Afterwave

I found myself facedown in some kind of brown sludge. Quietly, I laid there for a moment, struggling to summon the willpower to rise… to face the inevitable new torture that awaited me. Silently, I wondered what would happen if I just chose to stay here and allow the illusion to end. However, before I could seriously ponder such a course of action, a thundering voice tinged with undertones of panic pierced my ears.

"All of you, get up! Come on, someone! You-you can't all be dead, right?"

Grimacing, I struggled to my feet, feeling oddly… weak. The aggravating person shouted once more, "Oh, you're still alive! Great, great, let me give you a hand!"

A few seconds later, I felt a strong force grip me by the back of whatever I was wearing and pull me to my feet. I found myself staring into the face of a rugged man with what seemed like a strange mask covering half of his face. Abruptly, the force holding me up fell away, and I stumbled as my legs nearly gave way beneath me. 

Gods, I was weak.

When I regained my ability to stand, he looked at me with some concern. At this point, I was able to properly observe my savior(?): a tall, burly man, who seemed to be lightly wounded; tiny cuts were littered over his skin, though he seemed unaffected by them. He bore no visible weapons save for a pair of bladed knuckle-dusters.

He must have seen the surprise on my face, because he chuckled awkwardly and said in that booming voice, "I'm a boxer and don't know swordplay, but with the war and all, I can hardly stay away from the frontlines, y'know? Especially when I've a good aptitude."

As I was trying to process his words, especially through the thick, somewhat slurred accent, an invisible wave of something seemed to pass through me. Everything in my field of vision turned gray for an instant as I dropped to my knees. It felt as if my insides had turned inside out… or maybe like they had gone through a high-speed blender. Needless to say, I lost the contents of my stomach and spent a few seconds retching on the floor before the sensation passed.

My newfound friend, the obnoxious shouter, was strangely silent for once. He was not looking at me, but far away to his left, as if gazing at a place I could not see. In his gaze, I could see shock, horror, and most of all, a terrible fear.

I staggered to my feet and followed his sight, but could see nothing beyond an endless plain of corpses and blood. Hoarsely, I asked, "What- What was that?"

He snapped out of his daze and stared grimly at me. 

"You felt it too? I'm surprised… judging by your reaction, your aptitude ain't low either. Thought I knew most of the big names - say, how'd they just leave you here for dead?" he replied in a much more understandable accent. Unfortunately, his words had only gotten more and more unfathomable.

Before I could ask him what he meant, he turned back to the direction he had been looking. After a moment, he answered my question.

"That… that's what happens when two spells of great power collide. One of them should've been General Arthur's Divine Judgement spell. Surprised you didn't sense it, to be honest. But what's more important is that someone - or something - could use a spell strong enough to cancel it out… and I think I sense a hint of demonic power in the afterwave."