The Last Knight of Silvafer - VerumVeritasDolor - Delve (2024)

Chapter Text

Anya gritted her teeth under the onslaught of the wind. She was worried. The Badlands held a number of nasty surprises, more often than not sufficient to kill even silver adventurers. A full battalion should, however be able to handle all of them. A distress signal from two during the day didn’t bode well - she could only hope to arrive in time.

Force Pillar. Redirection.

She kept accelerating, not even bothering to avoid a monstrous flock of oversized crows that emerged in her path. The bulk of them managed to turn at the last second, cawing loudly in alarm, but the less fortunate ones more or less exploded on impact.

She heard the battle before she saw it. Ear shattering barrages of fireballs crashed repeatedly against a single figure. A thick cloud of dust and smoke covered it almost entirely, but Anya had her means. The enemy blazed to Mana Sight, standing barefoot on the cracked ground and raising barriers of stone to counter the projectiles.

One look at the Adamant soldiers was all she needed to frown. A thousand stood in a single formation, protected by two goldwalls layered over each other. It was a blatant telltale of desperation – such a small force lacked numbers to sustain a barrier this powerful. They were forced to turtle up, prolonging the battle and placing their bet on reinforcements. On her.

I won’t fail you.

Redirection.

She took a sharp turn, closing in on the figure from above.

Force Wave.

The spell answered her call with deafening noise, everything under her shoved away hard enough to make the air itself howl in protest. The cloud that kept her enemy hidden was instantly gone, allowing her to properly examine the barely affected woman.

She had short dim blonde hair and a plain – at least for an awakened of her power – face. And she was big. Never before had Anya seen so much muscles on a mage. If not for Mana Sight accounting for her enormous manapool, it would be easy to mistake the woman for a seasoned warrior. Despite her lack of footwear and humble clothes - sleeveless shirt and short pants made of brown Jak’s hide - she stood with sinful confidence. An unapologetic, proud stance of someone who never had to worry about the next meal or take orders from anybody. The bearing of a royal.

She looks… familiar. I’ve seen her before... She must have been on the list they handed me! I can’t recall. Unless...

Quenching the hesitation, Anya broke Vannon’s gift.

The woman standing before her was known as Citizen Greenfield. Famous even among powerful rulers of the DKE for her mastery of Earth and overwhelming power, she was an opponent Anya had little hope of beating. She wasn’t even sure if her past self, with all her forever lost experience and mastery, could truly tackle such a fight.

But how is she alive? Is she a Warden’s leaving like me? No, she looks too confident for that…

Anya swiftly regained her composure, summoning an Accolade all the way from Pridestone with a mental command - a direct distress signal to the Potentate. The situation warranted it.

Just as every signal accolade, this one was utterly disposable. The Potentate has gifted her several truly beneficial ones, insisting that her rank called for power and survivability, but she decided to leave them under his care in the capital. The distance didn’t in any way obstruct their enormous bonuses after all.

Not overly concerned about being hit with the Force Wave, Greenfield took her time shaking off the dust from her shirt, before meeting Anya’s gaze with a grin. In an instant a sizeable chunk of Citizen’s manapool disappeared, sending earth-shaking tremors through the ground. Anya braced herself, but unfortunately, she was not the target.

A pillar of deepstone - thick as ten shacks – surfaced in front of the formation, sharply angled and carrying the momentum of a falling meteor. It crashed against the goldwall with a thunderous roar that sent the distant flocks of monstrous birds tumbling toward the ground, stunned.

The first barrier broke straight away, only serving to soften the blow. The second one held, if barely, enormous cracks appearing on its surface as it rapidly flickered. The pillar, however, carried way too much force to simply be stopped - the entire bubble was instead ejected over two hundred stride into the air, making even hardened veterans scream in panic.

What saved them was an additional, weaker barrier inside, bound to a strip of land and fixed parallel to the ground at all times. Supplies, equipment, large journey carts and enchanted boots of the soldiers were all magically connected to it, ensuring a stable foothold in every situation, but this was hardly enough to completely protect them from the consequences of such rapid acceleration. A crackle of breaking limbs and shattering teeth resounded within the barrier.

Worse still, the wide arch they’ve made was inevitably coming to completion. As ground approached, not a soul dared to hope the almost dead goldwall would prove enough. The Cento in charge made his peace with it earlier than others and raised his trained voice in the defiant final cry. Hundreds of voices followed him without a hint of hesitation.

"BROKEN YET UNBENT."

‘HOW ABOUT NEITHER?!’ Anya’s force-amplified shout reverberated through the air, riding the sonic boom of her rapid acceleration.

She made it near the bubble when it was mere ten stride from the ground, only a fraction of second before the deadly crash. A fraction of second was all she needed.

Kinetic Absorption.

Anya shivered under immense soulstrain, but the effect did not disappoint. Hundreds of tons came to a stop at once, seemingly frozen in air. Heartbeat of confusion later the soldiers realized they were in fact still falling, but slower than a feather would, almost all of their momentum stolen. The goldwall broke, the mages responsible for it deciding to focus their efforts on reinforcing the barrier they stood on instead. The stunned contingent made a turbulent but safe landing, as a mix of shock and relief painted the faces. They recovered quickly, keen on correcting the earlier mistake.

