Chater 46: Blood, Fire & Shadow (7) (Patreon)

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***

“That’s why you always cast [Virgil’s Guidance] and then follow it up with [Memories of Hell: First Circle - Limbo].”

Lock clicked his teeth at the amateur mistake.

But it was too early to say that the situation was in his favor.  Being a mage and higher leveled, Arione would naturally have higher fire resistance than Lock.  Arione’s strategy had been sound; had he succeeded in giving it life, he could have defeated Lock without tapping into deeper resources.  With [Virgil’s Guidance] sealed, most of Arione’s options had been sealed.

The slave-swordsman wasn’t nice enough to wait for Arione to recover.

Lock darted in so fast that Arione hissed in surprise, summoning the mana shield out of reflex more than an actual planned counter-move.  Before the elven-mage could recover from the surprise attack, Lock’s arms blurred in a combination of shield blows and cuts.  The relentless fury of the attack chipped at Arione’s shield; slowly breaking it down.  With each strike, Lock aimed for a fatal blow.

Forehead.

Neck.

Eye.

Nose.

Lungs.

Heart.

More times than Arione could count, Lock’s blade or shield stopped only an inch away from killing him.

Without thinking, Arione created a blade of wind and fired it in close range toward Lock.  Even as the blade left his hands, the elven-mage cursed.  The blade couldn’t hurt Lock and he knew it, it had been a reflex.  Yet that reflex cost him dearly, he had to drop the mana shield, if only for a moment.

Lock’s chain of savage attacks doubled in intensity and Arione found himself creating layers of shields.  The strength behind the slave’s strikes increased and he saw large cracks forming on the translucent frame, straining under the metallic onslaught.  Lock chained a simple thrust into a downward slash, pivoting with his front foot and stepping forward with the other.  The movement gave birth to an uppercut with his shield that slammed into the mana shield, pushing it back.

The elven-mage tried to gain distance but Lock didn’t give him the opportunity.  The wound from earlier, the one to his knee continued to hurt and he couldn’t get proper footing.  Whenever he tried to put his hands together for [Levitate] or [Uplift], Lock would attempt to get around his shield.  From the side, below and even leaping over his shield and threatening to skewer Arione’s head like a meat on a stick with the sword.

He felt his concentration waver, almost slipping on a puddle of sweat.  During the exchange the two continued the deadly dance, except now Lock was on the offensive and Arione was on the defensive.  Meanwhile the ground gave off so much heat that the air bent, turning the environment around them into a warped landscape.  To their eyes the wreckage and buildings were turning in on themselves, the heathaze from Arione’s [Memories of Hell: First Circle - Limbo] continuing to raise the temperature.

Arione hadn’t meant for this to happen.  The spell should have gone off without a hitch and he could have defeated Lock easily.  With [Virgil’s Guidance], the basic spells that Arione had been relying on so far would finally hurt the slave.  Yet he had made the fatal mistake of mixing up the spell order.  It wasn’t like him to make a basic mistake.  Could it be that he was panicking?

He had never fought someone weaker who fought with such tenacity.  Most opponents chose to run away once they learned that he was a grade-2 mage.  Handicapped or not, how long had it been since Arione had been in a real fight with another adventurer?

Lock on the other hand had only fought opponents as strong if not stronger than him.

The slave-swordsman’s combat instincts could sense Arione’s panic.  The elven-mage had exuded a sense of arrogance and calm until now.  But Lock felt it just then –a flicker of emotion, a sense of worry and fear all rolled into one.

The time was now.

Lock suddenly disappeared from Arione’s sight, sinking into shadow.  He had been purposefully hiding [Shadow Blink] after the initial use, taking the elven-mage’s attention off of the ability.  Even when he was in free-fall, Lock could have easily sank into his own shadow once getting ahold of debris.  But he had held on, all for this one moment.

And it worked.

Arione’s blunder plus Lock’s planning had given birth to this moment.

He jumped out of the shadow behind Arione and swung with all his might.  Lock’s vision zoomed into the edge of his blade as it parted the mage’s pale unmarred skin.

