Rise of the Devourer
Book 4: Chapter 30 — The Beginning of the End Pt 3

The announcement hit Noah like a physical blow. King Draxius's voice echoed through the training courtyard, each word shattering the peaceful evening they had been enjoying moments before. Aurelia's face went pale beside him, while Kaelan stood frozen, his spear still in hand from their recently concluded sparring match.

"Vion... murdered," Noah whispered, the words feeling foreign and impossible on his tongue. "They're saying we killed her?"

The distant roar that had preceded the announcement still echoed in his ears—a sound that spoke of ancient power and terrible wrongness. Whatever had happened in the mountains, Noah was certain it wasn't what the king claimed. Vion… Vion couldn’t possibly be dead. Zax wouldn’t let that happen.

But would Draxius lie? There must be some sort of misunderstanding. There must be something going on, that he couldn’t see right now.

"This is insane," Aurelia said, her voice tight with disbelief and growing anger. "We were right here! How could anyone believe—"

"It doesn't matter what anyone believes," Kaelan interrupted, his draconic instincts clearly sensing the approaching danger. "We need to move. Now." His scaled features were grim as he pointed toward the palace windows, where they could already see guards mobilizing. "I'll find Seraphina and Valeria. We need to get out of here and regroup before—"

The sound of armored boots thundering through the corridors cut him off. Shouts echoed from multiple directions, growing closer by the second. The royal guards were already hunting them. Kaelan nodded at them once before flying swiftly into one of the windows on the right side of the palace.

"Erwest," Noah said, his mind racing through their options. "We’ll get to Erwest first."

Aurelia nodded grimly, flames beginning to flicker around her hands as her berserker instincts responded to the threat. "Lead the way."

They burst through the courtyard doors and into the palace proper, their footsteps echoing off marble floors that had seemed welcoming just hours before. Now every shadow seemed to hide potential enemies, every corner a possible ambush.

The speaking crystals continued to broadcast the king's accusations, his voice following them like a vengeful spirit.

Noah's enhanced perception kicked in as they navigated the twisting corridors, his eyes tracking movement patterns and potential threats. The palace was in chaos—servants fled in terror, the lunar eclipse outside cast everything in an eerie twilight that made the familiar halls seem alien and threatening. Some guards leapt to attack as soon as they saw them—the only reason he and Aurelia were getting away being Arcane Step—while others simply watched them in confusion, clearly not able to completely understand the situation.

They reached Erwest's quarters without encountering serious resistance, but Noah's instincts were screaming warnings. Something felt wrong about how easy their progress had been—as if they were being herded rather than hunted.

"Erwest!" Aurelia called out as they burst through the door to find the paladin already armored and ready, his sword drawn. "We need to—"

"I heard the announcement," he said grimly. "This is madness. The princess would never—"

His words were cut off as the temperature in the room suddenly plummeted. The shadows in the corners began to writhe and coalesce, and Noah felt his very bones chill. Through the windows came an otherworldly keening that made his skin crawl.

"Lunar cultists," Aurelia breathed, her flames flaring brighter in response to the encroaching darkness.

The shadows erupted into motion. Figures in dark robes materialized from the darkness, their faces hidden beneath silver hoods that seemed to drink in the light. Their movements were fluid and unnatural, as if they were puppets dancing to some cosmic rhythm. But worse than the human cultists were the creatures that accompanied them—twisted spirits that looked like wisps of malevolent starlight, soul-fragments that had been corrupted into weapons of spite and hunger.

They drifted through the air like jellyfish made of nightmare, trailing ethereal tendrils that left frost in their wake.

Noah's runic chains materialized instantly, the dark metal links blazing with inner fire as they whipped through the air. The chains moved with serpentine grace, the weighted end of one chain catching a cultist around the throat with a wet thunk, the other coiling around a shrieking wisp.

The man's scream was cut short as the chain tightened, runic fire burning through his flesh. The runic inscriptions of the other chain flared brilliant white as they disrupted the creature's ethereal form, making the spirit let out a sound like breaking glass mixed with a dying scream, its starlight essence unraveling where the void-touched metal touched it.

