Chapter 67

  The throne hall still carried the echo of Raime’s words.

  Orrhal is free.

  Neimar’s expression remained carved in stone—ageless calm perched atop disbelief. The old psion’s eyes narrowed, a crack of genuine confusion slipping through his composure.

  “That is impossible,” he murmured. “I am still maintaining the chains. I feel them. Orrhal is still bound.”

  Raime swallowed, throat dry. He looked again at the failed tutorial quest, there was no doubt, somehow the evil eye got free, and the Sovereign didn’t realize.

  “I failed the quest,” Raime said. “The tutorial is finished, there is no follow up from the System and the portal is now open again. I’m telling you—it’s—”

  A voice cut the air in half.

  “Well now. It seems your new pet project can see the truth better than you.”

  The light in the room looked like it got darker. The temperature dropped, the constant energy residue flowing through the palace stiffened. The air pressed inward like a fist closing around the two of them.

  Raime turned.

  For a heartbeat he thought the shadows along the entrance had simply grown longer.

  But the shadows were bodies.

  Figures. Ten of them. Greyish, hunched, one-eyed—familiar and wrong all at once. Their skin stretched too tight. Jaws split too far. Flesh bulged where it shouldn’t. Each stood utterly still… except for the rippling iris in the center of their faces, purple and white and hungry.

  And then—between them, stepping forward as though he owned the world—walked a tall specimen of that same race, clad in a dark and tattered robe. Not the giant-sized eye, not the chained abomination Raime had met in the mountain. It’s limbs were thin and its face sported a grin that showed a mouth full of sharp teeth, it wasn’t malformed like the others, but that single eye that was watching them was proof enough, this was Orrhal. And it was standing right in front of them, free.

  “What do you think of my new look? This body is… crude,” Orrhal said, rolling his shoulder as if annoyed by its limitations. “But sufficient, don’t you think?.”

  Neimar didn’t twitch. Didn’t breathe, didn’t even blink.

  “You should not be here,” he said simply.

  Orrhal smiled.

  “And yet, here I stand.”

  Raime took one step back, instinct biting down on his nerves. Every instinct screamed to run. Every shard of his being recognized the predator now sharing the room with them.

  Orrhal lifted a hand, studying it like a scholar looking over a flawed artifact.

  “You believed the body chained in the mountain was still me.” His voice silked through the hall with unsettling softness. “It still lives. It still sees. It still feels. But I had no use for it anymore. I… relocated.”

  Neimar spoke with the tone of someone addressing a child playing with gunpowder.

  “You violated three cosmic laws to do that.”

  “Oh?” Orrhal tilted his head. “Only three?”

  “You’ve weakened yourself,” Neimar said. “Regressed in your cultivation, and the damage to your essence is massive.”

  “Oh, while that is true, everything has its reasons… you know what is going to happen if you release my old vessel.” The smile on its face stretched larger, contorting its face. “And you’re bleeding power into chains that bind that empty shell,” Orrhal countered. “That makes us even. Except…” His vertical eye opened.

  Purple fire bloomed.

  “…I have a purpose.”

  Raime felt that gaze like a blade across his mind—sharp, invasive, deliberate. He pulled on his core tight, instincts flaring. And his core resisted the intrusion, barely.

  Orrhal’s smile widened.

  “Hello, little anomaly, oh no wait, you are not an anomaly anymore, bra-vo.” The last word pronounced in perfect italian, with the same accent Raime possess.

  Neimar appeared in front of Raime, psionic force rippling outward. “You will not touch him.”

  “You cannot protect him.” Orrhal lifted its hand, as if testing the limb again. “Not even the System will. Not anymore.”

  “What does that mean?” Raime asked despite himself.

  Orrhal’s attention snapped to him.

  “My freedom means your failure, and your failure means that the System doesn’t put you under special treatment anymore.” His voice sharpened like a shard of glass. “Your fall will allow my return, at last.”

  Raime’s stomach clenched.

  The System had issued this monster a quest.

  Neimar exhaled—a long, tired breath.

  “Why the monologue if your objective is my disciple?”

  Orrhal spread his arms.

  “After all this time together you should know me better than anyone Neimar.” His grin sharpened. “Your end is inevitable, and after millennia of confinement I feel the need of looking at the despair on your face when I will destroy all that you hold dear!”

  Orrhal was shouting now, its power rising and crashing around in waves, cracking the stone and warping the air.

  “You will rue this day! I will take revenge for all the suffering you have caused me, ME! I AM ORRHAL THE DEVOURING EYE! HEIR OF THE HUNGER OF TARIBAK! YOU DISGUSTING LITTL…”

  “Run disciple.”

  Neimar moved first.

