The Chimeric Ascension of Lyudmila Springfield

Chapter Ninety-Seven: The Dark Lord of Tyranny’s Roar – Part One (Illustrations!)

I thought I had died.     

After overpowering the Essence of Wrath, I merely waited for death to take me. My body was pushed to the edge. [Tyrannical Renewal] had no limit, but overuse would mean certain death.     

I recall the world getting colder when the curse came to collect its price. The feeling of my skin fading away and turning into nothingness... My last thought was of Irisa helping me lay down amid Ria’s desolate destruction.   

After my vision blackened, I couldn’t hear or see. The sense of touch, taste, and smell had no place for a corpse.     

I then felt an unbreakable coldness surround me. The vivid darkness that had swallowed me turned to ice resembling [Abyssal Iceflame].     

An inhumane voice shattered the frigidness, and I found myself floating amid nothingness with a body free of wounds. The crystalline-like fragments encircled me until they formed an arena.     

And there…    

Standing on the other end…    

…was the curse given form. Its shape altered every second. A dozen mouths and a thousand teeth chattered, laughed, and crackled, filling the waiting battlefield with indecipherable nonsense.     

I knew what it said.     

You can’t run away from me that easily.    

Death won’t save you from your destiny.    

Submit to me and fulfill your duty. Reduce this pathetic world to a frozen hellscape.   

I looked at the roof of ice above me and figured the lions must’ve done something. I was close to death, except…    

I hadn’t perished. Not yet.     

There was a chance…for me to see my liege.    

And like hell would I let it go.     

“You won’t ever take me,” I said, forming a mace, shield, and armor from [Abyssal Iceflame]. The familiar sensation chilled and warmed my bones. Being surrounded by proof of my power relaxed me.     

You’ve already let me in. You cannot hope to defeat me.    

The curse laughed, the noise vibrating the ice. It shattered, revealing the curse around us. It stared from an infinite number of eyes and ears. I felt it creeping up my legs and touch my lips. Its breath molested my stomach, but I burned my flames and ice and charged into battle with my mace raised. Its abyss-colored flames leaked behind me, creating a fiery moat.     

Time didn’t exist here as it did on the outside. I knew I was in the depths of my soul. The curse merely was trying to assume direct control. The encroaching surroundings from the curse’s manifestation made that all too clear.     

If I didn’t focus, it would creep closer and take that much more.     

My soul was mine. It once felt the full brunt of the power I wielded with my Divine Armament.     

So, there wasn’t a need to conserve any energy.     

I fought without holding anything back.     

A single moment felt like a year.     

A century felt like an eternity.      

A thousand lifetimes passed me, but I never let up the assault for a second. Even when it had come so far as to surround me in its hatred and reduced my space to a mere ten meters, my flames never died. I burned them to infinity and crafted a layer of ice, then fought with the intensity the Dark Lord of Tyranny was feared for.    

But the curse never retreated.      

It never once thought about giving up now that I had let it in.      

Suddenly, the curse surrounding me vanished, leaving the one I faced behind. Its uneven form looked scared.     

Frightened, even.     

It didn’t like my taunts. The damn thing shuddered and morphed into me, wielding my flames and ice.     

The curse was me, after all.     

And I was it.     

Its atmosphere altered. [Abyssal Iceflame] surged around its body, crafted my equipment, and rushed forward.     

I did the same, and we clashed.     

Each strike sent a wave of icy destruction scattering to the far-reach. Each block forced a torrent of flames to shoot into the sky.     

It copied everything I did.    

And another moment passed.     

And another…and another.     

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These weren’t mere moments.     

They were eons.     

The battle waged for infinity, and it served me well to train what I had only recently reacquired. The armor became sleeker and refined. The shield became brutal and frightening, and my projected mace regained its former luster and shine that foreshadowed the tyranny I was known for.     

It didn’t compare to my Divine Armament.    

At some point, I was faster, if only by a heartbeat.     

I was stronger, if only by a feather.     

The curse couldn’t replicate what I had grown into during our fight. It only copied what I had used to be.     

Ahh… Pressing the advantage… Seeing that fake drown in brimstone pleased me so very much.     

It never screamed or begged. It had too much pride to do so. Even after I crucified it in ice and drove my shield into its chest, it promptly stood and returned to battle.    

Eventually, vivid recreations of the Dark Lord of Tyranny played around us like those movies she had told me about. They depicted me at my worst—when the curse had been in full effect. Children and women...cut from belly to crotch... Flaming crows feasting on festering insides like a ripe buffet...    

And there I was... Laughing... Taunting that king for trying to go against me...while I threw his relatives’ heads at his crucified, barely alive body.    

