Midnight Bounties 4 - Chapter 28

The Magister’s Bridge was the demarcation line between the King’s forces and Nergat’s new Green Tide. Armed soldiers stood at both ends of the large stone bridge that crossed the Darvas River. On the other side was the Glade, one of the richest parts of town, while the orcs guarded what was once home to the Borough’s Kids. A dilapidated part of Sankta Varath that somehow managed to improve by being bombarded with Quinta trebuchets.

I saw the glinting armor of the First Army soldiers looking my way as I stood among the orcish barricades. Nergat’s men didn’t ask any questions, but I was sure the king’s soldiers would, so I rode over the bridge slowly holding both arms up. A score of bows was aimed at me and half as many mages were cooking spells, ready to hit me with every element in the book if I made a wrong move.

“Who are you? What do you want?” I heard a First Army captain shout as I was halfway there.

“Frank Midnight, I have business in the Glade, Captain. I don’t mean no harm to any of you. I was a footman in the Third.”

The soldiers looked wearily at each other. I knew they had all seen the demi-god notification in their Deeproot. This wasn’t a fight they were too eager to take so I tried to be as non-threatening as possible. There was no reason to harm any of those men.

“They say you’re a traitor to the King, Frank Midnight.”

So word had spread quickly. Nergat’s work was truly something, and I made a mental note to pay him back in kind when all was said and done.

“All I want is to talk to Castelian Fair.”

“Castelian the Dreadweaver?”

The captain’s words croaky and laced with fear.

“The very same, Captain. Now you know I don’t really need you to let me through,” I said, referring to the demi-god threat that was probably screaming into their Deeproot as I neared. “But I’d much rather you did. I think you have enough enemies already.”

The weathered captain looked around nervously.

“I should arrest you, Frank Midnight.”

The balls on that guy. He knew I could cut through him and his company like butter. Just my luck. On the rare occasions when I found an honorable Sankta Varathian, he looked down his blade at me. Even when he knew it would be his death.

“What’s your name, Captain?”

“Plankwood.”

“Alright, Captain Plankwood. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to teleport behind you and be on my way. There is nothing you can do to stop me. You’ll be glad you and your men survived meeting me and you won’t alert anyone about my presence. I don’t need a bunch of soldiers who should be at the wall chasing after me. I’ll go to the Glade, meet with Castelian if he’s there, and then I’ll come back this way again. Is that clear?”

A grey-haired sergeant whispered something into Plankwood’s ear. The Captain scoffed and bit his lip. I had no intention to wait it all out so I simply used (Rift Walk) to appear behind the barricade as I promised. I looked over my shoulder at their terrified faces,

“We good here, Captain?”

“We good, Frank Midnight,” the sergeant answered.

Only then did I realize who it was. Sergeant Bellwater from my unit back in the day. How he didn’t die at the Nine Fingers was beyond me. Perhaps he was transferred to the First in the meantime.

“Good to see you, Fin,” I said.

“Frank,” he spoke seriously. “Don’t cause us trouble.”

“You have my word, Sergeant. My fight isn’t with the people of Sankta Varath,” I said, still looking over my shoulder.

As I was about to look down the street and spur Wolf on, something flashed before my eye. A crude blackness filled my vision. I felt something hard meet my face and lift me off the saddle. The force of impact sent me flying backwards and I crashed into the wall of a nearby house, breaking through it. I tumbled through a living room as stone, wood, and other debris rained around me. I finally ground to a halt on all fours.

Someone screamed to my right. I got up shaking the dust off my shoulders and face and looked around. An elf family was standing around me frozen in shock.

“What the fuck,” I muttered rubbing my face.

My bones felt rattled, and my teeth hurt. I wiped blood from my mouth and grunted.

“Please! We have gold, please take whatever you want!” some elven geezer cried, holding his hands together as if in prayer.

“Piss off, elf,” I waved them away and took to the Frank-shaped hole I came in through.

Dust from the impact spread like a cloud all around me as I stepped back into the street. Wolf came running at me.

“I’m scared!” he yelled into my mind.

