For the Hate of God

The battle for Damnarynth

Malleteagan’s POV

We are slowly but surely advancing down through ill-dimmed, sewer-like channels that separate Oribus from Damnarynth, the next circle of Wengarthria. Now I understand why they call it the way they do. It is a damn labyrinth, although I was told that it got its name from all the damned souls that are built within it. This level of Wengarthria seems like an underworld maze. It is laid out so complexly that it almost reminds of a large underworld ant heap. Ghouls of lost souls loitering around, screeching and beginning for mercy. Arachnoid warriors are protruding and attacking us left, right and centre as we advance through stinky swamp sewage of Damnarynth that reaches my waist, soaking our clothes with gooey, yucky and sticky substance. Gah, this is disgusting—the pungent, retch-inducing stench of the swampy channels cluttered with the foul odour of damned souls. The stench does more damage to us than arachnoids.

The arachnoids are just pesky spider-like creatures fuelled by electricity and venom-ridden powers. But the trick with them is that they use their size to their advantage and simultaneously attack the victim. Their battle style indicates that they probably function as a pack. A similar philosophy and mindset is evident in their combat style, too. They are primarily of the size of Nexelex. And yes, we are making sure to poke as many size-related puns as possible and to rile pouting Nexelex and dwarves as we swiftly destroy arachnoids with chthonic blades while breaking through Damnarynth. Our chthonic weaponry becomes more powerful and lethal with each foe it syphons in. When ranked demons are killed with it, runes of their power etch in the blades or gems carved in their hilts, depending on the rank and nature of powers of the demon assimilated.

So, each of us now has unique weaponry as we advance through Wengarthria. I must admit that although I was very sceptic about Chthonic weapons, it turned out that these are the masterpieces of craftsmanship and magic made by excellent joint work between Thersar and Nexelex. Arachnoids are made by Hades, a chthonic deity, so cutting through them with chthonic weapons had proven not to be a biggie.

But the stench, on the other hand, is vomit-inducing and hard to cope with. The swampy water is up to my hips. In Nexelex’s and dwarves’ case, they have to swim. I’d like to mock and tease the little guy, but I decided against it. After all, they saved our arses in Oribus. And I think it’s already gross and challenging enough for them to swim through a puss-filled swamp without us taking a mick. As we were slashing through hordes of stinky arachnoids, screeching pandemonium broke through the swamping waters of Damnarynth. I checked my surroundings, and the horde of arachnoids was reinforced by a swarm of Kaida’s little pesky flaming dragons merged with walls of Damnarynth.

Swampy serpents started to detach from walls, meander and traipse with their scaly bodies through the morass. Creatures that surrounded us were snarling, hissing and baring their gnashers at us. Then they would leap up in vaults and sallied on us. We lost several warriors but kept on fighting and moving forward. It was frantic melee throughout the Damnarynth as the battle progressed—a mixture of snarling of our soldiers hissing and screeching of ghouls, serpents, Kaidas and arachnoids.

Our foe’s limbs were splashing, splaying and flying across the sewers in explosive merge of their guts and gusts of their magic, which was syphoned in our blades as we cut our way through. We were getting close to the grand open space clearing that hid the passage of borders between Damnarynth and Morsburg, the next circle of Wengarthria. Suddenly, out of nowhere, chainsaw-like snarling radiated through the swamp. Damnon, the enraged master of Damnarynth, appeared before us. Uh oh, the dude is massive.

Damnon looked like a gigantic cyclops with three heads. I looked like an ant in comparison with him, and I am a f*****g Lycan king. I am way bigger than a really tall human. Damnon’s head was resembling a bizarre combination of dragon-like ears with the exact shape of Kaida, his teeth and scales on his face were serpent like, and three eyes of an arachnoid placed on his mutant-like face were radiating neon-crimson light. As he swiped away with his arms, he was emitting flame. The tendrils of his flames would wrap around soldiers like a net that set and engulfed those captured within it in igniting fire. His Goliath-like body strutted around narrow channels of Damnarynth and decimated our warriors.

I looked at Kandreah and Thersar, and in silent agreement, we darted up in unison. I was on Damnon’s torso, clutching for the neck of the head in the centre; Kandreah clung for the head on his left and Thersar for the one on his right. He swiped his hand, trying to get us off and was wreaking havoc in Damnarynth, spraying his flaming nets laced with electricity and slaughtering our warriors with his lethal nets in the process. We looked at each other, and in a split second, each of us pulled the chthonic blades, and we stabbed the eyes of the head each of us clung to. We exchanged another glance and nodded before we cut the neck of the beast in a marvellous symphony and with a joint, victorious snarl. Thersar and Kandreah are excellent fighters. I’ll give them that.

