The order was a surprise, but it was a stark reminder of their dire situation. One misstep and he'd be tumbling past the Tattered Bridge and down into the black, seemingly endless abyss below.
A quick glance inspired absolute dread.
Kieran's mind screamed it, giving him an inkling as to why it was named the Screaming Night. The feelings of terror and hopelessness it evoked turned into inescapable screams that echoed nonstop until they wore away at the mind.
'Ignore it…'
Kieran breathed and assessed the situation before considering what he could do. The Furthered Scales of Balance churned, and the gears in his mind worked tirelessly to produce another viable course of action.
Without the ability to evade, essentially all of Kieran's attack methods had to be discarded. As a vengeful individual, he focused mainly on retaliation in the form of counters. He was enamored with that feeling of dread and inferiority his actions spurred in his enemy.
Kieran felt indescribable fulfillment when the flames in their eyes were extinguished, and all hope was lost, alerting them to their dismal and undesired. In that regard, he wasn't much different from the Flame.
Actually, Kieran and the Flame bore an uncanny likeness that Kieran tried to ignore, but the more he was challenged, the more he realized how true this was. Then, there was also his unattuned Aspect, which had not been paired with any element of Self — Ruinous Negation.
He was the stillness that Ruin caused. He was the end and the demise — just like the Flame had been in his story. The nonpareil affinity took the Flame by storm, and that strange connection is why it had no desire to break Kieran.
After gathering slight hints about the Ways of Ascension from the Flame and listening to a memorable piece of its past, he understood this truth. However, that understanding wasn't much help to him now.
Like most of his abilities, he could not tap into his Aspect. He was convinced the magnitude of the Anchor had something to do with his prematurely unlocked Aspect because the Trial's administrator had made it a focus to bring up its presence.
Come to think of it, Kieran noticed something especially noteworthy— everything the voice had mentioned was either thrown into shocking disarray or sealed within the seemingly impregnable Anchor.
Thinking about his Aspect — what it had accomplished for him, its likeness to the Flame's story, and its unknown limits — reinforced Kieran's antipathy toward sabotaging the Anchor.
What could the Flame do with his unchecked Aspect? From what he had seen… his Aspect, in particular, could strangely transcend rankings. Its potency in its unrefined form already rivaled most Masters with a completely Awakened Spirit.
'I've always wondered… how strong is Ruin? It's not part of the Powers of Origin. It seems like a byproduct of the Origins. No, not a byproduct, maybe… a fallout? Which is worse… Ruin or Destruction?'
Before he knew it, Kieran's mind was falling into a mire of endless, consuming questions, but his helter-skelter rumination was ripped to pieces by a horrifying sting starting at his shoulders and coursing down to his fingertips in violent surges.
One of the Bloodwights had taken a chunk out of his flesh, and because of that, blackness was seeping down his arm and rushing through his veins with harrowing celerity.
The Cardinal of War and Flame turned suddenly and stabbed his gauntlet into Kieran's poisoned arm.
"Damn you, Condemned Fiend. I warned you, and you didn't heed it. You need to focus! The blood toxin of the Bloodwights does more than poison your body. It will feed off your everything."
Kieran sputtered and groaned, veins bulging and wriggling in his face and neck.
The pain was excruciating, and the toxin felt like it was about to touch his soul, but a significant force wrested it away. The Cardinal did not assist gently, and that ferocious response left Kieran's soul inflamed and extremely sensitive.
'Is this what a soul injury feels like?'
Kieran hadn't received a soul wound before, but the excruciating pain felt remarkably similar to the residual pain of an Imprint. If he had to guess, then his answer would undoubtedly be yes.
Curious to know what the toxin looked like, Kieran spared some attention when the Cardinal of War and Flame retracted his clawed gauntlet. At the tips was an acrid black liquid, viscous and disgusting, that seared Kieran's nostrils.
Kieran grimaced and kept from retching.
'That stinks something wicked! Is the power of an Abomination?'
He had heard sparse rumors about Abominations. Apparently, they were the equivalent of Masters and required an analogous power to slay them. Aside from that, Kieran didn't know much else about Abominations.
'Wait, that's not true. They're also good material to forge armor, weapons, and other curios. Damn… can I take things out of the Trial?'
Kieran didn't think so.
And while he thought, Kieran's damaged but healing arm moved instinctively, tracing a streamlined pattern of death. Well, that's what he aimed for when he slashed his blade with tremendous force.
A radial gust erupted from the point of Kieran's blade. It spread across the mountain peak as he abruptly stopped his cleave from impacting the mountain. A sharp pain shot up his arm, and Kieran's fingers twitched because of it, but he miraculously clenched his finger to keep from dropping his weapon.
'Dammit! Flame, heal me faster!'
"Don't you curse me, rude boy! I am doing my best, but this is damage from a creature beyond the Abyssal Rift. Your human part has no inherent defense against the power Bloodwights wield. They come from the place of bane!'
'Place of bane…'
That didn't sound too good, especially coming from the Flame. It also seemed unusually strained, like it was pouring its all into healing Kieran as it had claimed.
If so, Bloodwights were genuinely terrifying to combat.
At times like this, Kieran desired his Blood Rune, or at least the ability to channel his blood faster. Despite having the body of a Master, his blood skills were unsuitable for combat. The actuation of it was agonizingly slow.
The futility of his earlier attack was even more frustrating than his lack of power and languished healing. He had aimed to sunder the Bloodwight that bit him with one clean strike, which he did.
But what happened next was a confidence killer.
To his dismay, once the blade had passed through the wriggling flesh of the Bloodwight, its bisected body aggregated back to one unified whole as if he had never cut the thing.
Afterward, he slashed in a violent whirlwind of sharp strikes, turning several encroaching Bloodwights to mincemeat. But, they all recovered from their shredded state, regaining their form as detestable amalgams.
This was an enemy Kieran had no idea how to overcome. The best he could do was mount a defense and avoid being bitten again with small, jerking movements.
His brows furrowed with frustration as his blade continued to streak through the air in reflexive retaliation. Alas, his frenzied swordsmanship was worthless in this situation.
However, Cardinal Weiss imparted some advice before bleak thoughts consumed Kieran's mind.
"Unless you can accurately strike their Blood Core with a blow powerful enough to shatter it to dust… try casting them off the mountain."
'Blood Core?'
Then, Kieran's eyes became profound and spellbinding as the mystical pool in his Realm was consumed at twice its former rate.
His eyes passive effect proved ineffective, but there was always the active approach.
'I'm going to hate this later, but I need to know where these Blood Cores are. Bear with me eyes… don't crap out on me.'