‘ADAMANT UNBENDING! HAND OF THE POTENTATE!’ Cento invoked.

A thousand voices answered. ‘ADAMANT UNBENDING! HAND OF THE POTENTATE!’

The scene evoked an odd feeling in Anya’s chest, but fortunately she didn’t have time to try and decipher it. The attack clearly took its tool on heavily panting Greenfield, but that hadn’t stopped her from swimming to the pillar through the solid ground with worrying speed. She struck it in the middle, shattering the deepstone into several smaller fragments. A violent gesture of the Citizen’s hand that followed sent one of the pieces at the now defenseless formation.

Force Pillar.

Redirection.

Anya rushed to meet the giant projectile head-on. The still active Kinetic Absorption allowed her to steal some of its momentum, but the Skill Greenfield used fought against such interference even at a distance. To compensate for it, she weaved three spells at once.

Force Pillar. Force Chain. Force Exchange.

The pillar of force clashed with the stone head-on and rebound, instantly overpowered. The Force Exchange transffered the power from the rebound to the Force Chain, empowering it enough to yank the enormous piece of rock to the side. Even considerably slowed down, it still retained enough energy to pretty much obliterate the nearby hill.

Anya slowly flew forward, deflecting two more giant rocks as she took care to always stay between Greenfield and the contingent. Closing in on the Citizen, she noticed there were only two deepstone shards left. The soulstrain was quickly setting in by now, but Anya was confident in withstanding as much.

She would endure and then strike in the brief window when Greenfield will be out of deepstone. From what she read about the build and its Skills, she was confident the pillar was marked in advance with Earth Manipulation tier three – Claim, allowing the Citizen to affect it once regardless of distance. The skill accepted but a single Claim to be made, only ever increasing the volume, so she couldn’t just summon another pillar, she would have to painstakingly dive for it.

Not looking very concerned about her deplenishing resources, Greenfield flung a fourth shard at the soldiers. Anya gritted her teeth, still refusing to dodge in defiance of the worsening headache.

Force Pillar. Force Chain. Force Exchange.

As she executed another flawless deflection, she belatedly realized the fifth, smallest shard was no longer next to Greenstone. Her eyes widened as she found it. Hidden directly behind the fourth, it was shot to hit only a split of the second after it, making her unable to deflect it, as Force Chain and Force Exchange were both on their 3-seconds cooldown. Thankfully, it didn’t matter - her reserves were already full and the Citizen was firmly in range.

Momentum Release.

Anya launched herself at the projectile with all the energy she absorbed during the battle, throwing it to the side like a broken toy. The 24 999 damage she took in the process proved utterly inconsequential. She flew much faster than either of the shards, cutting through the air like thunder. Seeing her rapid approach, Greenfield dove underground, stonevaulting, but unfortunately for her, Anya wasn’t using Unstoppable Force. She had full control over her trajectory, and with this much power accumulated, the mundane stone barely inconvenienced her more than water or air did. She plummeted into the earth, making a sharp U-turn to fish the Citizen out of the stone like an overgrown fish. She crashed into her side, the woman’s body helpless in the face of such tremendous force. Anya carried the Citizen high into the sky, far away from Earth Mage’s source of power.

Force Crush. Force Crush. Force Crush.

She squeezed Greenfield’s body repeatedly, making her spit blood as her HP plummeted with every passing second. The Badland’s damage limit of 100 000 wasn’t working in the favour of the giant woman. As far as Anya was concerned, the fight was over. Unwittingly, she found herself laughing with glee. Against all odds, she stood victorious. She had beaten the goldplate.

Her joy didn’t last long, the laughter dying as her eyes widened in confusion at the unbelievable that took place right before her.

Greenfield’s body and clothes shifted, aging up, shrinking and growing a long, grey beard. Her face gradually lost all of its femininity and youthfulness, wrinkles and dark spots popping up along with a more pronounced and bigger jaw. Her leather clothing turned into dark pants and an exquisite green jacket, decorated with a golden depiction of an owl. She recognized the man immediately. Citizen Westbridge put his hand on Anya’s chest, chanting.

‘By the power of the soul driven, by the power of the soul be bestilled. Stasis.’

She found herself unable to move a finger, having to watch as arcane fire blossomed on the palm of the man who should be long dead, murdered by her past self. A primal fear of the oncoming death arose deep within, threatening to overcome all that she was. A terrible terror she couldn’t even express, her face frozen in place just as firmly as the rest of her body.

***

A volley of arrows struck Westbridge at once, closely followed by the next one, bound to hit for a second damage limit. Some of the arrows managed to penetrate, lodging themselves in the man’s skin for a heartbeat, before slowly falling off. He clearly still had a lot of health.

Cento Tember wasn’t a prideful man – when his entire contingent was saved by a single mage he found himself more inspired than ashamed. What he felt shame about was how painfully long it took him to bring the unit back into firing shape. By now, their savior was locked in place by an unknown Skill, arcane fire covering her face as it doubtlessly ate at her health. What gave Cento a glimmer of hope was that Westbridge’s palm was still placed firmly on the Dominus’ sternum. Probably a requirement to ensure the continuous effect.

