Chapter 6: Fiends

 

Larxus, king of Dalanoi, stood in the large, decorated hall, with a somewhat bored expression.

Normally, he would sit on his throne, stare at the beautiful paintings that lined the walls in rows, or feast on powerful wind treasures like delicacies while talking to different envoys, ambassadors or clan heads.

Today was different, for the scouts had come back with the reports he had requested.

He replayed the scene, in his mind, from two months ago that led to this:

“Reverent leader, the great mother has spoken to us.”

The head priest of the church stood before him, trembling and licking his golden painted lips. There was a newfound gleam to the priest’s eyes which reminded Larxus of old leather newly oiled.

“Explain.” commanded Larxus.

The head priest threw his hands up in the air, “O’ reverent leader, her will was so clear we cried with joy! She spoke to us in a dream, a divine declaration of magnitude we have not received for centuries!”

Hearing the aged fanatic’s words, Larxus sat a little straighter in his chair and urged the man to continue. “Go on.”

“A tomb lies to the west, O’ reverent leader, in the barren parts of the outer regions. A tomb We must find and conquer, for within lies Her motive!”

Larxus suppressed an urge to sigh. “What is it that we must find then, Caveat?”

“The chalice!” screamed Caveat at the top of his lungs, madly dancing around. He stared at Larxus with blood-sprained eyes, his white greasy hair making Larxus want to take a bath. “It is Her Will,” proclaimed the priest , “Her divine intention, Her command, Her– ”

“Enough.” bellowed Larxus. He then smiled and nodded. “Do not worry, Caveat. Her dream, Our vision. Return to the temple and I shall send out men at once to procure this chalice. I promise.”

“O’ reverent leader. Praise be the mother! We thank you.” said the old priest before bowing and leaving the hall of clouds.

Larxus returned to the present. One of his generals, Dakar the Mighty, stood in front of him with an expression that betrayed no emotion. The man’s bronze skin gleamed in the light from the pure essense crystal hanging suspended from the high ceiling.

“Your majesty.” said Dakar in that firm voice of his as he bowed deeply.

“General,” Larxus ordered. “Prepare a small platoon of soldiers and a lieutenant below the branch level.”

“Under the branch level, your majesty?”

“Do not make me repeat myself, general?”

Dakar bowed again. “Yes, your majesty. At once, your majesty.”

The general then saluted and strode out of the hall of clouds.

At the sight of him leaving, Larxus walked up to his throne and sat down. His muscles relaxed and he snapped his fingers for one of his servants.

“I’m in the mood for a snack tonight. Tell the guards I want an even younger this time, preferably thin, and have him placed in my chamber, along with some rope. ”

The servant bowed and left.

“You old fool, you expect me to believe the mother suddenly sends you a dream after all these years of silence?” mused Larxus, King of Dalanoi, in a low voice so not even the other servants, standing at the ready for whatever he needed, could hear. He clicked his tongue. “Well, I suppose I’ll give it a token effort. If it turns out to be nothing, I have a yet another reason to get rid of your kind once and for all.”

 

-Break-

 

In the book that Ezekiel bought from a rather reputable bookshop in elemental city, the author clearly stated that fiends are nocturnal predators, creatures of the night, and that their preferred hunting time matches that trait.

Therefore, the boy, just shy of his sixteenth birthday, did not expect what followed the expedition group of fire and water cultivators as they entered the forbidden area and set up camp.

Yura and Ezekiel had just finished their sparring session under Kyro’s guidance when a scream erupted from the other side of the encampment. Seconds later, a bell rung once, twice, and a third time.

“Yura and Ezekiel, get behind me. Now.” commanded Kyro . His voice was hard and barred no objections.

The two siblings sprung up to their feet, still panting from their previous exertion.

Ezekiel felt weak in his legs, but forced himself to stand straight.

One bell meant enemy attack.

Two bells meant they were surrounded.

A third bell meant–

A dark shape suddenly sailed out from the trees toward them.

Kyro quickly blew out a cloud of black smoke in response. The creature, with no way to dodge mid-air, was struck right in the face.

The smoke hissed as it took effect, and the creature wailed. It was a shrieking that grated the ears like the sound of a fork or knife scratching porcelain the wrong way, but magnified many times over.

Clearly, it wasn’t the same smoke Kyro showed Ezekiel six weeks prior.

As the smoke cleared, Ezekiel made out the slick, dark hide that covered the fiend’s body. It was the size of a big wolf, but had a far longer body. Its claws glinted in the sun and seemed razor-sharp, like the talons of a twice-sized eagle.

What made Ezekiel’s heart skip a bit was the creature’s beady eyes. They were almost identical to the Primordial demon’s eyes– slitted and blood-red. But instead of cold intelligence, only pure, undulating rage and boundless hunger roamed within.

The smoke did more damage than the boy thought possible. Black blood sprayed like a fountain across the fiend's body.

“Wretched be the father.” swore Kyro from ahead of them. “There’s too many of them. RUN!”

Tens and tens of shapes emerged from under the cover of the trees, all in forms that would put Ezekiel’s nightmares to shame. He stared dumbfounded in shock and fear, his legs refusing to move as the fiends began to encircle the camp.

It wasn’t until Yura slapped him on the cheek that Ezekiel broke from his stupor. He met his sister’s eyes and it felt as if a bucket of cold water had fallen over him. Her face was ashen, white as snow, and her were eyes wide.

