Vult's eyes widen momentarily, and his nostrils flare.

"Then you have learned an error."

And without slowing down, he shifts into another flurry of savage swipes Maia is hard pressed to elude.

For her part, the mercenary princess shows some signs of the price she pays for her energetic movements, her fit figure slick with sweat. Yet, she shows no signs of slowing down.

Can she keep up?

She must. She can. She can do it.

She can do it.

"Maia..." You mutter. Then, again, more loudly - "Maia, you can do it!"

She knows better than to get distracted and look your way, but you can tell she both heard and appreciated your outburst by the way her serious mask of an expression cracked ever so slightly towards the confident smile you saw her flash once or twice.

Help her, Laurentia - you think to your companion. Perhaps what was your first prayer since you left your parents' home, in a manner of speaking.

I'm already on it, She assures you. But most of it rests on her. The pressure is immense, and I can't command the light that we share as I can my own. I can only hope she has found it as well... no, I'm sure she has. Look!

Indeed it seemed the princess was fighting with a bit more spright now, able to trade some probing attacks with the enemy general.

"The only error here is you, Vult, thinking you're in charge." She barks at her opponent between manoeuvres. "But you know that, don't you? You told me, you fight for freedom, once. Do you feel free... now?"

Vult's face struggled to keep a stony expression, and interestingly enough you suspect if it was up to the enemy leader alone, he would be more successful in it. The dark aura flared around the giant of a man and his fighting style eroded away from technique and further into savagery, as the man was gradually overtaken by the beast.

It is afraid.

Normally, that would be a good thing, you realize, as it was more likely for the man to make mistakes and create openings in his current stance. Unfortunately, the enhanced strength and bottomless wellspring of endurance the Beast had bestowed upon his puppet more than made up for those shortcomings of technique.

And Maia... her heart was eager, but her flesh and sinew were reaching its limits. Forced again to more desperately dodge and deflect, she was unable to capitalize on any weak spots she might have seen.

"The only true freedom is in imposing your will on the weak." Vult's lips made sound, but his eyes were empty, staring past the woman who loved him, and past the dark veil surrounding the impromptu dueling grounds.

With three steps taken in rapid succession, neglecting his guard, the mercenary lord advanced upon the princess and with a powerful, brutal slash she only barely rose her own blade to parry, knocked the weapon free from her hand, the momentum strong enough to send her tumbling to the ground. With another stride he was on top of her, sword raised to deliver the killing blow...

You were about to burst into action, but once again, something stopped you. Perhaps a premonition. Perhaps instinct. Perhaps you sensed somehow what was going to happen.

"Pathetic." Vult says. "You fought well enough for me to grant you a swift end. But before I do, do you at least now regret your foolishness?"

Maia was looking up at him with a mix of defiance and sadness.

"Even if I die here, I will not regret fighting for you."

Vult smirks. It's a horrid sight, with his eyes still empty, wrapped in the sort of ethereal darkness you're not sure mortal senses could perceive. Why aren't you moving?

"Foolish. At least you've learned your place-" The dark greatsword rises. Why aren't you leaping forward to intercept it? The sword falls, and you watch -

"Never." The words come softly, yet still somehow manage to obscure the shift of air as the mercenary princess springs into action, drawing her second sword. "-gonna give you up."

You're not sure how you were able to make out the words at all between the bright flash, shower of sparks and a whine of tortured metal when steel meets steel, and light and darkness collide.

"Never gonna let you down."

Maia was standing, almost nonchalantly. Her hair a bit tussled, but her eyes bright with hope as she stared, leaning back slightly, at the man she loved, or what he had become.

Vult, for his part, stood still, staring incredulously at the stump of the greatsword in his hand, dark fragments of the blade scattered on the ground around the three of you.

There's a moment of stillness, of peace, as a single ray of light pierces the darkness somewhere midpoint between Maia and Vult.

"It's over." the redheaded tomboy announces. "Leave him. Give him back to me. You lost."

It's then that you realize why you were not moving. Because somehow, either you or Laurentia, must have felt it.

