Chapter 647 - Chains

Zeke slumped to the muddy ground, nearly collapsing in exhaustion, both mental and physical.  Never before had he been tested so thoroughly than as heā€™d traversed the neverending battle.  Heā€™d lost count of the number of people heā€™d killed.  Powerful or weak, it didnā€™t matter.  If they stood in his way, they were destined to fall.  He crashed through thousands of enemies on his path to the center of the Bloodlake.

But he hadnā€™t done so unscathed.

One arm hung limp by his side, and despite the divine energy coursing through him, powering [Hand of Divinity], it remained entirely unresponsive.  One of his eyes was missing ā€“ yanked out by an enraged female warrior armed with a set of claws ā€“ and he couldnā€™t put any weight on his right foot for fear of it collapsing beneath him.

However, heā€™d finally left the battle behind, and he hoped that the respite would give him a chance to heal.  He had no clue why [Hand of Divinity] seemed hampered, but as he fought against the battle trance that he so wanted to let envelop him, he had no mental bandwidth left with which to discern the true nature of his situation. 

So, as heā€™d done since the beginning, he had simply pushed forward, overcoming all obstacles in his way.  Zeke had no doubts that there were other means of traversing the battlefield.  Heā€™d caught sight of what could have been points of interest, most of which were guarded by some fearsome beast that even the battle-crazed warriors gave a wide berth.  Yet, he knew he was in no state to figure his way through puzzles or solve riddles.  It was everything he could do to simply put one foot in front of the other.

That was what heā€™d done, and against all odds, heā€™d overcome the challenge. 

But he had not truly reached the center of the Bloodlake, even if it had finally come into view.  It loomed large in the distance ā€“ a massive, mountain-sized creature that reminded him of his lost titanic form.  Yet, there were miles between him and it, and he had no illusions about whether or not crossing the intervening distance would be a peaceful endeavor.

Still, he had no choice.

Certainly, Zeke couldnā€™t simply turn back.  Not only was there nowhere to truly go, but he suspected that if he plunged back into the fray, his demise would soon follow.  As powerful as he was, he simply wasnā€™t strong enough to survive it.  Not without succumbing to the very wrath he was meant to resist. 

For a while, Zeke just knelt there, his knuckles digging into the bloody mud.  Behind him, the battle raged, but heā€™d crossed a line the other warriors would not breach.  He was safe ā€“ for now.  That would soon change, because when he looked up, he saw that thousands of statues had appeared.  Spaced equidistant from one another, they each depicted an enraged warrior fighting against a set of imprisoning chains. 

Was it metaphorical?  Was it meant to depict his own struggle?

Or was something else at play?  Zeke had no idea, and he knew he wouldnā€™t discover the truth until he continued forward.  So, as soon as he felt up to it, he pushed himself unsteadily to his feet and limped ahead. 

The second he passed the first statue, the chains snapped out.  Zeke attempted to dodge, but even if heā€™d been entirely healthy, he never could have managed it.  The chain pierced his shoulder, erupting from his chest a second later.  Blood and bits of bone rained down onto the muddy turf. 

Zeke fell to his knees, gasping for air, but only for a moment until the chain started pulling backward.  He screamed as the links tore through him, but that agony was nothing compared to what he felt with the end of the chain ā€“ which had somehow morphed into a hook ā€“ dug into his chest. 

He stumbled toward the statue, which had begun to sink into the ground.  Boiling blood seeped from its base, telling him in no uncertain terms what would happen if he let himself be dragged underground.

He resisted, his feet sliding across the ground even as the hook ripped into his flesh and embedded itself into his ribcage.  He screamed himself hoarse as, inch by inch, he was dragged toward the statue.

But then, divine energy pulsed through him, letting him plant himself on the ground and halt his slide.  It was just in time, too, because he was less than a foot away from the now half-submerged statue. 

It twisted its head and stared at him with unblinking implacability. 

Then, its face contorted in rage as it opened its mouth in a silent scream that somehow managed to echo in Zekeā€™s mind. 

He gritted his teeth, bent his back, then took another step.  It was the most difficult of Zekeā€™s life, and yet, with divine energy rushing through him, looping around, and infusing his entire body, he managed to follow it up with another.  Then another after that.

After ten feet, Zekeā€™s mind started to clear.  Twenty, and he began to hope for the best.  Thirty, and he felt relief suffusing him.

