Echoes of the Abyssal Blade: Path to Free Will-Chapter 44: Ancestors of the Beast Tribes

The battlefield sank into silence, save the soft crackle of burning banners and the faint whimpers of the wounded creatures, blood dripped into the earth like rain into sand, the sky, once a blur of smoke and light, now hung dark and chill.

The monstrosity stood at the forefront, with arms relaxed, slumped shoulders, it leaned to the side, gazing at the remains of the beast tribes’ defiance, its eyes were aglow now, brighter than ever before, as if it had enjoyed the banquet of a lifetime.

The remaining beast tribe warriors were no match for it, their hearts beat heavy, their minds clouded with dread, the proud Thunderboars, the agile Nightpaws, the fierce Dorn tribe, their leaders were reduced to broken masses of flesh and bone.

"It’s over," whispered one young beast, shivering.

"No," another growled, older, coughing blood. "It... it can’t end like this..."

The abomination raised a hand, fingers curling like claws toward the last living tribe members.

"Let despair be your final memory," it intoned. "There is no salvation for all of you, be proud for you all will be the reason for advancement."

It took a step forward.

Then another.

Each of its feet shattered the ground.

The warriors of the beast tribes shrank back, a few stepping in front of the children, though they knew it would mean nothing.

It was then...

The wind changed.

It blew from the west, and the abomination paused mid-step. Its grin faltered, and a heavy attack landed from behind him.

"Tsk, I was careless, and I was wondering why you all were not home," laughed the abomination.

"Silence," shouted the massive beast which instantly appeared behind it, "our children’s sacrifice won’t be in vain, at least we now know your methods."

A low chant started to reverberate in the air, gentle at first, then growing louder, a long-horned goat-faced humanoid monster with a twisted back, was chanting as it struck the gong on its hand, obviously this was a severe soul attack on the abomination.

The injured beasts lifted their heads, some blinked, not knowing if it was real, others knelt down and cried, for they knew what it meant.

Their ancestors have come to rescue them.

Glowing figures took form, they were similar on looks to their descendants, but their forms were more regal and majestic.

First among them was Rogarn the Ancestor of the Dorn tribe, an enormous mammoth whose figure surpassed everyone in size, with its large trunk, and feets the very ground was shaking.

"You trespass upon our home, Abomination," Rogarn growled. "And spill the blood of my kin."

Beside him appeared Valha of the Nightfur tribe, an ancient being with silver claws on her paws, her eyes glowing like the moon.

"Today, you will pay in kind."

The abomination twitched.

It stepped back.

Then, it screamed, its back was pierced with a large and sharpened tusk, noticing he was attacked from behind by the ancestor of the Thunderboar tribe.

Anger evident in the abomination’s eyes, it slapped the ancestor of the Thunderoar tribe away from him clutching his chest.

"You lowly mongrels only know how to sneak attack me, I will rip all of you to shreds," despite being extremely powerful at birth, the abomination was a newborn after all, and it didn’t possess any battle experience, it only knew how to slap ant-like beings to death.

Noticing this weakness of the abomination only, did the ancestors of the beasts try attacking him, or else none of them dared to face it head-on.

The ground behind it cracked open like a maw, and two shapes slithered forth.

Two serpents, they were etheral and otherwordly, instead of flesh and blood, they looked more like beings created out of light.

One, a luminous serpent of pure blue flame, shimmering with celestial radiance.

The other, a shadow-dripping snake, its form shifting constantly, trailing smoke and madness.

They coiled around the abomination, opening their maw and swallowing all the flesh and blood scattered on the battlefield.

The beast tribes gasped.

Even the ancestors hesitated.

"What... are those?" Valha hissed.

"They are its spirits," Rogarn growled. "How..How can he have a contract with two spirits."

The abomination grinned menacingly at all of them and beckoned his spirit to come to him, after devouring, they instantly fused with the abomination.

Its form started to change, it was burning with a blue flaming radiance, and its wounds were healing at an unimaginable rate with shadow-like substances.

