The battle was deemed lost.
The battle had been going on for several days, but it seemed that nothing could stop the monster; at best, the troops only merely managed to prevent its spawn from causing further destruction. Though hard to kill, these at least could be defeated; the same was apparently not true for the apocalypse giant.
Now, the battle was coming to a close.
Unlike the beasts, which kept coming in an endless, nearly unstoppable stream, the troops fighting for their world were running out. Most of them were either dead, agonizing on the ground, or worse. As it turns out, the beasts were dangerous in and out of themselves, but were the giant even to look at you, and you would be gone. Not just dead, but truly, and permanently, gone. No one would remember you, and the last thing you would see are your comrades wondering why they are filled with a sense of dread, sadness and regret, all while looking at an empty spot.
But now, there was one last hope. One of the sorcerers had found a spell with the potential power to end the giant itself. In one sweep motion, the battle would end, and the soldiers from everywhere could rejoice in their victory.
Though things weren't that simple.
See, while the spell had the potential to kill the giant, it was really just a simple spell, designed to slightly twist fate to get rid of a nuisance; yes, it was a dark spell in nature, with the sole intent of causing death, and its accessibility and simplicity made it quite valuable; but by itself, the spell was nowhere near enough to get rid of anything bigger than a caravan, let alone apocalypse personified.
But the sorcerer knew that there was more to it, and decided to look deep into the spell. But that work takes time, and in this war, this was a luxury that very few could afford. Yet, this sorcerer, with all their determination, instilled hope in the hearts of everyone. And thus, while the battle was raging, a group of people from various races and places were gathered around a simple tent, trying their best to slay any monstrous beast that came close, knowing that they were defending what could be the turning point of this battle.
However, slowly, their numbers began to thin out. Even with their heart filled to the brim with hope, the sheer number of monsters was too much for them to handle; and by the time the sorcerer finished their research, there was no one left around the tent.
But it wasn't for nothing.
The sorcerer, after passing all this time studying this spell, realized something quite simple: death begets death. While this turns out to be quite true in mundane situations, they realized that this was a law that was much more fundamental than that. Death is never alone. It's a force that has been going on since the beginning of Life, and the best way to make it even more powerful is to call it into action.
The spell he was studying worked exactly the same way.
By itself, it required its user to use their power on twisting fate itself to achieve their dark goals; however no wizard could ever hope to have the magic power necessary to change fate on a scale larger than themselves. But by catalyzing another death, the wielder could potentially make full use of the power of Death itself, and could make changes to destiny large enough to kill anything their heart desired.
And right now, the sorcerer's heart desired only one thing: to make sure that all these people that died around this tent had not died in vain.
They fully knew that they could not ask help from anyone anymore, and that the catalyst of the spell had to be the death of someone close enough that the event could be used to power the spell. They knew what they had to do. But no fear was present; if they had to die, it would be in this battle, and no other death would prove more honorable.
And so, brandishing both a staff and a knife, the mage cast the spell, ending their own life.
Amidst the the battlefield, this was nothing more than another soldier falling to the enemy. The only one who was close enough to see it only saw a flash of dark light, then the wizard lying bloody on the ground. And that was it.
The beasts were still flowing endlessly, and there was nothing more than a few dozen soldiers left. These people never trained for the war; they were merely defending their right to live, for them and everyone they knew. They had few regrets; everyone knew that fighting the horror meant dying to it, but they still charged in with the hope of making a difference.
Now, they were all gathered together, surrounded from all sides. Before leaving this world, one of them decided to defiantly look at the giant, something said to cause insanity in a fraction of a second. But what they saw wasn't their demise; it was something that caused them to urge everyone to look at the monster.
The giant was not moving anymore. While just a few seconds ago it was sweeping its deadly glare all over the battlefield, its horrendous tendrils chaotically moving, killing or transforming everything in their path, now it was absolutely still. It no longer looked like a general leading their army, but now resembled a living statue that was trying it's best to pretend that it was alive.
Now, everyone on the battlefield had turned their head towards it. Even the beasts stopped dead in their tracks, seemingly waiting, as if something horrible was about to happen. For a moment, there was no movement anywhere, no sound but the nervous beating of the human's heart and the pulsation of the beasts' flesh. The entire scene stood frozen, as in a painting of a gruesome battle.
Then it happened. The sky itself seemed to tear around the giant, overflowing with such energy that it was impossible to see what was beyond the opening. The crack in the sky continued to grow, eventually completely surrounding the immobile horror.
Then it fell. With a deafening roar that could be heard by everyone, no matter the distance, the giant descended into the crack in the sky, its tendrils frantically trying to grab hold of anything to stop itself from sinking into the unknown. The innumerable beasts all left the battlefield, rushing toward their master to try and help them; only to helplessly fall along, one by one.
After a few minutes that felt like hours, the last tendril of the giant slipped in the opening, which then closed itself off, leaving nothing but the eerie emptiness taking the place of the monster. The remaining soldiers, slowly realizing what had just happened, started raising their arms in the air, shouting the powerful cry of victory. They all rejoiced, the news spreading everywhere that the giant had finally fallen, and that peace had taken its place. Slowly, the world began rebuilding, healing itself of the wound the monsters had left.
A monument was built in honor of all those who had died, ultimately saving the world. It was missing many names, for several of the deceased had been wiped from existence, killed even in the memory of others. But there was one name at the top, written in gold, that nobody could miss. The name of a wizard who grew as a dark mage, even as far as to be rejected by their own, but who decided to use their magic to rid the world of danger, at the cost of their own life. The mage's name stood as proof that no matter who you are, no matter the choices you made in life, you can always be of help to the others.
Life resumed its course, the battle being engraved in stories and legends, and the people all celebrated the day where the battle ended, the day where Life banded together to get rid of its enemy.
And with that, Ulamog was no more.
[link] [comments]
from Short Stories
No comments:
Post a Comment