Theft of Decks 4, CH 32

Productivity of camps F-H have improved by nearly twenty percent over the past year. We believe a multitude of reasons apply, yet our main theory lies in attributes. Lately, we have seen a larger percentage of mass and even hands being entered into the camps. Whatever the reason for this change, clearly the added attributes make up for the increased difficulty in ensuring their co-operation. We recommend increasing the influx of higher-caste persons. Of course, they would keep statistics over this. Yet, the coldness, the lack of humanity – it’s hard to bear. I hope we live to see those camps torched. (Page 57.)

They walked straight into an onslaught. Two seconds after the shield dropped, a flurry of missiles welcomed them. Liam barely managed to leap ahead, interposing himself and his shield between the missiles and Sera. He kept the position, staying ahead of them, but not moving ahead. “No Savior. Packed with guards.” He shouted. “Soon-to-be-blind guards.” He added. Tribune of Retribution: Blindness was already activated, deteriorating the attackers’ eye sight for each of their arrows.

“I’ll flush ‘em.” Chase shouted in return.

“I’ll distract.” Kith grinned. “This is going to suck!” A series of cards flashed, as they activated. First, his Apian God, summoning a huge, buzzing mass of insects into being. Next, Enforced Entropy, making sure that anybody his summons touched would be exempt from all beneficial buffs and effects. This, he followed up with his heart card, doubling his attributes even as it leeched his life’s blood. Building into a roar, he finished with Ties Airbound, twin tornadoes emerging to cover his feet. He kept roaring and flung himself into the bottom space of the huge tower with inhumanly rapid movement. Hundreds of insects buzzed past him to charge the defenders.

Cries rang out in response, orders, panic and questions mixing into an incomprehensible babble.

Chase didn’t listen. He moved forward slightly, glancing past Liam, and then ducking back down behind the wide warrior. He had so many options available to him right now. With his Tier three Winds of Change card active, he’d even be able to continue switching cards around, finding the perfect combination. For now, however, he settled on a specific combination. Then he nodded to himself as he agreed with Kith. This was indeed going to suck.

He burst into the room at a dead sprint. Kith had moved right, so he ran left. As he sprinted, the bright platforms from Steps of Brilliance burst into being ahead of him, allowing him to leave the ground behind and race right into the open air of the room. He activated Among the Raindrops at the center of the room, starting a slow build-up of acidic raindrops capable of burning through even the best-treated leather armor. Then he focused on keeping up the creation of invisible platforms, taking in the situation and, well, not dying.

“Light!” Cilia yelled. Then she flung two droplets of light into the room, which erupted immediately, taking a large part of the defenders by surprise and removing their sight.

In those first, chaotic moments of racing through the air, blinking away light spots, attempting to evade arrows, card effects and Kith, who was roaming the room like a drunken wind elemental, Chase managed to gather a few things.

First, the massive gathering of guards and other people in the bottom layer of the Savior’s tower attested to the fact that this was clearly some sort of fallback position. They’d trained whatever was going on. The guards here were arranged in formation, just like the former defenders had been, prepared to throw extreme prejudice at any invaders.

That organization dissolved within seconds, as they had to deal with being blinded, and also keep up with two insane people basically hurtling themselves through the air in circles around their formation – but it was a nice touch.

Next, there were many. The place was crowded! The last time they’d been here, with the decks calmly floating in the air and a few officials peacefully puttering about, the space had seemed one of peace and contemplation. With more than fifty well-armed guards taking up the center of the floor, there was no peace. There were also no decks hovering in the air. Every single deck was gone, removed to some safe space.

Also, whoever decided that everything inside the Liberty lands should be color-coordinated had clearly not been thinking about tactics. The higher-Tiered personnel with their darker shirts stood out, presenting themselves like they wanted to be targeted.

