Chapter CI: One to Fear

"Rykoshet!"

Shifting uncomfortably in his bed, the blond Elvaan fought off distorted images floating across his vision. His arms felt like they were tied to boulders for the effort it took to move them. There was a weight on his chest making breathing somewhat laborious.

"Rykoshet!"

His face felt strange. There was something rubbing against his cheeks, one after the other. He tried to reach for it, but couldn't quite make it. He wondered why his pillow felt so hard. Who was shouting? It was still pitch black outside, there was no reason to be up in the middle of the night.

"Rykoshet, dammit, get up!"

His eyes snapped open, and Rykoshet sat straight up out of the pile of rubble he was lying in. Konstantine yelped as she leaped off of him, and the sting of having his cheeks slapped repeatedly suddenly became painfully acute. He shot a look behind him, seeing an indentation where Xaijin had shoved him into the stone wall and left him unconscious on the ground. To his left, he saw Fated scraping himself off the floor as well, shaking his head and looking around in confusion.

"Rykoshet, Rykoshet," Konstantine took hold of his arm, her large brown eyes looking up at him, "Xaijin's taken Odessa! Why did you let him out?"

His eyes were having trouble focusing on the tiny mage. Squeezing them shut tightly, he struggled to rise, bracing himself against the wall with a shaking hand.

"Where . . . where did he go?" He managed.

Konstantine pointed out the doorway. The walls outside the dungeon were scarred with deep gashes carved straight into the rock. Dust and loose rock were still falling from the spiral staircase which led to the dungeon. Every step bore a crack, creeping its way through the thick stone as if it were fragile glass. More than that, a stiflingly powerful residue of spiritual pressure hung in the air. Rykoshet could feel it slithering over his skin like oil, pressing against him and making it hard to breathe. It was the essence of pure malice permeating the atmosphere.

Scraping himself from the floor, Rykoshet finally managed to stand on unsteady legs. "Konnie . . . what did he do?"

"He threw you into that wall, Rykoshet, and then, and then he grabbed Odessa, knocked Fated down and ran away. It all happened so fast . . ."

"What happened?" The voice from the doorway was familiar, and they turned to find the Jeunoan Commander, Wolfgang, his eyes alight with suppressed fury. "What is going on, Rykoshet? Why is Xaijin free?"

"I let him out," the Elvaan responded, taking a slight step forward.

Before his foot scraped the ground, he was lifted into the air. A shockwave shook his spine as he was once again pushed into the wall. His mouth tasted like wet copper as blood trickled out from between his teeth. With strength belieing his small stature, Wolfgang had taken Rykoshet by the neck and held him against the stone wall, a fire in his eyes.

"What were you thinking?" He shook the Elvaan violently. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Is he fighting?" Rykoshet coughed, wiping the red trail from his mouth.

"What?" The question took the Jeunoan by surprise, and he dropped the taller man. Rykoshet staggered as his feet hit the floor, bracing himself on the wall.

"Is he fighting the undead?"

The Commander of Jeuno's military delivered a blistering stare at the Elvaan. "Is that what this is about? You let him go for that?" Konstantine gave a yelp as Wolfgang's silver sword came free from its scabbard. "He is not a weapon, Rykoshet, he is a monster." He leveled the blade at his throat, fury in his eyes. "You have not saved us! You've unleashed a monster on us all!"

The next sound out of Wolfgang's mouth was a surprised yelp as he flew backwards off his feet. His sword clattered to the ground, ringing out in the confined dungeon space. Wisps of dark magic floated off of Rykoshet's palm as Wolfgang came down hard, staring up in surprise after he landed.

"We're surrounded by monsters, Wolfgang," Rykoshet put his foot down on the Commander's sword, and with a flick of his heel kicked it over to him. "If having one of our own saves even one life, then I'll deal with as many monsters as I have to."

The Jeunoan picked himself up, his expression still smoldering. "This will be a disaster, Rykoshet. Xaijin cares nothing about us. When this fight is over he'll turn his attention back on us, and then what will we do?"

"Hope that you're wrong." He coughed again. "Fated, can you stand?"

The young Paladin was inching his way to his feet, his eyes dazed. "He went right through me . . . like I wasn't even there . . . "

"Worry about it later. Konnie, Fated, follow me. It's time to go."

"What?" Wolfgang shouted. "You've let Xaijin go free and now you're just walking away? Where are you going?"

Rykoshet stopped, his eyes meeting that of the smaller man. "To save us, Wolfgang," he replied. "From all the monsters." Turning slowly, he trudged out the door, clapping Fated on the shoulder as he went. It was time to go see Chatcher.


