Dimensional Descent

Blood red lightning sparked, the nails they formed discharging through Loryth’s body.

Aina could remember the effects of Black Wood like the back of her hand.

She was a Force Pill Crafter. Her knowledge of Force Herbs and various natural remedies, both toxic and not, were likely what very few could compare to.

But even in relation to her usual knowledge, she had come to understand Black Wood more intimately than anything else in her life.

It was a curse. It would slowly peel into your skin, eating away at you layer by layer. It would burn you slowly, making you sizzle and crack, from each layer of your skin, down to the fat beneath, and the muscle beneath that.

It would take you down one cell by one cell, eating into your very soul and radiating the pain step by step, until you were nothing more than a husk of bleeding flesh.

Then it would rip even that flesh apart.

But the truly sickening ability of Black Wood wasn’t this. Instead... it was the scent of rotting flesh.

This scent served two purposes. Not only did it keep you awake, forcing lucidity, it also maintained one’s life, constantly nourishing the soul and stopping it from dissipating.

Because it targeted the soul directly, even when one’s nerves had been fried to ash and nothing remained but your bone and the flesh left on your head, you would still feel every hint of pain no less intimately.

The cushion between the head and the wood was precisely the reason for this.

While the rest of your body would rot, flaking away in a sickening burning sensation, your head would remain just fine.

Until the rotting began to slowly creep up your neck.

By the time everything was done, all that would remain was a flailing string of nerves, a brain, and a skeleton.

Then, as you experienced your life being weeded out, one would feel the wind sweeping back and forth in an eerie rhythm.

In that state, you wouldn’t be able to see, nor touch, nor hear, nor smell...

That feeling of empty wind would be your everything.

And then, your body would fail after exactly 99 days.

Not one moment more.

Not one moment less.

This was the horror of Black Wood.

”The feeling of your body slowly rotting must be terrible. But just 99 days... isn’t enough... I also don’t think that the pain you experience is nearly enough...”

Crimson lightning flickered.

The Dreadarch unleashed a roar. ”LORYTH!”

The arrow he had been charging up was loosed, piercing through the air in a veil of gold. It hardly looked like an arrow at all, it was more like a curtain falling from the skies, rippling with a wave of all-encompassing light that seemed descended from the

stars.

BOOM!

Eryvon’s fingers trembled as his Manifestation moved. Veins popped along his arm and he immediately felt that something was wrong.

But before he could react, his arm was ripped backward under a mysterious force.

He had lost control of himself, his blood moving to a rhythm he didn’t dictate. And as a result...

He missed an arrow for the first time in his life.

His bone snapped and his forearm swung the wrong direction. However, his eyes were bulging with far more shock than pain.

Unfortunately, there was little chance to bask in this shock as another more

substantial one took hold of his heart.

A hand grasped his throat and he froze in place.

Calmly, Aina took a step through the skies, dragging Eryvon with her.

PUCHI. PUCHI. PUCHI.

Lightning nailed him to another tree, his body convulsing wildly.

The horror on Myxor’s face became palpable. Anselma still seemed to be holding herself together, but it was hard to tell if this was out of true confidence, or if it was nothing more than a false sense of unwarranted pride.

Aina slowly turned around, standing in the skies as the lone point of light. Her winds radiated with rays of red, surging out with a suffocating might every time they flapped just the slightest bit.

Anselma gripped the Founder’s Ax so tightly the skin at her knuckles split, blood pooling down her hand and down its length.

She took a breath, her red hair dancing beneath the strong hurricane-force winds

Aina was producing.

She turned, looking toward Myxor to find that he was already looking toward her. The man looked beaten and haggard. Despite having the most defenses amongst them, he had suffered probably more than all but Loryth.

Now, he was looking toward her for support, for help, for... something.

The pillar of support he was looking for swung out her ax.

His head flew into the skies and she took a strong breath.

Pools of blood surged toward her and her foundation deepened. At first it was slow, but then it accelerated faster and faster until her very skin began to glow.

Beads of sweat began to pour from the Imperatress. And soon, she looked like a vaguely humanoid pool of blood, her body slowly expanding to fit the size of her Manifestation.

DUDOOM, DUDOOM.

The world trembled beneath her might and the Founder’s Ax expanded to match her

size.

She had lost a lot before she could even begin to lead the Four Great Families back to their former height.

All that work, all that effort, all her hopes and aspirations, seemed to be being flushed right before her eyes.

And now, she had to kill one of her own most important trump cards just for a small

chance at surviving.

She was pissed.

Her aura flared as she stood to the height of a god, the whipping of her hair leveling buildings and leaving deep trenches in the land that extended further than even the

eye could see.

Aina looked at her calmly, still the same size, and with the very same Manifestation to

her back.

”Is this your strongest state?” Aina asked lightly. ”Good. Today... I will allow my mother

to rest her soul in earnest.”

Aina took a step forward and the world beneath her split in two.

She was no longer holding back.