There was nothing Death and Aleirica could do from that point forward. The prince’s mind was so determined, so clear. They were both forced out of his brain without a clear victor. The prince freed himself from Bianca’s grip on his ankle and grabbed Aleirica’s small wrist. Death hit away Stroke’s arm from seizing the demon.

  “I didn’t know it was possible to be forced out like that!” she said to Death, embarrassed. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

  Stroke hit them both away. Aleirica called for Beion, and he appeared with a quick portal, taking his sister back to Hell, where she was safe from the prince’s wrath.

  Good, Death thought. She followed my pn. I didn’t think the path of failure was the one we’d take but I’m gd I pnned for it. With Snow, Beion, and Aleirica in Hell, I can fight without worry that Snow would die… I believe I’ve seen enough to best the prince with God Arm, I just need him to… what is he doing?

  Stroke took off running. He sprinted into the clouds of smoke. “I didn’t mean to!” he screamed. “I need to make this world anew. I need to follow Runaya’s wish.”

  Bianca’s skin melted to the muscles, turning them purple. She grew spikes of bone on his shoulders, forearms, calves. The ritual allowed her to keep the skin of her face, but red veins crept over her jaw, pulsing red—her eyes turned bck, her pupils crimson. She writhed in agony, her screams becoming deep and demonic.

  She shot upright, body bent backwards, standing in a strange position that would snap the spine of any normal mortal. Her mouth hung open, teeth doubling in length, sharp like a hound’s. She hunched over, eyes darting between Death and Godwin. Clicking of the tongue, low growls, she took steps like a toddler, as if she needed to learn how to walk.

  “Bianca?” Godwin said. “It’s me. Can you hear me?”

  “That is your friend no longer,” Death warned. “We must kill her before she kills us. Or, I should say, kills you.”

  “Help me,” Godwin pleaded. “Help me save this city and I promise I will repay you for everything I did to you and more.”

  Death smirked. “I am a conqueror,” he said. “I do not need you to repay me. But, under the command of Snow to save this city, I accept your terms.” He rolled up his sleeves, showing two deep cuts on his wrists. “Let us save Vatanil.”

  The bloody mist curled and twisted through broken windows and rubbles. Some entered Death’s gashes, the rest forming a sphere of blood above him. He pulled out his sword, coating it in red, giving it an edge as sharp as godsteel—with his other hand, the blood took the form of a solid-blood scythe.

  “That’s Killian’s gift,” Godwin said. “You stole it?”

  “Of course I didn’t. I am a conqueror; I took it.”

  Now able to walk, Bianca gave a deafening screech, widening her already-stretched jaw and showing her knife-like teeth to the king. She raised her cw above her head, the Dragonhammer forming in her grip, tainting the living dragon’s head and changing the eyes from purple to red, also changing the runes from a calm blue to a rotting yellow.

  “Bianca!” Godwin yelled. “Listen to my voice! Fight whatever spell washes over you! Fight it! I know you can!”

  In her twitching eyes, Godwin saw hope that she was still there, a hope that quickly crumbled when she threw the hammer into his chest and forced him to meet it with a blow from the God Arm. The surround houses were destroyed from the bst, and Death stayed still as a statue, tentacles of blood coming from his feet and drilling into the earth, keeping him from the fate he suffered from a simir boom from Prince Stroke’s fist.

  Bianca sshed Godwin’s arm, three red cuts—she sshed him again on his face, slicing his eye open. She continued her relentless assault on the king, who was unwilling to kill her. She tore chunks from his cheeks, biting off his flesh, cwing into his lungs. When he whispered her name, she stopped, a fleeting fsh of sadness in the monster’s eyes. She snarled, shaking away the emotion, biting into his neck.

  Death speared her from beneath with a spike of blood. It started at her ground, exiting her neck—she wiggled, her frenzied eyes staring at her attacker with dited pupils. She summoned Dragonhammer, swinging for the base of the spike, shattering it. She grabbed the tip of the spike and slid out of her whole body like it was a splinter in a fingertip, releasing a screech like nothing had been inside of her.

  That definitely went through her heart, Death thought. Seems the only way to end this is to crush her head, just like Killian did to Runaya… that makes sense to me now.

  “I need time to heal,” Godwin said wetly. “I will… be back.” He stumbled into the dusty clouds, hiding from Bianca’s vision, but she was too set on the conqueror to notice her only target fleeing.

