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The Gamer Chapter 1867 – End and Angel [Lucifrena POV]
🕑 Added 2025-04-15 19:33:15 +0000 UTCLucifrena channelled the might of her soul into the aegis. The golden light rippled with every impact of the manifold tendrils. She clutched the symbol of HIS sacrifice tightly to her chest, as the barrage continued to find new angles to assail her and those she had sworn to herself to ward. “Support me as best you can,” that was the only request she could make, for she did not know how they fought.
“We will,” he who was blessed by her responded.
A deep nod of gratitude was all she could spare. Her six wings stretched, feathers loosening from the energy skeleton beneath and joining the aegis as reinforcements. Hexagonal segments emerged from the spherical shield, further and further adding to the structure around her.
As her defensive preparations rose, so did the abomination weave together its next attack. Runes the span of her wings surfaced through overlapping white mycelium from the grey of spored and fungal fruits. Titanic thorns curved out of the ground like the curling fingers of a tainted grip. Even with all of that, the scene was quiet. All the monument to a successful eradication produced was the slight hum of releasing spores.
Lucifrena saw the magic flow away from the runes, driven out of them and pulled into the seven pillars surrounding the main body. She prepared herself for the pain.
Undoing washed over the aegis. It shred the magical connections in an instant. Yet, the power of the attack was matched by the power of her defence. What crawled over her skin was nothing but a light caress of anti-magic, failing to leave as much as a disruption on her golden skin.
The thorns sliced through the air. An immediate offense met with an immediate defence. The steady stream of feathers, manifestation of her overflowing soul, was called to her fingertips, where they joined into a vortex that was as much shield as it was blade. Her might met the outcroppings of the creature, trimming the thorns. It was no more consequential than clipping the nails of a giant.
“Run now!” Lucifrena ordered, as harshly as she dared to. She did not look back. All of her concentration lay now in stepping forwards. One step after another, a desperate forwards, pushing through the tendrils before the runes before her could discharge themselves of the magic imbued in their creation.
The abomination attempted to stop her with dark tendrils and slicing thorns, but Lucifrena advanced all the same. When she was finally in range, the swirling shield of feathers turned into a streak of light. It pierced the target true, then transformed from fluid mana into a crucifix of golden crystal. An expansion and a devastation to the root network. The mana void within the rune pulled away at the excess of Lucifrena’s might. Synapses burned out in an instant from the feedback, before the first foe could cut off these parts of itself.
Immediately, new tendrils broke from the now unmarred soil. Lucifrena’s feathers burned as a three-layered halo behind her head, granting her the strength to pick up the cross she had made. It sliced through two of the tendrils coming for her, but the third shattered it. The thorned root dragged itself over Lucifrena’s chest, as her weapon dissolved into motes of light. Little sparks of gold that were swallowed by the ever intensifying smog of spores.
The reincarnating angel sought safety in the skies, rising on six wings at hypersonic speed. She weaved through a network of roots that filled even the sky. A three-dimensional cage, in which she was assailed from every direction. She could only keep moving, to avoid the direct threat of the thorns and the nebulous one of the runes. They had to be aimed, that much was clear.
Explosions of fire, light and arcane gave away where the others were fighting. Lucifrena flew three circles around the central mound of the forgotten precursor. The blessed one and his women were carving their way towards one of the pillars as quickly as they could go. Lucifrena put her trust in them managing to destroy the one.
She needed to retain the attention of the abomination until then.
Forming a protective cocoon with her wings, Lucifrena dived to the floor. A wave of holy energy exploded outwards from where she impacted the flexible floor. Spores turned to ash and fungal fruits caught golden fire. She rose, for a moment staring at her enemy. It stared back, a million fine synapses in the air, from spore to spore, sensing her more accurately than eyes ever could.
Lucifrena went on the offensive. A fresh overflow of feathers was turned into a hail of needles. Each quill that buried itself into the manifold body of the first foe flashed with radiant might, then turned into a cross the size of a longsword, burrowing deeper into the enemy. After loosening two salvos like this, the primordial Lorylim met her attack with its own.
Dozens of larger tendrils knotted together into a sinewy vine, its tip parting like a corpse flower lined with teeth. Reaching over her shoulder, Lucifrena withdrew all feathers of one wing, leaving behind only the fluid branch of energy that sat at its core. Feathers melted into a mass of liquid gold, a shield of gleaming energy that met the charging tendril head on. Adrenaline stretched the moment the two forces met to a crawl. For an infinite second, they were locked, forces matched, then the rebound incinerated the tip of the tendril and sent the excess of magic flying upwards, burning its way through the layers of roots that filled the air, until it disappeared behind the cover of spore clouds.