That things are going to get better.

Vult's gaze slowly rises and he meets Maia's amber eyes.

And then he starts to laugh.

And then things get worse.

There's something intrisincally revolting about the sound. There is no mirth in it, no joy, no smile, no emotion other than pure malice distorted by a sense of absurdity thick enough to locally distort the light and air alike. It's a perversion of laughter.

The shadows ooze out of Vult's eyes, ears and mouth, and rises from around his feet, enveloping him in a shifting, eye watering spectacle as the statuesque body that was likely appealing to the man's ego is obscured by a roiling fluid of pure darkness.

"Over?" the words seem to originate not as much from the creature as from the shadows around you all. "Ignorant bitch, it hasn't even begun."

Maia takes a step back and brings herself back into defensive stance - for all the good that it does her as the creature nonchalantly swipes its arm in her direction. Your confusion at what seems like a gesture gives way to horror as the limb extends grotesquely, smacking the surprised girl from side, lifting her into air and sending her tumbling on the ground where she remains lying, motionless.

"Maia!" You shout and prepare to run to her side.

Don't worry, I've got her! Focus on the enemy! Laurentia urges you to trust her.

And you do. Enough that you barely have to suppress any reluctance as you turn your attention fully at the aberration before you.

You can make out only barest reminiscence of Vult underneath the layer of materialized darkness as it stands to regard you back. Lazily it flicks its wrist, and the shadows coalesce around and out of the hilt of the shattered weapon, extending into a form of shadowy blade, perhaps even serrated, you're not entirely sure as the shape is only a degree deeper than the ambient darkness swirling around the man-shaped puppet.

It makes no immediate effort to advance, but the palpable enmity you feel pouring out of its black, oily eyes, convinces you that it is not going to wait long to make its move.

The only question is, what choice of action do You have?

>There's only one thing to do, here. This is what you came here for. Attack.
>Fools rush in. Take defensive stance and wait for the enemy move.
>Maia seemed to have gotten through to Vult to some extent. You were not the girl who loved him, but perhaps you could still find a way to reach out to the man whose body Beast was using?
>Taunt the Beast. It seemed to not be above such petty emotions after all.
>other idea

>rick rolled
That was like a fucking FLASHBANG, goddamn

>>6055164
>Taunt the Beast. It seemed to not be above such petty emotions after all.
Do we not get some banter with our fated foe before fighting to the death?

>>6055164
>Taunt the Beast. It seemed to not be above such petty emotions after all.
just for the hell of it

>>6055164
>Maia seemed to have gotten through to Vult to some extent. You were not the girl who loved him, but perhaps you could still find a way to reach out to the man whose body Beast was using?
>”Vult, do you see the truth now? You have not seized the power of the Beast, but overtaken and twisted by it.”

waiting warmly

This was it. The realization emerged, as if it was always there against back of your mind. Even though you certainly couldn't, or wouldn't, imagine the confrontation to take this particular form.

And although ever since you learned of Vult, the mercenary general, to be the focal point of Beast's power, as you looked across at the husk of the man, you had to admit to yourself feeling a measure of pity for the man.

Perhaps some of it was even yours, and not just expression of Laurentia's divine compassion.

Be that as it may, it was clear you are not facing the mercenary general right now. No, right now you had upon yourself your true enemy's undivided attention.

And considering what you've seen of him, or it, so far, perhaps there was a way to use that to your advantage.

"How it feels, for a creature obsessed with strength, to have been spurned by something that cannot be taken by force?"

It may have been a bit long-winded, to the point where you wondered if the creature attacks you before you finish. But whatever its reasons, it waited for your question to conclude.

Perhaps it simply wanted to be angry.

Aberrant worm. It's almost laughable how many times over wrong you are. Its face(?) contorted even further into a mask of rage and it threw itself against you.

As it charged forward, against your braced posture and raised weapon, its form seemed to grow beyond what seemed proper for an approaching man as it if drew in the shadows from around you to engorge itself.

At least that's about as much as you could theorize in the fraction of second between it charged forth and the moment when it entered into melee range, brazenly walking into your weapon.

