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17.49% Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions / Chapter 46: I Am Legion

章節 46: I Am Legion

[🎶 Monsters – Ruelle.]

THE PLAINS OF THE NORTH were endless. No one knew where it began, nor where it ended—if it dropped right off the earth Camerlengo insisted was one in a million more, or if it was the apocalyptic gateway as the Papacy instituted, into the world of evil. Either way, the falling snows continued to shower the earth as light mist.

Rafel pulled his winged black stallion up an incline of ice and stared out into the silvery panorama.

A snow storm lurked in the horizon.

"The vale of Magvath is just beyond that Alp."

Rafel pointed to a final mountain, the greatest among the cluster spread in the icy region, its pencil tip reaching and hidden in the approaching gray clouds. Giselle was astride her saddle beside him. Yemaya was beside her. Her Lizadron licked at its webbed feet that made it skate ice like a reindeer in the night Yule sky.

"A storm approaches, Your Graces!" Ser Romulus, the Queen's right hand Lieutenant hailed behind.

Rafel turned on the incline to glance down at the man. He then looked outward towards the armies spread across the tundra like black leaves dispersed in snow. The storm was going to hit in a hour. He intended to be past that ice mountain by then. And finally, bring an end to the frozen crusaders.

It was Giselle who echoed his thoughts, "We keep marching, Lieutenant! Get the Witches to implore the Goddess of the Hearth, summon warmth in the heart of warriors, and make sure to keep the blood flowing—to all areas. Are we clear?"

Ser Romulus blushed at this. But quickly saluted to hide it out.

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

He swiftly turned around and marched down to command the host.

They encountered the first Nephilim at an impasse at the foot of the mountain. The blue giant lay on his side, with a great macabre axe clutched to his side. He heaved on it, his big blue head bald and snoring like a pregnant mare. He was a sentry who guarded the iron gates that blocked the way through the alp. As high into the clouds as the mountain was, there was no exit but through it.

It was a monolith rampart. A refuge built into the very glacier for the Grey Stags. Now the rampart had being taken and the Nephilims were using it to keep trespassers from leaking into their camp—which Rafel guessed was just behind the alp. He could see the runes of ancient Celestial magic which those legendary druids of old had used to imprison the offspring of the Titans.

They shimmered and glowed on the obsidian metal of the magical doorway. Alphabets immune to a mortal's tongue. Only true witches of pure bloodlines could read and pronounce the spells to unlock the full potential of the wards.

This alp was one of the many in the chain lined across the tundra that served as pillars for the veil which had kept the blue Giants back—until now.

The Nephilims had conquered the Stags and converted their prison into a fortress for their campaign.

Giselle mocked the sleeping giant with her eyes.

"Seems like they aren't expecting company. How foolish!" she told Rafel.

At the Fey Queen's whispering, the giant slowly opened his eyes. Blue like the frost around him, it took him a moment to blink his heavy dosing away. His pale lips curled to a snarl as his eyes leveled on the gilded Eldorian banners. He instantly knew he beheld the armies of the adversary.

The bald, blue giant rose to his feet.

He opened his mouth to yell,

"RAIDERS! RAI—"

But Giselle's Lieutenant, Ser Romulus grabbed his spear and sent it hurling out across to the Giant with savage speed. The sharp metal arrowhead slammed into the big blue head, right between the eyes. The spear sank in through the skull, the ivory tip bursting put the back of the Giant's fat neck. The spear's tip was no longer silver. It glowed crimson as fresh blood poured out the open hole.

Ser Romulus spat as the Nephilim crashed to the ground.

"You may be half-Titan, motherfucker. But you still bleed red!"

The blue giant fell to the earth on the knees. Blood dripped out his forehead, running down and soaking the snows around him. He lifted his huge, ham hands and tried to feel for the spear's handle.

"Ooh! I wouldn't do that if I were you!" Giselle taunted. But it was clear in her manic gold eyes how much she wanted him to.

The idiot Nephilim grabbed the end of the long spear and pulled hard—stupid giant thought he had a better chance of surviving if the javelin was out. The arrowhead sliced out soaked in his blood and brain. The open hole now poured torrents of leaking life. With a final dumbfounded glaze in his blue eyes, the giant breathed his last.

