Chapter 14: Agamura
This story may depict graphic or violent scenes. Reader discretion is advised.
Have I met her before…?
Her body is embedded into the walls as thick chains of metal pierce through her hide. Trapped in this forgotten dungeon.
“I have been observing you, stranger. My children may no longer listen to me, but I can see through them. I witnessed your strength.” she says.
Stride was provided clothing, old garments of former servants that had died by her side.
“I am Queen Mother Ivuna, former matriarch of the Hive. State your name, stranger.” she says.
“I am Stride, a foreigner to these lands.”
“Why are you locked down here?” Stride asks.
“Long ago, the Monarch took my hive captive for a battle that is not our own. A crime plotted from within. It was my Child of Promise that sided with the usurper.”
I know now… these same caverns. I saw them in his dying memories.
“It was the Vocaris who betrayed you!” Stride says convinced.
The Queen Mother nods.
“My children and I, we are not hostile creatures. We are scavengers, feeding on the dead and nourishing the soil.”
“That child, the Vocaris as you called him, was born with a gift known as Promise, the nature of those who seek ‘ascension’. His brilliant mind made him unfit to live within our hive of foragers. He travelled the world in search of answers. And when he returned, he had given his eternal servitude to Auracan, the Mountain Monarch.”
“He came to me, asking to follow his lead and serve the Monarch. I vehemently declined.”
“It was when my lover, Guardian of the Hive, Hanrugan, investigated an evil force brewing near the shores of our land that we were attacked. The Monarch was informed by the Child of Promise of my guardian’s absence.”
“If the Monarch feared your guardian, why has he not returned to save you?” Stride asks.
“Because Hanrugan deemed the threat near the shores far greater than my imprisonment.”
I washed ashore when I entered these lands. Is she talking about that massive serpent? It surely looks like her.
“Ivuna, is your guardian equal to you in size by chance? With rows of sharp teeth?
“You have met him? How wonderful. Was he in good health?”
“Met him? He tried to eat me. I thought you said your kind was of the passive sort.”
“If that were true, you would be dead. Hanrugan saw no danger in you, Stride. He tried to warn you. I too can sense that your soul is tainted by the curse of the mountains. Please be safe, my Guardian.”
When I left that cave, it let me go. Is that why I could escape it? Because it had to ensure that whatever was inside would never see the light of day – The Three Eyed demon?
Moreover, I was closer to it. Yet it chose to kill that sea creature. I never had to enter that cave…
“So, why not escape from here? Or end this suffering yourself?”
“I am prisoner to these walls. My body is only kept alive as I am forced to spawn more children. Every single day I can feel my children cry out on the battlefield as they are slaughtered, fighting on as soldiers without free will. Their minds cannot resist the helmets of domination, created by their own brother, my Child of Promise.”
The Vocaris… How could he live with that guilt?
“I wish to stop my spawn from dying for a war that is not their own. Please kill me and end their suffering.”
A heartfelt plea for death.
“Ivuna, the Mountain Monarch will come for me if I do that. And I do not plan on dying any time soon.”
“I will fulfil your request. If you tell me how I can defeat the Monarch.”
The Queen Mother shudders at Stride’s audacious conviction. But she accepts his demand.
“Auracan came here often. Perhaps his regal descent acknowledged my title as Queen Mother. He felt like he could talk to me as his equal and in private.”
“His confidence in my captivity allowed him to confide in me of his war efforts. He liked talking about his feats of greatness, how he would become ‘The Lord of Order’. And how many have tried to take his head. Over a century of battle experience have given him unbelievable strength. You must be his equal if you hope to fight him.”
“Isn’t that great.” Stride says.
“It is not. The Mountain Monarch is powerful. Yet I have always wondered, with all that power and boastfulness. Why would a self-proclaimed king settle for a Mountain as its stronghold?”
“How can you ask me this question when I am a foreigner, a stranger to your lands?”
“Try and think.” Ivuna demands.
“Because these mountains are an advantage position for his war…”
“You think too tactfully. Judging by his character, if he was omnipotent, he would not settle for a mountain as his legacy. He would lay claim to the Olden Capital, and from there on conquer Uendal.”
