Savage Awakening 224. Misty Isle (I) (Patreon)

The world erupted in frost. Thick patches of it raced across the waters, crackled across the air, gathering on nothing. Fat air bubbles rumbled up from below. 

A Monster erupted. Broke the surface, howling a ghastly battle cry.

It was what Zane had seen earlier. A long coiling shape. A chunky serpent body with a wormlike head. It seethed clouds of frost. And as it towered over them, rising farther and farther, it dripped a smoking white slime all over the decks, a ghostly ectoplasm…

Cold billowed out from it in a rush. It shrieked again, a sound to shatter glass. And a wave of Law crushed over them. Ice and Darkness intertwined.

Ghoul Eel (Monster)

Essence Level 268

Zane blinked at it. And it blasted him.

A dirty blizzard crashed over him.

His eyes went red. 

A red moon flared all through him. Rising to meet the blow.

This time he felt it. It didn't hurt him much but he had to stagger a step, grunting, had to work a little to throw it off. This thing knew how to put its heft behind its shots. 

As the beast wound back around for another go, he could tell this one wouldn't just shrivel up like those wraiths. It was much more grounded in the world. And he could feel a stronger aura rippling out from it too—it was quite distinctive. Something like a Godbeast’s. But not quite as thick—strands of power, diluted, an echo of that majesty… 

As the Ghoul Eel swayed there, massive body unfurling, ice crackled the air all around it, creeping over the waters, over the bridge, hissing and steaming… 

Zane narrowed his eyes. 

“Get back,” he said to his friends. “I’ll take care of this.” 

They were already doing it. They could tell there would be a blast radius. 

It came for him again—and this time it wanted to take a chunk of him with it. He stepped back and braced. His broad hands flew up to greet it. 

It hissed once more, fangs bared, Bloodline burning, its freezer of a mouth leaking a smoke stack of winter wind—and lunged.

Zane roared. And caught it right at the moment of impact.

He skidded, gritting his teeth, felt the force ringing out over his flesh, his bone, skin—CLANG!

Essence blasted all over him, ice plumes billowing. As the giant Monster put all its weight into ending him—

He gave a final grunt. And came to a halt a dozen feet back, heels smoking.

He’d caught the beast right by the teeth of it—those great curving fangs. Its mouth was splayed wide open. It tried to ram its mouth closed, hulking muscles down the side of its huge face working furiously. But Zane held it there, eyes narrowed.

His hands were hissing. Burning with his own essence—burning against the bracing cold. Bracing cold and searing hot met right at the line of his skin. And more, too, two huge opposing forces, crushing and widening, coming together, the whispers of a cold Godbeast, and the beating heart of a hot one crashing against each other—it was a lot to take all at once.

His body was more than up to it.

His skin hardly scratched at all. He hardly felt it in his bones either. His muscles showed no bruises. He was smoking a little. But his body held stubborn strong.

There was no tremble to his fists. All the tremble came from that Eel, working all its strength against him, thrashing and hissing—Zane’s fists were iron steady.

He took a deep breath. Flexed. And opened his arms wide. 

He burned a little Bloodline. Just to stoke the fire. Felt cords of thick muscle down his big back lighting up all at once. Engaging with vicious intent. 

The beast’s eyes popped. Its whole head began to shake quite violently—this time not of its own will. There was an enormous ripping sound, the webbing of its mouth, then its scales coming apart, faster and faster, then a shrieking—and blood fountained the air. 

As Zane tore those two huge fangs clean out of its mouth. 

He bellowed. Leaped. Whirled—and slammed down his fists. And one giant icicle of a fang impaled its owner—right through its bulbous eye. The Eel’s head rammed down, shaking the bridge, and stayed there. Nailed deep into the metal.

He landed right on top of the thing, fists clenched, watching the blood shower into the sea. Panting.

That thing made him work a little.

He smiled down at his hands. Dark blood. None of it was his. 

It was nice to see his body finally tested. He had been wondering what it could do now. Only… that was still nowhere near his limit. That thing had not even forced him to use his weapon. 

