Grand Game 450: Making a Point (Patreon)

My lips quirked upward in amusement as I listened to Yara’s frantic orders. They told me much about the Blades’ capabilities and confirmed many of my own guesses as to their skills. They also made another thing clear: I was not going to finish off my foes as quickly as I wanted to.

And if I could not make an impression on the Blades by how quickly I killed them, that left the next best thing: making them think I toyed with them.

But I couldn’t afford to suffer any serious injury in the process; that would defeat the entire process of the exercise. Which means employing utmost care. 

Right, slow and sure it is. So, what’s step one? 

Checking up on Ghost.

Reaching out with my mindsight, I reached across the expanse of the bamboo forest to the pyre wolf. From the limited number of mindglows near her, I could tell she was only moderately engaged. “How are you faring, Ghost?”

“Urgh, these players are no challenge, Prime,” she complained. “It’s like killing cubs!”

I chuckled. “That’s because the forest has already taken its toll. I take it you don’t need any help then?”

Ghost snorted. “Of course not. The players stopped coming through a while ago, and I’m almost done with the last two.” She paused. “What about you?”

 “Things are a bit trickier out here,” I admitted. “I may need your help soon. How many have you killed so far?”

“Fifteen,” she reported proudly.

I nodded thoughtfully. Ghost’s fifteen, plus the two that she still sparred with, and the three I’d killed made twenty. Closing my eyes, I called up the waiting Game messages.

Cine has died.

Moonhide has died.

Anvil has died.

…

…

Deklan has died.

Tallying up the death notifications, I realized fully half of the Blades had been killed by the bamboo forest. Perfect, I thought in satisfaction. It meant the twenty-six players under Yara’s command were the only real threat remaining—my gaze drifted to the hills in the distance—assuming, of course, no more reinforcements emerged from the Blades’ hidden base.

“I’m dropping the nature unchained spell,” I warned Ghost. “As soon as you can, circle around the players I’m watching and wait.”

“What will I be waiting for?”

“Any Blade who thinks to make a break for their base.” I paused. “Or any reinforcements that the base may send.”

“Got it.”

Trusting Ghost to do her part, I turned back to Yara’s group. They’d formed a tight-knit circle, with only Yara, Nog-dog, and a few others enclosed within. Magelights hung above the players, and though I could not see them, I was sure the ground was seeded with plenty of traps.

Surprisingly, the orc had chosen not to have her people retreat to their base. I shrugged. Yara’s reasons didn’t matter, only the fact that I faced twenty-seven primed and ready players did.

Time for step two.

Closing my eyes, I drew psi.

✵ ✵ ✵

I could’ve tried using nature’s unchained against the Blades again, of course. But I didn’t. Mostly because the first iteration had drained the greater part of my mana, and even though I was committed to taking things slow, meditating would take entirely too long.

I was also loath to approach the players too.

I was fairly certain that the Blades were better than me when it came to thieving. I’d failed to detect their earlier traps, and I was sure I would not be able to do so now either. I could blink in, bypassing whatever traps the Blades had laid along their perimeter, but that would leave me trapped in their midst. 

No, thank you.

I had more than a few bombs left in my backpack, but would a Power stoop to using mere bombs? He or she wouldn’t.

Which left the next best thing: my only ranged offensive ability, telepathy.

Unfortunately, the player Zeek had finally managed to shield the consciousness of all the surviving Blades which limited my options to slaysight-shatter or… astral blade. 

Shatter was less than ideal in these circumstances, especially with someone like Zeek around—and who knew who else?—to renew any broken mental defenses. And astral blades wouldn’t work either, not if Zeek’s mind shield spell functioned the same way mine did. 

But did it? 

Zeek was casting his spell over his allies, something I couldn’t do with my own psi shield variant. So, if it’s not the same spell, perhaps it doesn’t afford the Blades the same protection mine spell does. 

I shrugged. There was only one way to find out.