A certain death-blow.

Lock had forgotten that they weren’t alone.  Just as Arione had been distracted by the battle, forced to think of a way to defeat Lock without the use of higher-grade spells, Lock had been distracted with trying to defeat Arione with the limited numbers of moves available to him.

Scarlet made hand seals similar to his master and cast one of the most basic moves that a mage can learn.  A simple manipulation of mana, as hard as he could into one direction.

｢ Scarlet has cast [Shove] ｣

It wasn’t a strong spell at all.

But just enough to push Lock’s body back and cause the sword strike to stop just short of cutting through Arione’s jugular.

Lock fell back, his face in a snarl.  He couldn’t believe that he had forgotten about Scarlet.  He should have known that the fight would devolve to a two-on-one.  He readied to jump towards Arione, who was clutching his neck trying to stem the bleeding and swaying.  It was obvious the mage hadn’t been wounded like this in a very long while.

Scarlet landed in front of Lock, his arms spread wide.

“Please… stop… both of you… you don’t have to do this.”

Lock hesitated.  Not because of Scarlet, he could have simply used [Shadow Blink] to get through the mage without hurting him.

He hesitated because he saw Clover jump down from the disc and heal Arione.

All the rage inside of him disappeared.

Where it went, Lock didn’t know.

He lowered his weapons.  Calmly, he watched as Clover placed her hands near Arione’s neck and started to heal.  The wound was deeper than it looked, it took awhile for her to close it completely.  Even after she had, it left an angry red welt of fresh skin afterwards.  Arione stood still, meeting Lock’s gaze without looking away.

“We should get out of this place together…” Scarlet trailed off awkwardly.

Arione had stopped maintaining his Field Spell.  The temperature was starting to die down.

Clover turned and faced Lock.

“Lock…”

She took a deep breath, steadying herself.  “Come with us Lock.  Arione has promised to get us all out of here.  You, me and Lety.  We can be together again.  Safe… Arione can take that manacle off of your neck.”

Clover had watched the battle, her body turned to ice.  Within her mind, she had been screaming but the sound never left her mouth.  Clover had locked herself inside a cage of her own making, the lock made of guilt and the bars of shame.  She felt that she had let everyone down.  Especially Lock.

Kiiiiiyyyyyyyaaaaahhhhhhhhhh

[Mother Centipede] screeched once more and another fresh wave of her children spawned in droves, blotting out the moon and filling the streets.  They had to leave.

“Lock?” Clover insisted once again.  “Come with me?”

Lock stared at Scarlet in front of him, then at Arione who was being supported by Clover.

“No.”  He answered simply.

Some of the fire inside of Arione’s eyes died out, replaced by what Lock recognized as relief.

Clover bit her lip.  Lock’s rejection had hurt her more than she expected, though deep down she knew.  She knew the moment they started speaking that the chasm between them couldn’t be overcome with something as simple as a gesture of good-will.  Somehow, somewhere along the way their paths had split so far apart that it couldn’t come together anymore.

Lock had chosen to pick up and protect.  Clover had chosen to let go and abandon.

Still, she had to try.

“Lock… please?”

“I’m sorry.”

Clover closed her eyes.  She would not cry.  She would not show tears.

“Do you think we’ll meet each other again?”

“...I don’t know.”

“What should I tell Lety when she wakes up?”

Lock had no answer to that.

“The truth.”  He answered at last.  “And that I bid her farewell.”

Clover let out a little laugh.  “That’s just like you.”

She reached towards the Dimension Ring on her finger, the one that Lock had taken from the assassin.  As the beastwoman grabbed it, memories came to her unbidden.  She forced them away, lest it weaken her resolve.  Taking it off of her finger, she threw it towards Lock.  It clanged on the floor, stopping right at his feet.

“Good bye, Lock.”  Clover her back on Lock and walked towards the disc.

Lock did not reply.

Scarlet lowered his arms, his expression unreadable and followed after the pink-haired beastwoman.

Only Arione and Lock remained.

