Chapter 41 - The Execution

Voices.

Voices echoed again in the darkness he floated in. The pain subsiding, he swam around in the darkness, finally gaining some purchase in whatever he was in. The voices hadn't gotten clearer, but even when he didn't hear them, he faintly understood what they meant now.

The same visions of Fermigan flashed by his eyes, clearer than ever before. The main difference was the clarity of the bodies and the blood. Previously, it was clear that he was just seeing things. Now, he wasn't so sure. The faint scent of rotting meat wafted through the air, the dirt shifting slightly under his feet. Fermigan turned to look at him, his blood red eyes boring holes through his soul. His fists shook, unwilling to give in to pressure. He could tell what he wanted. He wanted him to join him, despite his voice being obscured. He shook his head, unable to speak but able to act.

The voices joined into one again, and he understood a part of it once more. "But the same blood is capable of protection and peace. A mortal decides how high and how low he goes."

His consciousness faded away, his spirit ready for what was to come next.

. . .

Jaw dragged Peter's body up on the main stage.

The man hadn't been his initial sacrifice, but now that he was dead, he might as well use his soul to transfer the body. He drew a circle on the stage's floor, making sure every stroke was to specifications. One line out of place, and this whole ritual would fall apart. He couldn't afford that. He placed him in the middle of the circle, eyeing the vials of blood on him. What was he doing with all that? Surely, that couldn't have been his doing, was it? What kind of wizard would stab himself like that?

Jaw turned to his soldiers, about to continue his speech, when one of them pointed towards Peter. "By the Gods! Look what's happening to him!"

He turned around. The gem had a jellified construction now, slowly morphing into Peter's body. He grabbed at it, but the gem merely slipped out of his fingers. Before he could do anything, the gem disappeared into his body, taking with it the wound he caused himself. In anger, Jaw grabbed his collar, about to tear his bandana off.

Suddenly, Peter woke up and headbutted him.

 Jaw let go, falling to the ground from the second impact to the head. Peter looked around. All of the soldiers aimed their guns at him. He smiled, uncapping all of his vials. Without thinking, he formed one of the vials into a mask, the blood crawling up his body to do so. And, to his pleasant surprise, it stayed on quite perfectly. He laughed loudly, trying to strike fear into the soldiers.

"You think Jaw knows anything about blood magic?" He yelled. "No, he does not! Here, let me show you... the true power of a blood mage!"

A soldier fired his gun. Immediately, he formed one of his vials into a shield, blocking the bullet. The other soldiers, unsure of what to do, also fired. He ran off the stage, unsure of how well the shield would hold. To his satisfaction, the shield blocked every shot with only slight signs of corruption. He threw the shield into the crowd, knocking over several people. Looking at the spilled blood vial, he formed it into a ball. With another of his vials, he formed a large rope.

A soldier charged him from behind with a spear. He wrapped the rope around the spear, tightening it to crush its handle in one swift motion. The soldier ran away, scared for his life. Bullets rang out. His fifth vial became another shield, blocking the hail of fire. The soldiers charged him from all angles. He spun around, using all three of his in tandem; the shield blocked any incoming attacks from behind, while the ball and rope hit people in the face and destroyed weapons retrospectively. Despite their numerical advantage, the soldiers simply could not hit him. 

Two soldiers tried to roll in a cannon, but a bullet from afar struck its wheel, shattering it and immobilizing the cannon. The soldiers, confused, scrambled to get another; their replacement also had its wheel shattered. They yelled in fear, running away from the camp as they screamed about a sniper.

Jaw sat up, trying to recover. He saw Peter, handling his soldiers with ease. He snarled, unsheathing his longsword. Completely ignoring the bewildered Beatrice on the stage, he charged him, leaving her by herself. It was then that Beatrice saw a blonde haired woman charge in through the main entrance, dagger in her hand. A couple soldiers saw her, but the ball slammed into their heads, knocking them out.

She reached the main stage, lifting Beatrice over her shoulder. "Don't struggle," she commanded.

Beatrice nodded, and the two ran away from the fight.

Meanwhile, Peter struggled with Jaw. Most of his soldiers were either incapacitated or too scared to fight, but Jaw proved to be much more skilled. He sliced through his mostly corrupted shield with ease, forcing Peter to back away. He wrapped the rope around his longsword, dragging it away. In response, Jaw put his hands up. Before he could block, Jaw's fist slammed into his stomach, sending him flying a bit. He coughed violently, the air forced out of his lungs. Jaw approached him. Peter kicked him in the chest to no avail. Grabbing his leg, Jaw threw him over his head and down into the ground. Before he could finish, Peter sent the ball into Jaw's chest, knocking him down. He hit the ground, the wind getting knocked out of him. He scrambled onto his feet after a minute, trying to recover. It was better than having multiple bone fractures, but it still hurt.

He saw Jaw stand up, a small dent in his armor. Peter uncapped his final two vials and poured them onto the ground. Jaw laughed. "Trying to make me slip? Don't you know that the ground absorbs liquid, you stupid bastard?"

"This stupid bastard knocked out your troops."

"But you won't knock out me." He sprinted at him, balling his hands into fists. Peter put his hands up, bracing himself for the hit.

But just as he threw his punch, a blood puddle formed at his feet.

The sudden loss of grip sent Jaw tumbling forward. Peter stepped to the side, allowing him to fall flat on his face. Before he could get up, the puddle formed into thick ropes, wrapping itself around his hands and knees. He fell to the ground again. He squirmed, desperately trying to free himself. But no amount of struggle could loosen the ropes. Peter knelt down, Claire coming in with a regular rope. He forced his head down, blocking his view of her.

"Who are you?" Jaw asked, gritting his teeth.

Peter mockingly patted him on the head with his fingers. "I'm a blood mage, getting rid of bad blood. And I think a bloodletting is in order for you."