Reality bent around Noah as he used Arcane Step, moving across the room in an instant, depositing him behind a cluster of cultists who were advancing on Erwest with curved daggers raised. His spear thrust forward with surgical precision, the Valkyrie's Call he summoned from the weapon humming with barely contained power. The crimson blade punched through the first cultist's spine, emerging from his chest in a spray of blood, before Noah twisted and swept the weapon in a wide arc that opened the second attacker's throat from behind.

But more kept coming. The shadows themselves seemed to birth new enemies, cultists flowing from the darkness like water from a broken dam.

Aurelia's aura of ash and ember turned the air around her into a swirling maelstrom of heat and destruction, but it was useless against the lunar spirits. Her usual devastating flame attacks flickered uselessly against their incorporeal forms.

"My fire isn't working!" she shouted in frustration as a particularly large spirit drifted toward her, its form shifting between that of a young woman and a writhing mass of silver light.

So, she pivoted toward the cultists, her berserker rage finding targets she could actually harm. Her enhanced physical abilities allowed her to move with inhuman speed, closing the distance to a robed figure in two long strides. Her fist, wreathed in flame, struck the cultist's sternum with bone-crushing force. The man folded around the impact, his ribs cracking audibly before he was launched backward into the wall.

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Another cultist tried to flank her, his ritual dagger glowing with malevolent energy. Aurelia caught his wrist mid-strike, her grip heated to the point where his flesh began to sizzle. She drove her knee up into his elbow, the joint snapping with a wet crack before she spun and backhanded him across the face. Her knuckles, still burning with residual flame, left a charred imprint on his cheek as he crumpled.

But her inability to harm the spirits left her vulnerable. The ethereal beings pressed their advantage, their tendrils reaching out to drain warmth and life from her body. Frost began to form on her skin where they touched, and her flames dimmed as the cold seeped into her bones.

It was then that Erwest's holy magic, blazing like a beacon in the darkness, came to her assistance, his sword wreathed in Hellion's righteous fire as he carved through the spirit enemies with methodical precision. The paladin's training showed in every movement—economical, efficient, deadly. His blade swept in tight arcs, each strike calculated to maximize damage while minimizing his own exposure.

"By Hellion's light!" he shouted, channeling divine energy through his weapon. The holy fire that wreathed his sword expanded outward in a wave of purifying flame, and the lunar spirits shrieked as the sanctified fire tore through their corrupted essence. Unlike Aurelia's berserker flames, the paladin's holy magic was very effective—purifying the spirits, offering their tortured souls a chance at final rest.

But even their combined might wasn't enough. More cultists and spirits poured through the windows and walls as if the very palace had become a conduit for their arrival. The lunar eclipse outside seemed to strengthen them, each beam of twisted moonlight bringing fresh reinforcements.

"We're being overwhelmed!" Erwest shouted over the chaos, his sword cleaving through a particularly large wisp that screamed as it dissipated into motes of silver light.

Noah felt the world slow down around him as he calculated the situation. They were outnumbered, surrounded, and fighting in an enclosed space that favored their enemies. The cultists were using hit-and-run tactics, striking from the shadows before melting back into the darkness. The spirits provided cover and distraction, making it difficult to focus on any single threat.

Time for a more aggressive approach. If some violence was not the solution—use more violence.

He called out for the Bloodwyrn Swarm, his ability manifesting dozens of spectral serpents that erupted from his position like a crimson hurricane. The wyrms were creatures of pure blood, their serpentine forms writhing with malevolence. They tore through the cultist ranks with savage efficiency, their ethereal fangs disrupting both flesh and spirit with equal ease. Where they bit, reality itself seemed to fray, leaving small tears in the fabric of existence—they seemed to have taken on a more void-like nature, after he’d entered the C Rank.

At the same time, Noah channeled Void Annihilation through his spear, the Valkyrie's Call responding to the dark power with reluctant cooperation. The weapon's crimson tip blazed with destructive force that could unmake matter at the molecular level, void energy crackling along the blade's edge like black lightning. Each thrust created holes in reality itself, and the cultists' screams took on a note of genuine terror as they realized what they were facing.

