Chapter 122
The Dead May Die
Its here, Sylas ca to a halt and warned, pointing at the invisible mbrane between the snowed-on trees. Agnes paused next to him, her eyes veering toward the direction and alighting.
Its fascinating, she mumbled.
You can see it?
Hmm, see it is... not quite the right way to describe it, she said. For example, each ti I was about to co across a dangerous animal sowhere in the woods... I had a feeling, and the world shifted colors--
Ah, I get it. Gods are telling you to fuck off outta here.
Sothing like that, yes, she nodded. Considering how stern the feeling is... whatevers beyond is quite dangerous, huh? she looked at him.
Hmm, quite dangerous is... not quite the right way to describe it, he grinned as she rolled her eyes. For example, the last ti I ca here, I got my ass handed to rather quickly after eting a big-ass knight in armor. It will be different this ti, though, he licked his lips suddenly, a glimr of expectation shimring in his gaze. If youd like, you can stay out here. But I aint leaving that place alive.
Ill co, she shrugged. May as well bear witness to sothing no other human alive had. Well, except you, I suppose.
You an or the dead?
... both? she shoved him gently and smiled as she pressed forward, her bare feet leaving steaming imprints in the snow.
Sylas shook his head and followed, with both quickly breaking past the invisible barrier and into a completely different world. Sylas imdiately realized there were so changes--naly, there were far more spires, more buildings, and... well, more things in general. The city appeared much larger, though still draped in dark and gloomy shadows, cast wholly of oily, black stone akin to chiseled obsidian.
On the other hand, Agnes stamred and stuttered and nearly fell back. Rather, she would have had Sylas not extended his arm and held her. Her lips gaped in shock, eyes quivering at the sight.
Its a bit bigger than I rember, he said.
That... thats what you get from this?!! she exclaid. I know you said its a city... but... its a city.
Well... uh, no, yeah, what I said. What the hell do you an?
I figured you were overblowing it to make yourself seem cooler.
... the more honest you are, the more I realize just how little you think of , actually.
I think of you plenty, she said. But also know youre like a playful jester, never a word of truth from the clowns lips.
Well, well chat so other ti, he said, stepping forward and taking a deep breath before drawing out the sword. They might attack you. Ill try to defend you, but I aint making any promises.
Ah, my hero~~
Scratch that, Ill gleefully cheer em on while they disembowel you.
Tsk. Cant take a joke.
Where are you going? Sylas abruptly extended his left arm and grasped at the void; a re mont later, Agnes watched as a silhouette ford within a fra before morphing into a cloaked figure. Just then, Sylas pressed his fingers tightly and snapped the figures neck in a singular motion. This almost shocked her as much as watching the city of the dead. Snapping soones neck, even under the best of circumstances, was insanely difficult. And yet, he did it with his fingers.
With a single motion of his arm, he tossed the body forward and let it roll on the ashen ground, kicking up gray particles.
Dont be little cunts, he spoke into the wind. Shes just our audience.
Before his words parted his lips, Sylas ducked and snapped his sword arm forward, thrusting the blade and, once again, seemingly materializing a figure from nothing, killing it in one hit. And thus it began.
Agnes watched curiously for a few seconds before being entirely entranced. She was already very familiar with the fact that Sylas was fast--so fast, in fact, it was impossible for her to actually follow his actions, just their aftermaths. And yet, sohow, hed gotten even faster than the last ti she saw him fight. Rather than a blur, it looked as though he was simply moving his arm through space, snapping from one point to another and appearing the blade inside the attacking figures.
Dozens ca and dozens fell, just as quickly. So tried to go round him and attack her but none got the chance. In fact, it seed as though the forty feet around her was the marked forbidden zone. Most bodies were laid out just outside that mark, cloaked in black, though ashen still.
After so ti, she noticed that there were no more phantom figures appearing. At the sa ti, she realized that Sylas' countenance had changed. Until now, though focused, he was relaxed and simply unencumbered by the whole ordeal. And yet, now, everything--from his expression to the stance of his body--seed to stiffen. She soon found out why--coming from the black-dyed and misted streets that she was not allowed to peer through, a behemoth in spiked, obsidian-black armor ca thudding.
The thing carried with it a massive weapon, too massive for any human to wield in fact, and seed more a giant than a man. Just the re appearance had her heart caught in her throat. She wanted to spin around and run as fast as her legs would carry her yet, at the sa ti, she was rooted to the mont, to the place, to the idea.
Just then, a heftily broad back appeared in her view, blocking the giant, ugly thing. Comparatively, Sylas looked almost naked--his armor composed of a singular piece of mail covering his chest, a strange, single-horned helt, and skirt-like leggings that were embroidered pieces of famous lucas scales, a fairly resilient plant native to the north.
