Amukelo advanced with a wild grin plastered across his face, as he laughed madly. The glow on Amukelo's sword started to pulse.
Amukelo halted just a few steps from Neclord. As he walked slowly, he spoke in a voice filled with a strange, almost mocking satisfaction. "Look at you… how utterly pathetic," he sneered, his voice a dark rasp of hatred. "Did you really think that after everything you've done, you'd just escape? The lives you stole… the futures you shattered… all for what? For this?"
As Amukelo was getting closer, his sword was pulsing faster and faster. Neclord was paralyzed, his face twisted in terror.
But just as Amukelo took another step forward, his monologue was interrupted by a surge of energy from behind him. Morth, with a desperate look on his face, raised his staff and muttered an incantation.
"Morth, wait! Don't—" Peles shouted, but it was too late.
A giant spike of earth erupted from the ground, hurtling toward Amukelo.
Amukelo's head snapped around, his eyes narrowing as he registered the oncoming spike. His sneer turned into a furious snarl, and he raised his pulsing sword. "Out of my way!" he roared furiously.
With a swift, powerful motion, he hurled his sword toward the spike. When the blade met the spike, it tore through it effortlessly. The spike disintegrated upon the connection with the sword.
The sword didn't stop there; its trajectory carried it forward, straight toward Morth, who stood frozen in disbelief, his face pale as he realized the fatal mistake he'd made. The glowing blade struck him beneath his throat, slicing through without resistance. There were strong burning marks in the place of the slice, and Morth's head fell, severed cleanly, his body dropping lifelessly to the ground as blood splattered across the rubble behind him. The sword embedded itself with a final, resounding clang in the stones behind, and its light and mist completely faded.
Silence fell over the street. Amukelo turned back to Neclord, his face set in grim, triumphant satisfaction.
"You," he spat, stepping closer, "you will pay for everything you did."
Neclord's remaining hand scrabbled helplessly at the dirt, his gaze darting around as if searching for an escape. But there was none. His face twisted in pain and horror as Amukelo drew a dagger from his belt.
Instead of going for his throat, Amukelo crouched down beside him, his smile dark and twisted. "No, not yet. Not until you feel what it's like to lose everything."
With a sudden movement, he swung the dagger down, severing Neclord's remaining arm in one clean stroke. Neclord's scream echoed down the empty streets, raw and filled with agony as he crumpled forward, clutching at the bleeding stump where his arm had been. His blood spilled over the stone, staining the ground as he struggled in vain to pull himself away from Amukelo.
Amukelo watched Neclord's suffering with a sick satisfaction, his mad laughter fading into a cold, unfeeling glare. He tilted his head, his face shifting from deranged joy to absolute contempt, his voice low and filled with revulsion. "You don't even deserve to breathe the same air," he muttered, his tone laced with disgust. He lifted the dagger, raising it above his head, the blade catching the faintest glimmer of light as it hovered in the air.
Neclord's breath came in short, panicked gasps, his eyes squeezed shut as he awaited the inevitable end, his body trembling uncontrollably.
Amukelo raised his dagger as he prepared to strike. But suddenly, his body froze, the dagger trembling in his grasp. A sharp, excruciating pain tore through him, and his mouth opened in a soundless scream, his eyes widening in shock. The dagger slipped from his hand, clattering to the ground as he staggered back, his hands clawing at his chest as if trying to rip away the unseen agony tearing him apart.
His body convulsed, jerking as though under an invisible lash, and then, without warning, his skin split open. Wounds erupted across his arms, his chest, his legs, fresh rivulets of blood trickling down his skin. But it wasn't just blood—beneath the surface, a faint, unnatural glow began to emerge, an orange-red light like the embers of a dying fire. The glow intensified, seeping out from each wound until it was as if flames were licking up from within him, burning outward through his torn flesh.
Amukelo screamed, his voice filled with agony. His back arched as the firelight poured from his body, each wound seeming to deepen, to gape wider as though his very life force was burning itself out. His legs buckled, and he crumpled forward.
Eliss's eyes widened as she watched his descent into torment. She took a tentative step forward. She wasn't close to Amukelo; he wasn't her friend, nor had they traveled together long enough for any bonds to form.
"He can't die now," she muttered. She stepped closer to use a healing spell on him. But before she could get too close, an arrow whistled through the air, striking the ground inches from her feet.
Then Peles blocked her path, standing between her and Amukelo. "You're not going to help him," he said. There was no malice in his voice, just a cold pragmatism. "Let them settle whatever they have to settle."
"If he dies," Peles continued, "then he wasn't strong enough to win. And if Neclord dies… well, he'll deserve whatever happens to him." He stared her down, his eyes hard but devoid of cruelty.
Eliss clenched her fists. There was no way she could get past Peles without risking her own life. Still, she couldn't shake the strange urge to save Amukelo. She had seen something in him, something that felt so familiar. She wanted to understand it. But she stepped back decidingto not risk her life.
Neclord, who had been watching Amukelo's suffering with a mixture of shock and disbelief, slowly straightened, his face shifting from fear to a twisted expression of satisfaction. A cruel smile crept over his face.
With great effort, he braced himself against a nearby wall, using it to steady his mangled body as he forced himself to his feet. He limped forward and once he was close enough, he lifted his foot and drove it into Amukelo's side with a vicious kick. Amukelo's body jerked from the impact, but he made no sound.
Neclord's face twisted into a gleeful sneer, and he let out a manic, hollow laugh. "Where's your revenge now, huh?" he jeered, punctuating his words with another brutal kick to Amukelo's ribs. "You were so certain, weren't you? So sure you could make me pay. And now look at you!"
Amukelo's body lay motionless, each kick from Neclord only serving to drive him deeper into his own agony. His breaths came in shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling as he fought to hold onto consciousness, his mind barely registering the blows raining down upon him.
Neclord's laughter grew louder, his expression wild as he took another step back, then lunged forward with a heavy kick to Amukelo's chest, his body shuddering from the impact. "I'm supposed to pay for what I did, am I?" he sneered, bending down so that his face was mere inches from Amukelo's. His voice dropped to a harsh whisper, filled with contempt. "You're nothing. Less than nothing. A pathetic, foolish child playing at being a hero. You are as pathetic as that girl that save you in the cave. But there is no one to save you now."