We failed, and now Besset is dead. Run, before you meet a similar fate.

Eliphaz didn’t wait to see what action the Nephilim would take. He turned around, heels digging into the dry earth, stumbling forward on his shaking legs. His body felt clumsy, coursing with shock as the thought of death seized his mind.

He was prepared to run as far as his feet could carry him, but something stopped his frenzied escape. A new thought caught fire within him, growing until it was all he could think of, supplanting his fears.

Where was Narina?

They had left her hidden among the trees, but in the chaos of the blast he had lost his bearings. Perhaps, Eliphaz thought, she had already escaped, running away as soon as the situation went awry. But that did not shake his worries.

In every direction the forest surrounded him, an indecipherable mass of shadows. His vision would be of no use in finding her, and time wasn’t on his side.

Eliphaz sent his senses through the ground, combing through the web of roots that ran across the forest floor. He held his breath, desperate to find some sign of the girl. Every second felt vital as it slipped away, yet Eliphaz could not tear himself from his task.

In the far-right corner, in the direction which he had come, he found her. Or rather, the impression of something that was either a person or an oddly shaped rock, resting behind a fallen log. Worse, the Nephilim was not far-off now. It continued to move, slowly but surely, and if Eliphaz were to backtrack—their paths were sure to cross.

It was a risk he had to take. Retracing his steps, he ran back. His steps no longer wavered, his mind felt clear, new-found purpose replacing his panic. The Nephilim was close, Eliphaz could sense it trudging through the trees, its limbs scraping against the earth. Narina had said the creature’s sight was poor, that it would not find them so easily. He hoped she was right.

He found her behind a fallen log, as he’d expected. The tree was scorched on one side, and Eliphaz imagined Narina must’ve been running away before the blast of light knocked her over. Thankfully, the trunk had sheltered her from the worst of the explosion, and now Eliphaz looked down on her frail, protected form. She breathed slowly, her face pale and bloodless. Her eyes were open but blank, caught in a trance of shock.

“Wake up!” he hissed, grabbing Narina by her shoulders. She blinked at him and her lips fluttered, but otherwise did not respond, her body still limp in his arms.

Eliphaz felt the Nephilim’s demeanor shift. Its gait changed, suddenly much more rapid even as it careened from side to side. Each step echoed in the earth as it bounded toward them. They’d been found.

He no longer had time to wake Narina, they needed to leave now. Mustering his strength, Eliphaz wrapped his arms around her waist, half-lifting, half-pulling her as he tried his best to run. The pair tumbled through the woods, branched fingers tearing at their skin and clothes.

The Nephilim quickly gained on them. When Eliphaz glanced back, he could just barely make out its form in the shadows, the pale cracks of silver that covered its skin. He heard its labored pants of frustration. Narina stirred in his arms, still too weak to walk.

His mana was nearly gone, but it was Eliphaz’s last chance at escape. He summoned one final vine, wrapping it along the creature’s leg as it strode forward.

Mana low! 2/30 points remain

The Nephilim was caught by surprise, falling into a boneless heap. The cracks along its skin began to brighten, glowing with menacing light.

Eliphaz turned away, pouring every ounce of his energy into increasing the distance between him and the creature. Lifting Narina off her feet, he ran as fast as he could.

It wasn’t long before he felt a wave of heat from behind, steadily increasing until he could feel nothing but the searing sensation of his skin beginning to boil. For a moment his vision went black, and when it returned he found himself flying through the air, propelled by a shockwave of energy.

He fell, hitting the ground hard just as feeling returned to his body. His throat was suddenly parched, forcing Eliphaz to squeeze out hacks of breath from his wheezing lungs. He had lost any sense of time, the rush of sensation overwhelming him, all varying degrees of pain that preoccupied every exposed part of his body. He felt the pinpricks of earth beneath his palms, digging into his raw, red skin—

A hand grabbed his shoulder, lifting Eliphaz out of his daze. He looked up.

It was Narina. Her face looked a deep scarlet in the night, her skin dry and covered with bubbling welts. She was smeared with dirt and a trickle of blood ran down her left temple. Every breath, every trembling movement betrayed her exhaustion, yet her eyes still burned with urgency.

“Get up,” she said, and Eliphaz didn’t hesitate.

