The First Dance of Rapsamash
Chapter 13

A rumble of ritual chants echoed from the square, accompanied by the cries of the future victims. Or rather, those who would be liberated? Through the dense ranks of soldiers, it was difficult to discern much, but the black arch of the portal stood out against the backdrop of the barns and grain warehouses. It seemed as though the sun hesitated to touch the obelisks, or perhaps they simply absorbed its light, feeding on it...

And somewhere there, in the very center of the square, Zerdraba was about to open a path for Him, even if it was a tiny loophole into this world. There was just one problem.

— Archers, kill the elf! — Gedar raised his hand in the gauntlet, — Don’t let her interfere with the ritual! Sorcerers, create barriers! The rest of you, fall back, surround the square, raise your shields!

The White Witch gracefully leaped off her horse directly onto the wall of the house to her left. Gripping the protruding bricks, she swiftly climbed upwards, heading straight for the roof. Following their commander’s orders, the soldiers hurriedly made their way back to the square.

Arrows and bolts whistled towards the climbing elf from the rooftops, but she skillfully evaded them, seemingly having eyes in the back of her head, continuing her ascent. Only a few arrows managed to pierce holes in her cloak, but not a single scratch marred her slender and agile body. After a couple more moments, the White Witch was already on the roof, raising her bow with one hand, while reaching into her pouch with the other. She pulled out a handful of small, greenish spheres and tossed them right in front of her, before sprinting across the roof towards the square, skillfully shooting down soldiers aiming at her. As soon as the spheres hit the roof, they released thick smoke, from which several translucent green silhouettes emerged, resembling forest creatures. They pounced on the bewildered enemies in their path, while she swiftly turned around and released a couple of arrows one after another, directly at the Commander. However, his sturdy, tempered plate armor easily deflected them. A shadow of disappointment passed over the elf’s face, but she continued to advance rapidly towards the square, clearing her path with the help of the spectral beasts and precise shots.

Gedar drew his sword from its sheath — he couldn’t afford to hesitate. If his men couldn’t handle this elf, then there was no other choice. With his free hand, he pulled out several vials of colorful liquids from his belt pouch and quickly emptied them, then gripped the sword’s hilt with both hands and raised it above his head.

— Everyone, get off the roofs! Move, quickly! — the Commander tightened his right gauntlet, and bright orange flames burst between the metal plates, surging into the sword’s hilt in spurts. He could only hope that his men would replace cover in time.

— Lem-bata-mitar!

With a swing of his sword, a pair of houses sank into the raging flames with a deafening blast. The storm of fire melted bricks, tearing the structures to pieces. The air, roaring under the force of the flames, filled with the acrid smell of smoke and charred debris.

Bursting through the houses, the massive stream of fire surged forward, engulfing the neighboring street. Everything was consumed by the flames, except for his targets—a few surviving spectral beasts leaped off the roof behind Gedar, rushing towards the square. Meanwhile, the elf, miraculously soaring high in the air, not only escaped the all-consuming vortex but also took aim at someone on the square with her bow. He couldn’t let her shoot! The ritual was not yet complete! Gedar raised his sword, preparing to unleash the flames once again.

***

Her cloak had been singed and was now more of a hindrance than help in taking cover. She had barely managed to evade the Dragon’s Tongue flames — if she hadn’t recognized those magical words, the fiery storm would have caught her off guard, and it would have been all over. But now, it played into Lycari’s hands— the explosion had helped her to ascend even higher, making it easier to hit her target from above. Identifying the leader of the cultists amidst the crowd was easy — of course, he stood half-naked in the center of the ritual circle — she released her deadly arrow at him. It was all over now. Without their leader, the ritual would fail, and she would have more time to deal with the rest. Her little creatures were causing chaos among the now less orderly ranks of soldiers. All that remained was to take care of their leader. Imagine that — the bearer of the Dragon’s Tongue, the renowned Fire Commander, was one of the Portal cultists! How hadn’t she recognized him immediately? She just needed to aim more precisely or replace a way to penetrate his armor...