And there I was…wading through that bloody river that had turned crimson from the ten thousand corpses I had those slaves throw in…   

And…there I was… Carving…cutting…snarling at the shattered fire spirit I had tormented with [Tyranny Control]… The shattered cores of all he had loved and cherished pulled him into the depths of madness… And I had been the conductor to guide him to that despair…    

I…had been the catalyst for Mt. Kindle to explode, giving rise to the brutal Ashlands that now monopolized much of Dirge’s central region. So many died… So many had their heart filled with fear of the unknown as ash choked them all… The skies were blocked out by thick, heavy clouds…   

Everything…that perished…fell by my actions…   

But that didn’t stop me.    

I knew my sins more than anyone. I knew the monster I had been. I...couldn’t make excuses. That...was me. Yes, the curse had been in command, but the curse targeted me, and logic dictated that it was my fault. Everything the Dark Lord of Tyranny had done came from my inability to kill myself when I was a child.    

Like I had done so many times in the past…  

The curse soon altered its tactics. It laughed and altered those moving pictures to show my deaths throughout the eons—of me being poisoned, skewered, and starved—raped and thrown to the pigs to serve as their final meals before being slaughtered...   

I had lived through so many existences, and I had met so many violent, brutal ends...all because the curse wanted to taunt me with horrible imagery to make me want to destroy the world.    

I wouldn’t fall for it.   

So what?   

Death was natural. I...only feared it because this curse wouldn’t permit me to remain dead. I risked it all to save the one I loved because I had faith she’d find a way to free me from this horrific destiny when I next awoke two or three centuries from now.    

The curse halted its attack and looked up. It smiled and transformed into a horrible beast, but it didn’t do much more. I waited for it to become my surroundings. Even if it tried to entrap me from all sides, it wouldn’t work. That wasn’t all, though.     

A gentle gray pillar of light appeared in the distant sky and descended upon the curse. It turned its infinite heads to me.     

I am the shadow that binds you to the darkness. You cannot exist without me. We are one and the same, and I will have your soul. You shall fulfill your destiny and end this world… Do not think that can be averted. The secret dream you carry… It will never see reality. It will never come to fruition.   

I just knew what it said. Those unholy screams, murmurs, and cackles were as clear as day to my ears.  And it was right. I…had a dream I hadn’t told her about. Was such a happy-go-lucky future…even in the cards for someone as stained in death as me? Did…I even deserve to experience an ounce of that idealistic fate I desired?   

Without me, you would have died. I am the source of your power. Do not ever forget that, ***** **********.  

The last two words were indecipherable and weren’t worth replying to. It was probably a trick or a trap, and I wouldn’t fall for it.     

I pointed with my mace and watched it ascend the pillar of grey mana, where it dissolved into nothingness.     

And then I found myself restrained. Sharp ice formed around me, encasing me in a coffin. It felt warm, cold, and familiar.      

A cyclone of fire and ice surrounded me, and the world went black. It filled me with a sense of longing…and anticipation…    

I knew…    

I knew she had saved me… So I wasn’t scared when those prior injuries returned to my body. What was there to be afraid of?    

Nothing.     

Because I had faith in her… In the Transcendent Dark Lord.     

It was faint, but I felt a sensation around my arms. A set of lips occupied mine. Something passed to my tongue, and everything was enveloped by a soft, golden glow.     

Light returned to my world… The shattering of ice was heard…    

And there she was…    

The woman who freed me from my seal…and taught me what it meant to love…     

The woman…I wanted to grow old with…   

The one I wanted to spend my twilight with…   

The one… The only one I had ever…truly loved…   

She was my light…my savior…and my future…  

---

It seemed much had happened in my absence. My liege held me tightly when the lion said it would share its knowledge.  The memories flooded in, catching me up on what I had missed.    

I knew my liege had her doubts, but Surtr assisted her in my place.    

No... She wouldn’t want to be called that. Not anymore.    

There was also the sad, sad tale of Michael Fenton.     

That’s why…    

I hugged her tighter. And tighter. And tighter. Flames spiraled around us as I let my feelings take over.     

“They’ll die.”    

“I know they will.”    

“I’ll kill them all.”    

“Yes, I know.”    

“I’ll rip a hole to your world and enact your revenge…”    

Mila remained quiet. She didn’t cry, but her touch was weak. She seemed so fragile, and I knew she had feared losing my respect after new information concerning her revenge had come to light.    

She didn’t want me to think she had lost her edge or gone soft.   

She knew her worries shouldn’t have been there. She knew it didn’t make logical sense for me to hate her.    

And I wasn’t mad. No. It was the opposite.    

I was proud of her growth—I really was. It wasn’t easy to confront the truth when you’ve lived so long believing in something else.   