The spear fell from his fingertips and he crashed heavily to the cold ground.

The snows absorbed his fountain of blood like a fleece.

With the sentry dead, Corazón swiftly hacked into the magical system of the doorway and unlocked the metal gates. A loud grating began as the solid block of iron began to slide up to let them through. Ancient Fae runes danced in blue and silver glyphs of floating magic, swirling into the alp and vanishing.

Rafel pulled the reins on his Pegasus, Agamemnon. The winged beast neighed proudly and marched first through the raised gates. It stomped the Nephilim's head for good effect. The skull caved in under the strong black hooves and a gory mess seeped into the snow. Brain matter trailed after the horse's galloping.

Giselle's Griffin and Yemaya's Lizadron each shared the pair of the giant's eyes which had popped out his squashed head. The Queen's silver Griffin gulped down the orb greedily before ruffling it's large wings and hurrying through the gates after Rafel's horse.

And so it was that the entire four hundred thousand of Eldorian, Atlantean, and Rocasian armies marched through the foot of the mountain and into the hidden realms of Rumbrun. It was as the host emptied out from the gateway that Rafel turned to comment on Giselle's earlier words.

"The Giants were not foolish in placing one guard at the gates. Not at all. They thought we wouldn't be foolish enough to risk a journey of a fortnight into the North to confront them. I think they were relying on the threat of the severe winter, the ice beasts, and carnivorous forests to keep us south.

And now that I think on it, I think they are foolish after all. . .for thinking we would be."

The frightfully immense Alp was now behind them. Its towering peak rose and rose into the black skies, narrowing to the zenith which couldn't be seen. It was larger than life, and if it erupted would crumble all of Rumbrun to dust. A horde of blue Giants buried in the wastelands under a subzero avalanche for eternity.

Rafel stopped his horse and pondered this idea for a moment—destroying the mountain.

Yes, it would annihilate all of Rumbrun. But what of his host?

He quickly voted against the idea. A battle would have to do.

[🎶 Dusk Till Dawn – ZAYN ft. Sia.]

More Legions of the armies funneled out through the arch in the foot of the mountain, spreading out and taking positions in companies of ten thousand, each troop led by a Myriad Commander. They continued like this for a while until all four hundred thousand assembled in battle splendor.

Shield bearers were in front.

Archers behind them. The Wild Shapes among, and the sorceresses and wizards behind those.

The elite infantry and saddled cavalry were the last in formation.

It was a sight of epic Military strides.

Rafel looked behind and smiled. His host would make the Romans blush.

A mile and half of flat snowy plains stretched out in front of them, before abruptly dropping into a wide valley. The ravine was deep and steep, like a Titan—one of the primordial ones—had reached in and scooped out a slice of the earth. The wide mysterious crater was a berth in the snowfall.

The vale of Magvath.

Giselle mused that the name suited it.

"The valley of the Goddess of Death," she said aloud, interpreting.

Just as Rafel predicted, the snowstorm was right above them now. It would rain and thrash on the vale. And it would grant an ample advantage for his armies against the giants. The Nephilims own great size would be their downfall. In the mists to come, they wouldn't be able to see the Eldorian soldiers crawl up to their legs and hack them dead.

The skies above were a thick black. A dreary omen.

Far across the eerie vale, on the other end, Rafel saw the horde of Nephilims. Beyond the valley they had made camp.

Their tents stretched out vastly in the snow. Corpses of Stags in various stages of decay were mounted on stakes around the camp. Flayed bodies. Beheaded bodies. Disemboweled. Faceless. Limbs hacked away. The fresher ones roasting by some tents. An utter defilement.

"Cannibalistic pricks!" Giselle hissed.

Rafel grabbed her hand to calm her.

"We have the advantage. The blue fuckers haven't made us yet."

Giselle squeezed his fingers, and Rafel turned a full circle on his steed to look around. First to his wife, Yemaya. Then to the chariot on which stood his dear Corazón and slave, Aya Naamah. When all women nodded and Ser Romulus saluted, Rafel knew it was time.

