章節 48: Chapter 45: A Flower In A Sea Of Smoke
Silence still ruled the battlefield. Mouths would open, but few sounds could compete with the absolute, deafening silence that had swiftly followed the all-consuming noise. Still, the quiet crackling of ice splintering under the stress of the force it had been subjected to, and the pounding noise that rang constantly rang inside of Tim's head were certainly listed under those few sounds. Tim grasped canisters of gas in both hands, objects once reassuring and firm with their power, but now even their creator was wondering if they could finish the job. He stumbled closer and closer as fast as he could make his legs move. Ahh. It seemed so far away.
Beside him, a hand grasped his shoulder, followed by a half-finished question too muffled to make out. A question that, like all other distractions, was ignored. It was repeated, but Tim staggered on, past the remains of the tree line. A faint rustling of clothing wormed its way past the noises that drowned out all others. A rustling, ignored like the question. Familiar shapes emerged from behind the half-elf, registering in the corner of his eyes.
The demon assigned to assist him, and a rather… singed-looking Bert.
The sight alone was almost enough to break Tim's concentration. If it had been any other moment that he had seen the strongman of a dwarf missing his eyebrows and looking so much like the charcoal his people used in furnaces, Tim would have been on the floor in laughter. Instead, they grimly followed his lead.
From the ruins of the fort, the petals of the icy, human-sized flower continued to crack and fall. Each splintering sound thundered across the now-open fields. A tremendous noise, but only a pale imitation of what Tim had created without the use of magic.
However, little movement from the hero himself. Wounded? Definitely.
Tim weighed his few options in his head as the unlikely party moved towards the shattered gates.
No sign of Elena. Either she got caught up in the blast too, or Mavier's taking care of her. Either way, jack shit I can do about her right now.
They finally reached the gates, the remains of the icy flower coming into view, along with its bloodied occupant. The occupant that still had not reacted to the Bastille's currently living population rising above one. Tim finally broke his death glare at Kevin, glancing towards his companions.
Bert, a few of the tougher gangsters, and the demon lady. And… I think that's Dimitre approaching? Better late than never. Altogether, a group that increased the chances of this working, despite most of them only being there because the alternative was an extremely horrifying death. Tim brushed that fact aside. They were scumbags anyways. The demons were… surprising, though. Even if they had possibly started all of this in the first place, they still stood with him. And he didn't even know most of their names.
Tim shook his head to clear his wandering thoughts and opened his mouth, ignoring the protesting of his loose tooth.
"Alright lads!" Tim croaked with as much volume as he could muster. "Let the bastard have it!"
He raised his arm, and accompanied by the surprisingly loud screams of triumph from the demons, lobbed the fragile canister of sarin neurotoxin towards the standing, yet unmoving figure in the flower of ice.
Several more canisters followed, arcing through the air with a sort of simple beauty. Kevin stood motionless within the flower as if he too were holding his frozen breath. Tim peered closer, and smirked as a small detail was unveiled before his eyes in the seconds it took for the first canister to land.
The skin of the hero, something that would normally be unbreakable for a commoner like Tim, was cracked from the rapid changes in temperature brought by the explosion, the phosphorus, and the ice. Truly magnificent.
The first canister hit the debris at Kevin's unmoving feet with an inaudible clatter, breaking open unceremoniously to reveal, well, nothing. And as the rest of the canisters landed to the same result, and Tim frantically motioned for a retreat, the canisters showed the same result. Nothing.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Santet followed the half-elf in his fast retreat, her brows crinkled in confusion. All that buildup, for nothing? Still, she was bound to follow Tim's orders, by the will of her lord. She looked ahead to the obliterated tree line, where her comrade Dimitre trotted towards them with his sword in hand. He, too, had an expression of confusion on his face. Well, no sense in dragging this out.
"Did… something go wrong? Should I contact Lord Mavier to finish the job?" Santet questioned with a concerned tone in her voice. They had simply come too far to not finish the job, after all.
"Nah." Tim glanced at her. "Sarin's a colorless gas." And, as if that explained everything, Tim pivoted around to stare at the hero in the debris. "Still, better call your lord over. I'd rather be safe than sorry. And Dimitre? Sorry to ask you this since you just got here, but would you mind finding where the hell that cleric hero is? I haven't seen hide nor hair of her since they split."
Santet bit back an exasperated sigh, instead funneling her feelings on the subject into energy and running towards where she had last seen her lord. She hoped that the half-elf was right.