The tendril instantly regenerated, its scorched tip shed in an explosion of grey sap. Lucifrena withdrew all might from a second wing to meet the assault of the tendril for the second time. A third time, a fourth time, a fifth time, then, finally, the sixth time, until all of her wings were bare. Each time, the mass of gold was launched into the sky beyond her sight.
All that her overflowing soul produced was immediately consumed in volleys to counter the manifold lesser tendrils that were still assailing her from all sides. The massive vine came for her once more, and this time, she had no choice but to run again.
On featherless wings, her flight was greatly diminished. She rested them fully, relying only on the speed of her legs. Mana coursed through the veins of this nearly completed body. She ran as fast as she could, leaping off shattered stones and tendrils that did not react fast enough to her advance. The massive vine parted into its segments, to give chase to her.
She was a streak of glorious light within a cage of white, grey and black. She was an angel of hope within a hell of another species’ making. She was fast – but not fast enough. The primordial Lorylim constricted her paths bit by bit. A runic network activated in her path, causing a disastrous discharge of electrical energy. She stayed two steps short of it. Her standing still was all the abomination had wanted.
The main body of the creature bent with a speed a living mound should not have had. It dove beneath her, then came up, a seven-sided maw opened around her. Dozens of large tendrils surrounded her. One pierced her shoulder, ruining any chance of escape before she could as much as crouch. Three more thorns sunk into her body, pulling her into the fungal abyss.
Within the primordial Lorylim, spores replaced air as the dominant presence. Spores that rapidly combined, devouring each other symbiotically, creating layers and layers of mycelium around her, wrapping her up in a cocoon that pressed against the radiant aegis her bare wings had created around her reflexively.
Lucifrena was alone in the world all of a sudden. There were no sounds. She had no heartbeat, not quite yet, she did not breathe, and neither did it. Even the slicing of the thorns that had already sunk into her body were quiet in the way they tortured her. In the absence of stimuli, there was something comforting. In the pain, she found a path to walk. In the world that HE had left to the children of God, she was reborn once more.
The angel took hold of the cross she had hung around her neck. The extremity of the combat had dented the gold. One of the sides had been cut off at some point. Still, the three words remained clear on its surface: in nomine Christi.
In HIS name, she would be victorious.
Lucifrena concentrated within her the might of her eternal soul. Many lives lived, many memories lost, even HIS face was no longer as clear as it used to be, but the message was as truthful as it had always been. Sacrifice must be made to vanquish evil.
The first pulse of power forced the mycelium cocoon backwards. It constricted around her immediately.
To fight was to stand, to stand was to believe, to believe was to continue in the name of a better tomorrow. That which was broken could be mended. That which had been could be once more. That which did not repent was not worthy of grace.
The second pulse of power tore and burned the cocoon around her. New layers were swiftly made.
To live was to know, to take aim, to progress, to falter, to fall, to stand again. To die was to surrender, to never rise again. To be a martyr was to give everything for victory when the time was right. Few were saintly enough to know when that time had come. Lucifrena had never been and so she would fight until the bitter end.
The third pulse thinned the cocoon around her. Lucifrena kicked the floor beneath her with all her might. Her wings spread, covered entirely with fresh feathers. Even as the thorns cut deep grooves into her, the reincarnating angel rose. She tore through thorns and roots and spores as a pillar of holy fire, stopping above the centre of the battlefield.
She did not have the luxury to scan for the blessed one and his companions. The primordial Lorylim, its top swiftly resealing itself, came after her with a vengeance. Runic networks were woven within seconds. Explosions of fire, lightning, shadow and ice chased after her as she moved around. Each was a hurried attempt to catch her. Angry, desperate proof that even this creature had its limits.
In a brief gap between manifold attacks, Lucifrena caught the state one of the pillars was in: total eradication.
Chased by dozens of tendrils, Lucifrena rose to the top of the mycelium dome. Thorns sprouted beneath, greeting her with a circle of teeth. All were shattered by the shockwave of her wide-spread wings. Facing the abomination, a faint outline in dense grey spores, she reached behind herself to the sky.
The mass of energy that she had first blocked the massive tendril with responded to her call. It burst through the cover of clouds, revealing itself as a crucifix the size of a cathedral tower. Sharp tip down, it descended, nourished by the energy of the world soul. It was a nail in the coffin of the primordial Lorylim, skewering one of the six remaining towers surrounding the main body. It was a glorious impact of holy flame and purifying light. It was a terrible shame of forsaken memories and deep sin.