He glanced again to Giselle, placing all authority in her hands. He respected her that much.

"We are ready, Your Majesty."

In a harmony borne of unified hearts to plunder, the Apollyon: Israfel BlüdThïrste, the Fey Queen: Giselle Van Imperia, the Dark Witch: Corazón Mortimer, the [Rank A] Succubus: Aya Naamah, all lifted and pulled on their shined helmets.

Giselle sent her golden Fae eyes straight forward. A celestial flame sparked in them.

"SOUND THE TRUMPETS!" she ordered to her Lieutenant.

Ser Romulus lifted his hand and waved the signal.

All Myriad Commanders stood stiffly and chests puffed out. The bugle sounded first, and then, came the mighty war trumpets, blaring across the plains and valley and shocking the blue Giants beyond to their feet.

The hills of snow trembled and the riding beasts complimented with their own war cries.

"For the glory of the Continent! For the glory of Eldoria! ONWARDS TO VICTORY!" Giselle yelled out with the shout of a Valkyrie.

The Commanders gave the charge and the Archers of all companies dipped and nocked.

"LOOSE!" The thunder of unison broke out in the air.

As a thousand fiery arrows shot high into the air, Giselle rushed out furiously across the plain to the valley, leading the charge with screaming to chill the blood. She was a fierce queen. And riding with her was Rafel and the Atlantean goddess.

Rafel rubbed Agamemnon's frothing muzzle and the black Pegasus instantly spread its wings. Bulk of exerting muscles shifted as midnight feathers rippled into the cold wind. Agamemnon took flight, and as the legions of Eldoria tore down the vale of Magvath toward the frantic camp of Nephilims, Rafel rode into the black skies above them.

He was the Winter Demon, sailing into the skies and blessing the armies with courage and valor.

The spread wings of his Pegasus casted a great shadow on the valley beneath. It was a fearful sight.

In the air, Rafel summoned to his right palm a large ball of [Hellfire]. And with his monstrous [Titan Grasp], which shot out as a gigantic and grotesque crimson fist out his back, he sent the ball of cosmic flame hurling downwards to the tents of the giants.

The Nephilims scattered in all directions at the raw fury of the descending comet. It was blinding as the sun, falling like Lucifer from heaven, with a wrathful vengeance and accompanied by the Archers rain of flaming arrows.

The onslaught of battle hit the earth, and the explosion made the forces jump.

The camp of Rumbrun received the devastating heat of [Hellfire]. Many giants ran helter skelter, naked and burning among the flaming tents. Their blue flesh roasting. The camp descended into utter chaos. The comet's blast took a thousand. The rain of arrows took ten thousand.

In that moment of glorious violence, the heavens tore open and the snowstorm fell.

It whipped the earth like whips of a [Tormentor] demon. A gale with the force of whirlwinds screeched across the vale and spurred on the host of Eldoria. Rafel rode down from the clouds with the fury of the snows. His Pegasus, Agamemnon folded its midnight wings as his pale rider joined the Fey Queen in her ride to destroy the giants.

Four hundred thousand warriors that dusk, flooded the valley of Magvath. The cold froze the spittle on their beards. But with armor glinting, longswords brandished and battle sandals thrashing the earth, the soldiers roared into battle.

Even the arctic temperatures of the vale could not dim the spark in the legions of Eldoria.


章節 47: The Giantslayer

[🎶 No Time To Die – Billie Eilish.]

THE FROST GIANT, OGBAL EKRON managed to assemble his horde of huge, dumb barbarians to something of a force.

Several of his men were burning piles of human steak, hundreds more flaming in the present, screaming in their hoarse giant voices and seeking the nearest barrels of anything liquid to jump into. But even water could not douse the flames of [Hellfire] Rafel had poured into their camp. And the witches of Eldoria had intentionally armed the arrows of the Archers with deadly spiritflame. It poisoned the blood and turned the skin into fuel for it, so that the fire never ceased to blaze.

The OGBAL of the Nephilims, Ekron, with a loud maleficent voice ordered all his dumbfounded soldiers to a massive gathering about him.

