Chapter 116: The New Lord!? [FIXED!][20/06!]
The final battle was upon them.
Jason walked through the valley of death—grey soil cracking beneath his boots, the twisted trees of the Marrow bowing as he passed. The wind howled around him, carrying the scent of decay and ancient blood. He did not slow, he did not falter.
In a few minutes, he was right where he wanted to be.
Maldred’s domain stretched before him—a wasteland of broken pillars and shattered stone, the aftermath of wars fought centuries ago. And there, at the center of it all, sat the giant on his throne of bone and metal.
Maldred.
He did not look threatened. His eyes were calm, almost bored, as he watched Jason approach. His massive frame filled the throne, scars glowing faintly red across his iron-grey skin. He did not rise. He did not prepare for battle for the being before him couldn’t cause him such distress.
He simply waited.
Jason’s eyes scanned the environment. He was looking for something—someone. And then he saw it.
A body. Headless. Lying crumpled against a broken pillar. Strands of silver hair matted with blood. Tattered robes that had once been fine. The elf’s body. No, that was Thalion’s body.
Jason’s breath caugh, his steps slowed. His heart, which had been steady through the slaughter, began to pound against his ribs.
"Huh?" Jason thought to himself.
He walked toward the body, his feet moving of their own accord. His mind raced, refusing to accept what his eyes were showing him. He had fought through the Marrow. Had absorbed the power of a lord. Had slaughtered thirty minions without breaking a sweat.
And yet, this—this was something he had not prepared for.
Maldred watched him approach. His voice, when it came, was low and rumbling, like grinding stones.
"Fascinating," he said. "I was expecting someone dangerous to appear before me. Someone with the power to challenge a lord."
He studied Jason’s form—his lean frame, his bruised face, his bloodshot eyes.
"But you look everything but dangerous."
Jason ignored him. He knelt beside the headless body. His fingers trembled as they reached out, brushing against the cold, lifeless flesh. The silver hair was matted with dried blood. The robes were torn and stained. The neck—where the head should have been—ended in a ragged stump.
This is Thalion.
The realization hit him like a physical blow. His fingers pressed against the body, seeking warmth, seeking life, seeking anything that would tell him this was an illusion.
But there was nothing. Just cold, just the unrelenting cruelty of death.
Maldred grinned, his cracked lips curling upward.
"It looks like the lord of vines has bestowed upon you his curse. A fitting end for a fool who thought he could challenge—"
"You fucking bastard!"
Jason’s scream tore through the wasteland.
The ground erupted. Roots burst from the grey soil—hundreds of them, thousands of them, thick as serpents and sharp as spears. They shot toward Maldred, wrapping around his arms, his legs, his torso, his throat. They squeezed. They crushed. They tightened with enough force to shatter stone.
Maldred did not flinch.
He did not try to move out of the way. He did not even blink. The vines wrapped around his neck, digging into the iron-grey flesh, threatening to crush his windpipe.
"Is this all?" Maldred asked. His voice was calm, unaffected, as if he were commenting on the weather.
The vines tightened further. Ichor dripped from where they bit into his skin but it wasn’t his blood.
"I will fucking kill you!" Jason roared.
The roots around Maldred’s neck tightened.
Maldred did not do much.
The vines around him began to decay. Not slowly, not gradually—they rotted in an instant, turning black and brittle, crumbling to ash that drifted away on the wind. He didn’t need to lift a finger. Life just ceased to exist around him.
Jason watched in horror as the thousands of vines he had summoned withered and died. The roots that had erupted from the ground with such fury were now nothing but dust. The air itself seemed to grow colder, thinner, as if Maldred’s presence was suffocating the very essence of the Marrow.
"It will take more than adrenaline to defeat this monster," Jason realized. "It killed Thalion. It had to be strong."
Maldred smiled and his eyes gleamed with amusement.
"Do you want to know where Thalion is?" he asked.
Jason’s fists clenched. His jaw tightened. "Y-You bastard! You killed him!"
Maldred shook his head slowly. "That is false. That body you see there was never his body. The elf’s body, yes. But Thalion’s soul... is elsewhere."
Jason’s mind raced. "What are you talking about?"
"There is a way for you to reunite with him. If you are willing to listen." Maldred’s voice was calm, almost gentle. "His soul is trapped, hidden but not destroyed."
Before Jason could respond, Maldred moved.
The giant appeared right in front of him—a blur of iron-grey flesh and glowing scars. For someone of his size, the speed was impossible. Jason couldn’t even follow the movement despite his enhanced abilities.
His barrier erected at the very last second.
It rotted away instantly.
Maldred’s massive hand reached down, fingers curling, aiming to crush Jason like a bug.
Jason manifested a branch a few meters away. It shot toward him, wrapping around his waist, yanking him out of harm’s way just as Maldred’s fist closed on empty air.
Jason landed hard, his chest heaving. The branch crumbled to ash behind him.
