The Distinguished Mr. Rose Chapter 38: Chapter 38: Ogier the Berserker

Read chapter 38 of The Distinguished Mr. Rose by QuiteTheSlacker on NovelPedia.

Chapter 38: Ogier the Berserker Lucius had seen all sorts of souls before, from the cowardly to the bold, the big and small alike, but none of them exuded a presence quite like this man: Ogier. The giant. A bearded raider of short sword and fury. He wore not the bulky armors of metal like the other paladins, but instead bared his round belly for all to see, jutting above a sloppily-buckled leather trouser that just barely fit within his stocky frame. His muscles were large: his gut even larger. He was built like a strongman who had, perhaps, just a bit too much to drink. Ogier swayed and drunkenly stumbled forward. His eyes were blood-shot red, face twisted into an expression of bitter grudge. One glance at his figure then was enough to send a shiver down the players’ spines. He resembled more a terror than even the demons. “Earlier than usual,” the man uttered, voice low and seeped in a cold, venomous bite. “Come to greet the otherworlders, hm? So be it. Let them see you as the curs you are.” The abstract monsters descended upon the Peer without hesitation. They laughed as they threw themselves against his body, and they laughed even still when he sucked in his breath, flexed his muscles, and stomped the earth. A shockwave blew through, ripping the things apart in a whirlwind. The ones who remained had not the chance to retaliate. Ogier raised his short sword and cut them down, effortlessly, as if culling wheat. In his eyes was a dullness all too used to the sight before him. But where one demon fell, hundreds more would take its place. There was no consciousness or strategy in their movements. All they sought to do was overwhelm everything within their endless swarm of ink and paint and unintelligible collage. They were just so colorful and vibrant compared to the bleak atmosphere, so much so that Lucius had to suppress a laugh. It was darkly humorous in a morbid way. The demons were not serious whatsoever; they were actually quite silly. Ogier didn’t seem to appreciate their whimsicalness, however. He gargled his throat and then spat out a glob of spit. “Come, Cortain,” he said, speaking to his sword. “Our guests are watching. Let us sate their boredom.” Toward the guard and down the hilt, a scarlet jewel served as the short sword’s pommel. But as Ogier raised his weapon up high, it began to move . It thumped and pulsed, contracted and tightened, as if it were a living, beating heart. Ogier opened his hand, and then clenched the jewel. His face grew hot; steam wafted from the quickly-evaporating sweat pouring out from his glands. The man’s light skin soon flared into a dark red, spreading from his chest, to his limbs, and even the top of his head. He moaned and growled. His body shook, struggling to control the spasms raging within. When every inch of his being had succumbed to the bloody hue, he flung his head back, and bared his teeth in a snarl. The man known as Ogier was gone. Now, all that remained was instinct and pure savagery. A berserker of which only carnage could satisfy. The demons lunged after him; they surged forth in a current of hungry maws. But it took not a second before they were all annihilated, their bodies sundered raw. Ogier hurled his body forward and spun, blazing a trail through the demons in a whirling cyclone. All that stood in his path were ripped apart, piece by piece, and sent flying into the air in streams. It was like a liquid rainbow: falling, falling, drenching the world below in an ugly palette of muddling color. Lucius couldn’t even see the man anymore amidst all the corpses. Ogier fought back the horde without care for his well-being. Or rather, he didn’t need to. No demon could pierce his flesh. They couldn’t get close enough to lay an appendage on him. He cut and diced, slaughtered and maimed: crushed, pulverized, mutilated, severed. This and all he continuously wrought, until he had single-handedly butchered half of the invading forces all by himself. In the end, he alone stood at th