Chapter 250 - Will It Never End?

Somehow, Lenton ejected Jiran from the synapse early. He popped into reality a fraction of a second before Lenton, who was now considerably closer to the final showdown with Andross. The old man turned his face enough for Jiran to see half a smug grin, then he was racing through the skies.

Wear that smile all you want, we'll see who's laughing when you need me to disable his bones. 

Mana Omnis gave him a good read on their reserves. The two rankers from earlier were limping through the air toward the process heading out of the city. The remaining two, and Lenton, were close to thirty percent, while Andross was about the same.

There's no way he can win against Lenton, right?

Jiran sighed, annoyed the thought managed to worm its way into one of his minds. Resigned to everything going to shit at any moment, he crossed his legs and closed his eyes.

Stretching out with his aura, he mapped the nearby framework before sending strings of mana zinging outward. He controlled each tendril with exacting detail, wringing the ambient density from the air and adding it to Armament. After gathering what was within reach, he relocated higher into the air and started the process over again.

The battle was progressing as anticipated. Another of the rankers was out of the fight. The few nearby tier eights who had wrapped up with the last of the guards carried the man toward the tail end of the survivors.

An ache in Jiran's gut demanded he check on his friends, and especially confirm that Mayalyn and Olive were safe. He didn't like how good Mayalyn’s new obfuscation was at hiding her from him. By this point, she could be anywhere and he wouldn't have a clue.

I'm going to hit her with gaze the next time I see her. Should have done that before we separated.

He did the next best thing, activating Gaze of Pediamus on the retreating tier eights. While the rest of him sapped density from the air, he put half of one of his minds to work looking through their eyes as they approached the column.

He couldn't remember seeing a more sorry bunch. Half-clothed, bedraggled, injured and limping, they supported one another, slowly making their way northwest. The city wall loomed above them, but one of its gates was open and an Imperial princess who looked dead on her feet was ushering her people through.

The armor he made her was nowhere to be seen. Her dress was in tatters, barely protecting her modesty. Charred hair framed a face pocked with burns, cuts, and lesions. One of her arms was limp at her side, the other pulled a woman in worse condition up a collapsed pile of bricks.

Jiran couldn't remember her ever looking more beautiful than she did at that exact moment. She was the picture of sacrifice and dedication, a leader to her bones. She looked directly at him, his heart skipping a beat. when she called out, and he couldn't hear her voice, he remembered he was looking through the eyes of another. He watched for a few more seconds, not spotting Mayalyn, Cameron, or Niya.

Probably scouting and protecting the front of the column from beasts. 

He moved again, nearing a densoon cloud that was ever so slowly accumulating energy. He sucked it dry, doing his best to analyze the fight that was now entirely between Lenton and Andross. The last ranker—the woman he’d helped with the dagger—was nowhere to be seen. He hoped she was alive, though the chances weren’t good. Andross was on his last legs, Lenton hounding him relentlessly, or at least it looked that way from the few glimpses he caught of them.

Knowing he would be needed soon, Jiran stealthed and crept toward that half of the city. The moment they appeared and didn’t immediately vanish again, Jiran sped up. Lenton held the cardinal in a giant fist of lightning. The currents held him still, but did little to harm him. They spoke too quickly for him to hear, and for the first time in Jiran’s life, he found himself wanting to hear the villain's monologue.

There has to be a reason why the evil bastard did so much harm to the empire. He’s been in control of the church for centuries. His teachings directly influenced my mother to try and kill me. Lenton took me from Feylon for fear of the church, of Andross, finding me. The villages wiped out around Mortan because the voicers withdrew early can also be laid on his head. That’s not even counting the untold numbers of kidnapped children, experimented on to raise his Templari.

He’s personally responsible for both times I’ve been collared. Now, I don’t even get to hear his final words? No… Screw this. I need some closure and he’s going to give it to me.

Jiran Teleported, appearing close enough that he could hear. A sizable chunk of the mana he’d gathered was drained by his aspect, which whipped outward to surround them all in blistering cold. Their movements slowed, and Oneness gave him the last boost he needed to comprehend Andross’s words.

His actions were unnecessary as Andross slowed his speech for Jiran’s benefit, “Jiran of Feylon, you’re finally here. How I’ve yearned to kill you with my own hands.” The skin of his face blistered and peeled, only to instantly regenerate, “My life's work, ended by a child that defies all the logic of this world. Truly, the abominations and you were meant for each other!” He snarled the last, struggling with an outstretched hand to reach him.

The last wisp of green mana in his body raced through the air. Jiran had been ready for it, watching the little glob of green energy with most of his minds. It smashed into his armor, seeping through to find a wall of Mana Venom waiting for it. With a hiss, the mana and taint were separated, the former joining Armament, the later dripping to the ground far below.

“I curse you for a thousand generations! Your end will be vile! Brought low by treachery, a knife in the back and the hands of your lover around your throat!”

Jiran hovered closer, his aspect condensing and squeezing around the insensate man until his limbs were sapped of strength. Too-wide eyes streaked with throbbing red veins matched the drool and blood leaking from his lips. Jiran shook his head, finding both more and less than what he wanted.