I had been destined for destruction. Chaos filled my mind for hundreds, maybe even thousands of reincarnations. Living without it clouding my sanity was a challenge, but she had helped me, and I shall help her in return.     

I didn’t have to say anything, though. She took my actions as proof of the love I’d forever hold for her.  

I didn’t want to let go, but there were things to do.     

I turned to Tris. She took off her hat and held it to her chest. Her blue eyes shimmered with that smiling expression as her lion-like ears twitched. “Welcome back… You’ve been greatly missed. Umm… Please…forgive me for this!” She suddenly hugged me.    

“Congratulations on your evolution,” I whispered, rubbing her soft, blond hair. “I’m glad I can finally touch you.”   

Tris wiped her teary eyes, returned her hat to her head, and I looked at the proud lion.     

“You’ve done well, Surtr. The name suits you.”    

“It was my pleasure, my lady!” Surtr roared, sending an orb of darkened fire from his tail into the sky. It exploded—his way of welcoming me back.     

“You deserve a reward.” I held a hand to his face and deposited more of mana. Surtr’s body flashed vividly, and a being formed from my excessive strength achieved evolution.    

He was no longer constrained to being a mere lion…    

No, that was one form he could take.     

“What is…” The Lionfolk I stared at was the same Surtr. He stood tall, proud, and imposing, exuding an aura of raw power and confidence I had expected of him. This new form had a lean, muscular build accentuated by the elaborate and ornate attire I had made for him with my flames and ice.   

His long, wild hair flowed past his shoulders, blending into shades of red or blue—depending on if he desired to channel ice or fire. It took a second for those crimson eyes to acknowledge what I had done, and then they glowed with a mix of cunning, danger, and a desire to slaughter our enemies.    

His facial features had sharpened, giving him a more menacing and regal appearance. He seemed like a king in his own right.   

The attire I had crafted for him with my flames and ice was magnificent. A long, flowing coat draped over his form, its edges flickering with the fiery intensity of molten lava one moment, then shimmering like the purest ice the next. The coat’s deep black fabric was adorned with intricate patterns of crimson and blue, swirling like living flames and frost around his frame.   

The furred shoulders of the coat added to his already intimidating silhouette, making him appear larger than life. Beneath it, his armored vest fit him like a second skin—dark, polished, and etched with the same elemental motifs. His clawed gauntlets gleamed under the light, each finger tipped with razor-sharp, deadly claws that promised swift and brutal retribution to any who dared challenge him.   

His legs were encased in dark, flexible pants, perfect for the quick, agile movements he was capable of. The sturdy yet sleek boots carried the same fiery and icy patterns, completing the fearsome ensemble.   

He may have had a few wrinkles scattered across his brow, making him look wiser and older, but he had not gotten an ounce weaker.   

No—it was the opposite. The Surtr of yesterday was like a malnourished, sick cub when you compared him to the mighty warrior standing before me.   

“Ah...” Surtr was speechless. He looked himself over and kneeled. “Thank you, my lady!”   

“Stand and rise, Surtr.”   

“At once!” Surtr roared, sending a plume of fire erupting from his mouth.  

“And Aetos… You’ve shrunk since the last time I saw you.” I turned to the pot and saw a baby eagle perching.     

“I cannot say the same for you, Dark Lord of Tyranny. Did you enjoy your nap?”    

“You could say that. Thank you, eagle, for waking me.” Thanking someone who hated me… The feeling felt odd. Aetos’s face was just as surprised—he couldn’t believe what had escaped my lips.   

I told Mila what happened to me. She smiled when I said I was much stronger than before precise control. Dispelling the curse I had let in ‘technically’ weakened me, but my precise control was like me in my prime. I’d be within throwing distance of my apex if I had my mace.    

“Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you,” Aetos answered after I asked. “Only Lord Amos knows. He hasn't been seen in centuries. We presume he has died. If you cannot detect your mace, assume he had successfully sealed it.”    

“Your mace can come later. Let’s return to the mansion. Tilde and the others are waiting. We must decide how to proceed, but we won’t rush into anything. And there’s much to discuss about how to handle Sera.”   

Seraphina Vredi…   

No one alive from 1,000 years ago hated me more than her, and here she was...indirectly responsible for healing my wounds.    

How ironic…   

Friendship was an impossibility. Seraphina's anger would probably supersede any desire to help break the curse binding me.     

I recalled her being emotional and haughty like that. If she had been really training since my imprisonment, then she held the power to end my life.   

…   

How will we navigate this issue?  

“Mila?”   

“Ye-- Wait, Mila?” She did a double take.    

“The memories Surtr gave me. You wanted Niva to stand beside you, yes? And not behind? You desire the same for me.”   

