Chapter 284 - Brothers (Patreon)

Zeke was driven to the ground by the force of the attack, and it was just in time, too, because he narrowly avoided another sweeping strike from a sword-wielding dwarf. The weapon itself was at least as tall as its bearer, with a wide blade coated in black flames. Without hesitation, Zeke ignored the pain in his back as he rolled to the side and sprang to his feet. Even as he activated [Metallurgical Repair], he sprinted to the edge of the battlefield, where he could put his back to a wall.

That was the only way he could avoid being surrounded.

Once he reached the square’s boundaries, he planted his feet and turned to face the battle raging throughout the area.

It was pure chaos.

Hundreds – perhaps even thousands – of dwarves fought one another, their weapons clashing with shields and armor with thunderous clangs of metal against metal. And interspersed throughout the battlefield were the familiar bronze forms of the golems. However, it only took Zeke one look to realize that something was different with the animated statues.

For one, their bronze skin gleamed with metallic luster, completely devoid of the teal oxidation that had marred the golems Zeke had killed. In fact, they looked brand new, without a single scratch, dent, or mark. Before, the golems had been majestic and menacing, and these newer versions still were – but they were also beautiful in a way Zeke couldn’t really explain. It was the same feeling he’d experienced when looking upon famous paintings back on Earth. They were masterpieces, one and all.

In fact, Zeke felt almost positive that he recognized a few of them from his previous battles. Which only made sense if he’d been thrust back in time. Or perhaps if he’d found himself mired in some sort of corporeal illusion.

Not that it mattered, what with a bunch of battle-crazed dwarves in the area.

Still, Zeke took the few seconds to properly examine his surroundings. And with [Metallurgical Repair] coursing through him, he could feel something very curious.

He could sense a blob of earthen energy inside of every single dwarf. It wasn’t like with the golems; in the case of the animated statues, that energy suffused every inch of their hollow interiors. But with the dwarves, it was just a small spark right where their cores should be. In addition, he could sense voids in that earthen energy as well, and it didn’t take him long to figure out what was going on.

The dwarves had somehow attuned themselves to earthen energy. Or perhaps that was just a fundamental aspect of their anatomy. And the gaps he felt were probably there to make room for all the other sorts of energy that made up life. Vital energy, primarily.

Finally, there was a shining beacon of mana and earthen energy at the center of the square. Zeke didn’t even need to look to know that it originated from the larger statue that he’d seen before. Still, he took a few seconds to look in that direction, and what he saw was more than a little surprising.

From a distance, it seemed as if there was only one shining source. However, upon closer inspection, he saw that there were two. One smaller, and the other much, much larger. That wasn’t really all that shocking. No – what truly took Zeke by surprise was that the statue was the weaker source. The other came from a dwarf.

Even with the thick tendrils of yellow energy twined around the dwarf, Zeke could tell that he had a regal bearing. In a lot of ways, he looked much like any other dwarf. Wide, heavy shoulders, broad features, and a nose like a hatchet were characteristic of his race. However, everything seemed somehow more with this dwarf. As if he’d been carved to represent the ideal version of a dwarf.

But more than his mere appearance, there was something else about him. An aura of power that felt unlike anything Zeke had ever felt. It wasn’t oppressive, like it had been with other powerful creatures he’d encountered. Certainly, it was heavy. So much so that Zeke suspected that if the dwarf turned his attention on him, he’d be crushed into dust. More than anything, Zeke knew that his vaunted durability would count for less than nothing next to the power of this dwarf’s aura.

It didn’t frighten Zeke, though. No more than he’d be frightened when gazing upon a mountain. At the moment, Zeke couldn’t quite explain the difference, but he knew he had nothing to fear from this dwarf.

For now.

But if he made the wrong move, if he threw himself against that monstrous power, he would be crushed like an insect.

The power of the dwarf’s aura was so overbearing that Zeke almost missed the crown on his head. It looked like a simple circlet of mundane iron. But it didn’t take keen intuition to know that it was different. That it was more.

This was the king of the dwarves.

From his position of relative safety – the moment he’d cleared the battlefield, the dwarven warriors had begun to ignore him; it was as if he’d ceased to exist, at least as far as they were concerned – Zeke studied the battlefield, and the surprises kept coming.

