The Guardian gods-Chapter 522

But Chief was not entirely without his own defenses. Scrabbling through his satchel as he careened through the trees, his nimble fingers found purchase on a familiar piece of cobbled-together machinery. Another steampunk marvel, salvaged and repurposed during his flight. With a grunt of effort, he activated the device. A burst of steam propelled a small, weighted net backward, designed to momentarily ensnare his pursuers. It wouldn’t hold them for long, but every second counted.

The Ogres roared as the net unfurled, momentarily tangling their massive forms. Chief seized the opportunity, his new limbs instinctively firing sticky webs that snagged onto low-hanging branches. He swung through the air, a blur of fur and frantic energy, the wind whistling past his ears.

He could feel the spider’s skittering presence within him, its growing strength a chilling counterpoint to his desperate flight. The mana, once a tantalizing mystery, now felt like a double-edged sword, granting him new, horrifying abilities while simultaneously strengthening his inner tormentor.

Below, the Ogres were already tearing free of the net, their elemental warrior arts crackling to life. One slammed a gauntleted fist into the ground, and a fissure of earth snaked through the forest floor, forcing Chief to adjust his trajectory. The other drew a long, wickedly curved blade that shimmered with an icy aura.

The forest floor became a treacherous obstacle course, littered with the debris of Chief’s desperate flight. His steam-powered skates, once a symbol of escape, now spat sparks as they struggled to maintain purchase on the uneven terrain. The Ogres, relentless in their pursuit, were closing in. One, with a roar that shook the very trees, unleashed a torrent of earth, forcing Chief to swerve violently, the skates screeching in protest. A jagged rock tore into his side, a searing pain blooming amidst the adrenaline, and a crimson trail began to paint the forest floor.

His new limbs, grotesque but functional, lashed out, firing webs that snagged on branches, allowing him to swing through the canopy. But the Ogres were too fast, too skilled. The second Ogre, his blade shimmering with frost, cleaved through the web, sending Chief crashing to the ground. He scrambled back, his enhanced senses screaming a warning as the blade descended again. He rolled, narrowly avoiding the blow, but the frost kissed his fur, leaving a patch of agonizing cold.

Desperate, he unleashed a volley of webs, not to ensnare, but to distract. The sticky strands exploded around the Ogres, momentarily obscuring their vision. He seized the opportunity, his mutated body contorting in a way that would have been impossible weeks ago. He launched himself forward, a blur of motion, his claws, now sharper and stronger, raking across the Ogre’s armored leg. A spark flew as metal met flesh, and a guttural roar of pain echoed through the trees.

But the advantage was short-lived. The wounded Ogre, enraged, unleashed a wave of elemental fire, forcing Chief to retreat. His fur singed, the stench of burning flesh filled his nostrils. He could feel the spider’s presence within him, a dark, pulsing energy that both terrified and empowered him. It whispered of strength, of survival, but also of a terrible hunger.

He knew he couldn’t win a direct confrontation. His only hope was to use his agility, his webs, and his animalistic intuition of the forest to outmaneuver them. He fired a web, anchoring it to a distant tree, and swung across a ravine, the wind whipping through his fur. Below, the Ogres roared in frustration, their elemental powers unable to reach him across the chasm.

The respite was fast and small. The Ogres, driven by whatever determination, found a way around the ravine, their heavy footsteps echoing through the trees once more. Chief, his body screaming in protest, pushed himself onward, his breath ragged, his vision blurring. The spider’s whispers intensified, a chorus of dark promises that resonated with his desperation.

"Give in," it hissed, its voice a chilling counterpoint to his own ragged breaths. "Let me show you power. Let me protect you."

He resisted, his will a fragile shield against the encroaching darkness. But the pain, the fear, the sheer exhaustion, were eroding his defenses. The Ogres were gaining, their elemental powers crackling around them, the air thick with the scent of ozone and the certain promise of death.

In a moment of weakness, a moment born of pure, unadulterated terror, he yielded. He let go of the fragile control he had been clinging to, and the spider surged forth, its presence overwhelming, its power intoxicating.