The bleeding mage glanced at his formation, his face twisted in profound annoyance. Tember knew what the look meant.

Wait for your turn.

Paying no heed to the shiver traveling down his spine, Tember raised his voice. ‘Again! Full salvo over two! Keep them coming!’ - on his command archers unleashed over two hundred arrows, half of them deliberately aiming a bit away from the target, assuring sufficient delay to cover an additional tick. Attempting to overwhelm the gold mage’s arcane resistance in the ranked zone merely with a Seeker Shot would be futile, but as long as they saw their enemy, they had other options. Enchanted bracers the archers used allowed for direct control over the arrow in flight, if at significant stamina cost.

The arrow barrages struck Westbridge one after the other, small corrections being made on the fly to ensure Dominus Anya wasn’t hit. He moved sharply at the last moment, trying and utterly failing to evade.

The man wasn’t willing to take the hand away, which made him a sitting duck against Tember’s archers. Excessively trained both in movement prediction and handling Vigor and Perception boosts, they were able to adjust the arrow’s trajectory a fraction of second before it entered Westbridge’s domain. This time two arrows didn’t fall off, firmly stuck in Citizen’s leg, as he bled from hundreds of small wounds.

The man scoffed impatiently, quenching the flame he used to torment the Dominus in his hand before raising it above his head. A spherical barrier shimmered into existence around them, just in time to stop the oncoming swarm of arrows. It withstood three ticks of damage before collapsing, causing an expression of triumph that brightened the Citizen’s face. He quickly erected another barrier and ressummoned the flames towards Anya’s face. After a second he was forced to stop and recast his crumbling protection.

Tember’s face twisted. They had no countermove. Not with the resources they had left. For a second time today, Cento resigned himself to his death, watching as the accursed Citizen recasts the barrier again and again, stealing a moment to hit the defenseless Dominus’ health every time. There was no doubt Anya’s death would seal their own demise, yet all they could do was delay it, and not even by a full minute. It felt wrong. Very wrong. In fact, a surging, powerful feeling of utter wrongness overcame Tember, making him fall flat on his face, nauseous.

It was a dark evening out there. Even though the Sun was yet to set, dense clouds and all the dust raised by the battle were barely letting any of its rays through. That was until an explosion of light tore through the darkness. For an instant the scenery turned bright enough to put a cloudless noon to shame.

A thick ray of light wiped Westbridge off the sky, his barrier pierced like wet paper. The beam vanished as fast as it appeared, yet the tray of black lightning it left behind lingered a while longer, assuring Cento he wasn’t hallucinating. Relieved, his eyes followed the closing reality wounds to their origin. A shaved, dark-skinned man in emperor’s attire, his feet riding a disc of hardlight hovering far above the struck Citizen. On a separate light platform, he saw Dominus Anya slowly floating towards them, doubtlessly in need of their healer’s assistance.

They were saved. The potentate was here.

***

Vannon eyed the smoking hole in the ground he’d made carefully, his well-honed instinct adamant the fight wasn’t over. He willed the platform downwards, ready to dodge or fire another attack. Something changed about the Citizen a split second after the beam connected. Something that fundamentally altered both the impression of his soul and all the reads the Osaran’s skills were feeding him. Even the fact he was pushed down by Solar Ray was odd. The light of the skill burned things but didn’t really carry any force to move them. There was only one exception to that rule. One thing that every light skill insisted on repelling at all times.

Like an enormous whip, a dark shape shot out of the hole straight at Vannon. He instantly put a hardlight barrier in its way and forced a violent turn on the one he was riding. It was the right call, as the black, foot-covered tentacle pierced the barrier with ease, barely slowing down, and missed him only by a stride.

The repulsive, rapidly growing monster that crawled out of the hole was an enormous mix of octopus, stork and human, with the human bit being mostly about the feet that covered all of its appendages. Its body drank all the light that reached it, making the creature perfectly black, save for burning silver eyes. Much like a shoe-billed stork, it had a savagely crooked beak almost larger than its head, even accounting for the giant mythril crown hanging above it. Lightbreaker’s eyes flared in recognition an instant before the system provided the name of the dark-aligned creature.

Elder Void Dunch Emperor – Level 62

The monster was bleeding profusely from countless wounds, a few of its tentacles outright missing, scorched stumps in their place. Nonetheless, Vannon commanded his platform up without hesitation, retreating.

He fired several ten-million beams at it to be sure, but just as expected, none of them did anything beyond forcibly moving the monster by a stride. Whatever damage his initial attack did to Westbridge’s body carried through, but there was no harming a gold void Dunch with light magic. Not without destroying the world.

Ever since Warden’s mad attempt, the old rules have greatly laxened. The system reached a level of damage where it was actually hard to break it further – like a maimed animal, it was no longer willing to pick any not strictly necessary fights. Not that long ago, Vannon would try his best to avoid firing even a single ten-million beam in a surface battle, but now he felt comfortable using it as his opening move. If he were to truly go all-out, however, the damage would be counted in billions and that would more than suffice to push the world off the brink.

As two tentacles closed in, his perspective rapidly shifted, the platform performing evasive maneuvers that involved putting him upside down several times over. The third tentacle tried to pierce him mid-air, violently extending to its full range like a spring, but a well-placed beam moved it just enough to make it miss.

