Chapter 47: Ekkra

  After leaving the building where he and the other Demonbounds had been brought into the mortal realm, Ekkra felt the weight of the Princess’s orders still humming through the back of his mind.

  “Ekkra, I want you to observe the church. Churches are usually structured like well-planned organizations, especially this one, so they will probably use the upcoming turmoil to act. Honestly, they are the group that concerns me the most out of everyone here. Even if I do not see an immediate threat from them right now, I need to know what they are doing. They should also have a few holy artifacts. Find out what they are planning, and if they try to leave the town while I take over, learn how and why. Secure their artifacts if you can and report everything in detail later. Do you need a briefing about what a church is or…?”

  “No, my Princess. I know the human realm. I was here long ago. And as you wish, my Princess. Only one question. May I act at my own discretion?”

  “Oh, good. I suppose you should tell me about that when we have time…”

  For a moment she looked at him with a strange, measuring expression, as if she saw something in him that even he did not fully recognize.

  “About your question,” she continued. “I think I know a bit about how the church will handle this. Your vessel confirmed that their founder is somehow an old acquaintance of mine, and even when they appear weak, there is a high chance that there is far more behind them than what we can see now. But if needed, yes—you are free to use every force necessary to complete your mission. We need the information, and securing their artifacts will tell us much more. But do not overdo it, Ekkra. You are strong, but not strong enough to be careless. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, my Princess.”

  Ekkra had bowed and left immediately, and now he was leaping across the rooftops with long, silent strides. It had been a very long time since he last walked in the mortal realm in his own body. This vessel felt strange around him, like it was almost too soft, but he could feel the mortal soul inside it dissolving slowly into his own essence. He knew instinctively that he would take full control soon, that this body would become his true presence here. It was far more substantial than any summoning. It felt permanent, and that thought pleased him.

  He perched on the slanted roof of a merchant house and allowed himself a quiet whisper. “Finally, the mortal realm again. Ekkra is back, and I did not forget you… No, no, no…” His voice trailed off into a soft hiss as he scanned the skyline.

  There! He found the church tower.

  He jumped toward it, moving quickly across the rooftops. He had no real invisibility skill to rely on, only a weak version he rarely bothered using, but he did not need it. Ekkra understood perfectly how to slip through sight and sound. Humans never looked upward, and even if they had, he knew how to melt into the angles of the roofs like a shadow clinging to stone. No one noticed him as he crossed the tiles in silence toward the tall stone building.

  At the top he broke one of the narrow windows with a quiet crack and slipped through the jagged frame. He clung to the inner beams and looked down.

  The church was large, made with care, but it was not a place dedicated to any god he recognized. Maybe human faith had changed during the years he had been absent. He studied the carvings along the columns, traced the shapes of the ornaments, and narrowed his eyes at the mana leaking faintly from the altar. He tested the air with a low pulse of demonic sense, checking for wards, curses, or divine traps. There was nothing strong, only scattered specks of divinity lingering like dust, which was to be expected in a church.

  Just as he prepared to search for the priest or anyone else in charge, he saw movement. A young boy hurried across the nave, running toward one of the side chambers. Ekkra crawled backward into the shadows of the rafters and waited.

  A moment later the boy returned with a priest and two armored men following closely behind him. Ekkra’s eyes narrowed. Yes, yes, yes... Paladins! He knew their type. Their armor carried that familiar irritating shimmer of holy enforcement. Disgusting.

  They were unsettled, glancing around with tension in their steps. The Princess must have begun acting in the city. Ekkra watched as the priest rushed toward the altar, placed both hands upon it, and poured mana inside. The air rippled faintly. An artifact had been activated, some kind of rallying tool. Ekkra’s eyes glowed faintly with interest.

  After that, the group hurried outside.

  Ekkra climbed back up toward the roof window through which he had entered and settled in the shadows to watch from above. The priest had gathered a crowd below, pulling confused adventurers and faithful alike into a tight circle around him. Ekkra could still see the divine influence spilling from the altar, flowing in thin currents toward the priest even though he had already stepped outside. From the priest himself golden tendrils unfurled and clung to the people around him, a weak shimmering sheen that wrapped around their bodies like strings tugging at puppets. The priest was binding them through their minds, twisting their thoughts instead of their flesh. The sight disgusted Ekkra even more than the presence of the paladins.

