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Ashborn 448: The God of Death
🕑 Added 2025-03-20 18:00:08 +0000 UTCVir stepped through Ashani’s Gate to frigid snow and a dark, silent forest that was just starting to brighten with the opening rays of dawn. Ashani, Maiya, and his one-hundred seven stood ready and waiting, boots sinking in into the snow, with three fully assembled airships behind them. Some crouched while others stood, but all remained motionless and utterly silent despite most having never even seen snow in their lives. They were his prized Warriors, tempered in the fires of the Ash.
To think that the most elite force in all the realms had once been an assemblage of malnourished farmers, traders, and slaved only made Vir’s chest swell with pride. Though they would never dare think the same, Vir looked upon them as nothing less than equals, or perhaps even his betters. They were, without a doubt, among the highest quality individuals he had ever known.
With him, they made a hundred and eight. An auspicious number, passed down through the scriptures of the gods, though Vir had never thought to ask Ashani why.
He glanced at the goddess and thought better of it. Some other time, perhaps.
“We are assembled today to decimate an army,” Vir said succinctly. Though not one of them had been briefed on the nature of this mission or why they’d crossed into a realm they’d scarcely even knew existed, not a single one expressed concern or anxiety. To their seric steel minds, it was a mission like any other. One ordained by their god himself.
Which, of course, made Vir experience a sudden wave of insecurity. It was halted by Maiya squeezing his arm and flashing him a gentle smile. She knew him so well…
Vir shook off the thought and offered a bit more in way of explanation. “We stand in the land of Sai, a small nation about to be besieged by an empire known as Kin’jal. These invaders are led by a fierce Warrior, a man by the name of Andros, who seeks to conquer the lands of my friend and ally. We will not let this happen. From here, we travel south where we will drop down upon this enemy, annihilating his troops.
“The goal is not to eliminate, but to send a message. To show to Andros and the others that my friend bears the backing of a force greater than this realm has ever seen!”
His one-hundred and seven let out a single cheer before returning to their silence.
“Then, if there are no questions, let us depart. The Chitran amass, and I am loath to keep you from your training.”
— —
“You’ve really changed,” Maiya said once they were airborne. Ashani rode atop another airship, and so they were now alone on the deck with the Asura, who busied themselves attending to the airship’s various functions.
“Have I?” Vir asked, squinting into the distance, where Kartara’s walls could be faintly seen.
“Not here,” Maiya said, touching his chest, before moving her fingers to his lips. “Here. and here.” Her fingers moved to his head. “You’ve become a leader. Someone who inspires trust in those he commands. Someone who commands respect.”
Vir laughed lightly. “You’d be amazed at what a pair of horns and an aura of black flames can do for your impression.”
Maiya rolled her eyes. “You’d have all that you have today even without that. That just… makes the bards sing about you for millennia to come.”
Vir laughed again. “I missed this. Chatting with you. Spending time together. More and more, I feel like you’re the only one I can talk to like this.”
“I know,” Maiya said softly. “And I’ve felt the same, actually. It makes sense, I suppose. It’s lonely at the top.”
“That it is,” Vir replied wistfully, gazing off into the horizon. “I’m about to kill a lot of people, Mai.”
“For the greater good,” she replied. “For a brighter future.”
Vir let out a breath through his nose. “You’re right. I have changed. So have you. Years ago, we’d never have been able to condemn thousands to their deaths with nary a second thought.”
“That’s not—”
“No, Mai, it is,” Vir said. “You’re right. I’ve become a leader. Because I had to. You became the Blessed Chosen. Because you had to. Neither of us wished for any of this, and yet it’s what Fate has landed in our lap.”
Maiya’s expression darkened. “Yes, Fate. Vir, when this is over, we need to have a talk. Somewhere no one can hear. Somewhere truly, utterly private.”
Vir raised a brow. “Is this about the—”
“Yes,” Maiya said. “Do not say their name. Do not mention them. They can hear. Everything, maybe. I don’t know. But we must have that conversation.”
Vir nodded slowly. “Of course. It’ll be our top priority, after this and the Chits.”
Maiya nodded, looking like a great boulder had been lifted from her shoulders. “Good. That’s good. Somehow, this is all a lot easier to sort through with you by my side.”
“That makes two of us, Mai,” Vir said with a smile.
Maiya let out a frigid breath. Heat orbs kept her warm under her thick fur cloak, while the torrents of prana that surged within the bodies of Vir and the Asuras made them largely immune to such concerns.
“Wish I had that ability,” Maiya muttered.
“I don’t really need to sleep, either,” Vir said, which prompted Maiya to stick out her tongue, before suddenly becoming aware of her surroundings and glancing furtively at the nearby Asuras.
Not one said a thing, but Maiya was too aware of their abilities to believe she’d given them the slip.
“They’ll be talking about this for days, won’t they?” she asked.
“Probably,” Vir said, smiling.
Maiya sighed. “Serves me right, I suppose. You’d think I’d have learned how to act like a proper leader with the Blessed Chosen. It’s all your fault.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Vir replied heartily, before adding, “they respect you, you know?”
“They… do, don’t they?” Maiya said, sound almost confused. “Despite me being a human. It’s like they just didn’t care. The moment they realized I was your Rajni… You see? That’s how much faith they have in you.”
“It’s not just me, Mai. They recognize you for the strong, fair character you are. Demons almost have a sixth sense for this kind of thing. Power is core to their society.”