Predictably, there were two distinct sides to the fight. On one side were the dwarves like the king, each one radiating earthen energy. On the other were dwarves that seemed far more familiar to his senses. He’d never really noticed it before, but next to the earthen dwarves, it was blatantly obvious that something was missing from the stone dwarves they were fighting. Something vital to their classification as dwarves. No earthen energy coursed through their bodies. None was present in their cores. It was as if they were empty.

Not unlike the golems he’d drained.

Zeke suppressed a shudder.

Ever since his capture, he’d thought there was something wrong with the dwarves. They seemed completely joyless and without purpose, as if the only thing driving them to put one foot in front of the other was sheer habit and stubbornness.

Now, if what he suspected was true, it all made sense.

The stone dwarves had no souls.

Whether they had given them up willingly or if they’d been stolen, Zeke wasn’t sure. What he did know was that it wasn’t natural.

The battle raged. Outwardly, the two sides looked almost identical, but the emptiness Zeke felt was obviously easy to discern for the dwarves as well. So, there was no chance of friendly fire. However, the stone dwarves clearly outnumbered what Zeke thought of as the natural dwarves, and they would have easily won the conflict if it weren’t for the presence of the bronze golems.

Gradually, though, Zeke saw that the king’s energy had begun to wane. It was only a small difference, but it was important. The golems slowed, if only by a tiny amount, and that was all the opening the stone dwarves needed.

After that, the evenly fought battled slowly became a rout. Even as Zeke watched, dozens of dwarves were put down. None of them went down without a fight, and they were valiant to the very end. But the end did come as the wave of stone dwarves washed over the defending army of their kin.

Through it all, Zeke found that he couldn’t move. Some implacable force kept him rooted in place. But even if he was capable of joining the fight, he suspected that it would do no good. The past had already happened, and what he saw before him was merely an echo. A potent one, sure. And if he’d remained on the battlefield, he could have died. But the moment he stepped away, he had become an observer.

And what he saw was horrible.

One death after another, the dwarves fell, each one leaving a cloud of yellow energy behind. Zeke might have been imagining it – after all, he couldn’t see from so far away – but he thought he saw the king’s cheeks glistening with tears as he watched his people being slaughtered. But with every ounce of his energy going to power the golems, he couldn’t move. Instead, he could only watch.

Just like Zeke.

And gradually, the king’s energy petered out. The powerful golems grew listless, and then, they became inert.

The king fell to one knee, his head hanging in defeat. With a heavy sigh that sent a tremble through the earth, the regal dwarf looked up. Though they surrounded him, none of the stone dwarves dared move any closer.

“Dáinn!” called out the king, his voice proud and powerful. It was the sound of two mountains crashing together. “Face me yourself, you damned coward!”

The stone dwarves shuddered at the wave of power that came with the king’s voice. Even Zeke, who was more than a hundred yards away, felt it pushing down on him. It was all he could do to remain standing. A few of the stone dwarves were not so lucky, and they fell to the ground, where they curled into balls of agony. Clearly, they felt the king’s presence far more keenly than Zeke.

But many remained standing, their backs straight and their expressions unyieldingly expressionless.

The king stood. “How many do I need to slaughter, brother?!” called the king. This time, his voice was more normal.

“Can you even stomach it?” came another voice, this one cold and venomous. “They are still your people, Fáinn.”

Zeke turned his head to see another dwarf – presumably Dáinn – approaching from the other side of the square. He was just as powerfully built as the king, but instead of shining armor, he wore robes of the deepest black. He also carried a crystal staff that looked as if it had been made from red crystal. Another familiar energy pulsed along its length, telling Zeke everything he needed to know about the two sides. The newcomer reeked of demonic corruption, and that was doubly true for the straight staff he held.

And to Zeke, that made him the bad guy.

Certainly, his own body was home to plenty of demonic energy, but his aura wasn’t like Dáinn’s. Zeke’s energy was purer. Cleaner. More natural. It was as if the human and demonic sides had cancelled one another out, leaving his aura completely neutral. But Dáinn felt almost exactly like the warlock Zeke had killed what felt like a lifetime ago.

“I will kill as many as I have to,” said the dwarven king. “Your corruption cannot stand. Can you not see that your actions have doomed us all?”

“Doom,” scoffed Dainn, stepping forward. Rank by rank, the stone dwarves parted to allow him free passage. “Nonsense. I have given us access to more power than you could ever imagine. With my efforts –”

“At what cost, brother?” asked Fainn. “Those hollow shells you call followers are no longer dwarves. Not in any way that counts. They are little more than my golems.”

