The Primordial Record - Chapter 1462

Chapter 1462 The Voice Of Rage

The two maces hit empty air leaving a long trail of flame in the air, missing their intending target by a mile, the body of the Dark One that should have been launched farther by the red skulls into the falling weapons had not, instead in a reality-defying motion, the Dark One returned to his previous position as if he had never been pushed back.

This unexpected diversion by the Dark One led Firen to be open to attack because he had barely even begun to pull his hand back after that first slash, and he had been hoping to follow through with his next attack, but like a gigantic specter of death, the Dark One was before him. Firen smiled, before the gate of death, he was at peace. What happened next went by incredibly quickly, as the Dark One now close to Firen struck like a viper, his left hand pierced into Firen's body repeatedly, at least a dozen times, and every time he removed his hand, he was either holding an organ or a sizable chunk of bone, all of these was tossed to the side, discarded like trash.

Despite the sort of sounds that would have killed a thousand men, Firen roared, the sound a haunting dirge as he swung his blade, but there was barely any power in his hands and he collapsed to his knees in front of the Dark One, in an instant, he was beaten, yet his blade never left his hand.

Behind the Dark One, Olaf who had missed his swing was rushing over, white flames surrounding his feet, boosting his speed, but the intensity of the flames paled in comparison to what Firen had been capable of, however, it still brought him close to the Dark One relatively quickly as his figure seemed to vanish and he reappeared in the air, a few feet above his target, his arms were already poised upwards to strike, his mace glowing like twin stars, but those arms never dropped.

With a seemingly careless backward swipe, the left hand of the Dark One cut through the left arm of Olaf at the shoulders, the armor could as well be made of tinfoil for all it did to stop his harrowing motion, as the hand of the Dark One continued through the left hand of Olaf and cut just below his neck, exiting on the other side of his body after slicing through the shoulder of his right hand.

Olaf blinked his eyes in shock and pain and the top portion of his body fell backward, and his torso without arms or head landed on the ground and stood still for a second, blood furiously shot out from his body as his powerful heart worked for the last time, and then his body fell on his side, the Dark One had not even turned around.

Standing over the kneeling body of Firen who was gasping for breath, due to the fact that among the organs the Dark One had pulled out of his body, he had taken out most of his lungs, and what was left behind was not even bigger than a baby's fist, bending down a bit, the long arm of the Dark One stretched towards Firen's face, and his palm covered his entire head mad a portion of his shoulders as he brought the convulsing warrior to his face.

When he was kneeling it was easy to forget that he was fifteen feet tall, but holding onto the seven-foot-tall muscular warrior, who now seemed like a child in his hands, the picture that was conveyed was striking.

Sure the Dark One might be naked, his skin was all but nonexistent, eighty percent of his muscles were nearly liquified, with his bones and organs shriveled with no signs of life, and then adding the three tentacles pumping enough corrosive liquid into his body that was enough to dissolve an entire continent, there was still no doubt that this figure carried power that no mortal could comprehend, and staring at him in all his glory, and all his horror, was an experience that would drive a mortal to madness. He brought the head of Firen to his face and the Dark One whispered, his stringy black hair that was covering a part of his face parted aside to reveal a face that was still striking even though he had nearly no skin, it was almost improbable, but that face was still beautiful despite the horrifying scars.

"What did you say to me, maggot?"

If Firen could be able to talk, even now that he was without lungs and half his throat was gone, he would have, Firen would have laughed, but the Dark One did not want him to speak, because the hands of the Dark One were squeezing his head so tightly that any minor force added to it, even if that force was simply a feather falling on the fist of the Dark One, it would be enough to crack his head like an egg.

It was in this state, placed at the edge between life and death that the fallen god, who still remained his lost friend and mentor in the heart of Firen, brought his head down and began eating the warrior in his grasp, melted armor and all. He did not seem to be in a rush.

Of the seven warriors who had begun this campaign with Rowan, three were dead, the fourth was kept on the edge of death to suffer while the Dark One could feed slowly on his flesh, and there were only three that were left.

The last three remaining were Valgus, the Mage, Wyra, the Archer, and Osi, the Ranger and their cries of rage seemed to make the storm above quiver and they attacked with everything that they had. Rowan was barely aware of what was happening, his consciousness barely able to recover from the strain of holding the weight of all the souls from this dead continent, all he knew was that he was rapidly losing, and if he did nothing, he would lose, and yet even with this awareness, blinking his eyes was nearly impossible.

It was for this reason that he could not control the actions of Firen or Olaf, and why the last three of his companions left, filled with rage, began attacking the Dark One with barely any structure of a plan.

Wyra no longer had to fish for arrows as any time she drew her bow, multiple arrows made from white flames would appear on it that only grew hotter and brighter the more effort she placed inside the draw, so she had no problem destroying her body so she could harvest every scrap of power that was inside of her.

She began releasing arrow after arrow accompanied by screaming skulls, and she did this so quickly it was almost as if lightning bolts were being released from her bows, her arms began to bleed, and her hair was slowly catching fire as the heat generated from her bow was greater than any immunity the magic surrounding her could bring, even the blood that fell from her hands turned into ash before they touched the ground. Wyra only knew she was screaming, but she could not tell what the words coming out of her mouth meant, only that if hate or rage was ever to speak, what was emerging from her mouth was its voice.

Valgus was not left behind, his assault even greater than what Wyra was capable of. No longer releasing balls of flames, he stretched out both of his hands and a single constant pillar of white flames whose core was blinding red as thousands of screaming skulls traveled through the bright beam of flame erupted out of it and slammed into the Dark One.

The explosion of power from that impact was calamitous, rippling out in unending waves that sent out such great shockwaves that the storm outside was destabilized for a while, and for a moment it was as if the Dark One was disregarding this assault because he wrapped his body around Firen, in a perverse act to ensure that he was safe from the impact, but even this fallen one could not withstand the power being sent against him and he staggered as the bright beam of flame released by the Mage punched through his spine and emerged from his chest, accompanied by an explosion of gore that tore what remained of Firen from his grasp.