilar now had one more reason to move as quickly as possible. He stormed forward, pushing his late Dusk body after the illusive Assassin. He soon moved into one of the horrible corrupted forests, and drew the golden blade to ensure he never slowed.
The trees were just another type of demon, and their branches reached for him, toxic sap dripping. The sword flashed out occasionally as he moved, and Savilar could only be grateful that the strength of magic in Potentia tended to mirror Nexum. These trees were Dawn rank, and posed little threat to him as he barely slowed. Spotting some torn white cloth on a nearby limb, he smiled at seeing it hadn’t been so easy for Bishop.
Savilar could feel the slope of the land rising beneath his feet, and wasn’t surprised that his target had taken to the mountains. The man could both climb and teleport, and likely believed he had the advantage in the peaks. It may be true, but Bishop didn’t know what the First Sword was truly capable of.
As soon as he broke free of the forest, Savilar began to travel in massive leaps, scaling the mountain at a remarkable pace. When he reached sheer rock, he threw his body straight up, then dug his sword into the stone to catch himself. By now his Dusk Spirit could sense the trail better than his eyes could follow it, and he moved more and more recklessly.
That led to his first unexpected encounter. Savilar landed on a ledge, surprised to see a group of insectoid demons feasting on one of their own number. There were nearly a dozen of the creatures, which looked like ants, and as one they turned to attack him. Savilar growled, intending to simply jump past them–before he made the unfortunate discovery that they could fly.
Suddenly he was swatting at the torso-sized demons, needing to knock them back so he could finish them with his sword. Still, it was easily done–if irritating–and he was back to scaling the mountain moments later, though now he was covered in the gore of giant dead insects.
Savilar felt like he was gaining on his target by the time he was two thirds of the way up the mountain. It had only taken a quarter of an hour to scale this high, and his senses told him that Bishop had been here recently. There was a disturbance to the magic of the place that spoke of a foreign power passing through, and Savilar had Hunted with less.
He soon stopped again, however, when he found another dead demon. It was some kind of red lizard, and it had obviously been hastily slain. Either Bishop knew that Savilar was closing in on him, and didn’t see the point in disguising his trail, or–
Savilar jumped back when a stinger as large as his arm snapped toward him. The First Sword drew his weapon, then examined the demon that had clearly been attracted to the bait Bishop had left. He had to actively stop himself from gagging. The creature looked like a cross between a giant scorpion and a thick-legged spider–though it had easily two dozen hairy legs rather than eight. A large tail curled behind it, and it had the pincers of a scorpion as well, but it was the head that truly disgusted him. It was like a bear’s, but split vertically down the middle, and it snapped open and shut hungrily.
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It was the worst thing Savilar had ever seen.
Rage and disgust combined as his sword lashed out. The weapon was capable of much, but burned through the power of the souls trapped within, so Savilar relied on his Bonded abilities instead. Blasts of holy light came forth, tearing through legs and stinger alike, though the beast counter-attacked with unexpected speed and ferocity.
Still, Savilar managed to make quick work of the creature, although it left him covered in yet more sticky demon blood, and far angrier than before. The damned child thought to toy with him. Well, Bishop was running out of mountain, and Savilar wasn’t running out of power. Full of rage and determination, he resumed his climb with even greater speed.
Finally he neared the peak, his patience exhausted and his sword hungry. He knew the boy had been this way, having passed two more of the demon traps. But now Savilar had to be catching up. He found himself walking along a narrow path that sloped uncomfortably toward the edge of the long drop. His eyes were drawn to the terrible battle in the distance, and he could only shake his head in disbelief as the enormous Familiars tore into one another.
The small trail seemed to circle the mountain, and Savilar decided to give Bishop a chance at a sliver of honor. “I’m here, Ethan! Fight me like a Hunter! You trained in dueling with the prince himself, don’t die slaughtered like a monster.”
His own words echoed back to him as he continued forward, but nothing else. He was already guarding his back for the predictable stealth attack, but frankly he was surprised that the man wasn’t at least talking. He never seemed to shut up, and Savilar had expected accusations, or gloating, or at least insults. Instead there was eerie silence.
At last the trail ran out, but Savilar noticed a small square of paper pinned to the stone by a dagger, and shook his head. Reluctantly he reached out and took it, though he hastily tossed the blade aside, wary of another trap. Unfolding the note, he quickly read it.
Dear Traitor,
While you wasted your time up here, I jumped back down the mountain. Your Church’s secrets won’t be secrets anymore by the time you catch up.
I recommend prozac in these challenging times.
