The All Consuming-Self

Chapter 6: An Act of Desperation

The gruesome tableau of Lyra and Tessa's mutilated bodies left Zander and Kael standing utterly exposed amidst the rapidly growing throng of chittering goblins and snarling kobolds. The air, thick with the stench of blood and fear, vibrated with the presence of pure malice.

The Orc King, its massive chest heaving with a chilling amusement, let out a series of guttural, mocking laughs that echoed through the cavern, each resonant sound a hammer blow to Zander’s dwindling sanity. Its cruel, intelligent eyes danced between the two remaining figures, savoring their palpable despair, assessing them like choice cuts of meat.

Kael, his face ashen and streaked with tears, his youthful body trembling uncontrollably, finally turned his wide, tear-filled eyes to Zander.

“Captain… what… what do we do?” His voice, raw with desperation, cracked and hitched, a desperate plea hanging in the blood-soaked air.

“You’re C-Rank… you must have some way… please, I don’t want to die!” The words were a plea for salvation, for the very lie Zander embodied.

A harsh, hysterical laugh bubbled up from Zander’s chest, a raw, ragged sound laced with utter disbelief and a creeping touch of madness. It escaped his lips before he could stop it, mingling with the metallic taste of fear in his mouth. Tears, hot and stinging, streamed down his face as he stared at the terrified Kael. “C-Rank? Me? A way out?” He choked on another wild, guttural laugh that was more sob than mirth.

“Kid, you have no idea.” The words were for Kael, but mostly for himself, a desperate acknowledgement of his pathetic, talentless reality.

How could this naive, foolish boy believe in his fabricated strength? Zander's mind screamed. How could he still cling to hope in a nobody like me, a talentless F-Rank who hadn’t even properly awakened, dreaming of escaping this nightmare? A wave of profound self-loathing washed over him, quickly followed by a surge of bitter rage. He cursed his rotten luck, cursed the very system that made him a fraud, cursed his own stupid decision to take this accursed quest, to gamble with lives, including his own.

His mind raced, a frantic hamster wheel of impossible scenarios, each one ending in his gruesome death. Escape was a fool’s errand, a delusional fantasy. Yet… a desperate, selfish, utterly cold-blooded idea began to form in the murky depths of his panic, a vile seed sprouting in the fertile ground of his fear. It was abhorrent, but it was a way.

He dragged the back of his hand across his face, wiping away the tears and sweat, forcing a semblance of grim resolve onto his features. His jaw clenched, muscles aching with the effort.

“Sparkplug,” he said, his voice surprisingly steady, despite the frantic hammering of his heart against his ribs. “I… I have a plan. A way for us to get out of this.” Us, he emphasized, letting the blatant, insidious lie hang in the air, already forming on his tongue, a poisonous promise.

Kael’s eyes, wide with despair just moments before, widened further, a flicker of desperate hope igniting in their depths, blazing like a tiny, fragile flame in the engulfing darkness. “Really? What is it, Captain?” His voice, though still trembling, held a renewed, desperate urgency.

“I need time,” Zander said, his gaze fixed on the gargantuan Orc King, his mind now coldly calculating. “I have a powerful… ability. Something that can even injure that overgrown brute. But it requires a… a lengthy incantation. You need to buy me that time, Kael. Shield me.” The words tasted like bile in his mouth, a bitter admission of the monstrous act he was about to commit.

The sheer, breathtaking audacity of the lie almost choked him. Even a legion of real C-Ranks, even a squad of seasoned B-Ranks, would struggle against that towering, level 350 abomination. Yet Kael, desperate for salvation, for any anchor in the storm of terror, seized onto the flimsy lifeline Zander offered. His young face, still bearing the marks of childhood, hardened with a desperate, self-sacrificing determination.

“I… I can do that! I’ll protect you, Captain!” Kael’s hands crackled with renewed, erratic energy, arcs of lightning dancing between his fingers, illuminating his terrified but resolute face. He took a staggering step forward, facing the encroaching horde of goblins and kobolds, and beyond them, the looming, blood-soaked figure of the Orc King. He was prepared to die for Zander’s lie.