All these thoughts raced through her mind as her arrow soared straight into the head of the dark-skinned cultist. In a brief moment, she could even hear the crunch as the projectile shattered his skull, passing right through. Carefully landing on the remains of the charred roof, Licari watched as the half-naked body collapsed onto its side. The world seemed to hush and freeze for that moment — everyone looked on in surprise as the cultists’ plan crumbled to ashes. But it was only for a moment — other cultists suddenly resumed their chanting. Lycari tensed. The impaled head of the dark-skinned cultist touched the ground, spilling blood that formed intricate patterns, outlining symbols drawn on the square. The widest stream of blood flowed directly toward the center of the alopharyte arch.

— Oh, Kreneya...

She had just single-handedly completed the ritual.

Not all was lost yet! Quickly recovering, she drew her bowstring once more, grabbing her despised arrows — now they were almost her only hope. She, too, could unleash fire. Shot after shot, three fiery arrows streaked towards the alopharyte obelisk. The first two managed to pass through, while the third struck a hastily raised, barely visible barrier. However, even the arrows that broke through couldn’t inflict any damage — igniting in a bright explosion, they barely left a scratch on the cursed stones. Finally, the blood streams reached their target.

— Lem-bata-mitar!

Back! Discarding her cloak, the elf soared high in the air again, escaping the all-consuming scarlet storm that tore through the air. The Commander blocked her escape route, and she could hardly do anything... Without the cloak, even the sun became her enemy. Gladly, with all this smore around… Come on, Lycari, remember what you know about portals! Still airborne, she spotted three towering pillars with tortured victims hanging from them. It seemed as if the blood streams, like taut ropes, extended straight from them to the portal. Anchors! Before the portal fully opens, it can still be sealed! She just needed to get rid of the anchors! Another explosive arrow was nocked on her bowstring, followed by the shot! The arrow exploded upon reaching the square’s boundary, striking the magical barrier. More! She needed more! Lycari drew multiple enchanted arrows at once, but her hands suddenly stopped obeying her: the air trembled, and she felt as if the very ground emitted a broken groan.

***

The wall of blood surged upward along the obelisks, forming a dark crimson curtain, as if a screen concealing the gates that would collapse into the depths within a mere moment, opening a passage to the darkness of another world. In a different situation, Gedar would have rejoiced — his plan had finally come to fruition, all seven long years — or rather, his entire life — had been leading up to this moment. But that persistent Witch still stood in his way. The brand on his neck burned, even more so than the scorching gauntlet on his hand. The stream of flames from his sword once again failed to reach its target. He needed more! He needed to corner her! Just one obstacle remained, just one, and he would fulfill His Will. Completely. He was His chosen one, and he couldn’t afford to lose. Especially not now. He couldn’t let her break the anchors, he had to hold on for a little longer!

The smooth darkness of the portal shattered, releasing countless long, impenetrably black tendrils as thick as fists, ending in three disproportionate fingers that resembled claws. The tendrils immediately lunged toward the screaming victims, who had been prepared specifically for this moment. Gripping townsfolk and slaves who futilely and hopelessly tried to escape their fate, the tendrils dragged them into the darkness, their cries abruptly silenced, saturating Him with their despair. Dozens of tendrils scattered across the square, each one reaching its target. Those who were simply dragged into the darkness fared better than those caught by several tendrils at once. As if competing among themselves for the prey, the black hands tore apart their victims, sprinkling the ritual circle with their blood. Ritualists and some soldiers fell to their knees, but their prayers and murmurs were indistinguishable amidst the agony of defenseless lambs. The tendrils found the faithless as well, snatching them from the clusters of supplicants and dragging them away. Yet none of the otherworldly hands could reach beyond the delineated ritual circle, although it was enough to stain the entire square with blood. One of the soldiers, driven by fear and abandoning his faith, grabbed his weapon and attempted to strike at an approaching tendril. Swinging his sword, he shouted, but as the blade passed right through the black otherworldly limb, it began to melt like strong acid. The tendril seized the soldier, swiftly dragging him into the darkness of the portal, leaving behind only a deformed sword guard on the blood-soaked cobblestones.

