Druvak's army had won, but his battle with Armaror still raged on.
Clank!
Their blades clashed in a shower of sparks. Armaror's drake lunged, its massive jaws snapping shut on empty air as Druvak effortlessly created distance.
Druvak's gaze flicked to his victorious forces, then back to his foe. "See, Armaror? Your army falls like a sandcastle crumbling before the sea."
"Hmph… The weak have no right to live," Armaror scoffed, digging his heels into his mount. "If they die fighting, it is a worthy end. Those left behind, I would kill myself." He gave a sharp tap to the drake's scaled back.
The beast charged. Druvak tilted his neck, the bones cracking softly. He tightened his grip on his sword and settled into a low stance. "Let's end this war."
The drake barreled toward him, maw gaping. Druvak sidestepped with unnatural grace, but Armaror was already there, his twin crimson swords slashing down. Druvak parried one blade and in the same motion, his own sword flashed out, severing both of the drake's front legs.
The creature crashed to the ground with an earth-shaking thud, throwing Armaror clear. The Duke tumbled through the air and slammed into a giant standing stone, which cracked from the impact before collapsing into a pile of rubble on top of him.
The maimed drake struggled pitifully, dragging its massive body with its remaining limbs, its roars becoming desperate calls for its master. "Roar! Roar!"
Rumble… Rumble…
The debris shifted. Armaror erupted from the pile of stone, his eyes wild, and sprinted toward his fallen mount. Druvak simply raised his sword.
"Roar! Roar—"
The call was cut short as Druvak's blade cleaved through the drake's neck in one merciless swing.
"Nooo!"
Armaror skidded to a halt, falling to his knees beside the severed head. He cradled it, his body shaking with silent sobs. Druvak watched, his voice cold. "You show no mercy to others because they are weak, and now you weep for a monster that treated living beings as toys?"
Armaror's head snapped up. His eyes glowed a vicious red, his muscles bulging and swelling. Hot, angry steam jetted from his nostrils with every ragged breath. He gently laid the drake's head down, retrieved his fallen swords, and rose.
He said nothing. With a guttural scream of pure rage, he charged like a wild beast.
Druvak met the assault head-on. Their blades became a blur, the only evidence of their exchange the constant shower of sparks and the deafening clang of metal on metal. Even in the frenzy, Druvak's mind was ice-calm, analyzing, searching for an opening. His Wraith innate ability is active. His power grows with his anger.
Druvak pushed deeper, calling upon his Weapon Divinity. His blade seemed to sharpen itself, his movements becoming impossibly fluid and precise. He rose to his full height, deliberately took a powerful blow on his sword to stop his advance, and used the impact to launch himself backward.
He closed his eyes. The flickering blue flame within his chest cavity stilled, burning with a steady, intense light. The sapphire gem set in his armor gleamed with a piercing blue radiance.
ROAR!!! Armaror charged again. Druvak's eyes remained shut. He just held his sword, firm and ready. Armaror leapt high, both swords raised overhead for a devastating, twin strike.
'Gentle Wind Sword Style,' Druvak murmured.
In the blink of an eye, he was behind Armaror. He gracefully sheathed his sword.
Armaror's momentum carried him forward. He tried to turn, to charge again. But Druvak didn't move. As Armaror's swords were about to find their mark, his own arms and head slid cleanly from his body and thudded to the ground.
Druvak raised a fist to the sky. "We have won the battle!" The entire army answered with a triumphant roar. "Ooooohhh!!!"
"Everyone, charge the castle!!!" Druvak commanded. His forces flooded through the broken gates. But the victory cheer died in their throats, replaced by a stunned, sickened silence.
A putrid stench of rotten flesh, old blood, and decay hung thick in the air. The path was littered with bones—demonic, humanoid, and some heartbreakingly small.
Mia advanced, her hand clamped over her mouth. Her foot caught on something and she stumbled. Looking down, she saw it: the half-eaten head of a demon baby, its eyes and mouth frozen in a silent scream, dried tear trails etching lines through the dirt on its cheeks.
She couldn't handle it. Stumbling to a corner, she ripped her mask off and vomited. Burgh!
Gasping for air, she looked up and froze. Half-eaten demon children and infants hung upside down from ropes, their blood dripping slowly onto the stones below. Her legs gave out. She collapsed, eyes wide, a cold sweat drenching her. Her hand landed on something soft and small. She looked. It was a tiny, severed hand. Aaaahhh!!!
Her scream echoed through the courtyard. Geo and Druvak were at her side in an instant. "What happened!?"
Geo was also stunned into silence by the grotesque sight. Druvak created two orbs of calming, golden divine energy in his hands and pressed them to their foreheads. The energy spread, steadying their shattered nerves. "Hold yourselves," he said, his voice low and grave. "What you see is only a glimpse of their madness."
"You are elite commanders. If you fall, who will steady your units? Rise."
Nodding shakily, Mia and Geo rose and moved to regroup their soldiers. Druvak turned to the hanging corpses. He bowed deeply. "Please forgive us. I promise you all a proper funeral."
Through his ability to sense sin, fleeting, horrific images flashed in his mind: Armaror using these very children as live feed for his drakes, as playthings. Druvak's grip on his sword's hilt tightened until his knuckles were white, his teeth gritted in fury.
As he returned to his troops, a soldier approached him. The man's face was ashen, his legs trembling. "Sir… I-I found—... I think you need to… see this."
Druvak knew, with a sinking dread, that whatever awaited was worse than what they had already witnessed. He followed the soldier alone to the castle's backyard. The man opened a heavy door, revealing a staircase descending into the earth.
The room below was vast and pitch black. A faint, sickening squelching sound echoed, and the floor was flooded with a strange, viscous liquid. Druvak and the soldier lit torches and advanced cautiously toward the noise.
After a few steps, the flickering light revealed a nightmarish sight: a deformed, half-formed chimaera floated in a large incubation tube.
Druvak drew his sword, holding it in a ready stance as he moved deeper into the chamber.
They reached a wall. The soldier pointed a shaking finger. "Sir… look, torches."
Druvak looked. He summoned a small flame in his palm and hurled it. It struck the first sconce, and a chain reaction occurred. One by one, torches around the massive chamber flared to life.
The light revealed the full, horrifying extent of the room. Hundreds of incubation tubes lined the walls, each holding a twisted, malformed chimaera. And in the centre loomed a colossal tube, forty-five feet long, containing a monstrous fusion with three heads—lion, wolf, and orc—a titan's body, tentacled arms, and a serpentine lower half.
High above, a cage hung from the ceiling. Inside, bipedal chimeras scrambled over each other, their eyes vacant, their minds utterly, irreparably broken.