Finally, the paranoia of the Savior was front and center. The pillar had as much as confirmed it. He was deadly afraid that anybody would rise to the challenge and grow strong, to the point where he kept stronger Liberators apart, kept them from grouping up. This had never been as obvious as right now, when Chase let his gaze slide over the enemies arrayed before them and realized that there was but a single Tier four there. Certainly, there’d be more of them inbound at any moment – but, at this point, the guards shouting, shooting and defending below his hasty steps would, with a rare few exceptions, only have a single card available to them that wasn’t Devotion to Liberty.

It was a curious design flaw – and Chase was going to make the most of it.

Mentally grasping the reins, he activated his A Friendly Wave card, reaching out for the liquid slowly building into puddles from his Among the Raindrops.

When first he’d used A Friendly Wave, it had been difficult. The liquid at his command had moved only languidly, and it took great concentration to move larger quantities.

Now, through tons of practice and a Mental Power at twenty-nine, the puddles arose to his merest mental touch. Below him, at the center of the Liberty formation, a wave grew into being, growing taller and taller, before cresting and starting into a circular pattern.

Where the wave touched, screams arose – and they never stopped.

It had been the card improvement from when Among the Raindrops increased to Epic. From then on, not only did the droplets have a caustic effect and were oily enough to make enemies slip and fall. They also became viscous, clinging to enemies and constantly eating away at exposed surfaces.

At first, the enemies were professional enough to ignore the effects of the acidic liquid. Yet, Among the Raindrops kept creating more liquid, which A Friendly Wave kept churning around in ever-widening circles to strike at any enemies still fighting. And Sera’s sun lit up the open space, stopping any enemy hostile effects from coming into being, even as Kith’s insects stopped any beneficial effects from working on them, while Liam and the droplets blinded them. Granted, the insects were slowly dying. The magical effects had no effect on friendly summons, but liquid still washed the insects away, drowning them in a mundane fashion. Yet, Kith kept them rushing in, keeping them covered, and unable to use any healing or canceling effects.

The result was horrific. Blinded and kept from using any proper defenses, the guards were unable to muster any effective defense, even as the caustic water ate into their flesh. Yet, where any regular people would have thrown down their weapons and cried out in surrender, they never wavered. Instead, they exploded into action, ranging out to attack and evade the range of the damaging wave.

They died slowly. With huge, open sores, barely able to see, the soldiers were easy targets for Liam, Kith and Chase. Liam even activated Draining Ward, using the few flailing attacks that did land on his shield to boost his Agility. But they did die, all of them throwing down their lives in the defense of their deity.

Liam dropped to his knee as the final defender succumbed with a gurgling cry. He panted heavily. The clay of his arms and lower legs were heavily studded with missiles and he looked almost like Spike. Yet, there was nothing funny about his mien, as he let his sword slide down his extremities, carving off the shafts of the arrows and bolts, ignoring the heads stuck inside the layer of clay. “Everybody okay? I am-“ He grunted, as one of the arrowheads clearly bit into his flesh. “Mostly unharmed.”

They called back with confirmation. Chase blinked in surprise to see that he had actually been struck by something and was bleeding softly from his ankle. It was nothing worth talking about, though.

“We are not safe. We are far from safe, actually. You can hear more incoming, right now.” Cilia snapped. “We continue. We have no idea what is waiting for us. Be prepared. And remember. Stick to the plan. He’s a human. Not a god.”

The wide stairway leading into the tower was still as impressive as the last time they’d been here. Circling the huge chamber without any obvious support, it let them stride into the air high above with plenty of space to walk in formation.

Without even talking, they dropped into the formation they’d practiced so many times before. Liam in front, shield at the ready. Kith just behind on his left, Chase on the right. Cilia, further back, dead center, hands holding two different droplets. Finally, Sera, holding her bucklers, gaze flitting every which way, watching, assessing.

At any other time, they would have commented on everything. In hushed tones, likely. The majesty of the open, beautifully crafted space didn’t invite loud voices. Yet, everything about the tower, the decorations, the sheer grandeur of the place, would at the very least have caused Kith to shoot a comment off about somebody compensating.

Now, however, they were silent, moving in military efficiency, focused only on what lay ahead. They jogged ahead and up, not too fast, conserving their energy for what was to come.