Farewell,
Doctor Ethan Bishop
Savilar felt his face heat up with rage. He’d been angry, maybe blinded by that anger. He’d thought he was so fast, such a capable Hunter, and those damned Chosen were so distracting! Had he really let that fool escape?
Finally his rage overflowed.
“BISHOP!” he roared into the sky, and once more drew the Sword of Souls. He’d use its power to beat the boy back to the rift. He’d catch the Assassin before he could–did the mountain just move?
***
Ethan, nearby and well hidden, watched with fascination as the enormous stone gorilla detached itself from the peak of the mountain. It was the same type that he’d named ‘King Koncrete’ on his first visit, and he’d been very happy to be proven correct in spotting the camouflaged creature from the ground.
This time he could see that the demon was actually Twilight rank, and despite being fairly slow, the enormous stone hand that gripped the white knight was obviously tremendously powerful.
Ethan had accidentally awoken one of these terrible predators on his first journey through potentia. A scorpiursi had elicited a very understandable scream from a terrified doctor from Earth, and he’d been hoping to duplicate the experience for Savilar. He’d even helped the process along by ensuring the man was half-drenched in demon blood.
As the stone beast brought the struggling Rift Hunter toward its mouth, Ethan considered that he was lucky the note had been irritating enough to make his former teammate scream in fury. Ethan was prepared to wake up the massive demon himself, but that could have gotten messy. Now all he had to do was sit back and watch the show.
When the massive stone hand abruptly tightened its grip, causing blood to leak through its fingers, Ethan found watching to be harder than he’d have liked. Savilar was an executioner for the Church, and Ethan had witnessed him kill firsthand, but he was also Valanor’s brother. Part of him wished the situation was a little less gray.
Those thoughts disappeared as the balled fist completed its journey to the gorilla-like stone face. Abruptly, golden light burst to life from within, causing the demon to recoil. As Ethan watched the display, he was reminded of the technique Savilar had once used to bring down a Dusk rank gigas, and he suspected he knew what was about to occur.
The glowing blade burst free of the tight grip, and its light grew brighter and brighter, until a beam of energy extended a few dozen feet into the air. It came down with brutal inevitability, leaving a burning trail in Ethan’s vision as it sliced right through the Twilight monster, cleanly cutting it into two halves.
It happened so quickly that the great demon wasn’t even able to roar in pain. Its gargantuan stone body simply fell apart, tumbling and crashing down the mountain. The fist holding Savilar fell back down to the narrow path, shattering and revealing the executioner–or what was left of him.
Ethan dropped to the path as well, leaving the small alcove where he’d been hiding in stealth. He slowly walked toward the bloody form of the Church’s executioner, emotion raging within.
Savilar was still alive, already squirming and trying to get his feet under him. The man had to be near the end of Dusk rank to have survived, though the armor was crushed and bent, and stained as red as the now ragged cloak.
The brutalized man pried his broken helmet off, then tossed it aside while spitting out blood. When he saw Ethan he glared, then forced himself to stand, obviously struggling to find some dignity.
“More tricks,” he said, then coughed, his free hand clutching his ribs. “I should have known, should have been thinking, but…” his eyes shifted past Ethan, to the battle between Champions.
“Understandably distracted,” Ethan acknowledged in a flat voice. With a quick gesture, he drew Sanguin Flame from his inventory.
Sanguine Flame [Twilight Rank, Sealed] Epic Quality
(Attention: Much of the blade’s power is inaccessible when wielded by someone of less than Twilight Rank)
Special Effect: [Sanguine Flame]
This Katana can be made to burn with the blood fires of a demonic black dragon of Potentia. These fires are almost impossible to put out through normal means, and can burn through almost anything. The wielder is immune to [Sanguine Flame] while the sword is drawn.
Ethan had quietly looted the katana from the Twilight dragon they’d faced, pleasantly surprised to find such an unlikely weapon. It made him wonder whether he was affecting the loot produced somehow, as he hadn’t seen this type of blade other than the one he’d inherited from Tomo’s Master. This sword was slightly shorter than Last Resort, and likewise had much of its power locked away for a Dawn rank like Ethan. But not all.
The blade burst alight with hungry green fire.
Savilar looked from the sword, to Ethan’s expressionless face, and let out a small laugh. “You have no idea what my weapon is capable of, Bishop. You should never have revealed yourself; maybe you would have had a chance if you’d used your stealth attacks on me.” With great effort he heaved his golden sword up into a weak defense, and it began to glow once again.
“It didn’t feel like a proper end,” Ethan replied. “Stabbing a man lying in his own blood. But perhaps you’re right about my stealth attacks. Let’s see what we can do about that.” Lifting Sanguin Flame before him in two hands, Ethan played his final card.
“Avatar of Ruin.”