He wondered how much more he could do. He would soon see. He turned his eyes to the island. And clenched his fists.

*** 

“What was that you said? He’s ‘not out of the woods?!’” hissed Lan Arandor, spittle flying from his white lips. 

“Err—” squeaked Scout Teal. 

“I'm starting to think nothing in this whole damned floor will pose him a challenge!”

“I wouldn’t be so hasty, your Holiness!” said Scout Teal, cringing. “Our scrying abilities ended right at this island—but they did reveal to us inordinately strong power signatures, powers that should not be on this floor—powers sent just for Zane Walker! We believe the Monsters have prepared a nasty surprise for him… if anything on this floor’ll kill him, if not in the final hall, it’ll be right here. On this very island!”

Lan just narrowed his eyes at the scout, who looked like he wanted to shrink into his deerhide boots. At last he snorted. 

“Fine,” he snapped. “But thus far your intelligence has proven remarkably unintelligent, Scout Teal. Should you fail me again I might question whether you're worth your place in our World Tree. You know my distaste for rot.” 

The Scout shivered.

A pause.

“Wait,” said Val slowly. The Prince still sounded rather shrill—he had been brooding in a corner all this time, thinking. “How many times has that brute Leveled since he got to this floor? Three? Four?!”

“Err—”

“Teal! What’s his Leveling talent?” Val demanded. 

The Scout paused. He looked a little uncertain. He looked like he might say so. Then he looked at Lan’s face, and back at Val’s, and spluttered quickly—“I believe—A8, perhaps A9, my prince! Yes, yes—it must be!” 

Val was going even redder in the face than he already was. “That’s as good as mine!”

“Don’t panic,” said Lan sharply. “It's unbecoming of you. He’ll never catch you. You take Sky-grade Golden Apples daily and sip on Spring waters collected from Mt. Tai itself! He hasn’t got a thousandth your resources.” 

“You don't know that!” snarled Val. He was trembling a little, breathing fast. “That—that bastard—he’s already got my woman—” 

He choked, pushed through. “What if he breaks my Leveling record? Or—or worse—what if he comes here with her? What if he decides he wants to be Maker Consort instead of me? He could swipe that from me too!” 

Lan had never seen his son so agitated. His voice was reaching girlish registers. Then again… usually he destroyed his peers, the Chosen of the other Great Families, without hardly trying. This might be the first time he felt truly threatened.

Truth be told, though Val was among the cream of the crop in his generation of the World Tree Faction’s Outer Chosen, Lan still felt it was a shame. With Lan’s enormous resources and Val’s enormous talent—if the boy simply applied himself, he could become a true rising star of this era. Truly formidable. 

He simply lacked the motivation all this time…

Lan paused. Cocked his head. 

“Well,” he said slowly. “That’s certainly a fair possibility. After all, Zane Walker’s got a powerful soul. Much more so than yours—and it seems he’s quickly erasing the one great advantage you have.”

Lan shrugged. “Then again, how could he not? Look at how he trains! The man’s a demon—fighting hard day and night… with how things are going it's only a matter of time until he catches you, I’m afraid.” 

“In Leveling, perhaps!” cried Val. “But that’s hardly my only advantage—I could outduel him in my sleep!” 

“If he catches you in Level, with his Bloodline? It’d be close.” 

“In Law then—I still beat him there!” 

“Not for long, with how strong Zane’s soul is.” 

By now Val was huffing, full-flush. “Well—well—there’s still one area that brute could never match me! The duties of a Consort involve being the Mistress’ lover, too—in that there’s no-one more worthy!”  

And he puffed himself up like a peacock. Lan almost rolled his eyes. This was truly desperate from Val. But here Lan had a retort too. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Lan. “I’m told Zane’s not only a very talented duelist. He may be even more proficient in matters of dual cultivation. That has contributed to a significant portion of his Levels, I’m told—in that art he could be as high as Earth - Mythic.” 

“Mythic?!” choked Val. 

He looked like he could hardly take it anymore. He was going from deep red to bright purple.

“Tell him,” Lan prompted.

