Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave was the only one who could stop Sataistador.

That wasn’t a grandiosity complex, merely the facts of the situation. Argrave should’ve put some of the pieces together when he saw Governor Ji Meng tear his own rib out to make the array that warded away divinity. The governor was dead now, unfortunately, but at least he got to see his granddaughter’s wedding.

Regardless, the Stormfield was shamanic magic, true enough. But it was more than that. It was blood magic.

“Thief god, space god, I need you to defend me from Sataistador. He’s quiet enough now, but in a few moments, everything inside and outside the Palace of Heaven is going to become a warzone as his little soldiers show their face. Almazora, I need you to amplify the power of the blood in my body. And Anneliese… I need you to keep me alive.”

He spoke only the names he had verified in Erlebnis’ wiki. Except Anneliese, that is. He would never confuse her with another. Unless he was, which would be rather embarrassing.

“What are you talking about?” Anneliese questioned as Argrave looked upon Sataistador, who still kneeled bleeding.

“Why should we take orders from the man with a crooked face?” Space god questioned—he thought the name was Raccomen, but he couldn’t be sure.

Argrave ran his hand over his face. Was it crooked? He thought he’d put it back on right. He dropped his hand down and pointed. “You’re talking to me about being crooked, after that stunt you pulled? Listen, tomorrow I can be straight, but you’ll be dead forever if you don’t shut up and suit up. I promise I can explain everything after this is over.” Argrave conjured a dagger of blood magic, then walked out onto the glass cover of the Stormfield and kneeled. “I learned some things. Just do as I say, or this whole continent is going to fall into chaos.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sataistador gurgled, looking at Argrave as smoke billowed all around him. He seemed like an erupting volcano, wreathed in smoke while his neck erupted with blood. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”

But in the smoke, figures danced—figures eerily similar to the god of war. The army, it would seem, was on the march. The first wave of soldiers was soon to arrive.

Argrave rolled up his right sleeve. “Almazora—do your part. Empower my blood. I know you can do that—I read all about it.”

goddess of magic walked up behind him, kneeling. “I trust your intentions, but what you’re asking… it could kill you, even with

him unless you lend me some of your power. So, do it,” he commanded

hand on the back of his head… and in a

held up, then slit both of his wrists. These weren’t attention-getting cuts from a teenager, either—he committed, starting the incision at the bottom

laughed, and Argrave lifted his head as his black blood poured across the glass plate on the floor. He met the god of

desperately trying to kill you. It looks like he broke his word, blabbed about my intentions to you. But even still… we’ll meet on the

through the pain, “I’m counting

Maybe it was blood loss. Maybe it was his Erlebnisitis. But when the darkness rose to take him, he heard the distant call of

going to the Stormfield. There, the god

#####

able to talk the man back from the ledge, so to speak. But then, perhaps he wouldn’t have. There was no point in worrying about hypotheticals, especially not when what he

been illicitly lifted; should you

of the Great Chu. His blood alongside his

Sacrifice.

Heaven. Frankly… he hadn’t. In another time, during another cycle, Sataistador had overcome the same odds that Argrave had. He breached the walls of the fortress, and was going to enter triumphantly. Before he could, the Emperor of the Great Chu at the time disemboweled himself just above the Stormfield. The death of one mortal man was sufficient to empower the

obsession over the Great Chu, and doubly over the weapon that had caused his defeat. Every cycle, he had tried in one way or another to dismantle the empire—to tear it apart, piece by piece. Sometimes it fragmented, sometimes it fell into civil war… but it never truly ceased to exist, and the Palace of Heaven never truly fell. Until now, that is. Now, Sataistador had used a trick to commandeer the weapon that had defeated him

followed

Argrave had been consumed by darkness, the harsh bark of thunder jolted his eyes open, and he turned his head around frantically. He spotted an axe soaring through the air, headed right for him. Argrave instinctively sent out a blood echo and teleported, and

Lightning bore down everywhere, followed a few seconds after by the sound of thunder. “Following me here. I’m going to give you some praise, Argrave. You’re a soldier I’d have loved to have on my side, back in the day. Stone cold,

places to hide. Just from the context of the situation, Argrave suspected that it was the Stormfield. The few crevices Argrave saw weren’t large enough to hide one of the many soldiers in Sataistador’s army.

the darkness, then cast some magic right into the back of Sataistador’s head. The lone soldier’s head blew clean off in a burst of flame,