Blood Immortal
Chapter Nineteen

The Immortal Spirits

On the following morning, Aarian awoke feeling at peace with himself. Perhaps this was because he finally released his bottled-up emotions last night. Regardless of the reason, he reequipped his damaged armor, grabbed his partially melted shield, and exited his tent.

“Good morning, Aarian,” said Scar.

“Hail,” he said, smiling.

“I must say, you look very well rested,” said Scar, squawking. “I recently scouted the area again and found no signs of impending doom. So, I guess we get to live for another few hours.”

“You still have your sense of humor after all these years,” said Aarian, shaking his head while observing the cloudy sky that was still red and hazy.

Scar laughed and replied, “I pride myself with humor.”

“I know,” said Aarian amusingly, walking across the encampment and joining the other guardians who were eating fruits. “How’s everyone holding up?”

“They’re alive,” answered Xel’vakora, tossing a loaf of bread to the prince.

“Thanks,” said Aarian, catching the bread and taking a bite. “I suppose that will have to do for now.” He briefly looked around and saw that the majority of the savages and elves were having a meal too. “Well, I think we should take down the tents and leave as soon as everybody is finished eating.”

“Are we going to breach Jerelaith?” asked Varkagorsa.

“That’s the plan,” replied Aarian reluctantly. “I expect there to be heavy resistance. If we faced Gar’kon here, then I have no doubt we’ll be confronting more immortals. We can’t let our guard down.”

“You know, considering that Gar’kon was an ‘immortal’ I think you managed to dispose of his Spirit easily,” said Parla’vasa.

“That’s only because Xen sacrificed her Spirit to me,” said Aarian sternly. “And keep in mind that Falvorn and his clan perished in seconds with one swift spell. If we fight other demon lords, especially two or more at the same time, we will have more causalities unless we’re fully prepared and vigilant.”

“You’re right,” she said. “I’ll try to be as vigilant as possible.”

Aarian nodded at her. He then finished eating and waited until the alliance was ready to leave. By midday they had taken down the makeshift tents and advanced north toward Jerelaith, or at least what used to be the capital of Vlydyn. The farther they traveled, the more the desolate land worsened. Fissures littered the cracked land, molten lava spewing out. The sweltering heat increased. The sky grew darker. Many of the alliance felt distraught by what they saw. Yet they had little choice but to push forward.

After several hours of traveling through the ruptured wasteland, they were finally able to see the remnants of Jerelaith; it was a city littered with dozens of collapsed buildings and hills made of rubble.

“There it is,” said Aarian, pointing north. “I can hardly believe we’ve come this far. The hell rift is somewhere in the ruins. Hurry!”

The alliance obeyed and made haste. Soon the sky couldn’t be seen by anyone. The four moons were blocked by the clouds that were so red they looked as if they’d release blood instead of rain. Then a fiery dot appeared from high above, falling. Upon seeing this, numerous savages growled and hissed at it. Elves winced, thinking it was some sort of meteor. When it drew closer to them, however, they realized that it wasn’t a meteor; it was a demon descending.

Not a minute later, the being smashed into the terrain, creating a crater and producing a tremor that sent numerous regiments to the ground. Rising up was a demon made of mud and flames. Just then, hundreds of tentacle and horned demons appeared by Jerelaith’s crumbled entrance. Thousands of savages and elves gasped, wondering if they should retreat.

“Your army is admirable, Dralekar,” said the sludge demon. “But it is futile against the might of Thay’tal.”

Aarian gulped heavily, realizing that the demon lord before him was the spirit he had prayed to the most. How could this be? He still found it hard to believe that all but one of the divine Nine were actually demons. Shaking his head, he focused on the present and stared at Thay’tal with revulsion.

“Pretending to be a benevolent being was a waste of time,” said Aarian. “In the end, we were still able to discover the truth of your malice. Fortunately for you, I won’t fool you. I’ll gladly show you how malevolent I can be.”

Without a moment’s notice, Aarian leapt off Scar and transformed into his demon form. He changed so quick that his armor fractured and sizzled off him. Ignoring the crazed reaction Scar had of seeing him in a demonic form, he flew directly toward Thay’tal who produced an uppercut so powerful that Aarian flew over his army, smashing against the ruptured ground. He struggled but finally got up, only to be greeted by a sludgy fist.

“You should have prayed to me more,” said Thay’tal, clobbering him.

