Chapter 33 (Patreon)

1

The miles flew by as Brad reveled in something he had not felt in many, many years. Freedom. Trapped inside Cecily’s palace for so long, the warm sun felt amazing. He put the cigar up to his lips and took a draw of the sweet, intoxicating smoke, feeling it circle in his lungs before he breathed it out. Now that he was free…he just wanted to live. Get somewhere far away from Cecily and keep to himself. Grow some herbs, sell medicine on the side. An easy life. A good life.

Why am I even riding North to the Valley? That place is fucking cursed. He took another draw as his mount trotted along the grassy plains. If Lyn was alive, and that letter was the real deal like Volio seemed to think it was…fuck, he would be in the best place possible working for her. She had some vision for Ghomar, and if he could just have his nice pharmaceutical company in the place where she was strongest…it would be one hell of a deterrent to Cecily sending people after him.

Days passed as he ventured near Fort Watch; a checkpoint spaced a few miles from the Valley’s entrance. He could see an enormous wall that was not present at the mouth of the Valley previously. I wonder who did that? A group of men rode up – he saw them coming from a few miles away. He had a vial in his hand, ready to gulp it down and become invisible. They rode closer and hailed him. “What’s your business?” The one in the lead asked.

Brad waved politely with his free hand, “I’m just a traveler. Who are you lot?”

“Kory’s Killers. Out of Fort Watch.”

Oh fuck, that’s right. He has a mercenary company. “I know Kory! I’m the Alchemist hero, Brad Ghulara!”

The men exchanged glances and kept their distance, hands hovering near weapons but not making hostile movement or action. “Right, and I’m the fucking Paragon.”

Brad chuckled, “Well, believe me or not, I’m just passing through your lands.”

The lead mercenary rode slightly closer, hand on the saddle horn, “Passing through to where?”

“To some place called Lynhold. Ever heard of it?”

The man’s face was unreadable, and he shook his head. “Can’t say I have. Where is it?”

Brad shrugged noncommittally, “Somewhere North.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, “Into the Valley of the Volcano?”

“I don’t know. I’m just following the path laid out before me.” Brad took out another cigar of the herbs he had gathered on the way. “Are you a smoker?” he asked the lead mercenary. The man shook his head, and Brad used a simple spell to light the item, drawing in some smoke before breathing it up into the sky. The swirls above him were always different in hue and shape, and they were entrancing in their own way.

“That type of shit, that’s bad for you,” one of the mercenaries further back shouted. A young-looking one.

Brad laughed, “My stuff is different. Non-harmful.” He held up the cigar, “This is filled with Petalbloom and an admixture of Gobarlin and Neuvronaxicil. One of these? It will cure most respiratory illnesses.” The man’s face was quizzical, and Brad clarified, “If you have a bad cough this will cure it.” Plus, pneumonia and bronchitis. He chuckled, never thinking that he would go from pothead to pioneer of herbal medicine and remedies. Even if this thing did give a minor high, which it absolutely did, it was not addictive and was a curative. If I could bring this shit back to Earth, I’d be a goddamn legend.

The mercenary leader nodded, “You’re a healer?”

“Of sorts.”

“Mind coming with us to Fort Watch? We’ll pay you for your services. We have some lads who are in pretty rough shape. Duskari patrols have been roaming more frequently.”

Brad smiled, “If you pay well…lead the way.”

2

Lyn held her spear-form Cataclysm as she went through the hallway, entering the next chamber. She placed her hand on the pedestal, and it dropped. Once more, the world fell away from her. She was standing on a stone platform, floating in space, and an enormous, two-faced statue floated before her. It appeared to be human but shifted slowly between the various races. One side was white, the other black. But the eyes were the same…deep blue, like her own eyes. One flickered with flames, the other sparkled with starlight.

The voice that came out was androgynous. “You seek the mantle of Destroyer. Answer these questions and pass this test.”

“Uhm, okay. Ask away.”

The face shifted so that the white half consumed the darker half. “What is the purpose of the Destroyer?”

Lyn thought about what she had learned from the Duskari. They probably received Raevan’s teachings directly and passed them down through history. So, their version is the more accurate one. “Raevan the Destroyer was one half of a deity. Her job was to destroy what Aelor found fit to destroy.”

The face nodded and shifted to the half-and-half view. “What is the purpose of the heroes?”

