Path of the Forsaken Sigil

Chapter 19

Before Bruce could take a single step, a terrible sound ripped through the cavern. 

WROOOOOOOOM!

It was a loud, grating horn. It sounded like a dying beast. The sound bounced off the stone walls, shaking the floor. 

The destruction of the massive wrought-iron doors had finally registered on the catacombs' magical alarm system. 

Suddenly, the dim, gray crystals on the ceiling turned bright, bloody red. The entire cavern was flooded with flashing red emergency lights. The red fog on the floor began to swirl violently. 

"Intruder!" a voice boomed over a magical speaker system. "Sector Four breached! Protect the harvest! Kill the intruder!"

Bruce spun around, looking for the source of the voice. 

Along the far walls of the cavern, large stone doors began to slide open. Heavy boots stomped loudly on the stone floor, marching in perfect rhythm. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

A dozen men marched out of the shadows and stepped into the flashing red light. 

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. He had lived in the Iron-Heart Estate his whole life. He knew every guard, every soldier, and every knight in the clan. 

But he had never seen these men before. 

These were the Dungeon Guards. They were the clan's secret executioners. They never saw the sun. They lived down here in the dark, guarding the battery farm and making sure the captives never escaped. 

The Dungeon Guards were terrifying to look at. They were massive men, standing over six feet tall. They wore heavy, thick black armor covered in sharp iron spikes. Their faces were completely hidden behind iron helmets shaped like screaming, hollow skulls. 

But the scariest part about them was their weapons. 

They carried huge weapons. Giant broadswords, heavy battle axes, and spiked chains. And every single weapon was blazing with wild, unstable elemental magic. 

One guard held a sword wrapped in roaring red flames. Another swung a chain made of jagged, freezing blue ice. 

But as Bruce looked closer with his True Sight, he realized the magic was wrong. It did not look natural. It did not look like the respectful magic of a normal sorcerer. It looked forced. It looked sick. 

Bruce noticed thick, black rubber tubes connecting the guards' heavy weapons directly into the backs of their armor. 

"They are plugged in," Bruce realized, his stomach twisting in disgust. 

"Yes, Master," the Seraph confirmed. "They do not have their own magic. They are using portable siphon-packs. They are drawing energy directly from the main network. Every time they swing their weapons, they are burning the souls of the people in these vats."

Bruce felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. 

The dozen Dungeon Guards formed a tight semi-circle, cutting off Bruce's path to the center platform. They raised their glowing, elemental weapons. The heat of the fire and the crackle of lightning filled the air. 

A giant man stepped forward to lead them. He was the Captain of the Dungeon Guards. He was seven feet tall, wearing extra-thick spiked armor. He carried a massive steel war hammer. 

The Captain pressed a button on the handle of his hammer. Green lightning erupted from the head of the weapon, sparking and hissing in the damp air. The green lightning matched the color of the liquid in the vats perfectly. 

"You should not have come down here, boy," the Captain said. His voice was deep and distorted by his screaming skull mask. "The Matriarch said you were a pest. A little rat who got lucky. We kill rats down here every day."

Bruce summoned his Blade of Lost Tears again. The dark smoke wrapped around his hand. He stood tall, keeping himself between the guards and the vat holding Martha. 

"You are cowards," Bruce yelled over the sound of the cracking lightning. "You wear big armor, but you use the magic of old women and children! You are nothing!"

The Captain laughed. It was a cruel, metallic sound. 

"We are power," the Captain said. "And power does not care where it comes from."

High up on the central obsidian platform, Lady Hestia finally stood up. Her beautiful face was bruised, and a line of blood ran down her chin, but she was smiling. She looked down at Bruce, completely safe behind the line of her elite executioners. 

"Do you see now, Bruce?" Hestia's voice boomed, echoing across the massive room. "Do you see the truth of the world? We are the Iron-Hearts because we do what is necessary! Your mother understood that her sacrifice made us strong. And now, you will join her. You will become fuel for my empire!"

Hestia raised her hand and pointed a long, manicured finger at Bruce. 

"Guards," Hestia commanded. "Break his legs. Shatter his arms. But leave his mana core intact. I want to put him in a vat right next to his mother!"

"Yes, Matriarch!" the guards shouted in unison. 

The Captain of the guards stepped forward. He raised his massive hammer high above his head. The green lightning on the hammer flared intensely. 

But Bruce noticed something horrifying. 

As the Captain charged up his weapon, Bruce saw the tubes connected to the nearby vats suddenly glow brighter. The green liquid inside the tanks began to bubble violently. 

Bruce looked at the vat next to him. Inside, the young farmer's face twisted in pain, even though he was asleep. The tube in his chest flashed with bright light. 

The Captain was pulling energy directly from the captives right in front of Bruce to power his attack. 

"If I block his attack, it forces him to draw more power," Bruce realized in a panic. "If I dodge and let him keep swinging, he will drain these people dry just to fight me."

Bruce was trapped. He had the power to fight. He had the Ashen Seraph ready to unleash hell. He had the Devour skill to eat their magic. But he could not use it. 

If he fought back with full force, the sudden clash of magic would demand more energy from the network. The Dungeon Guards would act like black holes, sucking the life out of Martha, the little girl, and the hundreds of innocent people trapped in the glass forest. 

Killing the guards would kill the captives. 

"What do we do?" Bruce whispered frantically to the Seraph. 

The Captain brought the heavy hammer down, unleashing a massive wave of crackling green lightning straight toward Bruce's chest. 

Bruce gritted his teeth, raising his arms to shield himself, totally unsure of how to protect himself without killing the very people he came to save.