Chapter 94: Ch94 Already Dead
The air trembled in silence before a blinding crash shattered the stillness of the town square.
Luther sprang back just in time as a rubic fist hammered into the stone where he had been standing. Cracks lit the floor like splintered lightning, dust exploding outward in a whirlwind of broken wreckage.
The shockwave ran along the street, rattling the bones of the dead that hung from splintered scaffolding.
In the dust of flying fragments, time crept like a snail. Each shard of shattered tile spun end over end in the air, catching the waning sun like little needles as it pierced Luther’s face. His cloak whipped about with savage fury in the whirlwind — a black sea on the bloody heaven. His silver hair whipped wildly about, his face impassive yet his blue eyes agleam with icicle-thin bravery.
The demon sword pulsed in his hand, its blade scored with fine, red-black veins. A faint voice crept into his mind, whispered but listening.
"Heh. You came close to losing a leg there, boy. You should practice dodging before the earth eats you."
Luther exhaled a hard breath. "You can shut up now."
"Oh, I’m all torn up inside. I’m only attempting to keep your squishy little mortal bits together.".
"How by pestering?"
"Yes."
The moment shattered.
The red monster roared — a ghastly roar that distorted the air — and its second arm swung out for Luther like a tidal wave. He ducked low, then rolled back in a smooth arc, his boots etching inches over the broken earth before coming to rest in a crouch.
The earth fell behind him in a gut-wrenching shudder. Dust loomed in towering clouds, strangling the air.
Damn obstinate one," Luther snarled.
He sprang off the floor, sprinting on a welter of golden glow as he charged. The creature’s arm was stuck in the stone — an opening. Luther sprinted up its forearm with effortless ease, each step crackling with power.
He swung the sword around in a fluid arc.
A searing crimson-black slash.
The monster emitted a howl, molten eyes burning as its head recoiled. Black ichor spilled like scalding tar.
Luther fell softly, rolled over once, and came up in time. His respiration rose only marginally, though a momentary grimace contorted his lips.
"You could have shot better," the sword drawled. "At this point you merely angered it."
"Good," Luther growled, cracking his neck. "I had something to punch anyway."
The sword darkly laughed.
"Ah, that holy saint temper. I had forgotten this from you."
He defied it. His gaze shifted toward Alina. She stood some paces away, golden energy flowing from her palms like molten sunlight. Her locks flared softly against the darkening horizon, sacred magic surrounding her in a tender sheen.
She swung with both arms — light went out, immolating a pack of shuffling dead who swarmed her. They dissolved in flame and ash, but more took their places. Their blank eyes glowed dull red; their skin was wrinkled and weeping black fluid.
"Die already!" she screamed, spinning and firing another burst of holy light.
The blast severed a cluster of them, arms flying — but when her magic was gone, they started to crawl once more, bone on stone.
Alina’s shield weakened, her face deathly pale. Sweat dripped from her temples. She attempted to lift her hands again, but the spell didn’t work.
Then — a grab. A corpse on the ground seized her ankle. She slipped, crashed hard, sent dust flying.
Before the creature could lunge, a sharp hum split the air — and three bodies were cut clean in half.
Luther appeared beside her, his sword dripping with smoke.
"You good?" he asked flatly.
"Barely," she breathed, grabbing his hand.
"Then don’t die yet," he said, pulling her up. "I’m not done being irritated."
"Aww, that’s almost touching," the sword mocked. "He does care."
"Shut it," Luther growled.
They twirled around, shoulder to shoulder, Luther unleashing the sword in great, flowing curves that sliced through the mass of bodies and Alina summoning burning barriers to shield their flanks.
There was a second puppet shooting at them from the front. Alina fired a huge, concentrated beam of light into its chest — the blow sent it stumbling, but it did not burn. The light stuttered uselessly.
"What—why isn’t this working?!" she gasped.
Luther parried a claw, kicked the creature back, and replied dryly, "Maybe they didn’t get the point that you’re holy."
"Idiot," the sword sneered. "They’re beyond her reach. These aren’t half-living — they’ve already crossed over."
Luther’s brow furrowed. "So they’re all... dead?"
"’Dead’ is the polite term. I’d call them recycled failures."
