Savage Awakening 134. Final Layer (I) (Patreon)

A/N:

Added in more skill ups in the last few chapters to make increased skill leveling in the array more apparent! Skills that have changed:

Promethean noose II -> IV

Fiery Renewal II -> III

Apocalypse Smash II -> III

(1/1)

//

The neat thing about Stormfire Cyclone was he'd already upgraded it. So he just had to throw in his new Stormfire and—

Skill evolved!

Stormfire Cyclone [Legendary] -> Stormfire Cyclone [Mythic]

And his Axes began to spin, cleaving the air apart, leaving bright sizzling trails behind them—he heard that telltale shriek and smiled. He'd missed this. As they went, they grew brighter and brighter—

One.

Then—CLANG!

An Axe ran straight into a Bog Demon. And blew out its head. Only it also got stuck; the Demon wobbled around. Still living.

Zane frowned.

They were starting to swarm him now. The problem was he had to get this thing off the ground. It wouldn't be stronger than his Smashes or even his fists until it got going.

So he yanked out his Axes and tried again.

But this time, they rose high above, clearing the heads of the Demons. One.

The problem was if his Chains were up there, there was nothing protecting him. He knew it, too—he just bit down, hunkered in. And let them at him.

Five or six of them swarmed in…

Two.

Then they started walloping him.

A fist rammed him in the back, then another; he lurched forward—just as an Earthy smash clocked him upside the head. He staggered for a second, head spinning, but kept his feet. It felt like a little earthquake was going off down his back—inside his skull; pain spiked in his head; he couldn't stop his teeth chattering.

Warning!

Health under 75%

He gritted his teeth. Three!

And now the air was heating up, taking on a red tinge, starting to warble. A crackling started up, a roaring, growing louder by the second; flecks of red-yellow started dancing on the breeze—

Now there were eight or nine of them on him, potshotting. He jerked back and forth, staggering—THUNK! THUNK!

It sounded like they were hitting a heavy bag, driving those sloppy hammer-fists deep into him. The pressure was seeping in—his Steel body did a good job of fighting it off but he still felt something rupture inside him. His face didn't bruise much anymore—but it was starting to dent. A well-placed punch broke his nose; blood spurted everywhere.

But he just took it with a grin.

If they wanted to put him down, they'd need to do a lot better than that.

In the meantime…

Four.

But the winds were getting fierce now—so fierce they were yanking the mud off the demons' bodies; their hole eyes twisted about, dragged by the currents. More Demons were rising in the distance, stumbling closer—but his Stormfire raged so fiercely now he could hardly see them. It was just a wall of furious red-white, and he was caught square in the middle of it. Along with a glut of Bog Demons.

Five.

A few Demons tried breaking in from the edges—his Axes went right through them. Their hole-eyes open in shock; their heads ripped straight off their bodies, whipping into the winds, baking in Fire. The pressure was getting intense, dragging everything upward—

THUNK!

A fist cracked him in the belly. Right in a spot he'd been cracked before, and it gave. He hunched a bit, spat out a mouthful of blood. But it didn't matter. His bloody grin widened.

Six.

The muddy ooze beneath them was starting to tremble. The pressure had grown so huge it was swirling, changing direction, following the searing winds. And now the Cyclone was too great to ignore.

Whole chunks of bog demon were getting ripped away, lost in the Cyclone. They looked up, befuddled, mouths hanging open—

Then they were yanked straight in. One by one. Ripped clean off the ground like trees in a tornado, flailing, dripping mud as they went.

Seven.

By now, all the Bog Demons had been thrown off him. They were fed into that meat grinder, that furnace—and the power there had grown astonishing. It was so huge Zane was starting to feel the drain, and he never felt essence drain except for Wish Upon a Star.

He watched as they flailed, mouths open in silent screams, trying to bash their way out—he watched their flails slow as they hardened, their eye-holes, mouth-holes freeze still as they went round and round. They were being baked alive. Cooked. Cracked. And then there were just more ash, roasted in a brilliant flickering flame.

The Earth was baked. The water, gone to mist. It turned out if you just turned the heat up hot enough, there was no such thing as a bad type matchup. Zane nodded, licking his lips.

It was pretty much his worldview in a nutshell.

Eight.

Now it wasn't even a contest. The bog demons could hardly resist anymore; they just got sucked in, baked, crushed, shredded—scattered to ash on the winds. They made a lovely cracking sound as they went; Zane soaked it in. There was something cathartic to it, like smashing clay. Then—

Skill up!

Stormfire Cyclone II -> III

Huh. They weren't even at the boss yet. He supposed it was the Array at work.

And now the Cyclone was reaching heights he'd never seen. The power in all that essence was climbing past even Wish Upon a Star.

Nine, and it was changing the world. The mud flats were swirling all around it, getting sucked up and blown out, helpless. It was even sucking in those slate clouds, breaking out chunks of blue sky. It was sucking in everything; it was storm fire at its destructive best. The pace and speed of lightning, and the destructive power of Fire. Put together in one devastating combo.

He was straining just to keep it together. His arms were starting to burn; his whole body was. He had to keep the thing turning, keep it all on a leash, keep that massive glut of power burning on and on—he was breathing heavy, grunting and hissing; his arms, his chest, his back flexed with all their considerable might; veins stood out purple all over him.

It was just barely enough.

