16. Nether’s torch (1)

We’ve finished descending the stairs and reached the entrance to the final door between me and the huge underground corridor lined with jail cells.

So much commotion inside. They must’ve felt Dren’s aura and started preparing us a nice welcome. Wonderful. I wanted to fill my stomach before facing Mal.

Well, that was assuming that he has come to start his interrogation already. The timeline roughly lined up, but he might only arrive in the evening, if luck is on our side.

I cracked my knuckles and, with a huge smile, pushed the door open.

My hands shook in anticipation. Sustaining voracity within the eyes for this long really drives a man mad.

The view that greeted me, however, was not the same dark, damp basement layer I expected to see.

Instead, every torch lining the walls -normally not lit up unless someone was over to bring the prisoners rations - was swirling with ferocious flames.

Unnaturally strong flame burning on those. So, it’s come to this.

I scanned the surroundings and finally laid my eyes on the culprit.

A familiar face, donning a black, red-lined mantle. A build equally as slim as mine, but a solid hand’s length taller.

And Nether’s royal bloodline trademark glowing red eyes.

This fucker’s reached Exalted level, hasn’t he?

Even first tier fighters can’t express their flames through the eyes. So, he’s two levels below Dren.

Or two above mine.

Surpassing first tier at his age is absolutely ridiculous.

“Hey, Nether’s eldest. What could someone of your level be doing all the way here?”

I waived my hand in greeting, noting his position next to Nyra’s cell.

Upon further inspection, Nyra seemed unharmed. He’d simply knocked her out before we came over.

“It hasn’t been that long since I’ve told you my name, though? Surely you haven’t already forgotten? Because, I sure as hell remembered you, Ori.”

So he figured it out.

Well, that makes sense. In my current state, nobody could mistake me for anything but a threadripper. Even if I covered my eyes back when we met at the pub, it shouldn’t be hard to put two and two together.

“Oh, haha. So you’ve realized. Well then, my dearest friend Mal. I’d appreciate if you let me off the hook for breaking a rule or two and getting into here. I just need to grab this girl lying next to you, and I’ll dip cleanly.”

I heard more metallic clangs and the sounds of leather rubbing on itself.

The armed soldiers tasked with guarding the jail were surrounding us - that is, me and Lyrael.

The eleven healers stayed behind in the stairwell. That was necessary for the upcoming ‘meat grinder’ event.

At the same time, my shadow grew unnaturally dark.

Good. They’re ready.

“Oh, unfortunately I can’t let you do that. You see, I’ve been tasked with questioning her, so having her taken away would put me in a difficult position.”

I grabbed onto my stomach and let out a hearty laugh, prompting confused reactions from the Stone Cauldron warriors surrounding us.

“Ahahahaha. Hah. Haaa. Man, you’re as great at reading the room as I remembered. Just like when you allowed yourself to my table despite my overly displeased expression - had to force that one with a good amount of effort, by the way.”

In response, Malrik also smiled.

”Same goes for you, Ori. Even knowing I’m of royal blood, you insult me so freely. How nostalgic.”

I waved my hand in the air dismissively. At the same time, the warriors tightened their grips on their swords.

”Ha, alright, alright. Let’s drop this farce now. How can one be nostalgic for something that happened two days ago?”

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”You’re right. I guess I don’t have much to say now, either. Shall we begin?”

”Yea, let’s begins.”

I channeled some essence into my black mantle, unraveling it halfway across my body, diagonally. The spare fabric snaked down my legs and wrapped my feet, up to the shins, into elastic, one piece boots.

Now, the right side of my upper body and my entire right arm were exposed, leaving only a tall collar, the left arm, and everything below the waist covered.

The metal sheen of skintight metal plates swirling around my body glimmered in the torchlight.

The same metal enveloped my teeth, growing into unnaturally long, silver fangs.

Mal had a melancholic expression on his face.

”Damn... I still hoped you might be human, if at least partially, but looking at your current form - you’re a disgusting monster, through and through. Prepare to die.”

”I was born like this, you pile of kindling. What could I do, when there’s a damsel in distress waiting to be rescued? Tsk, bring it on. Lyrael!”

Without waiting for a response, I lunged at the six Stone Cauldron warriors. At the same time, Lyrael, who’s been silent, let out a shout.

”Haaah!!”

She clenched her extended fist shut. The floor and ceiling surrounding Malrik rumbled, and then started rapidly closing in.

Her job here was to simply suppress him for a while. Sure, her level was way lower than his, but the stone from within this prison is very sturdy. It’ll take him a decent amount of energy and time to melt his way out.

