The second floor had been uneventful the entire trek, their raised guards now slightly relaxed to thank the moment of respite. Undoubtedly, a majority of the cultists who had been guarding the old hideout they had already slaughtered upon their entrance. It thankfully made things easier, at least.
Erviel truthfully, hadn't quite expected how easily frightful the followers of Corruption would have been upon glimpsing him. Nor did he anticipate how quickly that fear would degenerate into an unquenchable hate as they realized what he sought. Clearly assuming such a form was more pointless than he thought. Maybe it was pointless from the very start.
Not like they'd be able to do anything about it once he managed to get a hold of that dragon. After that, they'd only be prolonging the inevitable.
...Maybe he himself was already doing just that.
The hollow buzz of magic had continued to grow with each step, and it showed little signs of stopping. He could feel his form begin to lose consistency as the stone dangling across his chest yearned to unleash its true power from this prison of a body. He'd already fallen behind of the gargoyle legions to clasp a hand around his face.
He'd have no choice at this rate. If it continued like this, if he kept trying to keep this power under wraps like this, he'd probably collapse before they even reached the end of this corridor. And if that happened...
"...Erviel? Are you well?"
He refrained from an outburst as that holy glow appeared by his side, the light torturous as for but a moment, it seemed to lift the fog clouding his soul and muted the bells deafening all else.
Instead he spared a glare towards Ilvir, clenching his maw as he suppressed an urge to curse him to death.
"I'm fine," he lied, the lie feeling as though it stuck to his tongue.
The paladin shook his head, concerned at his shaky voice. "You look... unwell."
"Worry about yourself first." He snarled, voice just above a whisper, before he forced himself to continue forward--anything to keep him away from that goddamn light. Anything to get him closer to that goddamn dragon.
To Erviel's relief, even in his haze it didn't take him long to catch up to Garth and his underlings--the former appearing to comment on something as he drew closer. He paid little mind to the demon's words as he noticed they had emerged from the central corridor into some manner of a courtyard. An open air courtyard from an otherwise underground sanctuary. Despite the surreal change, it was almost peaceful--and clearly had once been a well-kept garden of sorts if the vegetation was any clue.
Yet, awaiting them were another dozen or so cloaked mages in black cross-shaped masks much like the ones who'd greeted their arrival--though the eye at the center of the cross was no longer closed, but open. Clutched tightly within each one's hands was not a tome, but a curious, orb-shaped stone which shimmered between a faint violet to deep crimson color.
"B-Boss! Those stones are…!" One of the gargoyles beside Garth gasped in horror upon glimpsing the light--and many followed after him.
More runic trails snaked along the architecture of the courtyard not unlike the city streets, glowing with a powerful light and pouring outwards from the walls and ground below. That same power poured forth from the glimmering stones within each of the cultists hands. Each one felt the pull at their minds, licking at their souls and begging to be set free. It was an offer they could not refuse, but one they shuddered to contemplate.
Erviel's lavender eyes narrowed as one of the taller of the robed entities strode forth, and almost immediately recognized it was the very same whom he had sighted within the monochrome library. The very same one who'd conversed with that witch.
And if he was here, then so was she. And if that were the case, things might just finish up quicker than expected...
"Guardians of Va'grond!" The leader announced in a feral tone, the hate evident despite his shielded face, "another step forward and you shall be obliterated by the very power you wish to reclaim! Now, you may--"
"Surrender?" Garth finished with a smug grin, stifling his anger. "Gonna pass on that. You crazies have no idea what kinda power you're messing with, do you? Or who you've just royally pissed off."
"You've no cause to negotiate with us, demon," the masked leader's anger rose despite his lowered voice, "you house the Betrayer in your midst," he lifted a clawed hand to point to the small cloaked frame by the towering gargoyle's side, "and she cannot be permitted to survive any longer!"
One of the gargoyles who'd stood stoic beside Erviel reared back, disbelief in his stone-like expression as he turned to his silent leader--and a few more--Ilvir included--echoed him as they processed the words of the cultist. Though, perhaps they were more shocked by said leader's indifference.
"Heh, guess your little gig is up then, eh princess?" Garth's voice tore through the sudden silence as quickly as it settled, gaze lowering to observe the cloaked Corrupted, who gave a quiet, frustrated sigh.
"Guess so."
The power which threatened to break free was no longer worth containing if the form to keep it in check was past the point of maintaining. Maybe it was pointless to have even bothered if it would've ended up reaching its limit so quickly.
...That damned kobold wasn't wrong after all, it seemed.
"Don't worry about it. Should probably take out the trash first anyways." The gargoyle leader flashed his trademark jovial grin, the markings across his stone skin alighting to a blazing crimson as he gestured to his gang. "You know the drill boys! Give these mask-wearing deviants fresh hell!"
"You'll not have the chance, demons!" The cult leader cried, lifting the glimmering stone he held over his head; his cohorts mirroring his actions as they too raised their stones.
All at once, before their adversities could act, a shower of crimson-violet light burst forth from each orb followed by a cascade of ash that clouded the space in front of them. A deep pitch-black smoke which seemed to billow endlessly around them., leaving only the sounds equivalent to tearing flesh and cracking bones to echo through the courtyard.
In unison, the stone legion's flapping wings served to dispel the cloud of shadow that had burst forth--and where the group of mask-wearing cultists and their leader had once stood, rose a horde of obsidian beasts with crimson eyes--masks and scraps of torn robes falling away from their bodies to clatter to the ground in a useless heap to further their ascension.
"Well that's new." Garth deadpanned as he observed the newfound creatures, before a scowl crossed his face. "Wait like hell it is--you're totally ripping off our style! First you come onto our turf 'n now you pull this crap? Now I'm real pissed."
"Bastards have been using these things to enhance Corruption for quite a while…" Erviel muttered, placing the dagger within her cloak as she motioned a nod to the faint glimmer of the orbs which lingered at the beast's torsos. "Pity they make such obvious weak points."
The stone leader shook his head as he readied himself. "Well kiddo, these bastards just mixed that incredibly potent Corruption with our city's mana. If me and my boys can't handle 'em, it's up to you."
Erviel said nothing more, forcing another surge of magic to lengthen her dagger-free hand into a spear-like construct as she had done time and time again; eyes alighting as she took a step forward and angled her sight upon the largest of the beasts--the one which had been the leader--and now the one furthest from her as it leaped backward; a transformed runt now blocking her path toward its alpha.
She had little time to act as Ilvir came up from behind to stand beside her, who spared a quick glance and small smile that made her grunt in frustration as she refrained from attacking him instead.
Gargoyles darted past them from all sides and from above to clash with the lower beasts, and for once, Erviel realized how much she'd be willing to put at risk if it meant getting any closer towards accomplishing her goal.
Not that it would stop her.