If the branches can’t harm this thing, there has to be another way to make them useful in this fight.
He kissed his teeth in irritation. He hated it, but he knew the truth.
He stood no chance against this giant.
This was a different kind of monster.
But then Maldred did something twisted. His body began to twitch—convulsing, shuddering, his golden eyes flickering. His massive frame trembled as if something inside him was fighting for control.
And then, for a brief second, his voice changed.
"J-Jason?"
The voice was different. Higher, more desperate but familiar.
"R-RUN!"
Jason’s blood ran cold as his heart stopped for a brief second.
"Thalion!"
His mind raced, if Thalion was truly inside him, then harming this giant would be harming him. Jason had experienced Thalion trying to take over his psyche before. He knew it was a possibility. What if this monster had him trapped? What if the soul was still there, buried beneath centuries of hunger and rage?
Jason stared at the giant. The twitching stopped. Maldred’s golden eyes returned, cold and mocking.
"T-Thalion?" Jason whispered.
-
The lord of the vines sat in the darkness of his chamber, his smaller form trembling, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. The air around him was cold and still, heavy with the weight of centuries. Before him, the apple pulsed with a faint, rhythmic glow—the only source of light in the room, the only constant in an existence defined by isolation and hunger.
He had cannibalized himself to feed it.
His severed arm was gone, consumed by the fruit’s insatiable hunger. Now, he reached up with his remaining hand and tore at his own chest. Grey flesh peeled away like old bark. Black ichor dripped onto the stone floor, sizzling as it made contact. He did not flinch. He did not hesitate. He fed the pieces to the apple, watching as they dissolved into the void within its skin.
It was strange. It made no sense. The apple was a part of himself—an extension of his being, a fragment of his power given physical form. Consuming himself to sustain it should have been futile, an endless loop of self-devouring that accomplished nothing.
But this was not futile.
Because the apple had always been his true form, not the other way round.
Every other thing that existed outside of the apple was an apparition. The lord of vines, the creature that had ruled the castle of roots, the being that had spoken to Mae and Jason, the watcher, the minions—all of it was an apparition in itself. A projection. A fragment of his consciousness given shape and purpose.
Even this current form—the weakened, trembling creature that was now feeding itself to the fruit—was just an apparition. A vessel. A temporary shell that had served its purpose and was now being discarded.
The apple pulsed. Its glow intensified.
The lord’s remaining hand reached for his own throat. His fingers dug into the grey flesh, squeezing, tearing. His body began to dissolve, his form unraveling like smoke in the wind. His essence returned to the void from which it had been created, flowing into the apple like water into a vessel.
The fruit consumed him greedily, the hunger was unknown but what was more unique was it never woke to continue the cycle.
It woke to break it.
The Marrow was already on the verge of collapse, and his consciousness fading. It no longer requires him to sleep. It no longer recognizes me as a lord which worked out in his favor.
He had transferred his power to Jason. By doing so, he had effectively removed himself from the Marrow’s awareness. The ancient barrier that governed the four lords no longer perceived him as a threat. He was free—free to remain awake, free to act, free to exist without the crushing weight of the cycle.
But there was something else in play.
By bestowing his power upon Jason, the lord of vines had done more than simply share his strength. He had passed on his mantle. His title. His connection to the Marrow itself. The barrier, in its ancient and absolute logic, had recognized the transfer.
By the barrier’s definition, Jason had effectively taken his place.
Now all the lord had to do for that transition to take effect—for Jason to become the new lord of the Marrow and be bound to it—was to completely disappear. To cease to exist. To leave no trace of himself behind and this was a plan that took centuries to come into fruition.
Which was why he was cannibalizing himself.
The lord’s body was almost gone now. His legs had dissolved into nothing. His torso was shrinking, collapsing inward like a dying star. Only his head remained, his golden eyes fixed on the apple as it pulsed with growing intensity.
When Jason is bound to this place, he will gain a tremendous power increase.
The thought was almost poetic. The individual had come to the Marrow seeking his friend. He had absorbed the watcher’s power. He had taken the lord’s mantle. He had killed dozens of minions and faced the giant Maldred without flinching.
Now, he would become something greater. Something that had not existed in centuries.
But if his body can contain it, that is another thing altogether.
There was a low chance of that happening. The power of a lord was immense—too immense for any mortal vessel. Even with his system, even with his adaptations, even with the endless hunger that drove him forward, Jason’s body might not survive the transition. His mind might shatter. His soul might be consumed by the very power he had sought.
The lord’s final piece dissolved into the void.
The apple pulsed once, twice, then went still.
In the darkness of the chamber, only the fruit remained. Its skin was smooth, unblemished, glowing faintly with the remnants of a power that had been passed on.
And somewhere in the Marrow, Jason felt a shift.
A weight settling on his shoulders. A presence pressing against his consciousness. A connection forming between him and the ancient barrier that had governed this wasteland for millennia.
He had become the new lord.
