Chapter 383: Delirium and Doodads
In a region that had already been surrendered to the forces of mana, embers of human defiance still smoldered. Rather than sparks stirred by a feeble campfire struggling in the dank fog, the glimmer of resistance was ignited in the hearts of regular people who resisted. They had stepped forward, unbowed by the despair of defeat, illustrating the resolve to do whatever was necessary to hinder an unstoppable tide of enemies.
A small band from a tribal village had unanimously agreed to remain in their native land as it was lost. They recognized the price such a decision would demand and willingly offered the payment. They were committing everything to impede the nightmares that sought to annihilate their families, friends, and neighbors, declining the promise of safer havens in favor of giving their enemies a black eye, no matter the cost.
The shadow of Eradication blighted the land outside of their shallow cave, transforming the wilderness into a domain filled with unspeakable foes. The group gathered in the temporary shelter, anticipating the conclusion of their final preparations with grim deference.
Their defeat may have already been certain, but they intended to carve the concept of a Pyrrhic victory into the swarms of exterminators that threatened kin and strangers alike. They would never voluntarily yield. Not to the corrosion that ate at their souls, and not to the monsters that sought to conquer the immemorial roots of their historic home.
Within the group, their eyes shifted from one another, their breathing anything but calm, as they faced a unified destiny together. They were unable to completely quell their doubts while the ritual was prepared, but they forced themselves to remain motionless out of respect for each other. True courage wasn’t demonstrated by the absence of fear. It was established with the perseverance to take action in spite of it. As a whole, they refused to shrink away.
Half of the villagers were still filled with the vim and vigor of youth, barely experiencing a full life before putting it all on the line, while the others had earned the reliable obstinance of those in their twilight years. They each had a different background and had reached various stations in life, but in their last moments they all represented the same unconditional objection toward Eradication. They may have been few, but they were determined.
None of the group shied away from the mystic, silently reinforcing each other as they remained still in the smoke filled cave. He performed his deceptively meticulous work, unbothered by the audience. While they were committing a conscious act of altruistic sacrifice, they were still electing to venture into the unknown. Some nerves were to be expected.
The small flame in the center spat and crackled as it gradually raised a pot to boil. It was struggling to stay ignited with the poor fuel that they had scrounged from outside, but like them, it fought against the inevitable just long enough to get the job done.
The laboring fire barely provided any light on the spectators, but the whites of their eyes caught the struggling illumination as they shifted their glances around the circle. They were already dirty, sweaty, and even wounded, some barely resisting the corrosion that chewed at their mana, shaking with severe feverish symptoms that indicated the end was near, but what they sought would free them from their human toils. Long shadows and sparse incandescence did little to mask their unease as silvery dust was sprinkled into the steaming water and mashed flowers were added into the bubbling mixture with a hiss.
The medicine was a bitter one. A few licked their parched lips, anticipating their dose, while the rest were conscious that their dry throats would make it a challenge to swallow. Though they sniffled at the aroma or simply scowled into the brew, they spoke no last words.