Blood Mage

Charon shivered as he stuck his arm out, signaling them to stop.

Emerius, the first to notice, loudly spoke his confusion.

"What's wr-"

He didn't finish his sentence before Charon had stepped up to him and clamped his mouth shut. 

With his other hand, he extended his sword, blocking the others with its bladed edge.

That got everyone's attention, as eight sets of eyes stared at him, some hostile, and some worried.

Calming himself just a fraction, Charon leaned forward, making sure to whisper.

"There is someone… something… in the next room. They feel different, in a bad way. I think it's some kind of beast."

The six soldiers who had followed Emerius looked at Charon like he was insane, while Emerius and the priest shared a similar look of seriousness.

Removing his hand from the tall soldier's mouth, he waited to see how they would respond.

"Sensed, as in your ability?"

All Charon did was nod, hoping that Emerius would trust him. If he did, the others would.

A moment passed before the priest finally spoke.

"It changes nothing. If there truly is someone in there, we will deal with them. If they prove greater than the rest of us, you have your orders."

Without pausing for a response, the priest pushed past Charon and entered the room, the whisps of dark smoke growing more powerful with each step until the man appeared to be more fog than human.

'Why couldn't I have gotten an ability like that?'

With a sour expression, he followed a few feet behind, his sword drawn and at the ready for whatever he sensed.

Turning to face it the moment he passed the doorway, he was surprised to see nothing more than a regular man meditating on the floor, his eyes closed.

He had short brown hair and a clean-shaven face. His features were sharp, but not quite handsome, leaving him somewhere in the middle. He wore a scarlet tunic and a nondescript pair of tan pants, but lacked any armor, leaving him extraordinarily civilian for a war zone.

'If not for the incredibly potent energy he is giving off, I would've assumed he was a groundskeeper of some kind.'

Everyone else seemed to be equally confused, glancing at each other with bewilderment.

All but the priest, whose mouth had dropped in horror, his legs rooted and hands held up defensively. 

The shadows around him twisted and bent, creating sharp tendrils ready to spear up into the strange man.

Only once the shadows inched closer did the man's eyes flutter open, revealing blood-red irises. His mouth opened to reveal a wide grin of white teeth, the action coming across as predatory rather than disarming.

'Who the hell is this guy?'

The man slowly rose to his feet, his focus never once leaving their group. He then spoke, his tone one of friendliness.

"Welcome, chosen of the Dark One. I see that you have breached the fortress walls, far sooner than anticipated as well."

He pointed up, causing the priest to twitch despite the harmlessness of the gesture.

"You see, I had argued with the captain in charge of our forces to allow proper creatures of the Blood Realms to be summoned, but he thought Blood Spawn would be enough."

He tutted disapprovingly and rolled his eyes.

"It appears I was right. A pity, given that losing the regiment will force me to wait for reinforcements rather than counter-attack whatever garrison you left in the towns at the base of this hill."

His eyes then locked onto each of theirs, going from one person to the next.

"However, it has also provided me the circumstances required to let loose. I am so rarely let off my leash, each moment must be savored."

He then began to approach them, each step methodically placed in front of the last.

"I thank you all for this, truly. I know we have been placed on opposite sides in this twisting of fate, but you are here for a purpose."

He spread his arms wide, droplets of blood seeping from his palms.

'What kind of abilities does this guy have?'

"That purpose is to be a test, a trial sent to see if I am fit to sit on the Blood Monger's council! To prove that I am able to not only be a weapon of destruction, but of defense as well, selflessly holding the line to safeguard an artifact greatly treasured by our future Archon!"

His grin returned, his teeth now stained a dark red.

"I do hope you give me a good fight. Impress me, slaves of Death, and I shall end your miserable existence quickly. Rejoice, for you will enter your god's kingdom today."

The priest, having said or done nothing during the entire interaction, slowly craned his head to face them, speaking in a tone so dire it sent shivers down Charon's spine.

"Remember the mission. Do not forget the mission. Even if I die, you are to retrieve the artifact!"

Charon dragged his gaze from the threatening man to look at the priest, locking eyes with him and gesturing to the opposite side of the room.

Sparing a single glance, he saw another doorway, this one leading to another room.

'That must be where the artifact is!'

The man chuckled, the sound cruel.

"Please, do not give me such little credit! They will not live long enough to see the item, let alone obtain it. You are all going to die here, your bodies drained of blood to be an offering to The Bloodfather!"

Before anything else could be said, the priest exploded into action, dozens of shadows bursting from the floor to create long spears.

The other seven soldiers charged forward, their blades ready to strike.

Charon, instead, stepped back, moving to go for the artifact.

'I'm not a coward, I'm just following orders! I'm a good soldier, nothing else!'

The sound of a sick crunch followed by screaming was all the motivation he needed to run as fast as he could.

'Gods, please let that be that freak's scream!'

A body was sent flying, landing only a few feet away from Charon. It exploded on impact, all its vital fluid bursting out and arcing back towards where it had come from.

The black tunic informed him of the corpse's loyalties.

'Screw that!'

It only took him a few seconds to reach the doorway, but by then the sounds of battle had already decreased dramatically, making him think multiple men had died.

'I hope Emerius is doing okay.'

Even with the wishful thinking, he knew it was pointless. They were clearly outmatched, even the priest had thought so.

Just before Charon passed into the next room, a blood-red vine smashed into the stone in front of him, sending rocks flying.

Skidding to a halt and scrambling back, he looked over his shoulder only to see dozens of similar tendrils extending from the body of the crazed man. 

His face was split in an impossibly wide smile as his extremities whipped through the air, attacking the last three men standing, one of whom was the priest.

Frozen in fear, Charon could only watch as another scarlet vine shot toward him.

Right as it was about to connect with his chest, the shadows around him coalesced into a small shield, protecting him from the strike.

Charon snapped out of his daze, swinging his sword to try and cut the tendril still lodged in the doorway, only managing a shallow furrow in the dense material.

'Isn't this supposed to be made of blood? What kind of blood is this dense!'

He managed a couple more blows before being forced to leap out of the way again, throwing himself into a roll, and coming up a few feet away.

His eyes widened as he realized how open he was to attacks now, a fact his opponent also seemed to realize.

'Crap!'

Three more tendrils shot toward him, their speed too great to dodge all at once.

As if sent by the gods, the priest interceded once more, summoning dozens of shadowy spears to intercept the vines.

They lanced up into the vile creations, spilling gallons of vital fluid onto the stone floors.

"Go!" The priest bellowed, blood dripping down his robes.

Sparing not another second, Charon ran back to the original tendril and put all his strength into another strike, finally managing to cut through the vine with a sick snapping sound.

Blood gushed from the writhing appendage, dousing Charon in the crimson liquid.

Covering his mouth with his unarmed hand to not puke, he spared only a single glance back at the priest.

The robed figure was locked in fierce combat with the monster assaulting him, shadows meeting blood in a dance of black and red. 

Despite his best efforts, Charon knew that the priest was losing, too many tendrils avoiding his defenses and slashing nasty wounds.

Remembering the orders he had been given, he turned away for the last time, passing under the doorway with a sigh.

'Good luck, priest, may Death aid you.'