He looked a savage more than a warrior, while the behemoth looked a proper knight, soone ard steadfastly, incomparable. And yet, that tiny, rugged, even ugly-looking figure seed far taller in her eyes. He didnt flinch at the earthquake-like footsteps like her, didnt seem frightened or fazed. If anything, he seed excited.
She didnt have to wait long for the calm to disappear; rather than waiting like the last ti, Sylas elected to rush forward. Though his body wasnt as quick as his blade, it was still beyond any humans limit. It wasnt just the raw speed, but the way he unshapely bent his body and how quickly he was able to change directions.
Reaching within the ten feet of the beast, the latter swung its gigantic weapon toward Sylas. And rather than simply shifting to the side slightly or trying to block or parry, he rooted his feet for a mont and imdiately snapped his body wholly left. What would take everyone else in the world, she suspected, a full, proper stop and change in directions, he executed in a single motion. Though she heard so bones creak, none snapped.
She, also, quickly realized why he chose to do that over everything else--the strike of the giant caused a massive chasm to erupt in the ground, not to ntion the sheer outburst of wind on all ends rooted stones from the ground and sent them flying. One, in fact, shot toward her like an arrow but lted before reaching her, as though a thousand hands worked in concert to prevent it from touching her.
In the anti, Sylas flanked the beast and started attacking. Not unlike his armor, Sylas' bladed wasn't anything special--it was an ordinary, steel-crafted, and tempered blade. Though imnsely effective against people and normal armors, it lost most of its usefulness against what looked to be even stronger than the tempered plate, not to ntion that the bladed wasn't even the length of the beast's forearm.
All the sa, Sylas continued the dance, stabbing with unmatched ferocity, ducking and dodging left and right. The winds kicked up the ash and blurred her sight, though she still fetched it all clearly--he was a tiny mote amidst the flaunting darkness... and he was winning. She felt it. She felt the darkness flinching. The steady strikes that never wavered suddenly beca hurried. Panicked. Sloppy. From attacking unhesitatingly, it began using its weapon to block instead. To try and parry. But it didnt realize sothing that even she did--it had already lost.
Its sole advantage was that it was big and strong and its armor. It could never match Sylas speed or natural skill. And thus, in the mont of panic, Sylas found the opening and stabbed with one of those strikes that stirred every drop of blood in Agnes heart almost to the point of believing she could beco a swordsman like him. The strike shuffled the wind and shuffled space around it and bore through the thick, ebony-dyed armor and did the unfathomable--it exploded the figure from within the armor.
Though the plate remained standing, from within its gaps blood and gore and chunks of flesh and organs began spewing like a horrid, horrific, nightmare-inducing fountain. Like a macabre decoration that the very dead he was killing would be worshiping. At the sight, Agnes looked away and closed her eyes. It was horrible, the shower of blood. The storm of gore. And it was cold. There was not a scream of pain. Not even a tiny yelp. There was silence and the thuds of the chunks belting against the ground.
She opened her eyes a few monts later and looked forward--there it still stood, the armor. It was now like a golem, a decorative statue that went... eerily well with the background. It truly looked like it had always belonged there--the silent, inanimate guardian of the obsidian city behind it. Before she could ponder over whether she admired it or abhorred it, she realized Sylas had returned to her, draped in blood from head to toe.
Were fucked, beautiful, he said with a grin, taking a flagon of wine from next to her feet and drinking a few mouthfuls. Looks like Ive pissed soone really strong off. What say you? Piss em off further or run?
... piss em off, she grinned and took the flagon from him, taking a few sips herself, as though trying to swallow the fire of courage to ignite her soul. And go win once again.
Well, shit, he chuckled, turning around and facing the city once again. I cant lose now. Wouldnt that be embarrassingly la?
It really would. So, you better win. I just might reward you... with a kiss~~
... aaah, why did all my motivation suddenly deflate like a corpse that soone poked with a needle?
Hey!!! My kiss is a godly prize, you know?!!
Well, kiss or no kiss, he said. Were both about to be deeply fucked. I hope you arent heartly hanging onto your dying the most painful way virginity. Stand behind and hold a dagger. If she starts torturing , stab in the back of the neck, he pointed at his nape. And then, with all your strength, shiv it left or right.
You... youre asking to kill you?
"Kill ? No, no, more like... reborn . Yeah, let's go with that. I'm serious, Agnes," he warned her sternly. "I'd much rather you kill and live with your demons than beco a puppet of torture for so maniac for decades to co. Alright?"
A-alright! I will! she nodded, grasping at the handle of a dagger and swearing inwardly up and down shed do it even if she had to cry for months after. Or days. Or perhaps hours. Surprisingly, the thought of killing him as to air out her grievances against him... didnt seem that bad after so examination.
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