Luther clicked his tongue. "Fantastic. So we’ve been trying to save corpses."
Alina froze in place for a moment — her eyes widening as her golden glow failed around her fingers. "That can’t be—"
"Oh, it is," the sword interrupted cheerfully. "Tell your little sunshine priestess that this whole town’s been rotten long before she got here. You two just didn’t catch wind yet."
The red beast let out another bellow, shattering the building beside it as it charged forward on all fours like some beast.
Its liquid eyes blinked to Luther in childlike exuberance. "PLAY. WITH. ME!"
"Not for you," Luther interrupted curtly, darting to the side as the beast’s swinging arms threatened.
The impact split the street, cracks spreading like veins. Red mist streamed from the cracks — then drops began falling.
Luther looked up.
Red rain.
It fell thick and heavy, each drop searing where it landed. The stones snapped; the air reeked of charred earth and blood.
"Don’t tell me—"
One drop hit his knee. His trousers hissed as it landed, smoke curling. It stung hard, burning, but only briefly. His blue crystal on his chest glowed — the light caught well in the red rain.
"Hahah," the sword chuckled, "I was just wondering when the sky would begin to cry again."
Luther’s brows furrowed. "Crying?"
"You refer to rain that can literally strip a human skin ’CRYING!’
"What?, did you think I’d refer to it as killing rain because it can incinerate flesh" t said in a hushed tone, almost with a sense of awe. "You should have realized that already or was the first burn not severe enough."
"I was a little bit busy trying not to puck," Luther shot back, leaping away as more acid-like drops fell.
He twisted midair, flipping backward onto a wall before springing off again, his boots skimming puddles that hissed into steam. Each motion was a blur — clean, practiced, deadly.
The sword hummed, amused.
"You move well for someone who pretends to be bored."
Crank of not wishing to melt alive," Luther snarled, dodging another drop that reduced a hole where he had been.
Alina’s voice reached him, panicked and shaking. "Sire, the rain—my spells don’t work on it!"
"Then stop standing in it," he roared back.
She glared but jumped out of the way, putting up a weak shield to deflect the rain. Her magic spat as it touched, lessening further.
The red monster did not even flinch, strolling through the acid rain as if a child kicking puddles. Its grin spread even farther.
Well. can blame them, their already dead. What else could a acid rain do to them (^^^)
"You’re stalling," the sword interrupted. "You could have finished that five minutes ago."
"Yeah?" Luther sidestepped a lurching corpse. "And why haven’t you suggested something useful for once?"
"Because you’re not paying attention, moron. Look at the sky — actually look."
He raised his head mid-swing — and froze. The rain wasn’t just red; it weakly glimmered with symbols. Old sigils, faintly luminescent, fell like malignant runes.
It wasn’t weather. It was a ritual.
"Now you notice it," the sword laughed. "Someone’s still providing the town magic from somewhere"
It was man-made.
Luther cursed himself silently, his thoughts sharp and acidic. So it wasn’t illness or a curse, someone did this. We’re in a closed field.
He sidestepped a claw, severed another puppet in two, and whirled back to Alina.
"Alina! The rain’s the seal—we’re in a ritual zone. Drop your shield, now!"
Her eyes widened. "What—why would I—"
"Because if you don’t, you’ll steam yourself!" he snapped.
That one survived. Her shield melted just as a second deluge of rain hit.
"Oh, clever," the sword whispered. "You’re getting better."
"Remind me to melt you in a bit," Luther growled.
He spun the blade, black magic searing along its edge. "All right, let’s get on with it."
The monster attacked, jaws wide open — and Luther plunged into it. The two forces met in a shockwave that rumbled through the square.
Luther’s sword collided with the creature’s claw, sparks and blood flying as Luther spun his body, applying the strength against itself. His boots skidded on the wet earth. His muscles howled in protest, but he did not relent.
"Now that’s more like it," the sword snarled, ravenous. "Show them what happens when a saint loses the facade!"
Luther smiled. "You need to shut up.".
He spun, hewed upward, and the blade released a wash of red light that tore through the monster’s chest. It stood, its head tilted as it exhaled silently from its maw. And then it disintegrated — not into meat or bone, but dust.
The oppressive silence that followed was heavy.
The sword vibrated softly.
"They were already dead."