But the battle was over, both felt it.  Their muscles had grown cold and so had their desires for blood.  Slowly, Arione took a step backwards and turned to get on the disc with his companions.  But not before mouthing just two words to Lock with a smirk.

‘I win.’

Lock closed his eyes in defeat.  He had wanted to kill Arione, make the elven-mage suffer but he couldn’t even land one good blow.  All he did was waste his own time and strength.

No.  This fight wasn’t over yet.  Lock refused to let it end like this.

There were other ways to cut a man.

Arione’s whole flippant attitude, the arrogance typical of mages and his status as a [Player].  The way he had treated the lives of the orcs as things just to get at the slave.  It screamed of the type of man that Arione was.  A man starved for control, a man who had felt threatened by a slave who still had a manacle around his neck.  The mage had tried to kill Lock… for what? To walk away with Clover? Was that it? Was that his motive?

“How pathetic.”  Lock whispered.

Arione stopped walking away.

“How does it feel to lose? To someone who’s been in this world for less than a month?”

Something happened just then.  Lock could hear Arione’s breath quickening, he could smell Arione’s fear.  He felt the hair on his arms rise in response to Arione’s signals.

Lock didn’t need his sword to hurt Arione.

The man was afraid of him.

He could cut him with a breath.

“I’m going to come for you, you know.”

He sensed Arione’s disturbed emotions spill out in a wave.  Fear permeated the air and Lock could see Arione fighting the urge to flee.

“Oh, not right way.  But I’ll take years from now.  Perhaps you won’t have Scarlet or Clover around by then.  Perhaps you’ll have different comrades, perhaps you’ll be alone.”  Lock lowered his voice, speaking softly.  “It must be both humiliating and terrifying.  Losing to me I mean.  How will you explain it to them? To anyone? You said you loved this world?”

“Why? It’s full of monsters, misery and death.  Was your old life in the real world not to your liking? Was beating this world your ticket to being normal? To start over?”

Lock felt it when Arione’s stomach twisted itself into knots at the words ‘old life.’

Lock gave a harsh laugh.  

“Did you think your life in this world would be different? Filled with people who loved you? Those who would trust you and depend on you? Is that why you love this world? Because you know a couple of cheats to become powerful and can buy friends?”

Lock touched upon his own doubt and pain, adding weight to his words and crushing Arione underneath them.

“Nothing’s changed for you.”  He said nonchalantly.  “I saw the way they looked at you.  She hates you, you know… I can tell.  And your apprentice? He’ll never trust you ever again.  In the end… it’ll be the same as before.  Them whispering behind your back… while you spent the rest of your life looking over your shoulder.”

“Because don’t worry I won’t let you be alone for too long.  And when we meet next time… ”   Lock delivered the final blow with a breath.  “Next time… I’m going to kill you.”  

Arione couldn’t help it.

He shuddered.

The mage felt it in his bones.  Lock was right.  They’d never trust him ever again.

He’d be alone again.  

Just like before in the real world.  

And Lock Slaveborn…

If left alone… if he didn’t do something about Lock Slaveborn right now, the time would come when he could use every spell he knew, every item in his possession, call in every favor, and still be unable to stop the man.  His 10 years of surviving in this world told him that Lock Slaveborn was dangerous and that the slave needed to die here and now.

But as ashamed as he was to admit, Arione was afraid of the man.  He didn’t want to turn around. 

Instead, Arione condensed his Mana Cores, for just a second and then transmuted them to a higher purity; a requirement for casting Grade-1 Spells.  He couldn’t cast it even if he wanted to –he did not possess enough mana or mastery– but just preparing the mana was enough.

The mage sensed three different beings shift their attention in this direction.

Lock’s mana sense wasn’t refined enough to catch what Arione did.

“Lock Slaveborn.”  Arione’s voice trembled.  “You won’t.”

Arione got on the disc with the others.  The magical construct blurred as Scarlet cast [Shimmer Weave] and soon Lock couldn’t feel their presence any longer.

They were gone.

And he was alone.

He picked up the Dimension Ring and put it on his hand.

Lock Slaveborn would have to find another Priestess to heal his wounds.