  He watched them return to the church and wait behind the heavy doors, all ready to charge. His eyes remained fixed on the priest and the two paladins. He had found his targets. They would lead him to whatever the church was hiding, and they would help him complete his mission.

  Time passed, and eventually they stormed outside again. The Princess was already on the square with Thirra. Ekkra felt a childish pang of envy as he watched Thirra move to fight with her. He would have enjoyed fighting at her side as well, but he reminded himself of his mission and stayed still.

  At one point the paladins retreated back into the church, and for a moment Ekkra considered following them. He could already imagine the satisfaction of tearing into their sanctified armor and ending their irritating presence. But after a brief moment of thought he stayed where he was, eyes fixed on the priest instead.

  When the priest vanished into a shimmering cloak spell and hurried back inside the church, Ekkra watched the fading outline with mild amusement. The spell was weak, barely enough to blur the priest’s body if someone looked straight at him. Ekkra had no trouble following the man’s movements at all. He tracked him effortlessly, eyes fixed on the shifting ripple of mana, and slipped after him at a distance as the priest disappeared once more into the shadowed interior of the church.

  At first the priest hurried back to the altar, opened its hidden compartment, and grabbed something from inside. The moment his hands touched it, the steady stream of mana flowing through the altar cut off abruptly. Definitely an artifact. Ekkra felt the air shift as the divine pressure faded, and he followed the priest at a steady distance.

  The priest descended deeper into the catacombs, and Ekkra trailed a few yards behind him, silent and patient. The tunnel grew narrower and damp, just as Ekkra remembered human burrows to be. When the priest reached the half-collapsed chamber with the old grave in its center, he stopped before the thick stone slab carved with worn runes of devotion. Ekkra watched from the shadows as the man muttered a short incantation, and the ancient slab shifted aside with a low, grinding rumble. Beneath it lay a narrow ladder that vanished into darkness.

  The priest climbed down without hesitation, and when the slab slid back into place behind him and sealed the passage, Ekkra waited two full minutes in the still air of the chamber. Only then did he quietly repeat the same incantation to weaken the weight of the stone, push the slab aside once more, slip through the narrow opening, and descend the ladder in one fluid movement before stepping into the dark corridor beyond.

  Soon he heard voices echoing through the stone tunnel. The priest had met the two paladins. Ekkra stopped and listened. His enhanced hearing picked up every word. What they said confirmed exactly what the Princess had expected. The priest had taken everything of value and was planning to flee with the relics.

  He also learned something else. They were worshippers of a female deity, a goddess. Ekkra could not recall any such figure from the last time he had walked the mortal realm. A new god appearing while he was gone was unusual, and their devotion sounded almost fanatical. Their confident tone carried the same arrogance he remembered from the more rigid human orders, the kind who believed themselves superior simply because they followed stricter rules. Ekkra felt a cold satisfaction settle in his chest. These were the ones he enjoyed breaking the most.

  His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the area around them. It was interesting that such a network of secret passages existed beneath the city. There were likely more routes like this spread under Tiara, connecting temples, guard posts, and forgotten chambers. A useful detail to report later.

  But to gather more information, Ekkra knew he had to intervene before they escaped too far. When the priest explained that a specific tunnel in the upcoming cavern would lead them out of the city within an hour, Ekkra shifted closer. He followed the group through the narrow passage, keeping far enough behind that the priest would not notice him. The man’s weak light spell cast a pale glow on the stone, outlining their movements clearly enough for Ekkra to track.

  The passage opened into a cavern where several tunnels branched away. The priest pointed toward the left path, and for Ekkra, the moment was finally right. At last, he could enjoy himself again in the mortal realm.

  Unlike Vessikar, Ekkra had not been born in the Ashen Lands—his soul was far older. His hatred for the mortal realm did not come from the great war that had torn apart his old home. In truth, he hadn’t even noticed when the mortals sealed the Hell-Lands away from the world, nor had he cared. At that time, he had already spent a few hundred years imprisoned in Tartarus, a small fragment of Hell wedged between the circles, where he had been cast after a betrayal in the mortal realm.

