Those Who Would Not Be Gods

29. Duel:

The army was thinning. Anima felt it with the surety one feels in predicting rain when the air grows damp and the sky gray. He didn't need to turn to know that the ghouls were running out.

It didn't matter. He'd accomplished what he'd come here to accomplish.

Cajetan retreated. His eyes traced the man's path towards him at the same time his body deftly side-stepped a powerful blast of flame. Fickle as ever, more cat than man. He breathed in, almost a sigh. Or was it his keen battle-senses, telling him the fight was drawing to a close, and not in their favor? Either way, he didn't move to stop the man, but sent the ghouls a quiet command to open a path to allow his retreat. Best to keep his right hand alive for the time being.

There'd been a moment, in the heat of battle, when his ghouls had claimed they saw Tenebrae. But he'd had no time to check, and by the time Cecile had given him space to breathe, the ghouls had forgotten they'd ever seen such a thing. If the goddess had visited, she had vanished just as quickly.

Even now, you don't approve. An old thorn twisted deeper in his heart.

It didn't matter. He had moved on. If he couldn't have Tenebrae's Godstone, he would have Ignis'. Never mind that he had no fire in his pitch-black soul. He had a plan.

The spell had been fully cast. Even now, as Cecile bravely threw flames in his direction, as he countered with quick jabs of shadow, he could see the corruption spilling out from under her dress. Before, it had been aborted, too early to be of any use. Now, everything was perfect.

He'd almost had her, for a moment, there. It would've made half his plan pointless, but that was the nice thing about happy endings: less work. As it was, it was looking like he'd have to rely on luck or Cajetan, whichever favored him first. But that was the plan, after all. Eventually, one of them would favor him. There was no other way.

Cecile panted. The Godstone shone with each breath, rising and falling with her chest. Dark veins spread from the stone, almost touching his mark. She was nearing the end of her strength. And so, to his surprise, was he. He'd come here expecting an untrained child, and she was untrained in battle, but the sheer overwhelming strength of her power! Few could pull so much from the Godstone in the same day they ascended. If only I was born with such luck.

Anima sidestepped another blast of flame, not bothering to parry on this one. Instead, he twined the shadows together under his cloak, knitting them into a lance. This would be it. His final blow. He'd defeat her, or she him.

Lightning lashed out from behind him, flash! bang! in the very same second. His body convulsed, twisting against his will, and even he couldn't force it to stop. He twisted to look behind him, eyes wide with anger. Who interrupted my spell?

A young Shrineguard held her shortsword pointed at his back. She, too, was panting, eyebrows knitted in anger, teeth bared. Another Shrineguard was draped over her shoulders, bruised and bloodied but breathing. He took them in. Memorized their faces. You will be the first—

"Now, Cecile!" she shouted.

Fire consumed him, hotter than before. His body gave in. He sunk to his knees in defeat as fat dripped down his body, as flesh stripped from bone. It hurt in a distant way. In the way it always hurt.

He shut his eyes while he still had eyelids. So this is how it...