The abomination stood tall, its form lean, had two portrusions behind its back, from which two snakes slipped out and coiled behind him. Its injuries were healing at an impossible rate, flesh reforming like molten metal reforming itself, flowing over the slashes and blisters that scarred its shape.

A low, sonorous growl shook the air as the monstrosity spread its huge, clawed hands.

"Now, you insignificant beasts," it growled, its voice venomous and mocking. "Let me demonstrate the full measure of my strength, all of you believe you can halt me? I will destroy you."

The forebears of the beast tribes, while awed by the abomination’s metamorphosis, did not waver, they had come so far, and they would not allow their people, their tribes, or their heritage to descend into oblivion without a struggle.

Rogarn, the great mammoth, stamped the earth, making the ground itself shake at his feet. His tusks shone with ancient might, sharper than the sharpest blades. He charged, his huge body an irresistible force, shaking the battlefield with each step.

But the horror acted too quickly, with one sweep of its newly powerful arm, the mammoth ancestor was knocked backward, crashing into the bestial horde behind it, killing many weaker beasts in the process.

"Pathetic," the abomination sneered, its glowing eyes contracting as it shifted its attention to Valha, the Nightfur ancestor whose claws were as silver as her fur. Her eyes shone with the rage of a thousand wolves, her movements liquid and elegant. She moved through the air like a flash of moonlight, her claws out, pointed straight for the abomination’s throat.

But the horror foretold her every step. It whirled, its radiating arm cutting through the air in a flash, striking Valha with such power that the Nightfur ancestor stumbled back into the earth, her silver claws digging into the soil like knives. She fought to get up, her breathing harsh, blood spattering the earth beneath her.

"You think you can kill me?" the horror cackled.

With a bellow, it shifted its attention to the Thunderboar ancestor, the giant of a beast who had dared attack from behind, the Thunderboar ancestor, a behemoth of unyielding strength, stood up from the earth where he had been sent tumbling by the abomination’s earlier blow, his eyes raging with rage, his tusks curling like spears as he charged once more, his body sizzling with power.

The abomination, having become a creature of blue flame and darkness, confronted his charge directly, it swung its great, clawed hand, striking the Thunderboar ancestor by the tusks and knocking him to the earth.

The ground itself shook as the Thunderboar writhed, his body flashing with storm energy, but the monstrosity would not stop, it hoisted the Thunderboar aloft into the air and slammed him to the ground again, leaving behind a crater in the ground that seemed to consume him.

The battlefield was in disarray, the beast tribe warriors had long since retreated, their wills shattered by the sheer might of the abomination, some were running for their lives, others had perished in the battles before, yet still the ancestors pressed on, not faltering.

With each blow, the abomination became stronger, taking on the shape of flame and shadow, moving quicker and more erratically. It played with its victims, enjoying the terror and agony of the beast ancestors as they tried to defend themselves.

But even with the odds, the ancestors were not without their own might. Their attachment to the spirits of their own has yet to be displayed and they would not perish without calling upon their own spirits.

Rogarn, his enormous body battered but unyielding, let out a victorious bellow as he raised his trunk high into the air, his voice ringing out across the battlefield, summoning the spirits of his people, the ancient ones who had long walked the earth alongside the beasts.

At his whim, the air started to burn, and from the earth a colossal, flame, it was the spirit with it merged, qith a sound that resembled thunder, the spirit released a blast of unclean, raw power, a shockwave that knocked the abomination back on its heels.

Valha, her battered body was not broken, stood up, her silver claws shining with savage, moonlit power as she, too, called upon her spirit, the air above her grew dark, and out of the shadows emerged the great spirit of her, it was a great, ghostly wolf, its fur shining like the night sky, its eyes blazing with the wisdom of the ages, it howled, the earth-shaking at its voice, and with a flash of silver light, it sprang at the abomination.

The Thunderboar ancestor, still reeling from his past defeat, battled alongside the others, his voice thunder as he called upon the great spirit of his, a behemoth spear, whose horns were imbued with the power of the air, burst forth from the earth, its hooves pounding the earth like the rage of a hurricane, charged up with unmatched energy, its form crackling with the rage of lightning itself.