The monster turned toward him and revealed its many lines of teeth again as it slithered closer and opened its mouth to fire the abyssal stream. It extended its head toward him and he vaguely heard Wulfsun cry his name. He raised the blade and released the stored mana as the beast unleashed its magic. Light consumed his vision and he held his breath and closed his eyes.
The blade lowered to a full stop and Devol’s eyes remained closed. He felt nothing but in the darkness, he heard a loud splash as something landed in the water. The beast began to wail in pain. When he opened his eyes and looked down, his mouth dropped open. The blade glowed with a brilliant light that ran through the entire sword, the abyssal magic was gone, and the illumination from the majestic lit up the cavern. The blade, hilt, and guard all sparkled like new and glimmered brightly. Not only that, but he felt rejuvenated like his mana had gone from a still pool to a flowing fountain.
“Devol!” Wulfsun shouted. “I don’t know what you did but by the Astrals, keep doing it.”
“I don’t know what I did either,” he shouted in response.
“Look out!” the Templar warned and ran forward as he gathered his mana into his gauntlets.
The boy whirled toward the creature that once again surged forward with its mouth open to devour him. With a yell, he raised the sword and swung it and a flash of light blocked his vision.
The cavern became suddenly and uncomfortably silent. Devol drew a deep breath, startled when he saw the inside of the beast’s maw in front of him, and took a few hasty steps back. The beast didn’t move and he frowned and focused on a white line on the top of its mouth. The line separated slowly and the creature fell into two halves that shook the ground with their impact. Despite his new influx of life from the sword, he fell to his knees. Unbelievably, he had slain the monster.
Splashes behind him drew him back to reality as Wulfsun ran up to him. “You did it, Devol. Well done, boy!”
“That’s it?” he asked and breathed deep. “The beast is dead? Are you sure? The fiends outside would turn to—” They stood side by side and stared as it began to melt into the inky liquid the boy had come to know as abyssal magic. The entire creature disintegrated and formed viscous strands of the magic that combined into a small blob. It floated through the hole in the ceiling.
“That can’t be good.” Wulfsun helped Devol to his feet. “Come on. Let’s see how the others are doing.”
The boy nodded. Although he felt his mana had been rejuvenated, he still struggled with extreme weariness. He frowned at the hole and tried to decide if he could even attempt the leap.
“Do you need some help?” the Templar asked and caught hold of the back of his coat.
“Wulfsun—wait. What are you doing?” The man made no response but picked him up and drew his arm back as he pointed at the hole with his other hand.
Devol’s eyes widened when he realized what was about to happen. “Control yourself. There’s no need to use too much—” Wulfsun tossed him through the hole and into the temple. His instincts fortunately kicked in and he flipped himself and directed mana into his legs seconds before he pounded into the ceiling. Imprints of his boots were left when he pushed off the tiles and landed on the floor in the main chamber, his legs shaking.
He looked at the hole as he dragged in a breath. The Templar had managed to jump high enough to catch hold of the edges of the hole. He pulled himself through quickly and dusted himself off. “I should have brought a towel,” he muttered and looked at Devol with a wide grin. “Fancy footwork there! I might have used a little too much vis, I think. The distance looked farther than it was.”
Devol’s legs continued to shake slightly but he nodded and thanked him for the assistance. “We should go check on the others, right?”
“Right! Let’s get movin’,” Wulfsun declared and slapped the young magi’s back enthusiastically. “I want to make sure that beastie is dead.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
When Devol and Wulfsun stepped cautiously out of the temple, they saw the others looking up at something that held their attention. They did the same, startled, as the ooze-like remains of the beast congealed into a large orb before it erupted and scattered large amounts of the dark fog around the area. They all held their mouths or sucked in their breath with the exception of Wulfsun, who began to yell, “Calm yourselves! It’s all right.” He held his arms outstretched and his palms up. “It won’t hurt ye but keep your anima up.”
The young swordsman lowered his hands as the abyssal fog drifted around him and finally sank into the ground. “What is it doing? All the fiends turned into this too after we killed them.”
“It’s the abyssal magic,” Wulfsun explained as the others regained their composure. “It’s something…unique it does. It seems to recycle itself in some manner.”
“Don’t all forms of magic do that?” Jazai asked and peered at the dome as some of the remnants began to stick to the roof.
“Magic replenishes and mana reforms, but only if there is enough to start with,” the Templar replied. He folded his arms as he focused on a trail of the remains that drifted in front of his eyes. “You create a mana missile and fire it, and once it hits, it disappears. This stuff…I am not sure what happens exactly but it leaves trace amounts that are simply absorbed into other concentrated pieces of it. It happens in the abyssal realm too and much more quickly than here. It’s one of the reasons why you don’t wanna stay there too long. No matter how many of those bastards