"Oi! Get your shit together, you fecking wankers! Ye run and hide in the face of mere mortals? All these years among frost and bears, and you'd think ye have learned a thing or two about survival. Get yer running arses to me! Leave the burning ones to burn. There is no hope for them in the infernos of the underworld.

But we must rally. We will not show fear in the eyes of these pale cunts! We will fight back and show them the true strength of the Nephilim. Are we descendants of Titans or blue smudges in the snow? TELL ME?!"

Ekron roared.

"DESCENDANTS OF THE TITANS!" came the answering thunder of his fellow giants.

In the circle of their fallen, burned brothers and amongst a camp razed in orange flames, under clouds black as Erebus' cold loins and in whipping hail of frost, and confronted with the drumming booms of an approaching army, the Nephilims stood around their leader and tried their best not to shiver in fear. The eyes of the dark goddess, Magvath, revealed in the eerie firmament above blinked at their plight.

She would pity the blue Giants if their end hadn't already been sealed by the Fates. Magvath was just present to claim the lives offered. It was her valley after all.

"OGBAL!" A Giant smaller than the others stepped out from the massive circle. He greeted Ekron in title as chieftain of the horde. OGBAL—meaning Chief in the native tongue.

"Yes." Ekron regarded the warrior.

"All graces be to ye, OGBAL! But should we not retreat? Avoid this plunder and live to fight another day? The earth and winds are against us. The fecking sky bleeds hail of fire and snow at the same time. We have survived many a century, surely if we bid our time, we can—"

The speaking Giant was abruptly clubbed in the head. His words died on his lips as the side of his face was smashed in. His tongue was cut cleanly in half by the shock on his own teeth. Fresh red pooled and leaked out his mouth. Fallen to the earth, the smaller Giant lifted up his eyes to see Ekron poised above him, brimming in sulphur and rage, burning tents his backdrop.

Ekron spat on him.

"You will us to retreat? You are a chicken! Not worthy of bearing our name. You are even worse than the mortals."

Ekron lifted his great club in the air again. It was wide as a beam, hollowed out from a Wyrmwood and thicker than a felled pine. The span of it was so great the shadow of it covered all of the beaten Giant's head. Ekron swung mightily, bringing it down with great impact, and the other Giant's head smashed right off his neck.

The sudden decapitation doused the air with blood. Ekron's club rested heavy with gushing blood. Remnants of the cowardly giant's head rained down with the snow as bits of bone and a drizzle of sticky blood. The rest of the horde quickly fell in line.

Lifting his great blue head, adorned in beaded dreadlocks reaching down to his knees, Ekron was a force of nature. A juggernaut carved from ice. He would not retreat.

Never.

Charms of his Dark Sorceress, the one who reanimated the Stag they sent to the puny whore Queen of the mortals, dangled down his great, naked chest. Slabs of rigid blue muscle heaved as he hefted the club up on his shoulders. Spilled blood leaked down the rotund bulb across his mighty shoulders and down his back.

"We shall not retreat," said the OGBAL of the horde simply. "This is no time to die!"

The Nephilims flowed out behind him in thousands at his words. The Eldorian legions were halfway into the misty vale now. Their arrows and blast had taken to the realms of the Dead plenty of his army, but not nearly enough to make him care. Ekron pointed his club straight out towards the thundering, approaching armies. He said to his horde,

"Squash them like the little bugs they are."

"YEEAAAHHHH! RAAAAAARGH!!!" His horde went thrashing among the ruins of their camp and fallen brothers. They rushed out to meet the Eldorians, pounding down the veils.

The innumerable horde of blue Giants and the hundreds of thousands of armored Eldorian, Atlantean, and Rocasian integrated fleet clashed in a devastating pillage of battle. The twang of smashing metal could be heard echoing out from the vale into the frosty deep of the Alps. Blood and several limbs flew high into the black skies.

The snow rained like it had never rained before. The cold froze the blood on torn flesh. The clash of armies was a gory sight. Magvath's watchful crimson eyes up in the dreadful heavens looked upon it and smiled.

Each single Gold Cloak bravely faced off a Giant. It didn't matter his size. Rafel had been right; the snowstorm helped. Most of the Nephilims were to tall and the mist of the vale too thick to see below their knees. Not until the Eldorian soldiers were crawling up their backs and knifing out their insides. It didn't help the barbarian horde that they had no armor on.