Then he saw the Boss coming through. A muddy mountain rising to meet him, a few dozen gaping holes for eyes and one giant mouth. Boulders and trees stuck out of it at random angles. It shambled closer and closer…

King Gogoloth, Swamp Demon (Monster)

Essence Level 123

Ten.

Zane let out a groan. He couldn't help it. It felt like his whole body was tearing just keeping this thing running. He couldn't hold it much longer. Either his essence pool would give out or he would—he could hardly find a cloud in the sky anymore; the grounds were barren, roasted to ash as far as the eye could see, and now the ash was getting dragged up again, adding black streaks to his white-red apocalypse.

The Swamp Demon had been shambling toward him. Then it took one look at what it was running into. Its whole front side was reddened just standing near it. Its giant mouth fell open.

Then it turned around.

And started shambling away as fast as it could.

“…”

But it couldn't get away long. It was like nearing a black hole—the Demon had gone past the point of no return; the winds had picked it up, and it was being dragged in slowly at first, then all at once—

Eleven.

Zane heaved; he was tearing up. Fiery Renewal raged all over him, trying to heal the muscle fibers as fast as they could even as blood exploded out of his chest. He couldn't take much more of this—

He didn't have to.

The first Axe was a supernova, streaking over, boiling with essence, so bright it hurt to look at—and CLANG'd into the Boss's giant head. It slowed as it went through, noticeably dimmed—but it got the job done.

The Swamp Demon's head went flying, torn straight off its body—straight into the Cyclone.

Then his second Axe cut its body in two. And did the exact same thing.

When they swung back around, they were at around fifth revolution power. But they'd got the job done.

The Swamp Demon was all blazing stumps now. Stupidly hot Stormfire raged up and down the cuts, spreading down its body, undeniable. Roasting every chunk of it whole. The head and the body and the leg-stump all popped up with their own little eyes, their own little mouths—like how if you cut an earthworm a certain way, you could make two earthworms. It might've been a nasty surprise in another situation. But here it was too little too late.

Skill up!

Stormfire Cyclone III -> IV

Eighth Layer, Sinkhole Swamp, has been cleared!

And Zane sagged panting, smiling, to his knees.

***

The operator called out—"The Savage Sage has entered the Ninth Layer!"

A hearty cheer went up. The loudest of them came from a boy in the front row. Evan was bouncing-off-the-walls happy.

Eze stood there silently. Staring intently at the leaderboard. Off to the side, a few technicians were installing a projector to tap into the Array's live feed. They might make it in time for Zane's final layer.

The atmosphere was tense, yet bubbling with excitement.

There were a few spies from various big International Factions relaying the news as it happened. But there was a news organization too.

WRN, the World Ranker Network, a newly minted Faction made specifically to follow the Top Rankers—each of which had big fanbases all around the world. Fanbases that would shell out to know how their favorite fighters were doing.

By now, Eze was a known name—he had tons of fans at VGI and around the world. Zane's fanbase had shot up just like his cultivation these past few weeks; by some counts he had even more fans now. People just loved to see him fight—they could feel his passion, his joy. It felt like every time he showed up there’d be a surprise.

WRN was the only licensed provider of the recordings of Zane and Eze's fight. Recordings they'd gotten at huge cost from Elias and the Silicon Coven, but it was worth it. In just days they'd sold hundreds of thousands of copies—far beyond their wildest expectations. Only C-rank Beacons and above could play essence recordings and livestreams; all around the world whole Factions were huddling around their Beacons to watch.

Now they had a crew on-site covering Zane's race for the top spot.

"This is it, folks! The moment you've all been waiting for!" said Tyler Saunders, a blond, blandly handsome man with perfectly coiffed hair. He grinned at the recording crystal. "Will Zane Walker beat the magic number—862? Or will the Touch of Death continue his reign of dominance? The betting line's nearly dead even. On paper, it's anyone's game!"

At his side a beautiful brunette lady in a red dress, Becca Dwyer, gave a bright smile too. "But don't forget, the Savage Sage has pulled ahead in clear times! Our sources say he has nearly twenty minutes on Eze going into the final layer."

"Well," chuckled Tyler, who'd become a big Eze fan after seeing a recording of him one-shotting a B-rank dungeon boss. "Time isn't everything, Becca. We all know what Walker can do when it comes to blasting power—he could be the best in the world in that! But he'll need a lot more than that to beat Eze. My money's on the Touch of Death."

"I don't know," said Becca, who was a big Zane fan—her fandom started after seeing a recording of him all sweaty after a fight, but she'd since come to appreciate the non-eye-candy parts of him too. She pursed her lips. "We've never seen growth like Zane's before! Maybe he'll surprise us."

"Maybe. Still—our sources tell us the final floor's Fire- and Dark- themed. Which Eze matches up far better against," said Tyler. "That and his strategic mind could win the day."

"But Zane's got ideas of his own!" Becca pointed out. "He might come across them in unorthodox ways, but it's a mistake to think he's just a mindless barbarian. Our team reviewed all the footage on him we could find, and one thing's for sure—when it comes to intuition, he's second to none. I wouldn't count him out!"

"Looks like it's shaping up to be a hell of a battle," chuckled Tyler. “All week the Coven’s mages have been hard at work setting up projectors. Looks like they’re finally coming online now! We're about to get our first look—stay tuned, everyone!"