“That’s it, Sparkplug! Now, stall them! Every second counts!” Zander's voice boomed with a renewed, false bravado, perfectly masking the cold dread gripping him. He began to mouth gibberish, a string of nonsensical syllables punctuated by dramatic, sweeping gestures that were utterly meaningless but visually commanding. “By the celestial fires… by the ancient winds… by the power of the forgotten gods of… of sparkly things!” His hands moved with an almost frenetic energy, creating a spectacle.

As he “chanted,” his right hand subtly, meticulously, reached into a pouch hidden beneath his stolen jacket, his fingers trembling almost imperceptibly with a mixture of fear and adrenaline. His fingers closed around a small, smooth container filled with iridescent glitter – fine, sparkling dust that caught the dim dungeon light. Next to it, a tiny, battery-powered light, no bigger than his thumb, with rotating color filters, a cheap trinket he’d impulsively bought online for some forgotten con, waited. With a dramatic flourish, he scattered the glitter into the air, simultaneously activating the light and directing its shimmering beams through the falling particles. The effect was surprisingly convincing – a swirling vortex of multi-colored light, ethereal and mesmerizing, that seemed to gather and pulse around him, creating an aura of immense, arcane power.

Kael’s eyes widened in awe, reflecting the dazzling, impossible light show. “Amazing… Captain, you’re incredible!” Hope, pure and naive, surged through him, washing over his features like a cleansing wave. He was mesmerized, completely bought into the illusion. “Thank you, Captain! Thank you for everything!” His gratitude was heartbreakingly genuine, a dagger twisting in Zander’s gut.

Zander offered a tight, insincere smile, his lips pulled back in a rictus that barely resembled genuine warmth. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic, sickening drumbeat, caught between paralyzing fear and a chilling sense of triumph. He reached the dramatic climax of his fake incantation, throwing his arms wide, the light effect intensifying around him, and bellowing with all the force his lungs could muster,

“ARMAGEDDON!”

As the final, reverberating syllable echoed through the cavern, Kael beamed at him, relief flooding his face, his young eyes shining with absolute faith. Zander returned the smile, his eyes, however, flickering with cold calculation to a small, cylindrical object lying partially obscured near his foot – a heavily modified grenade he’d purchased with a significant chunk of his ill-gotten gains, a true last resort for dire emergencies.

Recognition, cold and stark, dawned in Kael’s eyes as he followed Zander’s subtle gaze. The beautiful, hopeful smile vanished from his face, replaced by a dawning horror that twisted his features into a mask of utter betrayal. A chilling understanding of Zander’s true nature, of the cold, calculated treachery, flooded his mind. “You… you fu—”

Before he could finish the curse, before the word could fully leave his lips, Zander snatched the grenade, his fingers closing around its rough casing. With a swift, practiced yank, he tore the pin free and hurled the cylindrical object with all his might towards the massed goblins and kobolds, directly at Kael’s feet. BOOM! A deafening explosion ripped through the chamber, a blinding concussive force that threw debris and bodies, both monstrous and human, flying through the air. A blinding flash of white light momentarily illuminated the utter chaos, burning itself into Zander’s retinas.

Zander didn’t wait to see the carnage, didn't spare a single glance for Kael. He spun on his heel and sprinted towards the far side of the cavern, his legs pumping like pistons, driving him forward with desperate, raw power. He risked a quick glance back, catching Kael’s horrified, betrayed expression, frozen in time, before the swirling light and choking smoke obscured him completely. As he ran, his hand instinctively shot up, a crude middle finger flicking defiantly into the swirling dust in Kael’s direction, a final, contemptuous farewell to his unwitting sacrifice.

“YOU FUCKERSSSSSS!” Kael’s anguished cry, filled with the raw agony of betrayal and approaching death, was abruptly cut short by the concussive force of the blast, swallowed by the roaring explosion.

Zander ran with every ounce of strength he possessed, a manic, desperate grin plastered on his face, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He’d done it. He’d actually done it. He’d used the Sparkplug as a shield, a distraction, a sacrifice. He might just get out of this alive after all. The thought filled him with a dark, unsettling exhilaration.

But as he fled, driven by his singular, selfish goal, he failed to notice the massive shadow that detached itself from the swirling smoke and debris behind him, moving with terrifying, silent speed. It was not impeded by the blast; merely momentarily inconvenienced. The Orc King, far from being injured, was now filled with a cold, predatory fury, its gaze fixed squarely on Zander’s rapidly retreating form. The real impending doom was still very much at his heels, closer than he knew.