Echoes of the Abyssal Blade: Path to Free Will-Chapter 54: Dreadful Monarch

Once a hubbub, the city’s central plaza was now unrecognizable, drowned in a dark ooze. The buildings cracked and sank, and the city bells fell silent, one by one, torn from their towers, the sound that replaced them was wails of the dying, who were clinging to their life, trying to find an escape.

Elias, through sheer will, tried to crawl towards Jonan, his fingers were trembling as they reached out. "Jonan... we... we have to..."

He didn’t finish the sentence. He coughed, blood was spurting from his lips, and he collapsed, as his body was riddled with debris.

Jonan was horrified at the sudden turn of events, they were resting just for a bit, and when they came out, noticing the commotion in the streets, never in their dreams did they ever think of being faced with such a massive entity, for which indirectly they were responsible.

Looking at the collapsed Elias, whom he couldn’t even help, even if he wanted to, with great luck he was able to cling to the broken pillar, due to which he did not drown further, but Elias was not as lucky, the dark tide affected him too much, and without him realizing, he was pierced by debris present in the dark tide.

Looking at Elias’s body, drowning in the dark tide, made Jonan feel hopeless, because throughout their journey, Elias was always jovial, no matter how tense the situation tended to be, but looking at him dying in front of him made Jonan almost teary-eyed.

Picking himself up with determination, he turned his head, searching for Edric and Marla, while he couldn’t help Elias, he should at least try his best to find Edric and Marla, they must not have fallen to the same fate as Elias.

Due to the dark tide, nothing much was visible, Jonan tried keeping his eyes open, but it was complete darkness; he couldn’t fathom just how vast and powerful this Monarch was, he had also read about the Monarchs, the epitome of the beast races, but witnessing it first hand is an another experience in itself.

Finally, after some time, he spotted them through the haze, Marla was still clinging to Edric like a lifeline, but both were motionless now. Jonan wanted to call out, to scream their names, but the tide forced its way into his throat, his eyes rolled back, and darkness claiming the edges of his vision.

Above, Lyneex finally descended.

Her enormous form coiled through the broken streets, not as an invader but as a passerby. The remnants of the barrier flickered weakly around her, but there was nothing left to protect. Her tendrils reached through the city like vines of black silk, gently cradling ruins, corpses.

She let out a low, rumbling cry, and from her vast, shadowy form, something rained down. It was the same black ichor pouring all over the city but with lesser volume, upon closer look, wherever that lesser black ichor was pouring was instantly corroded and melting, be it hardened rocks or metals.

The lesser black ichor was nothing as much as the dark tide, but it was far deadly, just one drop of it would corrode through skins, metals, and stones alike, melting them to liquid.

The colossal black serpentine shadow opened its maw, which looked like she was ready to engulf the whole city in her mouth, but all that came out was a cry, it was so sharp that it affected everything for miles.

The silence that followed Lyneex’s cry was a silence too full to be real, it rang louder than any of the bells that once called the faithful and the fearful alike to prayer, the plaza, or what little remained of it, had ceased to resemble anything born of civilization. Its formerly vibrant center had turned to a pit of decay. Even the sky wept, colored in reds and blacks, as if the heavens were broken as well.

Jonan grasped the shattered pillar, the cold seeping into his arms and back, not from the wind, but from hopelessness. He was drenched in a mixture of sweat, blood, and the sickly mist rising from the dark tide below. His breathing was shallow, raspy. He had seen the dying breath of Elias, and now he stared, unblinking, into the murk where Edric and Marla lay motionless.

They were within view, just a stone’s throw away.

Edric’s arm was stretched outward, limp. His face was turned toward Marla, who clung to him with a fierce grip even in unconsciousness, or death. Her hair was plastered to her face, her eyes closed. There was no visible blood, but the dark tide left no wounds that bled in the ways he was used to. It devoured from within and without, leaving behind only the dissolving shapes of those who could not flee.

Jonan wanted to move.

He needed to.

"Marla... Edric..." he whispered, but his throat was hoarse. His voice drowned before the city did.

He tried to push himself forward. His fingers trembled on the jagged edge of the stone. His legs, no, everything felt like they’d turned to lead, a sharp pain flared in his side where something had nicked him earlier, a shard of the bell tower, perhaps, or a loose, cursed tile, but the pain was nothing compared to what was festering in his mind.

He was useless.

They were right there.

If he had more strength, more power, if he were like Rhydian... Maybe then, just maybe—

A wet, hissing noise stole his attention.

He turned his head slowly.

And saw it.

The lesser black ichor.

It trickled like rain through the jagged remains of the rooftops above. Thin, almost beautiful in the way it glistened, it fell in elegant drops. And wherever it touched, it changed the world.

Stone fizzled. Wood screamed. Metal ran like water.

And flesh?

There was no flesh left to test anymore.

A few of the civilians who’d taken shelter in nearby buildings had fled into the streets, believing the worst had passed, Jonan saw one, a woman with a child in her arms. They dashed through the rubble, sprinting toward what might have once been a gate.

One drop of the lesser black ichor fell on her shoulder.

She didn’t even scream.

Her entire right side crumbled into sludge, flesh collapsing into a frothy mix of blood and bubbling ichor. She fell forward, the child tumbling from her grasp into the dark tide. The scream that followed came not from the mother, but from the child, who vanished into the black with barely a splash.

Jonan closed his eyes.

Why am I still here?

Why am I still alive?

He looked at his own hands, shaking, bloodied, powerless.

The pillar beneath him moaned, its edges hissing as the lesser black ichor slowly crawled up its sides. Every second, it climbed closer. Inch by inch. Death wasn’t even rushing anymore, it was merely approaching with inevitability, like a tide returning to claim its shore.

He shifted again, turning his head back toward Edric and Marla.

They were still unreachable to him.

A sob escaped him, he wasn’t loud, he wasn’t even angry, like a child who had finally stopped believing that help was coming.

He watched the black ichor creep toward their bodies.

It slithered over the stone like ink through cracked parchment, claiming every surface. A tendril reached Edric first, kissing his boots. His form began to shimmer, fade, and Marla, her back hunched over him, vanished next.

"No..." Jonan breathed.

But they were already gone.

There wasn’t even time for goodbyes.

And then the ichor was beneath him.

The pillar cracked again, great splits running through its foundation as the ichor ate at it from below. Jonan didn’t even try to move; his arms ached, his chest was hollow, and there was nothing left.

He thought of Elias’s last words, unfinished and lost.

He thought of Marla’s antics, of Edric’s stoic expression, while he wasn’t close with them, he would never wish for their death, and that too in such a gruesome manner.

And now, all of it, all of them, were gone.

The ichor climbed higher, licking his boots, eating through the sole of his shoe.

He didn’t resist.

Let it take me.

Let this be the end, he thought.

A final crack echoed out, the stone gave way beneath him, and he was falling down into the darkness.

This is it, is this the end.

But in that instant, before the ichor could claim him completely, something grasped him.

Arms wrapped around his waist.

A rush of wind tore at his hair.

The world became a blur.

He was no longer falling.

He was flying.

Jonan gasped, hardly managing to comprehend what had occurred.

They sped through the shattered streets like a comet, flying over crumbling towers, rusted buildings, and twisted corpses, the wind screamed in his ears, his vision was rattled, and his limbs hung.

But the grip holding him never faltered.

He twisted his head weakly, his vision swimming, and saw him.

It was Rhydian.