Chương 92: Chapter 91 - The Cleansing Has Begun (4)

A tremor shook the ground behind her. She froze. Slowly, she turned. Something massive moved between the thick trees. It wasn't supposed to be here. An unfaithful? No... the shape was all wrong. It was made of dark, moss and jagged stone. Two pinpricks of violent violet light glowed where its eyes should be.

"No!" The scream ripped from her throat before she could stop it. She knew what this was. A Golem. An Unfaithful fueled by Lost Faith, something far beyond the weaklings they were supposed to kill for the cleansing. She had strayed way beyond the safe perimeter. She ran again, her pace frantic. But the Golem was fast. Unnaturally fast for its size. It crashed through the trees like they were twigs, closing the distance in seconds. It raised a heavy, stone-knuckled fist and slammed it into a thick trunk beside her.

The tree exploded into splinters. The shockwave hit her in the back like a hammer, knocking the air from her lungs and sending her sprawling forward with a pained gasp. She crawled, dirt and moss grinding into her torn robes. She had to fight. She fumbled for the ruby relic at her belt, her crutch, her shame. Her fingers closed on dust. The Golem's massive foot had pulverized it when she fell. Things had just gone from terrible to hopeless. The Golem stepped forward, its foot rising to crush her.

She rolled, a desperate, graceless movement, scrambling back to her feet. The foot came down where her head had been. The ground erupted, and the force of it knocked her off her feet again. She felt something in her side give a sickening pop. She looked back just as an iron-hard fist of packed earth and stone came swinging for her face. On pure instinct, she crossed her arms in front of her, a pathetic guard. The impact sent her flying.

She hit a tree trunk back-first, the world going white and silent for a moment before pain rushed in to fill the void. She slid down to the roots, unable to breathe, unable to think. Her right arm lay at a horrible, wrong angle. Useless. This was it. This was how that boy, the one whose broken body she'd seen earlier, had felt. The realization dawned. She was going to die. Here, in this stupid, glowing forest, for a stupid mission that didn't matter. What had she done to deserve this? Tried to help someone?

Tried to rebuild her family's name? Had faith that things could get better? Tears blurred her vision, mixing with the blood on her face. She was so sorry.

"Sorry, Brian, for being weak."

"Sorry, Garfield, for losing my temper."

"Sorry, Lucid, for dragging you into my mess."

"Sorry, little sister, for making you believe that your big sister is doing good at the grand academy of Vex."

"Sorry, Father, for failing." She had always had faith. Faith in her studies. Faith that hard work mattered. Faith in the good in people, even when they showed her none. And a new, fragile faith that maybe, with Lucid's strange, quiet strength, things at the academy could tilt, just a little, toward something better. She had clung to that simple, abstract thing: faith. As the Golem loomed over her, those two violet lights fixing on her broken form, she closed her eyes.

Not in prayer, but in utter, defeated acceptance. Then she felt it. A tingling. Not in her good hand, but in the center of her chest. A warmth that was not her own. She opened her eyes. A spark of purple light appeared in the air between her and the Golem. It was small, no bigger than a marble. Then it grew. It sucked in the dim light of the dead forest, pulling at the very air. It swelled into a ball of shimmering, majestic violet flame, roiling and spinning, growing larger with every passing second.

More than that, she could feel it. The ambient energy in the air, the fading life of the blue moss, the lingering echoes of fate essence from past fights, even the cold, wrong energy radiating from the Golem itself, it all streamed toward the purple orb. She wasn't creating it. She was... gathering it. Focusing it. A conduit for a miracle she didn't understand. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

The Golem, now only a couple of meters away, raised its fist for the final blow. Mary didn't have the strength to stand. Her body was shattered. But her will, that stubborn, foolish faith, was a single, sharp point. She fixed every ounce of it on the monstrosity before her. Every hope, every fear, every apology, every dream of rebuilding her house. She poured it all into the swirling vortex of purple fire.

She didn't speak, she touched it with her bad hand her broken wrist and hand pointing towards the ground reaching for the ball of flame. She just willed it. The orb shot forward. The dim blue forest vanished, swallowed by a blinding, actinic purple light. It was like a small sun had ignited in the clearing. The Golem was silhouetted for an instant, a dark, jagged figure at the heart of a majestic, roaring inferno of violet flame. Then the light consumed everything.

