Bloodlines of the Ancient Pantheons

Chapter 231: CCXXXI. The Trap

Exactly at that instant, seconds before he was hit, while standing still in the same position, Dag looked down, closing his eyes: 

"The things worth living for" he said. 

Gridd was able to hear those words and suddenly felt a pain in her heart and stomach, which caused her to lose her breath, while her brother was about to die before his eyes.

"Captain!" 

Reidar also couldn't hold back a scream when the hundreds of arrows hit Dag's shot, piercing him on each side, on his neck, shoulders, back, legs.

The arrows continued to fall and he knelt down, unable to stand up. 

"It's not possible, it's not possible!" shouted Reidar, who, caught in an endless rage, pulled out the Failnaught and began to shoot arrows everywhere, killing dozens of enemy warriors, until an arrow struck him on the shoulder, causing him to fall to the ground.

"Reidar! Fuck!" exclaimed Karl, who, noticing that his partner next to him had also been hit, dragged him away, sheltering behind a low stone wall near them.

"Gridd, get out of there! They've already hit Reidar! It's dangerous! We have to leave, or we're all going to die!" the young Healer continued, as he hurriedly pulled a healing potion from his leather box.

But she ignored her companion's words and stood still there, kneeling in the mud, just like her brother, who a few tens of meters in front of her was pierced by the last arrows left in the air, which hit him everywhere except on the head.

Gridd began to cry, sobbing, her hands open downwards, ready to sacrifice her life in honor of her brother, caught in a hint of deep sadness and a sense of frustration at not being able to help him in any way.

Dag spat blood, resting both hands on the ground, in front of him.

"Dag... Dag... there are things worth living for... get up and fight, my brother" Gridd whispered, crying profusely and failing to say anything else.

"Well, well... it was easier than expected! My lords! As promised, I, Sondre of the Horns Of Heimdallr, sacrifice this boy before you! Give me his powers, give me that incredible dark power that everyone is talking about!" shouted Sondre, opening his arms and turning his gaze to the sky, as the last drops of rain fell on his face, and the light of the torches behind him faintly illuminated the area.

"Where is... where is... Freydis...?" 

"Uhm?" 

Dag put his foot on the ground and a hand on his knee, hardly trying to get up.

"What?!" exclaimed Sondre, looking at his opponent, who he had not given up.

"Once again you're right, sister... I can't die now... I owe it to you, to Freydis and to them" Dag continued, looking at Karl and Reidar and referring to Gridd, in which hope was rekindled.

"Archers! Load more arrows and kill this useless bastard!" the magician yelled again as his men executed the commands.

Meanwhile, Dag managed to get up: the black liquid began to flow under his skin and flowing, it slowly lifted the metal tips of the arrows, which, one by one, detached from his body, falling to the ground.

"Fire! Hit him! Now!" shouted Sondre, ordering his men to attack.

But nothing happened: the enemy warriors were enchanted by that scene, of a young boy who had just survived more than 80 arrows embedded in his body, who was regenerating his wounds.

Under Gridd's hopeful gaze, all the arrows fell to the ground and the dark fluid, flowing above the wounds, healed them, leaving not even a scar.

"Shoot those damn arrows, useless sons of bitches!" continued Sondre, pointing his stick at Dag, who opened his eyes to him, revealing his purple eye so bright that he left an ethereal trail that followed the movements of his head. 

The enemy archers tried to aim quickly and furiously, when, suddenly, from Dag's back a huge beam of fluid splattered backward towards them.

"Aaaagh!" 

A scream broke the silence again, triggering panic among the enemies when the fluid created by Dag's body and connected to his back had just impaled one of their allies, who was slumped on the roof of his hut, devoid of life in a pool of blood.

In less than a second, the liquid, which had hardened at its end, becoming a real blade, was extracted from the archer's body and hit another, a few meters away, also killing him instantly.

"Fuck!" 

"Help!" 

The other enemy warriors continued to agitate and started to scream, fearing they would die one by one under the infallible blows of that dark substance, whose nature they could not explain.

In fact, immediately after killing the second archer, another bundle of fluid splattered away from Dag's back, simultaneously hitting two enemies on the other side, one of which, before he died, struck the dark substance, trying unnecessarily to cut it.

"Where's Freydis...?!" said Dag again, for the third time, looking into Sondre's eyes, who could not hide his fear.

"Bloody cowards! You're just useless scum, you're not worthy of being part of the Clan! Now you'll answer to me, kid!" he yelled, criticizing the archers, who took refuge back inside the huts, to avoid dying like flies crushed on the wall.

Soon after, Sandre pointed again his stick towards him: the air around it began to swirl and color purple, as his feet sank into the ground, holding the incredible power of his attack.

Dag, after all the guards hid from his fury, recalled the fluid to himself, but it did not entirely enter his body: the two bundles remained behind his shoulders, facing forward as if they were two arms.

"Die!" shouted Sandre again, releasing the magic shot loaded for several seconds.

In addition to producing an incredible shockwave, which also destabilized Gridd, who, trying to get back to her feet, fell to the ground, from the stick was fired a bright purple ray, laden with arcane energy, able to increase the temperature around it, so much so that the air particles oscillated.