“Meaning that there are those who can best him in combat?” Stride says hopefully.
“You, perhaps.”
“His impatience for the throne has made him search for powers beyond his own.”
“And he found it, borrowed from Tyche, the goddess of rebellion.”
“He wields a power known as The Soul of the Broken. it is a rare artefact stored inside his body, which takes all the incoming damage dealt to him. It makes the Monarch immune to pain. Therefore, he can go all out until his last breath.”
“This is not getting any better, Ivuna.” Stride says.
“Patience, young one.”
“There is a limit to how much damage the artefact can take. Once it is shattered, will the built-up damage dealt to the artefact be transferred to the Monarch’s body.”
“The Soul of the Broken requires a specific ritual to restore, which cannot be done in battle.”
“In other words, I have to beat the Monarch till he breaks apart. What kind of strategy is that?”
She pauses.
“To defeat the Monarch, you should know something of yourself first, Stride.”
“There is an overwhelming power inside of you, radiating with grandeur. I can tell it inhibits your fear in battle and enhances your desire for cruelty.”
“I warn you now, if you let it, this power will devour you.”
How can she see the being within me? Ivuna… she can grasp the nature of those around her in a single glance like some kind of fortune teller. Yet she speaks the truth.
“Arrogance.” Ivuna says to Stride’s surprise. “You will defeat him by his arrogance.”
“The Mountain Monarch too, is blessed with powers beyond his grasp, which has made him arrogant over those he deems beneath him.”
“He was angered by my mere presence alone.” Stride says.
“Precisely.”
“And now he is in the race for ascension. To him, unless you are graced by Agamura’s Touch, you are not his equal.”
“What is Agamura’s Touch?” Stride says.
She bursts out in laughter, “You are humorous, Stride.”
Did I say something funny?
Tears follow her joy, not knowing how long it has been since she has laughed.
“I have given you the knowledge on what it takes to take up arms against the Monarch. Now hold up your end of the bargain. So that my children are no longer prisoner to Auracan’s campaign of war.”
“Thank you, Ivuna. I am sorry for your troubled life.”
He rests his hand on her beak. Her coarse scales tremble at the touch of another. For how long she has gone without touch. Without her children, her lover and guardian. She no longer holds back her regal facade. Tears splatter the ground like emptied vases of ale. No longer is she alone to suffer this horrifying fate. Someone can hear her weep.
Her body shivers as she curls her head against his hand.
“I am afraid. Why did it have to be like this.”
“Close your eyes. Think of your children. You will be with them soon.” Stride says, as he lifts his hand from her head.
The bloodied spike pierces through her skull. In one strike, it is over.
The Queen Mother falls to the ground.
I did that. Even if it was her final wish, I cannot justify this death with anger. The hatred in my heart did not do this. I did.
Stride’s senses tingle. His blood boils. His stomach rumbles with an unsatiated desire. A hunger he had never felt before.
She was a Queen of Scavengers, fed for over a century. She livd for the purpose of growing an army.
His compassion had drifted to frenzy. It was Stride’s nature that had taken over.
The walls tremble, as cracks form. The earth shakes beneath him. The chains that tied the Queen Mother down loosen from their joints.
A wave of blood breaks through the walls, towering over him. It comes for him.
Swept away by the current, Stride hears the voice of the Vocaris.
“Queen Mother, as your son I beg of you, bow down to Auracan for his kindness equals his cruelty. He is our destined Lord, I can feel it. My loyalty is his, for I am bound to him by eternal servitude.”
“Have you no shame?” Ivuna says. Their conversation dwindles as he is engulfed in pleasure. He lets the flow take him as his body strengthens with every passing second. He feels everything and dulls all thought or reason.
A maelstrom of blood pulls him in, falling deep into the sea of blood. He reaches out in a half–hearted attempt, but his mind is no longer in it to escape. It wants blood.
Outside of The Nest, a monster awaits him.
The Mountain Monarch stands alone. Without worry for his soldiers, that stand to face Stride within the Nest.
I must face him alone. Only then will I walk the true path.
Someone’s coming…
One of the Centians emerges from the dark. Limping slowly as it faces the Monarch in dismay.