Interestingly, as it passed through a certain threshold, blazing halo surrounded him, burning the roiling shadows away and giving Vult/thing's visage a new quality.

Nonetheless, the grimace of pain Vult bore as he bore down on you was not particularly reassuring, if certainly not in the way his dark overlord had intended.

"Is that so?" You ask, as your weapon meets that of the mercenary lord - although the shadows around his "regrown" blade have been scattered, the weapon itself seemed tangible enough. "Then why is your most powerful agent reduced to role of a flesh puppet?"

Attacks were savage, relatively fast, and almost free of any finesse. Perhaps under different circumstances that would have been enough - brute force, after all, is a quality of its own. For now, though, you find yourself light on your feet, capable of deflecting and dancing among the blows, with ease sufficient that you find breath enough to continue poking at the spectral dog in possession of a human man. "Are you perhaps worried that if allowed the choice, he would make the correct one and turn on you?"

First response is another savage flurry of swings that you somehow manage to block or deflect with your weapon - and although you can tell the colossal momentum behind each of them, somehow you are able to withstand the pressure and not even your own mace seems worse for the wear despite both apparent solidity of the sword and its ominous background.

Of course, the enemy is not one to give up easily, and judging by the malicious oozing of shadows - what kind of mental image is that, even? Perhaps that the pulsating wisps and tendrils seemed particularly spiky and agitated in your direction? - the enemy creature may not have been even able to consider anything else but pressing its attack.

As if to emphasize that notion, and punctuate its tireless barrage, the thing picked up its voice again. Intrusive anomaly, you will eat those words, along with notion that you could mock me.

There's another throb in the backdrop of blackness surrounding you, but nothing seems to come out of it, save for perhaps some frustration that lingers in the followup rant of your adversary.

Your defiance of natural order - of MY order - will end here, and you will kneel and whimper at my feet, regretting you didn't take my offer when you had the chance.

"Funny you would bring that up." You say, sensing an opening in a rather specific sense. "Is that something you had shared with the man you now wield as a glove? That you were ready to take your boons away just like you would do with the dark queen?"

Somewhere during your speech, there was a subtle change that you almost missed, but situational awareness was something your father had already drilled into you in your childhood. The background noise that carried from distance, difficult to distinguish sounds of battle, noise, and - perhaps that was a bit of a wishful thinking on your part - Smutkin's battle tunes, all of this background against which impacts and footfalls of your duel took place, all of it fell perfectly still.

All of it, but the sounds of your fight... and your voice.

Silence! Shut up! SHUT UP!

Apparently, that did not go as planned.

On impulse, you pursued the point.

"That the force he had relied on was ready to betray him at drop of a hat, while the woman who loved him kept him close to her heart even as she learned of his misdeeds and ill intents?"

The figure of your enemy wavered momentarily.

That just goes to show what the true nature of strength is - and the extent of his dominion.

The voice glowered, but the mercenary lord's movements, although picking up pace again, grew even more mechanical than before, like a true puppet on strings.

There was another out of place sound, but you had difficulty interpreting it. It had nothing to do with combat. It was just something small, ephemeral, glittering, striking pavement between one step another, between one swing of the blade and the next.

Could it be? Was there something left of a person in that swirling vortex of darkness?

You wanted to believe. Laurentia wanted to believe. You felt quite certain Maia also wanted to believe, and you were virtually sure that so would Celestine were she here with you.

It did you well to consider such an option, and perhaps in accordance with this your movement seemed even lighter and more natural as you continued to repulse Vult-shaped creature's increasingly desperate assault. Even though both yourself and your spiritual companion were aware this, too, could be a ploy, you both derived vim from the chance that it was not.

And the Beast seemed to realize that.

You seem smug for someone who claims to derive strength from memory of his violated mother, and the impotent cuckold you call your father.

Failing to find a physical vulnerability in the sphere of light surrounding you, the enemy made an attempt to stab your own heart by a different means.

You felt a wave of indignant rage erupt and wash over you, and fall upon your adversary like a sledgehammer blow.