One particularly bold cultist rushed him with a pair of curved daggers despite this, their blades dripping with what looked like liquid moonlight. Noah's spear met the first dagger with a sharp ring of metal on metal, but where the void energy touched the enchanted blade, the weapon simply ceased to exist. The cultist's eyes widened in horror as he stared at the empty hilt in his hand before Noah's follow-up thrust punched through his chest.

Despite the fact that Noah was pushing them back however, he knew that it was only temporary. The effort was taking its toll. Noah could feel his stamina draining rapidly, the void energies he was channeling eating away at his life force like acid. The wounds he was accumulating from cultist blades and spirit-touch were beginning to slow him down, and the pain would strike the moment he let down his Pain Tolerance. Not to mention the cold that was spreading through his limbs where the lunar spirits had made contact.

His Life Siphon and Wyrmblood were working overtime, Tony's symbiotic regeneration knitting flesh and bone back together, but even the abyssal parasite and his body had limits.

A cultist's dagger found its mark, sliding between Noah's ribs with a shock of cold that made his teeth chatter. Frost spread from the wound, his blood crystallizing as lunar magic tried to freeze him from the inside out. Another spirit wrapped its tendrils around his throat, and Noah felt his body temperature plummeting as the creature began to drain his life force.

"We need to leave!" Aurelia shouted, her flames beginning to flicker as her own energy reserves dwindled. She had focused on the cultists, leaving the spirits largely untouched, but there were simply too many human opponents to handle. Three cultists had her surrounded, their daggers weaving a net of steel that forced her to give ground. "There are too many of them!"

Noah nodded, making a split-second decision. He could feel the Devourer aspect stirring hungrily in the depths of his being—he didn’t want to activate it unless necessary. Time to go all in.

Metamorphosis!

The transformation was immediate and dramatic. Noah's body shifted and expanded, muscles growing denser as fibers realigned themselves for maximum efficiency. His bones reinforced themselves with void-touched calcium, becoming harder than steel while retaining their flexibility. His skin hardened into something approaching natural armor, taking on a metallic sheen that reflected the chaotic light of the battle. The change sent a surge of raw power through his system, pushing back the fatigue that had been building like a dam bursting.

In his enhanced state, Noah became a force of destruction. His runic chains moved faster, whipping through the air with the speed of striking serpents. His spear struck harder, each thrust carrying enough force to punch through stone. His movement speed increased dramatically, allowing him to flow between enemies like liquid death.

A cultist tried to backstab him, ritual dagger aimed at his kidneys. Noah spun with inhuman speed, catching the man's wrist and twisting until bones snapped. His metamorphosed strength was sufficient to lift the cultist off his feet one-handed before hurling him into a cluster of spirits. The impact disrupted the ethereal beings, their forms wavering as they struggled to maintain coherence.

Another group of cultists rushed him in formation, their curved blades weaving a pattern of death. Noah's chains lashed out in response, one wrapping around the lead attacker's ankle and yanking him off balance. As the man fell, Noah's spear descended like a falling star, punching through his chest and into the floor beneath with enough force to crack the marble.

The second cultist's blade scraped harmlessly off Noah's hardened skin, the lunar magic unable to penetrate his metamorphosed defenses. Noah's backhand caught the man across the jaw, the impact audible even over the chaos of battle. The cultist's head snapped to the side with a wet crack, his neck broken by the force of the blow.

"Follow me!" he called out, "I'm going to clear a path!"

He led the charge toward the window, his enhanced strength allowing him to simply bulldoze through any resistance—and kill the few cultists who had Aurelia and Erwent occupied. Cultists near the window tried to form a barrier, their blades raised in desperate defense. Noah's chains swept them aside like leaves in a hurricane, disrupting their formation and sending them tumbling. His spear work became a blur of motion, each thrust and sweep timed to perfection as he carved through their ranks.

When they reached the wall, he didn't hesitate. The palace walls were three feet thick, reinforced with magic and built to withstand even attacks from B Rankers. Luckily for him, he didn’t need to break it.

Noah used Arcane Step one final time, the magical displacement carrying all three of them through the hole and onto the palace's outer wall. The cultists' shrieks of frustration followed them into the night, but they were finally free of the immediate trap.