“They are all dead. Every last one of them”
“And yet you live, while you harness the body of a warrior.”
“Please, take care of me… I am dying.”
“You have the gal to order me after fleeing from your prey? This is a battlefield, and your desertion is punished by execution.”
“This is no battlefield… this is a massacre. The soldiers receive the dignity of a swift beheading. But us Centians, we were tortured. Slow agonising deaths, like it held some wicked grudge against us.”
The Monarch grips his neck. “You seem to fear that Frayling more than me?”
“No, I do not my gracious Monarch, I swear!” The Centian pleads, blood seeping through his teeth.
“Just – heal my wounds.” It asks again. And that hit a nerve. For one of his underlings not to die in his name aggravated him.
“Out of my sight!” He says as he flings the creature away, “worthless scum.”
The Centian had served its purpose.
It was an oddity that Stride would let a Centian go.
It took some convincing, but after some ‘hard handed questioning’ was the Centian convinced to guide a ‘Frayling’ to the outside world. And the Frayling let him live for his efforts. But the Frayling was not worried, because Ivuna had told him about the vile nature of the Monarch. And the Frayling knew it as fact that the Centian would die by the hands of his master.
He opens his palm as blood spills from his hand.
A long sharp needle of blood flings to the Monarch. Effortlessly, he dodges.
He led him here. The Monarch realises.
Stride razes through the air, flying after his blood rope. His body contorts by the speed of his attack.
This little trick again. The Monarch thinks as he directs his wing blades. He runs alongside the bloody rope, ready to meet his assailer.
But as he gets in striking distance, he sees it is not Stride who is attached.
“Vocaris – ?.” The Monarch says incredulously.
The Monarch catches him, cutting the robe of blood with his wing blade. Amidst the confusion, with overwhelming speed, had Stride passed the Monarch’s guard.
Stride’s fist drives deep within the Monarch’s side. A sinister smile rests on the young man’s face.
His heart’s desire swells, eager to strike. Stride sprints at the Monarch. A hunger for violence accompanies him as his hands reach the Monarch again…
“Enough” The enraged Monarch shouts as his blades cut Stride in half.
Stride commands the blood of his body. Threads of blood sew him together as he quickly recovers.
There goes the surprise attack. I cannot use that trick again.
“You caught me.” Stride says gleefully, drunk on desire.
But my fists landed. I struck him first.
“You have killed my dearest Ivuna, and my most loyal servant. Unforgivable. I will chain your corpse above the mountain gates and let the Incubys fester in your remains.”
“Now die.”
The Monarch shoots out one of his circular shoulder blades.
Here it comes. Stride thinks, as he postures light on his feet.
The Blade blitzes through the air, flying even faster than the heavier Axe Heads the Monarch wore in their first encounter.
Wait… what is that.
As it glides through the air, the trajectory of the blade deviates from its path.
In an instant it is over.
The blade’s movement that is. With his monstrous strength, Stride catches it seemingly unfettered. Only requiring his fingers to grab the light blade.
He clasps the blade, wielding it as his own.
A tremendous force strikes at him, whacking the weapon from his hand. As his eyes follow the blade that was swept from his hand, the other wing blade aims for his head. He evades.
The blade slices through one of the pillars like a hot knife through butter.
Unrelenting, the Monarch rushes in, clenching his fists. Stride passively waits for the Monarch to come closer. He holds out his hand, welcoming the Monarch.
“I am waiting.” Stride mocks.
Blood colours to the sky.
I cannot move my arms. The Monarch notices as the blood that wet his blade has travelled up to his shoulder. Just as the Monarch was about to strike, Stride used his blood to pierce the Monarch’s skull with a blade from his unhardened blood.
If his artefact makes him immune to pain, then his sense of touch should be dulled as well. He would not notice the blood slither across his blade. Stride deduced.
Stride‘s foot flies deep in the Monarch‘s abdomen, knocking him backwards.
The Monarch’s body remains intact. Unfazed by the blade that pierces through his temple.
Even if I cut him down, he can still move the blood that stains my blades. If I cannot cut him, I will break his body down with blunt force.