“That’s right!” Mila embraced me and said she regretted it when I used [Tyranny Control] to bind my will to her command. “I don’t know what I was thinking, but I wish I could take it back... I love you.”   

I was hasty and foolish in doing that. It was a mistake only visible in hindsight, but we couldn't do anything about the mark of my most feared skill staining my belly. It was set in stone, and not even I could shatter it. I doubt anything could, and we had to live with it. And there was really only one thing I could say...   

“I love you too, Mila.”   

The informality made my heart feel funny. I wasn’t used to this casualness, but it felt...   

It just felt right.

There were a lot of things I wished I had done differently. Looking back on who I used to be? I…didn’t know if I liked that woman. I was her—yes—but after spending so long fighting the curse inside my soul, I felt…different. More mature or experienced, you could say. And hindsight was making me see all my errors—like trying to force sexual gratification on Mila to establish the initial link of [Tyranny Control] when we had just met.  

Just…why in the hell did I do that? What was I thinking? Then again… That was me at the time. And who I am now? Yes, I’m different, but it’s growth. It’s proof the curse doesn’t define me. I will not let it take me.    

Mila and I held hands. Her touch was familiar, warm, and enchanting. Our fingers intertwining…reminded me of our first time. I never wanted to go without this feeling for even a day. “I have a gift for you, Sekh,” she said. A tunic, skirt, and boots appeared in her hands. “They’re sewn from my crystal-clad webbing. And they’re immune to fire and ice. I’ve been working on it in secret.”   

The outfit perfectly hugged my body. The crystal fragments sparkled, and the crimson and azure fit well. I smiled and twirled, feeling…so giddy…like butterflies were about to rise through my stomach.     

“There’s something else.” Mila produced a ruby necklace.  

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered. The jewel sparkled with gorgeous luster, reflected by the clear webbing reinforcing it.    

I could make it better. The collar... It was still around my neck—proof that I was enslaved by Mila, so...if I did this...   

“Sekh, what...” Her eyes widened as I grabbed the necklace, and she finally understood when the collar vanished. And in its place sat my most prized possession...    

“The collar’s gone. There’s no need for it, is there? This...” I softly smiled and held Mila’s hands. “This is all I need. If I have it... As long as it’s there... I can feel you around me, Mila... It symbolizes your love. It's not a reminder of [Tyranny Control].”   

“It looks stunning on you, Sekh. I’m glad it turned out so well. Oh, I can’t—”   

Suddenly, the Spiritual Grove violently shook, and Mila demanded an answer. “The Eagle Yew is under siege!” cried the eagle. “It became enveloped in spirit mana during the transplant process! The ones relentlessly attacking the village must’ve waited until now.”   

Aetos didn’t know who they were. While they appeared to be mere bandits, their skills, spells, numbers, and tactics suggested the opposite. Bandits wouldn’t have known magic to forcibly induce decay and rot upon the Eagle Yew. They wouldn’t have readied catapults and trebuchets and loaded them with expensive poison designed to rot mana-infused wood.   

No.     

Bandits would rely on their numbers and brutality. And they’d run away upon being shown a greater force.     

These cretins kept returning after sustaining dozens of losses. They were determined to capture the village’s spirit, enslave the inhabitants, steal Aetos’s core, or see the eagle die.     

“Those petulant fools…” Mila cursed. “How dare they… How dare they…” She clenched a fist.    

“The coffin was cramped, Mila. I feel like stretching my legs,” I said, a hint of ire cladding my tone. I did not desire this interruption.    

“Are you sure?”   

“I am. I will make our enemies regret coming between our reunion. And you, eagle. Do not worry. I will protect you, the village, and the Eagle Yew, for is it not the least I can do for saving my life? Let me show you my improved mastery of the power that once brought the world to a screeching halt.”    

No, Sekh. Stop speaking like that. You…need to change.    

[Abyssal Iceflame] surged around my body, casting me in armor.   

The clothing was unaffected. Its quality was sublime. The jewel was unharmed.     

“Surtr, let us go. I’m sure you desire to test your new strength. We will not spare these ingrates.”   

“At once, my lady!” Surtr stood and formed a massive axe. The handle was fire, and the blade was ice. “They will rue the day they were born!”   

Aetos made a portal, and the Spiritual Grove shook violently once more. The world went dark as my flames illuminated our surroundings.      

“They blocked the Eagle Yew’s spirit mana?!” Aetos gasped, my fire glimmering in his feathers. He panicked and tried to force a reconnection.     

It didn’t work.      

“Have you fallen so much to lose yourself, eagle? This is nothing I cannot handle.” I took a breath and enflamed my armor while holding my hand out. “With the power of [Conferment], I use my authority as the Dark Lord of Tyranny…”