The Gamer Chapter 1686 – Chase for the Cure 4 – Death. (Patreon)

Of all the entities that he would run into, John had assumed that he would have had at least a degree of resistance against the appearance of the god of the fear of death. Media was saturated with this form of death.

Yet, he felt dread at the sight of it.

The Grim Reaper was little to look at. A black robe covered a shape of uncertain dimensions. The tattered cloth moved in constant, soft waves, like the surface of a deep and dark ocean. Cloth whispered. Wide sleeves revealed a simple skeletal hand, holding the gnarled, wooden shaft of the scythe. The curved blade seemed to be made from simple iron. The raised hood of the robe put the entity’s face into complete darkness. Here and there, swirls of black or pale green mist swirled in the black or escaped from gaps in the cloth.

“Lord!” Glory sunk to the ground faster than the collapsing body of the ant. The Grim Reaper held the enormous head of the monster by the mandible. He raised it high to inspect it. The embodiment of humanity’s dread only stood at average male height and yet seemed gargantuan to John’s perception.

He did not dare even try Observe.

“You did not need to come here yourself!” Zelos continued. “We had things under control.”

“You did not.” The Grim Reaper’s voice was calm and quiet, like a foggy breeze drifting over a graveyard. “Arise.” The body of the ant creature quivered, necrotic energies surrounding it, then dispersing into the nearby air. “The god of sacrifice holds his grip. Pity. This one could have settled the debt.”

“It was a valiant foe… but we had it under control!” Glory insisted.

“It, yes, not her.” The shadow-covered head turned.

“Glad to be acknowledged.” Metra stepped forwards, holding in her head a shrivelled-up head.

“This is…” Famine coughed as he dangled from the sorry remains of his hair. “Rather awkward.”

“It is expected.” The Grim Reaper pointed past Metra. Bone and scrapes of dry flesh flew past her, rapidly reconstructing the headless body of the Horseman.

“Let me… go… you gorilla woman…!” Famine wheezed. The head was getting pulled as well, but Metra held on.

John finally found his voice again. “Do what he asks,” he ordered and the Breaker of Armies let go. She could not hold onto that anyhow, best not to unnecessarily antagonize their enemy further.

“Urgh, still feels loose,” Famine complained, rolling his neck.

“Stop standing there, you lethargic buffoon,” Glory hissed and tugged at his fellow Horseman’s arm.

“Right,” Famine groaned and knelt down. The space between him and Glory was taken by War, who positioned himself next to the radiant member of the trio.

The undead around all knelt as well, even those right next to the ants. The monsters were frozen in terror, unable or unwilling to move in the presence of the Grim Reaper. With a loud ‘thud’ the head of the Gluttony Emissary dropped next to the rest of the corpse.

“You hear me, Huitzilopochtli.” The Grim Reaper gazed at nothing and everything around. “Feast yourself on the souls you have staked. I always get my due, in time.”

John shivered when the empty attention turned to him. “Is this the part where you aim to humble me?” the Gamer asked, summoning the confidence of his pride.

“Yes.” Absolute was the answer of the god of the fear of death. His raised finger wandered to Lorelei. “I will take her.”

‘Ehtra!’

The grey angel swooped in and grabbed Lorelei, carrying the seer towards the edge of the barrier. War and Glory began to rise, but stopped in their tracks. A raised hand by the Grim Reaper was all it took. “I do not blame you for this. All try to outrun death.”

“Let me guide you to the afterlife,” Metra growled, raising Rex Magnar.

“Akkadians…” Disdain entered the god’s voice. “Your war cry. Your army of clay. Your insolence. Your humbling is long overdue.”

If there was a chance to get out of this, it was in the Grim Reaper’s certainty of victory. The barrier was outside their control, but if they could smash through the outer perimeter, they could get a physical exit.

John and Momo stood where they were, one of them in a disposable body, the other capable of making an emergency exit. Neither of them had the power to stop this god. There was only one way to buy them time.