I rubbed the side of his head and told him to stay where he was. I had a fairly good idea of what and who just happened to me.

There, in the middle of the street was a tall, broad. He stood proudly with a fur cloak billowing in the wind. The giant mace in his hand was crackling with power as black tendrils gathered around its shaft and even on the ground near its head. His face was set in a deep frown, the red-green armor glistening in the moonshine.

“You owe me, Frank Midnight!”

The voice was like rolling thunder.

“Castelian Walks!” his sycophants chanted a few feet behind him.

Tarnia, his angry gome mage friend, was nowhere to be seen, only the Dreadweaver had come to meet me. Good, at least I didn’t have to look for him for too long.

“Motherfucker, you sucker punched me!” I shot back, adjusting my jaw.

God slayer or not, Castelian’s mace packed quite the punch.

“You made me wait for you! Nobody makes me wait, demi-god,” he said and spat on the ground.

Somehow, I felt like he wasn’t impressed with my title or the Deeproot warning if he even got one.

Fair enough.

“Fuck you! Where’s Tyfus?”

“Who’s Tyfus?”

The worst part of his question was the fact he was asking me sincerely.

“The gnome mage, you bastard!”

“Oh, right. He wasn’t even that bad. Not as strong as Snowdog, but he delivered some entertainment.”

“Where is he!”

“I left him in Tarnia’s care.”

“So he’s alive?”

Castelian tightened his grip on Kagon’s Hand, the two-handed mace he wielded in one hand. Power radiated off him sending dust swirling around his feet.

“I didn’t come to chat with you about gnomes, Frank Midnight. You’ve disrespected Castelian Fair. After I kill you, I’ll stretch your dead body across that bridge like a tent!”

I looked back at the bridge where the king’s soldiers stood watching us. Nobody spoke, not even a murmur could be heard from the barricades. Everyone was holding their breath, terrified to the core.

“Fine, then don’t talk. Just die,” I said and (Rift Walked) into his face.

The Dreadweaver didn’t see that coming. I slashed both swords across his red-green breastplate, the blades sinking into the steel and the force of impact sent him staggering backward.

He pushed off his right and charged forward almost instantly, then planted his armored fist in my forehead and sent me flying. I spun in the air once then landed on my feet, raising both swords, expecting his mace.

I was right, Kagon’s Hand came crashging down on me, the head crackling with tremendous power. Traitor and Mercy caught it mid-air and the weight of the attack pushed my boots into the stone, cracking it.

He pulled the mace back and swung it at my side. I had no time to react. The heavy head slammed into my ribs and sent me flying for a third time. I bashed against the side of yet another house, cracking the stone wall, dropped to a knee, and coughed out blood.

“God Slayer!” Castelian roared. “You’re pathetic!”

I touched the side of my armor. It was cracked and my ribs were definitely broken. Holy shit. What was that? What was this power? How could I have been so overconfident? He had slain one of the Three of Steel, after all, and I went for him without any preparations.

I gritted my teeth more angry with myself than the cursed asshole coming at me. He seemed awfully sure that I was done already. Well, I hadn’t even started.

I turned on (Morgefah’s Favor) and (Demon Skin). A wave of power erupted from where I stood, sweeping dust and debris away from me. Castelian stopped for a moment.

I activated (Rift Walk) again to appear behind him, slashed against his back and sliced through the fur cloak of his, biting into the armor deep. He spun around, swinging Kagon’s Head. I ducked and hammered the pommel of my sword into his stomach. Before he knew what had happened, I followed up with a flurry of my own attacks. He parried some, ate a blade to the Nest Mother’s head on his shoulder, slicing it off, then another against his forearm.

“Die!” Castelian roared, raising his hammer and readying for a strike.

I (Rift Walked) away and he slammed it into the cobbles where I stood a heartbeat ago, tearing through it like wooden sticks. Rocks and debris flew in all directions, and rained down everywhere around us.

I charged his side, but Castelian turned with unnatural speed. He raised his free hand and clutched it into a fist. Black tendrils erupted from the ground and coiled around my feet.

I staggered and dropped to the ground cursing.