  She lunched for Death, and he whipped her with a rope of red from his wrist. It wrapped around her neck, and he gripped it with both hands, spinning furiously. He found nothing to fling her into, as all the surrounding structures had been fttened. Bianca cwed at her own neck, freeing herself, then struck Death with the hammer after summoning it. He braced, blocking it with his arm, but it did damage regardless. His arm snapped at the elbow, the blood from the sphere behind travelled across his body like snakes and healed him quickly.

  This is excellent, Death thought. Killian’s gift gets stronger the more blood he has avaible… in a standard fight, this would do so little to help… but in a bloodbath like this, I’m practically invincible as long as I don’t allow it to deplete or get beheaded like that idiot allowed Snow to do. I shall name this gift, nothing suits it better than the title of Bloodsphere.

  He met her hammer with his scythe, smiling from ear to ear like a child who’d found a new toy to py with. With his sword, he cut Bianca from shoulder to navel, then went for the throat—she put both her feet to his chest after a small jump, using the body of the conqueror to leap away and crawl around like a lizard. She charged, cws forward, and ducked under Death’s scythe as it came.

  She sshed his face, then struck his chest with her palm. The blow was powerful, and he met the base of a Sentinel tower, a crack spreading up the stone and making the fmes turn from blue to red, squealing in pain. Death healed the cuts, healing his broken bones, ughing in joy.

  “I’m a conqueror!” he screamed at Bianca. “Finally, a gift that lets me fight and heal! Come, monster, I shall put you down, then put down the prince!”

  The Sentinels turned green. “Don’t kill her,” Godwin pleaded. “I can fix this. I can be a good king. I just need time.”

  His voice was interrupted by Strokes. “You won’t kill me,” Stroke told Death. “If you come close to me, I won’t hold back.”

  Perhaps that is true, Death thought. That God Arm could end things quick… but I will just regenerate and come back. I’m fast, I’m skilled, I have a scythe as sharp as godsteel. “A coward speaks behind curtains,” Death said. “I am ready for our battle when you are, Stroke Van! If you believe yourself a god, come and strip that title from my dead hands if you can! You shall die if you try, I am the conqueror! I am a god! You only pretend.”

  Bianca reacted to their voices with sad groans, searching for them with confused turns. “St…r…o…” she moaned. “G…ow…”

  She seems to still be there, Death thought. It must be painful if she’s watching herself attack against her will. Like Stroke, there are many breaks between her attacks. She must be trying her hardest to resist the effects of the ritual…

  Three cws poked through Death’s chest from behind. He heard clicking his ear, the sound of slobber from clicking teeth. He knew it couldn’t be Bianca, as he was facing her currently. Whatever had him lifted him, piercing three more cws through his stomach. He felt his torso stretch, his body tearing—he only chuckled, swinging his scythe behind him and catching the culprit with the edge. Blood from the Bloodsphere sucked into the holes, sealing them without scar, and he met eyes with a ferocious ritual monster, Mara, flesh of her prey hanging from her teeth, intestines wrapped around her arms, throat, and legs.

  Unlike Bianca, Mara didn’t take breaks between her attacks. She kept the conqueror on his toes, and the two danced in combat. He struck her in the chest with the scythe, pushing the whole of the bde through, then cast his weapon away with a mighty throw. When Bianca tried to sneak on him, he created a second scythe from the Bloodsphere, doing the same.

  Mara ripped the weapon out her flesh and sprinted for Death. He cocked back one arm, holding the other forward, mimicking the action of holding a bow and arrow. A bolt of thick, throbbing blood formed from finger to palm. He released the arrow, striking Mara in the heart mid-leap. It speared her to the floor.

  Should’ve gone for her head, Death thought. But I’m having far too much fun to end the fight so early… I see now why Stroke never id the killing blow. This is euphoric. Are you watching me through the Sentinels, Stroke Van? Let me show you what I can do.

  “Killian Entrail was a weak dog!” Death boasted. “I need not duel him to know. He did not see the potential of his own power. The Bloodsphere is a gift worthy of a conqueror. The more blood I shed, the more powerful I become… are you scared to face me, little prince? Are you frightened?”

  He drained half of the massive Bloodsphere following above. The ground flooded with red, forming a giant cross with him at the centre. Death slowly raised his arms, tentacles of flesh came from the crimson and wrapped around anything they found—burning homes, frightened families, even seeking out fleeing cattle of sheep and cows. He held them all to the skies, stretching them to the clouds. Mara attacked, free from the spear, Death waved a hand, a spear of blood came from his fingertips and struck her down again. Bianca came second. Death formed a giant hand in the bloody puddle at her feet, squeezing her entire body shut in the palm.