“Terrible mother chaos.” Metra’s chant began. Soil around her warped. Bones, armour and chitin clattered. The Grim Reaper stood, unmoved. “Fallen, broken, twisted you are, and I still carry all your wrath.” Still, the god remained motionless. The world around them began to twist. “To your nature I deliver, this loathsome sinner…” The First of Wrath assumed a stance, ready to charge. “…I’ll drag him down to hell!”

The Entropy Arena formed in full around them. Dimensions all around became twisted. Limits and angles that were previously absolute were made subjects to the chaotic energies swirling all around them. Metra launched herself with enough physical force to crack and compact the earth for dozens of metres behind her.

Rex Magnar swung in an arc of lightning and plasma.

The Grim Reaper raised a hand. A wall of bone tore itself from the ground, like a barrier made out of a gargantuan rib. Rex Magnar slammed into it, cutting through, and was about to connect with the embodiment of death when the entire world around them shattered.

The emerald glow of Metra’s eyes inside her helmet was extinguished. The forms of the world violently returned to their original point, creating turbulence that tossed the lesser entities in the barrier around like pieces of sawdust in the wind. The Grim Reaper tilted his head back. Rex Magnar flew past him.

Metra lost control of the weapon. Screeching in confused notes, the tip of the halberd glassed the surrounding dirt from the excess heat. The First of Wrath collapsed onto all fours. The segments of her helmet opened up, revealing her panting and heaving. Her mouth closed hard, failing to hold back the viscous liquid of exhausted mana she vomited.

“You are strong, warrior, but you cannot make yourself equal to death.” The Grim Reaper casually walked forwards, past the Breaker of Armies. She tried to fight herself to her feet, but the backlash of magic from the shattered Entropy Arena had her fully immobilized.

The Creator Puppet was willed into action. Like a heartbeat, Inkaryl extended, then collapsed. Fire enveloped the mace and the body of the golem.

A swiping gesture by the Grim Reaper created a pillar of fused skeletons. It slammed into the chest of the golem, pushing him backwards and grabbing it with a myriad of limbs. John tore at them, raged against the grip, but there was always another arm clamping down on him. He would be free eventually, but eventually was not fast enough.

One step delivered the Grim Reaper to the edge of the Illusion Barrier. Ehtra whirled around, leaving Lorelei to widen the existent cracks. Gun raised, the grey angel pulled the trigger. Once, twice, thrice, each of the explosions ripping holes into the dark form of the god. They closed a second later. Fleshless fingers grabbed the firearm and pulled it out of Ehtra’s hand.

“There is no vengeance to take on me.”

The statement made the First of Hatred hesitate for a moment. “I’m John Newman’s servant first,” Ehtra growled then stabbed the god. The sword was deflected by another giant rib that emerged from the dirt.

“Akkadians…” The hollow whisper was followed by several more ribs rising and forming a cage around the grey angel. One simple touch pulled Lorelei away from the edge of the barrier. More hovering than walking, the Grim Reaper dragged the struggling seer along.

The instinctive dread John felt was now complete. Metra still struggled to move, Ehtra and himself were immobilized, all three of them only capable of watching while War and Glory placed a blood-marked stone on the floor. Lorelei was bent over it and held in place by the two Horsemen.

Scythe to her throat, the Grim Reaper presented a simple question, “Do you fear death?”

Lorelei’s eyes were closed, her face and body turning lax. “The Lady may decide if this is my time.”

The crude iron scythe drew the first drops of blood from the seer’s throat. Then, the Grim Reaper suddenly stopped. “You smell of rat and fairy.” The god’s head slowly turned. “A combination that I loathe.”

“I thought I had washed out the rat part by now…” Momo grumbled.

“…I told you… I was loose…” Famine complained, his detached head between Momo’s hands.

John did not even know how she had done that, but the fairy had somehow succeeded at getting them leverage. Glory whirled around. Momo was too smart to wait until someone moved before stuffing the head of the Horseman into her inventory. Undead were, after all, closer to flesh golems than the kind of sapient being they could not store.

