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Chapter 51: The Lumberjack’s Fury
🕑 Added 2022-04-29 17:31:00 +0000 UTCJericho grinned at Axehand. “You think you’re something, don’t you?” he said. “A pitiful, stupid undead who can’t even talk…”
Unlike Jericho, Axehand didn’t taunt—what lumberjack speaks with trees?
A strong breeze blew through the manor’s holes, and the iron flask jingled on Axehand’s waist. He uncorked it to drink a large gulp, eyes locked on Jericho—and then, as moonlit wine dripped down his fractured ribcage, he tossed the flask on the airship.
Axehand was ready to fight. A bone grin blossomed on his face—he charged.
Roots met blades, spearing through the ground as if the plants below had gone berserk. Axehand’s axes twirled through the air in overbearing trajectories, hacking everything in their way. Roots met bone, but Axehand’s cracked body remained sturdy—way beyond reasonable levels, though he didn’t know or presently care about why.
With strength, endurance, speed, and just a bit of technique, Axehand was an absolute menace—and most importantly, Jericho no longer had access to a bottomless storage of strength. The nature spirit was pushed back.
“You are unnatural!” Jericho cried out. “Mindless abominations like you are the ultimate insult to Mother!”
Axehand grunted in mockery. Jericho refused to acknowledge it, but he was as much an abomination as Axehand.
He twisted around a pair of sharp roots, letting another pair slam into him and further crack his bones to advance faster. Feet digging against the ground, he charged right through a cluster and met Jericho’s surprised stare, finally within striking distance. Axehand grinned. His blades shone in the moonlight as he hacked them down, and Jericho jumped back to dodge, but he wasn’t fast enough.
Two long lines were drawn on his raised forearm, dripping thick, green blood—exactly three drops. Jericho’s features contorted as he retreated at top speed, once again raising a slithering wall of roots between them.
“No! Every drop of my blood is precious, heathen! You will pay for this!”
Axehand grunted, and the alcohol flask jingled on his waist. Do your worst. Sooner or later, you will fall.
The two clashed again, a brutal maelstrom of blades meeting a storm of roots—and though Jericho was retreating, Axehand’s advancement was slow. For now, they were locked in a stalemate, but Axehand would not retreat. He would cut this tree. No matter what.
***
The Master’s will spoke in their minds, and the zombies didn’t need to be told twice. With long strides, the Billies reached the nearest rope and began chopping while Boboar and Headless defended against all the guards. They received multiple hits, but Boboar was sturdy, and Headless’s head was oddly protected on his chest as the soldiers had no practice striking there.
However, no matter how they tried to defend, the hits still piled on. Boboar’s charges were dodged, and he was struck multiple times in return, and his bones had begun to bend, and his skeleton had begun to break. Headless was in an even worse situation, already riddled with holes like goose cheese.
As the Billies cut a rope and moved to the next one, Boboar and Headless were on their last legs. They didn’t mind—for such a kind Master, they would gladly fall.
Suddenly, screeches and squeaks filled the battlefield. Before the guards knew it, a flood of mice had reached them, climbing their armor and trying to sneak in with terrible ferocity. The guards screamed and dropped their weapons, backpedaling as they furiously tried to stop the mice from infiltrating their armor, but in that time, the other undead had escaped.
“STOP THEM!” a furious scream came from a second-story window. “They’re stealing my airship!”
It was Count Decaron, barely dressed and still drunk. Despite the cataclysmic battle below, he dared walk to the window and even shout—clearly, he believed himself safe.
“We’re only borrowing it!” Jerry shouted back.
With a swing of Headless’s spear, the final rope was cut off, and the airship jolted upward.
“Grab on!” yelled Jerry as the undead held onto the cut-off ropes for dear life, letting themselves get pulled into the sky as they slowly tried to climb up. Boboar had climbed the ramp as the rest cut off the final rope—now, everyone was on board, except one.
“AXEHAND!”
Jerry watched in horror. From above, he could see the ground rapidly pulling away, and on that ground, Axehand was still locked in heated combat with Jericho. The airship was already over the manor’s first floor, rapidly approaching the level of the roof, and Axehand showed no sign of running for it.
He couldn’t; if he tried, Jericho would follow, and there was no way to escape that.
However, noticing their imminent departure, Axehand only grunted in satisfaction. He could be left behind; all he asked for was a good battle and a victory. He would never give in to a tree person. He would triumph against Jericho or fall trying.
Because Axehand was the world’s proudest lumberjack.
“AXEHAND!” Jerry’s screams reached his ears, but he ignored them. Around him, a few guards were running from mice, the cyclops was fighting the rest of them, and Maccain was hiding somewhere in fear of the pyromancer’s ire and fire. Only Axehand and Jericho were left, duking it out in the middle of the hole-ridden courtyard.
Jericho grinned. “They’re leaving you behind,” he said. “So much for being a ‘friend.’”
Mind your own damn business, Axehand wanted to respond. You will fall by my blades.
Of course, he couldn’t say that, so he only grunted a challenge. Jericho accepted. Their battle would go on.
But not on their terms.
“Jericho!” Maccain’s voice rang out. “Stop the damn airship!”
Immediately, Jericho’s body glowed red and steaming. The cyclops let out a groan as the extra power left his body, transferred to the other of Maccain’s undead, and he was immediately beset upon by the female nature spirit, the fire wizard, and the remaining guards.
And Jericho… Jericho clenched his fist, grinning madly at the surge of strength he had received.
