The Last Hope

From their position at the fortified entrance to the mines, the city of Frola was a panorama of chaos. The distant, thunderous battle at the castle was a constant, terrifying drumbeat.

Then came the light.

From the direction of the knight's barracks came a magnificent explosion of gold and white. The enormous center stronghold was instantly vaporized by a pure, flawless sphere of light that spread outwards rather than a blazing, chaotic explosion. 

After a time, they felt a shockwave and then a loud, earth-shaking BOOM.

The nuns had established a tiny, safe haven close to the mine entrance among the chaos. The royal family was being looked after here after Nathan had successfully brought them.

The Queen sat on a crate, holding her two frightened children close. And on a makeshift cot beside her, covered in dust and with his arm in a sling but very much alive, was King Mae.

Bella, keeping up her calm exterior as Saint Serenya, gazed from the smoke pillar where the barracks had been to the humanitarian disaster that was developing in front of her, her mind rushing to make sense of the forces at work.

Away from the dust and the terror, Anna was resting soundly in a carefully secured tent just inside the mine's entrance. 

She was unaware of the apocalypse her new minions had just wreaked on the earth.

Although the war was won, it came at a great cost. In her human form, a little, transparent, and very worn-out Maren staggered inside the tent where Anna lay.

With a final, weary sigh, she collapsed onto the blankets beside her master, dissolving back into her sword form.

Her mana, which had peaked at over thirty-eight million during the fighting, was now a mere ten thousand.

With Anna recovering and Maren spent, it was now up to the others to manage the rest.

“Everyone! Good job for surviving, nya!!!”

A wave of pure, divine light radiated from her. The black, corrupted earth sizzled and turned back to healthy soil. The magical fires were extinguished. The last, scattered Morvanium monsters, caught in the holy light, screamed as they dissolved into harmless dust.

As the wave of purification passed over the mine entrance, Helartha cried out, collapsing to her knees as black, corrupt veins pulsed on her skin.

The seeds Yarte had planted within her were reacting violently to the holy energy.

Bella was at her side in an instant. “Hold still,” she commanded, placing a hand on the dark elf’s forehead. She gritted her teeth as she felt the seeds inside her being targeted and destroyed.

The loyalist knights watched all of this, their minds reeling. Jarce stared up at the golden comet that was the catgirl, then looked at the woman he knew as Lady Serenya, who was performing her own, smaller miracle.

Wait… his mind stuttered in confusion. If that girl is the Saint… then who is… He looked at Bella. She finished her work on Helartha and, feeling his gaze, gave him a calm, reassuring wave. It didn't make sense.

Serenya landed softly. Ars Caelus vanished.

“The war is over, nya!!” she declared triumphantly.

Ars Terran, who had been watching the mine, hefted her enormous battle axe and then pulled it down, banging it against the ground with one powerful thump. The area was swept by a great surge of green, life-giving energy, and wildflowers sprouted on the contaminated ground.

For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, the city was filled more by beastkin than that of human. 

Pietta was nearby, naively sating her curiosity by collecting intriguing-looking stones and fragments of Glimmerstone from the debris.

Suddenly, the golden sphere in Serenya’s hands pulsed violently, a surge of dark energy lashing out. 

It slipped from her grasp, rolling across the cobblestones and coming to a stop right at Pietta’s feet.

“Ue! Uh I mean... Lady Serenya, you dropped this…” Pietta said, reaching down to pick up the beautiful, pulsating object.

The moment her fingers touched the golden surface, it dissolved. The soul of Morvane turned into a viscous black liquid that slithered up her arm and plunged into her body through the corrupted, marbled skin on her cheek.

Pietta screamed. Her small body began to contort, bones cracking and reshaping.

Black, whipping tentacles erupted from her back, and her eyes burned with the ancient, malevolent red of the dark god.

“Help…” was the last word that was truly hers.

The newly formed monster lashed out, its tentacles stabbing into the crowd of evacuees, injuring dozens in a single, horrifying second.

“Everyone, stay back!!” Bella shrieked, her face a mask of horror.

It was Gaspard who reacted first. He lunged forward and struck the possessed girl's chest with a single, strong blow.  The strike sent her hurtling through the wall of a destroyed building several blocks away. 

Although the people she had hit were injured, they may still be healed because of his prompt, non-lethal action.

From the rubble, they could hear Pietta’s voice, crying out in despair. “I don’t want to do this! I don’t want to hurt my kind!!” Helartha and Serenya exchanged a horrified look; Pietta was still in there, fighting.

But then, a shadow fell over them. Ars Terran, a being of absolute preservation, would not tolerate such chaos.

She brought her massive war axe down in a single, vertical slice, cutting the monstrous form of Pietta clean in two at the waist.

But the two halves of the body did not die. They writhed, and the black tentacles stitched them back together in seconds.

