Instinct prevailed over discipline. Cassiathon failed to weave another thread swiftly enough. He erected a barrier—a wide urgent shield of grey rot separating the winding corruption from the enclave.
The pair of forces collided with a vacuum-like explosion. His shield endured, breaking down the energy yet the recoil and the drain of power struck him as if he'd been punched. He dropped to one knee struggling for breath. The uncontrolled discharge had also expanded the area nearby the ground crumbling into dust within a twenty-yard radius.
The Angel of Death appeared abruptly positioned between Cassiathon and the rift. He observed the shield, the scorched ground and then his son's labored chest.
"A reflex " the Angel noted, devoid of commendation. "An unsuccessful strategy. You have just revealed your location with a signal of your strength drained your energy and momentarily delayed the issue."
Before Cassiathon could reply the rift expelled its protector. The figure that appeared was not a creature. It balanced on two hooves, its frame robust and armored, with chitinous scales topped with a crown of fractured horns. Clutched in its hand was a serrated blade. Its gaze locked onto Cassiathon with hostility.
"A Keth'rak Drudge " the Angel mentioned in passing. "A ranking commander, in the Abyssal forces. It detects the Queen's essence within you. It is bewildered.. Starving."
The Drudge advanced sword lifted high. Cassiathon retreated in haste grasping for his blade—a unadorned weapon of human steel.
The Angel of Death remained still. Did not advance to block.
The confrontation was fierce. Cassiathon was powerful, quick and skilled.. The Drudge embodied battle itself. Its strikes shook his frame every block delivering tingling jolts through his limbs. He attempted to draw his energy. The source was faint worn down by his previous surge. Just faint wisps of grey shimmered near his hands.
He was being defeated. A grazing slash scored a streak of wounds along his ribs. The Drudge growled, seizing its hand pushing him rearward, toward the decayed fungal clusters.
"You are reasoning as a fighter " the Angel's voice pierced the chaos of battle, serene and maddening. "You are something. Observe its thread."
Cassiathon evaded a severing strike tumbling across the ash. Observe its thread. Not the corporeal form,. The connection anchoring it here the stream of violet power, from the rift that enlivened it. He pushed his awareness beyond the blades the searing agony, the dread.
Then it appeared. A throbbing, strand of light linking the Drudge's center to the rift. A lifeline of decay.
When the Drudge lunged in for a strike Cassiathon didn't lift his sword. He let it fall. He concentrated all his remaining resolve his terror, his fury, into one focus. Not a barrier, not a sweep. A scissor motion.
A sharp exact sliver of his grey energy thin, as a wire shot forth.
It moved through the Drudge's body without causing any harm.
It broke the connection.
The beast halted, its strike pausing mere inches from Cassiathon's chest. The cunning cruelty, in its gaze wavered, overtaken by bewilderment. Suddenly as if its strings had been severed it fell apart into a heap of lifeless, crumbling exoskeleton and melting tissue.
Cassiathon gazed, gasping, his flank bleeding his strength drained.
At last the Angel of Death advanced. He indicated the rift that was left unguarded. "Now. While it remains unstable due to the absence of its anchor. Not, by force. With certainty."
Trembling Cassiathon rose to his feet. He moved toward the throbbing rift. He noticed the knot, now unraveling from the connection. Only a little remained. He reached out not with a cable. With a needle. A lone precise tip of conclusion.
He reached the core of the knot.
Unmake.
Emitting a noise, to a sigh the violet rupture folded inward. The fungal clusters disintegrated immediately into dust. The unhealthy fog dissipated. What lingered were merely the mark of Cassiathon's prior eruption and the deteriorating debris of the Drudge.
He faced his father, weary, hurt, yet carrying a glimmer of earned insight in his gaze.
The Angel nodded once. "Better. You saved the enclave. And learned the cost of a mistake." His gaze drifted to the distant, safe walls of the settlement. "They will never know what passed here today. That is our duty. Now, we go home. Your mother will see to your wound."