When they reached the academy, they could see disciples fleeing for their lives and others chasing after them. Several could be seen shuffling around mindlessly, their bodies seemingly still alive but their minds already gone. Some were leaping from roofs, attacking and biting other students, tearing into them with their nails like rabid animals.
"They've been turned!" A guard cried out, readying his spear.
Arjana looked around, trying to recognize any of the faces that were in chaos. He spotted Longnie, distraught, wielding her sword, decapitating a disciple, already an Undead. Despite her lack of empathy for the fallen, he knew she pitied their fate. Across the field, Arjana spotted the young boy that had placed a frog in his tongue. He shuffled around the scene, its torso nearly split in half from the chaos, but Arjana knew he had already been turned.
He pulled his bow from his back, carefully placing a feathered arrow between his fingers as he placed it on the ready. He raised his arm, shakily taking aim at the young boy before him that stood out amongst the sea of shambling bodies. He took a deep breath, then let the arrow fly. A single hit, directly in the center of the boy's forehead. His small frame arched back, falling to the ground in a single motion without another move. Children. Workers. Disciples who had all trained so tirelessly to perfect their skills and talents, were now nothing more than objects to a band of Witches sworn to the Dark Lord's bidding.
A loud screech pulled Arjana from his sorrow, forcing his head upward to look at the being flying above. The Red Witch. Strange green liquid sprayed from her mouth, her jaw unhinged to let it pour over the fields and melted away those who fought, aiding those who'd been turned. She moved about the sky like a dark goddess, turning her attention to swarming groups where her magic would fall upon them, peeling flesh from bone and melting skulls away in mere seconds. Their agonized screams filled Arjana with fury. He fired an arrow at the Red Witch but she was too quick. She flew across the sky, hunting for her main target.
He spotted Hannu fighting in the distance, fending off the hordes of Undead with his Bronze Staff, knocking them back with ease before swatting away a few more. He was barely breaking a sweat as he rolled his invincible staff between his hands and feet with precision, but his attention was focused on the masses and not the looming threat overhead.
"HANNU!" Arjana shouted as he ran toward his master. "ABOVE!"
The Red Witch unleashed her fury on Hannu below and Arjana lunged forward, pushing Hannu out of the way just in time to avoid the green sludge now burning the ground. The two rolled over before being left sprawled out on the ground, weapons just out of their reach. The pair looked on in horror as the bodies of their comrades melted away into nothing more than piles of flesh and bone, resembling strange stews that came from the kitchen rather than the human beings they once were.
"Thanks," Hannu said as he pulled himself from the ground.
Arjana fired off another three shots from his bow, carefully fetching his arrows from the Undead to replenish his quiver when he was assured of their demise. Arjana took his bow, edging the man before him before smashing it over his head. When he buckled from the harsh wooden beating, Arjana pulled the dagger from his waist and jammed it into his skull, only pulling it back when he was sure the man was finished.
"Meeeoooowrrr!" Suddenly, an Undead landed on Arjana's back, trying to sink her teeth into his neck. Arjana took a look and realized it was Kat, she too had turned. "Kat! Kat!" Arjana shouted, trying to elbow Cat Girl and knock her off his back. "Meeoooowrrr!" She growled and hissed, her claws sharp, and she was able to hang onto Arjana's back as he swung wildly to shake her off. Then he felt somebody else landed on his back. There was a momentary battle on his back, and before long, Cat Girl dropped off his back onto the ground. Tiger Girl too landed on the ground, looking at her dead friend, after sinking her claws into Cat Girl to save Arjana.
Arjana looked at Tiger Girl and said, "Thanks." Tiger Girl continued to stare at her lifeless best friend lying on the ground. "Sorry," Arjana said.
"There!" someone shouted, "she's over there!"
Arjana reequipped his bow, sheathing the dagger on his belt swiftly before turning to the voice that shouted out. Wuruk was quick to react, flying through the air as if by some unseen magic until he was right on Lidha's tail. She tossed the head of the boy she'd just decimated onto the ground, feeling the threatening presence growing over her as the eyes locked on her position. Arjana ran toward her, but his motions were delayed by a pair of Undead that quickly moved against him. Their arms lengthened to claw at him and forced him back.
Wuruk continued his pursuit. "I have you now," Wuruk stated through gritted teeth. "There's nowhere left to run!" The Mananggal was forced into a corner, with the stone walls behind her arching higher than she could manage to fling herself. "Show me your face," Wuruk threatened, his staff pointed toward her. Slowly, she turned, a strange gurgling sound breaking from her lips as she faced the monk. Her face distorted and weathered, the years of her life showing in the wrinkles over her hideous and aged face, while her unhinged jaw gradually fell back into place.
"There is nowhere left to go, Lidha," Wuruk stressed to her. "This ends here."
"This ends here... for you!" Lidha shouted back, lunging at Wuruk's throat with her long, protruding fangs.