“Stop.”

Glory’s lance stopped just short of Momo’s throat. “Milord, spatial magic does-“

“She has an out. Fairies…” The resentment the Grim Reaper had for them was even more evident than for Akkadians. “Since the day the first of you awoke, you have plagued me. Creatures of noise, whimsy, and a disrespect for consequences.” A trickle of Lorelei’s blood ran down the curved blade of the scythe. Both it and the seer remained perfectly still.

“How about a deal?”

The Grim Reaper suddenly snapped around. Bones cracked under the robe. The scythe hovered in place, while the god grabbed Momo by the throat, bowed over her and wailed. The king of all wraiths wailed and the complexion of the fairy maid turned a sickly pale. Her legs quivered. Tears of terror formed in the corners of her eyes.

But she remained standing.

One last smash finally allowed John to free himself of his confinement. Every fibre of his being wanted to charge in, to protect his woman, but there was no attacking the Grim Reaper without risking Lorelei’s head. Ehtra, who had also managed to free herself, observed the situation from above.

John grit his teeth and did the one thing he knew the Grim Reaper wanted him to do. He hated doing it, but he hated the uncertainty of this situation more. Opening his hand, the Gamer let Inkaryl fall to the ground. The Creator Puppet changed to show his face. “You win.”

“This time.” Two words, finishing the sentence that the Gamer had only thought to its end. “What deal do you suggest?”

“I… I—i-“ Momo stammered, at the edge of hyperventilation. The terror in her white eyes was as complete as the darkness of the god’s hood that reflected in them. “I give you… I give Fa-famine b-back and… y-you let us go?”

“No.” The ground to Momo’s feet turned into a mess of maggots and other carrion eating insects. “Another suggestion.”

Momo’s mouth opened and closed. John grit his teeth. He felt helpless and he did not know what else to suggest. “If I may…” Lorelei raised her voice, despite the blade on the throat, “…an exchange of hostages?”

“Rel…” John spoke up. He hated this.

“That is acceptable.” The Grim Reaper turned back to the seer. Behind him, Momo collapsed to her knees, shivering head to toe. “The word of the Order, I am willing to trust.” He took the scythe and pulled it away without drawing any further blood. “You will be healed in the Necropolis.”

“I haven’t agreed to this,” the Gamer growled.

The Grim Reaper delivered the worst of slights. He ignored him. With a wave of his hand, the deity bound the arms of the seer in bone and shadow. “You would not have to suffer this, had you simply obeyed my Lord’s orders,” Glory stated smugly.

All that John could have said in response would have been impotent ranting. Lorelei was behind two riders and right next to a god none of them had any chance at beating with the present forces. If Undine was there, perhaps they could have risked an attack that left the seer badly wounded. Undine was not there. Unless they managed to leave the barrier immediately, any mortal wound would spell the end of the afflicted.

“Fret not, beloved Gamer,” Lorelei said. “This is the path of the Lady’s light.”

“Interesting.” The Grim Reaper took hold of the seer, then left the Illusion Barrier. One by one, the rest of his forces followed, emptying half of the battlefield.

The quiet that followed was short-lived. John never got to enjoy it. The gnashing of his teeth was loud in his ears. Lost. He had overextended and lost. ‘Goddammit, Lorelei, I do not have your faith!’ he raged in his mind. ‘I trust you. I trust you with all I have but this hurts!’

Skittering dragged him out of his misery. By pure instinct, he grabbed Inkaryl and caved the head in of the first ant that remained in the barrier with them. There were hundreds of them, thousands potentially, ranging from level 20 all the way to 100. None of them feared him as much as they had the Grim Reaper.

Ehtra skewered another ant on her descent. Roaring wordless contempt, she carved through the charging monstrosities. One slipped by her and John, making it to Metra. The First of Wrath smashed its head into the ground, using it to push herself up.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” John hissed at the monsters.

Violence followed.