He was almost at the end of the Dunch’s range – hoping fiercely that the monster cannot fly – when a metallic Man-Elk materialized right behind him, striking at his throat with a long dagger. The frenzied, animal eyes met his own. Their rectangular pupils radiated pure, undiluted hatred. Vannon reflexively raised his hand in defense, very deliberately firing a beam to the side from its palm as he activated his quickest escape skill.

A sting of pain radiating from his forearm assured him he wasn’t quick enough. Striking merely with the damage limit, the Man-Elk’s dagger only left a shallow graze, but that was all it was meant to do.

In the distance, Lightbreaker saw the Man-Elk, its elk head roaring in frustration at the light mage’s escape, while his human hands were spinning the twin daggers in odd, elaborate patterns. The patterns that made it increasingly hard to recognize the Man-Elk was there at all. Perhaps he was only a figment of Vannon’s imagination? The Dunch certainly paid him no mind, completely ignoring the odd metal golem standing right next to its appendage. Or was the golem really there?

He shook his head violently, forcing himself to recognize the threat as a gold Rogue. Under closer inspection, his metallic figure looked like a work of Living Armor skill, only for it produce such an effect, the armor’s helmet would have to be shaped to resemble an elk with enormous antlers – quite an odd design choice.

Worryingly, as far as Mana Sight was concerned, the Man-Elk truly wasn’t there. The mana not only wasn’t pulled by the metal, it flowed around and through him like it would in a space unoccupied by any soul or solid object.

Not daring to take his eyes off the assassin, Vannon broke an accolade to deal with the poison.

He also lifted the spell that hid the giant disc of light he had just successfully landed nearby, aside from the two surviving battalions. Three thousand adamant soldiers stood on it, along with the dying Arcane Incarnation who spent herself massively reducing the contingent’s weight along the way. He was no Barrierist and actually lifting so much with his hardlight platform would have been impossible without sacrificing the woman’s life, regrettable as it was.

Eight layers of goldwalls protected the new arrivals as they hastily absorbed Cento Tember’s grouping, their number soon raised to almost a full legion. Vannon hastily commanded them to focus on the monster, unwilling to doom the world to kill it himself.

As the soldiers marched, he saw the ongoing preparations – archers and melees immediately received enchantment priority, powerful strength and physical damage buffs being layered upon them. Multiple Incarnations were activated one after the other - two archers, a hurler, a spearman, an axeman and five defenders.

He scowled, realizing he lost sight of the Man-Elk. No matter. If he and the shapeshifter worked together, he would eventually reveal himself again. The element of surprise was gone.

Once struck by first volleys of arrows, the Dunch clattered angrily and charged to meet the army head-on. The goldwalls failed to stop the monster’s tentacles, putting up only brief resistance. Slowly but surely, the appendages phased through, ignoring the powerful magic. However, before they made it past half of the layers four towering silhouettes crashed into them, stopping the assault dead.

The Shield Incarnations were all nine stride tall and impossibly bulky due to physical enchantments. They wielded monumental tower shields made of adamant, magical and so heavy that under normal circ*mstances they never left the journey carts.

As soon as the repulsive appendages lost their impetus against shields, each found itself under attack of a squad of over thirty large swordsmen. Smaller than Incarnations, they only measured up to four or five stride, but their teamwork was flawless and their spirit more than made up for their size. The giant limbs were attacked from all directions and forced to desperately fight back.

Ignoring the thrashing tentacles trying to get past the soldiers and reach the vulnerable core of the army, archers continued to fire hundreds of arrows at the main body, favoring the head. Unhappy with the development, the Dunch bent rapidly. Its crooked beak descended at the army, bypassing the goldwalls with worrying speed. At the last moment, the creature twisted its neck, abandoning the attack. A wise decision, as otherwise the Spear Incarnation’s lightning-fast thrust would have skewered it through the eye.

High above, beyond the monster’s reach, Vannon was watching the battle unfold. The soldiers once again proved their valor, the Dunch clearly getting pushed on the back foot. He steeled himself. Soon the monster will have to change form again to avoid death – the instant it would happen, he would finish the creature off. The enemy was cornered, prompting an errant, vainful thought to surface in Vannon’s mind.

Your move.

As if on cue, the Man-Elk’s dagger pierced his heart. Vannon smiled as his form wavered and vanished, rapidly degrading to a shining orb that then exploded into a web of light. Immediately entangled, the assassin thrashed furiously when three limit-breaking Solar Rays struck him one after another, all aimed at the heart. The dense magic of the strings could withstand his metallic body’s intense mana pull only for a few seconds, but for Vannon it was more than enough. Or should have been.

Streams of silver, metallic blood poured down as the web broke. Belatedly, Lightbreaker spotted an utterly wrong placement of all three holes in his enemy’s body. Before he could correct his mistake, the Man-Elk quickstepped away, his blades dancing again as he disappeared.

A grim-red greatsword suddenly manifested at the corner of Vannon’s eye, prompting him to dive down to keep his head on his shoulders. His eyes widened when the newest enemy fully entered his sight.