She was in her element.

Same goes for me.

The ceiling is too low for aerial combat, so I’ll have dive into the fray directly.

Come on at me, goons!

I dove under the blade aimed at my chest, and leaped atop the closest man to me, wrapping my legs around his neck. Two more swords swiftly closed in from the right and left, and a third flew straight at my neck.

I held out my left arm and caught the blade with my steel clawed fingers. The sword from the right went straight through my palm, penetrating deep into my forearm.

I clenched the muscles in my torn arm, locking the sword in place.

The third attack aiming at the neck was simply caught with my teeth.

I channeled essence through my whole body, forcibly turning two of the swords into sliver thread. The third sword, lodged in my arm, was assimilated into it, fusing flesh and steel into an arm blade.

The three attackers reeled back, leaving the fourth warrior, who was already taking second swing, alone with me.

“Annoying bastard. Get! Rid! Of that stone form!”

*Clang! Clang! Shriiiick!*

I couldn’t choke him out as he’d reinforced his neck, and instead jumped off him, taking three massive swipes, twice with claws - both of which he blocked - and the final one with the bladed arm.

He controlled the stone for with finesse, but ultimately failed to reinforce his ribcage in time to stop the final attack.

*Thud!*

His lifeless body fell to the ground, a gaping hole where the heart should’ve been.

Let’s not be wasteful. I’ll put your body to good use.

I clawed at his now soft flesh, and his armor, assimilating it into my form.

At the same time, my left arm unraveled.

The unimaginable pain from doing so blurred my vision, but I pushed on, giving it a new, even more grotesque form.

Retreating from a few more attacks with a backwards leap, I concentrated on finishing up the new form I’d been practicing.

”Friends! You’re in luck. Not a single person has witnessed this technique from me before.”

The mass of unbundled flesh threat swirled into the shape of an arm, but compressed over and over.

I’ve tried doing this before, but never had enough sustenance to go all out. But, goddamn, this new compressed arm’s heavy as shit. How did the elder walk around with it all day?

I thought back to the form our threadripper’s elder always kept up.

I can only do this with one arm, though. Manipulating my whole body is way above my level for now.

Regardless, the remaining men felt the overwhelming pressure.

”Recoup! Target the girl!”

They quickly realized they couldn’t defeat me on their own, and closed in on Lyrael.

“Shit, no. Wait up, I’m not ready yet!”

I shouted out in panic, which gave them a bit more confidence.

Not wasting any more time, all of them attacked her at once.

”Hah… You naive fucking idiots.”

I swung my arm through the air horizontally.

They were several meters away from me, though. Out of reach. However-

*Boom!*

Releasing the compression I’d built up, my arm stretched forward so fast that a wave of air burst out.

*Slice! Squelch!*

And, following the arc of my swing, sliced straight through the remaining five men.

Just like that, five bodies toppled over in fountains of blood, severed effortlessly in half.

Well, ‘effortlessly’ was just a way to describe how it looked.

In truth, it took all I had to mimic even a fraction of our elder’s power.

Either way, the results spoke for themselves. They put up no resistance this time.

The now slack, ridiculously long appendage lay on the floor. The warriors’ vitality flowed through it, mingling with my already large - for a second tier fighter - essence reserves.

The arm was lined in spikes made from the metal I pillaged off the first man I killed, resembling a chain; or perhaps a deformed, inhuman spine.

With a tug, I reeled it back in, once again compressing it into the shape of an arm, if a little unstable. And skinless, of course.

Weaving human skin to look natural is only something the best of the best could do. I, of course, don’t qualify. Even if I do enjoy hyping myself up in front of others.

In the next moment I felt another rumble - along with a wave of heat - emit from Malrik’s stone sarcophagus.

Lyrael’s breathing was rough, indicating that her essence was on the verge of exhaustion.

“Shit, Ori. Why’s this guy so strong?”

“Eh, you know how it is. The final boss fight before the epic princess rescue has to be bombastic, or it would feel anticlimactic.”

“True that.”

Even speaking was a strain for her at this point.

But, she’d held him in for long enough now. I was in my prime, plus the hidden trump card was ready. All the preparations were complete.

“Release him now, and rest up. I’ll do the rest.”

Finally, Mal’s enclosure crumbled, and with it a suffocating heat filled the cool basement.

A cold sweat dripped down my forehead despite the warmth, simply due to the overwhelming pressure radiating from him.

This is gonna be a tough fight, ain’t it? Might die.

I smiled wickedly.

“Oh, well. Let’s do this.”