บท 55: Lord Charles Brarnsaiph vs The Crimson Merchant
Back at House Brarnsaiph, the chaos had settled into an uneasy silence. The once grand halls were now littered with the detritus of battle: broken furniture, shattered glass, and the faint, metallic scent of blood.
Lord Charles Brarnsaiph, his breath still ragged from the fight, paced the floor, his eyes searching for any sign of survivors.
His heart sank as he rounded the corner and beheld the grim scene before him. The members of House Brarnsaiph were pinned to the wall, their bodies limp, their faces etched with pain.
His eyes scanning the aftermath with a cold detachment. The remains of several creatures lay scattered on the ground, twisted and unrecognizable. It was a macabre tableau, a testament to the horrors that had unfolded here. The smell of burnt flesh mingled with the ever-present stench, turning his stomach.
From the shadows of a distant corner, a figure emerged. It was the Crimson Merchant, his crimson cloak stained and torn. His eyes gleamed with a madness that sent a shiver down Lord Charles spine.
"So, you survived," the Merchant said, his voice a dry rasp that seemed to echo through the hollow halls. "Your tenacity is... noteworthy."
Lord Charles met the Merchant's gaze, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. "Did you do this to my members?"
The Crimson Merchant's smile was twisted. "They served their purpose," he replied with a shrug.
Without warning, the air around Lord Charles crackled with energy. He threw his hand out, and a wall of earth erupted from the floor, separating them. The Merchant chuckled, a sound that seemed to resonate with the very stones of the mansion. He snapped his fingers, and a bolt of crimson light shot through the barrier, splitting it like paper. The ground trembled as roots surged from the fissure, wrapping around the Merchant's body and forming a whip that lashed at Lord Charles.
Lord Charles summoned a shield of water, the droplets coalescing into a shimmering barrier that absorbed the whip's impact. The water rippled with the force of the blow, but held firm. He countered with a sweep of his sword, sending a pressure wave rippling through the room. The Merchant stepped aside, the wave shattering the remaining windows and sending shards of glass flying like a storm of crystal shrapnel.
The Crimson Merchant's eyes narrowed, and he began to weave a dance of colors around him. A swirl of red, blue, and green coalesced into a dizzying array of light and shadow, the colors pulsing in time with his heartbeat. Lord Charles' eyes widened as he felt his perception skew, the walls of the mansion seeming to close in around him. The Merchant's illusion was potent, but the lord remained focused, his hand tightening around the sword's hilt.
With a roar, Lord Charles slammed his sword into the ground, and a wave of dark energy shot through the earth, cracking the stone beneath their feet. The room quaked as the earthquake spread, knocking the Merchant off balance. But he was not so easily deterred. The Merchant's cloak fluttered wildly as he chanted an incantation, his eyes burning with a fierce light. From the fabric of the cloak, a burst of crimson energy shot forth, countering the earthquake's power.
„He is an Artist! I'm very sure, but I wonder what stage he's at? It must be at least the fourth, otherwise he wouldn't be able to keep up with me." Lord Charles thought to himself, as his gaze remained focused on his opponent.
The mansion's walls began to weep as if in despair, the paint peeling away to reveal the bare stone beneath. The floor buckled and rolled like a stormy sea. The Crimson Merchant leapt into the air, his cloak fluttering like the wings of a demonic bird. His hands painted the air with streaks of color, and a torrent of flame erupted from his fingertips, aiming for Lord Charles' unguarded face.
With a swift motion, Lord Charles raised a wall of water to shield himself. The flames hissed and sizzled against the barrier, the heat steaming the water into a mist that filled the room. Through the haze, he could see the Merchant's grin widen, the light from his flaming hand casting eerie shadows across his features.
The Crimson Merchant began to clap, he was obviously enjoying himself, "Very good, you are better than I expected! I will tell you my real name as a sign of respect. Vidan Sutulin, a pleasure to meet you."
Lord Charles gritted his teeth, "The pleasure is not mutual."
He sliced through the air with his sword, releasing a pressure wave that sent a sonic boom echoing through the chamber. The sound was deafening, shaking the very foundations of the mansion. The Crimson Merchant, unphased, conjured a mirror before Lord Charles' eyes, the glass surface rippling with a kaleidoscope of colors. Reflected within, he saw not his own visage, but a vision of his greatest fears and regrets.
The room around them warped and distorted, the walls pulsing with the rhythm of the Merchant's heart. Lord Charles staggered, his mind reeling from the onslaught of illusions. Yet, he remained focused, his training as a knight and his resolve to protect his city keeping him steady. He swiped his sword through the mirror, shattering the reflection into a thousand shards of color that scattered like confetti in the air.