Eldorian soldiers were yelling everywhere, locked in gruesome duels in every single corner of the valley with their larger adversaries. Bloodthirst and vengeance shimmered richly in their eyes and the silver of their immaculate chainmail were soon blemished in the spilled blood of giants. The mighty were falling, the instruments of war destroyed. The Legions of the Fae kingdom had marched nearly a month to this godless wasteland of ice. They were damned fucking sure going to get their comeuppance.

Fallen bodies soon dotted the vale. Soldiers stomped on pale flesh and fought on. Rivers of blood turned the snows brown and screams of dying people hit the freezing wind from all corners of the battlefield. Steaming insides, and twisting fresh intestines littered the foggy earth of the valley. In the sunless endless night, swords glimmered black gold in violence.

But Eldorian soldiers were tireless.

Their witches made it so, refueling their limbs with fresh energy and augmenting their own mortal weaknesses with their own [Magical] mana cores. It also helped the legions greatly that fighting on their sides were terrors of unmatched strength. These elite forces of their army took the blue Giants ten heads at a time. They would be the Legends Bards would spin songs about.

There was Yemaya, the majestic brown-skinned goddess. Her ripe bronze flesh glowed with her inner [Divine] aura. Blue tendrils of water magic danced and rippled around her form in her battle armor. She leapt off her riding Lizadron, high into the fog that swept the valley, transforming into a fifty feet shocker of beautiful, ethereal, sea goddess.

She towered over the huge Nephilims. They were ten feet. She was five times that. She was known in this giant form by many names. She was CALYPSO to the Pirate marauders. TEFNUT to the isles who worshipped her. And Yemaya the Magnificent to her Atlanteans. In this colossally epic transfiguration of her, she brightened the entire vale with her shimmery blue water magic. Her aura haloed the earth up to the grim sky.

She rode with her Atlanteans in war. Her silvery trident, the Waverider, in her grasp she took fifty of the blue enemies in one fell swoop.

The Queen of the Eldorians herself tore through the horde majestically on her Griffin. More of the dreaded cosmic flames pulsed in her palms. And she hurled balls of the [Celestial Fire] gravelly at the giants, without remorse. They scampered in fright at her flaming hands.

"Yes! Run, you blue motherfuckers!" Giselle shrieked aloud. Her maniacal stride was back in character. It was almost like an alter ego. Her crazy was deadly.

Rafel's sensual women, Corazón and Aya Naamah rode furiously themselves in thier ivory chariot. They furtively sought out the horde's Dark Sorceress with their eyes.

As expected, the [Blood Witch] was surrounded by a small company of Nephilims who stood to defend her as she reinforced the horde, one small zombie reanimation at a time. The sorceress' evil work demanded focus. Aya Naamah, wielding a tapped version of Rafel's [Shadow] ability, something she had gained off her Lord Master during shared intimacy, she cleared the company of seven feet orcs that surrounded the dark sorceress.

She didn't fight them physically. But she grappled with their shadows. Bending the umbras with her ability and twisting and choking the shadows cast until the giants themselves all suffocated. They landed as one stiff heap to the cold earth. The mist swamped their fallen corpses in seconds.

With her defense gone, the sorceress attempted to escape the battlefield.

Shockingly, she was a Manticore.

A rare breed but not uncommon among Blood Witches.

Like an aggrieved fairy, she tried to scale the valley on her bat wings. But Corazón was ready. Aya Naamah took the reins on the chariot as Cora summoned to her fingertips a shiny [Legendary] lasso. Like a crack of lightning, she whipped the ropes into the air and caught the flying sorceress by her scorpion tail.

Cora dragged her back to earth. She crashed into bloody mud on her lion paws.

"That's too much creatures to be mixed in with one human, don't you agree babe?" Cora hopped off the phaeton with a dark smile. It was directed at the heaving manticore.

Aya chuckled. "I agree. What is she now, a meta hybrid? Is this the price you payed for reassembling corpses into grotesque caricatures of life?"