The flames roared, a brilliant, all-consuming purple. For a moment, the dark silhouette of the golem stood motionless within the heart of the inferno as the fire spread, licking at the blue grass and dead branches, painting the dim woods in violent, majestic light. Had she done it? Was this her Awakening? Had she become a Latent? She didn't care. Her eyes remained fixed on the golem. It took a step forward. Through the depths of the purple hellfire. A step. Then another. Hopeless.

Even with all her gathered hope, faith, and desperate energy, it wasn't enough. It wasn't even close. A sob hitched in her ruined chest. She let her good arm fall to the ground, the last of her strength gone. She closed her eyes, accepting it. CLANG! Her eyes snapped open. A figure stood between her and the monster, having just knocked the burning golem back several meters with a powerful, ringing blow.

"Luc... Lucid?"

"RUN! PLEASE! YOU'LL DIE!" she tried to scream, but it came out as a ragged croak. He held his spear in a low, ready stance. He was no match for it. He couldn't be. It was C+ rank, her analytical mind registered dully, even through the haze of pain. He glanced back at her over his shoulder. Then, in one swift motion, he slid a hand under her back and leapt into the air, carrying her with him. The movement was shockingly gentle despite its urgency. They landed a dozen meters away.

She collapsed, her broken limbs screaming, a fresh trickle of blood warm on her lip. She managed only a faint, pained whimper.

"Here." A small vial appeared in her blurry vision. A healing potion.

"Don't ask... I stole this from Brian," Lucid said, his voice flat. With trembling fingers, she took it and brought it to her lips. A cool, mint-like liquid slid down her throat. Instantly, a soothing warmth spread through her body. The sharpest pains receded, knitting together the worst of the damage. She could breathe again.

"Can you do that again?" he asked, not looking at her, his eyes on the golem which was now turning, shrugging off the last of her purple flames. She looked around. Her staff was broken, halved, but the crystal tip was still intact. She could still feel it—that weird, ambient energy in the air. A faint, desperate hum.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Good." He finally glanced at her.

"Whatever that was, I'm gonna need it again. Because I plan on handicapping myself." She stared, confused. He tossed her a small, glowing blue stone.

"Fate essence restoration stone. Congratulations, looks like you're officially a Latent. Now get up." The golem charged. Its huge frame, scarred and smoking, barreled toward Lucid with ground-shaking force. Lucid, holding a low stance, didn't retreat. At the last second, he stepped to the side and drove his spear forward with all his might. The tip screeched across the creature's iron-hard rocky carapace, sending a shower of sparks and chipped stone into the air. Useless. His attack seemed useless. But...

rocks were chipping off. The golem turned, impossibly fast, and swung a backhand. Lucid brought his spear up in a parry. The impact shuddered through him, but he held. Another swing. Another parry. A third blow knocked him off balance, sending him skidding back.

"No!" Mary yelled. She didn't think. She raised her broken staff, focusing on that strange ambient energy. She funneled it, pulling from the scorched air, from the fading purple embers, from the very malice of the golem itself. A smaller, but still potent, ball of violet fire shot from her staff and exploded against the golem's chest before it could strike Lucid again. Engulfed once more, the creature staggered.

Lucid recovered, and for a split second, Mary saw it—a quick, sharp smile behind the mist that shrouded his face. Then he drove his spear into the ground, using it as a pole to vault himself forward, flipping through the air to land on the golem's back. Where had he learned such a move? She thought, stunned, as he wrapped his legs around its stone neck. The golem flailed, trying to dislodge him.

Lucid raised both hands high and brought them down in a devastating blow, not with the spear, but with his fists, directly onto the two luminous purple spots that were its eyes. The creature shuddered violently. It stopped. Then, with a furious roar, it reached back, grabbed Lucid, and hurled him to the ground, raising a foot to crush him. Again! She had to do it again! She fired another burst of purple fire, her vision swimming, consciousness threatening to slip away. She stumbled, barely staying upright.

It was enough. The blast distracted the golem for the critical second Lucid needed to roll away and scramble back to his feet. He deflected another swing, countered with a jab to a cracked joint, danced back from a stomp. It was as if he was holding back. She couldn't quite name it, but she could see it. His movements were efficient, sharp, but there was a rawness to them, like he was fighting with one arm tied behind his back. He wasn't using any fate essence she could see, no glow.

It was just him, a spear, and a terrifying, stubborn refusal to die. And he was keeping the monster's attention entirely on him, every second, giving her time to breathe, to focus, to gather that strange, desperate power one more time. He was handicapping himself...