As Damnon fell into the mud of Damnarynth's tunnels with a loud thud, we fell on top of him while his minions screeched in surreal horror and pain. His powers syphoned and rippled through our blades, etching a rune that read “flamma” on it. As the essence of Damnon rippled through our blades, a little gem that sparkled with an electric zap appeared on the hilt of mine, Kandreah and Thersar blades. As his essence drew into our blades, remnants of his guts and giant corpse dispersed and splashed on Damnarynth sewage, and we fell straight into the shitty mud of the channel. I felt like a f*****g ninja turtle now. Three of us were covered with the substance that made us look like newborns covered with that gooey vernix-like substance. The difference is, unlike newborns, we are covered with the guts of Damnon and the mud of Damnarynth. You could only see our eyes. We looked like three ridiculous mud monsters.

This wasn’t missed by Nexelex and his cackling gang, who mocked us, although they were covered by the crappy mud of Damnarynth too, but not as much as us. Although we got Master of Damnarynth defeated, warriors were still getting rid of his little pests, those who hadn’t surrendered. And gosh, although they are weakened without their master they are still pesky, and it seems that they do not stop to swarm in bouts at us. After several days of slaughtering and breaking down through the melee of Damnon’s remaining minions, Damnarynth fell, too. The next target to seek and destroy is Morsburg. Even if they surrender now and hand over Aralyn, we will not stop until Wengarthria falls.

Marcellus POV

-The day of the fall of Oribus-

My head is about to burst; a splitting headache is demolishing me.

And then I felt the soft and soothing touch on my temples, someone’s fingertips gently grazing over my pentagrams, which pulsated with ominous and vile energy that usually devours me inside out. But now my menace is threatening to spill out in all its death-bringing darkness, chaos and wickedness.

And you know what, this time round I will just bow to my demon and release him to devour whoever the motherfucker who dared to touch me is. I am just tired of taming who I am. Anyway, who’s else audacious enough to touch me apart from that obtuse floozy Noosha or one of her stupid brown-nosed stooges? There is no damage in crushing and wiping the floor with any of them.

Automatically triggered, my right-hand swipes towards the Intruder while I jerk my left hand swiftly and clamp violently, the intrusive hand stroking my temples. I opened my eyes with the blazing fire lighting out of me, ready to engulf and devour the intruder and spit out its ashes. But to my wonder, I saw the last person I thought I’d see, no, let me correct myself, last Lycan I thought I’d see- Aralyn. Because I think it’s her Lycan that reined over at the moment, I could tell by her eyes. Meena, was that her name? My blaze instantly and instinctively retracted as I glanced at the beautiful she-wolf before me. Her cheeks were soaked with tears. I brushed them off gently with my thumbs, speechless, marvelling at the woman…er…witch…goddess…she-wolf….gosh…I have no idea what she is. But one thing is certain: she is a creature of unparalleled and ethereal beauty.

I looked at my surroundings, and I figured out that I was in the same place where I was a few weeks ago, in Nerzelis. I am in the same spot where I fought against Aralyn. We are under the same spelling cloak she whipped up a few weeks ago. Well, not the same, as this one is not damaged by my magic. The burnt ground still shows that this is the place where we fought just a few weeks ago. And yet, Meena is crying and caressing me, here at the same spot where I tortured her human counterpart. This seems so surreal that I cannot drift away from impression that this might be another Noosha’s poor attempt to set up the hell-loop with help of Rowena. Or Is this real? A moment ago, I was ready to bury stupid Conrad in my flames, and now I stand in front of the creature that awoke so many mixed emotions in me. Then, I felt sharp pain suffocating me. I knew what it was. The Damnarynth was under attack. The council of elders in Wengrathria bound me and father with the essence of Wengrathria, to ensure that we will defend it with our life. My body and soul are entwined with Wengarthria.

So, if I don’t defend my kingdom, every blow and loss reflects on my body. I have to actively fight and defend Wengarthria for pain to stop. And I was in f*****g middle of nowhere near Wengarthria now. Who dared to attack us?

As the pull to defend my kingdom does not make excuses or make exceptions, I was embraced by darkness of my mind again, just when I thought that I will get a chance to catch my breath.