The great black flame of Xaijin's aura raged up into the darkened skies above. On the ground, the frost which had encroached the land melted away at his presence, but Meriphataud Mountains remained covered in white. A snow of sorts had begun to fall, laying thick upon the dirt and bleaching it. For in the wake of the great criminal's fury, the dust of countless bones now marked his passing.

From within the howling storm of his unleashed power, Xaijin stood watching the endless hordes of skeletal warriors destroy themselves in their attempts to get close to him. His mere presence was enough to tear them apart. The more powerful ones were able to breach the wall of his aura, only to be ground into dust by the torrent of force within. His red hair flew up like a bright flame behind him, and he drew his lips together in consternation.

"It's no fun this way," he muttered, watching the destruction without amusement. "You'll use yourselves up before I can get my hands on you."

Gritting his teeth together, his corded muscles bulged from under his taut skin. The ground heaved, and the great flame of his energy flickered. The pillar of swirling energy bursting up from his being wavered, its horrible essence diminishing rapidly. The army of undead drew back, pulled away by uncertainty about what to make of this new development.

The energy storm died down, and Xaijin stood at its epicenter, smile spreading across his face. Slowly, he brought his hands up, cracking his knuckles as he stretched his neck from side to side. He rolled his shoulders back as pebbles which had been caught up in the raging whirlwind of his aura began dropping from the air, a rain of stones pelting the ground all around him. He raised his head, a malicious glint in his eyes.

"I'll fight you with one tenth of my power," he declared. "That should be enough to make this interesting."

"Hey!" A high voice shouted down from above. "Are you crazy? Just smash them!"

The Elvaan's glance shot up the parapets of Castle Oztroja to where he had left Odessa. Hundreds of feet in the air, she still took a step back when his gaze hit her. "Don't yell at me, woman!" He snarled.

"Don't go doing stupid things and I won't yell!" She replied, clutching her robe about her for warmth. "You want me to heal you or not?"

"Grrraah . . . " the air around him crackled. An instant later, his fist shot out, crunching through the teeth of an undead warrior seeking to assault him. He clenched his fingers inside the thing's skull, explosively pulling the front of its face off before smashing its ribs and spine with one downward slice using its own jawbone. "I'm busy now," he shouted back up at her, "just do your job!"

Whatever her feelings on the matter might have been, the absent, offhand manner in which he had just pulverized his assailant kept Odessa from voicing them. Anything she had to say would have been lost in any case, overpowered by the deafening wail which overtook Meriphataud Mountains.

With the overwhelming force surrounding him gone, the endless horde of undead around him rushed in like the tide. Bones of beast and man converged upon Xaijin in a blinding rush. Those holding weapons sliced at him with chipped, rusting blades. Others scratched and tore at his flesh with bare fingers or teeth. Their sheer numbers swarmed him like insects in an instant, burying the flame-haired Elvaan beneath them. Odessa watched from above with horror as they crushed him under their weight.

The feeling lasted only long enough to twist her stomach before a fist burst up through the spine of one of the undead monsters at the back of the pile. Shards of bone split off in all directions as a fireball of spiritual force erupted outwards, and Xaijin climbed into the air as the beast's skeleton collapsed, its thick backbone now torn from the rest of it. Xaijin rose into the air, trailing blood from innumerable cuts and scratches across his entire body. It ran down into his teeth, staining his broad smile red.

"This is what I'm after," he exulted, twirling the length of bone like a staff. "Now fight me," he demanded as he came down to the ground, sending out shockwaves with his impact. "Come and grind yourselves to dust against my fists!"

And come they did. In one unified motion, the horde changed direction and swarmed towards Xaijin once again. From all directions they assailed him, and in all directions he repulsed them. He swept out the spine he was holding, breaking it into pieces against the first row of oncoming soldiers. He let it go, the force he swung it with carrying it deep into their ranks, even as he launched himself backwards into the undead rushing him from behind. His foot lanced out towards them, and the power of his kick tore the ground apart in a straight line in front of him. Bones split apart as the rocks burst open beneath them, accompanied by the crushing shock of Xaijin's attack. The explosion splintered their vanguard, and before they could recover the legendary outlaw himself was deep in their ranks.

Odessa watched from atop the parapet in a sick amazement, almost forgetting to cast the healing spells he had demanded. She still could not, because every time she tried he was suddenly in another place. He was a blur of constant motion, with only the wail of the undead to mark his passing. A cloud of bone dust was filling the air again as he chewed through their numbers with his fists. Every time they managed to swarm him over, he simply fought back out again, tearing his way through them to the marrow. He broke the ribs off of one and used them to stab another through its vacant eyes. When one slashed him with his rusted axe, he tore the weapon - and its arms - free from its body, then used them to break the thing in half. The undead monsters he seemed to have the most fun with. Sometimes he would actually leap inside their empty, rotting ribs and break them apart from the inside. Other times he would rip off one of their enormous legs, bludgeoning them into powder with it before moving on.