“This is it,” he muttered. “Like Mother… All this power…”
Roots speared out of the ground, much thicker and faster than before. The earth spirit raised his eyes, a dark green aura surrounding him as he locked gazes with Axehand’s crimson flames.
“You took three drops of my blood… but you’re so worthless that even your life is not enough to repay me,” he said, sighing in mockery. “What a shame.”
And then, faster than Axehand could react, the tip of a hard root met his ribcage from the side, sending him flying sideways and back into the manor. Jericho launched himself off the ground and tens of feet into the air, grabbing the end of a rope that dangled from the airship. A root thicker than any other rose from the ground, reaching Jericho and coiling around his waist, and then, with a herculean roar, while still suspended in mid-air, he pulled downward.
The airship cracked as it forcibly came to a halt, and then, it tilted sideways as the root dragged Jericho towards the ground. Up there, everything shook.
“Godsdamnit!” shouted Marcus, struggling to hold on to something. “This is cheating! Absolutely unfair!”
“How is he doing this?!” Jerry exclaimed. He couldn’t comprehend it. This red steam… Empowering undead… What a novel notion!
Sending more power through the soul link… he mused, already lost in his thoughts. Axehand’s current strength was not enough, Jerry himself clearly couldn’t defeat Maccain, and he was all out of ideas. He had to find out how Maccain was doing this, and he had to master it now.
“Hold me!” he shouted, letting go of the railing and letting himself slide down. A burly hand reached out and grabbed him—Billy One.
Overcharging the soul link… Could it be possible?
His mind reached into his soul, finding the link that connected him to Axehand. He could feel it shuddering—clearly, the double-skeleton was on his last legs.
Each link drew an amount of energy proportional to the undead’s strength. Axehand’s, for example, demanded almost as much energy as everyone else’s combined—and that was just the energy needed for the bonds between soul and body to maintain themselves.
But now…
In desperation, Jerry took a risk. Forgoing all notions of safety, he grabbed every single bit of soul energy he could scrunch up and stuffed it into the link. It instantly grew red, bloating from the pressure as an unrivaled river of energy flew into it—and then, through it, into Axehand.
Jerry lost his breath.
And down below, everything shook as the manor’s walls exploded. Axehand was revealed in all his glory, cracked throughout, red, and steaming from his very bones. His skull was shaped into a grin and the very air around him pulsed with power, vibrating to the tune of Axehand’s excited grunts.
At that moment, he was like a devil incarnate, and everyone froze.
“NO!” roared Jericho. Axehand looked up. And then he jumped.
He did not try to cut down the root tying Jericho to the ground, though he could certainly do it. No, Axehand was a proud undead, and he wouldn’t accept defeat. His feet pushed against the ground with enough force to crack it, and he flew through the air like a bird, like an arrow.
Roots rose to stop him, or at least delay him, but Axehand’s momentum and strength were so great that he tore right through those thick roots, heading straight for Jericho. “No!” the earth spirit roared again, facing certain destruction. He let go of the rope to pull himself down faster, and he partly succeeded, but Axehand was simply too fast.
He flew past, and a single axe hand reached out, cutting Jericho’s still outstretched arm clean off at the shoulder. A fountain of green blood erupted.
Jericho screamed in shock as he tumbled to the ground—and from his shoulder, the green had began to dry out, black blood replacing it. “No,” he mumbled, watching in horror and disbelief. “NO!”
He erupted into maddened screams.
Axehand grunted a chuckle. He smashed against the manor’s other side, digging into the walls and shaking the entire residence, which, by now, was already on the verge of collapsing—coincidentally, the room that Axehand had smashed into was the Count’s, and the man was staring with a trembling jaw.
Ignoring Decaron, Axehand quickly rose back up—but as Jericho had let go of the rope, the airship had once again jolted upward, and even the longest rope was shooting up at great speed.
“Axehand!” roared Jerry, “GRAB THE ROPE!”
“You idiot!” replied Marcus. “He has axe hands!”
Jerry’s heart dropped. Axehand grunted. Pushing against the floor, he once again catapulted himself upward even faster than before, quickly closing the distance between himself and the rope’s end.
The floor collapsed, taking that entire section of the manor with it, and Count Decaron was buried underneath the falling debris, but nobody paid him any mind. The battle between the guards and Gorgon had already stopped, leading to a tense impasse.
Every single gaze was glued on Axehand as he reached the rope… and then slammed his axe hands against it, sandwiching the end of the rope between the flat parts of his hands! The rope swayed to the side and threatened to toss him off; everyone’s heart was in their throats, but with his massive strength… Axehand held on!
He was dangling from a rapidly ascending, furiously swaying rope! Whether on the ground or on the airship, everyone was frozen! The rope, after being pulled so many times, began to unravel right above Axehand.
“Pull him up!” Boney shouted. “He can’t climb! Quick, everyone, pull him up!”
Four Billies and Headless grabbed the rope at the same time, tugging at it with every ounce of strength they had left, and finally managed to pull Axehand up just before the rope broke.
The red color left Axehand’s bones as he tumbled on the deck, lying still.
“We made it!” screamed Boney.
“By Manna…” Marcus grabbed his chest. “I’m too old for this.”
Laura smiled. The undead cheered.
And Jerry mumbled, “Oh, thank Desistos…” before collapsing on the deck.
The ground quickly retreated further and further away. Jericho’s screams of impotent rage were loud enough to shake the sky, but no matter how much he shouted, no matter how angrily Maccain, his undead, or the guards stared, they could do nothing.
The battle… was a complete victory.