Then, just when heā€™d begun to relax ā€“ at least as much as was possible given his situation ā€“ another chain lashed out, skewering him from the other direction.  The pull came next, but this time, Zeke was ready for it.  Still, with two chains yanking him in opposite directions, Zeke felt as if he was being ripped in half. 

Yet, it didnā€™t matter if he continued forward or retreated.  The pull would remain the same.  So, he bowed his head, ground his teeth together, and took another step. 

The third chain came around the twentieth step.  The fourth wasnā€™t far behind.  And with the fifth, Zeke lost track of those sorts of details.  It was difficult to count steps when his chest had been impaled from five different directions, each of them threatening to end him, then and there. 

He trudged ahead, and soon enough, he had so many chains sprouting form his body that, from afar, he would havenā€™t been visible.  Even so, he kept moving forward.  The statues followed behind him, dragging furrows across the bloody landscape.

His progress was slow.  A step a day, at best, and even that taxed his strength and willpower to such an extent that nothing else remained but to keep moving forward.  If heā€™d had a thought to spare, he mightā€™ve considered that heā€™d once again found his way back into his comfort zone.  After all, the simple act of moving forward had characterized most of his time in Hell.

After a while, he realized that he was dragging hundreds of statues forward, an inch at a time.  If he let up for even a second, he would have been dragged beneath the mud.  After that, he would die.  Zeke had no illusions about that. 

By all rights, he should have been ripped apart.  However, with a combination of divine energy and his embrace of the very concept of endurance, he held himself together. 

Finally, after an interminable journey, he reached the feet of the mountainous titan, though he didnā€™t even know it until he heard a voice so loud that it echoed throughout the entire Circle of Wrath.

ā€œLittle man,ā€ it rumbled, and the waves that had so far been held at bay trembled at his words.  ā€œYou come to challenge me, the Rage Titan.  Do you not know the foolishness of your task?  Do you not realize just how doomed you truly are?ā€

The titanā€™s very voice screamed at him to give up, to lay down in the blood-soaked mud and surrender to the agony coursing through him so thoroughly.  He ignored those calls.  Instead, he raised his head, inch by painful inch, and glared defiantly at the mountainous titan.

The thing loomed over him, its form dripping with boiling blood that continued to pool at its feet.  The distant walls of the Bloodlake churned with every drop that hit the muddy ground. 

ā€œIā€™ve come this far,ā€ Zeke growled, his voice barely audible amidst the constant roar of the waves. 

The Rage Titan let out a booming laugh, a sound so loud that it shook the ground and sent Zeke stumbling to his knees.  ā€œVery well, mortal.  Show me your wrath.  Prove your anger.  Let it consume you, as it has all who came before and all who will come after.ā€

The Rage Titan slammed its fist into the ground, sending a shockwave that rippled across the landscape.  Harnessing a reservoir of strength he didnā€™t know he had, Zeke leaped aside, barely cresting the wave of muddy earth.  But his efforts were for naught, because the statues were caught in the ripple.  They were thrown aside, taking Zeke with them. 

He skipped across the bloody terrain, only to come to a rest nearly a mile away.  When he did, he rose to the sound of the Rage Titanā€™s rumbling laughter. 

It said something, but Zeke could scarcely hear it.  A flicker of divine energy managed to keep his body together as he threw himself forward, only to be met by a geyser of boiling blood that erupted from the ground at the Rage Titanā€™s gesture.  It enveloped Zeke, stripping the flesh from his body and leaving nothing but a skeleton behind. 

But if even a little of Zekeā€™s body remained, he could rebuild.  All it took was divine energy.  Before he even knew what he was doing, he pushed past whatever barrier had kept his power at bay, and his body reformed ā€“ entirely unblemished, save for the chains that had embedded themselves into his very bones. 

ā€œYou are slow, little mortal,ā€ the Rage Titan taunted.  ā€œWeak.  You think endurance alone will save you?ā€

Zeke didnā€™t bother with a reply.  Instead, he brought his mind into a pinpoint focus, flaring [Hand of Divinity].  White light suffused his body, bursting from his eyes and mouth as he charged forward.  The statues felt light as a feather.  The chains no longer hurt.  They were as much a part of him now as his natural limbs.

And he meant to use them. 

