Chapter One Hundred and Nine - 109 (Patreon)

Enjoy!

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"Well well well, look who's come back. An with his doggie, too."

Felix had stepped out into the alley, straight toward the body. He hadn't even realized he'd moved. He blinked his eyes, attempting to banish that staccatto rhythm from his head. Mehren was sizing him up, wielding a new mace that shimmered slightly with an obvious enchantment.

"Been lookin fer you, hero," Mehren drawled. "My boys and me ain't been happy since we met."

"Maybe you should see other people, then." 

"What?" Mehren's mind visible turned as he thought of Felix's words, but then just ignored it. "We owe you a debt, I think. The boss wasn't pleased to hear his best earner got got by some no name idiot. Now's I got this."

He brandished his mace, which flared into fire as it swung in a tight arc. Felix felt his chest clench, and Pit growled beside him. Had to be fire, huh?

"Yeah, be afraid! We're gunna gut ya and your dog." Mehren smiled nastily. "Boys!"

The came at him. No hesitation.

Two rushed forward, clearly Agility focused fighters, each armed with long daggers. The two inch deep water splashed backward, as if they were tiny speedboats. The other four more more ponderous, their heavy but powerful steps sending gouts of water with each stride.

Stone Shaping!

Stone Shaping!

Stone Shaping!

While the Agility fighters were fast, they weren't running-on-top-of-the-water fast, which meant they had to touch the ground. Sounding the pattern of his Skill, Felix abruptly raised a series of spikes in front of them, randomly spaced. Both of the enforcers went down, hard.

You have defeated Javyn!

You have gained XP!

The first simply impaled himself. The second one wasn't as hurt, and rolled to his feet with ease, but was immediately cut down by near-invisible blades of wind Mana.

Pit's Wingblade is level 20!

Pit has defeated Neman!

You have gained XP!

Felix didn't flinch, having felt Pit's mounting anger, and he only felt the barest flicker of regret. They brought this on themselves.

Another one leaped through the air, sending a geyser of water shooting upwards as he angled a perfect parabolic arc toward Felix. The man's body twisted like a gymnast's, before rapidly plunging downward, feet first. Felix was only just able to get his arms up to block it, and the Human's boots hit him like a ballista bolt. The ground beneath groaned and then broke, dropping several inches and sent up a spray of foul water. Before Felix could even counter-attack, the man somehow rebounded off of his arms, reversing his direction and sending Felix stumbling two steps back.

Jasim, a previously encountered enforcer, was there. He jabbed at Felix with huge metal gauntlets covered in spikes. Felix dodged back, the sharpened steel so close he could feel the chill of the metal. Felix bobbed and weaved through Jasim's attacks, leaning on his Primary Stats and his Apprentice Tier Dodge Skill.

"Hold. Still. You. Shit!" Jasim was panting as he threw one wild strike after another, but Felix didn't answer. What was the point? Anything he said would be wasted breath, not only ignored but actively fought against. A prickling heat washed over Felix's skin, tingling the nape of his neck as he ducked beneath a wild backhand. He saw two more come at him from either side, heavily muscled idiots wielding axes and a pair of bolo sticks.

Growling in frustration, Felix kicked Jasim in his leading knee. It shattered with a pleasing, meaty crunch and high pitched screams of pain. Focus lost, Jasim's gauntlets shimmered and disappeared. Felix grinned.

The bolo-boy surged forth, metal studded batons twirling for Felix's head and chest. At the same time, a hand axe was launched from the other enforcer. 

Reign of Vellus!

Shouting in fury, Felix unleashed a blast of kinetic lightning, the power raw and unshaped. An orb of lightning burst from him in all directions, catching the bolo sticks and axe in midair and reversed them. Bolts of electricity cascaded into the water, and the three heavys suddenly seized as physics took over. The alley, shadowed by the tall tenements around them, was lit up in a wash of blue.

Felix turned toward Mehren and his Half-Ogre associate, and he could feel his eyes burning bright.

"The Fiend!" The bouncy enforcer cried out from an elevated perch. Felix flung his hand at the man, sending a Shadow Whip outward. The whip moved too quickly for the fighter to evade, and it smashed into his neck and back, sending him hurtling down into the water.

Mehren and the Half-Ogre, Claude, looked at each other and then at Felix. All of their men were down, though most were still alive. Felix bared his teeth and stepped toward them.

"Why are you messing in my business! Who are you, ya freak?" Mehren held his mace out in front of him. The fire enchantment burst brighter, sending out streamers of orange vapor as if warding him away.

Felix didn't answer as he walked closer through rain. He didn't care anymore. He was done holding back.

Mehren screamed, his eyes wide and mouth a frenzied grimace. He charged, and so did Felix.

Windblades suddenly flashed across the crooked alley, each one slicing into one of the fallen enforcers. Death notifications blinked at Felix as Pit dispatched the rest of them. Mehren shouted and brought his mace the side with both hands, as if it were ten times heavier and long as a greatsword. As they sped toward each other, the thug swung hard.

Stone Shaping!

Mad as he was, boiling even, Felix knew enough to avoid that damn enchantment. With a sharp gesture, a pillar was yanked up through the ground beneath Mehren and impacted his forearm. The swing went wild, the rapidly rising pillar forcing the bandit's mace up, into the sky. Less than a second later, a fireball erupted form the weapon, easily ten feet wide. It shot off like a rocket, only to explode less than thirty feet away, sending rings of scorching heat into the crowded buildings nearby.