The tormented scream of the Lorylim rang out through the forest. It was the sound of cracking woods, shattering stone, and shifting soil. It was the sound of waves, of the entire island getting rearranged by the spasms of burning mycelium. Lucifrena’s mana pulsed through the enigmatic system and the five other swords pierced the clouds above.
One after another, they burned the stain of the pillars away, devastating the first foe where it had permeated the soil. The mycelium sphere was consumed in a storm of golden flame. Lucifrena sent volley after volley into the thick spore cloud.
A knotted vine speared out of the cover of grey. It caught the angel between two teeth. A shield kept her from taking damage, but not from being ripped back down into the grey cloud. She was slammed, hard, into the ground. Millions of mycelial synapses all around her tore, the central body cutting loose all of itself that was getting burned from creation.
Mass surfaced. The fungal mound was never visible in its entirety. It was too large, too covered in the fog of spores. It was a black and grey abomination, shifting constantly in its shape. Bulbs expanded and retracted like exposed lungs, blowing grey dust into the air. The ground was turning to sand, every bit of organic matter in it getting devoured by the primordial Lorylim. Gargantuan gashes opened up on mushroom caps the size of houses. They were thrust at Lucifrena in a desperate bid to catch her. It was mighty, it was terrifying, but it was not fast.
“My Lord, test me,” the angel began to chant, deep in prayer. “My Lord, know me.”
The creature carved runes into the soil, causing the entire island to quake. Lightning storms chased Lucifrena. On golden wings, she left them in the dust.
“My Lord, put me through your harshest trials.”
Lucifrena came to a sudden halt midair. Time felt like it moved through molasses once more. She exhaled, though she had no lips, and closed her eyes, putting her faith once more in HIM. When her hands grasped inexplicable wood, she released the smooth, curved form with one hand and found the taut string.
“For I know of your benevolence.”
Eyes opening, she pulled back the bowstring. It had behind it the weight of the world. The six enormous crosses created earlier turned into motes of light, as did all the small crystal creations all over the battlefield. Each was a remnant of her feathers, each was a remnant of her overflowing soul, each was proof of her faith and all consolidated into a singular white-gold arrow.
“For I will never sin!”
She let loose the arrow. It was divine judgement made manifest. It was the rupturing of the foe before her, tearing the abominable maw apart, alongside the body behind it. It scorched a straight path through the island, well past where their battle had occurred, ending only when it turned part of the ocean to steam. The bow in her hand was shattered by the event, her wings consumed, all energy used up and dispersed into a blast to her left, right and behind.
Lucifrena hung in the air for one more moment, running on fumes. Then, she fell, her power expended. She managed, just barely, to reduce her fall to a glide. When she landed, her knees immediately gave out and she sat down on sandy soil.
Golden skin began to peel away, revealing beneath a deep brown. It was the skin colour she was familiar with, even if it was not the one she had always inhabited. The final manifestation was finally upon her. She could feel her heart begin to beat once more in service of the Lady and the Son.
“Wow.”
The exclamation made her turn to those she had come to protect. She smiled with half a mouth, only part of her face fully constructed yet. “I am pleased to see that you have survived.”
“We’re pretty tough,” Rave said.
“We also have a long cooldown on Harem Gamer now,” John threw in, then focused on her. “This is the second time you have saved our lives from the Lorylim. You have my deepest thanks.”
“It is my belief that you would have prevailed without me. The costs, however, would have been-“
The ground below the Gamer’s feet burst open. A fungal abomination the size of a dog latched itself onto his chest. Silver defences sparked, then faded. Lucifrena tried to get on her feet, but her legs gave before she stood fully. The women around the Gamer reacted in her stead, ripping the monster off him and throwing it into the sand. A wave of deeply coloured fire turned it into a deflating, hissing nothing in an instant.
“Of course something had to go wrong at the last second.” The comment made Lucifrena turn her attention back to the Gamer. His clothes, torn in synchronicity with his diminished vitality, revealed a grey spot the size of a nail. It was a spread of tiny roots, having found a home within his flesh in a split second.
A sting quick enough to deliver a parasite.
Comments
Funatic
This is one of those things were I cannot give an answer that will fit properly.
FluffyButt Sr.
A question for you Funatic: given their superhuman speeds, how much time would have elapsed from the first Skyfall bang to the last attack? (From the perspective of one of the survivors at the beach)
FluffyButt Sr.
For an image of the pillars, look up prototaxites https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prototaxites?wprov=sfla1 - a creature at the boundary of the world of fungi and the invasion of plants and arthropods. It's so strange we don't know what it is - and it seems part fungus, part not.