  A pulse of psionic force tore down the throne hall, bending the marble floor as if it were cloth. Orrhal countered with a flick of his fingers, and the shockwave rippled between them, warping banners, cracking pillars, shattering the crystalline lamps overhead.

  The throne hall plunged into dimness.

  Raime barely had time to move away from the two powerhouses before the creatures lunged.

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  He met the first with his Thunk—a sweeping arc of metal infused with his core energy. The creature hissed, dodging fast. Raime tried to use his split mind, the second technique from the neural shear path to destibilize it. Its mind was a void, a locked vessel—Orrhal’s presence threaded through their thoughts like a puppeteer’s hand.

  No weakness from that side. Physical fight it is.

  Raime ducked under a clawed swipe, countered with a telekinetic shove, he used more enery than usual, his core providing plenty, and slammed the first creature against a pillar. The impact was so strong it broke the enhanced bones of the creature, but it emitted no sound, like pain wasn’t a word in its vocabulary. As it stood again, nine more came.

  Behind him, Neimar and Orrhal clashed like storms colliding—deafening psionic detonations bending the air in waves, shattering everything not anchored by force.

  “Raime!” Neimar barked, blocking a violet blast. “Go to the gate!”

  Raime barely parried another strike. “I’m trying—!”

  “I will hold them. RUN!”

  Raime didn’t argue again.

  He unleashed a burst of psionic force that hurled two creatures aside and sprinted for the doors. Stone exploded behind him as Orrhal fired a beam of energy at him, but Neimar interpose himself, deflecting it with a thin barrier.

  Raime crashed through the corridor, stone and dust spraying around him. The statues of the ancient Sovereigns witnessed his escape before getting smashed and tossed against him by the pursuing creatures.

  He took a sharp right and entered a hall he knew had a balcony that opened to the outside. He pushed harder, directing the flow of energy coming from his core to strenghten his already powerful body, the sensation was both foreign and new. He wasn’t used to this kind of manipulation of energy, the responsivness to his will was an incredible tool, but still he had to learn how to use it.

  He crossed the hall in a second and saw the capital stretching below—sprawling walkways, broken towers, the high district already feeling the effect of the battle between the two titans. An enormous blade of kinetic energy bisected a mansion in two, the building showering sparks of enhancements failing to keep it together before crashing down into a giant pile of rubble. The creatures didn’t stop to admire the incredible distruction happening all around, they just dropped from the balcony after him, claws outstretched.

  Raime turned around mid-air, and creating a lesser version of a mind lance he shoot it at the closest creature. It clawed at it just before it hit its body, a shower of violet and translucents sparks flew around, distorting the air along with fingers and part of the arm of the creature.

  How the Hell are their bodies so strong?

  His core flared, he sent two blast of telekinesis from his back to make himself fall faster and further away. He sailed over the wall around the palace, just before crossing it he touched it with a foot, using it as a springboard to accelerate further. His levitation was keeping him light, he was shielding his body with a thin barrier to smooth out the worst of the air resistance that was trying to slow him down, and using buildings and streets he followed the way back from when he reached the palace the first time, using rooftops to proceed mostly in a stright line toward the Sea of Grass.

  How much?, he told himself. Will two hours be enough to reach the portal if I push as hard as I can? It took me more than two days before.

  The palace behind him shook. A psychic shockwave rolled through the city, scattering dust, tilting buildings.

  Orrhal’s voice echoed overhead.

  “RUN, HUMAN. IT WILL NOT SAVE YOU.”

  Raime turned around, he was shocked by the palace state. That incredibly resilient stone was collapsing like it was made of sand. But he didn’t stop, he couldn’t stop.

  He crossed a plaza, scattering stones and metallic statues behind him to hinder the pursuing monsters, not only were they incredibly strong, but they were keeping up with him in speed too. One suddenly dropped from the sky—he hit it with a telekinetic spike mid-air, just to see it tanking the blow and resume pursuit a second later.

  Another two chased from the rooftops.

  His energy was getting used faster than he liked. His new core was powerful, yes—but not infinite. Unfortunately this race was a sprint and a marathon all in one, he had to find a way to last until the portal.

  After less than five minutes at a breakneck pace, the city’s industrial district loomed ahead.

  He was nearing the Sea of Grass.

  Behind him—another explosion rocked the skyline.

  Raime looked back just long enough to see Neimar and Orrhal.They were still kilometers away but getting closer, locked mid-air, beams of purple and silver colliding while bending the horizon.

  Neimar’s voice was faint over the clash of energies:

  “KEEP GOING!”

  Raime pushed harder.

  The marble beneath his feet cracked with each step as he funneled energy into movement, crossing the final stretch of the capital. The creatures were relentless, hurling themselves after him without fear.

