One Moo'r Plow - Book 2: Chapter 47: The Slaughter of Greysong Keep III.

The champion came, cloaked in golden brilliance. Once more his light shone forth, a blinding flash that forced me to flinch away or go blind. Now came the truest test of them all. We faced a hale and healthy Godtouched, one of tremendous power. Yet the field of battle was not evenly matched. Exhaustion gripped me through the adrenaline that pumped through my veins. Liquid heat flowed within to fight against the cold numbness and to warm my worn-out muscles. Harvest’s Bounty had kept me from succumbing to the tide of foes thrown at me, but now there remained no fodder for me to reap.

Alone, I might certainly die.

But there was a darkness at my side, and she did not relent.

Stone cracked beneath her as Valencia exerted pressure around herself. Gravity intensified, dust being dragged down through the air. The hewn rock that made up the fortress’s courtyard broke beneath her every step, with no dust or debris able to fly upwards.

The manipulation of physics and gravity here would have fascinated me, any other time. Yet now was the time only to survive.

Mace in either hand, I bore the brunt of the assault. A swing came crashing down and I was forced back, unable to stop the two-handed hammerblow with both hands. Dull and square as it was, the weapon’s head furrowed through the rock and continued its arc once more.

The champion’s presence burned at my hide, the heat and light radiating from him like a miniature sun. On the back foot, I tensed and lept back as he spun around with the hammer for another blow. The momentum would carry him around right into Valencia.

And I had faith that the dreadknight would keep him in place for just a moment.

Mace in either hand raised above my head, I squared myself and called forth a Skill I had not yet used. Sundering Wrathblade channeled into both weapons and crashed onto the stone below.

The area before me exploded. Stone and corpses were heaved skyward by the ground’s vehement upheaval. Shockwaves raced in a cone before me, two explosions clashing with each other as my senses rang. The earth rippled and heaved, debris thrown everywhere as the ground quaked.

No matter how mighty the warrior, they needed the earth underfoot to fight. Now, I denied him that. Valencia too was caught in the blast, yet remained unscathed. Where she stood, the earth remained unbroken, suppressed and forced down by her will.

Perhaps he might have been able to match her in an even battle. Been able to overwhelm her with his blazing splendor. I intended to make sure that was never the case.

Rage beat through my veins now. Wrath drowned out the tiredness, swallowed whole my weakness and put fire into my mortal veins. Again and again I struck the earth, cracking it open as I beat the ground in an uneven rhythm. Everything heaved and shook around me, the walls cracking and stone falling from on high. Corpses were tossed about as I pummeled the ground over and over, an earthquake made by my own hands.

Every blow let loose my anger, set free my wrath and made more powerful my vengeance. Even Valencia swayed slightly from how the earth itself tore open before me. The dreadknight lashed out her derision upon the champion as the minotaur struggled to keep steady, rocked off-balance by impacts and left without footing.

I was not the only one with such might.

With a roar drowned out by the earth’s shattering, the champion stretched his arms to either side and let loose a supernova of light and heat. A second sun was once more birthed into this world, and it scorched away all around him. It burst outward, Valencia hurled backwards by the brunt of its force.

I braced for impact, only for it to roll past me, its surface only lightly scorching my body.

And then I realized I was within it.

A brilliant expanse stretched around me now, heat to all sides.

Only I and the champion were within this golden field. He came at me now, an avatar of the blazing sun. All light and fury, every shred of his form aglow. I cast aside the nearly-broken maces and pulled a greatsword from beneath a shattered corpse.

If I died, it would be with a weapon I was comfortable with.

A dozen phantom limbs glowed around the champion, each holding another massive warhammer in light-soaked grips. They fell upon me now, and I could do little to withstand the assault. Instead, I retreated. Primal Wroth shifted my form into one longer and leaner, gave me the speed I needed to make distance between myself and the avatar of the wakening sun.

Greatsword still in hand, I bounded backward, senses sharpened and trying to find an opening. Already pulverized, the ground shifted beneath my every step, threatening to slip beneath my hooves. Trapped within the golden field, I could not escape as the champion slowly bore down upon me.

Golden arms orbited his form, each ready to strike me down.

With nowhere to go, I went forward to death. Only to slip and fall sideways as the treacherous terrain finally betrayed me.

Hammers crashed down, each falling upon my form to crush me. All falling like a steel rain in this moment to capitalize on my fatal slip.

They would have, had that been what I had done. With unnatural agility, I righted myself and lept forward, underneath the barrage.

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In that moment, all else was made to not matter. The steel that tempered the weapon I held was made meaningless. The armor that cloaked my foe was irrelevant. The Skills that shielded him from harm were rendered null. His own hammer raised to block was made void.

Only one thing existed that mattered now.

They Are Felled rendered a single strike true, cut away all else that might stop or deviate the blow. And my greatsword flashed through that arc, passed through armor, flesh and bone as if there was no resistance. It severed magic from the blood itself, laid open the flesh and ended life.