Fuck if I know. Outside of fighting the Demonic Dragon. She knew they were each one part of the creator deity, but that was about it. “To keep destruction held in check?” she answered hesitantly.

The face nodded, and Lyn breathed a sigh of relief as it shifted to be the full black face. “Who are you?”

“Lyn Rivers.”

“Who. Are. You?”

“The Destroyer.”

“Who. Are. You?”

The fuck do you want me to answer with? “The Scout hero?”

“Who. Are. You?”

Lyn was pissed off. “What the fuck do you want me to say? I’m a girl ripped out of my shitty life. I earned glory and had it stripped away from me. I was betrayed by my allies and lived. Now I’ve got this power and want to take over the world. Keep it from doing the fucked-up shit that my world had. Keep people from suffering inflicted by fucked-up bastards like my parents.”

The face shifted to the split once more. “Final question. Will you ascend?”

…What? What the hell was it talking about? “What do you mean by ascend?” No response. “Fine, yes. I will ascend.”

The face vanished, and the room returned around her. She walked through the open hallway. Fucking weird ass trial. The next chamber was plain. Austere. The pillar at the center was…round? That stopped Lyn right away in her tracks. She had been inside thirty-one dungeons including this one…and she had never encountered any shapes in the room except for squares. I should wait for my mana to refill.

3

James entered the King’s council chambers. “Your highness, you wished to see me?”

The King nodded and gestured for James to sit in his usual spot. James did so, and the King snapped his fingers as a servant brought over drink and food. None of the other counselors were present. “High-Lord James Marshall. The Paragon hero. You have served Khrelardia well.”

James nodded and grabbed one of the cups, “You are gracious, your highness. I live to serve.” He took a sip of the liquid.

The King grinned, “Yes, and that is appreciated. But I need more from you.”

James’ sight went fuzzy. Did he…drug me?

“I need you to die.”

James felt his tongue go numb and heard the shlick of a weapon being drawn. "En ethiel an le / thalion min / an adhano na nin ir / glanno nin rhaw." He was able to slur it out, and his body felt rejuvenated as the bright, white mana core in his chest surged to respond to his need. He shoved his chair back into the man who was approaching from behind, and wheeled around, drawing Aelor’An’Alar. “What is this?!”

King Kristoph was already out of his seat and across the room as more of the royal guards entered. Men Kristoph alone had chosen and who he trusted more than any others. “High-Lord James, I sentence you to death.”

James felt his Paragon core surge within. A bright, white-hot light that guided his path. The unique trait of the Paragon – the ability to instantly recognize the just and righteous course of action. “Kristoph…I declare you…a traitor to the people of Khrelardia.” He closed his eyes for a moment and listened to the whispers from his mana core – the only one that spoke to its wielder. The voice of Aelor speaking directly to him. “You…seek to ally with Valagonia…” his eyes snapped open as the guards descended, “Traitor!” James’ blade exploded with radiant, white light that blinded the guards. "Anno nin i gwelu en-galad."

In that flash, that single instant, he moved over the table and grabbed King Kristoph by the back of the neck, running outside and to the town square – all within a few seconds. The internal spell was one unique to the Paragon, the ability to move at the speed of light for a short time, whilst preventing momentum from affecting the user or what they are carrying. None except Thomas and Lyn knew that James had this unique spell at his disposal. She had even watched him use it a few times while developing some spell she was working on.

King Kristoph blinked several times, “What?” He was seemingly in shock.

James growled, “Traitor!” he yelled. Every person around him stopped to look. The city guards ran over but stayed a respectable distance. “He’s going to sell us out to Valagonia!” he shouted, making eye contact with a group of Foskor – the bear folk. “She’ll kill all of you! Every non-Human!” James threw the King down to the ground and heard the tramp of boots from the palace. “Soldiers! To me!”

The guards ran over and took up a defensive position as James had commanded. Glancing back, he saw Kristoph begin to pull out what he assumed was an inscribed item, and he swiftly kicked the man in the face – sending him reeling and in the grip of a concussion. He turned back to the approaching royal guards and yelled a battle cry, carving through their armor and weapons like butter despite their mana charged weaponry and internal spells. Within seconds, he had obliterated the whole group of them, and was breathing with little effort, taking in cool, calm breaths. His actions were righteous, the core within him with the whispers of the creator deity assured him of that.