  He had sworn to return and take revenge. He had cursed his luck every single day, until the Demon Moon appeared above his prison and called him back into the world…

  He let his claws scrape lightly against the stone so the sound carried. The three men stopped and turned. Ekkra stepped into the edge of the light, showing them the twisted shape, they expected to see.

  “So, since you helped me find the exit,” he said, “you are no longer necessary.”

  One of the paladins immediately pushed himself in front of the priest. “Get back, a lesser demon!”

  The other raised his sword. Holy light ran along the blade. “Foul creature, why are you following us?”

  Ekkra tilted his head. “Why? Because you are running away. Because your goddess does not protect cowards. Because I want to hear your bones break and taste the light in your blood. And because it is fun.”

  The priest muttered a spell. His body flickered and vanished behind an invisibility cloak. Ekkra watched the outline move backward along the wall. The priest’s foot hit the dropped sack of artifacts. He grabbed it quickly and held it to his chest.

  Ekkra turned toward the paladins and charged.

  He activated [Savage Pounce]. The skill drove him forward with enough force that the air cracked around him. He smashed into the paladin named Elron first, sending the man into the cavern wall. The impact jarred Ekkra’s arm, but Elron took the worst of it.

  The other one—Windale—attacked at once. His sword cut across Ekkra’s ribs, and the holy light burned deep into the wound. The pain was sharp and immediate. Ekkra gritted his teeth and moved in.

  He triggered [Claw Ripper]. His claws extended and tore through Windale’s breastplate. Windale staggered, gasped, and tried to strike again, but Ekkra pushed the blade aside and drove his claws into his chest. Windale collapsed.

  Elron forced himself off the wall, his sword still glowing with holy light. He drove the blade straight into Ekkra’s shoulder. The runes flared and burned through muscle, sending a sharp, hot pulse along the wound. Ekkra held back a snarl. Instead, he began to laugh, low and mocking, the sound echoing through the tunnel. He grabbed Elron’s arm, twisted until the bone cracked, and then closed his hand around the man’s throat, squeezing steadily until Elron went still.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Both paladins lay dead on the ground.

  Ekkra stood still for a moment. Blood dripped steadily from his side and shoulder. The holy energy inside the wounds pulsed in irregular waves, slowing his regeneration far more than he liked. He rolled his shoulder once, testing the damage. The burn crawled along the bone.

  He had not expected them to hit this hard.

  The Princess warned me not to be careless, he thought. I should have listened.

  But the priest was already far down the left tunnel. His fear hung in the air like a sharp trail of mana. Ekkra followed, ignoring the pain as best he could. His footsteps were silent, but his voice was not. He let his laughter echo through the stone. It was quiet at first, but steady, mocking.

  “Run, little priest. Your protectors are dead. Your goddess did not save them. She will not save you either.”

  He let the words bounce off the tunnel walls. He wanted the priest to hear. He wanted him to panic and trip and make mistakes. He spoke again, his tone almost casual.

  “They screamed beautifully. Both of them. Your goddess tasted bitter in their blood.”

  He laughed again. The sound rolled ahead through the tunnel. He could feel the priest’s fear spike in response. The man stumbled more than once, his breathing sharp and uneven.

  Ekkra caught up slowly, step by step. He could sense it. He was getting closer.

  But his wounds were deeper than he had thought. Every movement pulled at torn muscle. The holy magic still lingered in the cuts, slowing the transition of the vessel he occupied. Until the transformation was complete, he was not fully demon. He was somewhere between demon and undead, and divine power punished both sides of that state.

  He cursed under his breath. He had been careless. The fight had been short, but he had underestimated them. He reminded himself that there was always someone stronger. Always someone capable of doing real harm. But he had dealt with them. Now only the priest was left…

  Ekkra sniffed the air again. The priest was close now. Too close to risk another reckless charge. The man himself was not the same danger as the paladins had been, and Ekkra knew he could kill him whenever he wanted. But the priest had said something earlier. Something about meeting “the rest of the devoted.”

