The scream erupted from the creature's very core, a mixture of agony and fury. The sound was not what was expected. It was something deeper, more visceral, as if the world itself took a deep breath only to shatter.
A scream that did not come from its lungs, but from the very essence tearing itself apart, from the corruption that had long ago lost its humanity, and from the millennial agony of a trapped soul. It was a pure sound, a sonic burst that destroyed the reality around it.
The shockwave was visible. The air rippled like water struck by a stone, turning into distorted, fragile crystal for a thousandth of a second before exploding.
BOOOOOOM!
Gretel's prison of chains exploded into a thousand shards of agonizing light. The fine filaments of Uriel's darkness around the Fragment were swept away like cobwebs in a hurricane. Gaellum's sword was torn from his hands, spinning dangerously before embedding itself far away in the marble floor.
The impact struck them all.
Seres was thrown backward like a ragdoll. She felt her ribs crack upon impact against the farthest wall, twenty meters away. The world became a blur of pain and white light. Gaellum was thrown sideways, his armor ringing like a struck bell as he crashed into a thick pillar. He fell to the ground, motionless.
Gretel, already on her knees and exhausted, had no defense. The wave dragged her across the floor like a dry leaf, slamming her against the base of the throne with a dull crunch.
Lycor, who was trying to maintain control of the residual wind, was lifted and thrown like a doll against the cracked wall where Isis had been moments before. The stone gave way a little more under his impact.
The floor around Isis exploded, opening a huge crater as the scream continued to expand.
Even Uriel, an Ascended Titan, was pushed back. His dark form rippled and partially dissipated under the raw force of the scream, forcing him to consolidate again, farther away.
His dark creature was sent flying, embedding itself forcefully into a corner of the wall.
The castle itself trembled. Chunks of stone and dust fell from the high ceiling of the hall. The cracks in the walls multiplied and deepened. The stained glass that had survived the battle exploded in a rain of colored crystals that tinkled as they fell on the debris.
The sound—that scream of death and liberation—resonated beyond the hall. It propagated through the castle corridors, shook the foundations, and echoed out to the ruined city. Outside, for a second, both the dragon Gunlaug, the corrupted vulture Titan, and all the creatures on the ground paused, their struggles interrupted by the primordial chill that swept through the air.
Soul shuddered upon hearing that heart-wrenching scream.
In the center of the hall, amidst the great crater, stood Isis. Her mouth closed, and the wounds from which thick black blood had begun to fall became fainter and weaker. Her only garment was destroyed and torn, revealing her naked body beneath, but strangely, it lacked everything. It was like a sculpture, a mold devoid of the sex of a woman.
...
In the sky, the clamor of the titanic battle resumed with redoubled ferocity after the chilling scream.
Gunlaug, the black and gold dragon, had felt the release of sacred energy and the subsequent explosion of corrupt despair. His eyes, like molten embers, saw the opportunity. The corrupted Titan had also shuddered, and in that shudder, the tormented spirits that formed its perpetual aura stirred violently, some even seeming to dissipate, released by the echo of the roar.
It was the moment.
Gunlaug rose like a shadow against the twilight sky, gathering power in his throat. A roar that was also an ancient chant erupted from his maw, and from it shot forth fire—a fire covered in black flames—that redirected itself toward the Titan.
The ray struck the left wing of the vulture Titan head-on. The decomposing feathers disintegrated, the corrupt plumes evaporated, and the putrid flesh was exposed. The spirits around it released a chorus of high-pitched laments, and many of them, upon seeing the black flames, seemed to reach a momentary, immense terror before scattering into the air, finally free.
The vulture screamed, a sound of pain and rage that had nothing to do with Isis's scream, but which reverberated in the bones of those below. It tried to counterattack, launching a swarm of projectiles formed from the remaining spirits, but Gunlaug was already in motion.
With a speed that contradicted its colossal size, the dragon pounced. Its powerful front claws, each the size of a carriage, closed like inflexible pincers around the base of the vulture's wounded wing. The muscles of Gunlaug, taut with transcendent power, and a moment later...
RRIIIIIP!
The sound was horrible, a terrifying tear of flesh, tendon, and corrupt essence. Gunlaug ripped the left wing from the vulture with a brutal, rending motion.
A torrent of black, pestilent blood, mixed with fragments of splintered bone and flashes of cursed energy, gushed from the monstrous wound like a profane geyser.
The vulture Titan plummeted from the sky, spinning out of control, its scream turned into a hoarse whimper of a dying animal. Its fall was a minor apocalyptic event.
It impacted the ground right in the middle of the sea of corrupted beasts still fighting under Soul's influence. The shockwave flattened dozens, perhaps hundreds, of creatures, reducing them to dark smears on the earth. The body of the corrupted Titan, now mutilated and agonizing, convulsed once, twice, before falling still, its enormous chest rising and falling with final spasms.
The battle on the ground, in a wide radius around it, stopped completely. The corrupted beasts, deprived of the intimidating presence of their champion and sensing the change in the air, began to retreat, to become disorganized.
Soul, from her distant tree form, observed the fall. A sigh of relief, as subtle as the movement of a purple leaf, ran through her branches. A key piece on the board had fallen. But her attention, and a pang of worry through her bond, turned again toward the castle. Toward her father. Isis's scream had not been the sound of a clean victory.
Gunlaug circled in the sky, releasing a powerful roar as a sign of victory.