Chapter 356 - The Battle of the Ianthian Wastes (Patreon)

Jasper was mortified.

When he was young, he’d always loved to sing. Wherever he went, the gentle melody of a child’s song would follow. However, as he’d grown older, his mother had made it clear that such activities were within the sole purview of women. He could still hear her voice when she asked him, “No male will ever sing the songs of our people.”

At the time, he’d scarcely understood the implications of that statement. In the culture he’d left behind, gender roles were very clearly defined, with women occupying the positions of leadership within their society. Men had their place, too, but they were generally subservient – at least publicly – to the women in their lives.

That dichotomy was so prevalent that it affected class choices as well. And in Jasper’s case, that meant that he could never satisfy his own passion for music – not in Tesh or any other dark elf lands. He had accepted that, pushing his interests in other directions. However, when the time to choose his class presented itself, he’d only been given a single option that would have been deemed acceptable by his mother.

But even that would have sentenced him to a life at the lower end of a society where his gender had already started him at the bottom. If he’d stayed in Tesh, he would have been comfortable – his mother had already arranged a marriage to a woman from a powerful family – but he would never reach his potential.

He would never be happy.

So, he’d chosen the {Troubadour} class and run away to seek his fortune in the wider world.

However, the lessons of his youth remained, and he’d developed something of a block when it came to singing. In fact, playing any sort of music at all made him feel like less of a man. And singing? Even when he did so alone and far from others’ ears, came with significant embarrassment. But it was also exciting, like he was finally living the life he was meant to live.

So, singing in the middle of battle where everyone could hear him was absolutely terrifying, exhilarating, and humiliating. Still, the others were depending on him. Hundreds would die if he let his song – and by extension, the skill [Frozen Melody] that depended upon it – lapse. His people might be a little callous when it came to the lives of other races, but Jasper had spent enough time among them to have shed most of that learned bigotry.

Keeping his song going, he gazed across the battlefield. Most of it was obscured by the blizzard, but he could still see Zeke, his colossal form looming above everything else. Even the shard wolves seemed small next to him. Part of that perception was due to his sheer, physical size, but some of it came from his presence. His aura shone brighter than anything else on that battlefield, marking him clearly as someone of import.

Others shone, too. The little boarkin girl was bright with potential; only time would tell if she’d have the chance to reach it. If Pudge wasn’t in the Crimson Springs, he would shine almost as brightly as Zeke, albeit in a different, more muted hue. Silik and Kianma had visible auras, too, though theirs was more diffuse, as if their futures were still muddled and unsettled. If they developed properly, they would both be powerful in their own right.

Jasper hoped he could earn a place among such lofty companions. He knew he was strong, but his power was dedicated to support. Upon leaving home, he’d used his unique skills to bolster the members of his crew as he worked as a privateer. However, his time in the mines beneath Min Ferilik had shown him precisely how personally weak he really was. One day, he hoped to change that, but for now, he could show his worth by supporting his chosen companions.

To that end, he started drumming his fingers against his belt as he brought his full arsenal of abilities to bear on the battle. His allies’ steps quickened, and they experienced a surge of energy as the battle was truly joined.

* * *

Sasha wanted nothing more than to remain at Pudge’s side. However, she knew that, if they were going to win the battle at hand, her new allies would require her assistance. After all, what would Pudge think if he awoke to find that his brother had been killed? Or worse, enslaved once again? It would be devastating for him, and she couldn’t stomach the notion that he would be wounded by her inaction. So, once she was assured that he would recover, she had raced outside to join the others.

It was telling that she had begun to take the tower for granted. It was a wonderous thing that seemed to combine sorcerery, ritual magic, skills, and runecraft into something wholly unique that bordered on the miraculous. If she’d discovered that it had been created by a god, she would not have been surprised. However, after spending weeks living within the tower, she often found that her wonder had faded into the background. It was still there, but unless she focused on it, her awe no longer affected her.

She passed through the teleporter and into the Entry Hall, where she saw hundreds of the young, monstrous kobolds gathered. They wanted to fight – what else could one expect from monsters? – but Ezekiel had insisted that they remain behind. They might be monsters, but they were still children, after all. It would take a real devil to use the young in a fight. Thankfully, Ezekiel was no such devil.

Even if he was far more demonic than made her comfortable. So was Pudge, for that matter. But it felt far more excusable with the bearkin than it did with Zeke. Certainly, she was aware of the hypocrisy – and likely bigotry – of such a view, and she’d tried her best to move past it. Still, though, it remained nestled in the back of her mind, threatening to skew her perception at the worst possible moment.

