Chapter 71: Paying The Cost

  Erik looked at the hound, then John—his uncle’s eyes were glazed over…he was controlling it.

  “Let her go,” Erik warned between gritted teeth.

  “I don’t think I will,” the Warlock responded, his eyes returning to normal as he coughed. “But she won’t be harmed. Not if you agree to help me. Join me.”

  “He won’t do that,” Sophie screamed.

  John summoned Soot Edge and pointed the dark sword at her throat. “Well, that would just mean he doesn’t care that much about his friends, wouldn’t it?”

  Erik felt stuck. He didn’t know what to do. If he moved, his uncle John would kill Sophie. If he did nothing…if only he could use his aura to control the large Hellhound, but it was too powerful. Its own aura was basic, but strong. It was…another tier. Was that why they were so resistant to their attacks? They were Bronze rank! But John hadn’t ranked up, Erik would’ve noticed that. John was strong, but the quality behind him was much lower than that of Tuwa and Sun—not that much stronger than Erik’s own.

  An idea sprang to mind. He would have to get lucky if this was going to work.

  Erik spread his aura outwards, clashing harmlessly against John’s and the hound’s aura. There was no hostile intent behind it, as John would sense that despite the apparent lack of unity between him and his magic.

  Unifying himself with his magic was something Erik made his first attempt at during his first fight in the woods whilst trying to save that one kid from the Hellbeast Erik had led to his and his mother’s camp. Back then, he only connected to it, which John also must’ve done by now. The real unification, the moment Erik became a true Remnant, wasn’t until after he absorbed his first power when staying in the hotel in Cambridge.

  Unity, or merging, wasn’t needed to absorb or use powers. John was a prime example of that, though Erik felt it easier after having done so. It gave Erik a certain instinct, like knowing his powers’ names, but also limitations, costs, and cooldowns.

  If John had merged with his magic this way, he would have realised that Erik had stolen his Soot Edge ability, like Jessie knew when he stole her Ease The Burden. To her, it was a hole in her magical core. To John, it was probably something he just suddenly couldn’t reach.

  This instinct told Erik that his plan would work. His aura stretched as far towards his uncle’s direction as he could, and this would cost more than normal…but he had been right, and it would work.

  He paid the energy cost and activated his Authority aura effect. It bottomed him out, a first while remaining so still. He almost dropped to his knees but found the strength to keep standing as the threat to Sophie still loomed above him.

  “All out of breath, kid? Even if you could beat me one-on-one, my true power lies in my army. More are on the way, but I don’t think I’ll need them for what’s coming next,” his uncle grinned uncharacteristically.

  Erik calmed his breath and his spinning head. He had to hold on a bit more. The fight wasn’t over. Not yet. He retracted his aura, making it passive. His already bestial hands and feet didn’t require any upkeep, so it would save his energy to keep them in their current form rather than turning them back to normal.

  The Titan entered a low-powered mode as he waited for his last hope to bear fruit. His miasma would be useful for what came next, but he didn’t dare activate it again now.

  John cleared his throat to keep taunting Erik, but a sound coming from the cave behind him caused him to turn. A massive, dark figure appeared like a shadow from the entrance.

  “What are you doing?” John yelled, voice tainted with anger. He pointed back towards the cave and shouted, “Get back to your hole!”

  The grand form of a horrific demonic hound kept creeping forward; each time its large forelegs slammed onto the ground to pull itself ahead, the sound reverberated in the cave behind it. It was almost entirely black, its eyes and dry, hide-like chest the only things having a dark, blood-red colour instead. Even its terrifying teeth and claws were pitch black, and the claws tore up the ground as it moved.

  As more of its body revealed itself, Erik could see a great, big growth on its belly. The giant lump was full of slime, blood, and mucus, and it had a wide tear across it on the underside of the hound. The unfinished and unliving form of a regular-sized Hellhound lay hanging out of the rift, getting dragged along the ground along with its grotesque mother.

  It truly was a horrifying sight to behold, but Erik felt nothing but empathy for the poor dog his uncle had turned into this monstrosity of a birthing factory. He realised that this was the culmination of his uncle’s Darkbeast core ability and his growth power working together to create an army of semi-Darkbeasts, which he could then program with simple instructions.

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  Erik watched the back of his uncle’s head with disgrace as John kept yelling fruitlessly at the Darkbeast. Erik’s Authority would win out over the simple commands John gave it, but the effect wasn’t unbeatable; the only reason it took hold of the beast in the first place, was because Erik hadn’t ordered it to do anything against its initial orders.

  Ignoring the Warlock it was made to serve, the form crawled towards the large Hellhound holding Sophie captured. The hound itself still watched Erik as if it was completely ignorant of what was happening elsewhere. John dismissed his sword and slammed his fist into the neck of the mother creature, causing it to whine in pain as it continued on its way.

  Erik had realised how the larger, Bronze-tier Hellbeasts had likely been birthed, something he guessed even his uncle didn’t understand. By using his growth-power so much, much more so than any of his other abilities over the last few months, he had ranked it up to Bronze.