  That made Ekkra pause.

  Maybe it would be useful to see where the priest was heading. If he ran to the others, Ekkra could find out more. The Princess wanted information. And Ekkra, even while wounded, loved a god hunt.

  So, he slowed his steps, eased his breathing, and let his voice fade gradually, word by word, until only a low chuckle trailed behind him.

  Finally, he fell silent entirely.

  The priest hesitated ahead in the darkness, then pushed himself forward faster, believing Ekkra had lost him. Exactly what Ekkra wanted.

  After following him for a while, Ekkra felt his shoulder burn again. The holy contamination pulsed under his skin, slow and stubborn. It spread through the flesh like a poison he had no resistance against in his current state. Every few steps it twitched deeper, as if trying to anchor itself inside the wound, and he forced his muscles to stay steady despite the irritation.

  Annoying, he thought. But not enough to stop me. No… this feels like the old days… yes… yes… I’m back… oh yes.

  He sniffed the air. The priest was still close. The man had not stopped running, but exhaustion slowed him down. His invisibility spell had already faded. Ekkra could smell the mana drain. Humans never managed their energy well when afraid.

  Eventually the tunnel sloped upward. The priest’s steps changed on the stone, lighter and more confident. He believed he had lost Ekkra. His breathing steadied. He moved without the sharp panic that had guided him before.

  He reached the end of the passage a few minutes later. A thin curtain of water fell over the exit, hiding the crack in the rock from the outside world. The priest stepped through without hesitation, thinking he was finally safe.

  Ekkra followed.

  The holy contamination was worse now. It pulsed deeper in the wounds with every movement. He knew he had made a mistake by not killing the priest immediately in the cavern. His calculations had been wrong. He had underestimated the fact that this body was still undead, and divine energy punished that far harder than he had expected. He was not used to that.

  Furthermore, he had nothing to show for it after the fight. No relics. No detailed information. Only the existence of the tunnel system. And he had exposed himself. The priest would warn the others about his kind.

  Ekkra pressed a hand against his burning shoulder once, then pushed himself through the waterfall. The water stung the open wounds, but he ignored it. He was still strong enough to deal with several humans if needed. He just needed to end this quickly so he could rest and force the holy contamination out of his body. But he could only do that after completing his mission.

  And despite everything, he was excited. The hunt was more interesting now than he had expected. A proper challenge always made it better.

  Once outside, he moved at once. He sprang onto the nearest tree, climbed upward in a few quick motions, and reached the higher branches. From there he looked around. The exit lay inside a forest a few miles beyond Tiara’s walls.

  He activated [Blood Trail], a skill that let him detect blood within a wide radius. The target did not need to be wounded. He could smell the blood still inside a body, faint but distinct, and every human carried a different scent. The priest’s was thin, exhausted, and sharp with fresh fear.

  Ekkra followed it from tree to tree, closing the distance. The forest helped him. Branches creaked lightly under his weight. After a few minutes he saw him directly below.

  The priest looked exhausted. His legs shook with each step. Sweat ran down his face, and his breathing was irregular. But he looked relieved. Satisfied. He still carried the sack of artifacts.

  Ekkra grinned and let a quiet laugh slip through his teeth.

  “Found you, little priest.”

  The reaction was immediate. The priest froze and whipped around. His eyes darted through the trees, bushes, and grass, searching desperately for the source of the voice. His terror rose again, sharp and familiar.

  Ekkra enjoyed the panic rising from the priest.

  Then he let himself drop from the branch above, falling straight toward the man with a low cackle.

  The priest opened his mouth to scream, but he never got the chance.

  Just before Ekkra reached him, a loud voice shouted:

  “[Shield Interpose]!”

  A tower shield appeared between them in a flash of light. A hulking man stood under it, pushing the priest down to the ground with one arm. Ekkra crashed against the shield and was thrown sideways into a tree. The impact forced the air from his lungs and sent another sharp pulse of pain through his wounded shoulder.

  He had been too focused on the priest. And, because of his injury, he had not sensed the other humans nearby.

  Ekkra pushed himself back onto his feet quickly.