Dumbfounded by the nightmare that unfolded before her eyes, the elf couldn’t even release another shot. Excellent, her fear— is the guarantee of His ultimate victory. And Gedar’s as well. He tightened his gauntlet, biting his lips until they bled from the searing flame engulfing his hand. If he couldn’t harm the Witch, at least he wouldn’t let her shoot. To achieve that, he needed to strip her of any advantage at range and force close-quarters combat. Even better, catch her in mid-air. Now!

— Lem-bata-mitar!

In the moment when the flames almost reached their target, Gedar saw her manage to take cover behind a magically conjured barrier of unknown origin. None of the barriers he knew could withstand the Dragon’s Tongue flame, but this one did. He was briefly surprised, but remembering who stood against him, he rushed forward, meeting the elf who softly descended to the ground head-on. It was unlikely that this Witch had any similar tricks left up her sleeve, but he had fulfilled his purpose — she had nowhere to run from the battle, and the potions had finally started taking effect.

***

The amulet, given to her by Albalph, shattered into tiny pieces. She wouldn’t have another chance to avoid a direct hit from the fiery storm. Still reeling from the phantasmagorical slaughter unfolding before her, Lycari reached once again into her bag, trying to simultaneously land softly on the melted cobblestones of the street. Her hand quickly found a sphere, larger than the ones she had scattered on the roof, and she swiftly threw it forward, catching a glimpse of the Fire Commander clad in armor charging straight toward her at inhuman speed, swinging his sword for a strike. The elf barely managed to dodge as the Dragon’s Tongue ripped through her bag, scattering its numerous contents onto the ground. A second strike followed, but this time she was prepared, evading it by stepping out of the line of attack, simultaneously slinging her bow behind her and drawing her saber. The sphere she had thrown finally reached the ground, unleashing a thick smoke that billowed in all directions, momentarily obscuring the carnage on the square. Immediately after, her spectral mount dashed toward the square with a deafening roar — a four-legged creature covered in semi-transparent green fur, its shaggy crest reaching the rooftops of the yet undamaged houses. It charged straight at one of the anchors, resembling a battering ram with its two long, sharp tusks, sweeping away soldiers who attempted to form ranks as if they were made of dry straw. The Commander only briefly turned his attention to the beast, assessing the situation, before launching one attack after another at Lycari. The elf had to focus on defense, sparing only a fleeting glance at her companion to see if her plan had succeeded.

The creature crashed into the barrier raised by the sorcerers, breaking through it with a roar, its tusks scattering the soldiers who rushed to engage it, ignoring their futile attempts to strike it or halt its advance. The spectral ram reached its target, toppling a horrifying sacrificial pillar, and had already turned to deal with the second one when the black tendrils began to wrap around it one by one, pressing it to the ground, tearing it apart, and dragging it toward the gaping abyss of the portal. The beast roared as if alive, drowning out the cries of the people, and struggled to break free from the clutches of the otherworldly tendrils, but in vain — torn clumps of semi-transparent flesh dissolved into the air, while the remains of its still writhing carcass were irresistibly pulled closer to the arch. Closer to the Abyss.