Wuruk swiftly dodged her attack, seemingly familiar with her movements and the way she chose to attack her victims, always the throat. The pair set off on their final battle, one that Wuruk was determined to complete in honor of his own lost wife and child.
Arjana, busy with the pair of Undead upon him, was shocked when he heard the woman muster up words. He had thought Nya was a mute. Despite her voice being not what he expected, it only confirmed for him the truth of her deception, just as Wuruk had claimed. This only fueled his anger more.
He pulled the dagger from his waist, choosing to favor it over his bow due to the proximity of his attackers. As one lunged for his throat, he dodged it, forcing it to continue its speedy strides past him while he faced the other. He arched the blade in his hand, the hilt adjusting comfortably in his grip as he slashed toward the Undead before him. At first the man pulled away, his eyes following the silver flash of the blade as it moved. These Undead weren't all mindless, some were clever. Clever enough to defend themselves and watched for oncoming attacks.
It was an unexpected turn of events, and Arjana nearly lost himself as his slashes were dodged one way or the other. The woman who'd lunged earlier soon came to his back, and Arjana turning to see her jumping on him but was unable to defend.
"Not today!" a voice echoed, its tone familiar to Arjana's ears.
"Gajja!" Arjana cried out.
The elephant prophet pushed the woman away using his large head and tusks to toss her into the air and against one of the academy's stone walls. Her body splattered on impact, and though he knew it wouldn't kill her, it would delay further attack.
Longnie soon followed, her slashes landing on the man Arjana was facing. She bounced through his shadow, staying just out of his sight lines as she severed his fingers, hands, and arms before thrusting her sword into the back of his head.
"You looked like you could use some help," she teased.
"We could use all the help we can get," Arjana replied, relieved to see the two at his side.
Gajja let out a thunderous war cry, his trunk swinging through the air as he stomped the ground, positioning himself like a wrestler, thrusting his palms forward, ready to attack any foe that dare set upon him or his friends with his blue body like a beacon, beckoning for his opponents to come to him and try to take down his warrior stature.
The number of Undeads continued to grow, with the Witches descending from the sky, flying lower to do some summoning. Each member of the academy they felled would rise again in their service, forcing Longnie, Arjana, Hannu, and Gajja to sever their heads or stab them before they could rise against them, should they be left away from the attention of the gathering Witches.
Opposite to their position, Wuruk fought with Lidha, the two locked intently in their own battle of the ages with both anger and hatred to anchor their positions. Wuruk slid across the ground, his walking stick centered at his chest as he slammed his palms together. His eyes closed and he could feel the swarming presence around him. The Witches began to gather, preparing to take down their most annoying foe from the past, and Wuruk, too, prepared himself for the end.
"HUNDRED BURNING FISTS!" he cried out, his eyes opening to reveal a hail of fireballs that rained down from above.
Lidha stood, stunned by the man's words as a storm of fire pummeled her from the sky above, taking several Witches and Undeads with her. Unfortunately, some innocents were caught in the chaos, and left to burn, but the Witches who remained only smiled as their numbers grew.
"There's too many!" Hannu shouted, regrouping with his comrades as the dust and smoke settled from the fireballs.
Wuruk watched as the Undead hordes continued to grow in number, swarming the academy's walls as the Dark Lord's army only swelled in response to their every resistance. He let out a sigh, pulling himself to the center of the academy grounds.
From above, the Red Witch moved in, descending to the ground from its flying onslaught of attacks to finish what the Witches could not. Her pale, skeletal face seemed to unhinge, letting out a ferocious screech that nearly damaged their ear drums as she glided toward Wuruk. She would not see her army undone by an old enemy.
"Wuruk! You old fool!" she scolded, her voice an echo of tormented souls that crawled from her throat into the air. Her boney fingers clawed at the wind, pulling it and winding it toward herself as if to push it into her lungs. Wuruk seemed unbothered by the frightening specter approaching him with rapid speed.
"Wuruk?" Arjana asked, watching the man casually stride to the center of what seemed more like an arena.
He smiled at the chaos one last time, curling his jade-beaded stick into his hands and clasping his hands together around it. He chanted some strange mantra, closing his eyes with an expression of complete and utter peace painted across his wrinkled face as the hordes seemed drawn to him, filing in with some running and others shambling toward his presence as if by command. "Wuruk, no!" The chief cried out from the other side of the academy, rushing toward him, but it was too late.
Wuruk exploded into a whirlwind of fire, pulling in the Undeads surrounding him and the Witches from the sky. His body exploded into an inferno as the twister of heated chaos consumed all within its range. The group ducked down, trying to avoid the bits of body parts flying over their heads. They hid behind a discarded cart, using its massive form for protection as they could hear the bodies hitting its toppled form.
A final sacrifice to take down the army before it could amass any further. The Red Witch had tried to flee the flames but her body too was sucked into the vortex that was Wuruk's final attack. The bits of flesh peeled back from her face, leaving only the bone to remain as she screamed into the void, her tendons stretched and arched forward as if asking for someone to help her. But no one helped her. She decided to leave the scene, flying away in burning pain.