He looked back to the King, and the guards, “Sieze him. The people will decide his fate. Those he would seek to kill in this unholy alliance.”

4

Lyn made sure her internal spells were all active, held Cataclysm in its spear form, and pressed her palm to the square. It depressed to the floor and the room fell away once more. But this room was familiar. Extremely familiar.

It was her bedroom back on Earth.

Her mother came in and screamed at her, “You fucking bitch! You broke the dishes!”

Instantly, Lyn stabbed the woman through the throat. Blood sprayed onto her face, and letting out a scream of rage, Lyn stabbed repeatedly. “You bitch!” Stab. “You let him beat us!” Stab. “You let him abuse me!” STAB. Over and over, she screamed as she vented her anger, the trauma she had held back, the pent-up rage until there was nothing in front of her but a bloody pincushion with no resemblance to her mother. If you had stood up to him…taken us away…fucking bitch.

She was huffing with exertion and heard the front door open. “Lyn! Get your ass out here!”

Gladly, Lyn thought with a manic glee, sprinting down the hallway and putting Cataclysm away. Her father was standing in the doorway, holding a case of beer. The horrible scent of cigarettes washed over her, and she laid him out with a single, running haymaker to the chin.

“You, ungratef-”

She didn’t let him speak a single. Damned. Word. First, she grabbed his jaw and twisted it so he couldn’t speak. It went crack before hanging limp. She heard him gurgle. “What’s the matter? Can’t talk?” She punched him in the eye, breaking the socket as the metal gauntlet and draconic claw pulverized his face. She was ready to just stab her claw right into his fucking brain. “Why can’t you talk? Come on, say something!” she mocked him with the very words he had used against her when he had broken her jaw at seven years old.

His eyes were beginning to roll back into his head. “No,” she muttered. “You don’t get off that easily!” She threw him onto the couch and walked over to him. Being upright and jostled seemed to shake him back to consciousness. “How do I look dad? Your little girl? All grown up? The one you couldn’t keep your fucking hands off?!” She grabbed his wrist and snapped it. His whimpers were a symphony to her ears. “Let’s see you grab me now!”

She reached up to his ears and ripped those off, reveling in the pain she was finally able to inflict on the man who had made her life a living hell. His gurgling of trying to speak brought her such joy. Finally, finally. This fucking rapist would pay for the hell he put Lyn through. She used her claws and stabbed into his privates, ripped them away, and shoved them down his own throat. “How does it taste?” she screamed at him as he choked on his own manhood. “Remember asking me that when I was eleven?!” She screamed and punched him in the gut, bursting his stomach open from the force of her punch.

The look in his eyes, the sheer fear and pleading. It disgusted Lyn. She ripped his throat out with her claw, dropping it in front of him before storming out of the building. “Burn it all!” she yelled as she let her mana vent through her body. Her mana channels flooded and instead of shaping the power with an external spell, she let it erupt. A cataclysmic flame that consumed her childhood, her youth, her past…everything that tied her to her life on Earth. The memories burned away. Ash on the wind.

A voice spoke. A deep, draconic voice. A familiar voice, coming from her chest. Her mana core, speaking to her. “Now…you are a Destroyer.” The voice laughed before fading forever. Lyn could remember those memories of the past, but they were faint echoes and whispers. Only enough remained that she knew what would need to be done to prevent it from happening ever again. But those haunting memories, even the ones from her time on Ghomar, were dulled. As if held within opaque glass jars that she could peer into if she chose but would never again come unbidden to her mind.

The mana core pulsed in time with her heartbeat. No longer boiling, bubbling, roiling. Even without Cataclysm in her hand, she had full control of it. If she was not wearing her armor, she knew she would have full control of it.

“I returned…”she whispered. I came back for glory, but I have a far greater purpose now. She raised her voice to a loud, confident tone; proclaiming to whoever was listening in that dungeon at the top of Shiverburn Summit. “I returned to ruin the evils of this world.”

She screamed at the top of her lungs. Her tone dropped but amplified to the draconic voice. A roar. A clarion call of a new apex predator, declaring its presence. A vow to the people of Ghomar. A declaration of her intent. The return of the power of a goddess of destruction, once more given form.

“I returned to rule this world!”

I’ll shape it how I want.

“No child will be abused!”

I’ll destroy their abusers.

“No person will go hungry!”

I’ll be benevolent.

“I will crush any who stand in my way!”

Burn the world.

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