“Die!” he roared again as I lay on my side.

The mace came down at me, crackling, and tearing through the air. The head slammed into my breastplate and an explosion of power rocked the surroundings. Weakened walls crashed into the ground from the blastwave. I felt my insides scream as the (Demon Skin) cracked and then my armor. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. All I knew in that moment was pain.

“Die!” he yelled once more raising Kagon’s Head again.

“The fuck—” I barked and used what little sense I had to (Rift Walk) away from the follow up. The mace struck the ground, sending more shards of cobble and stone flying every which way.

As I reappeared a few feet away from him I doubled over, grabbing onto my chest and trying to push air into my lungs. I realized my Blackmaw Warward armor was shattered beyond use so I undid the straps and let it clank to the ground. I took a deep breath and straightened out. That was one hell of a hit I just took. A few months ago that would have probably turned me into fine red mist.

Fucking tendrils. Castelian fought dirty, no question about it.

“Why won’t you die?” he roared like a maddened animal.

“Because—You,” I said between breaths. “Hit like a girl!”

The Dreadweaver let out a bestial bellow. He was easy to anger. A weak mind behind a mountain of muscle.

“Castelian Fair will end you!” he roared.

There it was, addressing himself in third person again for some reason. I chuckled, feeling my ribs and insides protest. This enraged him even further.

Castelian tightened his fists, and I felt the air crackle with power. More black tendrils snaked across his body and began spreading around the destroyed cobble. I heard a bony crack as his arms and legs contorted and twisted then suddenly bulged. The ground beneath my feet began to tremble. Spikes erupted across his shoulders and arms and the Dreadweaver suddenly bulked up, growing in size. His armor seemed stretched across his new, larger body that was pulsating with power. A cold wind blew and his eyes lit up with a glacial blue.

He grinned with a murderous confidence.

“Be humbled,” he said, his voice even deeper than before. “You are among the few who see Castelian Fair how he truly is.”

I wiped more blood from my face.

“Humbled,” I said, pushing air through my nose. “Who are the others? Your mom?”

“How dare you!” the Dreadweaver roared.

He charged me in a flash of black lightning that left a trail of destroyed ground in his wake. He was a powerhouse like nothing else I had ever met and I was sure that attack would have probably broken plenty of bones had I not used (Rift Walk) to vanish and reappear high in the air above him.

I used (Final Contract) sending a massive blastwave in all directions that boomed above Sankta Varath louder than any explosion. I felt my bones crack and rearrange, and wings erupt from my back. Two large horns spurted from my forehead as the power of transformation coursed through every fiber of my being.

Castelian craned his neck, looking at me like a confused dog. I spared no words, instead I flapped my wings and speared down at him with Traitor and Mercy ready to skewer him.

The Dreadweaver braced for the impact, bellowing curses at me as his sycophants chanted his stupid name. They weren’t even trying to run, the idiots.

Just as I was about to slam into him, I activated (Waltz of Death) turning into a fiery storm of white and purple lightning and blades. I tore into him in a hail of death and the explosion of power flung roofs off housing and walls collapsing in a wide area around us.

My blades flashed and sliced across him, tearing pieces of armor, flesh, and even cutting through bone in several places.

As the (Waltz of Death) ended, I flapped my wings one more time and tackled his ravaged body into a nearby armory. We crashed through thick stone walls, destroyed racks of weapons and armor came flying out the other side, bricks, mortar and debris flung towards the bridge, some landing in the Darvas River.

As I ground to a halt, Castelian helpless body bounced off the cobble several times before he rolled over on his back. His armor was torn, his face bloodied. One of his eyes was hanging by a thread and he had lost a hand. Kagon’s Head was nowhere to be seen. Black tendrils still swayed around him. Even in this state, he pushed off his good hand, trying to get up, but all he managed was to get into a sitting position and cough out blood and teeth.

“What—what happened?” He muttered, pushing back his loose eye. I walked up to him still in demon form, casting a long shadow across the Dreadweaver.