“I see…” Maiya replied. “And yet, any one of them could trounce me, should they ever choose to.”
“Different kind of strength,” Vir said. He was about to elaborate when a myriad of black dots in stark contrast to the pristine white came into view far below. “It would seem we’ve arrived.”
Rows and rows of tents had been pitched and small fires burned throughout the camp.
“They have no idea what’s about to hit them,” Maiya muttered. “Are you—”
“I’ll be fine,” Vir replied, knowing what she was about to ask. “Be it on a field of battle or within a camp, a slaughter is a slaughter. I only wish Andros appears, so I can pay him back for what he did to you and Ira.”
“Don’t kill him,” Maiya said, though her frigid tone made it clear her words weren’t born from sympathy. “It’s too soon for Andros to die. I promise you, when that day comes, I want his death to be slow and painful.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Vir said. “Now, will you be joining us? Or will you observe from here?”
“Both,” Maiya said with a grin. “I’m a mejai, remember? I’m at my best with some distance. Have your Asuras fly the airship lower. I’ll rain down spells from above.”
Vir smiled. “Of course.”
— —
There was no ungainly landing, no period of vulnerability for their enemies to exploit.
No, all one hundred eight demons who jumped off their airships had long ago grown immune to such minor concerns as death by falling.
From high in the air, the demons dropped upon the unsuspecting camp. Some landed on the backs of Kin’jal Balarian warriors who’d sat down for a meal, crushing them. Others used the confusion of their landing to sever heads before they even realized they’d been attacked, while others still unleashed Warrior Chakra attacks before they’d even landed, crippling the hapless souls of those who dared go against their Akh Nara’s wishes.
The Asuras were like a natural phenomenon—a plague that swept through the camp.
There was no fight here. No valiant baring of arms or summoning of courage. Enemies were stricken in their sleep and in the midst of conversation, and by the time the bells tolled and the horns sounded, a full third of Andros Kin’jal’s force of twenty thousand had been exterminated.
Abiding by his Rajni’s wishes, Vir deployed his flashiest attack, donning the mantle of the Demon God before deploying Balancer of Scales to devastating effect.
Fueled by the surging torrent of Prana Current, which took Vir’s already monstrously dense prana and multiplied it tenfold, the soft and fleshy humans stood no chance.
Forget fighting or even being able to stand—their bones snapped from the pressure and their organs collapsed, ending their lives in an instant.
A single application of the Ultimate Art, activated for the span of only a few seconds, had killed hundreds. They didn’t resist or cry in pain.
All simply fell before the onslaught of a god’s wrath, and through it all, Vir felt but one thing—disappointment.
These were the Warriors who towered over him all his life? These were the weaklings who thought to invade countries and wreck innocents’ lives?
These… weaklings?
Each and every soldier present could not have boasted a Balar Rank below ten. Some might even have reached upwards of a hundred—a figure that would have deeply impressed Vir only years ago.
Now? They died as quickly as the rest.
A fireball came rushing at Vir. He neither dodged nor parried. In fact, he didn’t pay it any mind at all as it crashed into him, exploding harmlessly.
For him, that was. The fire began to burn the Kin’jal nearest him before Vir ended his suffering.
Yes, Aspect of the Demon God multiplied Vir’s armor, yet he doubted he even needed the spell to survive anything these mejai threw at him. And mejai generally possessed Balar Ranks higher than their Talent-wielding counterparts.
If they were in the hundreds, then what was Vir? A thousand? Ten thousand? A hundred?
The scale had never been designed for beings such as himself. Still, Vir supposed he could’ve annihilated this army without too much trouble. It would have taken him far longer than without his Asura, yet he had little doubt he’d have succeeded.
Vir was not prone to arrogance. He halved his Balar Rank, setting it at an even ten thousand.
By the time he came out of his thoughts, every human around him was dead, and only Asuras remained.
“Akh Nara,” someone said, kneeling before him. “We’ve destroyed half of their army. Shall we dispose of the rest?”
Ten thousand souls. Dead within half of a single hour.
Vir took a deep breath. “No,” he said, scanning the battlefield for any sign of Andros. There was none. The Imperator was not here. “We’ve set out what we came to do. Let the survivors spread word of what transpired here today. Let our enemies quake in fear with the knowledge that their petty games and politics are naught before the might of true power. I’ve kept you long enough from your training. Let us return to the Ash and prepare to fight our true foes.”
In response, there were only cheers.
— —
Maiya could only clutch the railing with white knuckles as she witnessed the carnage. Spells? What spells? What power could match Vir and his army from another realm?
Methodically, brutally, they swept the camp.
And when the Kin’jals finally rallied and brought their arms and Talents to bear, it was as though someone had lit a candle in a hurricane.
Before overwhelming, absolute supremacy, all was naught.
Maiya fell to her knees, trembling. She thought she’d gained power. She thought she’d risen into the upper echelons of mejai, only to be shown, once again, that her childhood friend had far outstripped her. In the face of these arts, human magic was nothing but child’s play—their singular advantage lying in the sheer number of humans that existed.
There was no doubt in her mind. Demons were superior—in physique, in their understanding of prana, and in their arts. If not for their barren land, the Demon Realm would stand incomparably higher.
Maiya clenched her fists. Once again, she was being left behind.
And once again, she refused to accept that reality with every shred of her being. She would venture into the Ash. She would subject her body to the poisonous prana.
And she would prevail.
