Blood Immortal

Sealing the Portal

Aarian breathed heavily and ferociously, staring at his ruined kingdom. Before flying toward it, however, he turned sidelong and gazed upon Varkagorsa who continued to mourn the death of Zavoba.

“Varka,” called out Aarian. “Bury him if you must. The rest of you, follow me into the ruins of Jerelaith. Today we seal the portal.”

Despite being drained from battle, the survivors followed their leader to the crumbled entrance of Jerelaith. Aarian wanted to roar when he saw what had become of his home. There was nothing left. Not a single building stood intact. Before him lay miles and miles of rubble. The only reason why he knew that this was in fact Jerelaith was because he could see pieces of the marble castle and its roof on the ground.

“I’m sorry you have to see Jerelaith like this,” said Scar.

Clenching his fists, Aarian bellowed at the top of his lungs, “I will destroy every last one of them!”

“Aarian,” called out Parla’vasa gently. “You’re far too angry. You must not let your rage consume you. Izabaldo lingers within you, remember? The more you let such wrath control you, the higher the chance that Izabaldo could possess you again.”

“He is nothing!” snapped Aarian. “If he dares attack my soul then I shall destroy him as I did with the other pathetic Spirits!”

“I trust you know what you’re doing,” she said, alarmed.

“Come, brothers and sisters of the eternal light!” bellowed Aarian. “Let us find the hell rift and finish this!”

The alliance gave out one last shout of optimism and followed their leader into the ruins of a once glorious capital. Now it was infested with fiery hellhounds and demonic knights using humyn bones for armor. The werewolves tackled the hellhounds while the others focused on the fiendish knights from hell.

Infuriated by the demons who used humyn bones for protection, Aarian’s eyes glazed with fire. He advanced toward the legion blinded with hate and struck down dozens of them. When he cleared a path ahead he was able to see an illuminating flame hovering just above the crumbled temple once dedicated to Daela’han. Gazing at what must be the rift, he wondered if that was the main reason why the sky was so red. Regardless of the cause, he stomped onward and made his way to the portal.

“This is it,” said Aarian. “We have arrived at the doorstep of hell. And now I ask you to stand your ground one last time.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Scar.

“I can’t seal this portal the same way as before,” said Aarian. “Etching that nine-pointed star on my neck was actually a curse. I must use the light of Xen to seal the portal. This may take time, so I need all of you to defend me and maintain your positions.”

The remaining guardians and members of the alliance obeyed him, gathering together in strategic battle formations. Archers stood close to Aarian while warriors with swords and axes lined up in a circle, guarding every direction. Only a couple of hundred savages and elves were left but nevertheless stood firm.

As expected, hellfire knights approached from all corners of the ruined city. These fiends were led by a feminine demon lord whose breasts and other bodily features were more fair than any breathing fairy in the world. Yet her face was burnt off, replaced by a monstrous skull, an eternal blaze engulfing her eyes, mouth, and cranium. Without a doubt, the remaining defenders of Yunedar assumed that she must be Daela’han.

“This can’t be happening,” said Parla’vasa, flustered.

While the alliance fought valiantly, Daela’han spewed flame on a brigade, burning them to crisps. Her army was being decimated, but the prince’s was also withering away. With only a hundred warriors left, they backed away and stayed close to Aarian who was levitating within the rift. His body glowed brighter and brighter while Daela’han approached with another menacing wave of demonic knights and hellhounds. Scar swooped down and attacked the demons with his talons frequently but didn’t do much damage.

“We can’t hold them back forever,” squawked Scar, ascending.

“Hold your position!” barked Shakar, mauling a hellhound.

At this point, Shakar was the only werewolf left. She howled, trying her best to battle against the fiendish beasts. Wounded by the fiery claws of hellhounds, she yelped in pain and withdrew. Upon backing away, Varkagorsa returned with a legion of trolls and orcs who had finished burying Zavoba.

“Tear them apart,” grunted Varkagorsa ferociously, slicing a demon in half with his enchanted katana.

“Thank goodness,” said Parla’vasa, shooting arrows at hellhounds.

Flanking the demons, Varkagorsa and his legion were able to slash the fiends with ease. Daela’han, on the other hand, gazed at them with a look of death and hurled immense spheres of fire at them. Doing so, she created an inferno by the rift. Aarian continued to glow, illuminating as if he were Xen herself. Then a holy blast ignited from him, vaporizing Daela’han—body and Spirit—who screeched until dissipating into nonexistence.

“Aarian!” cried out Parla’vasa.

Though he had obliterated Daela’han, he vanished. The alliance looked mystified by what had just happened, especially since the portal remained open. Although they had gained another hundred warriors with the return of Warlord Varkagorsa, they were wary. More so, they couldn’t help but feel uneasy as the ground started to shake.

“Hold the line, brethren,” commanded Varkagorsa.

