The Lich Without a Soul Vessel

A vampire, sucked dry in turn by a so-called god — the irony was almost too much. His followers scattered with a rush, everyone breaking in every direction, while Josephine's body took on color in an instant, beginning to transform into living flesh, even as Julian withered away in front of him.

Two other Divine Spawn had each seized a victim of their own, fangs bared, biting down without a moment's hesitation, both faces going slack with a drugged, blissful expression. Evan's scythe stirred, appearing behind the Divine Spawn nearest him — and it seemed to sense something, its head snapping up to see the blade coming. Terror flashed across its face, and its shadowy form plunged straight down into the ground, vanishing.

The scythe struck nothing — the first time it had ever missed. It seemed to possess a kind of intelligence, and fury flashed through it; a dark glow flickered, and a rift opened in space, slicing straight down into the earth. The ground rippled, and a faint, agonized cry echoed up from below, black mist rising. The Divine Spawn reappeared elsewhere, a wound across its body shrinking rapidly, teeth grinding at Evan in hatred.

Just as Evan was about to move, Josephine appeared behind him, reaching out a hand. Looking down, Evan saw a hand had already passed clean through his body from behind. His form scattered apart, revealing, faintly, a wisp of blackish-red mist, strange patterns etched within it, which Josephine swallowed. In that instant, Josephine's godly presence surged upward once more.

The other Divine Spawn, sensing danger, turned to flee at once — but there was no chance of escape. Josephine merely glanced at it, something like a beam shooting from his eyes, and the creature froze in place. Dozens of forearms away, Josephine's arm stretched out like a gibbon's, impossibly long.

The Divine Spawn was clearly terrified, but could only watch helplessly as Josephine's arm extended, its sharp-tipped fingers plunging straight into its chest. A wisp of blackish-red mist, faintly patterned, appeared in his hand; he drew it back at once, tilted his head, and swallowed it whole. His presence climbed yet another degree, seeming to merge, faintly, with everything around him.

By now, no one else remained on the battlefield — only the three of them, Evan, Tina, and Ronaldo. Everyone else had either been killed or had already fled far into the distance. Tina and Ronaldo, though, had drifted some distance from Evan, mostly a result of Evan's earlier pursuit of the Divine Spawn.

Josephine's eyes fixed on the three of them, a mocking glint in his gaze. He spoke for the first time. "Very good. That scythe of yours is quite something — it's devoured a great many of my kind. Now it's your turn. Rest assured, I won't let a single one of you leave this place."

His voice was hoarse, like grinding gravel. Evan steadied himself. He knew a brutal battle was coming — if he couldn't defeat this thing, there would be no future to speak of. This was a fight for survival itself, and he couldn't afford to lose. He had to stay calm. By rights, Josephine, being Divine Spawn, shouldn't have achieved complete power — Evan's scythe had already devoured no small number of his fellow Divine Spawn, which was precisely why Evan had confidence he could still win this fight.

"You're nothing but Divine Spawn. Your age ended long ago. Calling you a god would be generous — 'demon' suits you better," Evan said.

"Nonsense. I am a god — a god returned from slumber." Fury flared in him at once.

Evan smiled. The more agitated he became, the more it confirmed Evan had struck at the truth of what he was. Evan had worried, at first, that this thing might genuinely be a god — but now it was clear, this was nothing more than Divine Spawn. Evan didn't know why it had come into the mortal world, but that it was Divine Spawn, he could now be almost certain.

As Evan smiled, the ground began to ripple. Pale blue flames sprang up around him, giving off no heat at all, and yet melting the very earth beneath them. Evan snorted and stamped down hard; the scythe spun in a circle around him, and the pale blue flames extinguished without a sound. The ground trembled, and within several forearms of him, the rippling ground grew still, though it continued surging violently everywhere else. Evan felt a strange sensation — as though he himself could somehow influence the world around him.

Tina and Ronaldo stood as though nailed to the ground, their bodies swaying with the earth's convulsions, but neither fell.

Seeing the ground around Evan suddenly stilled, Josephine's expression flickered, a trace of wariness crossing his gaze. He was about to make his next move when the Spear of Hadir appeared in Evan's hand. He hurled it forward; it struck with a boom, a mushroom cloud rising, a ghoulish face grinning wide within it, all life in the surrounding area severed in an instant.

Josephine, caught off guard, took the hit — no real damage done, but he came away looking thoroughly disheveled. He let out a furious roar, and the clouds above erupted with thunder, ten thousand bolts crashing down at once like rain. His body became a bolt of lightning and lunged straight at Evan.

Seeing that his magic hadn't been nullified, Evan's spirits rose. He remembered clearly, from his time in the demiplane of the Life Goddess in the Savage Continent, encountering the Blasphemous Witch, Ined, one of the 72 Demons of Solomon, who had stolen the Life Goddess's glory — that realm where every word spoken became reality had rendered Evan's magic utterly useless. He'd felt thoroughly stifled that day. But Josephine possessed no such ability, which only confirmed further for Evan that this was mere Divine Spawn — carrying some portion of a god's power, perhaps, but no god itself.

