Enemy of the Gods Ch. 02

Hi,

I gave a warning that there was no sex in Chapter 1. Well, there's no need for a warning in this one!

This story will finish in the next chapter. Enjoy!

V

Enemy of the Gods 02

Before...

Prince Damien walked through the corridors of the dungeon. In the Capital city, he was no longer on active duty as the Commander of the Anderran forces. He should have been above ground, attending social functions and allowing his sister-in-law, Queen Irina, to match make him with a suitable consort. Instead, introverted man that he was, he had chosen to continue on his military duties, pacing through the halls of the dungeon, avoiding the political fiascos of the Capital.

As he looked up, he saw a muscled prisoner being escorted by two guards. A fallen enemy soldier, no doubt. As a survivor, he would be enslaved now. That was the fate of all who refused to concede defeat to Anderra.

The prisoner's large shoulders were hunched over in resignation, his feet dragging as he looked at the ground. It was a sad fate, but unavoidable nonetheless. Anderra regularly expanded their territory, enslaving all who refused to surrender.

Slavery provided labor for the nation, but more importantly, this brutality helped them to maintain their fearsome reputation. Fear made the management of allies, vessel nations and would-be conquests all the easier.

Damien watched the prisoner quietly. The prisoner, a few paces away, looked up, recognition dawning on his face, before a mad snarl distorted his features, the man's hatred coming out in full force. Damien watched as the prisoner, with sudden manic energy, swung the guards escorting him aside, launching himself forward, heading straight for him.

Damien stilled, his body tense, waiting. The prisoner's arms swung straight for his neck, intending to strangle him to the ground. Just before they made contact, Damien side stepped him, then grabbed the man's arm, slamming him down. There was a sickening crack as the man's spine hit the hard stone floor.

The man winced in pain. Damien place his foot over the prisoner's neck, holding him down. From the looks of it, it wasn't necessary.

The two guards who had been accompanying the prisoner ran toward Damien.

"Commander..." They called.

Damien put out a hand signal for the guards to stand back. He released his foot on the man's neck, stooping down, watching closely as the prisoner gasped for breath.

"Any last words?" Damien asked quietly.

The prisoner gasped, then grunted, rasping hoarsely, "fuck ya, ya evil, cold hearted bastard."

Damien shuffled his feet, then suddenly stomped down on the prisoner's hand. There was another crack as bones crushed underfoot. The prisoner turned toward the hand, his face more in shock than in pain. He hadn't felt it.

"You're paralyzed." Damien stated. The prisoner would die here today, if not from his injury, then for his transgression.

"Once again... any last words? For a wife, a child, someone who will miss you when you're gone..."

The prisoner looked away. He would hang onto his pride until the very last.

Damien had long taught himself to harden his heart. He felt nothing for this stranger, neither anger, guilt nor sadness. They had chosen to fight. They lost. He wished that more nations would just surrender, but he knew that there were always those who chose death over freedom.

Damien's late father had made him join the army as a boy, and his brother, King Graethe, constantly sent him on conquests. Damien played the role he was handed, and he played it well, but he just did what he had to do for the good of Anderra. The violent execution of their nation building plans was not something that he particularly relished.

The prisoner groaned, his face contorting, pain turning to sadness. Grimy, paralyzed and on the ground, tears started leaking from his eyes.

He whispered to the cold floor, "everyone I know and love has been murdered or enslaved. What words of comfort can I have for them? At least, if I had murdered you, I could have had that peace."

Damien studied the prisoner, then nodded to himself. There was nothing more to be said.

The prisoner turned to glare at him, mistaking the Prince's silent contemplation for some sadistic planning, "torture me all ya want, I have nuthin' left ta lose."

Damien tilted his head, signaling the guards to take the prisoner away. "You lost a war against Anderra, that is torture enough."

Damien turned, looking around at the cells around him. He had come specifically to find a certain inmate, before this fiasco. Behind him, he heard the prisoner curse as his battered body was dragged away.

"Ya think ya can rule the world coz of ya magic. But ya fergit about da demons of Vios. They're gonna come out and consume ya bastards!"