The orgy of violence he was creating was having an impossibly fast effect. He was destroying them so quickly that the horde which had blanketed the hills outside of Oztroja an hour before could now all be contained in the valley before the castle. With unwavering single-mindedness, they sped into the end of their unnatural lives. Bit by bit, Xaijin grinded away at them, his knuckles now dripping blood from constant contact with shattered bone. As another result of their rapidly diminishing numbers, the sound of his laughter was beginning to overpower that of their haunting cries.

Thrusting himself forward, Xaijin launched headlong into the horde, his outstretched hands tearing the spines from two skeletons as he accelerated through them without pausing. He twirled the outstretched bones, bleached batons in his palms crushing their way through everything they came in contact with. Pulling one back, he cracked it like a whip, sending bones hurtling out in front of him. The projectiles crushed through everything they came in contact with, vertebrae smashing through the undead and leaving them with chunks of their decrepit bodies missing. By the time Xaijin had beaten the spines in his hands into dust, there was a mound of skeletons all around him, crawling as best they could with shattered legs, spines, or skulls.

The undying army which had enveloped the landscape of Meriphataud Mountains laid in ruins, its tattered remnants vainly trying to struggle their way towards the unstoppable force tearing through them. Xaijin stood at the epicenter of the unfathomable violence, looking with some annoyance at his bleeding hands. Hundreds of cuts and scrapes made his body as red as his hair, matted now with blood and bone dust. There was an electric swirl of energy around him as he shot a glance up towards the parapets of Castle Oztroja.

"What the hell are you doing, woman?" He shouted up in anger. "I'm practically bleeding out!"

"Well stay still for a damn second!" Odessa shouted down in response. She had her staff in the air, a bluish-white haze of magic swirling around her. An eruption of chi burst from underneath Xaijin's feet as he struggled to remain still, grinding his teeth in annoyance. As she released her magic, Odessa's web of ethereal light blossomed around his bleeding body. Open wounds began sealing over as severed skin and arteries knit themselves back together. He took a sharp breath as a feeling like being dunked in ice water swept over him, releasing the sigh as it passed.

"Hmph," he stared at his hands, wiping the blood off his palms. "My clothes are still in tatters," he complained.

"White magic can't knit clothes, idiot!" Odessa raged down at him. "Find a tailor! And your clothes were ruined already!"

"You're a woman, aren't you! You should be able to sew!"

"Go die in a fire!"

"I'll - "

Whatever it was Xaijin would do, it was cut off as a scepter of black light sliced across the battlefield. Instinctively, he dove to the ground as the energy swept past him, arching sharply up into the air. Odessa screamed, throwing up a protective ward as the obsidian wave struck the parapet beneath her, slicing completely through. The structure shook, trembling as its weight suddenly became unsupported, and then rapidly disintegrated beneath her. The White Mage lashed out desperately for a handhold as the tower tumbled down, finding nothing. Within moments she was in freefall, the ground rapidly rising up to catch her.

She lurched to a halt as something grabbed onto her. Her shoulder, still not recovered from her arrow wound, cried out as it was wrenched to a stop. Dangling for a moment, the shock overrode the pain as she looked down at the ground several hundred feet below, and then up to see what had her arm.

Xaijin's fingers were digging into the stones of Oztroja, and his eyes were blazing red as he stared out at the battlefield. Odessa turned her head, and instantly was drawn to the figure now in the midst of the undead army.

Xolotl, the Corse King, ancient scourge of mankind, had taken the field.

"How did you . . . ?" She looked down at where the Elvaan had been standing, compared to the impossible distance he had covered in a moment's time.

"I have strong legs," he said dismissively. As if to illustrate his point, he suddenly lashed out with one leg, crushing the wall inwards to reveal the innards of Oztroja. He haphazardly tossed her inside, where she tumbled head over heels with a thud and flurry of white robes.

"Hey!" She winced against the pain in her arm. "That was - "

"Stay back," he warned. "I'm not going to hold back anymore."

"But - " He cut her off with a glance. The red-haired Elvaan was not smiling anymore.

Without another word, he released his grip and hurtled towards the ground. This time there was no shockwave upon his landing, no crater caused by impact. He fell like a stone, landing in a crouch with his fist pointed down. Slowly, he raised his head, locking on to the ancient horror waiting across the battlefield.

