The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 643: Second Hand Vengeance

Chapter 643: Second Hand Vengeance

Before I even realized he had moved, Kahlen rematerialized a few steps forward, arm casually outstretched. A mass of crimson flesh pulsed in his hand, dangling several thick veins and spraying blood in all directions. The slaver stumbled, staring in disbelief at the gaping hole in his chest where his heart should be.

Kahlen’s hand closed in a fist, crushing the man’s heart. I covered my mouth as a bloody paste squished between his fingers, eyes wide with horror. Bile churned in my throat, but I couldn’t look away, transfixed by the awful scene.

"You may now scream," the demon said with a toothy grin.

A slaver started to scream, but his eyes rolled back in his head, and he dropped like a sack of bricks. Kahlen waved his hand, and a sword streaked forward, impaling another man’s stomach. It tore free with a wet squelch, spilling his guts in a cascade of gore. The man screamed as he clawed at the wound, desperately holding his intestines in as his lifeblood flowed between his fingers.

Another sword moved, and another last his legs mid-thigh. He fell sideways, too stunned to scream, as blood poured from the stumps. One of his legs dropped, thumping on his flailing torso, while the other remained standing.

The slavers’ leader finally regained his senses, clutching the ledger to his chest. With a terrified scream, he tore past the unconscious slaver in a dead sprint. Kahlen watched him go with a predatory grin, casually walking toward the last one standing. The man backed up until he struck a cage, rusty blade trembling in his hands.

"S-stay back!" he whimpered.

Kahlen drew a slow breath and let it out in a long, satisfied exhale. He reached forward and grabbed the man by his neck, lifting him a foot off the ground.

"Please! Don’t kill me!" the slaver screamed.

The demon’s grip tightened, cutting off protests. The man kicked and fought, desperately pounding on the demon’s wrist, but he may as well have been fighting a mountain. There was a sharp crack, and then he went limp. His tongue lolled out, his eyes white, but all that came out was a breathy gurgle.

He fell from the demon with a heavy thump, body spasming erratically. His eyes twitched, but he barely managed a weak groan.

"You mortals never learn. There are fates worse than death," Kahlen said, squatting beside the paralyzed man. "I wonder how long it will take you to die? Will you starve to death? Maybe you’ll choke on your tongue."

The demon looked up, and his lips curled in a cruel smile. "Or maybe..."

He snapped his finger, and a sword cut forward, slashing the locks from the cages. His aura vanished, and the slaves stirred, regaining their wits. An emaciated Tigerkin crept into the entrance, ears flat against his head. His pupils, slit like a cat’s, fixed on the bloody heaps of slavers, and he bared his fangs.

Kahlen chuckled and stood. "You should have taken better care of your pets; they look rather hungry. I wonder if they’ll check to see if you’re dead before they feast."

I woke in a cold sweat, trembling violently. My tail quivered in terror, and for a moment, I couldn’t move. Something thick, heavy, and very warm smothered me, but it wasn’t until something wet dabbed my cheek that I remembered where I was.

"It’s just you," I said, collapsing back in relief.

Fable licked my cheek again, but I didn’t care, cuddling closer to his chest. His breathing was steady and strong, his familiar scent driving out the lingering smell of blood and death. Slowly, the tightness in my chest faded, and my heart slowed to a manageable pace.

"It was awful," I whispered. "He...he killed them. Not just killed them, but..."

Fable growled softly, nuzzling me with his massive nose.

"I know they’re slavers, but he...he..."

I shuddered, squeezing my eyes shut. Fable reassured me again through the bond, but that didn’t help the memories replaying repeatedly. Of a pulsing heart clutched in hand or a man paralyzed, about to be eaten alive. Even after seeing countless battles and surviving the horrors of the inquisitors and Lord Byron, what I had just seen shocked me to the core. Kahlen had been smiling! Was this what demons were really like? Had they been holding back just for my sake?

My stomach twisted, and I groaned, burrowing deeper into Fable’s fur. Gradually, the disturbing thoughts and images ran their course, and I relaxed, exhaustion overtaking me again.

"Fable," I murmured, tickled by the silky whisper of fur on my cheek. "Please, don’t leave me."