Dainn stopped, banging the end of his staff against the ground. Zeke felt the impact even from so far away. “They are the future!” barked Dainn. “You always were shortsighted. Too focused on the old ways to look to the future. Too blind to see the path before us.”

“And you have ever been too focused on barging ahead, regardless of how many bodies you left in your wake,” was Fainn’s reply.

Dainn shook his head, continuing forward until he was only ten feet from his brother. So close, it was easy to see the resemblance between the two dwarves. Not in their looks – the king had a ruddy complexion and fiery red hair, while the warlock’s hair was pitch black, his skin pale and sallow. But in bearing, they couldn’t have been more obviously related.

“You are my brother,” said Dainn. “For that reason – and that reason alone – I give you a choice. Ascend. You have long since reached the pinnacle. You belong in the Ethereal Plane, where you can rejoin the ancestors you worship so fervently. Do that, and you will live. Refuse, and I will be forced to kill you. I plead with you – now, and before everyone that matters – do not refuse my gift. For the love between us, please do not make me kill you.”

“Kill me? You have grown bold,” said Fainn, shaking his head. “It is my fault. I let this happen. I trusted you too much.” He sighed, pushing himself to his feet. He rolled his shoulders, then said, “I will not make the mistake of underestimating you again.”

With that, the king erupted with golden energy that vaporized his entire body. Zeke blinked, his vision going white for a few seconds before his eyesight returned. Spots danced before his eyes, but he couldn’t miss what had changed.

The dwarven king was gone, leaving nothing but his armor and crown behind.

Clearly, this was unexpected. Dainn stared at the pile of metal and muttered, “What…”

Just then, the clouds of yellow energy left behind by the slain dwarves stirred, each one flowing toward an inert golem. Dainn recognized the danger straightaway, and he waved his staff, aiming a bar of black fire at the nearest cloud.

It never reached its target.

For the king had never really left.

Instead, his soul – Zeke could feel its signature, so there could be no mistake – had been transferred to the huge statue at the center of the square. The enormous golem’s hand moved like lightning, blocking the pitiful-looking black flames. But the moment they hit the huge statue’s bronze skin, Zeke felt the power of the king’s soul wane.

Meanwhile, Dainn screamed for his army to attack.

But they were too late. Each of the clouds – the disembodied souls of the dwarves, Zeke suspected – moved with untethered rapidity, flooding into the inert golems. In only a second, the army of nearly indestructible statues came back to life and advanced on the stone dwarves once again.

This time, though, they were powered by the souls of the defeated dwarves. The king’s soul was potent, but splitting his energy between dozens of statues had still diluted his power. The intact souls of his subordinates had no such issues, so they wouldn’t run out of energy anytime soon. Especially given that Zeke had fought against those same golems, what he suspected was hundreds of years later.

Even as the golems began their inexorable slaughter, the king – in his own, much larger golem – continued to battle against his brother. In a lot of ways, it was far more boring than what Zeke saw from the lesser soldiers and golems. Dainn’s actions were limited to pointing his staff at the huge statue, aiming a powerful black flame at his brother’s vessel. Meanwhile, the king’s golem reached for Dainn, each inch forward contested by the robed dwarf’s skill.

But as slowly as that hand moved, slowed as it was by the black flame, it still crept ever closer with every passing second. In a lot of ways, it felt appropriate. The king’s power didn’t feel sudden. His aura wasn’t forceful – not like Zeke’s own. Instead, its dominance lay in its inevitability.

Dainn screamed until he was hoarse, pumping more and more mana into the skill. Maybe he could have escaped, but Zeke doubted it. After all, he’d seen how quickly the giant statue could move if it did so unimpeded. The second Dainn let up, he would be crushed. So, he pushed ever more power into the skill, clearly hoping that he could overwhelm his brother’s spirit.

And his efforts weren’t wasted.

For every passing second, the king’s aura dimmed. At first, it wasn’t that noticeable, but as that hand drew inexorably closer, it had dissipated substantially. And by the time the golem’s fingers finally closed around the dwarven warlock, Zeke could feel that the king was only holding on by a thread.

But a thread of the king’s powerful soul was enough to crush his brother’s body in his golem’s bronze fist.

Zeke was so engrossed in the battle that he didn’t even notice that the other golems had finished with the dwarven army.

The king’s golem turned to where Zeke stood and said, “Now, you see…”