So, it was good that Ezekiel had proven himself to be a decent person. A little selfish, and far too impressed with his own meager power, but he was trying to be better, and that was what mattered.

So far.

Sasha couldn’t tell if it was her distrust of humans – or demonkin, perhaps – showing itself, but she kept waiting for him to reveal his monstrous nature. That he hadn’t yet was a combination of good fortune and a lack of necessity – or that was what the whispers in the back of her mind kept telling her. Perhaps, they persisted, this battle would give him the impetus to reveal himself as the devil he truly was.

Or maybe he would prove himself above it all.

As she exited the tower, she mentally scoffed at the notion. Her people had been enemies with humankind – and most other sapient races – for their entire history. Those villains had committed one atrocity after another against beastkin the world over. So, she found it unlikely that she’d found the one human – or human-adjacent; she still was unsure precisely how to categorize Ezekiel, or for that matter, Pudge – willing to accept beastkin as equals.

Regardless, she had chosen her path the moment she had followed Pudge out of Kabalith and into the wilderness, and she intended to see it through to the end. Besides, she had made at least one friend among the kobolds, and she had no intention of abandoning Kianma to the amassed goblin horde.

After stepping through the gate, she was immediately assaulted by the blizzard. However, it was held at bay by the curious dark elf’s haunting melody. Sasha spotted Kianma, who was holding her hands up as streams of blood flowed down her arms. A dozen other spiritweavers mimicked her stance, encapsulating their people in the protective power of their ritual.

The battle had already begun, and the moment she found herself before the tower, she was assaulted by the muted sound of the two clashing armies.  Amidst the howling wind, it was barely audible, but even so, it was an unmistakable herald of the violence before her. Spears of pure light – the kobolds’ signature power – lanced through the air, briefly illuminating the combatants, and Sasha was horrified by what she saw.

She was no stranger to a fight, and after seeing the trolls’ sacrifices, she thought she had become inured to the horrors of violence. However, the battle before her put the lie to that assumption. Everywhere she looked, she saw kobolds and goblins, dead and dying as they screamed in agony. The former slaves hadn’t been spared, either, and the analytical part of her mind noted that they’d probably come off worse than any other group. With their skills having been held in check for so long, they had atrophied into uselessness. So, many of those former captives had only their stats to rely on.

It was not enough.

Not against a horde of goblins, yetis, and other ice-attuned creatures.

Sasha jammed the butt of her staff into the ground and began to gather power via [Mana Manipulation], which she filtered through [Elemental Conversion], transforming its attunement from ice to fire. It wasn’t easy; if she lost concentration for even a second, it would all fall apart. And that was just the first stage of spellcraft. The second part hinged on [Painting the Wind], which let her arrange the converted mana into simplistic and temporary versions of runes that she could use to turn power into effect. It wasn’t true runecraft – she had no head for those complex structures – but spells were well within her mental grasp. Perhaps it had something to do with her path of spellcraft.

Whatever the case, it took her a few minutes to convert enough mana to properly power a spell, and by that point, the battle had progressed into a furious back and forth that could have gone either way. At times, it felt as if her allies would win the night, but at others, they were pushed back almost to the tower itself. Throughout it all, Ezekiel was like a immovable island, reaping goblin lives with every swing of the primitive hammer he favored.

Finally, Sasha completed her spell, and the moment she released the gathered power, a giant wave of fire swept across the sky.

A clear voice erupted into laughter that sounded like tinkling bells, soon followed by a mirthful shout, “Oh, that’s so pretty! Maybe I will let more of you live!”

Sasha gritted her teeth and poured more converted mana into the spell. For a moment, the ferocity of those flames pushed the blizzard aside, but the snowstorm soon reasserted itself. All the while, the voice kept needling her and belittling her efforts.

But that was fine.

The spell had never been intended as an attack. Instead, it was meant to augment her allies’ efforts. At last, the spell reached its crescendo, and Sasha forced the last bit of required mana – most of what she had in her core – into it. Then, she released it.

Fire rained down from the sky, illuminating the horrible violence of the battle. The voice continued its running commentary as to what she intended to do when her goblin army inevitably defeated the tower’s defenders. But after a few more seconds, her tone changed when the kobolds, former slaves, and most importantly, Ezekiel burst into flames. They didn’t burn her allies; instead, they served to enhance their attack skills with weaponized fire-attuned mana.

Against most foes, it would have been only mildly useful. But fire was ever the enemy of ice, and as such, it was doubly effective against the ice-attuned creatures of the goblin horde.