The throne room was exactly what one might have expected. The second floor was dedicated entirely to a massive, circular room. The floor was one huge mosaic, color-graded with the colors of Liberty. The entrance, at the southern side of the room, started in shades of the lightest blue, slowly shifting toward darker tones, drawing the gaze inevitably toward the far end, and the throne. The throne. A hugely intimidating construction of what looked like the night itself, replete with shimmering stars. It looked like one massive slab of stone, built to raise its holder three feet above any supplicant. On all sides, huge tinted windows added to the kaleidoscopic effect of the room.

With the Savior in his throne, the place would’ve been hugely intimidating, the gaze drawn automatically toward the far end. Even abandoned, the eyes went automatically there, as if expecting something – somebody – to materialize at any moment.

“Subtle.” Kith snorted.

“Quiet.” Cilia scolded. “Be alert for anything. Traps. Ambushes. Invisibility.”

Liam rolled his eyes as he advanced. ”Invisibility? How the Pits am I supposed to look out for invisibility? Oh look! There’s nothing there! Must be-“

“Focus.” Chase snapped. His gaze shot upward, at the ceiling above them. It was tall, maybe fifty feet above their heads. Yet, it was still low enough there was no way that they were at the top of the building. “Stair’s gotta be behind the throne, right?”

“Gotta be.” Liam nodded.

Deadly traps failed to appear with every step. They reached the throne, their surroundings dimming with every step.

Chase couldn’t help but imagine the effect it would have, when the inhumanly tall, perfect man was actually seated, waiting for you to slink closer. Yet, right now, the threat was implicit, though everything persistently failed to appear.

A pair of large vertical banners hung behind the throne, brushing the upper edge of the throne’s back.

When they reached it, they noticed that the wide banners helped obscure the fact that the wide space between the throne and the wall was hollow. There was a doorway, and another large opening in the wall with a handle.

With the shield firmly in place of his face, Liam used the sword to manipulate the handle. It slid up, revealing…

“That’s a weird place for storage.” Kith said. “Hey, look. Dirty plates. Guess god-king-wannabes get peckish too.”

“Not storage. It’s a lift. Look. There’s a rope to operate it there.” Cilia said.

“So, he’s got to be up there, right?” Chase asked.

“I guess. That is a large number of plates for one person, right?” Kith shrugged. “Though, I guess, if I were a god-king, I’d want a harem or two as well.”

“Silence, dammit.” Cilia said. “I know you’re nervous, but… let’s please try to survive this.”

They inched the door open. Overwhelming ambushes still failed to appear. Liam continued walking first, as Cilia cracked yet another of the leather rings.

The next stairway was… something different. Not only was it not ostentatious, it was also cramped, and placed within the walls. There were no lights, and the rough stone steps leading up to the next level looked crafted more like something leading down into a city’s dungeon than to the ruler’s chambers.

The moment they reached the next floor, they froze. There were no traps, no attacks – in fact, no single hostile act. They simply crowded into the narrow doorway, gazing in disbelief at the sight beyond.

Nobody spoke. Kith walked with his eyes half-closed.

Eventually, Cilia held up a hand to Kith. “Don’t!”

“Don’t what?” He asked.

“You were working your way up to a joke about harems. I could tell.”

“Normally, I would. But not for something like this, Cil. What the Pits is going on here?” He sounded seriously hurt.

The entire level of the tower was filled with cots. Side by side, they lay, in their hundreds, all the way across the width of the tower, except for a small space at the center of the floor. People, most of them middle-aged or older, all naked, all wielders, Tiers two and above.

“They are all chained to the floor! What is this?” Sera exclaimed in horror.

It was true. Every single person had a chain going from their leg to a ring forged into the floor. Also, they wore numerous rings on all fingers. On top of that, the single possession each of them had was a set of quills, ink, and paper on the floor at the foot of each cot. Next to each of the cots stood a bucket. Judging from the rank stench inside the room, they could guess what those were for.

“What’s wrong with them? Are they drugged?” Liam asked.

