Undeath

Rygald knelt in a scorched crater, blood dripping from his eyes, ears and forehead. He panted heavily and pushed against the ground, but his arm wavered, apparently too weak to stand. Spitting purple blood, Rygald groaned, "That was my favorite artifact."

Osk gloated from his lofty position in the air above the crater he'd helped create by destroying Rygald's divine tool. "You deserve every loss you take here." Descending with his gleaming wand aimed Rygald's way, Osk continued his boasting. "I will ruin your domain beyond repair, stupid god. Never again will there be a god of undead or spirits." He leered at Rygald as a crackling red and black energy radiating malice formed on the star-like tip of the wand. "Then I'll have your own sister, who hates you more than anything else in this universe, take your life." Osk laughed wickedly, a chilling darkness creeping into his oceanic stare.

Rygald chuckled weakly, "What life? I have the appearance of life only. I am undead." His eyes flashed green briefly, unnoticed by Osk.

"Say whatever you like at the end," Osk sneered at the low and trembling Rygald, who appeared on the verge of dying. "I want to do this before Lisma can interfere. She'd probably just want to steal your power." Osk concentrated all his energy on his wand, purple lightning flowing from his fingertips up into the spell forming at the tip, transforming in form and substance into the crackling, electric black and red malicious energy. "Ni." Osk barked commandingly. The spell spread like crooked tree branches in a pattern around Rygald, jagged ends stabbing directly into his palms, biceps, and legs.

"Aaaah!" Rygald screamed out in torment, dust flowing out from him and immediately back in. His body was instinctively attempting to dissipate into its dusty form. The pain of being stabbed wasn't enough to cause this; Rygald felt a soul-searing heat, like high ampere electricity coursing through his consciousness.

The jagged energy spikes thrust further into Rygald as Osk taunted him, "Trying to change form? This magic was made for breaking gods; did you really think it couldn't prevent that?" Making a jabbing motion with his wand, Osk propelled the remnants of the spell forward, thrusting the branch-like spikes into Rygald's limbs, each landing precisely in order to avoid vital arteries. The red-colored crooked branches glowed from their tips, the radiance slowly traveling up the length of them. The black-colored branches slowly began turning white, as they grew hotter and hotter.

Rygald's screams echoed across Ischuros and beyond, a display of a god's despair. Anak and Shora halted their struggle by the palace momentarily, heads turning sharply towards the tower. Anak placed his hand instinctively over his heart. "Triac... Will he be okay?" Anak whispered with concern. He didn't receive an answer.

From the edges of the Armazel Academy's territory Tzipora clutched her bleeding ears, weeping in both pain and sorrow, as Rimanqu retreated with desperate speed. Across the city, all the citizens that burrowed within their homes, taking shelter from the chaos, wept. Their tears were automatically induced by the cries of the tormented god. At the entrance to the slave quarter, the boy Anak had sent away was stunned to silence. His neck craned towards the tower, above which dark clouds reflected a malicious light.

Mere meters away from the tower, Lisma bore an irate expression as she sped at her top speed towards the scene of Osk and Rygald. Purple and green lightning struck where the pair of gods stood accompanied by a calamitous thunder, and one last scream echoed forth from the god of spirits and undead, before he collapsed on his face at the bottom of the crater.

"Osk!" Lisma raged, "His life was mine!" She swung her arm, a sword materializing mid-way as she struck the air between Osk and Rygald, before standing in the water god's path. "Or was that not the agreement we made?" She stared down the leader of her pantheon wrathfully.

"I know, I know. I wasn't killing him. Look, you can clearly see he's still alive." Osk gestured with a finger vigorously at Rygald's limp but breathing body, hiding his other hand within his sleeve at his side.

"Clearly?" Lisma scoffed. "You mean barely. There's no pleasure in it for me." She scowled as she slid down the crater towards Rygald.

"Oh? So did you find it more pleasurable when he had you backed into a corner?" Osk teased.

"Actually, yes." Lisma fired back, before stooping in front of the motionless Rygald. "At least that way I could see the hurt, betrayed look in his eyes." She stared at Rygald's seemingly unconscious form with a conflicted gaze. However, his eyes suddenly opened, and he aimed his pupils up towards his sister looming over him.

"What about this? Is this a look you find pleasurable?" Rygald's eyes displayed wrath and bitterness, even as tears formed in the ducts, flowing only partway down his desiccated green cheeks before being absorbed into the parched skin.

