Still, the risk of him wanting to kill me quickly was there, so I put on my armor and filled it with Death power until it was saturated. The breastplate held a frostone and possessed a defensive kind of Cold Magic. I could easily take a hit from a lightning bolt in the armor now and be safe. I might even be able to take a couple of lightning strikes and be all right.
Once attired in the armor, I commanded Talon to grip me in her claws and fly me to the Warlock’s tower. I took my kusarigama and Grave Oath, but I left the Dragon Sword behind. While it was my most powerful weapon, it was more beneficial to keep the Warlock unaware that I possessed it. I could reveal it to him when we fought in our battle, when I used it to sever his head from his shoulders.
The monks had told me where to go, and finding the Warlock’s tower proved to be an easy enough task. The mountains we flew over were jagged and barren, but, as they’d said, there was a large grassy plateau in the middle of the mountain range, and it was there that the Warlock’s tower was located. Storm clouds swirled around the top of the tower, and bright purple veins of lightning flickered menacingly against them.
The Warlock could see through his storm clouds, and I was sure he must have seen me coming from miles away. As I neared his tower, I braced myself for a lightning strike, half expecting him to launch a sudden attack, but none came. When I came close enough to the tower to see it in detail, I noticed that there were only two doors: one on the ground, and one right at its zenith.
I was sure that the ground door was for those the Warlock considered beneath him (the vast majority of people), and since I intended to approach him as an equal, there was only one logical choice here. I flew up to the top door and landed on the gleaming white marble balcony next to it. Talon perched there and furled her wings to wait, while I went and bashed on the heavy steel door.
“You know who this is, Warlock!” I roared. “Open up!”
The door swung slowly open, and the huge, opulent chamber within was revealed. Paintings and tapestries by Yeng’s greatest artistic masters hung on the walls. Ancient Yengish statues, looted from temples and conquered castles by the Warlock’s army, stood in great numbers on the polished black marble floor. And there, standing in the center of the room, the decrepitude and ugliness of his looks magnified by the beauty of the artworks surrounding him, was the Warlock.
He wore his shimmering silken crimson and black robes, and his long, snow-white hair fell limply from an age-spotted face. Twin mustaches fell from gray lips, and his sunken cheeks made him look more skeleton than living man.
“Welcome to my tower, God of Nothing.” He swept his arm before him in a mocking gesture of welcome. “Have you come to beg for mercy? To ask for forgiveness for what you have done to me, and hope that I will spare you your worthless life? Or perhaps you think you can do what you did to Rodrick, and kill me singlehandedly? If the latter is the case, you are sorely mistaken. You can try to kill me, but I assure you, you will not succeed. I am stronger than Rodrick ever could have been, and I will crush you beneath my heel like the insect you are, God of Death, if you raise your hand against me in this chamber, here where my power is at its greatest.”
He spoke with the calm confidence of someone utterly faithful in their own strength, and there was no indication at all that he was afraid of me. This was good; I planned to exploit that confidence. It struck me as odd, though, that he knew about me and Rodrick. Why on earth would he have known about that? And why was he comparing his power to Rodrick’s?
My heart seized in my chest as I realized what I had almost purposefully avoided. The Warlock served the Blood God. Of that much, I was certain. Then, he must be in league with the Hooded Man. But what about the Spirit of Prosperity? How was it connected to the Blood God’s aims?
They were questions whose answers I’d have to seek out later.
“I thought about trying to kill you one on one,” I said, pretending that I didn’t know his current form was not his real body, “but I decided not to. It would just be too easy. It’d take all the fun out of wringing your scrawny neck if there weren’t other people around to see me do it.”
The Warlock cackled. “You’re just as arrogant as the rumors say, God of Nothing. If things had turned out differently, you could have made a splendid ally. But you chose poorly, a long time ago, and set off on a path that could never be allied with ours.”
“Enough with the bullshit. I’m here to challenge you, Warlock, to an open battle. Your army against mine, anywhere you want. Name the place and time, and we’ll meet you there, and settle this the old-fashioned way.”
He stared at me for a few seconds with surprise and disbelief etched into the wrinkles of his gaunt face, but then he began to laugh. Softly at first, but soon his cackling morphed into a riotous cacophony. Finally, his fit of laughter passed, and he looked up at me with mocking tears of mirth in his eyes.
“Do you really want to do this, God