The vast majority of the people did indeed look like they weren’t mentally there. Some lay back, gazing at the ceiling with open eyes. Others sat up, staring into infinity. A few slept. In the distance, one woman looked like she was jotting down a note. It didn’t look like they were physically mistreated, as such – no bruises, no signs of violence. Yet, something was entirely wrong.

In between the rows of cots, though, there was movement. One young man, also naked, also chained, slowly shuffled among the rows. He bent down along the way, picked up a few notes and returned to a long table placed centrally in the tower. There, he placed the notes in two different piles, before sitting down calmly on a chair and gazing placidly into the distance.

They ambled out among the rows of cots, hands feverishly clenched on their weapons, ready for anything. At first nobody noticed their presence, entirely caught up in their own worlds. A third along the way, one of the wielders sat up, grabbed for the quill at her feet and spotted them.

She froze. Her hand slowly rose, pointing straight at them. A thin, keening voice came from her.

That caught the attention of a few others, including the young man walking between the rows. He nearly fell off his chair, then he prostrated himself before them.

Sera rushed forward, reaching a hand out toward the young man, but he curled up into a ball on the floor, trembling, producing a deep, guttural sound, over and over again. She tried to get in contact with him, but he refused to move even in the slightest. “What is going on here?” Sera repeated.

Cilia looked up from the table and held a scrap of paper up. “Productivity in F6 is up by three percent the past month. Exceptions: Honor’s Crest, Dry Brook, Greater Fortitude. Recommendations: Monitor all three for issues.” She grimaced and looked out over the naked prisoners around the room. “These, I’m afraid, are the ones who keep track of all the Keepers.”

“That makes no sense.” Chase protested. “There’s got to be thousands of those damn snooping Guardians throughout the lands. There’s, what, a few hundred people in here?”

Cilia shook her head and pointed. “Remember back in Furyborn lands? They had armbands of sort, letting summoners swap Guardians around for different tasks. Check out those rings on their fingers. This has to be some of the same.”

Kith let his hand rest on her shoulder. “I agree. Look at their cards. Those are definitely summoner cards, even if I don’t recognize any of them.” He shuddered. “Poor bastards. That could’ve been me."

Sera eventually managed to coax up the head of the young man. She gasped, whispering at him. “Oh. You poor thing.”

The man looked up, tears in his eyes, still trembling all over. His mouth was open, and they could all see the stump of a tongue inside.

Liam snarled. “I was already going to kill the bastard. But now? Now, I believe I’m going to enjoy it.”

They moved on, promising they’d be back to help the summoners as soon as possible. The next stairs were just like the last pair, simplistic and narrow, with another lift next to the doors. No embellishments. No traps. No ambushes.

“This was more akin to what I was expecting.” Sera nodded.

The next floor was a huge workspace. Cilia slowly, hesitantly entered the room. “This is amazing. Leatherworking. Smithing. Pottery. Glassblowing. Alchemy. Carpentry. That… I don’t even know what that thing with the cubes is.”

“Does it matter?” Kith shrugged. “It’s just more proof we were right.”

“Yes. Yes, I agree.” Cilia huffed and cocked her head back. “There can’t be more than a single floor left, maybe two.”

There was only a single floor. The door swung open, and they looked into a large, windowless room, lit by a series of crystals embedded in the walls that gave off a bright, joyless light. At the side of the room lay a large burlap sack filled with decks, carelessly tossed.

“You deceived me.” The voice came from the far end of the room.

At long last, they spotted the Savior. Larger than life, clad in the dark vestures of his station, with the hood of his robe up, he slouched on a chair next to a bed at the far end of the room. A regular-sized bed, unmade, bedding bundled up, and a normal chair next to a drawer and mirror – furniture that’d be at home in any regular setting. The image of him stood out against the normal backdrop, creating a strange dichotomy.

“I believed you, Darkborn. I thought you were here to escape them, just like me. That is why I took pity on you. Yet, they sent you, did they not?” His voice pressed in on them, growing louder every second.