Scout Teal coughed delicately, looking quite awkward. “Well—it’s hard to ascertain Zane’s exact Skill level—but from what our scrying can gather, it’s common knowledge in his Faction that the Mistress is… exceedingly vocal in her approval…why, the grade of the noise wards—”

“AGHHHHH!” cried Val. He started clutching at his head like he might tear out his hair at the roots—he jerked up, treated his father to a wide-eyed, red-rimmed stare—

“Father—you must kill him! You’ve got to!”

“I will certainly give it my best effort,” said Lan, shrugging. “But for such a capable man—who knows? There's every chance he may survive. Then nothing can stop him from claiming the position of Maker Consort. Except you, I suppose, should you wish to challenge him—though at the rate he’s growing…”

“I can’t take this,” cried Val. “I won’t be made to just sit here!” 

He started storming out.

“Where are you going?” Lan called after him.

“Cultivation!” screamed Val. “Gather all my treasures, all the best ones, the Golden Apples, the Sky-Ranked Vials of Essence—I am not to be disturbed!”

Lan gave a secret smile as he watched his son storm out.

He almost didn't even want Zane Walker to die anymore, he was proving such a useful tool.

Almost.

His eyes flashed cold again. 

He turned back to the projection and laced his spindly fingers. 

*** 

The mists all over the Great Lake seemed to be emanating from that one misty island, Reina realized. They flowed off in all directions. It lay smack dab in the middle. 

The sheer aura coming off the place was breathtaking. 

They were nearing the shores—just a hundred or so paces off—when—

You have entered: 

Boss Lair: Misty Isle  

Lair lock! 

Objectives: 

Kill Xanthos, the Fallen Blizzard Hydra 

Kill Vermes, Shaman of the North Wind 

Objectives Complete (0/2) 

Translucent blue dungeon wards flared behind them. Cutting off the path back. 

Reina whirled around at them, eyes wide. She thought they weren't supposed to be here—this place wasn’t meant to be structured like a dungeon, with typical Boss Lairs… it was meant to be a realm. Something wasn’t quite right, she felt. 

She and Zane looked at each other. 

One way or another, there was only one way forward, Zane figured. 

They soldiered on. 

In the distance, rising over the trees, was that strange serpent-like shadow. Big as a skyscraper—it hadn't moved in all their time here. Now that they got close, they could see it was slowly bulging, compressing, and they heard a soft distant rumbling—as though it was some huge Monster sleeping… 

They got a dozen paces closer, and the mists unfurled a little over the top. And they got a clearer glimpse of the beast. Just a little chunk of it. At first, it looked like a cracked glacier, a bare sheet of fissured ice. Then Zane realized those were scales. 

Xanthos, Fallen Blizzard Hydra (Monster Knight)  

Essence Level 288

Reina stiffened at the title. 

The whole Isle lay in its shadow—and Zane could tell just from feeling its aura, all the way out here, that it stood apart from all the rest. He’d felt the same thing from the Minotaur. It was like seeing an hourglass on a spider or yellow-black on a snake. It triggered some danger sense deep in him. 

That only got his heart pumping a little faster. 

He remembered the weird weapon the Minotaur had wielded. That ‘weapon soul,’ and how advanced its Bloodline was… 

Only Xanthos’s aura made the Minotaur’s seem buglike in contrast. 

Zane got a whiff of the Blizzard Hydra’s Bloodline too. It felt much like the Eel’s—just orders of magnitude denser. 

They weren’t anywhere close to it. It seemed pretty deep in the island, behind a range of icy mountains. And all that fighting they’d done hadn’t woken it, apparently. It didn’t seem anywhere close to stirring. Just yet. 

They would come in contact with it eventually. That was clear enough. 

Reina had one more troubling thought. That Shaman… it was listed right next to the Hydra. Could that also be a Monster Knight? 

They had entered strange new territory. 

They had to cross half the Island just to get to that thing. And it was hardly the only aura there. He felt a thick haze of Monstrous aura seeping all over the place, tainting the air....

If he was looking for a test, he’d found it. He was just three Levels from 250, too. 

The Misty Isle could be just the thing he needed.