A wave of dark energy erupted from him, a tangible manifestation of the entity that had tormented him for so long. The forest floor trembled, the trees swayed, and a colossal spider phantom materialized beside him, its eight eyes burning with malevolent light.

The colossal spider phantom, a nightmarish extension of Chief’s desperate gamble, unfolded its immense, hairy limbs, each tipped with claws that could rend steel. Its eight eyes, glowing with an inner, malevolent light, fixed on the two Ogre warriors who stood their ground, their runed armor radiating power.

The first Ogre lunged, his greatsword a blur of motion. The runes on its surface pulsed, and the air around it shimmered with contained force. The spider phantom met the charge with terrifying speed, its own limbs a chaotic flurry. Razor-sharp claws clashed against the Ogre’s blade, sending sparks flying and the clang of metal echoing through the ancient trees. The phantom’s sheer size and reach were overwhelming, forcing the Ogre onto the defensive, each parry a desperate effort against the relentless assault.

The second Ogre moved with practiced coordination, flanking the phantom. Runes on his gauntlets flared, and the very ground beneath his feet seemed to respond, sending jagged spikes of earth erupting towards the monstrous apparition. The spider phantom, surprisingly agile for its size, scuttled sideways, its many legs moving with unnerving speed, leaving deep gouges in the forest floor.

The first Ogre pressed his attack, his sword whistling through the air. The phantom countered with a stream of thick, black webbing that shot from its spinnerets with incredible force. The sticky strands, strong as iron cables, wrapped around the Ogre’s sword arm, momentarily hindering his movements. Seizing the opportunity, the phantom lunged, its fangs, dripping with a viscous, dark fluid, snapping inches from the Ogre’s face.

The second Ogre unleashed a wave of focused energy from his gauntlets. The air crackled, and a concussive force slammed into the spider phantom’s side, staggering the massive creature. It hissed, a sound like scraping stone, and its many eyes narrowed in fury.

The Ogre ensnared in the webbing struggled to break free, his roars of exertion echoing through the trees. The phantom, its attention divided, lashed out with its claws, tearing through the Ogre’s armor, drawing dark, viscous blood. The wounded Ogre staggered back, but his comrade pressed the attack, his movements fluid and deadly. He ducked under a sweeping claw and delivered a powerful blow to the phantom’s leg, the runed metal of his gauntlet impacting with a sickening crunch.

The spider phantom recoiled, its movements momentarily faltering. The second Ogre pressed his advantage, leaping onto the phantom’s back, his gauntlets glowing intensely. He rained down a series of powerful blows, each impact sending tremors through the phantom’s massive body.

But the spider phantom was far from defeated. With a violent lurch, it threw the Ogre from its back, sending him crashing into a tree. Then, turning its attention back to the first Ogre, still struggling in its webbing, it moved with terrifying speed. Its claws ripped through the remaining restraints, and with a swift, brutal strike, it silenced the warrior forever.

The last Ogre warrior, fueled by grief and a warrior’s ingrained refusal to yield, moved with a ferocity born of desperation. He ducked and weaved under the spider phantom’s massive limbs, his attacks precise and targeted, aiming for the ethereal essence of the apparition. His runed gauntlets slammed into the phantom’s form, each blow causing ripples in its shadowy substance, momentarily disrupting its movements.

The spider phantom, enraged by the persistent attacks of the smaller foe, lashed out with increasing speed and power. Its claws tore through the air, leaving trails of dark energy that seemed to dissipate moments later. Webs, thick and shadowy, shot out, attempting to ensnare the agile warrior, passing harmlessly through solid objects when they missed. But the Ogre was too quick, his movements fluid and unpredictable, honed by years of rigorous training.

He managed to leap onto the phantom’s back once more, his runed gauntlets glowing with intense energy. He rained down a series of powerful blows, each impact causing the phantom to shriek and flicker. The apparition bucked violently, trying to dislodge its attacker, its shadowy form distorting under the relentless assault.

The Ogre held on with grim determination, his grip like iron on the phantom’s insubstantial form. He focused his energy, and the runes on his gauntlets blazed. With a final, desperate surge of power, he slammed his fists into the back of the phantom’s head, right where its many eyes converged.