Damien ignored the words of the deranged prisoner. It was pitiful, but he had other things to do. Where was the woman his men had told him of? The purported demon woman from Vios who had his seasoned soldiers cowering in fear.

Then, he spotted her, in the cell just next to him. A tiny woman, swaddled in robes, her thin hands circled in heavy, short, movement-limiting iron manacles secured above her head. Long, dark hair partially obscured her small, pale face. From the way her head hung, it was obvious that she was unwell. Still, those dark eyes were staring straight at him. She had witnessed his attack on the prisoner.

His men had only spoken of how horribly evil she was. No one had told him that she would be quite so precious. Her beauty was unusual, dainty and ethereal, even. She had the face of an angel, delicate and pure, her skin so pale it seemed to shine with sweet innocence.

The way she was struggling to stay conscious now, he felt as if she was so weak that the sin of this place would be enough to kill her. Damien gripped the iron bars of the cell, his heart suddenly beating wildly, anxious for her. She shouldn't be in this disgusting place, witnessing these ugly things. He felt it on a visceral level, the wrongness of it all.

"Guard! Get me the keys to this cell, now!" A soldier immediately ran to him, keys rattling on the key chain.

Damien couldn't take his eyes off the small woman. She was still watching him, under her long, dark lashes. He regretted his act of aggression. He wished that she hadn't seen that. She was dying, and that may have been the last thing that she saw.

No. He would save her. That beautiful thing. He reached for the key from the soldier. His heart continued to ram in his chest. What was that? How was it that he was filled with nervousness now, in front of a foreign refugee of no consequence. Yet, those dark eyes continued to watch him. He imagined them judging his actions, and he felt all the more on edge for it.

"Commander..." the soldier visibly trembled, "you mustn't go in there."

Damien looked at the sniveling guard, then at the girl who hung limply on the chains, her eyes unfocussed. She needed medical attention, very soon.

"You're afraid of her?" He asked, eyes still on the girl as he spoke to the guard. "That small woman in chains..."

"There is dark magic around her, Commander. We think that she's a Vioian demon."

Whilst that girl was going to faint here and soon, his well-trained men were dead set on being superstitious. Irritated, he explained what was common knowledge, "magic users from Vios have not been seen for the past five hundred years. They do not come out of their country."

"Commander, she's not clean. She was accosted by some men... and they're all dead, their bodies withered in the most unnatural way. Onlookers say that they hardly touched her when something evil seemed to suck out their life force."

"I bear the healing light of Anderra. I fear no evil." Damien said patronizingly, plucking the key from the guard's trembling hands.

"Commander, my Prince, please, let that thing just die. It's life is fading as we speak, just let it be."

Damien grabbed the guard by the collar, shoving him aside to open the door. The hubris and superstition around such a small, helpless person really annoyed him. Whoever had written that report on her must have made a mistake. How could bodies just wither and die from touching someone?

She didn't deserve this. Already, he felt unusually protective toward her. Maybe it was her defenselessness. Unlocking the door, he stalked closer. Her dark eyes continued to track him, her attention unnerving. His heart continued ramming in his chest. It wasn't her defenselessness, he realized. He desired her. That sweet radiance and feminine delicateness to her, like perfection come alive.

"Uh." She moaned, trying to scramble backwards, but only stumbling to weigh on her chains as he drew closer. Her soft, gentle voice was like a tinkling of bells. Using the last of her strength, she was trying to move away from him, he realized. Of course, he must have frightened her. It bothered him.

Soon, he decided, she would bear his touch. She would stay under him, warming his bed, groaning in that soft, girly voice as he pleasured himself in her sweetness.

She put out a hand. A stop sign. Damien felt a slight tinge of irritation, a sense of domineering possessiveness coming to the fore. He would train her to be an obedient body servant once she had recovered. She would never say no to his attention again.

"I can't control the death shield." She whispered. "It'd attack you." It seemed that was all she had energy left to say. She slumped down unconscious immediately after.

Damien realized that she hadn't been rejecting him. She had been trying to protect him from whatever it was that his men were warning him about. His roughness toward her softened, and he felt more gentle than before. Even in such a condition, she was kind. He wanted her even more.

