Woe

Chapter 3.

The ache in his head probably overpowered the pain he was feeling elsewhere. Which was comparable to being crushed under a massive mountain mind you so it was saying something. Wennerm groaned for the nth time that day and held his head in his hands, tears seeping into his eyes against the onslaught of the pain.

He had no idea how he got a fucking headache in the middle of the war. He hadn't even got hit today. It was just the general exhaustion of having to evacuate the entire battlefield which must have been getting to him now that the threat was somehow absolved. Rheo was dead. 

But that provided no comfort to him. In fact, in his heart, he was currently seamlessly terrified to the point of shock over the events that had transpired today. But at least Rheo was dead. That gave him hope that this godforsaken war was about to finally end.

But there was one task left yet.

Along with General Coltar and the rest of the soldiers alive and willing to contribute, they finally entered the battlefield once again to find out what had become of it. The sky had cleared, only leaving a bright grey line of clouds as a blanket above it, at least not as dark as night as it had previously been. 
It conforted Wennerm just a bit. 

The massive grounds where he had been fighting ceaselessly for a long long time now looked so desolate, it pricked his heart. Half-torn bodies strewn here and there like ragged leaves after a storm, pieces of clothes, weapons, and metal were lying around among them. Some areas of the ground were black with dried blood while some areas were completely unmarked and clear as if someone had swept a giant hand through it and cleared the ground. 

Most of all, there were piles and piles of humans and seelies and witches and dwarfs and the half breeds and demons and elves and weres and most essentially the gods fighting among them. No species were left unaffected. 

It seemed like it had stopped. He had stopped. And they found him soon enough, unconscious and lying on a small pile of broken limbs and broken metal pieces and bodies that were yet to rot. The council had concluded that they would kill him now that they could and Wennerm being their new king had to do the honors himself.

But the increasing amount of tears in his eyes blurred his vision and the trembling in his hands and his shoulder, his entire body made it difficult to hold the longsword, to even breathe was labour.

Sinn was lying there right in front of his eyes, peaceful for the first time since the war had begun. He was unconscious because he doubted anything could kill what he'd become. His silver armour was now completely gone and his swan white clothes which he wore underneath were torn and marred with blood and dirt.

He was bleeding from places Wennerm didn't dare to account and his face was a mess of scars, mouth cut at one side and the flesh on that handsome cheek ripped until one part of his jaw was visible. The blood had stopped flowing from the deep gash on his forehead and chest, but the bones near his wrists were still clearly visible, from where the chains had cut into them. 

Wennerm didn't dare to check elsewhere. He would break even more than he already had. And breaking now would be worse than dying.

His headache peaked.

He couldn't kill him. And others who tried failed miserably. No sword would pierce his skin. He had ascended. 

~.~

The king of Kiaal found himself sitting in a submarine, the walls of which were made entirely of glass, reinforced with magic to keep it from collapsing due to the water pressure. The entire submarine was submerged in a bluish hue and Wennerm couldn't take his eyes off the vast ocean they were currently in.