Clang…
Clang…
As the blood javelins lost their form—having completely pierced the golem from one side to another—the left side of the golem's round, stubby head began to crumble. A wave of pain radiated through Quies' mind.
'Maybe… agh! I shouldn't have done this in the first place! Why did I… even fight this thing anyway?' He said through breaths of exhaustion.
To be fair, he wasn't the type of person to run from confrontations. The last time he tried to, his body was torn to shreds by needles of coral…
And unlike that encounter, he was sure that he had—at the very least—a slim chance of destroying this golem.
Yet, his gut urged him to run.
Clang…
He didn't know why, really, but his intuition almost never lied. His steps forward hesitated as he glanced back and forth between the golem and the open expanse of forest behind him.
He was seriously considering the option of fleeing…
But he was so close. The golem was so close to crumbling into a pile of fragments. Even if he did run, he wasn't sure he would be agile enough to dodge the multiple beams it would be sending his way.
He also guessed that the Duke's manor was near.
His reasoning was this: if the golem isn't a living being and is, supposedly, similar to the raven he had destroyed earlier, it probably meant someone had used the song—or whatever mystical ability Quies had yet to learn—to bring this construct of stone to life. Bringing it to life to protect something—to act as a guard.
'Just a guess…'
It seemed that all arrows were pointing towards him destroying the construct in order to reach the Duke's manor.
'Ah gosh, I hate myself.'
His conviction, once wavering, was now one—the possibilities of the future collapsing into a single, tangible aspiration.
He would strike this golem down and shatter its stone into pieces.
His gauntlet of crimson crept towards the tip of his fingers—forming itself into a long, spear-tipped shape. Another javelin.
But this time, he would launch the javelin with his own strength—his own will and physical prowess.
'Please die, please die, please die…'
He repeated the mantra over and over in his mind as he raised his throwing arm.
One furious eye of the golem stared the young lean man down. Its white-hot gaze burned stronger than ever now that its other eye had crumbled off of its face.
Cursed blood clung to its crevices and spread across its flat expanses of stone—paper thin, yet restricting. The blood from Quies' earlier javelins had almost enveloped its entire torso now. Its white-burning core, once as bright as its eyes, was now covered by the fetid liquid.
It tilted its torso upwards, ever so slightly looking at the fading orange tints of dusk. The azure of day ebbed away as the skies of liquid night spilled across the firmament of heaven.
Fyooom!
The javelin flew through the thin mountain air at a breakneck speed. Its pointed tip and atom-thin edges whistled through the wind.
Kaboom!
A shockwave erupted from the golem's punctured torso. The javelin of blood flew through the once imperturbable rock—launching fragments of all sizes in the air. The golem staggered, marching backwards for the first time in its existence.
The javelin lost its form as it exited out the other side and joined the conglomerate pool of cursed crimson. The golem's surface was now slick with blood, lusterless to the glint of the fading sun.
Quies took a step back, regaining his posture and extended an arm forward—palm facing out.
He could feel it. That familiar sense of longing—the inseverable connection of master and servant.
The coating of crimson grew rigid as Quies' hand tensed. The golem—with its joints restricted by the slick crimson coat—struggled to articulate its joints. Its marches grew slower—its arms fell still and stiff.
His mind ached with an indescribable pain. 'Was this the true feeling of ether exhaustion?' he thought to himself as tension steeled the invisible string of will from his palm to crimson.
His hand closed into a fist as a thousand needles pierced the conscience of his mind.
Cr-rack!
Fist closed, the stiff crimson carapace embracing the golem collapsed into one infinitesimal point. Not even the sculpted stone armor of the golem was able to withstand the sheer pressure of the blood. Its eyes of white-hot will scorched hotter than they had ever burned before.
Despite its stone-cold gaze, Quies did not shudder.
He did not flinch.
He did not look away.
Because he, he himself, would be the one who would destroy this construct of the Duke.
"Die!"
C-rac-rack!
It buckled under the weight of Quies' crimson will, fracturing into fragments of lifeless stone. Its burning core—now revealed from the receding masses blood that once covered it—burned no longer. Its eyes extinguished, its gaze nonexistent.
As his knees bucked—collapsing to the ground—the singular point of blood exploded. The force which collapsed it was no longer present, the crimson liquid splattered across the emerald, stone-ridden field. The burning concrete of nature's creation fell fragmented into the soil it once came from.
Its semblance of life had been extinguished.
Clang…
Quies took a deep, hoarse breath in.
But he staggered to the ground immediately-
Cough, cough.
he bucked over—planting his worn palm on the bed of grass as dark blood spilled from his mouth and nose. His eyes felt like they would explode; his mind fragmented and split into a hundred pieces, crushed by his overflowing dissonance.
Indeed, he had pushed past the limits of his mind.
'Sh-shit…'
He struggled to breathe in between falling spurts of blood—tainting the soil below. Tears of anguish flowed from his eyes and down his weary face; sharp pains shot through every nerve ending in his body as his mind tried desperately to hold its sanity intact.
Clang…
A hand moved to wipe the crimson flowing out of his face as he took another deep breath in.
And then, a breath out.
Co-cough.
His fist pounded the ground as he was finally able to regain his bearing. The pain began to evaporate as he felt his blood enhancement replenish the strength in his muscles. His dissonant chorus hummed quietly as ether soothed the voids of his conscience.
Breath in.
Breath out.
'I'm… just fine.'
With one final and exaggerated exhale, he managed to lift his body upwards. Still kneeling on both knees, he stared at the mound of crimson-stained stone in front of him. Luckily, he didn't need to expend as much blood as he needed. Still, he could already feel the effects of blood loss even if he was compensating it with a faster flow through his veins.
Maybe he would sit here for a while before continuing.
That… was a contradictorily great plan….
Shadows of lightless black reached out towards him like hands as the sun continued its journey beyond the maroon horizon. Its golden light no longer illuminated the emerald grass of the drifting island, leaving it to the mercy of the dark.
The dark…
He admired the sky—torso and head poised upwards. The varnish of night washed away the azure, now fading orange skies of day. The moon began to rise as the eternal cycle of day trod forward, looking down on reality below with its gaze.
He stared at the pile of rubble in front of him once more.
He had done it.
He had-
Pierce.
A cold pain erupted from the depths of his chest. His eyes widened and strained from the sudden shock.
'Kuheok!'
Blood spewed from his mouth once more—this time a bright red.
He had been stabbed through the chest.