Nonetheless, Yura slipped his hand into his, and he felt how clammy and stiff it was as she pulled him away.

Together, they ran toward the centre of the camp. Behind them, they heard the wretched symphony shrieking fiends that met with Kyro’s poison.

They sprinted into the main camp, where defensive perimeters were being erected to protect the mortals and the supplies.

A woman in her forties ushered them behind the line of more experienced fire and water cultivators. It was Elder Milia from the water clan, her face tight.

“He’ll be alright, won’t he?” asked Ezekiel as they came to stop inside the defensive perimeter.

Yura squeezed his hand tighter as she nodded.

“Yura, Ezekiel!” .

They turned around to see Mika approach with his sister, Teresa.

“Your arm.” said Ezekiel and quickly ran over.

Mika shook it as if to prove it was nothing, but couldn’t seem to help but grimace.

“It’s fine.” The boy from the water clan told him. “A fiend caught my by surprise, that’s all.”

“Don’t act tough, if Aunt Mia hadn’t reacted as quickly as she did, you’d be dead.” Teresa remarked. She then turned to Yura and looked her over. “Are you injured too? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Yura shook her head. “Just shocked.” She said. “I didn’t expect them to look…. Like that.”

“I nearly shit myself.” added Mika with a sigh, “So I can’t blame you.”

Ezekiel looked around the safe zone, hundreds of fiend beasts were throwing themselves against the members of the two clans. If they weren’t caught by a fireball or cut by a water-blade, they were forced back by shields and different weapons.

But there were simply too many at this point. Elders of the branch level were few in between and couldn’t take on all the bigger fiends, so casualties couldn’t be ignored.

“We need to help.” said Ezekiel. “People are dying. And we need to find teacher, he is out the somewhere.”

“Your teacher? Elder Kyro?” Mika asked.

“Yeah. He held back the swarm by himself so that we could get away.”

“Your teacher is probably one of the strongest cultivators with us.” Teresa told Ezekiel. “We’ll just get in his way.”

Ezekiel was not sure about that. Even if Kyro was as strong as Teresa explained, the amount of fiends were overwhelming. Nonetheless, he nodded.

“Fine, what should we do then?” he asked. “We can’t just stand here and do nothing.”

Teresa pointed at Yura and Mika. “We will go help the defences, but you will stay here.”

“What? No!” said Ezekiel in a rush. “I can help too, my swo–”

“Yes you can use your sword.” said Teresa. “But you haven’t yet reached first compression. Your body is too weak to withstand the attacks of fiends, much less the larger ones.”

“Sorry, brother, she’s right.” Said his sister.

Mika just looked at him sadly, and said nothing.

Ezekiel’s throat clogged up and he averted his gaze.

Teresa’s hand touched his shoulder as she spoke next. “We know you want to help, but it won’t help anyone if you get yourself killed. And we want you alive. Okay?”

Normally, when the older girl unexpectedly touched him, it sent an electrical jolt through him. This time, it still felt good, but his mind was occupied with other thoughts.

Yura hugged him and Mika clapped him on the back. Then, they were off, joining the defence perimeter and leaving Ezekiel all alone in the safe zone with the chefs and other mortals. Well, at this point, couldn’t he also be considered a mortal?

He scanned over the cultivators in the defensive perimeter ahead of him.

Elders with flourishing powers were using various branches to crush, decimate and decapitate the larger fiends.

Young men and women, while not as eye-catching, fought with fire and water to , their bodies having been strengthened by compressions. Many fought with such perfection he believed they could wipe the floor with him in an instant.

Ezekiel saw Regan Tresh send a fiend tumbling with his tower shield only to bash its head in when it came in for a second attack.

As he watched the battle, a feeling he didn’t quite know how to place stirred inside of him. It wasn’t frustration, he discovered, nor was it shame, as he first believed.

No, it was irritation. And frustration.

Ever since children of his age in the clan had begun awakening their powers, and he did not, Ezekiel had changed. His spine began to bend more often than not, and his gaze averted for things it hadn’t before. He had hold on to the fact that someday, he would find the spark needed to set his core ablaze.

But he didn’t.

When Regan Tresh awakened, someone who had always sucked up to him for his status as the clan head’s son, Ezekiel’s life changed even further.

The brutal beatings in the trainings and constant mental abuse by him and his brutes had caused him to move out of his mother’s estate, away from the main clan.

Ezekiel had become wary of people, only going out on special occasions. It hadn’t made him feel any better when his mother stood by the sidelines, uncaring of what was happening.

He understood her reasons. The younger generation reflects on the older one, and weakens leads to rebellion. She put the clan first, and him second, if that.

However, he had now begun to cultivate. Everything would change, had he thought as he left that morning to enter the meeting.

Past scenes flashed before his eyes.

His mother’s narrowed gaze as he told her he had taken the first step.

Every day in those two weeks after his awakening that he had woken up thinking she would summon him to her estate and tell him how sorry she was for everything.

Regan Tresh’s smug smile when Ezekiel had brought his sword with him, the pure contempt on his face.

The Primordial’s sneer and cackle as it made him fall to his ass in fear, and the way it belittled everything that was him.

Teresa gaze, so full of pity, when she told him to stay put.

Ezekiel swore to himself right there and then, that it was the last time he would avert his gaze like he had done today. And that no more would he let his spine bend.