THE CRIMSON PANTHEON

Chapter 4

The Abyssal Troll did not care that Ronan was glowing. It did not care that the broken human had just crushed its foot. The monster only knew anger, pain, and a wild desire to turn this glowing man into a red stain on the mud.

The ground shook as the Troll planted its good foot and lunged forward. It threw its entire massive body weight into a single, devastating punch. Its fist was the size of a large boulder, covered in thick, grey skin and sharp, bony spikes. The punch moved through the air with a loud whoosh, aimed directly at the center of Ronan’s chest.

A normal man would have been torn to shreds. A normal man would not have even seen the fist coming.

But Ronan was no longer just a man.

He stood his ground. He did not dodge. He did not step back. His eyes, burning with a blinding golden fire, tracked the giant fist as if it were moving in slow motion.

With an unnatural, terrifying grace, Ronan raised his left hand.

BANG!

The sound of the impact was like a cannon firing. A shockwave of air exploded outward, blowing away the rain, the ash, and the mud in a wide circle around them.

Ronan caught the giant fist in the palm of his hand.

He did not slide backward. His feet were planted firmly in the broken earth. His fingers dug deeply into the thick, leathery skin of the Troll’s knuckles. The monster let out a confused, wet grunt. It tried to pull its hand back, but it was trapped. Ronan’s grip was like a vice made of solid steel.

Ronan looked up at the giant beast. He felt an incredible, buzzing energy rushing through his muscles. It was the power of a god. It was the power to destroy anything in his path. He squeezed his hand tighter, ready to shatter the monster's arm into a thousand pieces.

But then, a sharp, terrible pain ripped through his body.

Ronan gasped. The golden fire in his eyes flickered violently. He looked down at his arm.

Underneath his skin, his veins were glowing. They shone with a bright, angry yellow light, looking like rivers of liquid lava. The light grew brighter and brighter until the skin of his forearm began to crack.

Sizzle.

Golden smoke leaked out of the cracks in his flesh. The heat was unbearable. It felt as if he had swallowed a star, and now that star was trying to explode out of his body. His mortal shell, made of weak human flesh and bone, could not hold the raw, infinite energy of the Divine Seed.

"Foolish boy," the ancient, seductive voice echoed in his mind. It sounded both amused and urgent. "I warned you. My power is too great for a lonely vessel. You are burning from the inside out. Your flesh is tearing. In thirty seconds, you will explode into golden ash."

Ronan stumbled backward, letting go of the Troll’s fist. He fell to one knee, gripping his own arm. The glowing cracks were spreading. They moved up his shoulder, across his chest, and toward his neck. The pain was worse than when the Troll had crushed his ribs. This was the pain of his soul catching on fire.

"You need a Chalice!" the Voice commanded, no longer sounding amused. "You need an anchor! Bind the dying flame to ignite your divinity, or die right now!"

Ronan forced his glowing eyes to look across the ruined courtyard.

Through the smoke and the chaos, he saw Olivia. She was still lying motionless against the broken marble pillar. Her silver hair was covered in dark soot. Around her, the small, nasty Scavenger demons were creeping closer. They were clicking their sharp teeth, ready to tear into her helpless body.

Ronan gritted his teeth. He ignored the burning agony tearing through his veins. He had not accepted the curse of a savage god just to die a few seconds later.

"Get away from her!" Ronan roared.

His voice did not sound human. It boomed across the courtyard, deep and layered with a strange, echoing power.

He pushed off the ground.

He moved so fast that the world seemed to blur. To the demons, Ronan was nothing but a streak of golden lightning cutting through the dark night. He crossed the fifty feet of the courtyard in less than a single heartbeat.

He crashed into the group of Scavengers like a meteor. He didn't even use his hands. The pure, explosive force of his movement slammed into the small demons, shattering their bodies instantly. Black blood rained down on the broken stones.

Ronan slid to a stop right next to Olivia. He fell to his knees beside her.

Her face was pale, almost gray. A thin line of blood ran down from her forehead. Her chest was barely moving. The magical fire that usually danced around her body was completely gone. She was dying.

"Olivia," Ronan whispered. His voice trembled.

He reached out to touch her face, but he stopped himself. His hand was glowing so brightly, and the heat radiating from his skin was intense enough to melt stone. He was afraid he would burn her.

The Abyssal Troll roared in the distance. It had recovered from its shock. It picked up its massive stone club again and began to charge across the courtyard. The ground thumped wildly. More demons were pouring out of the shadows, drawn by the bright golden light and the smell of blood.

There were too many. And Ronan was falling apart. The cracks on his chest widened, leaking bright streams of golden fire.

"Run, little vessel," the Voice urged. "Find shelter. Complete the Covenant, or you will take her to the grave with you."

Ronan knew there was an old, heavy iron door at the back of the sanctuary. It led down into the ancient crypts, where the old priests buried their dead. It was the only place with walls thick enough to hold off the monsters for a few minutes.