Taking advantage of the moment, Lycari countered with a couple of strikes. The Commander wielded his sword with both hands, but his right hand, encased in the heated gauntlet, clearly suffered from the frequent use of fire magic. Furthermore, his movements were still based on the Eklat School of swordsmanship, just honed to a greater degree, and she knew how to counter his attacks, even though they were enhanced and accelerated by potions. She could handle him! But first, the anchors needed to be destroyed, or else... Suddenly, the Commander’s strikes accelerated even further, putting Lycari in a precarious position. The fading cries on the square gave way to exclamations of either awe or even greater horror, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw them—the hounds of the Abyss, nightmares in flesh. The tendrils, having sated themselves, slid back into the portal arch, and in their place emerged and crawled out creatures so infinitely black that sunlight seemed to vanish around them. Featureless, headless, grotesquely symmetrical, with six limbs serving as both arms and legs simultaneously, they rushed in different directions from the arch, seeking new victims for themselves. They emerged and emerged, as if the very darkness of the portal spawned them — devourers of light, extinguishers of life, harbingers of doom. The creatures pounced on their prey, which now included both soldiers and ritualists. Some tried to flee in horror, while others froze in mad admiration, reaching out their hands toward the darkness. Both groups met the same fate — the creatures, catching up to them and lunging, enveloped them with all six limbs in a deadly embrace, simply... vanishing from reality. Lycari trembled as she witnessed a screaming cultist, driven to madness, simply disappear along with the dark entity that had seized him as if in a vice grip. The ranks of the cultists thinned, while the number of creatures grew. There were dozens, hundreds of them, swiftly scattering in different directions away from the portal, flooding the city. The air around the square seemed to ripple—the barrier was thinning and vanishing.

***

Gedar smirked — soon the portal would stabilize, and everything around would belong to Him. The White Witch flinched again—she was unprepared for such horror, but despite that, she continued to parry his attacks. Even under the influence of potions, Gedar couldn’t inflict any injuries on her—she read him like an open book, continuing to fence with him on equal terms even at inhuman speed. She wasn’t one of the Seekers for nothing... Involuntarily, he admired her, feeling a growing respect for her — such battles were rare for the Commander, but now something greater than his honor or life was at stake, and he needed to finish this quickly. He wouldn’t give her a chance to close the portal, and His servants — they would assist him in that.

Gedar continued to strike relentlessly, pressing on Lycari and confidently parrying her rare counterattacks. Some strikes landed directly on her armor, leaving deep scratches. The Commander clenched his flaming gauntlet, heating his sword — its fiery tongues sent sparks flying, barely touching the elf’s blade. Their duel had turned into a dance — the Witch no longer relied on her sword, evading strikes with somersaults and sharp leaps to the side. And finally, His servants reached them. Gedrar felt a lightning-like jolt as the black, faceless creatures closed in — primal horror, reverence, admiration, joy, and... hope. His hope. Hope for the redemption of this world. And it was he who brought them here, following His Will...

The creatures surged forward, using all their limbs as legs, heading straight for the elf. Gedrar momentarily ceased his barrage of attacks, allowing His servants to reach their coveted prey. But to his surprise, the pale-skinned archer swiftly evaded both hounds that extended their front limbs, resembling hands, and they simply raced past her down the street, searching for other prey. The Commander launched another assault, although his strikes lost some of their confidence. They... did not consider her dangerous? Worthy? Why did they simply let her go? Or... Or was it His Will for me, His chosen one, to defeat her? Another creature charged straight at the Witch — Gedar took a step aside, allowing it to pass, but once again, she evaded, and the hound continued running. Seizing the moment, the archer darted towards the ruined houses. Gedrar understood — she wanted to reach the adjacent street where she could see the second anchor. He wouldn’t allow her.

With a sudden lunge and swing, the elf immediately fell to the ground and rolled to the side. The sword shattered and melted the cobblestones where she had been a moment ago. A step forward, a swing — the blade narrowly missed her as she stood up. Another swing — with a clatter and sparks, the sword deflected off the well-timed angled sabre. A spin, a swing — the Witch retreated, something glinting in her free hand. Gedar noticed it too late: another small orb she threw in his direction landed right at his feet, and from it immediately sprouted thick vines, like tenacious tendrils. He managed to sever a few, but the rest wrapped around his hips, belt, and right hand, immobilizing his movements and preventing him from using the magic of his sword. The Witch fled towards the ruins.

