Knights Apocalyptica

Chapter 87: Comet

Erec took another step toward the fence—more Knights flew at him. Bedwyr fended off one, yet two more were intent on getting in his way and blocking progress.

These puppets weren’t worth his attention. Erec caught a sword with his axe, then shoved his shoulder into the enemy to knock them back into the second Knight. They stumbled together, yet that wasn’t the point of this attack. He saw their ghosts. Tracked their movements before they even began. The clever ploy to lure him into an attack was belittled as he saw the flash of another Knight closing in from his side.

However, the foolish Stag didn’t predict he’d be able to attack and defend simultaneously.

Erec yanked one of the men from their position, slamming them into the Knight headed his way—letting them take a sword to the side as he bashed the new attacker’s helmet with a quick axe chop.

Easy.

So easy.

The fire burned brighter as he launched a kick at his remaining opponent, sending the bastard careening into more Knights ahead.

His fire swelled; the inferno consumed. A pit of magma twisted in his veins as a wild smile corrupted his face beneath his helmet. Even his eyes burned. There wasn’t time to blink, not as he tracked every single ghost ahead of him. Searching.

Somewhere in that mess was the way past all of this fodder. They might’ve been great Knights in their own right, but now that they were under the control of the Stag, they hardly counted.

It wasted their potential, used them lazily and with disdain like a toddler throwing around a toy it no longer cared for. An utter waste of what might’ve been an otherwise worthwhile fight. Still, he had to admit, their speed and unnatural coordination made it damn near impossible to see a way to slip past.

That meant he was going to have to pick the most straightforward option. Fight his way past.

To his side, Bedwyr finished his scuffle, cleanly knocking out the Knight Protector with the flat of his massive blade.

His brother still insisted on pulling punches, even at this junction.

What did it matter? They’d all die anyway. Erec just wanted to tear off the Stag’s horns before he did.

Erec began to run forward. The puppets ahead swarmed, bracing to reinforce his breakthrough point. Perfect. They’d throw might against might—he’d pull more of that hell out, let it burn him whole, and once he emerged on the other side, he’d take the Stag with him in one glorious pile of refuse.

A second before he reached the defensive line, he saw an alarm—VAL flashed a warning to make him pause, not even bothering with the words. Erec backpedaled, trusting the machine as an extension of himself. Why shouldn’t he? When used how it should be, it was little more than a complicated sword or axe; instead of using a sharp edge to kill, it used numbers and logic.

He saw VAL’s point an instant later.

The ground before him shook, then vanished. A pit appeared out of nowhere and dragged down the plethora of Knights that had moved to stand in his way.

Dame Robin flew at his side, metal rippling off her and making a narrow pathway over the pit; she shoved him forward. “Lead the way!” the woman called, and Erec didn’t need anything else.

He ran over the path, watching the puppets below struggle to clamber out—to the sides, what was left of the actual Knights put up their resistance in a sudden flurry, pressing back against the tide of puppets that desperately fought to repel this assault. Behind him, Erec heard steel clang against the pathway. They hadn’t let him go through this charge alone; whether his burning desire to break through infected them or if they were trying to stop him didn’t matter.

Erec ran over the pit and ripped a hole through the fence.

It was so simple. The metal bent and tore away beneath his steel fingers. Like it wanted him to break through.

The Stag stared at him as he took his first step toward it—the light from the Rifts behind it bled into its shape and colors, twisting and distorting its image as it seared its hate outward.

Erec let his hate for the monster burn back. With everything he could muster, Erec threw his body forward by springing all his strength into his calves.

Ahead of him, five of the monsters popped like balloons.

Black flooded his vision.

— - ☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —

Fire swirled Erec, and the oppressive heat burned his skin, threatening to melt it away and turn him to ash. Each moment that passed was blissful agony as his very soul burned.

This was it then. Judgment.

“About time,” Erec growled through clenched teeth.

That bitch finally came to take him away. Hell should've been torture, yet he only felt relief, though a bit peeved at his performance; he wanted to end it with the Stag. That last hour had been something special, though. It was more full of what life meant than anything that came before—a pure expression of survival and rage.

Life was meant to be lived like a comet soaring across the sky, burning itself away before crashing into the earth.

What?

Erec paused, the picture as clear as if he’d seen it with his own eyes, yet he knew of no such thing. He’d only seen the night above briefly during his time on the earth. So how could he even imagine such a gorgeous sight?