The cervidian woman had antlers almost longer than her body and considerably wider. Her crystal white eyes and hair heavily contrasted with the weapon’s grim-red, bloodlike hue. The enormous greatsword she wielded was clearly not made for her size and tettered with odd, neatly trimmed holes. Liquid, crimson tentacles of Squid Kata extended from the woman’s back, several of them latched into the sword’s cavities, apparently supporting her hold on it. In her eyes Vannon saw the familiar, unrelenting hatred, hellbent on murdering him here and now.

Down below, another antlered figure appeared in an arcane flash and sent six square-shaped barriers to circle around his army, intercepting projectiles meant for the Dunch. But Vannon couldn’t really spare a closer look, as he found himself trapped between the rapid swing of the woman’s sword and the thrusting dagger of the Man-Elk, who’d just emerged behind him again.

***

Anya watched powerlessly as the Axe Incarnation was gradually torn in half by two pitch-black tentacles. In the last moment, the powerful enchantments layered upon the man’s body failed and exploded. The last spit in the face of the victorious foe. He fought fiercely, cutting off one of the enormous appendages entirely by himself, but that only earned him more of the monster’s attention.

None of her skills worked. Even the Piercing Bolt and Unstoppable Force were nothing but water off a duck’s back. The Dunch was utterly immune to any form of magic, yet the creature didn’t shun from employing it. The monster was currently firing a thick beam of darkness from his beak, threatening to overcome the fifth goldwall. Standing idly between dying allies quickly took its toll on her. When a new enemy entered the fray, she felt nothing but relief – she wasn’t a mere witness anymore. She could act.

The middle-aged cervidian had gargantuan antlers that put him well past her in level, but aside from that, he looked unassuming – a scholar more than a warrior. His eyes glared through a pair of round glasses with a strange mix of curiosity and profound disappointment. A modest robe waved on the wind, a single symbol embroidered at the front in silver – lightning sparks hanging above a platform of sorts.

The large arcane barriers he summoned looked like regular bulwarks in all but their square shape and impressive size. Six were currently circling the formation, protecting the monster, while two remained high in the air, next to their summoner.

Shouting for the Spear Incarnation to follow her, Anya rushed to confront the mage directly, lifting up a large boulder on the way. He took note of her almost immediately and summoned a wave of arcane bolts, but her health was back in place, stopping those she failed to dodge.

Force Pillar.

Redirection.

Lightning sparked between cervidian’s palms before he released it straight at Anya. She was ready. She swirled abruptly and threw the large boulder at the man, borrowing some of its force to move faster.

Force Exchange.

The lightning still pierced right through stone, but missed her by mere inches as the boulder crashed harmlessly against the man’s barrier.

Force Exchange.

She only let it fall a few meters before robbing it of momentum again, accelerating. With the corner of her eye, she could see the Spear Incarnation. By now, she probably grasped the idea. She would pave the way of their assault with the limit break.

Unstoppable Force.

She felt the truth of the skill taking hold, preventing her from straying off the straight, locked path. Forbidding her from being stopped by anything.

The Cervidian watched her calmly from behind his protection, unconcerned.

Not for long.

Anya slammed right into the barrier with all her power, well-prepared to make her truth prevail and tear through any and all resistance. But there was none.

The mage and the battlefield disappeared, nowhere to be seen. She found herself flying over endless dunes of blue sand, the sunlight warm on her skin. Anya rubbed her temples in confusion.

‘W-where am I?’

‘The Azure Desert of Karmak’. A voice answered her, scornful and judgemental.

She turned to look at its source. The Spear Incarnation met her gaze with contempt, the skin on the woman’s face cracking under the strain of the numerous enchantments destroying her from the inside.

‘My sacrifice is now wasted. My very life stripped of meaning, because of you and your order. Be smarter next time, Dominus.’

With the bitter words still hanging in the air, the Incarnation slowly trudged a few steps away, before uttering a solemn sentence.

***

A pale hardlight platform manifested right next to Vannon, slamming into his side and making the Man-Elk’s fierce stab miss. The woman quickstepped forward in a blur, moving faster than the assassin. She flawlessly incorporated the Skill’s acceleration into a slash, forcing the light mage to fire a beam to escape. Too late he noticed two of the crimson tentacles tailing his hands, their ends expanding to cover a larger area. The beam slammed into the liquid appendage but - being merely a regular hundred-thousand one - failed to make it through. Worse still, the Photon Step activated, moving him merely by a fingertip. A fingertip wasn’t enough.

The sword caught Vannon in the face, leaving a shallow wound that went all the way from his forehead to the chin. The damage limit saved him. The power behind the blow was nonetheless stunning, slamming him right into his platform like a rag doll. Long cracks opened in the moonlight disc as it endured the abuse. The potentate felt the metallic taste of his own blood.

The Man-Elk was upon him in a flash, quickstepping so close that Vannon could feel the beast head’s stinking breath on his face. His survival instinct rapidly kicked in.

He didn’t get hit, he was sure of it. Not by the Man-Elk. Apparently just breathing the same air with the mad assassin sufficed for the poison to take hold. It was ultimately inconsequential, the fumes way too weak to make it through his health pool. Only the additional effects were annoying.

