In the pitch black, the only sounds to be heard were the trembling breaths of the shackled prisoners and the muffled clinking of rusty chains scraping together. The stifling stench of confinement and dampness hung heavily in the air. Kaelith held his breath in that godforsaken ship's hold, void of even the slightest sliver of light. His hand instinctively went to the dagger at his waist. The moment his fingers wrapped around the cold hilt, he hurled his weapon into the dark, aiming directly at the faint sound.
Clang!
The dagger struck an invisible, hard surface mid-air. A golden spark flashed for a brief second, and the piece of metal fell helplessly to the wooden floor.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk..." a mocking voice echoed from the darkness. "Kaelith... Did you really think such cheap tricks could bypass my sacred barrier?"
Kaelith narrowed his eyes. He couldn't make out the silhouette before him. A single wrong move in the dark could cost the life of one of the innocent prisoners around him. His mind began to race. Think, Kaelith, think. What would Silas do if he were here?
As the man in the dark began to walk toward him with heavy steps, he dropped his invisibility spell, as if eager to show off the transparent, golden barrier surrounding him. The dim, magical light illuminating his face revealed his identity.
It was none other than the ship's first mate, Aektal.
"We know everything that goes on aboard this ship," Aektal said, an arrogant smirk plastered on his face. "We've known since the beginning that you sneaked onto this vessel, and we know exactly what you're after. But we will not allow a bug like you to interfere with the flawless plans of our Supreme God, Vorgul."
Kaelith paused for a moment. The pieces were falling into place. A god? Flawless plans? A divine barrier... This man isn't a simple mage, he's a cleric!
Trying to maintain his composure, Kaelith stood tall. "Which god did you say you worshipped, Aektal?"
The smirk on Aektal's face gave way to pure, unadulterated rage. "I don't have time for the stupid questions of a heretic like you!"
The moment the words left his mouth, Aektal thrust his hand forward, completely ignoring the distance between them. His palm suddenly began to glow with a blinding, deep purple light. A stench of graveyard dirt and rotting flesh instantly filled the space; the air inside the hold turned freezing cold for a split second. "May the greatest wisdom of the God of Death, Vorgul—death itself—be with you!"
A dense wave of darkness erupted from Aektal's palm, tearing through the air as it flew toward Kaelith. Kaelith instinctively tried to throw himself out of the way, but the wave was so fast that he couldn't dodge it completely.
"AAAAARGH!"
Kaelith's agonizing scream echoed through the ship's hold. The dark wave had obliterated the upper part of his left shoulder and a section of the wooden ceiling behind him, atomizing them as if they had never existed. All that remained was a massive, smoking gouge radiating the smell of blood and burnt flesh.
Losing his balance and collapsing to his knees, Kaelith tried to catch his breath, his body trembling from the pain. The situation was far more serious than he had anticipated. Yet, despite the agony, the corners of his lips curled upward. "Aektal... You mentioned death, huh? I'm quite intimate with that term."
At that moment, the necklace around Kaelith's neck began to glow a ruby red, like hellfire. A heavy, rusty metallic scent spread outward, overpowering the stench of death in the hold. The obliterated shoulder muscles, bones, and skin knit themselves back together with a speed that was as grotesque as it was mesmerizing—as if sewn by invisible threads—returning to their original state in mere seconds.
Aektal's eyes widened in sheer shock. "Blood magic? How... Where did you learn dark magic of this magnitude? You aren't just an ordinary assassin. We've severely underestimated you!"
Instead of answering, Kaelith suddenly lunged forward. With daggers materializing in both his hands, he rained consecutive blows upon Aektal's shield, but the golden barrier merely rippled in response.
Seizing the opening, Aektal sent another wave of death right into Kaelith's abdomen. Just like his shoulder, Kaelith's stomach was hollowed out, leaving a massive void.
Flung flat onto his back, Kaelith doubled over in agony. Though his body rapidly repaired itself thanks to the blood magic, the traumatic pain of his flesh and organs tearing apart and fusing back together numbed his mind. Witnessing this brutality in the dim light, the surrounding prisoners cowered in their corners in terror; some hid their faces as much as their chains allowed, while others plugged their ears.
Gritting his teeth, Kaelith pushed himself up from the floor. His mind rapidly formulated a tactic. This cleric relies on prayers to shield himself against physical attacks. That's why my daggers can't pierce the barrier. Then I need to give him something non-physical...
Old, dark memories rushed before his eyes. He hated using this power. For a brief moment, a piercing scream from that day echoed in his mind; a cold knot settled in his stomach, and his fingertips tingled. But he had no other choice. He spread his arms wide and began to bend the blood pooling in the air and on the floor.
"How are you doing this?!" Aektal yelled, a sliver of fear creeping into his voice for the first time. "ANSWER ME, KAELITH! WHERE DID YOU LEARN THIS?"
"I don't have time for such stupid questions, Aektal," Kaelith whispered.
Intense droplets of blood rising from above and below his hands shapeshifted in the air, forming into triangular blood spears with razor-sharp tips. When Kaelith thrust his hands forward, the crimson spears slammed into Aektal's divine barrier at a terrifying speed.
SHATTER! The supposedly unbreakable shield vanished, scattering in every direction like glass shards. The ship's wooden floor groaned from the sheer force of the impact, and dust rained down from the planks above them.
"Fuck!" Aektal cursed in a panic. In a final act of desperation, he clapped his hands together and hurled a scorching spell directly at Kaelith's face.
The spell grazed Kaelith, scorching his skin. Kaelith crashed to the ground in pain. Although his face began to heal instantly, his vision blurred for several seconds. Aektal had no intention of stopping. He raised his hand into the air once more. "Now I'll finish you off, you frea—"
Kaelith reflexively rolled to the right. Right at that split second, a prisoner—who had stretched his rusty chains to their absolute limit instead of cowering in his corner—shot his leg out from the darkness and kicked Aektal's kneecap with all his might. This self-sacrificing move threw Aektal completely off balance, saving Kaelith from certain death.
With one eye newly regenerated, Kaelith didn't miss this fleeting opportunity. He brought his hands close together rapidly, and as the blood between them condensed, he suddenly yanked his right hand away from his left. The elongating blood whip transformed into a deadly scythe mid-air.
"AARRGGHH!" Aektal's scream shook the entire ship. A deep gash had been ripped across his chest. He collapsed to the ground, coughing up blood. "You bastard... This magic you're using was banned by the Grand Archive centuries ago! Considering that was the very purpose the Archive was founded, how can a brat like you wield this magic so freely? You should have shriveled up and died from blood loss by now!"
Kaelith stood up slowly as the last of the burn marks on his face closed over, emitting wisps of smoke. There was not a single shred of pity in his eyes. In a cold voice, he said, "I guess I'm not a normal person, then."
This time, he morphed the blood in the air into two crimson daggers and pounced on Aektal without hesitation. Aektal desperately tried to counter with weak spells, but Kaelith gave him no room to breathe.
With a final sliver of hope, Aektal resorted to a secret technique. He pressed both hands against his bleeding stomach; his veins began to bulge, and his body slowly took on a sickly green hue. He was preparing a self-destruct or last-resort spell.
Realizing the gravity of the situation, Kaelith didn't hesitate. He accelerated his dash and drove the blood dagger in his hand straight through Aektal's neck in a single, perfectly smooth motion.
Aektal's body shuddered violently before slumping to the ground, the light in his eyes slowly fading away.
Kaelith took a deep breath as he looked down at the corpse. The stench of death in the hold had given way to the pungent, throat-burning, rusty smell of fresh blood. Kaelith whispered slowly:
"You are with your beloved god now, Aektal."