"Fuck you bitches!" The monster sorceress spat up from the ground into Cora's face.

The silver-haired knight, Corazón in her boyish regale, complete with a red plums shooting out her helmet hissed in the blood witch's face. She was quietly circling her dagger in her grasp, the blade whirling around so fast it couldn't be seen.

"No, bitch!" said Cora. "Fuck you!"

And she plunged her dagger right down the top of the female manticore's head. It sank in to the hilt, breaking out the jaw in the process. Cora mercilessly pulled it out ventrally. The blood witch's head split in two halves, right between the eyes. She fell, dead as a doornail into the coldness.

Cora smiled and turned to Aya. The girls gave each other high-fives.

They together lifted up their eyes to the heat of the battle.

In the front lines, where the hottest charge of war endured, stood there Lord Master. His Grace, the Atlantean King, Israfel BlüdThïrste rose in a mountain of blue Giant corpses. All of them slain by his hand. A hundred thousand and more. Cold sweat settled between Rafel's brow.

He pulled off his winter wolf helmet.

The Nephilims were down to a trickle.

He hadn't even used the [Divine] Resurrection Amulet hot against his breast.

One idiot giant rushed for him. He dodged the swipe of the man's spear and swiftly cut him down at the waist. Then he looked out across the battleground of bloodied entrails. His eyes searched, searched for a particular large entity whose death would bring a final end to the raging battle. It was at this same time that the mighty OGBAL, Ekron lifted his eyes from breaking a Gold Cloak's neck too.

He saw Rafel. Their eyes met. And in a silent language, both men drove through the muck of clashing bodies for each other.

WHOOOOO!!!

Rafel whistled for his black Pegasus. On Agamemnon's strong back, as he rode in the wind to Ekron, he called gravely to his infernal system.

"EQUIP WARHAMMER!"

[Ding!] A flatscreen of notification glowed in his face.

[Andorran Warhammer successfully Equipped!]

[Hammer of Agrippa, the DIVINE Relic of Horror.]

[BATTLESTAR: Gold Knight.]

[DAMAGE: +2 500.]

[ROOT DEITY: Sol.]

[ILL: Yellow Lightning of Paralysis.]

Yemaya's closest lover, her merman Gawain, tried to accost the giant, Ekron. It was a futile attempt.

He had his head bashed in right into another warrior's strong helmet. Metal caved and both skulls squeezed like rubber. He was dead before the goddess could do anything about it. She yelled into the black skies at his fall. Her wail in her giant form shocked the battlefield to stiff quiet.

Auras of blue water magic sloshed around her body as she dwarfed back to normal size. She picked up the fallen Atlantean in her arms and softly stroked his long brown hair. The rest of her harem would not be happy. Gawain was the only male and therefore granted some necessary spice to their lovemaking.

Yemaya's eyes were terrifying as she lifted them up to the giant responsible for her lover's demise. It was war. All men must die, but why hers?

She herself would claim Ekron's head but she knew it was Rafel's prize.

"Make the blue cunt pay!" She screeched up to Rafel as he barreled past her on his Pegasus.

OGBAL Ekron, Chieftain of the Nephilim horde was not sorry for offing the bastard cuck of the water goddess. His concern was for the little Ginger riding on the winged horse for him. A Warhammer shimmered onto the hellion's right hand. And Ekron watched it with a quizzical eye. It was rather mortifying.

He could already tell its [Divine] heritage, even from this distance.

Ekron looked around the battlefield in the two seconds before Rafel reached him. Most of his host were gone: burned, shattered, decimated bits on the misty valley. The ones not dead were in chains, kneeling in their great huge forms in caked mud before Eldorian officers. Almost all the fighting had stopped. All eyes were now locked on him.

On him and the Ginger.

The last fight.

Ekron began to wonder how this came to be. He had severely underestimated the moxie of the Fae legions. Led by a Demon Lord, Ekron should have mitigated his stupidity. But rather than go out like a coward, he sucked in a great lungful of metallic air. He tasted the blood on the arctic winds and raised his mighty battle club.

Rafel's Pegasus was driving furiously for him.

Incoming. . .

Just another second!

SWOOOOP!

