Chapter 131: Final Impact
I would like, for the sake of posterity, to note that there are many things one expects to encounter in the course of an evening gone terribly wrong.
An ambush in a cursed city? Certainly. A stitched monstrosity wielding a hammer the size of a carriage? Par for the course. A King-Class mage turning gravity into a party trick designed to pulp your insides? Of course, why not.
But what I hadn’t penciled into my schedule—what I had not so much as drafted a sarcastic postscript about in the margins of my mental diary—was the mountain.
Yes, the mountain.
The entire bloody side of the mountain deciding to detach itself from reality and come crashing down toward us in a fiery tantrum of molten earth and grinding stone.
I will tell you now: no pen, no stopwatch, no wit sharp enough to cut marble could have prepared me for the sound.
It didn’t sound like thunder. Thunder was far too polite compared to this. Thunder rolls, it warns you, it grumbles like a drunken uncle.
This was something else entirely. It was as if creation itself had been struck with a hammer and forced to ring, a bell tolling for every man, woman, rabbit, and saint foolish enough to still be breathing in this city.
The noise punched the air out of my lungs and left my ribs rattling in protest, like my skeleton was trying to pack its things and leave the premises.
The wave of force hit next. Not just a gust, not just hot wind—it was an entire wall of pressure, thick and violent, sweeping down the street and smacking against my skin with the delicacy of a cathedral collapsing in slow motion.
It ripped dust from the cobblestones, shredded banners, bent shutters until they screamed. I staggered beneath it, clutching Rodrick closer against my chest, my boots skidding across the street as if the city had suddenly tilted and decided to eject me.
And then—the mountain moved
.I swear to you, I saw it with my own eyes. The summit, proud and jagged against the night sky only moments before, erupted in chunks—massive boulders of blackened earth belched outward in arcs too graceful to belong to death.
They trailed smoke and fire, mini meteors birthed by the mountain itself, and they began to rain upon the city.
The first slammed into a street three blocks away. The shockwave traveled to us in an instant, rattling my teeth, making Rodrick groan in half-conscious agony.
Another chunk hurtled farther, whistling as it fell, until it smashed into the ruins of the market-district plaza.
I braced for the explosion—but the mage’s barrier shivered into being instead, translucent and arrogant, and the rock rebounded like a toy hurled against glass. The fragments scattered harmlessly into the air, deflected into alleys and rooftops, crushing only the unlucky stragglers who’d decided to fall for the trap.
And still the worst was yet to come.
Just then, the side of the mountain collapsed, folding down like wet parchment, avalanching forward with a grinding roar that drowned even my thoughts.
Entire slabs of stone the size of keeps ground against one another, pulverizing into dust before reforming into an unstoppable tide.
And it was coming straight for us.
Now, a reasonable man might have screamed and run for the hills. I am not a reasonable man.I am me. And therefore I did both at once: screamed like a dying songbird and attempted to drag my legs toward the nearest theoretical escape, which in this case consisted of "anywhere that wasn’t currently being eaten by a mountain."
But not everyone shared my urgency.
The Man in White stood dead center of the street, still as a statue, his cloak immaculate even in the rushing wind.
His hand opened slowly, reverently, unfurling the gleam of the golden coin. And when he revealed it—heads—he laughed.
Not a chuckle, not a grin, but a high, pompous laugh that cut through the chaos like a knife, arrogant and wild, as though the mountain itself had collapsed purely for his entertainment.
"You mad bastard!" I shouted, lungs tearing with each word. "Run! For once in your immaculate life, try running!"
But he only looked back over his shoulder, that infuriating smile tugging at the corner of his mouth from under his hood. "There is no need," he said, each word precise, measured, as if he were announcing the weather. "We have won."
Won. Won?! I gaped at him, eyes stinging from smoke, Rodrick bleeding out in my arms, the mountain bearing down with the appetite of a god. What, precisely, had we won? A scenic burial? A group discount on funeral pyres? Because from where I was standing, victory looked suspiciously like dying beneath several tons of flaming geology.