  One tried to leap onto his back—he seized it with his mind and ripped it away, slamming it into a side street, they didn’t use energy on their own, but it didn’t matter how much he hit them, they always got back and shrugged off injuries. The ones he injured before were already back in top condition.

  He burst through the last of the steets and into open wilderness.

  The Sea of Grass awaited—black, swaying, deceptively peaceful. A vast plain known for hiding horrors beneath its gentle surface. Raime heard the first rustles as he reached its edge.

  He didn’t slow.

  He sprinted into the tall grass, he was still getting used to his new energy, now making it flow better, each step dented the ground while pushing him faster and faster. His core hummed. His mind split into differents one to calculate vectors, moving his body and keep awareness on his surroundings.

  Behind him, city rooftops flashed with violet. Something massive roared—a psychic shockwave that made the plain ripple like water.

  The creatures pursued.

  The grass parted as something else stirred too—the native predators drawn by movement.

  Let’s see in this works.

  Raime timed it perfectly,he slowed down slightly, then telekinetically pushed the ground a few meters in front of him. Tremors could be felt under the ground, and then stepped into that same spot a moment later, the beast erupted in a shower of damp earth and missed raime by a breath, but it didn’t miss the creature just a step behind.

  One of the ten got swallowed by a beast, Nine left. Raime didn’t even had time to celebrate before the gluttonous beast exploded from within, a shower of blood and guts revealing the monster, scraped and cut by the beast teeth but still alive. Ten left.

  Raime didn’t stop.

  He couldn’t.

  The forest lay beyond the plains.

  The portal lay beyond the forest.

  He had to run as fast as he could, he was becoming faster and faster the more he used his core. But it wasn’t enough. Neimar was having trouble keeping Orrhal away from him, many times Raime thought he was going to die from a stray attack. Their power was immense, they were destroying everything around them, and considering that Orrhal apparently was weakened by his body swap, and Neimar was already exhausted before starting the fight even begun. Raime didn’t want to imagine what would have been a fight at full power.

  He felt the burning shadow of Orrhal sweeping across the sky like a descending blade.

  An energy projectile flew toward him, he felt it with his expanded awareness, it was moving so fast that he just had time to twist his body sideways.

  The attack would have hit him if his silvery cloak didn’ help by pulling him just a bit more. While passing near him the energy burned through his armour, melting the threads composing it and cooking raime abdomen to a crisp.

  Raime grit his teeth, suppressed the pain and ran harder, breath tearing from his lungs.

  He could feel fear riding his spine. Could feel the pull of death behind him. Could feel the Rift trembling under the weight of two ancient beings clashing—

  —and he forced his body forward. His weapons trailing far behin him were harassing the creatures, keeping them at a distance, trying to make them stumble. But they were not powerful or sharp enough to even hurt them.

  He tried again to trick the beasts prowling the grass to attack, but they were too slow, the only positive was that the flying monster were not approaching the calamity that was Neimar and Orrhal fight.

  Still behind him the Sovereign was trying his all to keep Orrhal away from him, exchanging blow after blow both in melee and ranged attacks, and raime was sure of it, in a battle between their minds too.

  If only Neimar wasn’t stuck to protect him, or to keep the old body of Orrhal chained, he could win the battle, Raime was sure of it. But the reality was that this battle was planned since the beginning by a being millennia old, it escape, created an adverse condition to weaken its adversary, and struck when Neimar was at his weakest, messing up any chance for Raime to complete his quest.

  Still there was nothing he could do now, except getting as furter away as he could, the sooner he reached the portal the better. We only get this one chance. He redoubled his efforts, put it all into mastering again the flow of his energy and to use his new attributes to their maximum potential, little by little he started gaining grownd, accelerating further and further while keeping his energy expenditure beareble. The battle behind him got more and more distant, the creatures following him too were so far behind he couldn’r see them anymore. Raime didn’t slow even for a second, his body was starting to get tired after more than half an hour of maximum exhertion, but he pushed more, faster and faster, to gain ground, to cross the plains and reach the other side.

  I can do it… I will do it.

  The Sea of Grass streatched to the horizon still, but Raime knew that he crossed already the majority of it, and indeed after less than ten minutes he could faintly see a treeline far in the distance. At the speed he was running it was the trees that seemed about to come crashing toward him. He changed the pace of his gait and some twenty meters before entering the forest he flooded his legs with energy and jumped.

  Despite the barrier, the air screamed into his ears as he catapulted himself over the forest. At the apex of his lump he saw the portal far in the distance, faintly shifting, it was active again.

  What captured his attention though, were the hundreds of creatures arrayed in front of it. Their violet eyes all watching his approach.

  Oh fuck…