He growled softly, nuzzling me, and I drifted off again. The Oracle of Eternity activated, and soon, I found myself on another battlefield. Tens of thousands of demons crashed against a castle I didn’t recognize. Mana cannon charges detonated amongst the horde, vaporizing hundreds at a time.

Before I could get my bearings, the vision shifted, and I stood overlooking a small mountain village. The homes burned, and bodies littered the open square, torn to shreds. Jagged chunks of flesh had been ripped from their bodies, revealing their bones and spilling their organs.

Flies buzzed over the corpses, and somewhere, a child was crying. The noise grew louder, and my heart dropped as a fire scion crawled out of a home, holding the child in its scaly grip. It cackled and pushed the point of one of its claws into the baby’s torso, gutting it.

I squeezed my eyes shut, tail lashing, as the visions kept coming. It was the same as every night. Humans, demons, and beast kings committed atrocities as they battled for dominance over the world. After witnessing thousands of such scenes over the last year, I should have been numb to the violence, but something about seeing Kahlen again had put it all into a new light.

Another vision took over, but unlike before, there was no immediate battle or violence. I stood in a steep mountain valley devoid of armies and fortresses. The sun was low on the horizon, bathing the world in crimson light. Thick groves of trees jutted up on the ridges boxing the valley, as ancient and gnarled as the forests of Heartland.

A small river tumbled over the cliffs, falling beside the yawning mouth of a cave. A man and woman stood before it, gazing into the inky blackness, so close their hands brushed. The man was a demonkin with horns laced with cracks that glowed like lava streaming down a volcano. His red hair was striking, far brighter than mine, and his soul wafted with the smoldering sense of ash.

"Gayron?" My heart fluttered as I looked at the woman beside him. "Korra!"

I shifted to her side, reaching for her. There was no reaction to my voice, and my hand passed right through her shoulder.

Korra shivered, and her hand slipped into Gayron’s.

"Something wrong?" the demonkin asked.

She shook her head. "Just the feeling we’re being watched. The ledgers must be right, after all."

Gayron snorted. "Good. That would mean this is the final one. Then we can finally get back to smashing the church."

"Come on," she said, pulling him into the cave. "Let’s get this over with."

The cave was massive, easily fifty feet tall. Deep scrapes and gouges marred the granite walls, dragging dozens of feet at a time. The darkness was thick and oppressive, but it fled as Gayron raised his free hand and summoned a ball of fire. He flicked his finger, and the ball rose, illuminating the scrapes.

"What do you think caused this?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Some monster long dead, probably. They remind me of the dragon I killed in the Sorra Republic. It marked its territory like this."

"A dragon. Great," he snorted. "What would a bunch of slavers be doing in a place like this?"

Korra rolled her eyes. "That’s why I said it was dead. Even the Circle know better than to invade a living dragon’s lair."

They traveled in silence, still hand in hand, as the sun’s light fell away behind them. The cave turned to the left, spiraling farther and farther. A strong sense of familiarity gripped me, setting my tail twitching back and forth. This wasn’t my first time in a cave shaped like this. And that time, there actually had been a dragon at the end. A very angry, infernal dragon that had buried Soltair, Trithe, and I alive.

Gayron came to an abrupt stop, pulling Korra close. His nose wrinkled, and he narrowed his eyes at the darkness ahead.

"We’re close," he muttered.

My own sensitive nose registered the same smell: death, rot, and unwashed filth. Korra nodded, and her free hand closed into a fist. A curling dragon made of water mana coiled around her forearm, head and claws resting on the back of her hand.

The passage opened up into a massive cavern lined with hundreds of cages. Over half of them were empty, but the few wretched souls locked within were emaciated and dirty. The stench made my eyes water and even Korra’s human nose wrinkled. Gayron’s tail lashed, his fiery orb flaring brighter, chasing the shadows to the corners.

A single, robed man stood in the center of the cages, hands folded behind his back. A deep cowl hid his face, but his soul burned with seventh-level strength. He held his aura tightly in check, revealing only enough mana for a fifth-level being.

"Welcome," he said, bowing his head slightly. "I see you’ve finally come. I’ve been waiting for you."

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