A shower of luminous sparks momentarily obstructed your vision, where the torrent of warm light turned searing hot struck into the shadowy form... only to slide off with little effect, the shadowy aura surrounding Vult's form flaring up, if such a turn of phrase could be used for turning even dimmer shade of black.

There was a guttural sound of laughter, though you could tell none of it came from Vult himself.

Pathethic.

Eep! You sense Laurentia convey. Sorry, I've lost my composure for a moment.

There's a brief moment of stillness, and then the ambience cycles through a few shades of pitch blackness... and that's all it does.

Your opponent blinks.

The anger was not yours. You have long since made peace with the idea that no foreign malice had power to spoil the gift of love you had treasured and that had kept you sane up until this moment.

If anything, you felt yourself at risk of beginning to pity the enemy for thinking otherwise.

"Please, refrain from upsetting my friend." You growl - and advance.

Suddenly, the enemy was on the backfoot. There was no more banter, just echoes of the dark blade twitching to intercept your careful, deliberate swings.

You realized that it was unlikely Beast was truly on its last legs, and rather was trying to come up with some new way of turning the fight in its favour - after all, you couldn't be even sure your striking down Vult would truly mean your victory here. A victory, perhaps. But to truly succeed in what you set out to? That seemed too... simple.

Then again, sometimes simple solutions just work.

Still, something told you, you'd have to do more than simply strike down the man-shaped thing currently retreating before you.

But first things first. Vult has not yet been beaten, and even the man himself may yet surprise you... one way, or another.

>Reach out to Vult for one last time. You can do that much for him... and for Maia. And perhaps...
>Don't drag it out. This has gone on long enough, it's time to end it.
>Address the enemy directly (saying / asking what?)
>other idea


>>6058804
I appreciate you doing so, friends.

>>6059134
>Reach out to Vult for one last time. You can do that much for him... and for Maia. And perhaps...
if the beast had to resort to insults, we can still do something about it.
also no problems, OP

>>6059134
>Reach out to Vult for one last time. You can do that much for him... and for Maia. And perhaps...

>>6059134
>Address the enemy directly (saying / asking what?)
>Taunt him some more, give him something to think about. "Have I not been truly becoming of my nature, turning on my metaphysical ancestor? If anything, you should be proud of this turn of events, I'm taking the world from you. No matter how long it is you've been avoiding your fate, it was purely arrogance that made you think you were actually exempt."
>"After all, Eternity is just infinite opportunities for anything to happen. You think killing me will help? What is known can't be unknown... You will remember, while you revel in violence you'll look over your shoulder fearing this power you cannot understand, your sick enjoyment now Tainted by it. I assure you, whatever twisted peace you felt with carefree impunity... Will never return." Whittle down his will. Even if it isn't true, as long as he believes it, you'll have won.
>"Destroy all Hope at your own peril, of course. You may call it bait, an illusion to break the will of the weak in glee, but I've seen the real, practical need you have for it. Because for a slave without hope, their only solace... is Death." Interpret this however you want. That being said...
>Reach out to Vult for one last time. You can do that much for him... and for Maia. And perhaps...
>"Vult, if you can hear me... I know what it's like to be powerless, and I assure you, you can come back from that. There are people who'll lift you up when you got nothing, no matter who you are. You said you wanted to change the world and I believe we can do that right now, if you'll let us. Just Believe."

>>6059134
>Reach out to Vult for one last time. You can do that much for him... and for Maia. And perhaps...

>>6059134
>Don't drag it out. This has gone on long enough, it's time to end it.

There is only one path for you to take. This moment of uncertainty might be your best shot to take out Beast’s principal – or perhaps only formerly so, considering circumstances – pawn in the material world.

It would be a sensible thing to do.

In a way it might even be seen as an act of kindness and mercy.

Laurentia recoiled slightly at that line of thinking, although you don’t think she’d begrudge you had you pursued it.

Had you…

Indeed, you do not. Hope is something you’ve been carefully sheltering, and love – in this case, Maia’s love for her former hero, accompanied you to this point.