The champion staggered back, hammer shorn in twain, armor cleanly rent open and blood spewing everywhere. The golden arms around him vanished, their phantom weapons dispelled. He was cut through, entire top half nearly severed loose.

To any other, a fatal blow.

I barely had time to cross my arms and brace back into my sturdier form before the explosion engulfed me.

Now I was the one hurled through the air, scorched light filling my eyes, searing my lungs and setting the fur alight on my hide. Pain and heat blazed everywhere as I was slammed into the golden barrier, still trapped within the second sun.

The fleshen form was shed now as the avatar strode forward, pure heat and light constrained into a singular body. The minotaur was gone, replaced by this unbound avatar of light and glory and splendor.

An axe I snatched off the ground and hurled end over end at the figure. I watched as the wood was immolated and steel melted before it even struck upon the figure’s form. My gaze hurt to look upon the radiant being, to see its brilliance. A flail I ripped from a dead man’s grasp and hurled it, only for the same to happen.

This could very well be the end, I thought.

No tricks left. No skills that could win the day. It Will Not Die might prolong the fight, but what could I do against a walking sun? My weapons melted before they could even near its body. My armor would slag from my body before I got close.

It seemed hopeless.

I refused to succumb to those thoughts. Banished their poison from my mind and righted myself. Held my proverbial finger on the skill that would let me defy death itself but decided not to use it just yet.

The avatar form the champion had assumed must have a price. One that could not be maintained for long. I only needed to outlast it, for him to return to the fleshen minotaur form to have a better chance.

And I would do so.

But not alone.

Words could not describe the relief I felt as something tore through the golden shell that trapped us here. A darkness clawed through the surface and Valencia burst through, her dread presence flooding me with relief. The void trailed in her wake as the dreadknight shot forward and seized the avatar with both hands.

Darkness sang through the sun, as the two struggled. Every blow Valencia landed splashed liquid flame around her. I watched as her armor began to melt, sheer heat slagging off what I had known to be untouchable.

They rocked back and forth, exchanging blows. A hammer of white-hot lava splashed over Valencia’s defenses, rocked her back as I saw the armor disappear, immolated on the spot.

Desperation told me to go help. Be the crucial point that turned the tide. Yet I could not. I would burn up before I got close enough to land a blow.

A hammer looted from a corpse raised above my head, I stood and channeled Sundering Wrathblade. Eyes pealed open, I watched for any moment to unleash as the power within grew, until it grew painful to contain. My entire form vibrated with fury that demanded release. I could feel every stroke of blood in every part of my body. The skin upon my flesh was pulled so taut that pain roiled with every breath. Unable to move, I waited for the one, singular moment when the champion would be in the blow’s path.

Chains of darkness ensnared the avatar, the void eating away at its form. Valencia now caught blows with her bare hands, her gauntlets gone. A ravenous vortex swirled around her, gravity itself multiplied. Even suppressed and lashed to her, the avatar channeled the power of the sun and attempted to overwhelm her.

Finally, I could hold no longer.

The hammer shattered in my hands as it struck the earth. The ground beneath it broke, and everything was heaved skyward. Walls crumpled and the canyon itself began to quake as an earthquake ripped apart the ground. The earth itself yawned open, vast crevices torn in all directions as my blow made the soil to shatter.

A rift tore forward, all the force I could muster blasting right into the avatar as Valencia held it in place. The dreadknight took only some of the massive shockwave, her power literally shrinking the impact. And still she staggered.

The champion crumpled beneath the titanic strike. Gone was his form of light and glory. I had knocked the very sun out of him.

Spent and without a spark left, he collapsed forward onto his knees.

I was not much better off. Yet I was upright, and he was not. Hammer in hand, I approached the figure, ruin all around me.

Little was left of Greysong Keep, I dully noted. But the minotaur warherd lay dead around me, and now I would send their leader to join them. There was no thought of mercy on my mind. Only that this beast must die.

A hand upon my arm stopped me as I stood with hammer raised high.

Valencia.

She looked exhausted. Ragged and worn and about to fall over.

“Garek.” She spoke. “I was promised this.”

I blinked, and realized she spoke true.

“Too long, too hard have I toiled for this.” There was now a hint of sadness in her voice. And another tone I had never heard from her. An underlying one of hope. “Let me claim what I rightfully deserve.”

I wanted to end this man. Be the one that sent him back to whatever pit he spawned from. We might have been from the same world, but there was naught but contempt for this monster in my heart.

Yet I had made a promise. And so I lowered my hammer and stepped aside.

Let the Gods Above finally see that Valencia was worthy.

The final blow fell and the champion collapsed back, headless. I waited a moment as the dreadknight stood, hands covered in the nameless conqueror’s blood. One moment dragged by, then another. Silence filled the ruined courtyard.

Until she threw back her head and screamed in the loudest echo of hate I had ever witnessed.