Hands clasped in desperation, they ran. Through the desiccated forest, pushing past brambles and saplings, broken branches and hanging moss. They were utterly lost, blindly moving forward as all else blurred past. The only hope Eliphaz felt was in the small hand he gripped with all his strength; whatever their fate, they would face it together.

Their escape couldn’t last long: their limbs were tired, their throats parched, their bodies in shock. Seeking refuge, they crawled into a hole left by an uprooted tree; its roots hung over them, solid earth still clinging to the tree’s base. Trying his best to hide, Eliphaz pushed himself against the wall of earth, his heart pounding violently in his chest as he gasped for air. With his hands he showed Narina how to cup the dirt, squeezing precious drops of moisture onto his lips.

“We can’t keep running forever,” Narina said, clutching her abdomen.

They couldn’t. Pain coursed through Eliphaz’s body, and he feared his legs would fail if he tried to stand again.

“Will it find us here?” he asked.

“It will. It already has.” Narina winced in pain as she let out a morbid laugh. “By the gods, we were so foolish. To think we could challenge that divine...thing.”

“At least we tried. We almost had a chance. Besset was so close, you should have seen him. Before, well—”

“Before it all went wrong.”

Their eyes briefly met. Eliphaz smiled, trying not to think of the monster that stalked the forest, moving ever closer.

“I promised you we would stick together,” he finally said, “no matter what happened.”

“When I said no matter what, this isn’t what I imagined.” Narina sighed, her eyes overtaken by gloom. “To think I believed in fate. In the end it was just a false hope. My parents always told me I had some special purpose, but my fate proved no different.” She shuddered with horror. “Perhaps this was always the divine will; that I would be with mother and father again, not in life or death, but as blood, mingling inside that ghastly creature—”

“Narina, it’s alright,” Eliphaz murmured, trying his best to comfort her. He pulled her close, wiping the blood off her forehead with his hand.

Suddenly, Narina froze. She stared with intent at Eliphaz’s blood-smeared hand, as if struck by revelation.

“What is it?” Eliphaz asked.

Narina didn’t respond. Instead, she reached over Eliphaz, toward the sheath on his belt.

The Sword of Lamech.

It glinted weakly under the night sky, shaking slightly in Narina’s untrained hands. She stood up, limping as she crawled out from under the roots, dust falling from her shoulders.

“Narina, what are you doing?” Eliphaz whispered. For a moment he was too stunned to react, before he too struggled his way to his feet.

Narina was already well on her way into the darkness. She didn’t respond. She didn’t look back. Her path was set.

—

The sword was heavy in her hands, the cool metal pressed so tightly against her palm that she could feel the rapid beat of her own pulse. Narina staggered on, each step deliberate and painful.

This had to work, she thought, it had to. She looked down at her sword.

Inventory

The Sword of Lamech:

“If Cain shall be avenged sevenfold, truly Lamech seventy and sevenfold.”

This sword grants a [Strength] bonus of +77, but only if the target is related to the user by blood. Be warned that the use of this weapon may incur the wrath of God.

It had seemed so hopeless, with no way out of her nightmare. But then the solution came to her, and the pieces fell into place: why Eliphaz had saved her, why Ishtar had led them to this godforsaken place. Narina had been the key all along, without her even realizing it.

In the distance the Nephilim loomed. It had stopped moving, regarding Narina with its blank face. It wasn’t used to its prey giving up so willingly, striding forward without an ounce of hesitation. In all its years, Narina thought, this must be a first.

The Nephilim was half-divine, virtually immortal against the weapons of men. It should be impossible to kill, and in hindsight it was clear they were destined to fail. Get too close and the monster exploded with heavenly light, devouring all in its wake. No mortal had the power to resist such an attack.

But it had one weakness, Narina realized. Years ago, it had taken everything from her, her future extinguished in a flash of light. And in the process, the monster had spilled the blood of her parents, absorbing it into its cursed and festering body. If Narina was right, if even a drop of that blood remained, there was hope. The hope that Narina’s life had not been for nothing, and that in suffering the gods had forged her into a weapon, capable of unmaking the Nephilim. By her hand the scourge would end.

Leaving Eliphaz behind, she did not dare voice these thoughts. Her duty was too important, and she feared the boy might stop her from walking to her death. Eliphaz was strange, Narina thought. He was a person who had looked fate in the eye countless times, yet refused to acknowledge it. Whatever Narina would say, he would not believe her. She could not risk her divine purpose, not when so much was already at stake. And so she went without explanation.