At last, Terran's bored face hardened into a serious one. 

A thick, black, primordial slime sprung out from the ground and around her entire body, she lifted her axe to strike again, to completely destroy the beast but in a moment, she was sealed.

The possessed Pietta rose,

“I’m back…” Morvane’s voice rasped, a sound of dry, ancient dust. His red eyes scanned the crowd and fixed on his prize: the royal family, huddled together in terror. “Now… to find a proper vessel.”

His words were cut short as Grizellum, chanting a powerful prayer, struck him from behind with his holy staff. But Morvane was impossibly fast. He sidestepped the blow not even bothering to look. He turned his head, his smile widening as he looked at the pathetic, desperate old man.

“You are all so very, very slow,” the dark god mocked, as a dozen of his tentacles shot towards the helpless prelate.

The tentacles of the possessed Pietta shot back, not at Grizellum, but at the carnage around them. They impaled the corpses of fallen knights, of the freed dark beings who had died in the stampede, and of the monstrous portal-spawn. They dragged the bodies, living and dead, towards the small, convulsing form of the corrupted girl. The remaining Morvanium beasts, drawn by an unholy command, crawled willingly into the growing mass.

As the creature swelled, a thick, black, oily smoke poured out from its writhing surface, rising into the sky and slowly but surely covering the entire city in a rotten, stifling black sky.

Helartha located her family from her vantage point close to the mine, including her elderly grandfather, her father, and her frightened younger brother. She then stood in front of them as a lone, defiant shadow against the rising darkness.

Bella, Gaspard, Jarce, and the remaining knights launched everything they had at the growing monster. Holy light, blessed arrows, powerful physical blows—all of it sank into the creature’s quivering flesh and was simply absorbed, its only effect to make the abomination grow even more disgustingly large and powerful.

Amidst the terror, High Prelate Grizellum stood firm, his old, tired eyes filled with a final, unbreakable resolve. He knew they could not win this fight. But they could endure.

“Ingeldamu… Nennoch… my brothers,” he whispered to the wind. “Your duty is done. Mine is about to begin.”

He planted the base of his holy staff into the cobblestones and began to chant, “Orivaneia, Guardian of the Dawn, Shield of the Innocent! Grant your servant one final boon! Let my body be the vessel, my soul be the anchor! Grant your people… SANCTUARY!”

A massive, brilliant dome of pure golden light erupted from his body, expanding outwards, pushing back the black, corrupting sky and forming a shimmering, protective barrier around the mine entrance and the thousands of evacuees.

“A PEST.”

A single, massive tendril, a hundred meters long and tipped with a shard of sharpened bone, shot from the monster’s core. It pierced the golden dome as if it were made of glass. The tendril plunged directly through Grizellum’s chest.

The High Prelate, however, refrained from screaming. 

He put all of his heart into his last prayer as the life left his body.

He became a star of holy, pure fire as his body ignited. He released his life power as a last, unselfish blessing with his dying breath. 

Instead of injuring the monster, the golden energy pulse strengthened the air surrounding the mine, providing a permanent, impenetrable barrier of unwavering faith to support the broken dome.

His body then crumbled to ash, his duty complete. He had bought them time. He had given them a sanctuary.

And now the tiny, golden haven he had left behind was the focus of the enormous, city-sized monstrosity's whole, undivided attention.

The sanctuary left by Grizellum was a bubble of fragile hope in a dying world. Outside its shimmering dome, the black sky created by the abomination continued to spread, a cancerous growth that was slowly but surely engulfing the whole city.

The humans began to choke on the sheer, oppressive weight of Morvane’s corrupting aura pressing against their holy shield. Zebril, the iron captain, gasped, her hand going to her throat as she sank to one knee. 

Jarce's blade clattered on the floor as he collapsed, weak. The King and his family crowded close, breathing shallowly and with pale cheeks. The knights in the sanctuary all felt the same way, crumbling one by one as their bravery and might evaporated like water from a sieve.

From the writhing abomination's heart came a deep, rumbling chuckle.

The little catgirl with the golden greatsword was the only point of light that remained visible, and all eyes, both human and dark, turned to it.

“Ue-! Serenya is not that strong, nya!” she confessed, her voice a desperate, cracking whisper. “She’s only strong because of Ars Caelus! If I make the wrong move, if Caelus gets eaten or broken, then… then Serenya can’t protect anyone!”

“This won’t take long,” his voice echoed in their minds. A massive, sharpened tendril rose, poised to stab down and extinguish the last vestiges of resistance.

"Hm... what's this?"

It was a confident voice, completely out of place. Anna had woken. Standing at the tent's entrance, she had a calm face, as though she had just woken up from a comfortable slumber.

“Looks like night has come faster than I thought.”