With a roar, Lord Charles called upon the earth itself, causing the floor to crack and split beneath the Merchant. The Crimson Merchant, anticipating the move, levitated slightly, his cloak billowing around him like a living entity. He raised his hand, and a bolt of green lightning streaked from his palm, aiming for the cracks. The ground erupted with plant life, vines and thorns wrapping around the roots that had been thrown at him, entangling them in a dance of nature and chaos.
The Merchant cackled as he watched the vines pull the roots back into the ground, their power neutralized. His eyes flashed with blue as he sent a blast of arctic wind at Lord Charles, freezing the water shield into a cocoon of ice. The lord's teeth chattered, but his resolve did not waver. He focused his own magic, the chilling winds shattering the ice into a flurry of shards that showered the room.
With a fluid motion, Lord Charles spun his sword in a wide arc, creating a gust of wind that sent the shards hurtling towards the Crimson Merchant. The Merchant, anticipating the move, vanished, reappearing on the opposite side of the chamber. His cloak unfurled like the wings of a demon, a whirlwind of leaves and dust following him.
„That guy doesn't take me seriously... That's really bad! He counters every attack, his speed is unnatural.... Am I going to lose?" Lord Charles started panicking, as he realized that nothing was working.
[HAHAHAHA HAHAHA HAHAHHAHHAHAHA]
The Crimson Merchant's laughter echoed through the chamber like the taunts of a mad jester. He danced around the room, his cloak trailing behind him like a river of blood. With a flourish, he conjured a storm of purple lightning that crackled and snapped with a malevolent energy that seemed to seek out Lord Charles' very soul.
He braced himself, his eyes narrowing in concentration. The floor beneath him trembled as he called forth the power of the earth, causing the stones to rise and form a shield around him. The lightning struck, the purple tendrils arcing through the air, only to be absorbed by the earthen barrier. The room shook with the force of the collision, dust raining from the ceiling like ash from a funeral pyre.
[HAHAHAHH AHAHAHAHHA HHAHAHAHAHA]
But the Crimson Merchant was relentless. His laughter grew louder, a cacophony of madness that seemed to resonate with the very air itself. The leaves and dust swirling around him coalesced into a tornado, the winds howling with the anguished cries of the damned. The whirlwind crashed into Lord Charles' earthy fortress, shattering it into a cloud of debris.
As the dust settled, Lord Charles found himself surrounded by a ring of fire. Heat blistered the air, the flames licking at his skin. He raised his sword, and with a sharp inhale, he unleashed a torrent of water, extinguishing the fire. The room was plunged into darkness, the only light coming from the Merchant's crimson eyes, glowing like embers in the shadow.
The Crimson Merchant chuckled, the sound echoing around the room like the whispers of the damned. "Your power is formidable, lord," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Lord Charles' eyes narrowed in determination. He knew that brute force was not going to be enough to defeat him. He had to outwit him. The Merchant was playing a game, and he had to play it better. He studied his opponent, looking for any sign of weakness.
The Crimson Merchant grew bored of the stalemate. With a dramatic sweep of his hand, he summoned a tidal wave of fire that rolled towards Lord Charles. But as the flames engulfed him, they suddenly parted, revealing the lord standing on a platform of water. He had anticipated the Merchant's next move.
Vidan's smile faltered for a fraction of a second before it grew into a twisted grin. "Very clever," he murmured, his eyes flickering with a newfound respect for his adversary. He clapped his hands together, and the fire retreated into his palms, condensing into a pair of crimson orbs.
With a flick of his wrist, the orbs shot towards Lord Charles, each one leaving a trail of fiery residue in the air. The lord dove to the side, his water platform dissipating as he rolled to avoid the fiery projectiles. He managed to dodge one, but the second struck his side, the pain searing through his flesh like a red-hot iron. He staggered, his grip on his sword faltering.
The Merchant took advantage of his momentary weakness, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. His cloak wrapped around Lord Charles, the crimson fabric feeling like the embrace of a fiery python. The lord's eyes bulged as he struggled for breath, his vision darkening at the edges. The Merchant leaned in close, his breath hot against Lord Charles' ear. "You fought well," he whispered, "but now, it's time to pay the price."
With a savage yank, he pulled the lord to his feet and hurled him through the air like a ragdoll. Lord Charles smashed into the far wall, the impact leaving a crater of cracked stone. His sword clattered to the floor, useless. The Crimson Merchant approached, his footsteps echoing through the desolate mansion like the drumbeat of doom.
His eyes gleamed with a sadistic pleasure as he surveyed the broken man before him. "Your defiance amuses me," he sneered.
With a flick of his wrist, the Merchant sent a bolt of crimson energy at Lord Charles, the impact sending him hurtling across the room. The force of the blow threw the lord into the wall with a sickening crunch, the stones cracking around him. He slid to the ground, leaving a smear of crimson behind him. The room was eerily silent, save for the Crimson Merchant's echoing laughter and the fading whispers of the dying mansion.
[AHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAH]
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