After getting his face bashed into the ground dozens of times, Aarian, his demonic body blazing with fury, grabbed the demon lord’s muddy fists and overpowered him. Within seconds of wrestling with Thay’tal, he managed to switch places with him and pounded Thay’tal in the face until thirty feet under the ground.

“I’m not a believer anymore,” said Aarian, producing a haymaker.

At that point, Aarian clobbered Thay’tal with a barrage of punches so powerful and hard that the terrain shook. After dozens of blows, the demon lord’s body burst, sending Aarian up to the surface. Afterwards, the Spirit of Thay’tal ascended from the chasm and hovered toward the prince to consume his soul. Though wounded from the abrupt blast, Aarian promptly rose to his feet and conjured a javelin of pure light. Roaring louder than Earamathras, he hurled the javelin with all his might into the Spirit, vanquishing him.

In the meantime, the demon army stomped toward the alliance who dashed over to them with their weapons ready. Varkagorsa used his enchanted katana, swiping at his enemies while Zavoba hurled his axe into one. Shakar assisted the troll, pouncing on the demon and mauling its face until its features were no longer discernible. Parla’vasa used a magical bow with icy arrows from a distance, assisting the savages who were at the frontlines. When members of the alliance were killed in battle, Xel’vakora raised them from the dead, fighting again.

Aarian eventually approached and joined the battle, clawing demons apart and spewing holy fire on them. He then rammed into another demon, impaling it with his horns and throwing it three miles away. A few more hellish fiends approached the battlefield, one of them hurling a fireball at Zavoba who developed fourth-degree burns and died. Witnessing this, Varkagorsa produced an outcry so earsplitting that it caused the demons to stagger and beheaded the fiend that killed his comrade-in-arms.

Hundreds of savages and elves were being brutally killed. Demons ripped them apart with their deformed claws, feasted on them, and conjured spells of fire to obliterate them. Yet they did not give up; the remaining members of the alliance fought back with all their heart, driving back the demon army. Xel’vakora continued to raise the dead, at least until a serpent demon slithered behind him. It swiftly coiled its body around him and sank its poisonous fangs into his neck. He gasped in excruciating pain before being swallowed whole.

“Xel’vakora!” shrieked Parla’vasa, shooting arrows at the serpent demon.

“Thay’tal was arrogant and foolish,” hissed the demon lord. “I, however, am the Spirit of endurance. I shall persist for eternity.”

“U’cleria?” gasped Parla’vasa, taking a step back.

Dozens of orcs and trolls tried to attack her, but she spewed acid on most of them and whacked others with her rattling tail. U’cleria then reached out to swallow Parla’vasa when she was suddenly pulled back.

“What is this?” said U’cleria in disarray.

Turning her elongated body, she realized Aarian had lifted her. U’cleria hastily wrapped her slithery tail around his neck in a knot, trying to choke him. Coughing out flame and gasping in pain, he had no choice but to release her and undo the knot. She then lunged at him, trying to bite his throat with her fangs. Aarian promptly used a hand to hold her snout back.

“You’ll have to try harder to swallow me, devil,” said Aarian, keeping U’cleria at bay with one hand while using his other to lessen her tail’s grip on his neck. “In fact, you should surrender before I do the same to you.”

“Silence!” hissed U’cleria, her tail rattling.

Overwhelmed with hatred, she drew closer to Aarian’s throat despite his strength. Just then, Scar swooped down and clawed her face. She immediately released Aarian, striking him with her tail while withdrawing. Acid and blood gushed from her slit face, hissing wildly. Not five seconds later, her skin shed. When this happened, she produced a hideous laugh, restored. She slithered forward, her scaly hood expanding, and glared at Aarian as her snout formed the most grotesque grin.

“Your fate is sealed!” exclaimed U’cleria, her forked tongue slithering out, smelling his flesh. “As I said before, protégée of Xen, I am the immortal Spirit of endurance. I will linger for all eternity.”

That instant, she lunged at Aarian who swiftly evaded her poisonous fangs several times. U’cleria attacked him quicker each time. He knew her speed would eventually exceed his, so he spread his enflamed wings and leaped into the air. Landing opposite her, he seized her rattling tail, yanking her over to him. Doing so, he switched his grip to the center of her serpentine body with a wicked grin of his own.

“Endure this,” said Aarian, ripping her slithery body in half.

U’cleria gave out an ear-piercing screech as green blood gushed out of her torn body. She then ignited into flames and dissolved. At that point, Aarian held his hand out and released a ray of holy light into her Spirit, causing it to explode and disperse into nothingness. Aarian searched to replace Xel’vakora but only found bones; it was too late.

