Chapter 134. Beginning of the End (Patreon)

The duo treaded water before the exit of the rift.

“We’ve prepared for this,” Euryphel repeated.

Ian nodded limply. “I know.”

“It’ll take us roughly three hours to reach Selejo if we’re moving carefully, which we will be. We don’t want to arrive early or late.”

“Which is why we waited a few hours, I know.”

Euryphel pointed to the portal. “It’s also why we need to leave now, rather than waiting nervously outside the exit.”

Ian knew they needed to leave, but the second they left...everything would become real. What they did today would have consequences rippling across the entire geopolitical landscape. He couldn’t help the inner voice in his head telling him that he wasn’t ready, that he needed more time.

Euryphel tugged on his hand. “Come on. We can be scared together.”

Ian’s lips curved into a smile. He squeezed the prince’s hand and kicked forward. No regrets, he told himself. This day is happening whether you like it or not.

Ian could barely tell that he’d crossed the threshold, the darkness of the rift carrying over into the Jermal Trench’s depths. Without wasting a beat, he and Euryphel proceeded upward, Bluebird propelling them along just fast enough to allow their suits to handle the decreasing pressure.

Whatever hesitation Ian had within the rift fell away, his thoughts consumed by what they were doing in the moment versus what they were going to do later. When they eventually breached the surface, Ian formed a bone wyrm and lifted himself into its ribcage, Euryphel following behind.

It was almost sunset around the trench, the sun an ember dipping low in the sky. The trench was further south than Gnoste, but it was still a bit chilly due to the wind whipping across the open water. Euryphel created a buffer against the wind for them while they changed out of the wetsuits, revealing form-fitting clothing the prince had brought from the SPU. Ian pulled on his SPU combat vestments while Euryphel donned the uniform of the Crowned Prime, though Ian noticed that all the blue accents had been dyed black.

Once they finished changing, the prince funneled the air to create a tailwind behind the wyrm while smoothing out the air as it flowed over its surface, reducing drag.

Out of caution they continued to speak only over quantum channel. Euryphel primarily mentioned slight adjustments to the wyrm’s trajectory as they went, while Ian was mostly silent.

“We’re entering the airspace over the Ramsay Channel,” Euryphel noted. “Let’s increase altitude even further. It’ll be hard to breathe for a bit, but I’ll try and increase the air density around us as best I can.”

Ian directed the wyrm upward through a cold, wet cloud. He began to shiver but pressed on, relying on the prince to control the wind and protect them against turbulence. Ian began to feel light-headed but tried to regulate his own oxygen consumption, forcing himself to breathe in slowly and deeply. Euryphel compressed pockets of air around their mouths, counteracting the thinness of the air.

“Can’t do this forever, but we only need to be this high up until we’re past Fassar and enter the Bay of Ramsay. Then we’ll be nearly at Magnestria...right when the descendant will have landed.”

Ian swallowed. Once they hit Magnestria, they needed to attract Ari’s attention and draw her to Cunabulus...breaking whatever End arrays existed in Selejo’s Palace–the Cuna–while somehow avoiding civilian casualties.

Of course, Ian had to find a way to not only stay alive, but kill Ari as well...and while he hadn’t been idle in his preparations, the longer he spent in silence on the wyrm, the more he doubted his ability to perform.

“What are you thinking about?” Euryphel asked, peering over.

Ian sighed. “I’m worried about Achemiss.”

The prince frowned. “You don’t think he’s going to uphold his side of your deal?”

“I don’t know what he’s going to do to intervene,” Ian explained. “He said that he’d block Ari’s first blow, but...what if Ari starts to rampage and destroy everything anyway?”

“It’s not going to help worrying about it.”

“I know.”

As the continued flying, Ian grew increasingly restless. “Shouldn’t we have been intercepted by now?” he asked, mind gravitating to the twenty-or-so contingency plans Euryphel prepared for this leg of the trip.

“Plan A was assuming we wouldn’t be detected for most of the trip,” Euryphel replied. “It was the best case scenario, but also the most probable: The Eldemari’s people can’t patrol foreign waters in large numbers, nor can they cover the entirety of the sky, especially so high up. As soon as we get within thirty minutes of Selejo, I bet things will get more interesting.”

They began to descend once they left the Ramsay Channel and entered the open Bay of Ramsay. Euryphel took in a deep breath of air and exhaled sharply, stretching his arms.

“Finally,” he transmitted. “Thought that would never end. Filtering and compressing the air for so long was more tiring than I expected, even after practicing in the rift.”

“How long do you think it’ll take before we’re discovered now?” Ian wondered.

Euryphel’s lips creased into a firm line. He stared out between the gaps in the wyrm’s ribcage, the wind tugging tendrils of unbound hair around his jaw. “Not very long. I can see arrows patrolling in the distance. I’d give it two minutes at most.”

“Great.”

“You know what to do,” Euryphel said, snorting. “I’ll handle them further off. If they get close, knock them out. Keep the shield up. Seriously, Ian, we’ve practiced this: Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried.”

Thirty seconds later, Euryphel pointed forward and to the left. “We’re going to be detected in forty seconds. The group consists of a dual Life and Remorse practitioner, a wind elementalist, two water elementalists, and a Dark practitioner. Life-Remorse is competent but has limited range; she’s primarily Remorse, so prepare yourself. Wind elementalist isn’t my match, but the Dark practitioner is as powerful as General Var’dun’a.”

“What about the water elementalists?”

“Nothing to worry about. First priority is Life-Remorse followed by Dark; I’ll handle the elementalists.”

Ian nodded and waited for Euryphel’s signal.