Arriving a good hundred strides away, Vannon had a clear shot at his blinded opponents. A ten-million beam pierced the Man-Elk’s lung with almost no resistance, stopping only at the woman’s chest. It barely made it through her skin, having little to no effect. He would have to consider upping his game.

Suddenly a black shape wrapped around Vannon, coming out of nowhere and crushing him in an iron grip. It was the Dunch’s tentacle, but it extended from an empty space only a couple of stride from the light mage, the gigantic monster still battling his army far in the distance. Upon closer inspection, one of his tentacles was submerged in an oddly-shaped arcane bulwark.

They’re portals?!

A volley of arrows emerged from another rapidly-formed fissure in space, striking Vannon in the back for another damage limit. He concentrated, employing an advanced technique passed on to him by his predecessor. His domain stirred and swelled, soon extending almost six strides from his body in every direction, preventing any new holes in space from forming right next to him.

The woman appeared above him with a resounding thud of violently kicked air, taking a stance Vannon immediately recognized. A stance that made no sense. She was wielding a greatsword, yet her position unmistakably belonged to a skill that had nothing to do with swords. The War Hammer tier four, Anvil Fall.

Was she bluffing? The potentate really didn’t want to use Photon Step again, he had another plan to get out of the Dunch’s grip, but it required a second. A second he would not have if the white-haired cervidian wasn’t deceiving him. The unique effect of Anvil Fall would lock everything underneath the user in place exactly a second after the skill’s activation. Any and all attempts of moving would be thwarted with a full strength of the limit-breaking tier four.

Vannon fired two beams simultaneously. He couldn’t risk it.

He arrived safely a few hundred strides above the woman, keen to take advantage of Anvil Fall's core weakness. It took three entire seconds to execute and locked the user in place just as firmly as everything caught beneath it.

Three ten-million beams struck the immobile woman, penetrating an inch or two deep past the skin. A much better effect than before - her dwindling health was clearly losing the capability to protect the body. She screamed in fury and gripped her sword tightly as the skill approached completion, almost as if planning to strike the empty place beneath out of pure frustration. As far as Vannon knew, she didn’t have to, for the skill only demanded her to wait the full duration locked in place.

Struck by an ominous feeling, he glanced at the battle in the distance, where the cervidian mage still hovered in the air above his army. His barriers – or portals – no longer intercepted the projectiles, as if leaving the half-dead Dunch to his fate. Instead, they began connecting to each other at the edges, forming three pairs of sharp angles surrounding the army from three sides. Then, hundreds of stride-long sparks of arcane lightning started rapidly sparkling between them, forming an enormous triangle. An enormous triangle with four thousand adamant soldiers in its center.

He saw the mage grit his teeth in exertion, doubtlessly enduring a ridiculous soulstrain. Even then, Vannon didn’t think for a second he would succeed. He could be a gold translocationist, but what he was attempting fell closer to the greatness of Majistraal than the little tricks of the arcane smugglers.

And yet the impossible took place before his eyes, as the entire army disappeared and emerged in a giant arcane flash directly under the white-haired cervidian.

She finished her strike with a mad grin, the tremendous force sent descending on the unsuspecting army with the power of hundreds of thunders. The four remaining goldwalls burst like soap bubbles, thousands of soldiers taking cover under them crushed at once. A shockwave struck Vannon in the face, sweeping some of the blood into his eye. He blinked rapidly.

When the dust had settled, a big hole in the ground gaped where the center of the army stood a mere moment ago. There were survivors, quite a lot of them in fact. Fortunately, the army's formation gradually loosened during the battle, but Vannon could tell at a glance well over half of his army was killed in that one attack. He could hold back no longer.

As the sun vanished beyond the horizon, he felt the power leaving his body, paving the way for another one. Beloved of the Sun no longer aided him, prompting a different skill to take its place.

The Man-Elk tried to stab him in the neck, but the dagger stopped dead against three immediately manifested hardlight barriers. Two other light platforms emerged behind and in front of him, sandwiching the assassin in place as the pair of pale-glowing spears descended on his collarbone.

A black appendage shot up from above, but now it emerged farther than before and he had ample time to react, commanding the platform to turn rapidly. Rushing forward, he summoned three Moonlight Mirrors in front of him, catching a powerful streak of lightning and sending it back to the caster. A space rapidly fractured on the lowest point of his domain, bloodred tentacles shooting up to grab him by the ankles.

She dragged him down in an attempt to impale him on the greatsword – a new, slightly different one, as he noted - the original likely failing to withstand Anvil Fall. He threw his head to the side, dodging the dagger the Man-Elk'd thrown at him. With the corner of his eye he saw it vanish in an arcane flash at the edge of his domain, but the rapidly approaching tip of the sword was the more imminent concern.

Vannon waved his hand conjuring, seven Light Orbs at once between him and the white-haired cervidian, turning all into his perfect images. He fired at her through them, aiming at the heart. She dodged in a blur, only to be caught from behind when the spell made a sharp turn.

The beam pierced the woman’s chest easily, incinerating her heart and bending to do the same with the head. Her giant antlers fell to the distant ground, following the lifeless body. This time reality wounds failed to fade, hanging ominously in the air instead.

