Chapter 278 (2/2)

“Heh, this strong? No wonder you’ve been so annoying for so long. But if you are this desperate to protect him…. It’s true, isn’t it?”

Lucretia said nothing, furiously reaching for more Aether. But to her surprise, she found that her body simply couldn’t absorb anymore… without giving something back. Meaning, she thought, her eyes narrowing. She didn’t have time to find a way around this, not without giving the Ghosthound strength through her meaning, so she did something desperate, and instead reached further into him, grasping for anything.

Gerroark continued to speak. “But that still means you both need to die. For the purity of our line, you understand. And that disciple of his too… and probably that man outside… I believe he defeated one of my disciples you have possessed, but it’s the principle, you know? Ha, look at me, so chatty. But I never believed I would be so lucky to slay the Eternal Witch today…”

The man’s eyes narrowed to gleeful slits, “Now die for me.”

This time Gerroark didn’t play around with other images, and the world around them transformed into a desert, heat crashing against her. Shal rolled over in his trance, frowning.

Damnit! Lucretia howled inwardly.

But then she found it, inside of the Ghosthound. It was smooth like a ball, but it glowed with power, sitting deep in the Ghosthound’s soul realm. Lucretia’s eyes widened. SoulSkill. And not just something basic, like controlling a Village, but… something so potent that she couldn’t wrap her head around it.

As the heat grew more intense, Lucretia reverted to banging against the strange barrier around the skill, desperate. If she could somehow convert it…

Then, to her surprise, it opened. Before she could reach into it, however, something came out.

*****

Xierk Taf was the greatest warrior the world had ever seen. In the bitter war against the Spriggits, he had always been at the forefront, seizing control of the Scepter of Dominance for his own use. Very soon he had become the Emperor of the Earth Golems, beating the Spriggit machinations back to their mountains. The war stalled, and he turned his attention abroad.

A dispute over the Progenitor, based on the Weave, started a cultural revolution, as more and more doubted the existence of a Progenitor at all. In his greed, Xierk used this, fueling a war with the Swamplings, confident that the Hunters would maintain their neutrality, as always. It was so, and he waged a bloody war to seize the Weave, and take the Hammer of the Dawn.

Xierk Taf was the greatest warrior this world had ever seen.

But the Swamplings surprised him. He was able to seize the hammer, but they burned the Weave, rather than allowing him to have access to it. Xierk wondered what answers were there, but he had other concerns.

His greatest friend and general died in that final fight, holding the hammer wielder at bay for just the moment Xierk needed. In the aftermath, he looked around and saw his people, grim, impossibly strong, tragically few, and Xierk felt regret. He looked at the two relics in his hands, wondering why the Progenitor had decided to create them.

He wondered if the life of his best friend was worth all this.

He wondered if he really believed in the Progenitor any longer.

Desperate, he asked for the Hunters for help… and they assented. And so, before all of the gathered races, Xierk demanded peace… and offered his life. He laid himself upon the funeral pyre, holding the two weapons, an example, he had hoped, for why chasing power was fruitless.

An appeasement, he hoped to the other races, to show there was no need for revenge against the remaining Earth Golems. For although Xierk Taf was the greatest warrior the world had ever known, he could not protect his people. It was his great shame.

Instead of dying in the fire, Xierk blinked, and found himself standing in a room, facing off against an elderly creature producing a crushing aura of heat. A woman was on her knees behind him, and there was another one of these strange, soft creatures on the bed behind him. They reminded him of Spriggits, but almost stretched upwards, with longer arms and torsos and legs.

“You are… Xierk?” The voice was questioning, but it also was soft, eternal, and filled Xierk with a strange familiarity.

Xierk, to his surprise, shed a tear, a mixture of sulfur and water. “And you… are the Progenitor.”

Xierk’s wasn’t a question.