Argrave could barely think above the loud rumbling of pain that swept his body. It felt like cords sewn into his body had been ripped free of the muscle and skin surrounding them. The whole of him felt raw and battered, but he rose much the same as Mozzahr. Both of them were tensed like wounded animals, ready to bite the hand that came no matter its intent.
Mozzahr didn’t bother healing the wound on his shoulder, nor the huge crater just by his heart caused by Argrave’s [Burst]. Instead, both dire injuries were covered by his Emptiness, staunching the bleeding and ensuring functionality. His limp left arm regained movement just as Orion headed the charge to end Mozzahr. He swatted aside a coming punch, yet Orion’s speed and size continued and slammed Mozzahr back against the wall.
The two struggled to grapple as Melanie subtly crept forward. She used the ability of her black executioner’s blade made of chitin, and a tremendous blast of energy emerged from its blunt tip and thrust right through his abdomen and into the wall behind. Mozzahr yelled in pain, yet his right arm prepared a spell that glowed teal as he prepared to put power behind it.
The Alchemist stepped forward, hundreds of hands bursting from his body to layer dozens of wards atop each other. When Mozzahr’s spell finished, the Alchemist’s excessive defense proved entirely reasonable as a wave of sheer power raged against the wards. When its energy faded, icy crystals imbued with teal power had frozen everything in front of Mozzahr. Orion, still grappling with the castellan, seemed badly hurt by the frost, and Mozzahr pushed him away with ease. It was barely in time to defend from the Alchemist, who dismissed his wards and slammed down his obsidian staff upon Mozzahr.
Mozzahr narrowly caught the Alchemist’s blow before it struck his head. He was panting heavily, yet gripped the staff with both hands tightly and pulled the staff forward. The Alchemist very literally grew roots embedded in the stone to resist the strength of Mozzahr’s pull, but it was insufficient, and the Alchemist lurched forth. When Mozzahr conjured more power in his hands to deal damage, an arrow struck him in the eye and he staggered backward, hitting the wall once more. Galamon, who’d fired the arrow, was already drawing the next back.
Argrave could see faint black mist dancing in the air moments before Onychinusa manifested above Mozzahr. A mana ripple spread as she completed her spell. Ice condensed into a thick spear that jutted forward tremendously quickly as it spiraled. [Winter’s Awl] slammed into Mozzahr just behind his head, forcing him to the ground as it rapidly spun and dug into his flesh. He was on his hands and knees, as though groveling before them.
His screams were haunting, and Argrave thought he was near done. Anneliese stepped forward, and Argrave watched her rush up and touch both Orion and Onychinusa. She didn’t attack—instead, she teleported the three of them away, then shouted, “Get back!”
People heeded her words moments before Mozzahr recklessly discharged his energy in a great pulse. It spouted from his wounds, his eyes, his mouth, and his ears in an unprecedented show of power and wrath. It tore through the carved mountainside and the floor with relative ease, and even Argrave was forced to retreat as his terrible power ate through the world.
When it was said and done, so much of the mountain Hause’s temple had been carved from had been torn away that light filtered through the now-missing roof. It fell upon Mozzahr as he crouched there. His reckless discharge of power had made his wounds bleed anew. He covered them with his power once again, but the damage had been done. He tried to rise, but the small puddle of blood that had formed made him slip. He tumbled into the crater he’d just made, but managed to land on his feet. He stared up at Argrave, his eyes firm, as he bent down to pick up his rapier. He held it up.
“I won’t run,” he said, voice steady. “I’ll never run.”
Argrave heard the twang of a bow practically the same instant he saw Galamon’s arrow pierce through Mozzahr’s ear. He had spent enough of his Emptiness that it would no longer shield him from such mundane weapons. The Castellan of the Empty staggered on his feet as though he was merely drunk, then collapsed to the side. His energy started to drift upwards out of his body like smoke from a spent candle. Rocks as they continued to settle, but they were the only noise for a long while after Mozzahr’s death.
The Alchemist looked at Galamon. “We could have captured him.”
“We didn’t,” Galamon answered back.
Argrave felt a little worse than hell itself, but he walked into the crater. Everyone watched him go without doing anything. He turned Mozzahr’s body to face the front. The left side of his chest had been torn away from Argrave’s [Burst], while his left arm hung limply, nearly severed from the blow from Argrave’s axe. His guts were showing from Melanie’s stab, and his right arm looked popped out of place and broken from Orion’s tackle.
Argrave kneeled. “You should have run a long time ago.”
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