Again, the ruined city shook. The tremors were consistent, worsening by the minute. As the savages and elves stood their ground, they looked around, wondering what was causing such strange earthquakes. Then, gazing north, they saw the source of the increasing tremors—a demon the size of a mountain was stomping toward them. This demon’s entire body was made of granite and dripping lava, and its seething eyes blazed with fire.

“Another wave of demons approach from the north,” said Varkagorsa. “This may be the last of them. In the name of the Dralekar, fight to the bitter end with honor!”

The remaining defenders of Yunedar charged forth and collided with what seemed to be the final wave of demons. Yet there were at least a thousand of them. More so, the warlocks felt useless because the fiends were immune to their magic. Only those with swords and axes were able to kill them. Though, even they were being slaughtered. As the mountain demon advanced, the remnants of the alliance felt they needed to retreat.

Just then, cannonballs blasted clusters of demons. Afterwards, the mountainous lord of lava and granite was attacked, giving out an ear-shattering roar. Dozens of savages and elves who were still alive turned and looked overhead, seeing a fleet of blimp-like airships approach from the west.

“It’s about damn time,” grumbled Varkagorsa.

The remnants of the alliance cheered, seeing the army of dwarves arrive in the sky. This motivated them to stand their ground and keep fighting despite the odds being against them. The dwarves continued to fire lethal ammunition from the weighty cannons on their wooden decks at the hellish fiends, especially the mountainous demon lord who approached the flotilla of airships and struck down two of them with one strike.

“Moun’tains of Khordalam!” said Thiegen Coragi, the dwarven king. “Loo’k at the si’ze of tha’t bloody demon!”

Little did he know, that was actually Khordalam himself whom he and his militia were fighting against. They relentlessly fired their cannons at the last immortal. Parts of his granite body burst, a landslide forming. Rocks fell, smashing against both demons and savages. Lava spewed from his wounds like blood, incinerating an entire group of elven archers. Many of the dwarves witnessed what had happened to the elves, their bearded faces aghast due to the awful occurrence.

Not one second later, Khordalam struck down two more airships and spewed fire on another from his molten mouth, causing its ropes to sizzle and snap. The wooden deck detached from the balloon, dozens of dwarves falling and screaming to their deaths. Sweltering magma dripped again from Khordalam; it was on the verge of dispersing over Parla’vasa who shrieked and winced at the approaching lava. Seconds before being devoured by it, Scar descended and grabbed her by his beak.

“Thank you, Scar,” she said, wheezing. “What could have possibly happened to Aarian? Do you think his anger consumed him?”

“We must believe in him and have faith that the rift will be sealed soon,” said Scar, flying toward the airships. “There’s no way we’ll be able to succeed against this demon without Aarian. That is why we must trust in his abilities despite the anger he has.”

“I will try,” she said weakly.

The dwarves, meanwhile, kept trying to destroy the mountain demon. Even though they’d just joined the fight, they were already panicking. Khordalam struck down another few airships. The demon lord was also just a few steps away from crushing the remaining legion beneath him with his gargantuan feet.

When he set foot upon the ruins of Jerelaith, however, his granite body started cracking and crumbling apart. He gave out a coarse groan, rocks falling and magma gushing down. The remnants of savages and elves retreated, trying to avoid the falling boulders and spewing lava. Just then, his Spirit emerged from the rubble.

Yet when the Spirit of Khordalam rose out, ready to haunt countless victims, primarily the dwarves, he began to get sucked into the searing portal that was suspended in the air a few feet away from him. The demon lord gave out earsplitting screeches until he vanished into the hell rift. That instant, when his Spirit disappeared, a powerful shockwave erupted from within the collapsing portal, which sent every running warrior to the ground. Even some of the nearby airships were affected, pushed away and colliding into one another by the heavy winds caused by the shockwave.

“Wha’t in the na’me of Khordalam jus’t hap’pened?” asked Thiegen Coragi, gazing down with a pale face.

The dwarves looked at him with blank expressions, speechless and shrugging.

“King Aarian of Vlydyn has succeeded!” cheered Scar, landing on Thiegen’s airship with Parla’vasa on his back. “I knew he could do it.”

“But at what cost?” moped Parla’vasa, dismounting him.

Slightly worried, Scar looked down and tried to find Aarian. “He couldn’t have sacrificed himself in order to seal the portal. I mean, did you see what His Majesty did to the other Spirits? The strength he has is nearly limitless. There’s no way he could be gone.”

Parla’vasa, tears in her eyes, thought differently. Though the demons and their immortal leaders had finally been purged from Yunedar once and for all, she couldn’t help feel that this historical victory had come at a terrible cost. And as she wept miserably, the same despair and sadness within her spread like a contagion to the dwarves. They had hoped to meet Aarian, the last humyn who fought bravely to save their world.

Because of Aarian’s heroic sacrifice, Thiegen Coragi ordered his flotilla to land and help the wounded legion below to create a memorial for the savior of the world. This was a day of both victory and defeat—a day that would be remembered by elven scholars and those alike for the rest of their lives.