Cilia snapped another leather ring. “This is powerful. We won’t have an hour.” She murmured.

“We don’t know what in the blistering Pits you’re on about, man.” Chase said. “We came here to find a deck, so we could create a safe home somewhere. Instead, we find some weird-ass psycho calling himself a god, lying to his people, spying on them, and enslaving them for his own profit.”

“You are not with them? Truly?” The magnitude of the voice was less, took on an entirely different tone. The voice shook with barely constrained laughter. “And you’re merely here for a deck?”

“Well, that’s how it started.” Liam said. “Now we’ve seen what you’re up to. Just like with White Wings back on the Waves, when some tough turns feral, somebody’ll need to take them down.”

A cold laughter emerged from the robed figure, as he slowly rose from the chair. “You. You are going to take me down? A handful of piddling Tier fours? Let me show you just what I intend to do about it-“ He raised a hand and… nothing happened.

“Sorry, man. I’d say it’s nothing personal, but your personality’s clearly awful. We’ll be doing the world a favor by taking you out.” Chase cracked his neck.

An amused snort was their answer. “All right, then. Do try. I am easily bored, but there is one thing that never gets old. Showing traitors like you that, after a certain point, there is no difference between having the strength of a god and being a god.”

The Savior of the blissful lands cracked his neck, and leapt forward to kill them all.

Liam nearly died in that first attack.

The Savior’s punch was straightforward, telegraphed clearly enough that they could all see it – yet, it came with a speed and enough power that stopping it would be as easy as stopping a stampede.

Liam’s skin flashed all over, and clay sloughed off of him as he switched to Optimal Offense to boost his defense. Meanwhile, his Draining Ward improved his defense even further, and Finger on the Scales hit them all as a slap in the face, as it took the magic from all surrounding effects, canceled or not, and improved their attributes accordingly – doubled by Blessing of the Night. His parry was perfect, diverting most of the force.

Yet even with all of that, he barely held onto his shield. The wood caved in, and splinters flew as the Savior effortlessly continued his attack with a kick at Liam.

Again, Liam managed to get his shield up in time, a bit faster this time, compared to his attacker. Still, it wasn’t enough, and the kick sent him flying back nearly twenty feet, skidding across the floor. His head slammed into the ground, and he coughed, spitting blood.

“Hey, freak.” Kith floated forward softly, bounding unnaturally on the air swirling around his feet. “You seem to enjoy beating up smaller guys. Why don’t you try me on for size. That should be even more fun for you.” His blades rang as he clashed them together. He started shining with a bright, ghostly light, as Divine Mentor came to life within his own body, guiding his movements. Around him, the light shone even stronger, as a swarm of spirits emerged. Their number doubled by Twice the Fun, Sacrificial Saints trailed all around his body, ready to lay down their spirit to protect him.

The Savior halted for a second, allowing Liam to slowly get to his feet. He stared at Kith. “Light? Are you assassins from the Light? What are you? I told them I would kill them all!” With an unhinged scream, he tore forward at Kith.

Chase tore himself free from his second of inactivity and activated his own cards. He hesitantly exchanged Winds of Change for Double Dip. Being able to switch between all his cards was less likely to be as effective as draining twice the number of attributes from their enemy. That said, he activated Sticky Fingers, grinning as he felt it activate twice, stealing a point of both Strength and Agility from the Savior. Next, he activated Nights of Criffhaven, starting the timer for the slowly-building Agility buff. He could have gone with Race of Life for the instant boost, but doubted that this fight would be over quickly. Finally, he activated Clothed in Living Light, grinning as a shimmering hand emerged on his left forearm. Whatever happened to him today, he’d be able to flip off a god beforehand.

Kith lasted for nearly a minute. That, in itself, was incredible. It could only have been possible with the impressive boosts they’d already received, aided by his heart card and Divine Mentor card, and added to the fact that Sera’s cards were keeping any crafted items from aiding the Savior. The difference between the attributes of the two fighters was simply insane enough that it should have been over in seconds. Yet, Kith dipped and slid, flew and bounced, moved around like an insane, cackling ghost.

