Chapter Twenty Four: The Master of Flesh

The lesser Abyssians were being cleft in two by Raiden’s manic swings.

In full Berserker Mode, the unit leader tore through them without restraint, white-hot greatsword carving paths of seared, non-regenerating flesh. He laughed as he slaughtered them, the red flush of his face and pure white eyes giving him the appearance of a man completely lost to the battle high.

Zero focused on the large one.

He charged in with a powerful straight thrust. The tip of his Magicyte blade struck the Abyssian’s dense hide and skidded with a shower of sparks. Zero dug in and pushed harder, the deep maroon circuits along his armor flaring as he drove forward with raw strength.

The Abyssian stepped back under the pressure. Its massive bony arms shot up and clamped down on the blade, trying to lock it in place. Rotten flesh and bone began to cook and blacken where they made contact with the heated Magicyte edge, smoke rising between its claws.

The creature roared in pain and fury.

Then its massive stomach-tongue lashed out like a whip, wrapping tightly around Zero’s torso. With a violent heave, the Abyssian hurled him across the hall.

Zero smashed into a stone pillar hard enough to crack it, the impact sending a shock through the chamber. Dust and fragments rained down as he hit the ground.

The lead Abyssian turned fully toward him, tongue retracting with a wet sound, bony claws dripping fresh venom as it prepared to press the attack.

Zero stood.

A sharp smile spread across his face.

This was what he craved — a proper challenge. The Chorimere had been little more than a stepping stone. This creature, with its dense flesh and relentless regeneration, would actually make him work for the kill.

The air around him grew heavier.

The deep maroon Magicyte circuits running through his armor began to pulse, then brighten rapidly. Across the hall, every Codex still functioning let out a sharp warning tone:

WARNING. WARNING.
MAGICYTE ENERGY BUILDING.

Zero gathered his power without a word. The stone beneath his boots cracked and splintered under the sudden pressure. In the span of a heartbeat he vanished — a bright flash of crimson-black lightning that crossed the distance in an instant.

He brought his sword down.

The stroke carried enough force to cleave a god in two.

The massive Abyssian was split cleanly from the top of its gaping maw all the way through its body. The blade continued downward and slammed into the Altar of Flesh itself. The ancient structure shattered under the impact, exploding into a violent spray of stone and corrupted matter.

A blinding cloud of dust and debris expanded outward, swallowing the entire hall in a choking gray storm.

For a moment, the only sound was the settling of broken stone… and the wet collapse of the bisected Abyssian as both halves of its body hit the floor and remained still.

Zero stood amid the settling dust, sword still lowered from the finishing blow, the circuits along his armor slowly dimming back to their normal glow.

The smile had not left Zero’s face.

“Get up, you vile monster,” he said through gritted teeth. “Regenerate your body. I crave more violence.”

The large Abyssian responded.

Its bisected halves began to stitch themselves back together with wet, tearing sounds. Bony arms reached outward, dragging in the scattered remains of the lesser abominations and absorbing them greedily. Flesh stacked upon flesh. Muscle swelled. When the process finished, the creature stood whole once more — and larger than before. Its gaping maw had widened, the stomach-tongue had thickened, and the entire form now towered at least ten feet taller than its previous size.

Zero’s smile only sharpened, teeth bared.

“More. More. Give me more!”

He charged again.

His blade dug deep into the Abyssian’s side before the creature violently swiped him away. Heightened reflexes let Zero twist in mid-air, land against a cracked pillar, and launch himself back toward the enemy—

Then the entire area seemed to come to a halt.

The Abyssian froze mid-motion and lowered itself in a crude, submissive bow. Raiden’s manic Berserker swings stopped cold. The white glow around him faded as he jumped back, breathing hard, eyes returning to normal.

A voice rumbled through the hall.

It sounded like it was made of grinding gravel and old bone.

“Hmm… Delvers… harming my pets…”

From the deeper shadows beyond the ruined altar, a figure emerged.

It was gaunt — almost corpse-like. Sunken, hollow eyes sat in a face of tight grey skin. Long, slender fingers wrapped around a gnarled staff crafted entirely from fused fingers and bones. The figure seemed to float rather than walk, and as it fully entered the light, large protruding shoulder blades became visible, draped with ribbons of hanging flesh that formed something like a grotesque, flesh-bound halo.

“Ah… dear pet…” The Lich reached out and stroked the kneeling Abyssian with unsettling affection. “Hush, my pet…”

It turned its hollow gaze upon the Tyrants.

“I am the Master of Flesh. The Lich Kralikan the Immortal. You will bow to me.”

He slammed the bone staff against the ground.

A violent vibration ripped through the hall, pressing down on the Tyrants like an invisible weight. None of them bowed. Least of all Zero.

Kralikan’s head turned slowly, hollow eyes locking onto the silver-haired man.

“…I know you,” the Lich hissed. “Failed King.” it bared its rotten ancient teeth, Zero narrowed his eyes

“You who turned me into this… you showed no mercy…” Kralikan’s mouth twisted into something approximating rage, though most of the facial muscles had long since withered away. “And you are the one who gets to live?”

Zero’s grip tightened on his sword.

“How do I know you?”

It wasn’t really a question.

Kralikan let out a dry, rattling sound that might have once been a laugh.

“The Architects are cruel… but for whatever reason, they let you live. They didn’t grant me life.” The Lich’s hollow eyes narrowed. “But enough of that. You harmed my pet. It’s a newborn. Is that how you treat a newborn… King Kael Vorrath?”

The name hit Zero like a physical blow.

He staggered half a step, free hand flying up to grip his head as a spike of pure agony lanced through his skull. Fragments of memory — a crown, a throne room, a battlefield, the weight of a name that had once commanded armies — slammed into him all at once.

Kralikan’s laughter echoed through the ruined hall, dry and delighted.

“Haha! The priesthood really did remove your memories. How delightful.” The amusement drained from his voice as quickly as it had appeared. “But this transgression I cannot let pass. You harmed my pet… my child.”

Green lightning began to spark and coil around the Lich’s bone staff. The air itself grew sharp with rising power.

“You will pay for that.”

Kralikan thrust the staff forward. Bolts of virulent green lightning erupted toward the Tyrants.

Sora reacted instantly, erecting a wide barrier of pale light. The first wave of bolts slammed into it with concussive force. The shield held — but only barely. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface under the sheer intensity of the attack, light fracturing as the Lich poured more power into the assault.

Zero forced his head up through the lingering pain of the name, crimson-tinged eyes locking onto Kralikan.

The Lich knew him.

And now, so did everyone else in the hall.

King Kael Vorrath.

The Failed King had a name again.