Silas’s belly tensed and pulled taut against his hips as he forged on, hardly loosening as the minutes passed. Even though this was not an unfamiliar feeling, it was one he hadn’t suffered for a while now, and additionally one he hadn’t at all missed during that period. His mind whirred with thoughts, yet none that related to his current task but rather measures and schemes he could take to escape from this situation. Truth was he was scared, frightened even, and the worst thing was he didn’t know whether he should be or not.

He was Silas Wycliffe, the Duellist, one of the strongest Sovereigns and certainly the cream of the crop on Idroa. Yet, Dahlia was a level above, and she always had been - even when he had put on a burst of speed and caught up to the other rankers in terms of strength and achievements, she had kept her lead. From the very start, when he had first seen her name on the leaderboards, he had formed an image of her, and that had only grown darker and sharper with time. But was the real Abomination as gruesome as his imagination had painted her?

It definitely looked that way when the prophet claimed she could be a one-man army given the right circumstances, which they had worked hard to avoid. Silas dearly wished the System had revealed auras during the Sovereign congregations, as at least then he would have had a better idea of Dahlia’s power, but instead he only had frightening stories and a grisly reputation to go by.

The mood among the three grounded Sovereigns was aptly sombre, Dying Light striding in silence with a set face meanwhile Aengus kept rubbing down his Dane Axe, murmuring under his breath with a glazed look. Indeed, Fayiure shared their mood above, and it was only Zitu who appeared carefree, or perhaps better said, careless, zipping ahead of them with youthful vigour.

Silas could sense that Dahlia was a bit over a mile now, past the line of trees which cordoned off this field from the meadow where she had stopped. In a matter of minutes, he would either intimately learn of death or emerge victorious, and the odds further frayed his nerves as they neared.

I can see her, Zitu told the rest. What a cheery human.

Silas groaned as he imagined her grin, her beastly, twisted smile. It was nothing compared to the monsters he had faced off, and yet the knowledge she was human underneath added a sense of perversion to the picture.

Time slowed to a trail as he became hyperaware of his body, his breath, and the wind buffeting against his back. However, despite this it simultaneously lay beyond his control as his steps paced on even as he willed them to stop for a pause, a respite, anything. But it was too late as they had already arrived, passing the line of trees, and the waiting undead entered his vision. Dahlia’s aura brushed against his senses, and he could see her clearly now, smiling dreadfully with her forearm on a zombie’s shoulder, using it as an armrest.

He had difficulty even gulping, his grip growing limp around his spear. All of a sudden, fighting the stinking horde seemed a very attractive option as opposed to being here. There was no doubt in his mind - even at this distance - that her aura was the most intense aura he had ever felt, matching his imagination’s fears. The floodgates exploded open in his mind, and he was immediately struck by a wave of dread and doubt and hopelessness. At last, his feet stopped, and the other Sovereigns stopped to the sides of him, some hundreds of metres away from their target.

“What a delicious collection you’ve brought,” Dahlia shouted, her voice easily carrying. She straightened from the zombie she was leaning on and advanced, slowly but surely. The undead followed her.

What a queer comment, Zitu answered, even as the others prepared. Silas’s fingers were shaking as he pulled out a handful of Transcendence gummies, almost dropping them, before chucking them into his mouth. One, two - that was as far as he had ever taken - three. He hesitated, then threw one more in. This was certainly well past his limit, but who cared when death was coming for him, anyway?

“I like eating,” Dahlia said with a shrug, her lips curling slyly.

That much is clear. Without warning, a lightning bolt fired down from the clear sky, striking metres from Dahlia and producing a black spot. The grass surrounding it was smoking. That was a warning shot so that we are clear.

“I appreciate it,” Dahlia said, regarding the display of magic with more curiosity than fear. She snapped her head to the sky, opening her maw as if to howl, but never did. In its place all her scales simultaneously dropped off with a click, revealing a nude, perfectly normal human body for a flash second. Then moss-like fur burgeoned out, and her physique pulled in and became leaner. A tail sprouted from her backside, and she looked at her fellow Sovereigns in the meadow with a cruel, lupine face.

For a second, the tension was high and palpable, both groups gravely watching each other, and in the next second the tension gave to pure adrenaline as Dahlia burst forward, crossing the distance at lightning-pace, pulling her arm back to claw at Aengus. Her zombies chased from behind, now hundreds of metres from their mistress.

Aengus roared and charged at her, his Dane Axe held above his shoulders for a frightening swing. But it wouldn’t hit, Silas knew, standing petrified not from fear but pleasure. The dread, the doubt, the lack of hope that he had been feeling, all of it, had disappeared before he even knew it, and now in their place was euphoria, its tempting fingers running down his skin, igniting searing tracks of ecstasy. The colours in his vision jumped at him faster than Dahlia did, and his breath cut-off as he gaped ahead.

His senses were still working, and indeed, he understood the input they were providing him. He could see that Aengus missed, that Dying Light followed up with his fists, that he too missed and that Fayiure bellowed a stream of fire onto Dahlia. It caught onto her fur, and the Abomination scampered off, batting at herself as Zitu chased her with giant icicles and lightning bolts. He could see this all, true enough, but it was all frivolous to him now, this entire fight.

The wind sliced and the fading heat from the fire splashed into him, meanwhile a strong muddy smell emanated from the ground into his nose. The grass freshened its scent, and he could smell several herbs in the vicinity. But while this was the case, his mouth tasted disgusting, just downright sickly. He spat, then once more.