Stride has neutralised the Monarch’s blades. But will it be enough?
Stride’s yearning for violence makes him move in as the Monarch plucks the spikes of blood from his skull.
Their fists collide.
Despite his persistent smile, all the bones in his arm have broken by the sheer force of the Monarch’s punch.
But finally, a sign of his mortality…!
A crack forms on The Soul of the Broken. The damage Stride has done to him has accumulated.
The absolute nerve of this Frayling. I am Auracan, absolute ruler of these mountains. I will not be challenged by this insignificant creature.
Stride’s face swells up as the Monarch’s fist crashes down on him. Blow after blow, the Monarch pummels him as Stride’s broken arm cannot defend him.
The Monarch steps onto his left foot and releases a straight left fist into his stomach. Stride gasps for air as he is launched through The Nest.
He crashes into a pillar, as the sky is filled with dust and debris.
“That hurt.” Stride says as he steps out of the pillar.
But it does not matter. Because I have hurt him as well. This body of mine is prepared for the worst.
The Monarch flies at him, not giving Stride a chance to recover.
“Too slow.” Stride says as the Monarch’s brutish fist skims past him.
The Monarch’s attack was too obvious. And Stride found the space to dodge left of him.
Wait! Stride worries. It was too easy of an attack to dodge.
From behind the pillars, the second shoulder blade of the Monarch shoots at him, precisely timed to where he stands.
I cannot dodge in time!
He bends his body backwards, ducking under the rotating blade that would have sliced him in half.
As he gets back up, he does not see the Monarch.
Where did he go?
It was all a ploy…
In that instant, the Monarch descends down on him.
An incredible force pushes Stride to the ground. A crater forms where he lies, by the weight of the Monarch’s pressure. His muscles swell, as he clenches his fist.
“You are mine now.” The Monarch says.
Fists rain down on Stride, as they break every bone in his body. Massive holes form where the Monarch’s fists land. Every swing becomes bigger and deeper, penetrating through his ribs. His body tries to recover after every blow, but slowly it stops trying.
This time too, Stride is caught, beaten to a pulp by the Monarch’s fury.
“You dare challenge me?!” The Monarch exclaims as he unleashes his wrath upon the damaged boy. “You will be my literal stepping stone. I will punch you into the ground till you are part of the earth itself.”
“Arrogance.” Stride says, as he forces a smile on his mutilated face.
If my wounds are open, I can cast the blood instantly.
Stride’s body floods open as spikes of blood shoot out from under the torn rags. Every limb is pierced, as the Monarch writhes and twists to no effect.
I cannot move. The Monarch worries.
“Even if you do not feel the damage of my spikes, your body can still be pierced. And your movement can be restricted” Stride says.
“You really hurt me there.” Stride says as he stands up. His wounds slowly heal from the barrage.
“When you left me to die, I absorbed the blood of your fallen enemies. Their memories were not in vain, as I have seen your battles through them. You should have killed me when you had the chance.”
“But your arrogance will pay the price.”
“Your immunity to pain has made you weak,” he says, throwing an uppercut in the Monarch’s stomach.
He lifted me?
Stride continues his barrage, throwing punch after punch. As long as the Monarch is immobilised, he cannot respond to him.
“…!” Flexing his muscles, The Monarch breaks free from the spikes stuck within him. He recovers in an instant, as if the damage never affected him.
This is not over yet.
As Stride follows up with a right hand, that knocks the Monarch off balance.
Heavy hands that could break steel. A flurry of fists trounce on the Monarch.
The Monarch cannot counter. The force behind each hefty blow gives the impression that the Monarch is still staked on those bloody spikes. He tries to rebel the incoming blows, but every move he makes is responded to with powerful hands that do not relent. He endures the weight behind each fist that lands on him. Finally, he is knocked back.
He can still stand after all that… What a monster.
Drenched in sweat, Stride stands ready to fight. His arms weigh heavy as he lifts them. It feels as if a boulder rests on each of his shoulders. He exerted all his energy and took a grisly beating to make it this far.
No matter what, I cannot show weakness. I must embrace this frightening smile. No matter what happens, I will not run from him. Even if it means death.