He began to run towards the eastern side of the city, where his other companions were waiting for him.

Unbeknownst to him, he had lingered too long in the spot where Arione had resorted to his underhanded measure. A single monster flying towards Samak City, drawn by the [Mother Centipede], grew curious and decided to investigate.

And a more sinister pair of eyes, glowing white like the moon itself, stalked Lock from the shadows.

***

Jason thrust his dagger into the cold body of the Orc Chieftain.

The centipedes attached to his body were greedily feeding on the corpse –mandibles ripping off pieces of meat with reckless abandon– and the man himself continued to stab it long after the soul had left the body.  Contrary to what people might have expected from the Akka Xalud Scion, his eyes were flat and calm.  He repeated the stabbing motion with eyes like that of someone licking envelopes again and again –deadened emotions and muscle memory.

Finally satisfied, Jason stood up.

Maria had stopped playing the [Centipede Flute], a Singularity Item from their father’s vault.  As a result, [Mother Centipede] couldn’t do more than simply make an appearance.  Her appearance itself had been deadly enough, bringing a swarm of lower-grade monsters that had devastated the city.  Their forces had taken some losses too but it was worth it.

Samak City was theirs.

Using this as the base of operations, the Akka Xaluds would revive the slave trade; albeit under the control of the Turina Empire and their Great House.  The family could also take control of the nearby dungeons and monster zones, another ground to farm precious monster materials and Cores.  Soon, the Zimmskar Kingdom would hear of what transpired here and demand retribution but it’d be too late.  By this time next year, Jason planned to have this city fortified enough to defend it from a full-scale attack.

Only then would the Turina Empire start enslaving the beastman once more.

Bit by bit, they would fan the flames of war.  The Akka Xaluds wasn’t the only family working on that front.

The Vetilius to the south-east, placed near the Jayu States and its treasures behind their borders; Delirious Jungle, Babel Towers and many more self-ruling lands without a greater power to guide them onto the proper path.  Once the Empire could gain control of that region, they could raise an army of barbarians, mages and many others.

“Brother.”  

Maria’s voice brought Jason out of his musings.  Now wasn’t the time for him to ponder about his role in the upcoming war.  He had claimed Samak City and would likely be placed as its warden.  It was a time to celebrate.

“Maria, call back the [Mother Centipede].  We no longer have any need of it.”

“Understood.”  She answered, then bit her lip hesitating.  “We lost the other one.”

Jason frowned and two of his centipedes hissed at once another, venom dripping off of their forcipules.  They didn’t have eyes per se, but faced each other.  The two tugged at his skin and he felt the odd sensation of bits of his skin ripping.

“It is of no consequence.  He is too weak to do anything and fleeing from this battle speaks to his courage.”  

The orc that Maria was referring to had been the one next to Warchief Thoktur when he arrived.  He had been strong enough to hold the men at bay but not enough to get through them and stop Maria from playing the [Centipede Flute].  However, because his men were occupied Jason was forced to face the warchief alone.  Not that it mattered, the Scion knew that defeating the warchief past his prime was a given.

He had his sights set higher than that.

“And what of the mage? Will you truly let him go? People will talk and if the church finds out-”

“The Church has other matters to deal with.”  Jason glanced at her.  “And the only other person other than me who knows about the mage is you, dear sister.”

Maria’s breath caught in her throat at Jason’s hidden threat.  She bowed her head.  “Understood brother.”

“I will keep my word to the mage.  He may become a useful pawn.”  Jason would have to deposit the funds at the nearest adventurer’s guild into Arione’s account under a fake name.  Easy enough to do.  

He waited as Maria picked up the flute, ready to dismiss the [Mother Centipede].  Afterwards she’d be spent, unable to do anything else while recovering her strength.  That was the price of using such a powerful Singularity.  Maria had been all but useless in battle, keeping the monster from awakening fully.  But it was worth it. Without the centipede swarm, they could never have taken the city so fast.

Maria put the flute to her lips and began to play the song.  

Above them, [Mother Centipede] slowly retreated into the clouds and many of her winged children went with her.

The city was theirs.