Ekron swiped and missed. He already knew it was the only shot he'd ever get. His only chance at a next breath.

Rafel had dove right under his club's great Wyrmwood head, bending so far back on his riding stallion the back of his head touched the steed's pelt. He had lain flat on Agamemnon to avoid the hit. The blunt force of Nephilim superhuman strength would've sent him to the other side of the valley, possibly wounding him terribly.

Yet, Rafel dodged.

Giselle on her end, her flaming fingers of [Cosmic Touch] in a giant's steaming head, saw Rafel's evasion in slow motion. She would clap but for the man's brain literally cooking in her palm. Her hand melted right through his skull.

Rafel was now behind Ekron.

And he was rolling his Warhammer.

He turned it in fast circles in the air, so quickly a gaze couldn't catch where the metal ended and where it begun. Streaks of yellow lightning sparked and licked up his right forearm. His whole body was haloed in the eerie light. The relic of horror was charging, readying for release.

Rafel kept spinning it, until a great whirlwind formed out behind the whirling circle.

It was just as Ekron began to turn to face him.

Rafel was on his flying horse. Agamemnon had paused in the air, midnight wings black as a crow's beak and beast eyes as infernal as its rider's. It beat its wings and floated in the cold wind under the black skies. Ekron's blue eyes widened in his large head and Rafel let the [Divine] weapon loose.

The Warhammer flew straight as a released javelin, covering the distance to Ekron in a millisecond. It rushed out so fast a shockwave eroded the vale from the force. It sank into Ekron's chest on the axe side, sending the fifteen foot Giant staggering to a forced kneel in the brown snows.

Blood poured out of the hole in his chest.

His great warclub crashed heavily to the earth.

Ekron lifted up defeated eyes as Rafel guided his Pegasus to the fallen Chieftain. Rafel slid off the saddle and walked to the man. Even on his knees, Ekron met his eyes squarely. Rafel put up his hand and twisted his axehead in the man's chest. Ekron grunted an spat blood. The gothic metal had struck home: his heart.

The yellow lightning from the Warhammer's intrinsic [Paralysis] ability petrified him to a stone.

Ekron was dying. And he couldn't lift a finger to save himself.

He leaked all over Rafel's silvery battle-sandals.

The redhaired Winter Demon grabbed and raised up his huge blue head by the fat and untamed dreadlocks.

"Bet you didn't see this day coming, huh? When you'd get skewered by a puny mortal, eh?"

Ekron coughed out more blood with a weird laugh. The blood was thick, laced with oozing life.

"—but you're not a PUNY anything now, are you, Lord BlüdThïrste? It just hit me now you know. Who the fuck among all the Eldorians would risk a journey to the realms of ice and the land of Giants. I'll spare you the thought—no one.

You are not an Eldorian. You see, you are not even mortal, Apollyon. That's why you possess such keen stratagems to conquer. It's in your blood, demon. While I didn't see this day coming, I am glad it's you who shall claim the life of OGBAL EKRON. A noble death in battle.

Storytellers shall speak tales of this black night when Giant and man fought. It is an honor, Apollyon to die by your hand. But a greater one even. . .to die by mine."

And before Rafel could lift a finger, Ekron fell forward on the Warhammer. The deadly axehead tore into his failing heart, through palpating red muscle and out his great back. The strength left his broad shoulders and the mighty Nephilim Chieftain hunched forward in death.

He impaled himself on Rafel's weapon.

Suicide.

"Not a honor. A torment," said Rafel numbly. "As you are about to find out soon."

He kicked up the great blue body and pulled out the Andorran Hammer. He looked around at the legions of still standing Eldorians, the smiling Atlanteans with hope in their eyes, the brightened stares on the faces of the Rocasians; one unified Continent. Everywhere on the grim battlefield, it was the look of victory.

A slender peek of sunlight, like a stalk protruding from the dark clouds, slipped out and shone proudly as a golden beam of wispy light.

It highlighted the silver armies of Eldoria. In blood and brawn, they had been tried. The Crusade of Rumbrun was fuck all.

Rafel raised his Warhammer gloriously into the air.

"YAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

The Legions cheered.

They had conquered the land of the Giants.


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