Path of Nefarious [2]

For a moment, no one moved or spoke. Then, slowly, a few of the soldiers began to sink to their knees, bowing their heads in submission. Others followed suit, until the entire battlefield was filled with the sound of murmured pledges of allegiance to the new king.

Gooforso surveyed the battlefield, his gaze taking in the carnage and destruction that surrounded him. The bodies of fallen soldiers lay scattered across the blood-soaked ground, their armor and weapons glinting in the dim light of the noon sun.

Amid the chaos, Gooforso stood tall, his expression determined and his eyes blazing with a fierce intensity. He had achieved his first goal, but he knew that his first beginning work was only just a half. The path to true power would be a long and treacherous one, but he was ready to take it, no matter the cost.

Gooforso then turned towards the sky, his voice rising in a fervent prayer. "O, Father of Sin, Creator of Nefarious, hear me! I offer you this war and these corpses as tribute. Grant me your essence and let me walk higher on your path. Accept my sacrifice and reward me with your power, so that I may become a worthy servant and champion of your evil will."

As he spoke, the wind seemed to shift, blowing across the battlefield with an eerie chill. The air grew heavy with a palpable sense of darkness, and the soldiers still living shrank back in fear, sensing the presence of some malevolent force.

His prayer echoed in the air, a desperate plea for power. But no answer came. Only a surge of dark energy that crackled and hissed like a nest of vipers. The blood from his slaughtered enemies and kin stirred and slithered, drawn to him by a sinister force. It rose in a towering wall of red, spinning and swirling like a tornado of gore. The sun vanished behind the bloody curtain, plunging the center forest from the daylight into crimson night.

The soldiers around him stared in awe and fear as he raised his sword to the sky, his voice echoing across the battlefield in a triumphant cry. "Behold, the age of the evil champion has begun!"

Gooforso stood at the heart of the storm, his eyes burning with an unholy light. Below Gooforso's feet and above the sky, a giant magic circle appeared both, its lines and symbols shining with a dark crimson light. The circle beat and pounded, as if it had a heartbeat, and then the one above his head burst open with a loud crack, exposing a jagged portal. The portal looked like a gaping wound in the sky, leading to the very depths of hell.

From within the portal emerged two massive, demonic fingers, their skin a sickly grayish-red, and their claws glistening with slime and grime. The fingers were as large as tree trunks, and they exuded an aura of pure, unadulterated evil. They pointed towards Gooforso, seeming to single him out as their target.

The soldiers watched in horror as the fingers reached down towards Gooforso, their movements slow and deliberate, as if they were savoring the moment. Some of the soldiers fled in terror, while others dropped to their knees, pleading for mercy from the demonic force that was now amongst them.

Gooforso's eyes widened as he beheld the fingers, twisted and blackened by evil. His chest heaved as he stared at them, feeling their dark aura wrap around him like a suffocating cloak. And then, as if to seal his fate, drops of blood began to drip from the demonic fingers, splashing onto him like a baptism of blood.

As the blood touched his skin, Gooforso felt a sudden, intense surge of dark energy coursing through his veins. It was as if his entire being was being infused with the malevolent power of the evil deity he had invoked. He threw back his head and let out a howl of triumph, feeling the power of darkness flowing through him like a raging river.

Gooforso cackled with glee as he felt the dark energy pulsing through him, feeding his insatiable desire for power. "Yes, yes!" he cried out, his voice echoing within the crimson wall. "I will advance two stages! More! I need more! Sins and sacrifice!"

Just then, a thunderous sound reverberated through the crimson wall around him, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. 

Bam!

Bam!

Gooforso glanced at the corner of his eye. The kobold king was attacking in a rage. He couldn't make out his words, but he heard the sound of his greatsword striking the red wall that protected him.

The kobold king was like a force of nature, his greatsword a blur as he struck the wall again and again, his powerful muscles straining with each blow. With a final roar, the kobold king unleashed all his remaining strength on the translucent crimson wall.

Bam!!!

The wall cracked, a fissure spiderwebbing across its surface, but not enough. The kobold king fell. Gooforso watched with a mixture of amusement and contempt as the once-proud king collapsed, his strength drained and his hope fading. It was a reminder of the inevitable fate of all those who opposed the forces of evil. And for Gooforso, it was a moment of triumph, a sign that his own power was growing with each passing moment.

Gooforso smiled, but his smile faded when he saw a figure of a human, a young man with white hair, running towards him. He gestured at the young man, and his followers tried to stop him.

The young man who appeared on the scene was a striking figure, with piercing red eyes and flowing white hair that seemed to glint in the dim light of the forest. He wore clothing that was both functional and stylish, with small armor plates strategically placed to provide protection without hindering his movement. At his side hung three weapons - two longsword and a dagger - that seemed to almost hum with anticipation as he faced off against Gooforso's minions.

Despite his youthful appearance, the young man moved with a confidence and skill that belied his age, his body seeming to flow like water as he dodged and parried the attacks of his opponents. It was clear that he was no ordinary warrior, and Gooforso couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease as he watched the young man make his way towards the cracked crimson wall.

As he drew closer to Gooforso, the young man's red eyes blazed with a fiery determination, his gaze never leaving the bloody figure that stood before him. There was a sense of destiny in his movements, as if he were a character in a story who had been written into existence for this very moment.

"No... no, no, no, no. Stop! Don't do it!!!" Gooforso screamed, realizing that if the young man succeeded in destroying the wall, he might be able to disrupt the dark ritual and foil Gooforso's plans.

Too late.

Crack!

The young man's fist connected with the wall, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the air. Gooforso watched in horror as the crimson barrier crumbled, its fragments falling to the ground like drops of blood.

Suddenly, strong hands seized him by the throat, lifting him effortlessly and flinging him out of the circle. Gooforso sailed through the air, gasping for breath as he soared over the battlefield.

He still watched in horror as the crimson wall crumbled behind him, sealing the portal. The crimson light fading away like a dying ember. The two demonic fingers that had reached through, so full of promise and power, now scrabbled desperately at the edges of the portal, their claws scraping against the sky as they tried to cling to the last vestiges of their hold on this world.

But it was no use. The portal vanished, taking with it the hope of ultimate power that Gooforso had so coveted. The sky above returned to its normal hue, as if nothing had ever happened.

Gooforso hit the ground hard, his body crumpling like a rag doll. He lay there for a moment, dazed and disoriented, his mind struggling to process what had just happened.

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, his body protesting with every movement.

Gooforso's ritual to ascend his path had failed, his dreams of power were now nothing more than ashes in the wind. But Gooforso knew that everything had changed. His ritual had failed, his plans in tatters. And standing before him, his piercing gaze boring into Gooforso's soul, was the one who had thwarted him - Arthanis.