How could you defy that?

“Vult, you now know the creature you serve is not one of strength, but of treachery, murder and deceit.”

You could, and would, defy something else instead.

That’s what you were there for, after all.

Insolent beast, what do you know of the nature of strength? You who have been wielding violence and deceit in pursuit of your own goals.

That was not an accusation you had expected to hear. Of course, it was not worth responding to the Beast’s taunts, but you still found yourself wondering whether enemy’s words were indicative of his misunderstanding you, or simply something Vult was meant to hear.

Regardless, you had something more important to tell the shadowbound man.

“I do not presume to know how you came to serve it, and only you alone can answer to yourself where and what your intentions had lied.” You speak, without easing the pressure of your attacks, which fortunately so far the enemy was unable, or unwilling, to reverse. “I do suspect that you understand that the one person you should never seek to deceive is yourself. That is why I even offer to you those words.”

Words mean nothing. They are but flickering shadows on surface of primordial strength.

“If that is so, then how are we even having this exchange?” You shout at the darkness. “Is that alone not proof that either your claims, or your very substance, is a lie?”

There is no verbal reply, just silent seething – and an awkward attack from Vult’s sword. You focus back on the man.

“Vult, it was in fact one of your own men,” “...who said in my presence a surprisingly profound truth.”

There’s a lackluster lunge from the mercenary that you bat aside. Either the mercenary lord is putting up some resistance already, or the Beast itself is waiting for what you bring up so that he can twist it in his favour.

“...that it is never too late to make a choice, as long as you still draw breath.”

How trite. All three of us know what a hollow platitude that is. The beast sneers back. Nobody can bring back the dead. Nobody can return “purity” and “innocence” to those once ravaged. When you commit to the path of primordial truth, there is no returning to the bubble of ignorant prattle the weak build around themselves.

“Flesh may be fleeting, but the Word is eternal.” You turn the creature’s own taunts against it. “And purity is not determined by what someone suffers, but what they do.”

Having rebutted the malevolent voice you switch back to Vult. “You have talked and fought Maia, and you’ve looked in her eyes.” You tell the man. “You saw her fight not you, but for you. The only question that remains to be asked is to be answered by you.”

You quietly collect your strength, and in two powerful strides deliberately removed from the pattern of your defense, close the distance between the two of you, catching Vult’s borderline reluctant guard with your weapon and pushing his aside.

“What will your answer be?” You ask in a calm tone that surprises even yourself.

For a moment you stand there, your weapons and gazes locked into each other’s.

And again, you’re not sure whether it’s your wishful thinking, or some supernatural sense, perhaps both shared with Laurentia, but you are almost certain that you saw a glint of acknowledgment from the the dark eyes behind the swirling sheen of roiling shadows.

The moment passed, and with an inarticulate roar – you’re not honestly entirely sure whose – the two of you withdraw from the momentary deadlock, and you warily eyed your opponent for his next move.

You’ve done, in likelihood, all you could, when it came to Vult, the man. The rest would be up to him. You were not vain enough to think your oratory skills would be enough to convince him, but if there was a flicker of hope that whatever you managed to convey would give him that final prod… then you would be satisified.

And something seemed to be happening alright. Instead of resuming his routine of corrupted mechanical onslaught, Vult’s stance shifts and straightens up, perhaps as if he was going to address his men.

Then the screaming starts.

It’s a torturous sound, enough to unsettle you as you take a step back. It begins with a man’s voice, though you wouldn’t have recognized it as Vult’s, at least not based on the voice you heard him use earlier. But it seems to be a genuinely human voice, a cry of pain, loathing, regret, with a dash of laughter at the absurdity of it all.

And in the background, intertwined with that voice, was the deep, guttural rumble of a malevolent entity finding itself ripped, shredded and torn against its will.