Xolotl was tall, higher than seven feet, his rattling bones covered in blue robes tattered with age. Bone fingers wrapped around a length of gnarled and crooked wood, the staff surmounted with a trio of skulls, bones dangling from it at steady intervals. In his grasp, ancient runes carved into it glowed a ruddy and angry red. Tendrils of inky black smoke crept out from beneath the folds of his robes, a deadly miasma which stained the ground where he walked. His undead warriors crowded around him, snapping their jaws and baying like angry hounds at their master's feet.

Xaijin licked the blood off of his fists, intently watching the Corse King. The ancient Lich spoke, though the bones of his skull did not move. A voice simply echoed outwards from him, a hollow and dead voice that carried nightmares in its timbre.

"I will add you to my collection of bones," his voice declared without preamble. Just like that he thrust out his staff, and the undead horde charged forward again en masse. There were still thousands of them, clattering and howling, rushing towards Xaijin with renewed furor.

He watched with excitement swelling in his eyes. "This is the fight I wanted," he said. "I'm done with the rest of you."

With those words, he stretched out a single hand, and for a moment the light returned to Meriphataud Mountains.

A pulsating beam of energy made purely from his own chi burst outwards from his palm. The blinding white light stretched out over everything in front of him, sparing nothing in his line of sight. It made a sound, a booming rush like a hurricane blowing past all in one go, shaking everything within the walls of Oztroja. Xaijin's muscles bulged as his look of concentration twisted into a sneer of pleasure. Like a flame sputtering out, the light died at his hand and within moments has flickered out everywhere else as well.

All that remained of Xolotl's army was a field of cinders and ash, smoking atop a rocky ground where not a spot of frost remained. At the beginning of it Xaijin stood, lowering his still-glowing hand. At the other, the Corse King stared without reaction at the destruction, the few skeletons at his side the only ones left.

"I can be pretty scary, huh?" Xaijin grinned.

"They are as nothing to me, fool," Xolotl replied. "Destroy a thousand, a million of my slaves, and you will still have yet to touch my power."

"That's all I've wanted to do this whole time," the Elvaan replied. Like a shot, he ran forward, closing the distance between them. "They were just getting in my way!"

"Bring me his flesh," Xolotl ordered, and the last remnants of his force ran forward. "He will serve me yet."

Xolotl's twisted black staff, charged with the foulest eldritch might the undead sorcerer could muster, rained down ebon fire upon Xaijin. Still the Elvaan came, pulverizing rocks with every step as he ran towards the ancient enemy of life. His movements were impossible to follow, the only marking of his passing explosions of force where his aura smashed Xolotl's retainers into unrecognizable bits. With every passing second he grew closer, racing headlong into confrontation with the Corse King himself.

"Chattel," Xolotl hissed, slicing his staff through the air, "prepare for slaughter." A wall of black flame leaped up in front of him, scouring the ground with the taint of his magic. A cloud of dust shot up in front of it as Xaijin stopped short at its edge, ebon fire singing strands of his crimson hair. He straightened his neck, tossing back his fiery mane and staring with a cutting gaze at the towering skeleton.

"What's wrong?" Xaijin asked. "Too afraid to let me come near you?"

"Pitiful flesh," the Corse King hissed, "I am fear itself." At his words, the flames in front of Xaijin raced through the ground, encircling the Elvaan. A black miasma began spreading within the confines of the burning wall, choking the air from everything within it. "This miasma will consume you, and then I will grind your bones into nothing."

"Hh," Xaijin looked around the fiery tomb surrounding him, and then back through the black inferno to Xolotl. "This is supposed to be scary?"

"You will know fear," Xolotl cried, "I am - "

A torrent of white light surged from Xaijin's core, its ferocious might blasting apart Xolotl's black fire. The flames vanished into the air with a sputter, the Elvaan's unamused face emerging from their embrace.

"You're an idiot," Xaijin said quietly, "because I am fear."

The dust barely had time to be kicked up at his feet before Xaijin had charged forward, directly towards the Corse King.

Miasma burst up from the ground around Xolotl. With speed belying his size, he spun away from Xaijin's initial assault. His twisted staff glowed anew, and the poisonous fumes converged on the Elvaan. Just as quickly, Xaijin was off again. The warlock searched with hollow sockets for his quarry, and then looked up to find Xaijin plummeting down upon him from above. A primal cry of hatred escaping him, he thrust up his staff to impale the red-haired Elvaan upon it.

Xaijin's hands were faster, and his hands wrapped around the weapon as he came down, tearing it from Xolotl's hands. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he swung downwards with all his might. A crack of lightning accompanied by an unholy wailing and an expulsion of violent darkness escapes as the black shaft split in two on the ground, shattered by Xaijin's hands. Without even noting the phenomenon, he immediately spun back around and stabbed the half of its length still in his hands directly into the chest of the Corse King.

