“And how would you do that?” asked Azrael, “You think I do not know you have been traveling on Refuge among the Falosini Armies. Leading them against potential allies as usual. I would bet your wrath that you have lost the ability to reach out to your self from other timelines!”
Ceroj charged Azrael, and his sword swung with enough force to begin cutting reality. Azrael had already moved away and was hidden, and Ceroj’s attack smashed uselessly through the facade and the wall behind it. In that moment of confusion and reeling, Azrael’s scythe snaked out, perfectly lining up with an annihilator bone armor plate on Ceroj’s shinguard. It caught Ceroj and tripped up the Red cloaked Falosini, and then spun around with the blunt rod of the scythe knocking into the falling Ceroj’s chest.
Azrael said in a hollow voice, “I cast you down, Ceroj the Red. I cannot take away your rank as Falosini Sovereign, but the corruption you have accepted into your spirit drags you from your greater self. You are no longer of the Assembly of the Ascended. You are on the path to become a new Warmonger. Stop yourself before you take a path even I cannot save you from…”
Ceroj found himself rushing through time and space as dimensions rushed around him. Energy flared around him, and suddenly he felt so cold. His breath was stolen and he found himself floating high in the sky above the Glacial Wastes of Refuge.
Then he realized he wasn’t floating, he was falling, and falling with increasing speed. Suddenly his feelings of cold were replaced by extreme heat as the feathers of his wings began to burn. Then he struck the icefield. There was an explosion of snow, and a crater was there when the snow finally settled again. In the center of the crater lay a shattered, burned Ceroj wrapped in a fetal position.
Ceroj raised his head slowly, he saw a creature approach. It looked like a Bestial, but its body had been treated to the same surgeries done to one of Warmonger’s Dead. Its chest, arms, and legs were covered by grey carapace armor. The bestial’s head had a blue mohawk, and its eyes glowed with the power of undeath.
Ceroj snarled, reaching for his sword.
But before he could gather it, the bestial dead spoke, “You have suffered the great fall, just as Mar’un’ga did in the old days of the K’ias Wars. Ceroj the Red, you are the true leader, the true master, now that the master of Old is dead and gone. You are the true heir to Wa…”
Ceroj grabbed the bestial dead by the neck and raised him up cutting off his speech.
“You listen to me, monster, I will destroy your kind and all who served the Warmonger,” Ceroj said with true rage that caused smoke to roll off his shoulders.
“But don’t you wish to destroy the Quall N’drone, Ceroj?” asked the bestial dead, “Don’t you wish for revenge for so many loved ones lost in their endless hunger?”
“I do,” said Ceroj.
“Then let us die for you,” said the bestial dead, “Hundreds of thousands of Warmonger’s Dead await their master, and their master is annihilated. And they will die for you Ceroj, die in battle against the Quall or any target you wish…”
Ceroj said, “You want to die for me? Why?”
“It is our role to kill and be killed in battle,” said the Bestial Dead, “Of all the beings, on all of Refuge, only your pain, your anger, your rage is equal to our old master. And your spirit has the right broken edges to control our kind.”
The Bestial Dead handed a control crystal to Ceroj. Ceroj cut the Bestial dead in half, seperating its upper half from its lower half and sending them flying in two different directions. Walking away from its dead body, Ceroj began to reach into the control crystal. He could feel countless armies scattered across the planet Refuge.
As his wings regenerated, he shapeshifted a Red cloak to cover his face and head. He leapt into the air and began flying towards the nearest Falosini army post. Ceroj would ponder this control crystal.