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"You seem stumped, swordsman. Did I mishear you? I had thought, through your words, that your ascension to the Sixth Boundary had given you some sort of freedom of mind? I would have expected this to be within your abilities to counter," Ingolsol said, sneering atop his tower.

The stone finished growing, and Ingolsol thrust his sword into it, as he freed his hand up, so that he might once more feel the blood of his wound.

He allowed a good cupful of red to grace his palm, before he flung it outwards, atop the ramparts of the castle that he\'d built. And there, just as they had earlier, spasming in a black liquid that sought life, the blood grew.

For every metre of wall, there was a soldier. And with the castle being the size that it was – enough to easily dwarf what remained of the soldier\'s encampment – there stood an army closing in on a thousand soldiers.

Their bones were white, and their faces were skeletal, but armour graced them, and swords, and battleaxes, warhammers, bows and maces.

"Corpse soldiers?" Tolsey asked. It was the first time he had spoken in a while, and his voice was hoarse as he tried to get the words out.

The very idea seemed to offend Ingolsol. "Do you creatures know no imagination aside from that which Pandora thrusts at you? These are not monsters. These are minions. The birthright of my blood. It has been a while since I was given leave to summon so many."

With that, he drew his sword once more, and he called out a challenge to Dominus. "Use the front gates, won\'t you, mortal? Let us end this, before you fade away."

The Steel gates opened with a crash, as they slammed into the stone walls behind them. They revealed the darkened path towards Ingolsol\'s keep, and they revealed the skeletal soldiers lined up inside of it.

The Dark God was grinning. Beam\'s head was pounding. He saw those golden eyes cast their way towards him, and for a moment, they scrutinised him. Just a moment. But in that moment Beam thought he might have understood the Dark God better. He cared not an ounce whether he won or lost this battle.

He cared not for any of them. It was impossible to tell if he cared for anything at all, but it was easy enough to see that what he craved at that moment was mere amusement.

The thought made Beam\'s blood boil with anger. The thought of their lives being toyed with like that. It was a sharp enough anger to overwrite the pain for a moment. He dragged his head out of Nila\'s hands with a snarl on his lips.

It was pure animalism. Even with his soul as fractured as it was, burned like a man that had just come out of a crawling building, he still found it in himself to feel the familiar tang of rage that had lifted him out of the depths of hell many times before.

He was able to sit upright, even as he felt the blood pour out of his ear. Assailed by an unbelievable dizziness, of the likes that his past dizziness could not even begin to compare to, he steadied his view of the world, and tried to gather his wits about himself.

Everything looked different. Nothing was quite the same as it was before. It was as though he was looking at the world through a different set of eyes. A good sat near him. He thought he should recognize her, and in a sense, that was indeed recognition, but he could not recall her place in the world, or her place to him.

She continually stole glances toward where a group of dead-eyed children stood, still clutching hands in their chains, even though their master had long since lost sentience. They appeared safe from the battle, for Dominus had pulled his dual away from them, but the girl was unable to hide the worry that hung in her eyes.

"Beam…" she said slowly, when she saw that he was up. From how hollow her voice sounded, it seemed as though she too had lost a piece of herself. Others were looking at him as well, all of them as battered as the other.

With the pain that still ran through Beam\'s head, he quickly found himself ignoring them, as he returned his attention to the battle, just in time to see Dominus arrive at the open front gates, and lunge into combat with a flaming sword.

Fifty of those skeletal creatures were blown apart at the same time. It was impossible to tell how strong they were, but Beam figured they were at least stronger than a normal man. But that kind of strength was no use against Dominus.

He made his way up to the top of the walls, and reappeared on the ramparts, the flame of his sword a terrible red, as it cut through hardened steel as easily as papers. He dashed through them all, hardly seeming to pause – but his fuse was burning down all the while, as pieces of himself continued to disappear in black flakes, and his movements grew more dull.

"Very like a mortal," Ingolsol acknowledged, seeing Dominus cleave apart half of his army within the span of a few short moments. "To get lost in doing the repetitive, only to miss the bigger picture."

Beam clenched his teeth. The words annoyed him. He found himself looking around for something. It took him a moment to realize that he wanted a sword. His hand ached. He wanted to get involved in the battle.

He wanted to drive his blade into that arrogant man, who stood atop that tower.

But his arm lacked the strength, even as he filled it with his heart\'s will. He could not even manage to grasp the loose soil that ran next to him, so lacking in strength were his fingers. His sword was nowhere to be seen, and he could not turn for it.