The Osaran disappeared, the returning dagger whooshing harmlessly where he'd been. His last Photon Step brought him a window of relief, allowing a jump into one of the clones, making it all but impossible to tell which one was real. At least till his next attack.

Lightbreaker smiled against himself, happy with the proper challenge more so than with the taking of a life. Panting, soulstrained, eyes squinting through the blood still pouring from the face wound – in short, he’d seen better days. His health was down to a half, manapool brought to a mere quarter. He chugged a mana potion in silence, commanding six clones to split while doing exactly the same.

His good mood didn’t last long, as the mage’s voice suddenly echoed everywhere, sending Vannon’s mind back into the distant past with its very first words.

‘As Adamant fangs bite deep into flesh,

Death will make my memory refresh,

The last battle cry will remain free,

Fondness of life won’t bend my knee’

‘Such beautiful poetry, even if a tad amateurish’ The cervidian drawled with poorly masked amusem*nt, before continuing in an even more ridiculing tone.

‘The Osaran prince that wrote it was merely sixteen at the time, crudeness of the craft can therefore be excused. Who could’ve predicted, however, that the author of such bold words would end up clinging so desperately to the most miserable of lives.’ The contempt in the last sentence was palpable, oozing from every word.

‘Who are you? Where did you find it?’ All seven Vannons demanded in unison. He was sure the poem was lost in the burning of the Sun Palace.

‘My name is Skymoon, son of Skymoon. An archeologist by profession and by passion.’ The cervidian answered.

‘Skymoon, like that legendary mage? The so-called first wizard of…’ Lightbreakers stopped themselves abruptly, realizing they'd almost sentenced thousands of their soldiers below to an imminent Revision. The cervidian grinned, very human-like in the expression. He was unwilling to let that slide.

‘The first wizard of Silvafer, the one that restored the translocation to the world. Is the all-mighty potentate too scared to utter an old name?’

The Lightbreakers closed their eyes. ‘For what it’s worth, I am sorry for what had to be done to your people. For what still has to be done.’

‘Don’t worry’ – The cervidian answered nonchalantly, even though his eyes darkened – ‘I am not sorry myself for fooling you, so it’s only fair. I think by now I’ve bought her precisely enough time.’

He chuckled as seven potentates turned to look around in alarm.

***

There was nothing pleasant about having your heart and brain incinerated. The experience was as transforming as was it unpleasant. One could say it left bad taste in the mouth, unless you managed to lose the mouth as well, which was sadly Rusla’s exact case. Luckily, her body was already recovering, mid-fall, even if at quite a pathetic pace.

Too slow.

She felt her body hit the ground with a wet thump. The air was filled with human tumult – sounds of suffering, panic and death polluted the air.

‘Subhuman!” – Someone shouted. ‘Come, we need to kill it!’.

‘It"s dead, you halfwit! You can thank the potentate later.’

‘Depths! Its skull is rising like dough!’

‘Is it... a heart? Stab it, now!’

The pitiful attacks didn’t even make it through her resistances. She tried lifting a finger, but it was still too early.

‘It ain’t doing sh*t. We need to bring an Incarnation here, if not the potentate himself.’

‘Let's bury it, it can’t live without air. Or clog up the throat, maybe?’

‘Call the fire mages…’

By now Rusla could slowly feel her strength returning, just in time to take a bite out of the hand that started to make its way down her throat. Immediately overwhelmed with disgust, she spat it out, rising to her feet angrily. The whimpering scream of pain her assailant let out was duly noted and ignored. Unfortunately, she had to head back into battle only a full second of tearing apart the nearby soldiers later. After all, they needed her for the plan.

Modo’s voice suddenly entered her mind, leaving both a message and a location.

I need healing, come.

She found him hidden in one of the abandoned journey carts, loud protests assaulting her the moment she drew close.

I lost it. Don’t you dare to peek! Heal me from out there!

She barked out a laugh. ‘Is it really that important? It’s not like we’ve met yesterday.’

Yes, it is bloody important! I want to find a soulmate someday!

The weight that Mimic’s culture placed on keeping one’s true form hidden surprised her once again, but she complied, commanding a tentacle into the cart.

A while passed before a small rodent trotted out of the cart, hurryingly making his way into her pocket.

Thank you! I have to sleep now. Good luck.

‘You’re welcome. Rest, you’ve earned it.’

She jumped into the sky, keen to join the hunt for Lightbreaker’s clones. By now Skymoon should’ve already mentioned Silvafer to the potentate. Coupled with his incredible teleportation feat and the touch of personal resentment brought by the old rhyme, it should mark him as a main target.

It was all according to the plan. A doomed plan, if the old records were to be believed, but she still dared to hope.

When half of the clones were gone, Lightbreaker dispelled them and started to throw frankly unbelievable numbers of moonlight skills at them. Moonlight barriers, spears, swords and chains were the most common, but at some point, he even summoned a moonlight rain over a big area.

Just as expected, he no longer earnestly tried to kill Rusla or Sharpwood, but mostly fought them off, focusing his assault on the mage. Skymoon was soon forced to summon six of his large barriers and form a protective cube that teleported every attack to the opposite wall of the one struck. The mage stood perfectly still inside, concentrated on operating the two remaining barriers to their benefit.