“Where is Tyfus?” I said, my voice coming out like the wrath of a demon, cinders and black smoke coming out of my mouth as I spoke. My steps left a trail of fire behind me. Castelian raised his stumpy hand as if to protect himself. I grabbed him by the throat and raised him off the ground.

“Where is Tyfus?”

“What…what happened to—to Castelian…Fair?”

“Oh, you stupid dickwart. You just got your ass kicked! That’s what happened. Now tell me where my gnome is!”

“My hand,” he said, looking at his stump. I slammed him into the ground once, then again, his head smacking against the destroyed cobble.

“Where is my gnome!”

“You—don’t ask Castelian Fair…Castelian Fair—answers to nobody.”

I punched him in the mouth, breaking more teeth. At this point his face was mostly mush. But the fucking guy still lived to be an asshole.

“Fine,” I said and dropped him on the ground.

I walked back inside the armory through the hole we made and grabbed two long spears, then returned. I picked him up by the throat again, then flapped my wings and flew up to the stone arch of the armory held up by two large columns.

“This is for Snowdog,” I said, ramming the spears through his shoulders and into the stone behind it.

“Castelian…” he mumbled.

“Dies now,” I growled, tearing the armor from his chest and then opening his insides lengthwise with Mercy. Blood and intestines fell down as Castelian Fair the Dreadweaver died for all to see.

My (Demon Contract) suddenly ended and before I plummeted down, I used (Rift Walk) to teleport on the ground. I looked up at the Dreadweaver impaled atop the armory and spat.

“Curse your fucking soul, Castelian.”

A sharp pain shot through my whole body and I held on my ribs, coughing out more blood. The fucker did a true number on me. I straightened out and grunted, looking toward the soldiers at the barricade who all stood there in shock.

“He stays there,” I yelled. “If someone even thinks about removing Castelian he’ll answer to me, is that clear?”

“Y—yes. Sure, Frank,” Bellwater said. My Deeproot was blinking with a notification. I gained a total of 50,000 experience and another level.

It didn’t matter at this point. Not really. How much stronger could I even get?

“Oh, great Frank of Midnight,” someone said behind me, and I almost took his head turning around.

Three of Castelian’s sycophants were kneeling before me and holding up Kagon’s Head, the Dreadweaver’s mace. The others stood several feet behind them, all looking pretty stirred up.

I took the mace and inspected it.

[NAME: Kagon’s Hand]

[DESCRIPTION: Kagon the Brood Prince forged this weapon from the carapaces of a thousand of his dead soldiers to defend the Nest Mother with.]

[PROPERTIES: +10 to Maces, +25 strength, +10 agility, +20 stamina.]

[KAGON’S WRATH: Attack with both hands causing 200% weapon damage in a wide area around the user.]

[KAGON’S WILL: Become the shadow of Kagon, growing in size and Increasing all your stats by 25% and armor by 100%.]

“Wolf,” I said and the deviltail came running at me. He stopped short of squashing Castelian’s sycophants but interestingly enough they didn’t flinch. I shoved Kagon’s Hand into the Vaultpack. It had plenty of interesting things to offer, but I wasn’t a mace guy, though I knew some people who were.

“You’re free to piss off,” I snapped at the hooded figures still kneeling before me.

“My lord, we are forever bound to your excellency. There is no greater honor than to announce your every step to the world.”

“I don’t need anyone to announce my steps. Really not my style.”

The fanatics looked at each other in confusion.

“But—But our purpose in life—”

“That’s a shit purpose, pal.”

“Please…” the one in the middle began.

“Alright, here’s what you’re going to do. You’ll lead me to Castelian’s place so I can find my gnome friend and then—”

“Frank walks!” they sang in unison, a sense of relief in their tone.

“No Frank walks! Just lead me there.”

They looked at each other, again unsure of what to do.

“Alright, Frank walks, whatever. Just get me there.”

The sycophants fell in line and began chanting. I looked up at Castelian one more time. He was still bleeding down onto the armory below. A creature of flesh and blood and to think he seemed like a god for all that time.

“I hope you can see this, Snowdog,” I said, getting up on Wolf and spurring him on.

“Frank walks!” the chant echoed across the Glade.