  The tall man with the tower shield now stood firmly in front of the priest, blocking all approach. But he was not the only one. More armed humans stepped out of the bushes around them. Swords, spears, and a few crossbows were all pointed in Ekkra’s direction.

  The priest began to laugh, half from shock and half from relief, clutching his sack of artifacts.

  Ekkra lowered his stance, readying himself for the fight. His shoulder burned, and the holy contamination pulsed again, but he ignored it.

  The shield-bearer shouted something to the others and braced his feet. Ekkra moved first.

  He charged with [Tormented Charge], his body surging forward in a burst of force. The nearest swordsman froze for a moment too long. Ekkra slammed into him, knocking him off his feet. Before the man could rise, Ekkra used [Rend Claw], tearing through his throat and chest in a single motion.

  The others reacted. A spear thrust came from his left. Ekkra twisted aside, grabbed the shaft, and pulled the spearman close. He drove his claws into the man’s stomach and threw him aside before the others closed in.

  A crossbow bolt hit Ekkra in the back. It did not pierce deeply, but it pushed his injured shoulder forward and made the holy contamination flare again. He hissed and turned toward the shooter.

  [Infernal Smash].

  He leapt and slammed both hands into the ground as he landed. The shockwave cracked the soil and knocked the crossbowman off balance. Ekkra reached him in two steps and tore his head back with [Claw Ripper], ripping open his neck.

  Three dead.

  The remaining fighters hesitated, but the tower shield man did not.

  He rushed forward with surprising speed. The man planted the shield into Ekkra’s chest and forced him backward with raw strength. Ekkra tried to pivot, but the pain in his shoulder slowed him. The shield-bearer pushed him into a tree and held him there, the weight of the shield grinding into his ribs.

  Ekkra struck back, claws flashing. He raked along the shield’s edge, leaving deep grooves, but the man did not move. The shield held firm, reinforced by a skill and pure muscle force.

  Another crossbow bolt struck Ekkra’s thigh. Then a spear grazed his side. The holy contamination pulsed again, harder this time, spreading down his arm. His regeneration lagged behind every injury.

  He pushed and tried to break free, but the shield-bearer anchored him against the tree with unyielding force. Ekkra growled, frustrated. His claws tore bark instead of flesh.

  Before he could pull himself loose, the hulking man shifted his weight. With one hand still holding the tower shield in place, he reached behind his back, drew a short sword, and rammed it straight into Ekkra’s neck.

  The blade punched through flesh and muscle. Holy energy on the edge burned deep, spreading through every part of Ekkra’s damaged vessel.

  For a moment he froze, his body locking.

  The last thoughts crawling through his mind were not anger, but regret. Regret that he had not used his second chance in the mortal realm to find him. Regret that he had ignored the Princess’s warning. And regret that his time here had been far too short. But at least… he could rest now.

  His vision blurred. His grip slipped. And the darkness claimed him. But right before he lost himself completely to the all-consuming void, he bit his tongue and shaped the final spell of his life. And with his last breath, he breathed more than air into the world.

  ???

  Jorg pulled his short sword out of the demon’s neck and let the body slump to the forest floor. He lowered his tower shield slowly, his arms trembling from the strain. The fight had been devastating and far too close for comfort. The thing had moved faster than anything he had ever seen, and for several moments he had been certain it would tear through all of them.

  But the goddess had been on his side today. He felt the familiar nudge in the back of his mind, the quiet certainty that the demon was truly dead. Only then did he allow himself to breathe again.

  He turned to check the others. Three of his people lay still on the ground. Two more were alive but badly wounded, propped against tree roots while the priest tended to them.

  Since the priest had reached the clearing alone, without Ser Elron or Ser Windale, Jorg could easily guess what had happened to them.

  The two paladins had fallen somewhere in the tunnels, just like the men lying here. In total it made five honorable fighters lost, a number heavy enough to settle like a stone in Jorg’s chest.

  He tightened his jaw. “Is there anything else following you?”

  The priest was bowing over one of the wounded men, his hands glowing with a slow, steady healing light as he pressed them against the injured leg. When Jorg asked whether more enemies were following, the priest shook his head. “No. We are safe, at least for now.”

