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Torn God: Watcher of Deep Places (Web Novel) - Book 5: Chapter 10 A Reckoning [Part 1]
Book 5: Chapter 10 A Reckoning [Part 1]
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"Revenge arises from fleeting passion, while vengeance springs from the enduring foundation of justice. Injuries are repaid in anger, but crimes demand solemn reparation in virtue and order. Thus, one must discern between the fire of impulse and the balance of righteousness, for only the latter restores harmony to the world."- The Human Question, by Gideon de Salavia 378 A.C.
And so the slaughter continued and my weapon drunk deeply of their lives and suffering. I fought against the Guild, nipping away at them, the Djinn and I settling into some uneasy truce. I grinned maliciously to myself as my Asura gauge slowly ticked up, just a little more and I could walk a few more steps on that liberating path.
Canis, the fool, now found himself fighting on two fronts. He could not spare enough men to quench my bloodlust, choosing instead to focus his might on slaying the Djinn. Such is the folly of those who place lofty ideals above the primal instinct of survival. There would be a victor here, but it would not be the Adventurer's Guild.
Guildmaster Canis and his lot were hard-pressed but relentless. The dome had made sure that there would be no running away from this field this day from any side, including his own. His forces made progress against the Djinn—magical assaults chipping away at Zariyah's form, each spell tearing wisps of energy from her tempestuous body. I needed him to continue, to weaken Zariyah for our eventual confrontation, but not to the point of her demise. All the while, I had to defend myself, ensuring the Guild did not rob me of my prize. It was a perilous dance, a game of steel and sorcery, and like Canis, I was striving to maintain a delicate balance between opposing forces.
What the pitiful Guildmaster failed to realize was that this chaos suited me perfectly. His attempts to fell me with a thousand cuts were laughable; to even graze me, they would need to muster overwhelming might in a single, devastating blow. But Canis was too blinded by his own hubris to see the futility of his tactics.
He had erred gravely in bringing me into this fray—a mistake compounded by the treacherous betrayal within his own ranks. Fools, all of them, playing at games beyond their ken. It was a pity, really, that they underestimated me so. Alone, I possessed might enough to tip the scales of this battle.
However, even fools can learn, given enough time. Canis began sending his elite warriors against me—battle-hardened veterans adorned with exotic armaments and enchanted gear immune to my Rust spell. They came at me in disciplined waves, each attack force rotating to allow the others to rest. It was a delaying tactic, a futile attempt to wear me down.
Even as he spent the lives of the dross distracting Zariyah.
They must have thought me an unyielding automaton, tireless and inexorable. In truth, they were not far off. My Greater Drain siphoned their very life force, replenishing my stamina with every blow I landed. With each fallen foe, my cup overflowed.
The Geomancers regrouped, their chants rising above the clamor of battle. They wove their magics together, and a dome of Earth, smaller but no less potent than before, enclosed Zariyah in yet another cage. The howl of frustration from the Djinn was only slightly muffled by its new container. With the Djinn temporarily contained, the Guild's focus shifted entirely to me.
A chill ran down my spine. This could be bad... very bad indeed.
It was time to unleash more of my power. I called upon Frenzied Strikes, each swing of my weapon fueled by a wild fury. The Asura gauge—my inner reservoir of wrath—swelled with each foe I felled. I needed to reach its zenith to stand against the combined might of these would-be heroes.
I surrendered myself to the carnage, lost in a dance of death. My weapon guided me as much as I wielded it, its hunger palpable. What ancient magics drove it, I did not know, but with each life it claimed, whispers seeped into my mind—secrets both forgotten and forbidden. The greatest revelation of all was that death was not an end, but a beginning. Only the Void—my other aspect—could deliver a true, final ending. A death beyond death.
A paradox so exquisite it teetered on the edge of madness—a madness I was all too willing to embrace.
Amidst the chaos, I was prevailing against all odds. It was as if fate itself had tipped its scales in my favor. Blades that should have found flesh missed by a hair's breadth; my own strikes landed with uncanny precision. It was a dance leading inexorably to one conclusion.
And like all dances, the rhythm changes, and new partners emerge from the shadows. A different tune began to play.
Canis, pushed to his limits, despair etched into every line of his face, bellowed across the battlefield, "WHY? Why, damn you!"
Though the Djinn was for the moment contained, his words were but wind in a storm, lost amid the roar of battle and the euphoria that coursed through me. The Greater Drain not only fueled my body but ignited my senses, each moment a symphony of blissful carnage.
He wanted to know why. The answer was simple: because I could. Because it was right. Because I had the unassailable justice of self-defense on my side, and they refused to yield.
Guildmaster Canis strode toward me, hatred and despair warring in his eyes. "You treacherous cur," he spat, his voice dripping with self-righteous venom. "Are you so consumed by bloodlust that you..."
"Your men struck at me first," I retorted, my voice echoing from within my dark helm. "And at this very moment, your men attack a weak and defenseless girl."
