He then sighed softly and addressed Sebastian saying:
[You should have led with that from the onset.
Nevertheless, you put up a good fight, little worm.
However, in the end, you should have known the likes of you could never hope to beat one as supreme and chosen as me.
Why the sudden change of heart?
Surely, you didn't think you were ever going to escape this fight with your life?
It is laughable that you ever entertained such a pathetic hope.
I will grant you a few moments to enjoy the cool air of New Darkovia until you take me to your master.
However, make no mistake; immediately your task is done, I will swiftly extinguish your life, as you are living on borrowed time; my time.
So walk, worm, and take comfort in knowning that you are living your final, fleeting breath.]
Sebastian groaned on the floor, barely able to move his limbs, his face marred with multiple destroyed bones and his teeth crushed by the immense force of one of Diego's blows. Instead of blood, a hazy, electric-blue energy sputtered from his broken jaw, creating an eerie, blurry aura that shimtmered around his shattered features.
With jagged teeth and a severely weakened body, he managed a broken rasp: [Y… Yesss…, I will lead you … to my lordship… at the expense… of my life…]
***
Sebastian felt immense pain—or perhaps it was more accurate to say he felt nothing at all, a hollow numbness where his senses should be.
The events leading Sebastian to being in this mangled state was a bizarre, almost farcical situation; rarely did a soul vampire dismantle a high-ranking death knight using nothing but raw, physical strikes. Throughout the sprawling, dark city of New Darkovia, Death Knights were feared for possessing skeletal structures far denser than those of conventional soul beings.
While liches and vampires occupied a similar power tier, a Death Knight in full command of his attributes, weaponry, and necrotic aura was considered an immovable fortress. Their specialized bone density provided a nearly impenetrable defense, making Diego's feat of shattering that marrow-reinforced plating with his bare fists an anatomical impossibility that defied the established laws of the undead hierarchy.
However, Diego defied all common sense when he struck Sebastian. While the sheer force contained in his initial punch was supreme enough to pierce Sebastian's hide, the final ten blows were not intended merely to shatter bone.
Given Sebastian's current wretched state—a ruin that no ordinary Death Knight would suffer even under immense power—it was clear Diego didn't just strike his body; he sought to systematically dismantle his very essence.
He aimed the first five blows with surgical precision toward the fragile, volatile energy nodes connecting Sebastian's physical form. Then, with that same relentless force, he struck a second time, worsening the wounds beyond what was thought possible. With the internal energy pathways severed, the power flowing within Sebastian had no conduit; it turned inward, shriveling him into a dry, husky shell and etching jagged new scars across his very marrow.
If the agony Sebastian felt when Diego's bone-crushing strikes landed was intense, then what he experienced now transcended mere physical sensation; he was no longer just feeling pain, he was inhabited by it, an anatomical prisoner to a relentless, throbbing consciousness that redefined his very existence. As the punches finally receded and Sebastian was granted a hollow moment of reprieve, he lay sprawled on the cold ground in a state of shattered exhaustion.
He made no attempt to find a more comfortable position—partly because his motor functions had failed him, but also because the mere impulse of movement ignited a white-hot flare of suffering. He felt he had endured such profound physical trauma that his own nerves had turned traitor, his body rejecting his will as it buckled under the weight of its own destruction.
However, when Sebastian remembered the plea and the bargain he had struck with Diego moments ago, he knew he couldn't remain motionless on the ground for long. With a staggering display of will and what remained of his waning resolve, he began circulating the energy within his body for one singular purpose: healing.
The process was nothing like what he remembered. Now, attempting to mend his broken form was agonizing—a sharp, invasive sensation that differed entirely from the dull throb of his injuries. As he forced the volatile essence to bridge the gaps between his severed nodes, the friction against his mangled internal circuitry felt like liquid fire coursing through veins of shattered glass.
With his energy pathways disjointed and separated from their natural flow, the act of reconstruction became a battle of endurance. Yet, as he actively forced his internal reserves to knit together those broken nodes while simultaneously drawing from the atmosphere to replenish his spent stores, a new, terrifyingly distinct kind of pain began to take root.
It was a pain that granted him a faint sense of relief—a respite that vanished as quickly as it arrived. This brief solace stemmed from the soothing, iridescent energy he channeled to reroute his disjointed pathways, yet the agony returned the moment those channels buckled under the strain of his will. Every time he attempted to fuse the fractured circuitries back together, the pathways hissed with defiance.
This was a new, paradoxical suffering; rather than the agony intensifying with his efforts, the act of generating the healing process acted as a temporary anesthetic. As he successfully bridged the gaps, the jagged edges of his nerves were replaced by a sublime, honeyed warmth that radiated through his core. However, each time his concentration slipped and the connection failed, that warmth retreated into the void, leaving him to crash back into a cold, sharpened reality of pain.
However, Sebastian wasn't suffering this agonizing refinement in vain; slowly yet steadily, his internal energy pathways were migrating back to their corresponding positions. As the severed channels were painstakingly reconstructed into a cohesive network, a long moment passed until his internal flow finally stabilized.
Yet, just as Sebastian attempted to channel this newfound reservoir of power toward his shattered legs, a shadow loomed over him. Diego stepped forward, his voice cold and devoid of empathy as he commanded:
[Get up! And lead the way.]
It seemed Diego had been watching Sebastian fumble while trying to restore the very pathways he had destroyed. The moment Diego noticed the restoration was successful, he approached—deliberately closing the distance before Sebastian could even begin to heal his own shattered body.
Sebastian winced, suppressing a sharp curse as he forced himself to stand on mangled legs. He glared at his adversary, inwardly seething at Diego's calculated cruelty; the soul vampire was clearly denying him even a fleeting moment of respite to bring his physical form back to optimal condition before the no doubt agonizing trip to where Maru resided.