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Lightning rained down from the sky like a downpour. Evan's expression changed — he was worried for the other two, that the falling bolts might catch them in the crossfire. There was no time to think it through further. The mala slid into his hand, and with a flick of his finger, a bead shot free, transforming into an enormous water-blade that rose to meet the falling lightning head-on. The lightning, fierce as it was, was shattered by the water-blade before it could strike him, the blade itself shrinking in the process.

His scythe swept out, and the lightning around him vanished entirely. He pointed a hand at the blade, and it flashed forward to meet Josephine. Josephine cried out in alarm, the bolt of lightning that was his form abruptly veering off course, dropping to the ground, his expression shifting unpredictably.

The moment he landed, another bead appeared before him, courtesy of Evan. The air turned bitterly cold in an instant, snow beginning to drift through it, a thin layer of ice forming over Josephine's body. It was the Thousand-League Ice Seal spell — Evan hadn't expected it to actually freeze Josephine solid, only hoped it might slow his hands and feet.

The wave of cold spread outward at once, and Josephine's movements visibly slowed. Evan pulled several scrolls from his ring in quick succession, tearing them open one after another — violent explosions and the crackle of lightning filled the air without pause, the scrolls' unleashed power washing over him.

Evan let out a breath. When the smoke from the explosions cleared, Josephine looked utterly wretched, his bat wings shielding himself, his flesh torn open in a dozen places. The moment the smoke cleared and he saw the damage, Josephine's fury reached its peak. "Damned vermin. Defiling a god's dignity — I'll cast you down into hell, to burn in the netherworld's flames day after day!"

His wings spread wide, a dim glow rising around his body, his wounds visibly healing before their eyes at a pace the naked eye could follow. He rose into the air, an eerie fire flickering in his eyes, and began chanting a harsh, guttural incantation. The dark clouds overhead gathered swiftly, and an enormous violet fireball shot from within them, crashing down toward Evan with the force of thunder itself, the air compressing violently around it. Before it even arrived, Evan already felt tremendous pressure bearing down on him; the ground within ten forearms around him sank abruptly. Evan roared, gray-white sword-energy bursting from his entire body.

Phosphorescent fire streamed from his mouth and nose. He looked up and flicked another bead loose; in an instant, a hundred forearms of thunderfire roared upward to meet the attack.

He tried to teleport away, but found he couldn't move at all — the space around him seemed locked in place. Left with no choice, he used yet another bead — these were the eighteen Heathermere had forged for him, and he hadn't expected to burn through several of them in a single day.

A legendary spell was a legendary spell. The hundred forearms of thunderfire erupted with an earth-shaking roar, and the crushing pressure around him vanished at once. His body flickered and he retreated to safety.

The enormous fireball and the thunderfire vanished together in the same instant. In that same flicker, Josephine suddenly moved — too fast to track at all. In that instant, Evan felt an overwhelming sense of danger.

His awareness flared, and the scythe appeared once more. A gust of wind swept past him; he sensed the scythe had cut through something. His staff swung up in his right hand to block — a heavy impact rang out, the staff torn from his grip, his right palm split open, the bones within it shattered. His body staggered, and his left arm went cold — severed clean at the elbow.

His reflexes were already extraordinary, ranked among the very best of humankind — but measured against Josephine, who knew what vampire and werewolf blood ran in that creature's veins, they had still proven too slow. His right-hand staff hadn't even fully completed its strike before the blow landed; his left arm had been sheared away by a wing before he could react. Fortunate, at least, that the scythe had appeared in time and still managed to wound Josephine — it was precisely his wariness of the scythe that had spared Evan from something far worse.

"Damn you!" Josephine snarled with venom. He had unleashed his full speed, impossibly fast, and still the scythe had caught him, drawing off a portion of his essence despite it all.

He casually snatched up the severed half of Evan's arm, sneering as he raised it to his mouth and chewed it down — only for his expression to shift violently, because he tasted none of the vitality unique to a living human. It was like chewing on wax. "You're a lich?!"

For the first time, Evan had taken a severe blow. Everything had happened too fast; by the time he understood what was happening, his left arm was already gone. His own expression shifted violently as well — without a Soul Vessel, he'd always taken great care of his body, and he'd never expected to suffer such damage here. Was he to be maimed for good now?

Then, sudden joy — a whole, undamaged arm appeared in his awareness. The instant his mind touched it, black mist surged from the stump at once, thickening rapidly. An unbearable itch spread through the wound, and as the mist drew back into his body, a new arm emerged in its place. He couldn't help but think of Prince Ellona's peculiar ability — the undying body — though Ellona had drawn on a fiend's power for that. What was happening to him now, he had no idea — but this wasn't the moment to puzzle it out. Black mist rose from his right hand as well, and under Josephine's astonished gaze, it too returned to wholeness.

Information flowed from the scythe into Evan's mind, and understanding dawned on him at once — so that's how it is. He looked back at Josephine now with the gaze of a dead man. He let out a long howl, and everything around him suddenly lifted into the air, rapidly expanding outward. The scythe rang out with a clear tone and split into several blades, striking at Josephine like lightning.

Josephine could scarcely believe what he was seeing. He let out a howl of his own, and earth and stone rose into the air around him — but the scythes moved like specters, and the flying rocks and soil proved no more substantial than illusions before them. The blades drove into his body, then merged back into a single scythe once more, and the ground itself began to tremble, as though on the verge of tearing itself apart.