***

This entanglement wouldn’t last long, but the gained time should be enough to deal with the remaining anchors. Once again gripping her bow, Lycari agilely leaped over molten debris and blazing wreckage. The other street was also swarming with black creatures. The air around them crackled and vibrated, and their movements were straightforward — they only lunged forward, attempting to capture their prey. As soon as she evaded them, the creatures lost all interest in her elf and continued their march, seeking other victims.

The archer’s heart pounded with urgency — every second of delay meant lives at stake. She had to end this as quickly as possible! She saw the barrier around the square disappear and hoped that a couple of arrows would be enough to rid the waking nightmare — the creatures, fueled by the portal, should vanish once it closed, and battling them was futile. She positioned herself in the middle of the street, took aim, and fired at the towering anchor-pillar on the deserted square. After that, there would be one more hidden behind the portal arch — she needed to replace a way to circumvent the square to destroy it. But the first arrow didn’t reach its target — it barely crossed the boundary of the square when a three-pronged tendril lunged out of the portal, intercepting it mid-flight before slipping back into the gaping abyss. Lycari was horrified once again. She released a few more fire arrows, each met by different tendrils, and the elf began to lose hope. In a frenzy, she fired several regular arrows after the fiery ones, and to her surprise, the tendrils didn’t react. But upon realizing this, Lycari couldn’t help but smile at her conjecture. Magic! They react to magic! She just needed more arrows to shatter the pillar. The archer was prepared to shoot when faintly, from the direction of the ruined buildings, magical words reached her.

— Lem-bata-mitar!

The debris partially hindered the onslaught of flames, providing Lycari with a couple of precious moments. She had to step back cautiously to avoid accidentally stumbling upon the dark creatures. The Commander, clad in blackened armor with a blazing blade, appeared next to her once again. The archer hadn’t managed to release her arrow, and she had to parry the initial attacks with her bow. It cracked under the fierce onslaught of the cultist’s strikes, and Lycari hurriedly attempted to toss it aside. The knight seemed to anticipate this and swiftly removed his left hand from the sword hilt, delivering a powerful strike to the elf’s right hand. The bow flew out of her grasp. A darkening bruise started to form on her pale forearm where the heavy blow landed. Fortunately, the Commander found it difficult to hold the scorching sword with his burned hand. Lycari managed to retrieve her sabre before the cultist resumed his barrage of attacks. Now without her bow, she frantically devised a new plan... and decided to take a risk.

— Being called Fire Commander does not make you non-flammable, doesn’t it?

***

He managed to deprive her of a few more chances to get rid of the anchors, but the battle is not over yet. Gedar won’t rest until the portal is fully open. They need to hold on a little longer, and now this Witch has opened her mouth too. Does she not take their duel seriously? Gedar tightened his flaming gauntlet, fueling the sword with an even stronger stream of fire. After the fight, he would have to tend to his hand — he clearly felt how the skin literally peeled off from it, how his muscles were baked, his bones were exposed, it became so much harder to hold the sword... But he wouldn’t allow himself to react to the pain, wouldn’t allow himself to feel it. That would come later, now he needed to eliminate the Elf, at any cost. She is too dangerous.

— Just four times? And that’s the acclaimed power of the Eklat that destroyed the Southern Steppe army?

The Commander gritted his teeth, maintaining the pressure. The Witch was clearly provoking him for something.

— Without potions, you wouldn’t last a minute!

Don’t react to her. Just crush her.

— Using the flaming gauntlet to fuel the sword with fire is quite clever.

Strike, strike, strike!

— And that’s the only thing that elevated your rank so high?

How does she manage to talk so much during a battle?

— Without magic trinkets - you humans are just nothing.

As if this Witch could do much without them!

— Looks like your god is short on champions since he chose you as his protector.

Gedar began to put even more power into his strikes, losing speed and technique, but all he wanted now was to crush the stubborn archer, split her head, cut off her tongue, or to make her burn in the fire.

— Perhaps he made a mistake choosing you? Or your god is a mistake itself?

