There was no corruption-no exterior object to blame. How much could he trust himself? Once, he’d blamed these instincts on the Infinity Blade, assuming that it was corrupting him. She withdrew, and Siris settled back, disturbed at the realization of how desperately he wanted to be the only living Deathless.
#Infinity blade: redemption free#
I’m going to free us all.”Īnd after that, he’d be the only remaining Deathless. “You’re really going to kill him?” the woman asked. “With my own eyes.” She looked at him adoringly. the more he leaned upon the Dark Self, the more those kinds of thoughts crept into his mind. They aren’t minions, Siris told himself forcibly. He would need the good will of his minions. The Dark Self was furious at the interruption, but it adapted quickly. Soldiers, grooms, the town chandler, and now a cook. She was one of several dozen who had come to him during the last few hours. “Don’t call me Deathless,” Siris said, smiling. Deathless, sir?” she asked from the doorway. She was one of the cooks, likely someone who had run from direct Deathless employ. The newcomer was a woman in an apron and a dark grey cotton dress. It had its own window, which he left open to the cool mountain breeze. He sat in the top room of the command center. Siris looked up from his reports and maps. It’s like he doesn’t care.Ī knock sounded at the door. He could have fixed this easily, Siris thought, turning to the next report. Barely any coordination between its pieces, local minor Deathless taking up dominion of their little fiefdoms and ignoring decrees from the fake God King, villages starving because shipping had broken down. The brutality in the God King’s lands was astonishing. THIS, SIRIS thought, holding up the next sheet of paper, does not make sense. He picked up a rock and smashed the lens with a swift motion. “These are my lands,” Raidriar hissed, leaning in.
He found the lens, through which he knew the Worker would be watching. He lurched to his feet and walked to the machinery that he had teleported, a lump of metal and wires about the size of a small table.
Not organic enough to be considered fully alive, but not machine enough to have proper shielding. That was the problem with these terrible hybrids. The monster dropped with a thump, ichor spilling from the hole. Only non-living matter could travel with the ring, after all.
The machinery vanished from the beast’s back in a flash of light, then it appeared nearby, teleported to the thrown ring. He rolled over, then took the second half of the teleportation ring and hurled it while activating its summoning property. He slammed to the ground nearby with a grunt, ribs cracking. “I am a God,” he shouted, rolling across the beast’s back and slapping the key of the teleportation ring against the machinery keeping the monster alive. “I am not an irritation!” Raidriar rammed his second blade into the monster’s back, using that for a handhold as the thing thrashed and lurched. He used that handhold to heave, pulling himself upward to scramble onto the monster’s back. He dodged under the creature’s inevitable swing, then leaped, slamming his sword into the beast’s leathery side. “I am not some peasant to be toyed with!” Raidriar shouted.
Then, he raised his blade and dashed at the beast. Raidriar sheathed one sword, then reached into his pouch and fished out the teleportation ring. It’s kept alive by machinery, not by a brain.
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