  This could’ve given an extra effect, like a small chance to create bigger and stronger monsters, but Erik thought it more likely that the Darkbeast ability wasn’t able to keep up the demands of the growth power as John’s Core ability and the Darkbeast itself remained at Iron-tier until all the Warlock’s abilities evolved to Bronze.

  There was the case of the first Hellbeast he fought, though. Had it grown up a tier by itself, or had it evolved because of an effect?

  The demonic mother hound bit down on its massive child and tore into it with its claws in one heavy motion. Its large spawn roared in pain and shook to get loose, pushing Sophie away with a yelp. The push, and the subsequent fall, looked harmless, so Erik couldn’t afford to check on her right away.

  The Titan dashed forward with his elongated claws the instant the mother bit down on its child, catching his uncle John by surprise. Unable to deal with both the Darkbeast and Erik at once, the Warlock twirled and blocked Erik’s sharp claws with his own demonic hands.

  In a red, fiery flash, the Warlock’s entire body had transformed into something scaly and demonic, not too far removed from Erik’s usual clawed hand. In a flash, he had two short and curly horns and black eyes and lips, his teeth a mix of yellow and red, with black claws on his hands. With a deviant grin, the demonised Warlock pushed back on Erik. Erik jumped back, landing in a roll and boosted himself through the air with his powerful legs, straight back at John.

  Their claws clashed, and clashed again, the brutal last battle between uncle and nephew drawing wounds on both parties. The loud roars of the massive hounds still muffled the sounds of battle as they fought only metres away, the chronically birthing mother losing the fight against its more powerful offspring.

  John wasn’t as out of energy as Erik was, which allowed him to use all his powers without considering endurance—something he didn’t hesitate to take advantage of when he noticed Erik wasn’t using any abilities at all.

  Black flames soon burned all around them, the ambient heat like that of a furnace. Erik’s skin was growing red and dry, cracking to release blood that soon dried as the water in it evaporated. His body was getting ravaged with wounds, both open and sealed by his uncle’s black claws and sword.

  Though it appeared Erik was losing, his uncle, too, was growing slow. Suddenly, John kicked Erik’s legs, causing the Titan to lose his balance, and his uncle pushed him to the ground, pushing his claws into Erik’s chest. The Warlock smiled, black blood running along his cheek from the edge of his mouth and left nostril.

  “It’s too bad it had to end—” John growled and coughed. “—like this, kid! Give my best to my brother.”

  John twisted his sharp claws inside Erik’s chest. The Titan screamed in agony, the feeling of burning pain reminding him of his first death. Again, Erik was helpless to do anything. This time, he was so close. His uncle was right there.

  Uncle.

  Murderer.

  Murderer.

  An explosion of sound rocked Erik to the core. Both his own and his uncle’s eyes opened wide, sharing in the confusion. The loud boom repeated, and John twitched in response. As black blood started running from the Warlock’s eye, the demonised man exhaled what little breath he had remaining and slumped down on top of Erik, unmoving.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  Each explosion caused John’s body to wobble on top of Erik, like being prodded by a stick. As the sound stopped repeating, Erik gathered the strength to push his uncle off. Then he saw Sophie. The golden-haired, fair-skinned girl stood with a large gun in her small hands. The gun was pointed straight at John’s back, even after Erik had moved him a bit to the side.

  Her eyes were cold, her lips, usually full and moist, were dry and thin, a mix of fear and anger laying waste to her face. Erik looked at John beside him. He saw two holes in the back of his head and another three on the upper back.

  “Erik?” she quivered, her hand trembling. Her entire fist, wrapped around the steely grip of the gun, was white as chalk.

  Erik fought to get up on his feet, careful to keep away from the black fire still scattered around the charred ground. “Sophie,” he said with a breathy voice, his dry throat screaming for moisture. He zigzagged towards her, not able to keep walking straight as his head was spinning from dehydration, blood loss, and lack of energy.

  “Erik!” she screamed, her voice cracking as her eyes shot up. She pulled the trigger again as Erik turned back towards his uncle.

  John was up, black sludge pouring from every hole in his body, Erik’s miasma from their first fight having broken down most of his insides by now. How the man could stand, littered with bullet holes and black sludge as he was, Erik didn’t know.

  John had his black sword in his hand, his eyes white and glossed over as if he was just acting on reflexes. The Warlock leaned back and threw the sword with a deathly groan. The Warlock’s body fell to the ground once more, this time as a puddle of skin and black, deconstructed mass.

  With all his might, Erik threw himself into the path of the black blade and Sophie, shouting as he did. “No!”

  Sophie stood frozen, unable to move away fast enough to make a difference. The sword ripped through Erik’s hand like a meteor through butter as he tried grabbing it, bone and skin melting in its wake. The sword was past him, and all he could do was fall to the ground, looking in horror as the conjured blade pierced through Sophie’s chest.

  “Sophie!”