— Shut up. Shut up!

What is her saber made of? Eklat swords would have shattered long ago under such strain, but this one... He needed to finish off this White Witch as quickly as possible. She surely has something planned and is distracting his attention. They were right in the middle of the street, and Gedar gathered his strength to once again unleash the full force of his sword, the Dragon’s Tongue. Now that she no longer had a bow to perform any tricks, he could allow her to create some distance. For a few moments, he slowed down his pressure even more, carefully transferring the flames from the gauntlet to the blade, allowing the elf to gain some distance. He even let a couple of her attacks pass, grating against his armor. Finally, when the Witch was about a meter and a half away, he tightly clenched his weakened hand around the sword and, thrusting it forward sharply, shouted the magic words.

— Lem-bata-mitar!

Burn!

But instead of being surprised or flinching away from the flames erupting from the blade, the elf swiftly launched an attack. So quickly that for a moment, Gedhar thought he was hallucinating. She maneuvered at an angle to his attack and, with a sharp strike, slashed her sword against his burnt hand where he had knocked her bow. Gedar managed to hold onto his sword, but it was sent off course: the pain finally broke through the barrier of his consciousness. Along with the pain came a sense of surprise and... the realization of his mistake.

The flames burst out of the sword with monstrous force. It was incredibly difficult to control it with just one hand, even when it was in pristine condition. But now, the momentum of the elf’s strike sent his hand back, nearly dislocating his shoulder. He had to spin around... and the fiery storm passed through the entire street straight into the square. The black creatures stood out amidst the flames, emerging like dark stones jutting out from beneath the sea waves. They were as unaffected by the flames as the stones were indifferent to water. But what was worse was that the tendrils couldn’t stop such a wave of fire. It simply swept through and demolished the second anchor, reaching all the way to the arch of the portal. The gaping abyss seemed to suck the magical flames into itself, halting the raging stream. Only one anchor remained... Yet they needed more time!

Hatred and fury filled Gedar’s heart. With a loud warrior cry, he swiftly turned around, gripping the sword with both hands again. Rage overshadowed the pain, and the elf was bombarded with strikes of unprecedented strength. Her saber finally started cracking under the pressure: a few more blows, and the Witch would be defenseless. But she once again switched to the offensive, deflecting his strike to the side. It was her fatal mistake. She exposed herself from the right side, frozen for a moment in a long lunge, but that moment was enough for him. Releasing the sword with his left hand, he allowed the momentum to carry him while simultaneously drawing his dagger for the decisive strike.

But at that moment, a crack in the air sounded behind him. In the heat of his fury, Gedar failed to notice the approaching dark creature. His sword and the elf’s saber — both landed directly in the embrace of the creature from the abyss, disappearing, dissolving into its body, almost up to the guards. Furthermore, the remaining magical energy in the sword was abruptly released in a fiery explosion, shattering the Dragon’s Tongue into fragments and completely obliterating Gedar’s right hand. But that didn’t stop his dagger, though it disrupted his attack. The dagger sliced slightly higher than intended. A bloody pattern bloomed on the elf’s face, streaming down from the bridge of her nose, where a nearly black, deep gash cut straight through both eyes.

Now she has no chance of winning. He has triumphed. All that remains is to finish her off.

— Lycari... the Sharp-Sighted. Not so sharp-sighted anymore, huh?

He didn’t launch an attack immediately. With the dagger in his left hand, Gedar approached the defenseless Witch, shocked, her face covered in a stream of crimson blood, trying to shield the remnants of her eyes. He could use some help to stop the bleeding as well. Despite the explosion that cauterized the wound, little remained of his right hand.

— You have lost. As you can see, my God was not mistaken in choosing me, — there was no rush anymore, the portal was about to stabilize, — It was a good fight, a glorious end to your life.

It seemed to him that the Witch burst into tears — her body twitched as if in convulsions.

— But I have no qualms about depriving you of eternal rest in His kingdom.

