KESM: Terra Quatuor Chronicles

Sabbath had died.

Or so the Fiend thought. 

The Cumulodrake's colossal tail had struck true, tearing into Sabbath's chest in an instant. Blood flowed from the gaping wound, staining the cracked earth beneath his feet, even seeping from his mouth, his teeth painted red. His heart had stilled, his breathing faltered, and his body swayed perilously on the edge of collapse. 

And yet, Sabbath stood. 

Everything so far was just barely enough to signal the doom of this Fiend, only limiting the largest parts of its arsenal. In truth, the beast could still create its own charges which were even more potent, and now, faster than the ones that once loomed overhead.

However, Sabbath was nothing, if not calculative and extremely meticulous.

The Fiend recoiled instinctively, its bloodshot eye narrowing as Sabbath raised his gaze — glasslike no more. The gash across his chest was already closing, raw flesh knitting itself together with unnatural precision. A semblance of warmth returned to his recently paled complexion.

The Drake's glee faltered, replaced by a flicker of doubt.

'What drives you, human?' it rumbled, static crackling from its maw. Even though no words had been said, the question reached Sabbath's mind.

"What lets you stand after death has claimed you?" 

Sabbath's lips curved into a bloodied smile. "Conviction." 

The humans had been too cunning, too prepared, too determined. What sort of conviction drove them? They were connected by a bond beyond the water of the womb. They were family, bound by the blood of a covenant. So they gave their bodies to protect each other, and staked their lives on their leader's plans. It had all boiled down to this moment.

With a wave of his hand, the battlefield transformed. A checkered pattern of black and white shimmered across the crater's surface, from Sabbath's location, enveloping the entirety of the crater, within the crater in which they did battle. 

Thirty-two pieces materialized on either side — monolithic constructs manifested, each exuding a fragment of its wielder's soul. 

Having met the requirements for activating the Chessboard, Sabbath said loudly.

"The rules are simple." his voice sharp and unlaboured. "Each piece moves according to its assigned Role, and we can both assume any Role we please, per play. Every "hit" delivered to the opponent or any desired piece is fatal, and the role of said piece is extinguished from the board, severing a piece of your soul in turn. The game ends when one of us runs out of Roles, basically checkmate — or when your soul shatters under the strain." 

After a short pause he continued. 

"An exciting spin on the board, no?"

"Let the game, begin." Sabbath said, stepping onto the board.

***

Thirty- two chess pieces stood across the battlefield within the range of the Chessboard.

The battlefield quaked as the shimmering checkered pattern spread across the crater's surface, anchoring both Sabbath and the towering Cumulodrake within its bounds. The Drake snarled, electricity crackling from its maw as it shifted uneasily, talons scraping the black-and-white tiles. Opposite it, Sabbath stood calm and collected, his raven-black hair swaying in the air, save for its white accents. The eldritch chessboard pulsed with malevolence, each piece gleaming like wraiths with ill intent.

Sabbath spoke, his voice carrying a magnetic cadence that resonated with the unholy rules of his game.

The Drake roared, its challenge shaking the board, sending vibrations rippling through the very fabric of Sabbath's construct. Sabbath's grin widened.

"Let the game begin."

The first piece moved.

A knight surged from the Drake's side, its body a jagged formation of lightning and metal. It galloped forward in a precise L-pattern, crossing the tiles with ominous speed. Sabbath summoned his own piece in response. His knight, a hulking, armored behemoth, moved to intercept.

The clash was instantaneous. The Fiend's knight let out an ear-splitting crack as its electrified lance pierced through Sabbath's piece, shattering the construct into a storm of shards, crumbling on the Chessboard. Sabbath staggered slightly, feeling the loss reverberate through his soul like a splintered chord.

"Bold opener." Sabbath muttered. "But reckless."

The Drake's victory was short-lived. Sabbath's bishop surged across the diagonal, its long blade cleaving the lightning knight in two. The Fiend screeched in pain, visibly recoiling as the energy from its soul fed back into the board.

"Each loss is a piece of yourself, beast. Are you ready to crumble under your own weight?"

The Fiend was quick to adapt. It abandoned subtlety, calling forth its queen — a towering avatar of serpentine might, crowned with electrified horns. Sabbath's pawns and rooks fell in quick succession, their shattered forms crumbling in defeat.

And yet, Sabbath smiled.

Gritting his teeth as another jolt wracked his body, the feedback of broken pieces mounting. Yet, even as the losses piled up, his smile never wavered.

"You're strong," Sabbath admitted, dodging a bolt of energy aimed squarely at his head when he assumed a Role "But strength means nothing without strategy."

His own queen moved, a figure cloaked in black flame, its form pulsating with restrained fury. Sabbath controlled it with precision, using it to bait the Drake's forces into overextension. His queen danced across the board, exchanging brutal blows with the Fiend's pawns and bishops, each skirmish thinning the opponent's ranks.

The visceral toll of the battle became evident as the Fiend's form began to flicker. The strain of lost pieces gnawed at its essence, and its once-pristine scales now dripped with fresh blood. Sabbath wasn't faring much better; his breathing was labored, his posture slightly hunched. But his eyes burned with a manic glee.

"You feel it, don't you?" Sabbath taunted, assuming a Role once more, as a rook. "The erosion of your soul. The weight of your choices."

The Drake roared in defiance, its massive claws crashing down as it assumed the role of a king. Sabbath barely evaded the strike, switching back to a bishop.

His remaining bishop surged forward, slashing a jagged wound to the pawn by Drake's side. Another pawn gone. The Fiend shrieked, recoiling, but managed to obliterate the bishop in a retaliatory strike. Sabbath winced again, the loss of his piece echoing through him like a struck gong.

The board was sparse now, a graveyard of shattered pieces and dissipated energy. Only a handful of roles remained for both players, their respective souls stretched thin.

The Drake's queen advanced again, an unstoppable force bearing down on Sabbath's king, now embodied by the man himself. But Sabbath had been waiting for this.

"Check" he whispered, stepping back just as his queen moved to intercept. The final moves came swiftly. Sabbath's queen — a shadow-cloaked figure wreathed in black flame — engaged the Fiend's queen in a brutal clash. The result was monumental, black fire meeting lightning in a blinding explosion. Both pieces disintegrated in the aftermath, leaving the board momentarily silent.

The explosion of energy left both pieces obliterated, the board now a desolate graveyard of shattered Roles. 

The Drake's king loomed forward, intent on finishing the game with brute force. Sabbath's grin returned, this time with a feral edge.

"mate." he said softly.

The Drake froze, its now crimson eyes darting across the board. Sabbath's last pawn advanced unnoticed to the far end of the board.

The pawn glowed, transforming into a queen — a final gambit that sealed the Fiend's fate. 

The newly crowned queen surged forward, its blade plunging straight through the Drake's core.

The Fiend let out one final, earsplitting roar as its body collapsed, all remnants of its soul sealed into a chess piece. The essence of the chessboard dissolved into ether. Leaving only Sabbath standing amidst the carnage.

Sabbath staggered, his body battered but his frayed soul restored. His smile remained as he looked down at the dissipating remains of the Cumulodrake.

"You played well." he muttered, wiping blood from his lip.

"Good game."

The crater was silent now, save for the crackling remnants of the Fiend's actual body. Sabbath straightened, turning his gaze skyward.

Above, the storm had already cleared, sunlight breaking through the ashen clouds.

The culmination of all these years of suffering, literal blood, sweat and tears. Freedom had been hard-earned — but it was theirs. 

It was done…. they had won.