The firestorm faded, leaving few of the Undeads to remain standing and willing to fight. An enormous crater sat at the center of the academy grounds, speckled with black ash and fragments of clothing and human remains. The air was foul, with the stench of the dead still lingering and now touched with the scent of burning bodies.
Arjana and the others slowly rose from their position, assessing the situation and taking note of who and what remained to stand with them and against them. Their numbers dwindled, with many of the disciples laying motionless on the ground. Still, it was more reassuring than seeing them rise once again to fight them.
Hannu used his staff to snap their necks and knock them to the ground, using the butt end of his weapon to smash through their skull and into the ground. Gajja used nothing more than his magical powers to throw them against walls, piling them up. It seemed brutal but they had to utilize whatever means in their power to make sure that the Undeads stayed dead.
Arjana moved around, his eyes scanning the remains of the dead for any signs of Nya. None of his party had taken notice of the fading sunlight, to the fact that their day had been spent killing and destroying both friend and foe because of a being Arjana had grown to hate with his entire being. Everything came full circle, starting and ending with the Dark Lord and a vile plan that he had in order to gain further dominance across the lands.
A silhouette slithered out into the setting sun, Arjana quickly took notice of a floating head and the long, tentacle-like intestines writhing beneath it. He pursued the head, watching as it eerily floated back to its body, reattaching at the neck. Her body was heavily burned and covered in deep wounds. Her hair swept across her face but slowly parted, revealing Nya, who was badly injured but still alive.
"You deceived me," Arjana said with deep regret in his voice.
Nya's form twisted and contorted, with her hand reaching out toward Arjana for help. He ignored her plea, bringing out an arrow for his bow and aiming it right for her heart. He trembled, tears flowing down his cheek as he prepared to strike down the only thing that had even begun to make him feel love again.
"Ar-Arjana," she said in a low sweet tone, "I... I am sorry."
Arjana's brow furrowed, disgusted with the sight before his eyes. The pain in his chest mounted, fueling nothing more than utter despair inside of him.
"No," he whispered. "You filthy... lying... You will not lie to me again."
He released the arrow, shooting it straight into her heart. The wind was forced from her body and she fell to the ground, twitching and writhing in pain. Her body contorted, as her head once more tried to dislodge and seek out sustenance to restore her.
"No," Arjana stated once more. "You don't get to ruin anymore lives!"
You must aim for the head. Wuruk's voice echoed in his mind.
Arjana reloaded his bow, curling the feathered edge of the arrow in his grip as its spear-like tip slowly aimed for the Mananggal's head. He released it. The arrow pierced her skull, killing her instantly as her head fell to the ground.
Arjana stared for a few moments at the body before him, the tears falling from his eyes ceasing to flow. It didn't change back into Nya, nor did it reach out for help. She didn't even try to attack him in her final motion. She could've consumed him and regained some strength, but she didn't.
His feet began to carry him as he let his bow fall from his hand onto the ground. His body heavy, weighing him down and crying out for him to collapse on the dirt and rest but he ignored it. He shuffled across the academy grounds, ears hearing voices that called out to him but he gave no response.
He could see her face, and the face of his lover, the face of the woman who laid against the well in the village from the morning, and the face of the woman in the Banjaran village. He paused, looking down at the bodies that still scattered the grounds, wondering who would bury them and read their funeral rites.
Arjana's chest pounded as tears rolled off his cheeks. He couldn't breathe, but he mustn't stop moving. He clutched at his chest, wishing he could tear through clothing, flesh, and bone to part his ribcage and tear his own heart out to stop the pain.
Longnie watched as he walked slowly toward the entrance, like a man searching for something but not knowing what to look for, like a man who had lost everything.
He stumbled out from the gates of the academy, recounting the days that led to all of this. The screaming of the girl who fell into his arms, who slept peacefully in his bedroll and coughed at the intensity of his coffee. The girl who in response to his kindness would match it with her own home-cooked meal, who smiled when he enjoyed her offerings. The woman who kissed him without hesitation when she emerged, glistening and purified by the waters of the lake. The woman who smiled at him and swam with him in the waters of Chakra Lake as they cleansed themselves. The girl that he made intense love to. But had stolen his soul.
He remembered his own village, and the screams that erupted from the flames that burned it all away. He looked down at his hands, blood seeming to appear from the air upon them as he remembered holding his love, her eyes black and void of the life that had been in them, their child torn away, yet Arjana was left to remain.
His mind returned to reality, as the bodies of those trying to flee lay scattered around him. Their stories had all drawn to an end, but his continued forward. An anguished scream erupted from the inner pits of his being, unleashed on the world with unbridled ferocity as it echoed into the sky. His scream of pain and agony were not from the slashes across his body or the bruises that covered him from head to toe.
The pain that erupted was from a deeply wounded heart.