And that Lord Mavier hadn't caught part of the blast either.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Kevin could hardly feel the majority of his body, and he couldn't quite grasp what was going on. Even the parts that he could feel felt… off. They felt wrong. Like he was back on Earth, waking up with a hangover after a drunken spree of fighting, boozing, and general partying the night before. Only worse, even more than that one time he did street drugs with some crack whore. Hell, he couldn't even muster the strength to open his eyes.
Let's see… I was helping out my bitch of a coworker to axe that demon for good. And… I think we chased it to that castle place. Castle? No. Bastille. That's right. The lizard punched out the gates and fled in. I think Elena went around? Yeah. That sounds right. To trap him. And I walked into the Bastille to take him out.
Kevin's thoughts gradually organized themselves, but still. Something felt missing.
I couldn't find the bastard, I think. And then…
His body started to faintly shake as his thoughts continued to organize themselves.
Ahh… it was hot. So very hot. Like my skin was melting, almost as if I was a candle in a furnace. I… threw up something icy? Yeah. That ice spell I made a while back. Meant for one last asspull if somehow I got overwhelmed in a fight. That explains the cold.
Ohh, that bitter cold. Despite his overall immobility, Kevin involuntarily shivered at the memory.
It was so, very cold. Like his skin itself was cracking from the frost. A cold so deep that it fell back around to a burning agony of freezing chill.
That last memory finally gave Kevin the strength to force open his eyelids, inhaling from surprise as his knees gave out on him, sending the hero crashing to the ground and gasping for breath. With all the effort he could muster, Kevin raised his head above his broad shoulders, his heaving lungs forgotten as he took in the sheer devastation. There was just no other way to describe it. Of course, Kevin was fully aware he could cause even more destruction with a few spells if he wanted to, but that was the kicker.
He hadn't even felt any mana in the fortress.
Sure, it was no exact science, and it was downright a waste of time to try sensing mana for smaller spells, but for something as grand as this? Any idiot with some magic in them could tell it was coming before the spell could finish. That's why he hadn't bothered casting anything like this against that demon hero. It was just a waste, it would be dispelled or dodged.
Kevin shook his head, shaking hands rising to wipe a string of drool oozing from his mouth. It matters not. Once I regroup with Elena, we can outnumber that fucker and force the truth out. He cast his eyes around, searching for one of the heroes. Abruptly, his vision paused. A few figures in the distance. His heart rate began to pound, drumming a marching beat that drilling into his skull.
Was that… a demon? Kevin forced his vision to focus on the distant group of people, scanning over them one-by-one. And, just as he was about to dismiss them as irrelevant bystanders, he froze.
A half-elf.
Dimly, through the fog that was threatening to take over his brain, Kevin could hear…
Ah. What was her name again? Something. It was a woman. A woman telling him about a half-elf. He had done something… bad to her? And… something bad… to him?
If he could just remember, but it was just so hard to think. For his mind to gather the scraps of his thoughts together into a coherent form. Shaky hands wiped away a thick strand of phlegm and snot dripping down a face.
A face.
Was it his face? Or was it someone else's?
Oh, yes! That's right! It was his face. Kevin's face. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. The half-elf. He was responsible for something Kevin disliked.
Now, what was it again. Why did it have to be so hard to think?
Kevin doubled over, bile rushing out of his throat to cover his shoes in the remains of his last meal, his lungs heaving as he tried to get air, any air he could.
His lungs! That's right, that bastard attacked him. With what, Kevin could not remember. All he could remember about it was the sickly color of yellow and wheezing sound from his lungs that had surrounded him in that white bed. Where was that. The hospital? Yes. That seemed correct. Maybe killing that person would make things better.
His heart continued to rapidly slam itself against his sore rib cage.
Why can't it just quiet down.
Kevin's arms attempted to raise again to fight against the constant stream of sweat, drool, and snot that streamed down his face. Only, even attempting that motion required more energy that Kevin could bear to muster at the moment.
He slowly blinked, the action itself feeling like it took years to complete.
I'll… I'll just lay down a bit.
It will all be fine, right?
Hm.
What was I going to do again?
A sturdy body thudded to the ground.
And thus passed Kevin Elnson.
創作者的想法 
CarthagoDelendaEst
CarthagoDelendaEst After some chapters, I find it rather easy to think of some stupid or dark joke to end things with in the post-authors note. This is a bit more of a somber note, however. Because, at chapter 45, Kevin Elnson is dead. Certainly an antagonist, but even the evilist of bastards can still make one feel melancholy or a little bit sad when they pass.
And I am feeling a bit melancholy.
Anyways, thanks as always for reading.
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Sincerely,
Cato
One of two authors
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