Because it wasn’t his memory.

Erec gripped his head as the flames began to die around him—their soothing pain smoldering and withdrawing as a wind swept through and tore them away, and the radiant heat of judgment faded.

And left a cold nothing in its wake.

In it, the Stag finally appeared for what it was. Not a bold white-coated monster of beauty, but a massive horrible cold intellect—ahead of him, Erec saw the psionic mind of the beast. Its true form was a swirling muddy lake of crimson with a bottomless depth. Deep within came an occasional pulse of evil red.

Drowned beneath the still lake surface were tens of thousands of monsters, their eyes closed, drifting along with a few humans. Some of them struggled, suddenly erupting into a spasm of movement as they got close to the surface of the tranquil lake. When they acted up, a thousand tendrils appeared below to drag them away from freedom. They'd drown again and again.

It’d extinguished Erec’s flames, and as he watched with a still horror, a tendril rose slowly out of the water, lazily heading toward him.

Once it caught him, it’d pull him in and drown him beneath the surface like the rest.

Where the Goddess burned, the Stag drowned.

Erec tried to run, get his legs moving and did his best to scream for help. But his tongue failed to work. His legs felt like jelly. And that tendril of dark crimson pulsed as if laughing at his feeble attempts.

He’d be the Stag’s forevermore.

No.

Erec’s fingers twitched. Heat burned through him; the tendril paused and hung inches in front of his eyes.

Burn.

Silver flames sprang from his fingertips. Fire spouted around the lake, and the tendril rushed forward to force its way into his mouth and drown him where he stood.

It touched his lips and evaporated; his skin erupted in a hostile silver fire. His hand clenched, Erec took a step toward the lake, eyes wild. He saw the hell inside of himself. This wasn’t anything compared to that; this stilted attempt at control and horrifying tranquility. It was a pale excuse for an afterlife.

Hell burned, tormented, and scorched. Within its depths was chaos incarnate. Within it was war.

The whole lake of blood shrieked, and Erec’s mind was yanked away as he reached its bank.

— -☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —

Erec stumbled forward; a second or two passed, yet it felt like an hour. The Stag stared at him, raising on its hind legs with concern as Erec caught himself.

With a laugh, Erec took another step toward it. There wasn’t hate radiating from his prey. No, it was pure fear. The pathetic thing was afraid. He’d give it something to fear.

He’d hunt it down, rip it’s antler off, and stab the monstrosity through the throat with it—

A dozen monsters popped with an explosion of electricity.

The world vanished away.

— -☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —

Erec found himself knee-deep in the red lake, hands rising from its crimson surface, trying to grab him before he could react and pull him down. It thought to act in surprise and take him before he could respond.

A ripple of silver flame burst out from him in a wave as that hate burned him away. There wasn’t anything for this pathetic eldritch monster to grasp onto. No mind for it to take and drown. No, everything he was burned with an intensity that it couldn’t stand.

Erec saw Her in the inferno. Saw Her hate and contempt. It dwarfed anything he had felt before; that pure and unadulterated desire to conquer. The Goddess was destruction.

And She’d burned her way through his very soul.

The psychic plane burned away as the lake of blood began to evaporate from his fire.

— -☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —

Erec caught himself from another stumble. A few feet closer to his prey. The White Stag was swaying in its spot, standing high and looking for an escape route. Even if it’d done a fine job using humans as living shields, it’d trapped itself. No matter where it ran, eventually, it’d run into humans. Into more Knights.

But, the assumption it could run away from Erec was incorrect.

It was going to die here and now.

Erec sprinted towards it, a hand outstretched towards the monstrosity. His fingers burned with a coat of horrible silver flame.

A hundred monsters exploded in a horrible bloody pop around him as he sped by.

Erec’s mind was yanked away for but a moment; before returning to reality a second later. More monsters exploded. Each time it pulled his mind away, the time it took to burn through its grasp on him dropped as he sped along.

He was going to grab the Stag and drag it into his hell.

The Stag began to run, leaping past the fence, but Erec chased a streaking comet of silver flames. His hand stretched toward the White Stag’s back, an indicator that promised death.

As the battle faded from around them, the world condensed to a primal scene, one so common to humankind's history.

Hunter versus prey.