Lisma shuddered, and her eyes curved upwards in delight. "Ohh, yes. Thank you Rygald, that's very nice." She beamed devilishly and, turning his wounded and immobilized body upright, thrust her sword through the center of his chest. A sonorous cracking reverberated throughout the city as she plunged it to the hilt. "Now die." She whispered with the voice of one who'd just won a huge gamble and couldn't believe it was true. She had pierced the nucleus of concentration that maintains the existence of a god, and houses their consciousness, in one strike. It was a powerful display by the goddess of war; in less than a minute, Rygald would die.

High above the heavy clouds, hovering over Vinetum's atmosphere, Triac watched on with a steady gaze. Here was his primary being, only a fragment of his voice and power was with Anak for support. Standing in the heavens, Triac had his arms folded behind his back, watching Rygald's struggle intently.

From below, shooting through the clouds, the Demon King darted Triac's way with a wicked grin. "Will you not help the one who ran so desperately for your aid?" he mocked as he approached.

Not even glancing his way, Triac replied, "Who said I haven't helped?"

Asmodeus scowled in displeasure, hoping to get a rise out of the Most High. "Well, he's about to die! Where's the divine intervention?"

Triac smiled slightly, a warmth flooding his eyes as he looked at Rygald. "He fights for more than his life, mad one. You could never understand his heart."

As Lisma stood triumphantly over her defeated brother's body, and he lay on the scorched and scattered rubble, bleeding from his chest and his back, Rygald's upward stare suddenly softened, the anger just an act to make her strike. Tears flowed in streams from his eyes. "I forgive you, Lisma... better put, I never resented you. I..." Rygald coughed up a vast quantity of purple blood, raspily forcing himself to keep speaking, as he strained to raise his head, even just slightly. "I knew you always hated me, even as you smiled and acted through it all. But... you're my sister. Even as I saw the hint of loathing in your smile, I just... couldn't reciprocate. I love you...sister."

Lisma reared back, her face twisted in disgust. "Shut up, interloper! You had no place in our family! You were already dead! Back then! When I killed your abhorrent baby face! What right did you have to come back as an undead!" Her screams were slightly unhinged as she resisted Rygald's brotherly affection.

Rygald slightly smiled, "I only tell you this because..." Rygald coughed up another pool of blood, as his time drew close. "Well, I'm sorry..." Breathing out these last words, Rygald's head fell heavily to the dirt. He had died.

From his toes, moving upwards, Rygald's body began to decay unnaturally quickly, time finally catching up to the undead deity. Osk and Lisma watched on in satisfaction while the body of their old comrade was reduced to a skeleton. Their expressions quickly changed, however, as the flesh fell from Rygald's rib-cage. Revealed within, a dense, black ball flickering with necrotic energies whirled in the place where his heart used to be.

"Move!" Osk warned, but he was too late, as the ball darted into Lisma's left eye-socket, bursting open the eye before burrowing in her skull. Once inside, it spread like fog, permeating her brain. Lisma dropped to her knees screaming as she clutched her head. "A parting gift from the undead god." spat Osk, "I thought I broke his domain, so how...?" Osk's dark and watery pupils dilated in shock, "Wait- that spell! Did he actually complete it?"

Lisma cried out excruciatingly once more and fell further to the ground, propping herself up by her elbows. "Osk, help me!" She shrieked between her cries of pain. She was certain if this kept up she would die.

"It'll be tricky," Osk mused, pulling out his wand. "Let me try this." A vibrant green aura coated the tip of the wand, completely opposite to the rotten green color of Rygald's necrotic energy. With a flourish, Osk commanded "Sfilre lis." From within the green aura, yellow beams of light gathered like waves, before rushing towards Lisma's shattered eye in a flood. Lisma screamed at an even higher pitch as the light rushed through her skull, and fell to her face, sweat dripping from every pore on her body. She groaned as pain wracked her mind once more from Rygald's spell, lacking the energy to scream.

"Did it work?" Osk inquired dumbly, earning him a glare from Lisma. "Damn." the god of magic cursed, "It looks like he did finish his spell. Lisma, he used 'Divine Undeath.'" His voice carried the weight of a terminal diagnoses.

Tears sprang to Lisma's eyes, and she raspily screamed at the skies in despair. "Son of a bitch!"