“Shields all the way up,” the prince commanded, summoning a gail of wind around his hands.

The wyrm flared with violet-pink light, its eye sockets shining like beacons. A shroud of oily darkness coalesced around it like battle armor, shifting like cloth but bearing the guise of heavy plate. Around Ian alighted a mantle of darkness similar to what he wore at the Fassari Summit. Every inch of him was covered in a mesh of reinforced bones studding shadowy black. He encased his head in a helmet of white bone, tendrils of energy snaking around eyes that glowed violet. Behind him floated a cape of illusory black only visible to those with the ability to see vitality.

At the center of his chest under interlocking plates of energy-woven bone was the egg-shaped soul gem. Perched on a shoulder pad was Bluebird, its wings folded vertically such that it looked like a piece of paper when viewed from the front. Ian thought the bird looked a little goofy with its binocular eyes in contrast to his admittedly intimidating get-up.

“I always said you cleaned up nicely,” Euryphel observed lightly.

Ian cracked a grin, not that the prince could see it behind the helmet cum mask. “Just getting started.”

He waved a hand lazily forward and a stream of bones erupted out from his void storage, circling around the wyrm. Threads of sticky Death energy formed between them, soon encompassing the wyrm in a cocoon. The cocoon expanded out and reinforced itself, increasing numbers of bone shards filling the surrounding area.

As a final gesture, Ian created wraiths of energy around the periphery of the Death cocoon. They lashed out with talons of sharpened white, mouths of serrated animal teeth open in ravenous rictus.

“They saw us the second you started making the cocoon,” Euryphel observed. “Their Life practitioner doesn’t have very good range, but she wouldn’t miss something so eye-catching even at a distance.”

“That’s fine. She was going to notice us in a matter of seconds anyway.”

Ian still couldn’t see the patrol, nor could he clearly see Euryphel’s attack, but he did note how the prince gesticulated with his hands as he shaped the wind.

“Where are they?” Ian asked, growing slightly impatient. Even as he directed the wyrm onward, he couldn’t see their assailants.

“They ducked underwater once they realized their wind elementalist wasn’t a match. You should be able to make out their vitality in a few seconds, though they’ll still be out of your range.”

Ian suddenly had an idea. “Not if I play at fishing.”

Euryphel grew silent for a moment. “Wait...you can do that?”

Ian chuckled softly, trying to imagine what the prince was seeing. “I take it my fishing attempt is successful?”

“It is, but if you use it here you’re going to lose the element of surprise. I’d wait until you really need to use it.”

“Fair point. I first used the bone whip to extend my range and immobilize Judith when I was going to the rift. Zilverna saw but...he died soon after. I don’t think he’d remember.”

“Is this technique how you managed to move the leviathan?”

Ian almost couldn’t believe they were calmly discussing techniques while engaging the enemy. To be fair, it’s helping to ease my nerves. “In a sense. I was never able to extend the range of my practice through a physical medium before.”

“What changed?”

Ian frowned, his mind wandering to an imperious figure birthed from a rainbow rose and surrounded by golden wings. “I think...it’s related to devouring the soul.”

“That one Soolemar gave you? Makes sense.”

A few more seconds passed before Ian could finally detect the vitality of the people in the water. He sent a few projectiles of bone to pepper the water, whipping out of the Death cocoon like arrows. Euryphel added spin and speed with a gust of wind, increasing their piercing potential.

“Their Dark practitioner is a defensive juggernaut,” Euryphel pointed out, frowning. “I think the best move to force them out of the water where I can heckle them is to keep going. They won’t just let us get away.”

In essence, Ian didn’t need to do anything but maintain the wyrm’s current direction and speed.

“Okay, we’re going to run up against three other patrols congregating to our location.”

Ian snorted. “What did we expect once the first one found us?”

Euryphel rolled his eyes. “We’re well within contingency D right now. Keep going. If it grows to more than fifty people in pursuit we can gear up to contingency F.”

Ian’s brow furrowed. “Which one was F?”

“Construct hell.”

“Got it.”

The growing number of pursuers kept a cautious distance. Ian knew that they’d have Regret practitioners of their own in the field and ashore to guide their strategy. The fact that Euryphel was fairly quiet combined with their pursuers' reticence to get anywhere close to Ian’s known range suggested that the enemy was still lacking the power necessary to deal a decisive blow.

“They’re waiting for someone,” Ian transmitted coldly. “By your latest estimates there are no less than four of the Eldemari’s personal guard in pursuit, all of them peak practitioners. It’s still not enough, so they’re waiting...”

“It can’t be a fire elementalist sniper,” Euryphel reasoned. “They have enough firepower to give our pursuers a critical opening, but I’d be able to avoid their remote onslaught with Regret.”

“Should we go with contingency F, then?” Ian suggested.

Euryphel bit his lip. “Yes...you can’t go easy on these people, though: Fight to kill, not incapacitate.”

“I know.”

“Then why do I see you repeatedly knocking people out in my scenarios, Ian?”

The necromancer didn’t have a response. “It was probably just the weak practitioners.”

“No, it was all of the people you engaged,” Euryphel retorted. “You can’t afford to play nice only to have the enemy resuscitate and come back. People are going to die today, Ian, and it’s going to be your fault: You need to accept it.”

Ian exhaled a tired breath. “Understood. Now, should I commence F?”

Euryphel sent out a blast of wind behind the wyrm, swatting an over-eager practitioner that strayed slightly too far from his defensive group. At the speed he’d been flying, he’d be out of action after hitting the water. The prince turned Ian’s way and gave him a firm nod. “Go.”