The Savior was entirely lost in his fury. He snarled, kicking and punching, throwing himself forward, attempting to grab a hold of the slippery Furyborn. Yet, his inexperience in actual combat was showing, and even though he was both faster, stronger and tougher than Kith, his movements were untrained and ineffective.

Slowly, the difference was starting to show, however. Regardless of Kith’s control, he couldn’t quite bridge the gap. Every so often, he would fail to dodge back fast enough, leap far enough to dodge the grasping hands of the enraged Savior. Every time, one of the floating spirits would, with a keening cry, toss themselves in between the two, sacrificing themselves in Kith’s stead.

Kith stumbled back. Only a few trailing spirits remained.

The Savior followed, snarling – only to reel back, as one of the two Divine Mentors inside Kith erupted into a blinding light.

He stumbled back, blinking to regain his eyesight. Growling at them, he demanded. “Why do you persist? Can’t you see that you’re outmatched?”

Chase laughed. “That’s not the sense I’m getting here. Can’t you tell? You’re losing. Surrender, and we will let you live.” Surreptitiously, he fired off another Sticky Fingers, even as Nights of Criffhaven ticked upward. “We have no issues with you. Just the way you run things.”

The Savior’s eyes twitched between Chase and the others, as if calculating. Then he leapt for his dresser, tore a cupboard open and dug inside. He grasped an item, grinned widely, and flung it at Liam.

Liam, back on his feet, with his shield raised, was nevertheless too slow to dodge the missile. His head rocked back, and the bottle exploded into tiny shards showering him with a clingy fluid. He grunted, took a step back, then steadied and wiped his head with his forearm, eyes still on the Savior.

The expressionless, perfect façade of the Savior remained unchanging. Yet, his voice betrayed his emotions. “What? How can you do that?”

“Talent. Good looks. Lots of exercise.” Chase smirked, getting off another Sticky Fingers. “You should try it, man. Maybe some fresh air would help with a few of your issues.”

“Yeah, man. Who throws bottles at people?” Kith jumped in. “That’s just rude.”

The man froze for a moment. Then, as if drawn toward her, his gaze fixed on Sera. “You. You are the one cancelling my gifts!”

“Man-“ Chase began talking, but didn’t get any further before the Savior barreled toward Sera, arms outstretched.

Chase and Kith leapt to the rescue. However, the sheer speed was too much for any of them to overcome.

Liam got there first. His leg still flashed with the use of his Helping Step card, as he was transported right in front of Sera, half-ruined shield angled to rebuff the grasping hands of the irate attacker.

Then Chase and Kith joined in, one from either side, short sword and axes flashing out, attempting to reach the Savior’s flesh.

He fell back, snarling.

Sticky Fingers, again. Agility and Mental Power.

This time, he spotted the flash on Chase’s arm, and seemed to reach a conclusion. He went for Chase. Only, a sword from Kith flashed before him. He punched at him instead, and screamed in frustration, as his hands found nothing but another spirit.

Something flashed over his face. Not fear, but some indeterminable decision. He reeled back toward the dresser again, arm dipping deep inside as he ignored them all. He found it, arm returning, grasping something, raising it to his lips – just in time for the fire droplet to strike his chest.

The roar of fire sounded bestial inside the closed bedchambers of the Savior. A ball of fire engulfed him, the dresser and half the bed. When the fire faded, leaving a vivid afterimage of the explosion on their retinas, the dresser and bed were ablaze.

The Savior was not ablaze. Yet, the fire had not left him untouched. The bottle he’d grasped was ruined, smashed to shards inside his fist. Only, the real damage was to his clothes. Heretofore, nothing had seemed to be able to impact the integrity of the suit. Now, however, the chest of the robe was half-consumed, revealing… a pair of eyes.

“Gah. I knew I said you were a freak, but… Fury rend my mind. What the Pits are ya?” Kith gasped.

The Savior responded by truly losing his mind.

Before, his actions had been savage and untrained, but definitely calculated. His choices were deliberate, and he’d clearly aimed at something specific.