Concealing my hands behind my back, I let a psi dagger manifest in each. It was impossible to mask the blades’ luminous aura entirely, but once they flew free it would not matter if the players spotted them. 

“He’s attacking again, Yar!” Nog-dog screamed right on cue.

Damn gnome, I grumbled. His warning, though, would make little difference. Flicking forward my arms, I let the daggers fly at my chosen target.

“What’s that—” 

The cry cut-off, mangled into something unintelligible as my two ethereal blades struck the player, causing splotches of angry purple to spread across his face.

You have injured Tomlin, a level 153 human skull-cracker, inflicting psi damage. Nerves at the point of contact have been weakened. Inflict further psi damage to deaden them entirely.

I smiled in satisfaction. The astral blades had worked. Unlike my own mind shield, Zeek’s did not protect its subjects from nerve damage.

“Where did that come from?” Yara demanded sharply.

Fingers pointed into the night, most at empty spots of nothing. A few, though, managed to correctly pick out the position I’d fired from. Of course, I was no longer there, having relocated the moment the astral blades had left my hand.

Multiple hostile entities have failed to detect you!

“I don’t see anything,” Yara rasped. “Zheck, what do you see?”

“Nothing,” groused the troll so addressed.

My smile widening, I slipped further into the darkness. Yes, this will work, I thought. 

It will work nicely, indeed.

 ✵ ✵ ✵

A wolf in the night, I stalked the Blades, firing slivers of purple death as I circled them. Yara’s people did their best to find me, using magelights, revealing spells, and even sending players out in pairs to search the night.

But in this one instance, at least, the Blades were completely outclassed. Buffed by fade and hidden by the darkness, I was impossible to find.

And one by one, the Blades began to fall.

Tomlin has died.

Zheck has died.

Tum has died.

…

I sensed Yara’s frustration, but she was helpless to stop the slow attrition of her people. Eventually, she did the only thing she could and ordered a hasty retreat to the Blades’ base.

But as withdrawals went it was messy. The group’s cohesion crumbled, transforming the players from the fighting unit they’d been under Yara to panicked individuals fleeing for their lives.

And ripe prey for Ghost and me.

Nog-dog has died.

Haversk has died.

…

We picked off the Blades easily, preventing any from reaching the safety of the trap field circling their base until, finally, only Yara remained.

“Stay back,” I ordered Ghost as I approached the orc. Standing stiffly to attention, she stared unseeing into the night. 

“What are you waiting for, you bastard?” Yara yelled into the darkness. “Go on, finish it. Butcher me like you did the rest!”

“Terming it that is hardly fair,” I objected mildly, letting the shadows wreathing me dissipate.

You are no longer hidden.

Yara spun around to face me. I watched her curiously. The orc gripped the hilt of her sheathed blades tightly, but she refrained from drawing them.

I smiled. Smart of her. “If you recall, I did not pick this fight.”

Yara spat to the side. “Cine was always an idiot. But that’s no reason to kill all of us.”

I shrugged. “A point had to be made.”

She scowled. “And what point is that?”

“That I am what I claim,” I replied, my voice turning frigid. “A Power.” Tilting my head to the side, I studied her coldly. “Or do you still doubt?”

Yara’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t,” she whispered.

“Good. Then, when you get back, let your superiors know if they wish to parley, they can find me along the southern border of this sector. I meant what I said: I can help your faction reclaim sector 75,172 from the Reapers—for a price.”

“Get back…” Yara echoed. “You’re letting me go?” she asked hopefully.

My lips curved upward. “In a manner of speaking, I am,” I murmured as I drew psi.

You have teleported into Yara’s shadow.

You have killed your target with a fatal blow.

You and Ghost have reached level 215!

Your telepathy has reached rank 22, and your chi rank 18.

Ghost’s magma maw and ash armor have reached rank 7, and her stygian claws and telepathy rank 8.