Stride was not unfazed or driven by a drunken rage. He was scared. Afraid of this demonic figure, that kept on marching forward. But showing fear would only feed its wrath. He too, must act the part.
The Monarch flies back as his feet scrape the ground.
I retreated. I settled for defeat. Me? No… No, that cannot be. I am Monarch, ruler of this Domain. I have guarded these gates for the last hundred years by name and might alone. No one has passed without my permission, and no one ever will. I am the destined Lord of Order. As for the Frayling – I will skin him alive with my blades. No matter his trickery, I will cut him up until nothing remains.
Occupied by revenge, the Monarch’s skin begins to swell as small bubbles form above his shoulder.
“What is this twitchy feeling?” The Monarch says as he catches on.
“It stings,” he says annoyedly.
Feeling…?
Stings…?
No, no, no, nooo….
Overcome in blind panic he peers over at his writhing skin. For a being that is immune to pain, his body has slowly returned to its senses. And once that feeling has returned, it requires something else to be broken.
It cannot be.
The Soul…
“Aghhhh… I cannot- breath…” His skin boils, as his bones break and his tendons snap apart like twigs.
“I need more time. Tyche, let me figh-” The Monarch pleads. He wants to ask for mercy, but he cannot breathe. He tries reaching for his neck, but his biceps tear apart, letting his arms flail helplessly.
Blood bursts out from his chest as his limbs contort. His arms are forcefully twisted backwards. The more he tries to fight it, the more bones begin breaking. In a gruesome fashion, his arms, hands and fingers skew themselves in manners that can only maximise his pain. He shivers in agony, a dreadful look of defeat.
The blood climbs for the sky as it seeps from him.
Stride stops his sinister act as he witnesses true horror at display before him.
“What is this…”
*KGGR*, *KGR*, *KRGHHH*
His spine grinds through his body, as his head is lifted out of his body.
“Tyche, have mercy!” The Monarch screams, as pain brews inside of him. All the damage ever done to him has come back to haunt him in his dying moments. Every battle, every scar, it is his price to pay for borrowing power.
His head soars the sky, as it stops amidst the floating blood.
The blood forms a symbol. A he kept screaming ‘Tyche’, Stride remembers what Ivuna had told him. Is this the consequence of borrowing the power of a god?
The Monarch’s blood hovers in the sky around him, as he tries to scream in terror. Yet his voice makes no sound, not even a silent cry for help. Agony in its purest form.
Stride shivers, even in victory. Is this what will happen to him when death finally embraces him. Had the Monarch killed him, would he be victim to this horrifying fate?
A feminine voice calls out to Stride. “Are you brave enough to step forward? Do you wish to lay claim to your desire?”
Who does this voice belong to? I cannot sense it coming from within my raging heart. Stride wonders.
“Should I – claim his blood?”
I do not feel the desire of hunger. I feel empty.
But I want power. I need it. There still are more monsters out there, beings like the Three Eyed Demon. If I wish to overcome that deep-rooted fear of mine, I need the strength to never run again.
“You will be relieved of your fears if you are brave enough to take a step. And then another.” The voice says again.
Stride walks up to the symbol. The threads of blood descend down upon him.
You utter fool. This is a trap. The voice within his heart shouts.
His eyes whiten as the Monarch’s blood engulfs him. All the pain the Monarch has endured is now part of him. Overwhelming pain, like a knife to the heart that slowly twists itself around, as it pries through every muscle and tendon. Stride cries out in agony.
The blood continues flowing in, increasing his suffering.
The Monarch returns to his senses as the pain eases. He sees Stride’s suffering, sharing his torment.
I understand it all too clearly now. It is like the Artist told me. A head ate him giving him otherworldly strength. He truly is an active vessel.
Then I can be… the head that eats him as I grant him my strength. It was never I that should pursue the path of ascension. I am merely a part of the true Lord that stands before me. Tyche, you have shown me your brilliance.
“Let me become your servant, accept my blood as your own, take it in and I will grant you my eternal servitude.” The Monarch yells at the Frayling.
Stride feels fear from the being within his heart. For the first time. Fear.
This is a trick Stride. It will lure you in with false promises. Do not let him manipulate you.