***

Darkness enveloped everything. Blood streamed down Lycari’s face, and she couldn’t stop it. She had miscalculated, and it would cost her life. But not now. Now she still had a chance to win. Another plan, another idea, emerged in her mind — a final opportunity to destroy the remaining anchor. It would require luck, undoubtedly luck. She chuckled softly to herself as she finally worked out all the details — she could have ended it all earlier, much earlier, even before this horror began if she had shot at a different target. But it wasn’t too late yet — she would rectify this mistake.

As long as she had a little more time... and a bit of luck.

She heard the Commander approaching her, as a few more dark creatures walked not far behind him. Now her acute hearing was her primary guide. But she had another card up her sleeve — to memorize everything she saw. She could navigate flawlessly even with her eyes closed, and the Commander wouldn’t have the strength for another serious assault. It was time to act — the cultist was getting closer.

— Tell me, Commander, was there a good harvest this year?

— Is that all you want to say in your final moments, Witch?

Well, how would he know. He wasn’t a local, after all... The Commander prepared for the decisive strike, but Lycari easily evaded it.

— Don’t make your death even more agonizing!

Another lunge — the dagger sliced through the charred armor, tearing it near the shoulder. The elf darted aside, evading the next blow and narrowly avoiding two black creatures.

— No! Stop! What are you...

She ran straight to where her bow had fallen. The Commander was only a few steps behind, but she should have enough time. A couple of final shots... As long as the bow held, her hands held, and a little luck...

Another black creature. She was about to end it all — snatching up the bow as she dropped to her knees, Lycari nocked an arrow and pulled the string taut — the bow creaked but held. Her hands throbbed with pain, but she forced herself to ignore it. Shot! Another one! And another! And now the last one—a flaming arrow! Another surge of pain — cold steel of the dagger pierced her left side, but it no longer mattered. Somewhere in the distance, behind the portal, she heard her arrow strike the grain tower. The second arrow shattered the brick even more, the third pierced through it, and then...

Luck finally smiled upon her. An explosion akin to the Dragon’s Tongue flame roared right behind the portal — the brickwork scattered, crashing into the walls of nearby houses. But it didn’t guarantee her success yet...

— No! No! No!!!

The Commander froze, unable to believe what had just happened, unable to deliver the finishing blow. And that was meant something - the explosion or the bricks had indeed shattered the last anchor, and the portal was closing. She wished she could see it with her own eyes — the darkness retreating, its creatures vanishing... But she was unlikely to see anything now. She had no strength left; this was the end. Lycari heard the cultist regain his composure, preparing to strike. She turned to him, a smile on her blood-soaked face.

— I have won, ‘chosen one’.

***

Gedar couldn’t believe what had happened. He couldn’t lose. He simply couldn’t lose! But now, all their years of effort lay amidst the rubble, and only the black arch, cracked from the uncontrollable energy of the unstable portal, loomed over the burning square. There was nothing left. Overwhelmed with despair and hatred, Gedar swung his dagger with all his might, aiming for the blood-stained white neck of the elf. He didn’t have enough strength to sever her head completely; she just collapsed onto the scorched cobblestones, her face frozen with a smile on it.

— There’s no place for you even in the Abyss, Witch!!! May you be cursed!

He had failed his mission. He had let Him down. He couldn’t fulfill His Will. But... had he at least sated Him? Even a little? Had he not completely failed? Was he still the Chosen One? The Preacher... The Preacher would tell him what to do next, guide him on the right path, show him how to fulfill His Will. A sudden thought pierced his mind.

— Fridrod... The girl with the blade... The blade! I must replace the blade! I must... Argh!

Excruciating pain pierced his right shoulder. He had never felt anything like it before. No wound, no matter how severe, had ever caused him such agony. The Mark seemed to come alive and began devouring him, as if his very essence, his entire being, was disappearing from this world — gradually, piece by piece. His right eye stopped seeing, breathing became difficult, and the scream of pain froze in his throat... And then, only darkness.