  “What happened?” Jorg asked.

  “It is a long story,” the priest said. His voice was strained, and sweat rolled down his temples as he healed. “I will tell you when we move. We must reach the pass toward Burma as soon as possible. We need to warn the Holy Saint.”

  Jorg blinked. “The Holy Saint? Why? Warn her about what?”

  “Later, Jorg,” the priest answered, almost whispering. “Just later. I need a moment.”

  Jorg nodded, even though the answer told him nothing. “Fine. We rest for one hour. After that we head out.” He lifted his voice. “Oi, Jeff. Go tell the others we move in one hour.”

  “Aye, boss,” Jeff said, and slipped back through the bushes to inform the rest of the scattered group.

  Jorg let himself sit down on a fallen log. His arms were shaking harder now that the danger had passed. The demon had almost overpowered him at that tree. If he had been one heartbeat slower with his short sword, he would be lying dead with the others.

  He exhaled and finally allowed himself to follow the nudging feeling in his head. His status opened before his inner eye.

  A series of messages unfolded in clean glowing text.

  [New Title Acquired: Demon Slayer]

  For slaying your first demon. You stood where many fall. Whether this marks the beginning of greatness or a warning of darker things to come remains unclear.

  [New Title Acquired: Fate Breaker]

  For defeating an enemy at least one hundred levels above you. Against impossible odds, you forced the world to bend before your will for a single moment. Such actions ripple far beyond the battlefield.

  [Level Up]

  [Level Up]

  [Level Up]

  [Level Up]

  [...]

  More lines followed, climbing higher with each pulse of light.

  “What in the hell…” Jorg muttered under his breath.

  The priest glanced at him briefly. “Status backlash?” he asked quietly.

  Jorg did not answer. He stared at the messages, still appearing one after another.

  The demon had been far above him. Far above any of them. He had not slain it with skill or strength or cleverness. He had slain it because the goddess had pushed his hand at the right moment.

  The thought made the back of his neck prickle. A moment later a sudden burst of power flooded through his body, so sharp and overwhelming that he almost fainted. His vision blurred for an instant and his heartbeat stumbled, as if his pulse was trying to catch up with something that moved faster than his own blood.

  Leveling up once was always noticeable, usually a short rush of heat under the skin or a brief clarity in the mind. But this was completely different. And it was worse because the titles activated at the same time.

  His muscles tightened and relaxed in rapid waves, almost like something inside him was adjusting his body part by part. His bones grew heavier and then lighter again, as if they were shifting into a new balance. A burning sensation pushed through his arms and legs, rising sharply until it became painful. His vision blurred, then cleared again with sudden sharpness that made his head pound. His thoughts turned fuzzy for a moment, like his mind was trying to handle too many signals at once.

  His knees buckled.

  He collapsed to the ground with his hands barely catching himself. The world tilted, and he heard the priest rushing toward him. A moment later healing light washed over his face and chest. The magic eased the worst of the shock, and his breathing steadied by degrees until he could finally focus again.

  When the dizziness faded, Jorg opened his eyes and looked up at the priest. “Goddess, that was intense.”

  “How much did you level up?” the priest asked. He sounded unsettled. “I could literally see your body turning younger by years.”

  Jorg swallowed and forced himself to concentrate. The status window was still flickering behind his eyes. “Forty-three. I leveled up forty-three times. I breached the level three hundred mark. I am level three hundred thirteen now.” He shook his head slowly, trying to understand it. “How. What. How was something like that chasing you? I even got a title for killing something a hundred levels above me, but with this many levels gained, it must have been far more than that.”

  The priest went pale.

  “We do not have an hour,” he said very quietly. “We need to move now.”

  Jorg pushed himself upright. “What do you mean? Why?”

  “Because the thing that was chasing us was not the reason we left Tiara,” the priest said. His voice trembled. “It was only a subordinate sent to sniff us out and hunt us. It was playing with us. The real danger is still behind us, and we have no time. We need to reach the pass. Now.”

  Jorg stared at him for a heartbeat, then tightened his grip on his shield.

  “Then we move,” he said. “I will tell the others that we are leaving immediately.”