  “I am a conqueror!” Death yelled. “And you, Stroke Van, are a coward!”

  He sucked the flesh back into the blood, killing the families and the cattle—he absorbed their souls into his own strength, and smiled in satisfaction. He brough the homes down next, fttening all that surrounding him into a ft circle of splinters and pebbles. He let the two ritual monsters live.

  That was a lot of blood. He looked up to the Bloodsphere. I got some of that back… but a quarter of it is gone. It seems if I allow the blood to dry or become too attached to an object, I lose it… but with this carnage, it doesn’t matter.

  “I’m under the command to save this city,” Death yelled. “But Snow never commanded how much I had to save! If you do not duel me, Prince Stroke, I will destroy each of your precious Sentinels.”

  Godwin wobbled into the circle, horrified. “Why are you killing all these people?” he asked Death. “Is it necessary?”

  “Yes,” Death said. “It is.”

  Godwin found it hard to accept, but did nonetheless. He asked Death to restrain Bianca, ciming he could free her from the effects of the ritual. Before he could get close, Mara attacked him. She leapt on his back, biting into his neck, cwing at the back of his skull and into his brain. Death aimed an arrow of blood, unable to find a good angle on the monster.

  Mara sunk her teeth into the back his pulpy brain. Had she taken a second bite, the king surely would’ve died. He slurred Bianca’s name, trying to reach for Mara with the God Arm, unable.

  Then something overcame Bianca. Her determined soul pushed through the ritual’s will. She summoned her Dragonhammer with a screech and threw it at Mara, knocking her off Godwin. She pounced on Mara, summoning the hammer again, smashing it against the whore’s head, crushing the skull and brain in one swift blow.

  Mara was finally dead. Truly dead. Bianca wheezed breaths, trembling, still fighting the ritual, but lost—her soul buried deeper, and the monster roared out, threatening Death with the hammer.

  Godwin straightened his hand and pierced Bianca’s back with a blow powered by the God Arm. He punctured her heart, and came out her chest—in his fingers, he held the tear of the angel. He pulled it out, and Bianca fell limp into his arms. Her eyes turned from red to white, back to the orange eyes he knew, but she was still weak.

  Godwin felt the pain at the back of his head from his exposed brain. Only a gifted man could survive a wound like that, but no mortal could survive it for very long. He had a choice—heal Bianca, or heal himself, the other would die.

  “I’ll be a good king,” he whispered. “Come back to me, Bianca. The duty is yours now.”

  He moved the God Arm to his palm and fttened it against her chest. Death grabbed it threw it away. “Heal yourself,” he ordered. “I have the souls from those I killed. I will heal the girl.”

  Godwin fell backwards, barely alive, the God Arm rushing to his head to heal it. Death took Bianca’s hand, giving her the strength to heal her broken heart. When done, she was still weak, spent of her energy completely. She reached for Godwin, holding his hand, dragging herself to his side.

  “You are ineffective with the God Arm,” Death said, kneeling at their sides. “You can’t defend yourself against attacks, you refuse to use the full capabilities. Give it to me, and I will save this city. Once you have healed, of course.”

  “No,” Godwin wheezed. “I can’t. I’m nothing without it.”

  I could just kill them both and take it… but Snow gave me a direct command not to kill either of them. He could be our friend, she said. What a mortal way of thinking.

  A yellow-eyed owl hopped closer to Godwin and pecked his finger. He gasped, getting a vision of some sorts—he rolled onto his stomach, keeping Bianca’s hand in his, staring at Death with wide eyes and a mouth hung open. “A god?” he whispered. “A sealed god for millennia… it showed me your journey from your tomb to where we are now.”

  Bianca kept her eyes shut, her face pale, sweating. “Not… our enemy… Godwin…” she managed. “Trust… trust…”

  A portal of fmes opened up—Snow came through alone. “I’ve got ownership of this man’s soul,” Snow said angrily. “Your brother killed my friend, and your God Arm is what he needs to kill that little fucker that took her away. If I command him to give the God Arms back, will you stop being a whiney shithead and just hand over the goods?”

  “If you are who the owls tell me you are, help us,” Godwin begged. “Help these people. Kill my brother. Order him to return it to me, and you have a deal.”