Xolotl cried in fury, staggering back as the broken remnants of his staff protruded from him. A dark fire burned in his eyes, black liquid flames spilling up from his mouth and dripping down onto the ground. Roaring insanely, he lunged for Xaijin with both hands, only to have his fingers locked between those of his quarry. The Elvaan and the Corse stood locked there, Xolotl pressing down on him as miasma dripped from his bones. Xaijin struggled, gritting his teeth as he was forced down to one knee, bracing himself against the frigid touch and unholy might of Xolotl.

And then he clenched his fists, breaking through Xolotl's bones and severing his fingers entirely. With his next motion he stood back up as he yanked backwards, and the Lich let out a demonic wail as his arms were torn free from their sockets.

Like a whirlwind, Xaijin launched forward, the thick bones of Xolotl's arms still held in his fists. Mercilessly, he rained down blows, using the Corse King's own arms to crack through his bones. Xolotl could not retaliate as the Elvaan splintered his ribs, cracked his skull, and shattered his spine, using bones which had moments before been his own as a weapon. His smile firmly carved into his face, Xaijin tossed one of the arms down, breaking it on the frozen ground. Then with both hands, he straightened out the other one and thrust it out like a spear, breaking through the Corse King's jaw and teeth and letting it explode out the back of his skull.

"This is . . . you cannot . . . " the words from Xolotl's skull were stunted as his body wavered back and forth, unsteady on its broken limbs. Xaijin lashed his arm up, taking hold of the towering fiend's jaw and bringing him down to look directly in the hollow sockets of his eyes. The festering miasma oozing out of him dissipated at the touch of Xaijin's monstrous aura.

"Tell me, Corse," he shouted, "are you scared of me yet?"

He did not wait for a reply. Xolotl struggled fruitlessly to break free from his grasp, but could not before Xaijin's other hand broke through his already-shattered sternum. The former prisoner began to glow, steam rising rapidly from his body, and as the Lich's struggling grew more frantic, so did his laughter rise.

White light poured out of Xolotl's skeleton, burning through him from the core. First came a blinding flash, and then a horrifying scream.

When it ended, Xaijin stood alone. A pile of burnt robes was at his feet, and still-smoking cinders of blackened bone rained down over him. All other traces of the horror which lurked Attowha Chasm since time long forgotten were gone, scoured from Vana'diel completely. Still smirking, Xaijin lowered his arm, looking slowly back towards Castle Oztroja.

"Tch . . ." Xaijin spun, raising his fists at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. "Looks like I was right to go ahead of the rest."

Behind him, standing atop a jutting rock formation, was a man in armor. If the cold was bothering him, he didn't show it as he stood bare-faced to the wind, a half-burned cigarette lingering in his mouth. One gauntlet-covered hand was planted on his waist, the other grasped the hilt of an absurdly large sword which he held behind his back. Its length was all but completely covered in white cloth, wrapped like bandages and held on by leather straps. He was an Elvaan as well, and also red-haired, though his was cropped shorter, and his build was thicker than Xaijin's by a fair amount.

"And who are you?"

The man sighed, flicking out the stub of tobacco left in his mouth and dragging his sword out from over his shoulder. "Mertron." He waved off the other Elvaan when he opened his mouth. "Don't sweat it, everybody knows who you are." Looking out across the battlefield, he shook his head regretfully. "That bone guy was supposed to make sure we'd avoid having to do this, you know? You're pretty bad news."

"Us," Xaijin repeated, his smile starting to creep back. "So you're with the army heading this way?"

"For now. I'm a mercenary, and they paid me to kill you. I don't suppose you can pay more?"

"Brother, I just got out of jail an hour ago, and before that I was a Monk. I don't even remember what money looks like."

"I was afraid of that." Mertron sighed again, and with one hand he started snapping free the leather restraints on his sword. One by one they flew off, and the white cloth enveloping it quickly unraveled. Xaijin took a surprised step back as an ominous wave of energy suddenly shot through him, enough to make the ground tremble. From underneath the cloth, a bright golden glow was radiating outwards.

"I don't really like doing this," the mercenary told him, taking the weapon in both hands. The cloth fell away entirely, revealing an entire blade burning with golden flame. From where he was, Xaijin could clearly feel its power as Mertron held it aloft. "But, you'd probably be a big problem down the line, so I have to take you off the board now. Sorry, Xaijin," he suddenly took to the air, heaving his sword up and cleaving downward with impossible speed, "but this is Ragnarok."