He knelt next to her, reaching forward to touch her cheek. His finger had not yet made contact when a black spark ignited on the tip of his finger. Damien tried it again. Again, a black spark. True to the warning, there was something here that acted outside of her consciousness.

There was no mistaking it. This was the magic of Vios. Whilst magic users in Anderra wielded light magic, the magic users of Vios used dark magic. This power had been set by some Vioian magic user. It was a curious use of magic. No magic user in Anderra could ever have placed magic that worked this way, active even when the user was not present.

Damien was undeterred. He bore the blue light of Anderran royalty. There could be no one more powerful. Boldly, he inched a finger closer to her, ignoring the black spark that once again warned him off, pushing through until his finger made contact with her cheek.

No sooner had he touched her then a black ball of energy materialized at the point of contact. His hand grew white, the blood draining. He withdrew in shock, his own blue magic rushing to the fore in self defense, forming a glow around his palm to push the noxious energy back.

Even after letting go, the malicious force continued to attack him. The darkness fought his magic, progressing upwards from the point of contact, crawling up his arm. His entire arm was now glowing blue, his body in self preservation mode, whilst the blackness wrapped around the blue and still moved upward.

Damien felt the exertion of facing off against this malevolent power. Instead of falling away, it absorbed his blue light. What kind of power was this that even he would be so challenged? Damien summoned more of his magic, using his other hand to channel his light energy to where the darkness was. A bead of sweat fell off his forehead as he exerted himself, blasting the darkness that finally started to dissipate, growing smaller until only his own blue light remained.

He tumbled to the ground, heaving for breath. Raising his head, he watched the girl. She lay motionless there, eyes closed, pale skin soft and unperturbed. She hadn't been the one to attack, Damien was sure of that.

Behind him, a guard shouted.

"Commander!" He heard the door of the cell creak open.

Damien put out his hand to stop the guard from coming further. "Don't come here." He warned. "I'm not... sure that I can control this thing."

The guard stayed outside as instructed, shouting to him from that safe distance. "Commander, perhaps you should just let the vile thing die. It's been sick for days. We can burn the body after."

That vile thing. Damien found the term incongruous with what he was looking at. His eyes adored her, the little angel. Small nose, plump lips. She was still unconscious, but presently those lips parted, and she moaned in distress. Damien felt an impulse to hold her, to warm her in his embrace.

But, that thing around her. Whoever had cast it knew that the woman was unusually beautiful, knew that she would have been accosted here in Anderra. And, the caster didn't just want to frighten any would-be molester off. He wanted to damn anyone who dared to touch her.

A powerful, vindictive being had sought to protect that sweet girl. She would die behind that misguided protection if he didn't intervene.

"Hey." Damien called out to the guard. "I'm going to break the girl out of that poison around her. I'm not sure if I can hold up against that thing... but if I faint after, please bring her to get medical care immediately."

"Commander... it's not worth risking your life..."

"It's just a little magic, I can surely break it." Damien lied, determined to go ahead with his plan. He had no idea how powerful it was, but fuck it. He was the best of Anderra. He would not cower away from the spells of any Vioian demon.

"Yes, Commander...."

He stepped up to the woman. She was murmuring something incoherently. Coming closer, he heard her murmur again, barely a whisper.

"Brother..."

Damien jolted upright, his lips curled in displeasure, upset at the reminder of his own brother. He feared no Vioian demon, but his brother was a whole different matter. If King Graethe knew that he was here, risking his life breaking foreign magic seals, there was no telling what kind of bothersome consequences he would have to put up with.

"Guard!" Damien shouted.

"If anything happens to me, and Graethe asks, say that I got attacked by that prisoner from earlier and fell unconscious."

"Commander... that man didn't even touch you..."

"Just do it." Damien snapped.

He turned to the girl.

"Hey, sleeping beauty..." He knelt next to her, positioning his hands over her head once again, eyes glowing bright blue. Taking in a shaky breath, he smiled gently down at her, bracing himself.