Now, he flung himself at Cilia relentlessly, with no hint at self-preservation.

Liam, Kith and Chase reacted instantly. They flung themselves in his way, blocking his progress with their weapons and bodies.

He attempted to leap over the head of Liam, but Kith soared up to meet him halfway, tackling him off course.

They all worked together now, using everything they’d rehearsed through countless instances of life-threatening conflict to aid each other, take over and keep up the conflict even when they were outmatched and underpowered compared to their adversary.

Every fifteen seconds, the Savior’s attributes would dip a tiny bit more, even as Chase’s improved. Every full minute, Chase’s Agility would increase even further. Inch by bloody inch, they were bridging the gap.

Finally, it happened. The Savior leaned in with both hands, trying to tear the shield out of Liam’s grasp, when Kith’s left short sword managed to hit him across the neck. It tore right into the back of the robe, and the sword receded… with a bright drop of blood adorning the blade.

The Savior chuckled. The eyes on his chest blinked. With a noise that started out high-pitched, it slowly built into a deep laughter. “This is what I’ve feared? This can barely be called pain. Why am I even holding back?” Still laughing, he flung himself right at Liam.

Liam’s truncheon hit his arm with a resounding crack. His eyes shot open wide, as the Savior just pressed on, ignoring the damage. He fell back, with the Savior on top of him.

Kith leapt in, chopping with his full strength. Only, the attacks that landed seemed not to do the damage they should. Only thin lines of blood emerged. And all the while, the Savior let his fists pummel down onto Liam.

Chase leapt onto his right arm, using his own, glowing hand as well as his left, to keep him from savaging Liam any further.

The Savior laughed cruelly, pulled his head down and tried to toss Chase forward.

Only… nothing happened.

Chase had both feet solidly planted on the ground, both arms fixed on the Savior’s right wrist.

For a split second, the Savior froze, astonished by what was happening.

Chase, meanwhile, just used his shock to his advantage, pulling for all he was worth. And, as he’d found, there was one thing that Clothed in Living Light granted him above all. Sheer grip strength. Another Sticky Fingers gave him another two points to Strength and two to Toughness, while taking from the Savior, made the balance slip infinitesimally farther in his direction.

Then Kith struck. He used the split second of full distraction to drop one hand axe, grasp the other in a two-handed and raise it above his head, before using his full body weight to bring it down. Right at his back.

The Savior moved, at the last second realizing his position. Yet, Chase still held onto him from one side, and Liam, battered and bruised, managed to grab onto him from below.

The axe descended.

The god of all Liberators. The dictator of the blissful lands. The strongest known person in all of Ordei… screamed.

They stumbled back from the shrilly screaming man. Chase grasped onto Liam with his shining hand and pulled him away.

The Savior didn’t even seem to notice.

His face was still serene. Perfect. Yet, the eyes below were wide and blood-shot, pain-filled screams reverberating between the walls.

A hellish vision appeared before them, unclear within the smoke and haze from the bed, which was now entirely in flames. The head and shoulders of the Savior seemed to roil and melt, as if the heat was causing it to deform. The hand axe still stuck out from between the shoulder blades.

They pulled back slowly, Kith fumbling after and picking up his other axe as they retreated a few feet.

Liam’s arm flashed weakly, as he switched Draining Ward for Cleansing Fire. He sighed softly as the weak healing ability slowly caused parts of his bloody face to rearrange themselves.

Cilia had a droplet in either hand, one raised to let go.

Sera looked everywhere, alert for any trick.

Eventually, the Savior’s shape reformed. The robes were now slightly different, shorter. They revealed… something else. A different person, middle-aged, just about as tall as Chase, pockmarked, with a fading hairline.

The blade of Kith’s hand axe was embedded halfway into his neck. Right where the shoulders of the tall, inhuman deity had seemed to be.

The Savior looked up at them, blood dripping from his lips, breath wheezing. He looked into Chase’s eyes, brows furrowing, as if in deep confusion. Then, without a further word, he died.