The chains burst forth with divine light as he spun, whipping them around in a whirlwind of activity.  Thousands scorched through the air, tearing into the Rage Titan with unmatched ferocity.  Meat and stone showed the landscape as Zekeā€™s chains sawed through the monsterā€™s ankle. 

But the Rage Titan was the size of a mountain, and Zekeā€™s efforts ā€“ though mighty ā€“ were that of an insect.  It lifted its foot, then stomped, shaking the ground and sending a ripple of blood to cut through Zeke at the waist.  There was no denying the attackā€™s power, and yet, it did no good.

Zeke was cut in half, but his body refused to accept the injury.  And with so much divine energy flowing through him, it didnā€™t need to.  Tendrils of flesh extended, grabbed hold of one another, and pulled the pieces back together.  Even before the ripple of weaponized blood finished its flight, Zeke was once again whole. 

He leaped, grabbing hold of the Rage Titanā€™s leg.  It was an amalgam of flesh and earth, so it offered plenty of handholds.  And where it didnā€™t, Zekeā€™s chains made up the difference.  In seconds, heā€™d scaled hundreds of feet. 

ā€œYou dare?!ā€ the Rage Titan screamed, its voice scorching across the entire Circle of Wrath.  Warriors exploded at the mere sound.

Zeke, however, endured.

Moreover, he homed in on five locations.  From afar, he couldnā€™t even feel them.  Yet, now that heā€™d come so close, he knew what they were.  Just like the core of divine energy within him, the Rage Titan had similar nexuses across his body.  One in each calf, one on its chest.  Two in its shoulders.  And then, at last, one embedded in its head.  Zekeā€™s plan was to rip those free.  When he did, he hoped that it would bring the giant down to size.

So, he climbed.

When he reached the first nexus, he found that it was represented by a glowing white crystal.  He hit it with every ounce of strength he could muster, but it remained entirely unscathed.  He hit it again and again, but to similar results.  All the while, the Rage Titan aimed one attack after another in his direction.  Zeke took each one, reforming in their wake. 

And yet, he knew he was running out of time and energy.  Whatever heā€™d done to coopt the chains had drained his divine energy much more quickly than anything heā€™d ever done before, and as a result, he knew it would run dry before he managed to even scratch the crystal.

He had no choice but to change tactics.

With that in mind, Zeke focused on the energy itself.  The crystal was just a vessel, he soon found.  The real prize was within.  And with how much experience heā€™d recently gained circulating divine energy, it was childā€™s play to grab hold of it and siphon it away. 

The Rage Titan screamed, increasing its efforts to kill or dislodge him.  Ironically, Zeke used its own energy to reform, draining the entire crystal in only a few moments.  Then, he used his chains to leap from one calf to the next and repeat his feat. 

Once that was done, the titan fell to its knees, its legs entirely drained of all power.  That made it easier for Zeke to reach the other crystals, which he drained without issue ā€“ at least until he finally arrived at the largest and most powerful.

ā€œYou take from me that which I have given my entire life to accrue.  Youā€¦you are no god.  You are a devil.  A monster.  An abomination.ā€

ā€œWhatever,ā€ Zeke muttered, latching onto the giantā€™s final vestige of power.  When he pulled it within himself, it raged through his body with so much potency that it very nearly unmade him.  Zeke screamed.  He could take it.  He could endure.  He would not be defeated.

And then, suddenly, it was over.

After a moment of eternal silence, the Rage Titan exploded.  Zeke slammed his chains into the ground even as the shockwave tried to send him tumbling miles away.  He whipped around like a windsock, refusing to be dislodged.

Finally, it died down and fell face-first into the muddy ground.

When he looked up, he saw a small figure sprawled nearby.  The man was barely more than a skeleton with skin draped tightly over his body.  Zeke picked himself up and limped in his direction.

The man ā€“ bearded and dirty and barely even alive ā€“ tried to flinch away. 

ā€œYouā€¦you took it allā€¦ā€

ā€œYouā€™re the Rage Titan.ā€

ā€œI am the god of wrath, you dull mortal.  You have defeated me, but wrath is eternal.  You will ā€“ā€

Zeke had no interest in hearing the manā€™s rant, so he quickly brought his foot down in a vicious stomp that exploded his skull. 

ā€œNot much of a god,ā€ he mumbled.

Then, a rumble grabbed his attention, and he realized that the wall of blood had finally collapsed and had begun to rush toward him.