Influence of the Wisp!

Mehren is Enthralled for 5 Seconds!

Claude resisted Enthrall.

Blue wisplight flared over the both of them, though it immediately guttered out around the Half-Ogre. Mehren, however, began to burn. The giant enforcer roared at Felix before thrusting one of his massive hands toward him. A wave of fetid water surged from beneath Claude and hit Felix at the knees, like a tiny wall. Felix's feet were swept out from beneath him and he landed face first in the muck. 

"Don't mess with the Blades, stranger," Claude rumbled from nearby. Felix pushed against the ground, hurling himself up and back into a standing position, just in time to be hit by three lashing tentacles formed from the trash water.

Felix grunted, but withstood the blows. It was a strong Skill and must have been well into Apprentice Tier. He could see his Health and even Stamina begin to seriously drop for the first time in the fight. He tried dodging and weaving, but the bludgeoning tendrils found him each and every time. Claude was clearly strong, beyond his First Formation with a Skill that could freely manipulate water. Doubt rose in his chest, as the cold manifestations sapped him of Health and Stamina.

Was he too tough to beat?

Felix's hunger bared its teeth at the thought, the base of his skull thrumming with an atonal hum. The rage he had felt before, a kindled flame, burst into an inferno. It didn't matter what the scum could do. He'd destroy the bastard.

Cold Resistance is level 21!

With a weary grunt, Felix forced himself through another knee-level wave. The Half-Ogre's eyes widened as he did so, his hands gesticulating rapidly, probably to adjust his Skill.

"Enough."

Relentless Charge!

Wrack and Ruin!

Corrosive Strike!

Depleting more than a third of his entire Mana, Felix cut through the watery distance between them, and Claude was too slow to keep up. Felix's right arm blasted forward, a near-black orb of powerful acid clenched in his fist and empowered by his boosted speed. The Half-Ogre fell to his knees, arms twitching spasmodically. Claude gaped at him like a fish on land, a sizzling wheeze pouring from the hole in his chest. Whatever Body the Half-Ogre had formed, it was weaker than the Risi.

You have defeated Mehren!

You have gained XP!

Felix bared his teeth over the dying Claude, feeling his eyes burn while his teeth itched and ached. Something plopped into the water, but he paid it no mind, his intense gaze fixed on the gathering horror of the enforcer.

"What are you?" he wheezed, a burbling pop of breath and corroded liquid.

"I'm hungry."

Ravenous Tithe!

Claude burst into a cloud of dense, greasy black smoke filled with streaks of aquamarine. The smoke flowed into Felix, pulled into him with a monstrous inhalation. Then it was gone.

All that was left was the rain.


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The fireball was the first clue that something had gone sideways.

"Oona, what was that?" Aric demanded as they ran forward. He looked at the ochre-skinned Naiad, who had tilted her head as she stared off into the middle distance.

"Fire Mana, Rank I enchantment I-I'm pretty sure," she said, blinking her pale eyes and refocusing on the Iron Rank.

"Shit, what's over there?" Aric looked at Deema, who was fiddling with her staff. The big man, Kelvin was just beyond her, guarding their rear. Who knew what the Inquisition would pull. They had left before it had come to blows, but the Initiate had been ready to put them all to the question if need be. "Deema! What's over there? I told you to study the Dust Quarter!"

"Oh! Uh, that's uh, common folk housing. Well away from most markets and shopfronts." The woman (girl really) gripped her staff tightly. "Likely someone up to no good."

"True enough," Aric admitted. "A Rank I enchantment couldn't be afforded by the people who live here. That means someone else has come into the area to cause trouble."

Oona gasped. "The Butcher?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Aric wasn't convinced the so-called Butcher even existed.

"Then we stop them, right?" Kelvin said, entirely too enthusiastically. Aric had noted that he alone had been ready to fight the Initiate and his Acolytes if it had come to it. Aric could appreciate that kind of battle lust. 

"That's the job. Leif!" Aric called out ahead of them, where his most nimble Tin Rank was acting as scout. "Move ahead and find them. Do not engage!"

Leif smirked and nodded, before he accelerated down the twisting alleyway.

"Kid's gonna get his teeth knocked in one day, smirk like that." Aric grumbled. Then, to the others. "C'mon! We have to move!"


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Nel Zarkas lifted his eyes to the sky. It was overcast, drizzling miserably, and approaching chilly for a summer's morning. His Acolytes muttered among themselves, complaining about the audacity of the Guilders. They had moved further down the muddy thoroughfare after they had chased off the worthless adventurers.

"Quiet!" Nel looked and listened. Special rituals and ancient techniques passed down by their order had enhanced Nel's already System-improved senses to something beyond Human. His Perception pierced the flow of light and sound around them, pushing, prodding. Then, he had it. 

A soft, buzzing strain touched his senses.

Nel gestured to his Acolytes, and all of them came to attention and lined up. The Inquisition was an order of discipline and strength. They followed the High Laws with a zeal only surpassed by the Paladins themselves. However, Nel's order was devoted to one task above all others. The third of the High Laws, that which defended them against the depredations of the rest of the Continent. To seek Purity, and erase the stain of the ancient gods wherever possible.

"We move. Now."

Sorcery was afoot.