Pegwalsge’s slow march across the decayed earth began to resemble the color of the sky lifeless, dull, and threatening. Yuhen was sealing his open wounds with ice. But the ice was no longer a defense merely a way to buy time. With each blow it unraveled, with every flash it vanished.
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Yuhen glanced toward his men. Some still resisted, but it was no different than warmth born within a fresh grave.
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Palir was on his knees, trembling hands clutching his head. Blood dripping from his eyes began to stain the soil a deep red. In his mind, a storm of darkness shredded every thought but deep within, a small spark still fought for life.
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He tried to open his eyes, but everything was blurry. Colors were drained, the world suffocating. Narth’s silent laughter echoed in his mind, prowling through his soul, subjecting him to a nightmare worse than death.
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Palir clenched his teeth. The blood boiling in his veins tried to become raw Xhu. Every cell screamed as if torn apart by invisible blades. Then, a scream erupted in his mind his own. But the scream became a rebellion at the edge of ruin.
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Amidst the mental chaos, Palir gathered his sharpened Xhu with all his might. Its cold gleam disrupted Narth’s shadowy consciousness slightly, but it still clung to the most vulnerable corners of his psyche.
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Palir struggled to stand. His knees buckled. The blood drying on his cheeks burned his skin. Channeling that pain into rage, he focused his Xhu into his sword.
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He raised his bloodied eyes and gazed into the heart of darkness.
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Narth’s shapeless face betrayed his pleasure.
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Palir, trembling in pain forged by his own blood, stepped forward. His sharpened Xhu gleamed enough to slice through the gloom. As he moved to strike, the chains of his mental torment shattered with a violent clatter Narth, impressed by Palir’s resistance, withdrew his Norzsa Zenxhu and drew his sword.
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Palir took a few shaky steps, his fingers tightening around the hilt. He inhaled sharply, the air slicing into his lungs. Blood blurred his sight. Narth stood before him, a silhouette of death, calm and waiting.
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Raising his sword slowly, savoring the moment, Narth seemed to feed on Palir’s fear and pain.
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Palir roared and leapt forward, his Xhu shattering the ground beneath him. Their swords clashed with a scream of steel. Narth moved with quiet precision, taking delight in harming his prey. Palir’s strikes grew desperate, more erratic.
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Every blow was parried with cold ease. Narth was wearing him down. Each hit didn't just wound the body it tore at the soul. Palir’s thoughts blurred. Each cut flayed skin and screamed agony. Blood poured in hot rivers, and pain fused with some primal ecstasy and horror.
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Then, with a savage swing, Narth broke Palir’s defense. His blade sliced a deep line across Palir’s chest. The ground caught him, blood soaking him instantly. He struggled to rise, shaking, broken.
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“We’ve only just begun,” Narth said, his demonic grin visible.
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Palir, bloodied hands trembling, attacked again. He slashed blindly, but Narth knocked the blade aside and slammed the hilt of his own sword into Palir’s face. The crack of breaking bone echoed through his scream.
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Palir collapsed. His vision failed. Madness crept in. Narth’s cold steel pressed to his neck and fear surged.
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“I wish I could see you squirm,” Narth whispered, grinning.
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Palir tried to speak, but words died in his throat. Narth drew his sword back and plunged it into Palir’s arm. The scream tore through the night, blood splashing violently to the ground.
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“No... enough...” Palir begged, barely conscious.
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“Not yet,” Narth replied coldly.
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When Yuhen turned toward the writhing Shuan, Karra was calmly, mercilessly pressing her foot into his chest. Shuan’s mental defenses shattered; reality melted for him. Karra slowly raised her mace, its head gleaming menacingly.
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Shuan tried to scream, but the sound caught in his throat. The mace struck his right wrist shattered, blood geysering skyward. Screams of agony echoed.
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Karra’s face showed no emotion. Only cold, absolute resolve. She struck again. Bones in Shuan’s other arm splintered. Blood pooled around him. Reality collapsed under the weight of Karra’s Rasa Zenxhu.
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While Shuan writhed, Karra gently spun her maces and leaned closer.
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“Your pain pleases me,” she whispered, ice-calm and haunting. “And I want to savor it.”
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She pressed her foot into his wounds, amplifying his torment. Shuan’s screams echoed into the void. She struck his legs next. He slipped beyond reality, teetering on madness.
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Looking into his fading eyes, Karra whispered, “You will dissolve slowly in agony.”
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She stood and left Shuan broken, his blood pooling as the dark swallowed his cries.
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Seeing Shuan’s state, Yuhen screamed in rage, hurling curses at Karra as he rushed to him. “You son of a bitch, I’ll kill you!”
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But his reckless charge left him exposed. Pegwalsge seized the chance striking with terrible force. In that brief distraction, Pegwalsge’s black blade tore deep into Yuhen’s back.
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Yuhen collapsed, screaming, blood pouring from his wound.
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“I’ll kill you first,” Pegwalsge murmured, his voice cold, threatening.
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At that moment, Vorun’s chains lashed out like lightning, binding Yuhen in place. He struggled, then looked around. His five men lay bloody and unconscious.
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Desperation turned his fury to curses.
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Pegwalsge stood over him, calm.
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“If you’ve nothing else to say...” he said, coating his blade in black flame.
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Just as he raised it to sever Yuhen’s head Creasya and his troops arrived. With a powerful blow, Creasya drove Pegwalsge back.
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Yuhen was saved at the very last moment.
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