Salem, however—oh, saints damn him—Salem did not move.
He stood just behind the Man in White, his twin swords sheathed now, his expression flat, empty, his body unnaturally still.
I wanted to grab him, to shake him, to demand what sort of brain parasite had convinced him that stoicism was an acceptable response to continental collapse, but there was no time. None at all.
My little army had more sense, or perhaps more cowardice, which I’ve always respected. They broke instantly, scattering down side streets, diving into alleys, tripping over their own perfect hair and boots as they fled the apocalypse with all the dignity of rats from a sinking ship. Good. I encouraged this. Rats survive. Heroes get flattened.
"Nara!" I barked, staggering sideways as I beckoned the trembling rabbit-keeper with my free hand. "With me! Move your delicate ass!"
He flinched, ears trembling, eyes wide with tears, but he followed. Saints bless him, he followed.
Only one thought anchored me now. One word thrumming through my mind, pounding against my skull with every heartbeat. Up. We needed to get to high ground. If the world is going to bury you, climb as high as you can, even if the grave is only delayed by seconds.
I barreled into the nearest building, shoulder cracking against the wooden door until it splintered open. The interior was a mess of overturned tables, collapsed beams, the lingering stink of old smoke. None of it mattered.
I charged through, boots hammering the stairs, Rodrick’s weight threatening to drag me backward with each step. My thighs screamed mutiny, my arms burned, but still I climbed.
Nara followed close behind, his little hands clutching at the banister, his breath hiccuping with every step. His cloak snagged once, and for a heartbeat I thought he’d collapse there and then, but somehow—by desperation or by saintly intervention—he pressed on.
We reached the rooftop at last. The city sprawled before me, illuminated in flickering lantern light and the mountain’s collapse devouring the horizon.
From here, I could see more clearly. The naked knight, Dunny, and Fitch were nowhere in sight, but flashes of magic pulsed from the building across the street—wards flaring, desperate incantations. Good. They’d found their hole to die in.
The Man in White remained below, a single white figure framed in dust and fire, his laughter sharp, triumphant, echoing against the collapsing streets.
And Salem—faithless, fearless Salem—kept still behind him, a lone shadow, his head tilted slightly upward as though awaiting judgment.
I clutched Rodrick tighter. His blood was warm against my chest, his breath shallow, his swollen face pressed against my collar.
I whispered curses into his hair, furious at him for bleeding on me, for breaking himself again, for leaving me to carry both his weight and my own. Nara whimpered beside me, little sobs clawing at his throat as he wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve.
And then—then the world ended.
The landslide crashed into the first buildings, a tide of stone and molten fire surging through the streets. It swallowed homes, towers, marketplaces, whole districts vanishing in an instant as the avalanche pulverized them into dust.
The roar grew louder, louder still, until it wasn’t a sound anymore but a living thing, a beast made of earth and fury, devouring everything in its path.
It hit the Man in White first. His figure vanished instantly, swallowed whole, Salem’s silhouette disappearing a second later. No scream. No protest. Just...gone.
And then it hit us.
The building trembled beneath my feet, the wood groaning, splintering as the tide slammed against its base. The rooftop lurched, tilted, and in that moment, Nara turned. His tear-streaked face twisted toward me, his eyes wide, searching mine for something—hope, salvation, anything at all.
And then he fell.
The floor beneath him crumbled, snapping like parchment, and his delicate frame vanished into the churning tide below. His cloak fluttered once, his dagger flashing briefly in the firelight, and then he was gone, swept into the ruin.
"No!" I screamed, the sound ripped raw from my chest, but there was no time to reach for him, no time for anything at all.
The rest of the building collapsed. And with one last, furious curse spat at the heavens, I let myself fall.
I smiled as the debris swallowed me. Because if this was to be my end, then at least I would meet it with teeth bared, wit intact, and defiance carved into my grin.