The aura of blackness shuddered, throbbed with several shades of absolute blackness, then abruptly ceased its flow you didn’t even realize was still there, solidifying into an immaterial man-shaped bubble -

- and like a bubble it popped, dissipating into the ambience in thin, frayed strands of darkness evacuating the now once again clear and revealed form of the mercenary lord. You note that once again, with the shadows fleeing, true form of the man was revealed, and you had to admit that even without Beast’s augmentations the mercenary general cut an impressive figure.

Or at least he would have, had he not – in absence of the tenebrous entity micromanaging his every muscle – collapsed into a motionless bundle on the ground, his expression an odd mixture of pain and peace.

The duel was over.

And it seemed that neither you nor Vult had lost.

In this brief moment of respite it felt like someone someone exhaled a sigh of relief. Whether it was you, Laurentia, one of your companions, you couldn’t tell. You couldn’t even rule out the sensation having come from the fallen mercenary. In any case, you allowed yourself the luxury as well, allowing yourself this short instant of peace.

Whether it was a hazardous lapse in vigilance, or a well used momentary lull, the moment passed too soon, and abruptly, with an overwhelming sound of silence, followed by a pulse of darkness shrouding the scene, taking away your view of Vult’s motionless body, the indistinct skyline and even the pavement below your feet.

There’s a moment of vertigo as you momentarily lose certainty of solid ground below your feet, and as you begin to contemplate what’s going on, the sensation vanishes and stillness returns.

Before you begin to formulate your choice of how to respond to this situation, the silence is broken by a clapping sound. Then, another. It’s a slow clapping, one Smutkin at some point told you can be a mockery of an applause.

Colour me impressed, aberrant.. The voice comes back, this time without even pretending to come from mouth of a possessed man. It is not often I am robbed of someone who gives himself to me willingly. I will admit that your way of wielding words is formidable.

“You still don’t understand.” You say as you process the insinuation that you were manipulating Vult to remove him from the fight.

Don’t waste your breath trying this on me. Comes a reply. You will not find me so easy to fool. However, in recognition of your very particular strength, I’m willing to extend my offer to you one more time.

“The answer is still-” You don’t even have to think about this.

Before you say something you’ll very briefly regret, consider this. All your efforts are in vain. You may have prevailed in your egg measuring contest, but your self imposed mission is a hopeless failure. My minions are already harvesting their due among those you’ve set out to protect.

The blackness recedes slightly, and shapes emerge from it. Shapes teeming and numerous, shapes packed thick against each other and engrossed in motion.

Energetic, organic, primal motion.

There are familiar images among the shapes. Familiar faces, even. Shown in painstaking, lifelike detail, to the point where you can see, if not colour of their eyes, then at least their gaze and expression they convey.

Dozens of empty, dead stares look past you from all around. Sometimes multiples of the same person, as the image is helpfully projected from multiple angles so that you are truly able to appreciate just what the Beast had in store for your friends.

No. No! You hear a whimper in your mind. This cannot – must not – be true. This is an illusion. A lie. But… it feels so real. It feels just like… Mmmh… the visions...

Your spiritual companion is struggling to reconcile what is shown to you with her own senses.

Was this what the Beast was showing to Celestine when she was trying to use her powers to help you?

You feel your fist clench around grip of your weapon. You could not deny, that your ogre instincts push against your conscious thought, in a mixture of emotions.

But those paled at the indignance you felt when you watched the eyes that you remembered smiling with life and joy degraded into hollow stares.

This would end.

The only question left was, how exactly this end would be brought about.

>Argue with the Beast, mock it to come out and fight you.
>Reach out to one of the illusions. You can save them. You can fix them. It seemed to have worked with Laurentia at least.
>This seems like it’s specifically made to get a rise out of you. Meditate.
>other idea

>>6063289
>>Argue with the Beast, mock it to come out and fight you.

>>6063289
>This seems like it’s specifically made to get a rise out of you. Meditate.

>>6063289
>This seems like it’s specifically made to get a rise out of you. Meditate.

>My minions are already harvesting their due among those you’ve set out to protect.
Ah, yes, surely the being that uses deceit and despair as weapons must be showing us the truth.

>>6063289
>This seems like it’s specifically made to get a rise out of you. Meditate.