But with that spell, Sasha had done everything she could. Perhaps she could still cast a few lightning bolts, but she knew just how useless those would be. Instead, she’d leveraged her power the most effective way she knew how; now it was up to her allies to use the enhancement to win the day.

* * *

Silik glanced at Kianma, feeling a sense of pride mingled with shame at her sacrifice. Once, he might not have twitched an eye ridge at her fulfillment of her purpose. After all, the spiritweavers were the backbone of the creche. However, he could see the pain in her eyes. He could practically feel it. Her scales had lost some of their luster, and her glorious plumage hung limp and colorless. If she kept going, she would eventually die.

Still, without that ritual, many of the kobolds would perish. So, Silik pushed his discomfort aside and focused on the other oddity – the flames wreathing his claws. It had happened only a few minutes into the battle, and he’d already seen the effect – his [Spear of Memory] burned hotter than ever before – so he knew it was beneficial. Even so, it was distracting, especially to the less experienced members of the creche.

So, Silik had been forced to back away and reassure them. Now, though, he needed to rejoin the battle. To that end, he let out a hissing roar before charging into a cluster of goblins who’d managed to bring a centurion to his knees. Silik fell upon them with animalistic ferocity. His spear flashed as light suffused his body, and once again, he found himself appreciative of the gifts of the Mother.

Left alone, kobolds had no skills or abilities to speak of. They were strong and hardy, and they were well-equipped to survive their habitat beneath the ground, but beyond their physical abilities, they were powerless. The Mother had changed that, bestowing upon them a set of skills – all light-based – that set them up as a perfect counter to the creatures who lived in the darkest places of the world.

First, there was [Spear of Memories], which was the basic attack all legionnaires were given upon attaining the class. It manifested in a beam of light that could burn through enemies with ease. The second skill was called [Lightforged], and it gave the kobolds the ability to briefly augment their already-impressive physical abilities with light mana.

Finally, Silik was equipped with a unique skill called [Blessing of the Light], which allowed him to further enhance any kobolds in his immediate vicinity. It was a passive effect that, as far as he could tell, was always active. In a lot of ways, he found it useless because it did nothing to affect the creche’s physical tools. Instead, it gave them the ability to think more clearly. But after having a few conversations with Kianma, he’d begun to see it as the boon it was.

It wasn’t meant for battle. Rather, it was intended to help the kobolds advance as a species. Hopefully, they would survive long enough for it to bear fruit.

To that end, Silik thrust his spear forward, impaling a little blue goblin. The moment it was wounded, the ugly creature burst forth with numbing cold that, courtesy of the dark elf’s song as well as Kianma’s ritual, was merely uncomfortable, rather than the debilitating attack it should have been.

He shrugged it off and continued on, slaying goblins with every thrust of his spear. Periodically, he sent forth a [Spear of Memories], but only rarely. Instead, he saved his mana to combat more powerful opponents. It was difficult, restraining himself so, especially when holding back meant leaving the less powerful kobolds to fend for themselves against opponents that were capable of bringing them down. But he knew it was for the best.

The Mother had made it clear that, often, leaders had to accept losses for the greater good, and Silik had taken that lesson to heart.

After a few more minutes, he found himself facing off against a hulking, white-furred yeti. It rumbled forward, wielding a giant bone as a club as it tried to bring Silik down. He dodged to the side, then thrust forward with his spear, ripping a gaping wound in the monster’s side. Immediately, it iced over, sealing the injury.

More, the huge monster surprised Silik with a sudden burst of speed that it converted into a shoulder tackle that sent him sprawling in the snow. He narrowly avoided a swordstrike from a goblin by rolling to his left, then lashing out with a vicious kick that sent the little monster flying into a group of its fellows. Silik used his momentum to climb to his feet just in time to see the yeti once again bearing down on him.

He used [Lightforged], infusing his body with enough power to spring away from the monster’s charge. Then, he ignited his weapon with [Spear of Memories], sending a beam of scalding light to cut through the yeti’s thick fur. It burst into flames, and though it attempted to seal the resulting wound with ice, the skill quickly melted through it. In seconds, the yeti had been burned in two.

But Silik hadn’t managed the feat without cost. His mana had dipped considerably, and still, the battle raged all around him. It was going to be a long, drawn-out conflict, and if he intended to survive, he would need to conserve his power.

Just then, an eruption of force ripped across the battlefield, sending goblins, kobolds, and former slaves sprawling. At the same time, Silik heard and unmistakable roar of fury as Zeke brought his own power to bear on the battle.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be as long of a battle as he’d expected.