Chapter 122: The King (6)
The Ancient King’s back pressed harder against the obsidian throne as the three warriors closed in like wolves sensing wounded prey. His sun mask, once pristine and terrifying in its golden perfection, now bore spider web cracks that leaked thin streams of dark ichor. The hollow eyes that had stared with such malevolent confidence now seemed to flicker with something that might have been desperation—or perhaps it was merely the reflection of the lightning dancing around Aziel’s form.
"You should have let the corruption kill you," Arthur’s voice loud, carrying a hint of angered confidence. His shadow-wreathed blade pulsed with accumulated energy, the weapon now more void than steel, drinking in light and hope with equal voracity.
The king’s response was a snarl of fury that seemed to come from the depths of eternity itself. His ancient sword swept in a wide arc, trying to create breathing room between himself and his tormentors. But the weapon that had once moved with godlike speed now struggled against the accumulated damage and drain of their relentless assault.
Aziel intercepted the desperate strike with supernatural reflexes, his spear catching the ancient blade in a shower of sparks that illuminated the throne room like a thunderstorm. Electricity coursed down the length of both weapons, and for a moment the two warriors stood locked in a contest of pure power.
"Your time is over" Aziel hissed through gritted teeth, blood still streaming from his broken nose. Lightning crackled around the wound, the electrical energy working to numb the pain even as it pushed his mortal form beyond its limits.
The king’s strength faltered for just an instant—a moment of weakness caused by the cumulative effects of damage. It was enough. Aziel’s spear slipped past the ancient sword’s guard, the lightning-wreathed point punching through the king’s shoulder with enough force to pin him against his own throne.
Dark ichor sprayed across the obsidian stone as the king let out a roar of pain and rage. But even impaled, he was far from finished. His free hand shot out like a striking viper, fingers wrapping around Aziel’s throat with crushing force. The lightning-wielder’s eyes bulged as the king’s supernatural strength began to close off his airway, electricity dancing frantically around his form as his body fought for oxygen.
"Aziel!" Lara’s cry of alarm echoed through the chamber as she launched herself forward, both twin blades seeking the king’s exposed side. Her weapons carved deep furrows through whatever supernatural protection still shielded the ancient ruler.
The king’s grip on Aziel’s throat tightened, and she could see his face beginning to turn blue as his lightning flickered and dimmed. Desperation gave her strength as she twisted her blades deeper, trying to cause enough damage to force the ancient ruler to release his grip.
It was then that Arthur struck with the accumulated fury of his darkness.
All the darkness he had been channeling—it coalesced into a single moment of perfect, deadly focus. His shadow-wreathed blade cut through the leaving a trail of absolute void in its wake.