“The pain will go away if you let me become a part of you. Let me be your source of strength.” The Monarch pleads.
His words are lies. He tried to kill you. After taking your body, he will cage you. He will imprison you within his own body. Will you let him Stride?
Will you be caged again?
Caged. A simple word to many, yet for Stride, it meant everything.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGH!” He screams, cursing the blood out of his body. He will not let it happen to him, not after being a part of that ship as an oar slave. Not after escaping the Incubys moths and having seen what he did to Ivuna. He would rather die than become prisoner again.
He rejects the Monarch’s invitation.
The Monarch’s head falls to the ground as the pain that leaves Stride’s body returns to him.
Stride succumbs.
I defeated him. And yet I fell for my desire. It was not the being within my heart that forced me to step forward. I wanted that power. I wanted to be free of fear.
The ground feels cold. Its soothing. I could really use some rest right now. No, this is not the time. I have to get up, before reinforcements arrive.
But he lies down a little longer as he gazes at the Twin Peaks, the mountain that stood between him and his freedom.
Does his sight deceive him or is there something else at play?
The earth did not tremble,
And the birds did not flutter,
Yet there was no doubt in his mind that this thing was real, staring down on him.
Reaching high above the mountains, a Giant’s gaze lands on the decrepit boy. Wearing a spiked black cloak, and a decorated crown with castle towers as its fleuron. Its hands each have six fingers, and a waterfall appears to grow out of its beard. But the oddest thing about it, is its size. Amongst all the behemoths and goliaths that walk these lands, this thing is the most absurd of them all.
“The God of Lordship, Agamura, is my name,” it says.
It spoke slowly, in a loud deep voice, that thundered through his bones. Strong and authoritative. It commanded his single listener as Stride felt the words rattle through him. As if its language was a universal truth that the world of men could grasp, even the deaf could hear.
“You have slain the Monarch of the Mountains, Auracan. He was a Champion, one who walks the path of becoming Lord.”
“Defeat six more Champions on their path of Lordship and be granted audience with the ruling Lord within my Crowned Castle.”
“Eternal life shall be rewarded to those who become Lord, and all its vassals. For all that is good.”
“You have taken Auracan’s place as you now befit the title of Champion. There is no return from this path, it is your nature to seek out the strong and ascend.”
Agamura reaches over and gently places his finger before him.
“Come to me. We shall bind our shared ambition as Lord.”
Stride crawls to Agamura’s finger, which seems even larger than Hanrugan the Guardian.
He places his hand against its skin. “Welcome to your new beginning, Champion.”
The world fades to darkness.
“Wake up, Stride.”
“Stride.”
I know that voice…
Mane smiles at him, as he appears to wear a mask again.
“What happened to me?”
“I found you lying outside. The gate was open, and I was free to pick up your body and carry you back here. I even made you a bed.”
“Oh, I walked past the remnants of the Monarch as well, but he was not much of himself. Even the Incubys could not induce such fear.”
“Tell me about it…” Stride says, as he sits up. He now notices the soft patches of grass he rests on. He really made me a bed. What an odd creature.
“You seem rather well. I thought you were his prisoner?” Stride asks suspiciously.
“In ways worse than you can imagine. But I have my ways of escape. It just took some time for the Monarch to leave me be. I can build myself back up. I am made of stone after all.”
He is not lying.
“Stride.”
“I am sorry for what I asked of you. I should have told you what it meant to meet the Monarch.”
“I know. And even though I should be furious, I am not. Because it was the only way forward.” Stride says.
“Mane…” He hesitates, “did you make those clothes yourself?”
“Well yes, I did as a matter of fact. Do you like them?”
“…”
“I need you to make some proper clothes for me. Something other than these old rags.”
“You just made the heart of an artist beat a little faster.” Mane says gleefully.
“Of course I will, Stride.”
“We should head for the auction. As we move, you will have to teach me a lot of things about these lands.”
“Are they related to art by chance?” Mane asks. Stride’s glance tells him his guess was mistaken.
“I need to understand what it means to become Lord.”
Mane trembles with excitement.
“That is a story of beauty.”
End of chapter 14.