A tendril connected the guards' commander to the pulsing prison of darkness, so thick and straight that at first, Lokus thought it to be the arm of a god. The reality, however, was much, much worse.
That tendril was sucking the vitality out of Ballad bit by bit, leaving him more pallid and thinner with every passing second. Since that supernova of silence, he had lost over half of his body mass, looking as if he hadn't eaten in weeks.
His mouth hung open in a silent scream, his eyes hazy and unfocused as he hovered a few inches off of the ground, which was the only way he could even stay upright in his state.
His hand in Lokus' was devoid of warmth and bone-thin, and yet it gripped onto his with a frightening strength one would never expect from one in his state.
Lokus attempted to tug his hands free, but whether it was the dark cocoon or the skeletal Ballad's grip, both proved too strong for him to escape, and so he could only kneel there in silence as he was slowly dragged out of his trance-like state.
A faint buzzing reached his ears, like an annoying, persistent fly was trying to get his attention, and with a leaden head, he turned to the source.
There, twenty meters away, was the demon, its giant stomach mouth open as spittle flew from its lips. It was apparent to Lokus that this demon was the source of the buzzing. Even its devastating, fear-inspiring roar couldn't compete against that terrible, terrible silence.
'It's still alive…' Lokus thought, his internal monologue sluggish.
And the guards fighting it were in dire straits. Many of them had fallen, and many more would soon join, unless Vera could finish her Ritual.
Which begged the question, what was taking so long?
Lokus turned back to the dark cocoon where Vera had been standing, his fingers wiggling in that soupy, cloud-like darkness to get her attention, but he received no response.
Just when he was about to say something, the cocoon exploded, catapulting him once again into that omnipresent, gluttonous darkness.
...…
"…up. Wake up!"
Lokus startled awake, looking up at darkness. Not the dark silence that didn't even allow him to think from before, but the normal darkness of the underground space known as Grimn's Nerves.
Skeletal hands shook him by the shoulders, waves of hot breath assaulting his face as Ballad's voice sounded again.
"Wake up, or I'll leave you here! I don't have time to babysit, dammit!"
"I'm up, I'm up," Lokus responded in slurred words, his tongue moving like cotton had been stuffed into his mouth.
"About time," snorted Ballad. He grabbed Lokus by the arm and hauled him to his feet before slapping two objects against his stomach.
Lokus grabbed them instinctively, his Domain exiting himself through his pores to inspect the objects. It was the mask he had dropped during the Ritual, and his axe, and both appeared to be in one piece.
"Did we do it?" Lokus asked. "Is that demon dead?"
As he said it, he looked to Vera in his Domain, finding that her cheeks were drawn and her stance was a little shaky, but otherwise she was all right.
"No," she muttered, clearly dissatisfied at the fact that they had failed. "But it's close to it. You all should have no difficulty finishing it off."
"You aren't going to help?" Ballad asked her as she began to leave.
"I've done all I can," she said over her shoulder. "I'm not a Monarch like you, I'm much more fragile. And what I've done already has cost me greatly."
Ballad snorted again. "Fine. Then you won't get to study the smaller ones."
"So long as I get some time alone with the big one, that's fine by me." And with that, Vera left the range of their Domains.
Lokus squinted in the direction of the glowing demon.
True to Vera's words, it was still alive and kicking, although its "kicks" were getting weaker and weaker as time went on.
That ghostly glow originating from the wailing souls chained to its corporeal existence was gone in some places, leaving vein-like patterns all across its skin.
Not even the glow of the surrounding skin could pierce what was left behind, like someone had poured the world's blackest paint over a lantern, and those veins only grew as Lokus watched, slowly stifling the demon's light.
'After all of that, it's still alive?' Lokus wondered. Was the gap between Prince and King really so large?
"Come on," Ballad said, taking off in the direction of the demon. "It's time to put this unruly beast down for good."
"Are you okay to fight in that condition?" Lokus asked the man. He put his mask back on he followed after the man, only to lament that he was out of Majesty. Ibmund wouldn't be able to help him again for a while.
He had discovered a few days ago that it took two hours for his Sovereign Gateway to refill his Majesty from empty, but he could use each drop that appeared the moment it did.
Of course, a single drop wasn't enough to do much of anything, including letting Ibmund shift for a useful amount of time, but it was still a possibility. Either way, Ibmund would be out stuck in his intangible form for a while.
"Don't worry about me," Ballad said gruffly. He pulled his sword out of its scabbard, giving it a once-over in his Domain to make sure it hadn't been damaged during the Ritual. "I'm no stranger to fighting in unfavorable conditions. Besides, the demon doesn't have much fight left in it."
The two joined the rest of the guards as they peppered the demon with their spears and swords. It felt like sticking pins in a pincushion to them, but they didn't cease their attacks. Even a giant could fall before enough ants.
Lokus and Ballad stepped into their ranks seamlessly, their arms swinging along as axe and sword chopped into the demon's warbling fat.
The demon growled weakly, two hurt to even roar as its five remaining hands swiped at the humans with the speed of molasses. It truly seemed to be on its last, er, fat mounds, and its current condition was remarkably bad.
Its one eye had been blinded, a crater had been blown in its chest from the lightning barrage, it was missing a hand, and the lower parts of its torso were covered in blood from the countless stab wounds dotting it.
It was almost enough to earn one's sympathy. Almost.
Unfortunately for the demon, the humans weren't swayed.
It took less than ten minutes after Vera's Ritual had been completed for those black veins to encompass the demon's entire form, and when they did, the demon's struggles stopped abruptly.
It sat there for several seconds, as still as a statue under the humans' gazes, before slowly tilting forward.
"…Shit. Run, run! Get out of the way!"
Those in the way of the toppling demon's fall scrambled to get out of it, those unlucky enough to be standing too close being subsumed into its rolls of fat as it fell, crushed under the weight.
The rest managed to escape by the skin of their teeth, the demon's face hitting the ground with a loud crash that shook the ground beneath them. They panted heavily, hands on their knees. That might have been the fastest they had ever run in their lives.
"Get the townsfolk," Ballad barked at a soldier. "I want all of these demons within our walls by week's end. All of this will be for naught if some wayward strays eat them up."
The soldier gulped down a breath and moved to fulfill his orders, heading in the direction of Saddoton. Ballad surveyed the battlefield as the man left, a cold light in his eye.
"As for the rest of you… I expect you won't have any complaints bringing your fallen brothers back."
Those that remained straightened at that, their expressions hard and unyielding. No, no they wouldn't. Not even their tired limbs and bleeding wounds would stop them.
"That goes for you as well," Ballad told Lokus. "Grab a body and start moving."
The thin man bent down after giving his commands, taking hold of a body of his own and beginning to drag the body across the ground. Lokus was surprised at the strength still left in the man's limbs.
After picking a fallen human at random, he slipped one arm under the corpse's legs and another under its neck and gritted his teeth as he lifted it up. The bone armor it wore added to the weight, but no one else was removing armor from the dead, so he assumed it to be a faux pas and didn't attempt it.
It was hours before their work was done, but when it was, only the dried blood on the stone ground showed any indication that a battle had been fought at all.