Cracks slowly formed on the barriers of the cube as Lightbreaker redoubled his efforts, deciding to focus most of the attacks on a single side wall. Ever since the sun had set, most of his attacks were done at a fairly short range, making what they were about to do considerably easier.

She felt Skymoon’s arcane power reaching out to her. He didn’t need the barriers to teleport a willing target over such a short distance. She accepted, immediately appearing inside the cube, but Lightbreaker had no way of knowing that. The barriers only pretended to be transparent, in reality only letting the light through with a significant delay of 2 seconds.

At Skymoon’s command, the gravity within the cube shifted, assuring Rusla could stand on the wall in a perfectly natural and believable fashion. That much was necessary for the insanity she was about to attempt.

Tier fours were special. The concepts embedded in them were scaringly powerful. Powerful enough to challenge the system itself in the right setting. When a strong soul pushed with them, they certainly were a force to be reckoned with. The same was sadly true for their limitations – some of them were ironclad and bending these was a feat more ridiculous than even the true break.

She couldn’t pull true break, both too weak and ignorant in the ways of the soul for that, but in terms of bending the system and its skills – well, she was a walking cheat. It was something secondary stats helped with after all.

She looked down at Lightbreaker, busy sending spears and swords up at the cube’s floor, probably still lost in the misconception that it was in fact the side wall. She raised the greatsword high above her head, pushing with her mind, body and soul. Making the skill accept it as a viable weapon came naturally at this point, but her newfound belief about the nature of up and down faced fierce opposition. She carried through nonetheless, fighting through the pain, as something started to tear deep within her.

Lightbreaker froze, his body held in place by mighty truths she fought so hard to slightly alter. Only a second later he saw her getting teleported into the cube, his face twisted in confusion. Then, just before the strike, he closed his eyes and smiled, uttering a single compliment.

‘Well fought.’

The blow connected with a roar, a disturbing fraction of second faster than it should’ve. Her fears came true – an instant before he got hit, she saw his body glowing and expanding.

They had to retreat. She jumped into the wall with Skymoon, the portal taking them a good league and a half away. From there they observed as the Lightbreaker’s body continued to grow and break down into light. The enormous palace was forming in the sky, made of moonlight, sunlight and some kinds of light she couldn’t name. Huge mirrors were manifesting on the numerous, soaring towers, that grew in number and size with every passing second.

A tier five absolute defense skill. The privilege of mythical classes and the gem of Contender of Light class-family according to Osaran records Skymoon’s found. They gambled in the hope that Lightbreaker’s gold promotion wasn’t perfect and lost said gamble bitterly.

It clearly wasn’t the only wrong assumption they’ve made. The range limit failed to protect them as silver and golden beams fired straight at them from the palace’s radiant towers. She kicked Skymoon away before they incinerated the majority of her torso. Oddly enough, there were no reality cracks, even though her healthpool instantly vanished under the onslaught.

The space mage summoned all eight barriers and stacked them into a single, powerful wall in an attempt to shield them. It teleported the beams back at the palace, but the formidable construct seemed utterly unaffected by its own attacks.

The eight barriers only bought them seconds, collapsing one after the other, the time barely sufficient for Skymoon to lift her up and walk into the rapidly degrading portal.

***

They emerged in one of the thin, birch forests of the Southern Isles, Sharpwood already waiting for them there. Upon their arrival he deactivated Living Armor, making the life slowly sap out of his Elk head as it turned back into a mundane helmet. He took it off, revealing his angry, disappointed face.

‘Depths-cursed tier five. What a cruel joke.’

Skymoon shook his head. ‘I told you this was the most likely outcome. We’re lucky no one’s died.’

‘No one besides thousands of accursed adamants.’ Rusla interjected, not hiding her satisfaction as her new heart started beating. ‘How long until he is killable again?’

Skymoon frowned. ‘If the scriptures are to be believed, he will be locked in that place for seven days, and then the skill goes on a month-long cooldown. He will also need a prolonged stay in the depths to fully recover. None of this matters, as the empire will form a protective perimeter around the palace, and we will take way longer to regain what we’ve lost today.’ He met her eyes. ‘I can feel what happened to your soul. What about Modo?’

She reached into her pocket, feeling the small shape. ‘Sleeping now. Health-soulstrain. He will be fine, I've seen worse cases.’

‘That’s great. Now, after confirming we are indeed dealing with a mythical classer, it is probably time to acknowledge what we need to kill him.’

‘And what it that exactly?’ Sharpwood asked, his eyes narrowing.

Skymoon looked at him flatly. ‘Our own mythical classer, obviously.’

The assassin scowled. ‘Easy to say. Camellia can’t meet these requirements. Not with staffs that explode halfway through the procedure.’

Skymoon sighed. ‘So we have to get her one that won’t explode.’ He looked around, pleased with himself and clearly very aware of the turmoil his next words were about to cause.

‘As I am sure you’ve heard, a cervidian blacksmith has recently made quite a name for himself. The so called Tallheart of Ascension or Vileheart, as he is known in the Empire. Why not reach out to him?’

He paused, savoring the uproar as Sharpwood and Rusla began speaking over themselves.