Dahlia had transformed again, he knew, now into some giant amorphous form of melting flesh. She had screamed for her life before it, and yet even her piercing scream had been a superficial note to him. She swung her arms and flung her flesh, hitting Aengus and Dying Light. A heartbeat later, Dahlia was on top of the Master of War, absorbing him as he vainly struck at her. Her shoulder ate his Dane Axe, and she ate him. How curious.

Fayiure blasted the ground with consuming flames, then soared away, copying Dying Light who also cleared the area. Zitu, meanwhile, stayed and attacked, and Dahlia flung her flesh up. Of course, the eyeborn used a considerably thick mana barrier to block the projectile, but then the Abomination appeared on Zitu’s barrier, destroying her way in within seconds. Silas put this to the back of his awareness and looked forward again, spotting a mewling Aengus amongst the roaring fire. Half of his body was gone, devoured, and rest of him was frying in the heat. Funnily enough, the zombies that had been following Dahlia also ran into the area and burnt to a crisp before they could make it any further.

Suddenly, a niggling voice inside Silas’s head brought his roving attention back to Aengus. Save him!

Growling, the Duellist appeared before the Master of War with a thunderclap and thrust a healing potion into his mouth, before picking him up and launching him into the distance. The landing was not gentle. “Are you happy now?” Silas asked to no one in particular, the fire making his voice inaudible. He should have melted down from Fayiure’s eternal fire, but instead it was only a comforting heat to him.

Just like him, the others had also taken Transcendence gummies, but its effectiveness depended on perception. And it went without saying that it had a toxicity, and the others had sensibly (or not) stuck to their limits. All this flashed through Silas’s head as he stood in the fire, hazily glancing at his hands, grinning as the skin split and blood seeped out, before bubbling away. You took too much. You’re dying, the niggling voice said again, and he giggled.

You need to deal with Dahlia, it said, and he suddenly stopped laughing from confusion. “Who?” he started, before remembering who she was. But she was so insignificant, so why should he bother to deal with her? As expected, the niggling voice had no answer, so Silas began laughing again, slowly heading out of the eternal fire. The fire couldn’t find purchase on his body, but it had burnt all his clothes off, and behind him he left a long red trail as his skin became a bloody swamp from the countless cuts opening up, internal and external. His senses dulled as blood flooded their sensors, but it wasn’t worth worrying about since his aura-detecting sense still worked.

You’re dying, the voice repeated, You need to deal with Dahlia. We need to kill her.

Silas clutched his head, not from pain but rather irritation. “Who? What?” He groaned. “Fine, just shut up already.” Without fully realising it, he was suddenly back at his original position, bending low to pick up his dropped spear. Dahlia was a moderate distance away, abusing Dying Light who she had caught up with, and with a dull peal of thunder Silas was with them too. His mind was totally blank, and so his arm acted on instinct, slicing into Dahlia’s amorphous form.

She split from his blade but took no damage. However, his attack did cause her attention to shift from the Titan to Silas, and she launched herself at him. And yet when she latched onto his red, wet skin, she almost immediately fell off as he flooded her with lightning. “Just wait,” he murmured, cutting into her again, to the same effect as before. A new feeling was rising from his pits, and it was a feeling more rapturous than plain euphoria. He wanted more of it so he chopped and cut and stabbed, doing negligible damage but building up his stacks of Harrying Blows on Dahlia, aiming for Rupture’s target number.

It was the highest number he had ever seen on an organism, and yet he seemed to reach it in a flash.

Rupture - if Luminous Land is active and the target has sufficient instances of Harrying Blows stacked, you can release the stacks with a critical blow. Sufficient stacks of Harrying Blows depends on the target’s defence, base constitution, and current vitality. Rupture’s mana cost is half of your maximum mana pool.

He hadn’t used Luminous Land so far but he activated it here and followed it with Rupture, watching through his red-tinted vision as his spear stabbed once more into the bubbling blob of flesh, only this time came a dreadful screech. Silas sucked in a ragged breath and rolled his eyes back, relishing this moment of bliss. The battle-calm, the bloodlust, the rapture of murder. It took control of his mind and guided his next steps as he wanted more; he needed more.

Dying Light tried to resist, but the Titan added to Silas’s sensation with a simple chop, and Aengus was but an afterthought. Silas’s mind was operating in fractures now, lurching ahead and randomly blanking out. He needed more of this sensation; he had to fuel it and reach its peak, he just had to. Fayiure had flown too high for him to follow, and there was no one left alive in the meadow.

Dahlia Howe (human), the Abomination, has killed Zitu (eyeborn), the Arcanum.

Silas Wycliffe (human), the Duellist, has killed Dahlia Howe (human), the Abomination.

Silas Wycliffe (human), the Duellist, has killed Dying Light (drakkar), the Devastator.

Silas Wycliffe (human), the Duellist, has killed Aengus Abercrombie (human), the Master of War.

25 Sovereigns remaining.

He needed to find more life to extinguish, to steal for his own, and he needed it quick as he instinctively knew his body was breaking down from every corner, even though he couldn’t feel it in the slightest. But where could he find more people to battle and kill? The battlefield, the niggling voice reminded him, now grieving. Why was it grieving? Oh well, it was so quiet compared to the heavenly stirring of his soul.

And so towards the battlefield he went, leaving behind him a trail of his own blood. Silas was dying, sure enough, but death could wait awhile while he played.