Part 10 – The Devil’s Gambit

In his dark fortress, the Warlord Xarthos looked upon his creation. The Null-Harmonizer rifle was a masterpiece of physics and cruelty, the culmination of weeks of obsessive work. But a theory, however perfect, required practical application. He needed to test it on his subject, and he needed to do so in a controlled environment, far from the prying eyes and interfering armies of Lemuria. He needed to lure the Angel into a cage of her own making.

His scouts soon provided the perfect bait. The Lemurian medical transport ship, the Starlight Healer, was on a return course from a southern garrison, carrying soldiers wounded in the Battle of Aethel. It was lightly armed, its flight path predictable. Xarthos’s attack was swift and brutal. His advanced Hoard fighters disabled the ship’s engines, and his warriors boarded it, taking the crew and their wounded charges prisoner.

That evening, a priority message was sent directly to the Grand Council of Eldoria. It was from Xarthos.

The image that appeared on the main screen in the Council chamber was of the captured Starlight Healer, resting precariously in the crumbling, ancient ruins atop the highest peak of the Dragon’s Tooth mountains.

Xarthos’s voice followed, cold and precise. “Your wounded heroes are my prisoners. The ship’s power core has been modified. It will overload in exactly two hours. If an army approaches, I will detonate it immediately. If no one comes, they will die in the explosion. Your only option is to send your ‘Angel’. She comes alone to evacuate your soldiers. Her life, for theirs. The choice is yours.”

The chamber erupted into chaos.

“It’s an obvious trap!” General Kaelen roared. “We cannot sacrifice our greatest weapon for a handful of wounded men! It is a foolish, sentimental error!”

Sheral, who had been summoned to the chamber, stepped forward. Her voice was quiet, but it cut through the General’s fury. “They are not just ‘wounded men’,” she said, her gaze steady. “They are soldiers who fought and bled for this city. I will not let them die.”

“Child, you do not understand the strategic implications…” Elder Valerius began.

“I understand perfectly,” she interrupted, her voice ringing with an authority that silenced him. “If this power is to mean anything, it must be used to save lives. That is not a sentiment. It is my duty.” She looked at the Council, her decision absolute. “I will go.”

She flew alone towards the Dragon’s Tooth mountains, a single crimson speck against a bruised twilight sky. This time, she flew not with fear, but with the righteous, soaring confidence of a proven champion. She arrived at the crumbling ruins, her soft red boots making no sound on the cracked stone. Her posture was one of absolute power, her magnificent body a breathtaking sculpture of divine strength. She scanned the ship, her sharp eyes detecting the subtle shimmer of a holographic projection.

A figure stepped from the shadows. It was Xarthos, clad in a sleek suit of midnight-black armor.

“Your games are over, Xarthos,” Sheral’s voice rang out. “Release the soldiers. Your insane crusade ends tonight.”

Xarthos gave a thin, condescending smile. “Soldiers? Oh, my dear Angel, there are no soldiers here.” With a wave of his hand, the image of the medical ship flickered and vanished, revealing nothing but empty, crumbling stone. “There is only you. And me. You walked into my laboratory all on your own.”

He raised a standard plasma rifle. Sheral actually laughed. “That? Do you truly think a toy like that can harm me?”

“You are correct,” Xarthos said, dropping the plasma rifle. From behind his back, he produced the massive, two-handed Null-Harmonizer. “I did not come to fight you with fire. I came to fight you with mathematics.”

Before her confident smirk could fade, he raised the rifle and fired.

The shimmering, silent wave of blue-black energy struck her square in the chest. The world shattered. Her invulnerability dissolved. Her strength vanished. She crashed to the hard stone ground with a choked cry of pain and disbelief.

“Fascinating,” Xarthos said, walking towards her. He stood over her and, with a vicious kick, sent her tumbling across the stone. The impact was a brutal, shocking agony.

“This is what it feels like to be mortal, Angel,” he lectured. “Welcome to it.”

Slowly, agonizingly, she felt a trickle of her power returning. With a defiant roar, she forced herself to her feet and, in a desperate, enraged lunge, she landed a powerful blow that sent him staggering back.

He just smiled. “Remarkable.” He raised the rifle again and fired.

The second blast hit her, and she plummeted to the ground. This time, his beating was more savage. “Feel that?” he hissed, grabbing her by the hair. “That is the terror of helplessness. Do you feel how your legendary legs can barely hold you? How your divine muscles scream with exhaustion?”

The battle became a horrifying, brutal cycle. She would begin to recover, lashing out with a desperate fury, her powerful, beautiful form now covered in dirt, blood, and bruises. But just as she seemed to gain an advantage, he would step back, raise the Null-Harmonizer, and fire, sending her crashing back down into a world of powerless agony.

After what felt like an eternity, she pulled herself to her feet one last time, her legendary legs trembling uncontrollably. She let out a final, desperate battle cry and charged. He sidestepped her clumsy lunge and fired the Null-Harmonizer at point-blank range. The final blast plunged her into darkness. She collapsed to the stone, a broken, unconscious angel.

Xarthos stood over her, victorious. A squad of his hulking barbarian soldiers emerged from the shadows.

“Not so powerful now,” one of the barbarians grunted, nudging her bare leg with his boot.

“Just a little girl, after all,” another sneered.

Xarthos knelt beside her unconscious form. She was a tragic, beautiful sight, her perfect athletic body utterly still, her flawless face marred by a trickle of blood. He threaded his armored fingers into her hair, lifting her head like a trophy.

“You see?” he said to his men. “This is the true Angel. Beaten. Broken. Nothing.” He let her head drop back to the stone with a sickening thud. He stood up, his gaze cold and calculating. “Secure her. Take her to the laboratory.”

He looked down at the unconscious, battered form of the Angel of Lemuria one last time.

“Now,” he said, a chilling excitement in his voice. “The real experiment begins.”