With a swift motion, he roughly grasped the cardinal's forehead. Mana Confluence and Mana Venom invaded his body, finding their way inside the alien bones. He left enough venom inside to turn the cardinal’s thoughts blurry. He withdrew and nodded to Lenton.

Lenton imperiously gazed down at the slumped man, “Andross Ruwhen. For your crimes against our sacred Finlest Empire and its people, I condemn you to death. May your name be remembered, lest our descendents repeat your mistakes.” With a snap of Lenton’s fingers, Andross was surrounded by a sphere of flames that rapidly shrank, burning him to nothing.

Before either could draw a breath to sigh, the ground rumbled. Far to the southeast, in the direction of the undead hordes, millions of bolts of jade lightning filled the sky and turned the clouds an all too familiar sickly green. A mass of thunder rumbled, distorting the air with power backed by sinister, bestial intent. As if alive, the lightning took the shape of a massive skeletal skull. Its bony jaw gaped wide and a seething wall of mist shot forth to cover the land.

The massive wall standing between the undead and Sanctum Santorum shook to its foundations. The innumerable beasts on the far side began emitting light that filled the air, reflecting from the sky in hues of radiant emerald.

Lenton cursed beside Jiran, his voice drowned out by thunder that formed bone-shattering words, “The truce is broken.”

The portion of Jiran’s minds observing his ice heart noticed the little demon trapped inside going berserk. He grit his teeth, understanding coming too late to make a difference, “Andross was possessed by that thing. A lot of them were.” Lenton chewed on his words while Jiran fed mana into Gaze of Pediamus.

[Burgheist Defiler: (Tier 10 - Semi Sapient - Unevolved - Malice) (Threat - Extreme) (Health - Unknown, Abilities - Possession / Mana Corruption / Distant Manipulation / Unknown]

Jiran sighed, weary to his core after the constant high-stakes fighting, “It’s tier ten and if its mana touches you, you lose. Well, good luck!” Jiran waved to Lenton and turned to leave. The old man appeared at his side, gripping his arm. “Joking, joking. Here,” Most of Jiran’s mana flowed into his old mentor for the third time that day.

“Thank you, Jiran. I’ll take it from here. All I ask is you get as many out as you can,” Lenton squeezed his arm. He wore a brave face, staring down a cataclysmic monstrosity with his chin high.

Jiran shook his head, “I’ll pass. I really was joking. I’m not letting you face that thing alone. When you’re out of mana, come find me.”

“If you insist. I cannot fathom what makes you believe I need any help for such a trifling matter.”

Their eyes met, and both laughed the laugh of men knowing they were marching toward their deaths. Lenton flew high, angling toward the lightning far away while Jiran took the low path, aiming for the top of the wall.

Before he arrived, a bolt of lightning from the skeletal maw struck the fortification, blasting a gaping hole in its side. Beyond, he got his first look at the undead. Regardless of their tier, they had sickly skin covered in pus-filled cysts. Protruding bones jutted from their bodies, creating misshapen spikes that protected thick, muscular bodies. The lower tiers were stout, four legged beasts like the ones Andross unleashed on the city. The higher the tier, the larger and more menacing they appeared.

A quick scan didn’t find any above the seventh tier, and of those there were precious few scattered throughout the horde. There were a truly unfathomable number of the creatures. They flooded the land from the wall to the horizon, looking all too similar to the Graymin for Jiran’s taste. Worst of all was how each ones’ mana glowed a sickly green.

“I’d be perfectly fine not seeing that color for a month after this,” Jiran grumbled, diving toward the fissure in the wall. With only a scrap of mana remaining, he had no other alternative than diving straight into the mass of squirming flesh. The beasts tore at one another, eager to be the first inside.

Jiran landed feet first into the only tier seven anywhere near the gap. Its protruding bones crunched and snapped beneath his armored boots. He shoved his gauntlet into its chest, directly into the largest clump of mana. Mana Confluence, Mana Venom, and Enthralling Touch worked in tandem, shaping, cleansing, and absorbing what he could from the creature.

Easily five meters tall, it swiped a large disfigured paw at the pesky bug draining its vital energies. Jiran withdrew his arm and ducked, a burst of aura tossing the surrounding lower-tier beasts into the air. The paw swept through them, blasting their bodies into wrecks of putrid gore. Enthralling Touch pulled at the remnants of their mana, gathering it into a ball that hovered over his shoulder.

He left the tier seven for now, its mana too low to be worth further effort. Teleporting back to the breach, Jiran threw his arms wide. Elemental Castigation released dual jets of water that shot high into the air, reaching the top of the wall. The air cracked, releasing a frigid wind as he willed the liquids’ molecules to still. With a fresh wall of ice blocking their advance, the mass of beasts turned on him with furious vengeance.

Only a few made it through before he managed to block their advance. Unfortunately, he had no time to stop them with so many more barreling down on him. He met the monsters with a roar. His aura crushed the weakest. Those too sturdy to be easily dispatched met mana-efficient blades of ice and fire. 

Each kill added to the growing ball of sickly mana at his shoulder. Within it, Mana Venom worked tirelessly to keep it cleansed. Eventually, enough was gathered that Jiran pulled it into his chest plate, burning most of it to create a new filtering formation packed with the most potent venom he could form. With its completion, the true battle could begin.

With grim acceptance, Jiran stared down millions of hungry, dead eyes.