“Light of Xen,” said Parla’vasa, her face pale.

“Don’t lose focus,” said Aarian monstrously. “He fought bravely and died a noble death for a dark elf. Fight on!”

Parla’vasa gave a faint nod and rejoined the battle with Aarian who continuously clawed demons’ contorted faces until completely mauled. He eventually conjured a gargantuan sword of light, lacerating other hellish fiends whose fiery spines and craniums were adorned with serrated spikes. After slaying dozens of demons, the sky darkened as if nightfall had arrived when in fact it was still hours away.

Suddenly an outrageous tempest formed before Aarian, crack-shaped bolts of lightning gathering together until a demon formed out of them, its body filled with electrical currents so deadly that the voltage of his power sporadically let out discharges without him even trying to attack. Aarian didn’t have to wait for the hellish fiend to speak in order to guess that it was none other than Cyrael who launched a bolt of lightning at him.

Knocked off his feet, Aarian landed a mile away from the battlefield. Faster than light, it seemed to the prince, the demon lord teleported in front of him. Gasping in pain, Aarian got to his feet and, with all of his might, extended his fist upward to Cyrael’s chin. The sound of his uppercut resonated like the thunder of Cyrael’s lightning, sending him into the clouds. Aarian expanded his wings and took off, flying straight toward Cyrael. As soon as Aarian reached the demon lord, he produced a heinous smirk.

“Did you enjoy the flight?” he asked, gritting his teeth.

Without waiting for a response, Aarian bashed Cyrael so hard in the face that he literally flew into the firmament. Aarian then hurled his colossal sword of light through the heavens, its blade piercing through the Spirit who, without even having had the chance to introduce himself, dispersed into lifeless sparks, never to be seen again.

Aarian descended from the heavens, landing on the corpse-infested battlefield to assist his companions. At this point only hundreds of savages and high elves remained alive from the tens of thousands who had first come with him—they were being slaughtered by two immortal Spirits. The first demon lord, whose icy visage grew hoarfrost, had razor-sharp icicles for fingers and a glaciered body enveloped in bluish hellfire. The other being, on the contrary, had a skeletal face with horns along its cranium, a fiery-red body, and wielded a multi-tailed whip. Right away Aarian assumed the arctic being was Lólindir and that the scorching one must be Zartos.

Trying to summon holy magic to eradicate them, Zartos lashed Aarian with his whip and flung him across the battlefield. Before he could get up, Lólindir blasted him with a beam so cold that it started to freeze his legs in place. She then conjured a razor-sharp icicle, hurling it at his legs to crack them. Enraged by these attacks, Aarian burst into flames, melting the ice. Yet the icicle still jabbed into his thigh, blood leaking down his leg. Yelping in pain, even more furious with flame searing around him like an aura, the icicle thawed. He then used the power of light to heal his thigh. Within seconds the deep wound sealed.

“What blasphemy is this?” snarled Lólindir.

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” retorted Aarian, waving his claw-like hand at both Spirits in a taunting manner, not caring that he was facing two immortals at once. “I want the two of you to try that again.”

“Consume his pitiful Spirit!” scoffed Zartos, lifting his whip of many thongs.

Aarian gritted his teeth and instantaneously reached Lólindir, grabbing and throwing her directly onto Zartos who turned into a block of ice before having the chance to lash Aarian with his fiery whip. Clomping toward them, Aarian thrust his enflamed fist into Lólindir’s stomach, liquefying her. He then turned to Zartos who remained frozen and stomped on him, splintering his body into dozens of icy particles.

Without waiting another moment, Aarian used his holy magic to conjure an axe almost as immense as the cyclops he’d confronted in the arena and swirled it, tearing Lólindir’s soul apart. He then turned around and hurled the enormous weapon at the Spirit of Zartos, and that was the last time anyone prayed to him.

“Your souls are pathetic!” exclaimed Aarian.

By the time he had finished dealing with them, the other demons lay dead thanks to the remaining alliance. Though, only a few hundred of them were alive. Warlord Varkagorsa lifted Zavoba’s scorched body and roared in a lamenting tone, as did every other orc and troll. Aarian refused to be emotional lest he lose his demon form. He let Zavoba’s death be another reason for him to be angry, strengthening him evermore so that he could return to his decrepit capital, replace the remaining Spirits, destroy them, and seal the link between Yunedar and the demonic nether once and for all.