"Show me some love after I get you out of this."

~~~

Back to the present...

Why had Pneuma given his power over to the man who murdered him? Psychi couldn't understand it.

In a tree not far from them, a flock of pigeons suddenly took to the skies in fright.

"Getting nervous, Goddess...?" Kai asked from behind her. He put his hand on her shoulder.

Immediately, she spun around to face him, shushing him by putting a finger to her lips. The crowds quietened down. All eyes were on her, waiting to see what she would do.

Something was amiss. She was nervous, yes. Being in front of so many people did that to her. However, the birds were not reacting to her feelings. It was... something else.

She turned back around, watching the crowds that had gathered behind the barricade of Dragon soldiers. Something was off. She drew upon her magic, her eyes glowing dark black, wanting to investigate.

The Dragon soldiers tensed, mistaking her intentions as they stepped forward toward her. They would try to protect the Emperor if she attacked. She stepped away from Kai, first one step, then another, and another. The soldiers, relieved, retreated back to their original positions. Psychi closed her eyes, then cast her magic out. A soft breeze rose from where she was, blowing toward the crowds.

"You doing a mind-reading, Goddess?" The Emperor stepped closer to her.

"There is much anger against you here, Kai." She said. "Many have lost their loved ones to the death rituals."

"Yes, there are those who would like our country to stay weak forever."

Psychi continued to mind read. Everyone here hated Kai. All in the crowd here, it was universal. Too unanimous. They were all rebel clans.

"You said that you're a successful Emperor. In my presence you have ruled this nation, forced the death rituals, created more magic users than we have ever had in the past five hundred years, waged war on Anderra..."

The Emperor smiled at her words. Psychi watched him intently. His smile was too jubilant, she realized. Waging war on Anderra was not something to smile about. Anderra was the most powerful nation on earth, and they had a large army, including magic users. If anything, the idea of war with Anderra should be cause for great concern, not glee.

"I am flattered that the Goddess sees merit in my rule. Perhaps our union need not be so fraught with... misunderstandings."

"Snake." She hissed, realizing finally what was amiss. "Where are all the clans who swore loyalty to you?"

The Emperor looked uneasy at her accusation. Then, he smiled lopsidedly, "why, perhaps it is only the rebel clans who are zealous at your return..."

"Liar!" She roared. "The nation worships me, your rule notwithstanding. Those who swore loyalty to you were pushed into it, but how can it be that none of them are here to greet me? You must have sent them out."

Emperor Kai smirked.

Psychi took a step backwards, stunned at the actions of this mad man. "You've sent them to war, haven't you? You've weaponized my country, and then sent my people to their deaths."

Kai laughed this time. "Oh, dear Goddess, you do make me sound so terrible. Relax, at this time, Anderra is burning. Your brother Anima went over there to seek vengeance for you. King Graethe is dead, and Damien fell to the corruption of the death seal which he had absorbed. The Prince himself, under your brother's mind control, started razing his own country."

Psychi shook her head in disbelief. No. She had already weakened the death seal over Damien. Even if it had taken effect after, it would have been momentary. Damien would have been able to overcome it.

"As we speak, my army is breaking through their borders, whilst my dragons fly overhead and rain fire down. Are you not proud of what I have achieved as Emperor? Something that your weak brother Pneuma never dared to do. I myself would be busy with the festivities if I didn't have to come to escort you home, Goddess."

Psychi stepped backwards, her heart constricted in fear.

"You monster..." she whispered. "What have you done? Pneuma sought peace with Anderra. As do I..."

"I have made Vios strong!" Kai retorted proudly. "Why, Goddess, are you afraid for your lover? Did you think to forge an alliance with the Prince of Anderra?"

"He will never agree to an alliance after this..." she gasped, already finding it hard to breath under the overwhelming panic of what had been done.

Damien had always refused to lead his troops here to attack Anderra, despite Graethe's ambitions. After the murder of the King and the burning of his country, Damien would surely be compelled to come here, no matter the cost to his army or any remaining love that he had for her. It was going to be a mass slaughter.

"We could have lived peacefully with Anderra..." She cried.

"Peacefully? Through a marriage treaty?" Kai mocked, "there can be no marriage treaty between Vios and the Anderrans. Do you not know what happened the last time we entered a marriage alliance with those barbarians?"

She just stared at him. She hadn't known of any failed alliances. What had happened to Damien? And to Anima? And to all of her people who so foolishly followed this madman?