The Nephilim was close now. She could smell its foul breath, see the spittle that dripped from its rotten mouth. The sky unveiled the moon, the white orb bathing the forest in pale light. The black skin of the creature glistened as Narina stood in its shadow.

It lunged forward, teeth bared, arms outstretched. Narina raised her sword. The weapon glowed with blue light, recognizing her intent. She felt it shake in her hands, vibrating with unknown energy. She swung and—

—the rock smashes against skull. It cracks, brittle like an eggshell; blood splatters his face. He does not stop. He raises his weapon above his head and brings it down again.

And again.

He dare not look at his brother’s face.

Again.

The arms, still raised in defense, fall limp. The fingers twitch one last time; blood seeps into the field.

His face is flushed with anger and shame. He feels the world itself turn toward him, a thousand eyes judging his deed. The blood on his face burns like coals when—

—with wet ichor dripping down the hilt, Narina blinked and her vision returned. The Nephilim hissed, its head hunched beneath its shoulders. She had scarred its clawed hand, which now bled profusely. The cracks on its skin began to glow with silver light.

Narina wasted no time. She lunged forward, the Sword of Lamech—

—plunges into the man’s torso, twisting through bone and emerging unvanquished. He hangs there for a moment, a red gurgle caught in his throat, before he slips off the blade without a sound.

He turns away from the man, towards the tent’s entrance. It’s flooded with light, but two figures stand on the threshold.

He moves closer, only for—

—the burning engulfed Narina. Nothing but fire raged before her eyes, and were it not for its weight in her hand, she did not know if she still held the sword.

If this is the end, she thought, pray that it was enough.

Narina blinked, and with that final thought—

—the vision returns. Back at the tent with the crumpled corpse behind her, the bloodied sword at her side.

She peers into the light. She recognizes the figures.

Mother? Father?

There is Fatima, with her thin smile and soft eyes. She keeps her hair long and unbraided, just like Narina.

And beside her is Teshat, his beard neatly kept, his arms coarse and hairy. He squints even as the light sits behind him.

Narina stands speechless. Is this the afterlife? she wonders. Am I standing at the entrance to the underworld? Her cheeks are wet.

But Mother and Father stand completely still—lifeless. Their demeanor is cold, despite the warm glow that surrounds them.

Unspeakable grief overwhelms her. To see her parents again in the flesh, yet still so impossibly distant. To think that for so many years, she tried so hard to forget they ever existed…

The sword hums at her side. She lifts it up to inspect its surface. It still vibrates with strange energy, but here (wherever she is), the language it speaks is decipherable.

Hate, rage, jealousy course along its edge.

Suddenly, all is made clear. She must uphold her promise. Like those that came before, she must slay her brother, sister, father. She must spill her own blood.

She raises the sword, letting it guide her hand. She tries to look away, but it doesn’t work. No, she must look them in the eye.

Narina raises her head.

Mother, Father...please forgive me.

—

When Eliphaz reached them, it was already over. The Nephilim’s burnt corpse lay to the side. It looked so small, so inconsequential and shriveled, he hardly noticed it.

Instead, he ran toward the little pile of burnt cloth, where Narina lay, her hand still clutching the Sword of Lamech.

He turned her over, putting his ear to her chest. Eliphaz breathed a sigh of relief: her heart was still beating, her breath weak but present.

“Thank the gods,” he whispered, shedding tears of relief.

He looked into her eyes, hoping to share his joy.

Narina opened her eyes, but there was no joy or relief. The simple action sent a jolt of pain through her face, her expression twisting into a grimace until she finally relented, shutting her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

Narina didn’t respond. Instead, she raised her arm, bringing her hand to Eliphaz’s face. By some miracle, her skin was smooth and untouched, as if their struggle against the Nephilim had been a dream.

Eliphaz took a closer look. Beneath the creases of her palm and the pores of her skin, there was something else: small, faint lines of silver, intersecting like cracks in a sheet of ice. The web of silver ran down her hand and up past the forearm.

He let go of Narina’s hand in shock, and her arm fell to the ground, completely limp.

She winced with exertion, and a blue screen appeared.

Status

The Curse of the Nephilim:

Having crossed lines no mortal should cross, you have incurred the wrath of God. Your HP will continuously decrease until the status is removed, or death.