The black swan landed with a heavy jolt on the grounds close to the fortress, its front prow crashing into the icy walls as circular inscriptions flared even as the ship took out the cannons of the walls closest to them. Tunde felt his brain joggle as he pushed forward with mid-tier disciple strength, feeling the wood of the ship shake as he pushed past the destroyed hole in the wall.
Legs landing on the ground, he tore forwards, Shadowfang in hand even as disciples tore from the inside of the buildings, making for them. Dressed in blue, brown, white, and red robes that represented all the opposing factions, Tunde felt a force blow past him as two disciples in front of him were suddenly relieved of their lower halves, toppling to the ground dead before they could even begin to cycle their Ethras.
He paid no mind to the work of Rhyn, watching Thalas sail overhead, repaired cudgel in hand, and crashed to the ground, smacking a disciple in brown robes out of the way even as the disciple conjured rock Ethra around him. Ethra sight revealed the strongest of their oppositions, a large mace, flames in rings around his arms and legs, a member of Emberpeak. Shiro battled a female disciple wielding two frozen blades, a member of clan Acacia even as his staff became a blur, the disciple struggling to catch up to his moves.
Tunde could see it clearly, even anticipating Shiro’s moves, but he had the flame mace wielder to deal with, and as he stepped forward, the mace wielder imbued his body with the rings of flames, becoming a pillar of fire. Tunde took two steps, Shadowfang crashing into the weapon shearing it in two, the black blade brimming with rift Ethra that ate cleanly through the barely imbued flame-covered Ethra steel before landing a crushing punch on the face of the ranker who stumbled backwards, eyes wide in shock.
Flames danced around them in a serpentine shape as Tunde released his aura, allowing it to hold it at bay even as he imbued his body again, dodging a blow to his face, landing another one on the disciple who crashed to the ground in a heap, seamlessly relieving the flame cultivator of his void ring. It had taken him less than ten seconds, and Tunde found himself wistfully looking back at the short fight. The ranker had the strongest flame Ethra around, Tunde had expected more from him, either way, he pushed forward, sighting Elyria in front of him, blade in hand as she dueled three disciples at once.
He crashed into one, completely knocking the rock cultivator out and once again stealing the disciple’s void ring.
“Beating and stealing, you’d fit into the bandits of the wastelands,” she said even as she cleanly cut off the arm of an air affinity cultivator and then smashed the pommel of her blade into the face of another, knocking him out.
Tunde shrugged.
“I consider it payment for sparing their lives” he replied.
The large doors to the stronghold opened up again, pouring out more disciples as Tunde winced.
“How many are they?” he asked.
“Home advantage and all that, more or less a hundred from my scouting” she replied.
The liquid metal orbs around her quivered and poured all over her in the blink of an eye, coating her as it shaped itself into armor. Protecting her face, arms, chest, and legs, Tunde wrapped resonance around his limbs, strapping Shadowfang to his back as he crouched, pushing Ethra to his legs and propelling himself forward. The winds blew past his face as he was suddenly in their midst, Ethra sight flaring and feeding him all manners of weaknesses.
He landed among mid-tier disciples, cracking a knee, shattering a chin, and dislocating an arm of the disciples around him. He took out three disciples in his first few seconds, allowing Resonance to blow out the arm of a Cloudsoar sect disciple who had imbued his blade with wind Ethra that felt dangerous to him. Tunde caught the blown-off arm, smacking the disciple with it and knocking him out before unstrapping Shadowfang again and wading into battle.
Blades crashed into the soulbound weapon, finding no purchase as he either deflected them or straight out cut them in two, taking care to only dismember or knock out the disciples. They had committed no crime except by following the orders of their superiors to go against a clan they had reneged on a deal with, it was nothing personal. His Ark kept pinging softly, informing him of the void rings he had collected from the disciples around him even as he watched them chain together large projection techniques.
Rocks became large boulders or shaped into blades or the customary spikes, the winds picked up in the air as the disciples of Cloudsoar sect shaped their affinity into large spears and the disciples of Emberpeak shaped theirs into an assortment of shapes, all raining down on them all at once. Tunde spun his Ethra around him into tiny balls, firing them just as quickly as he could shape them, Shadowfang slapping those he couldn’t away from his body.
Elyria simply waded through him, her hands a blur as both metal and flesh limbs wielded blades that flashed, cutting across the attacks in the blink of an eye. Rhyn was among them again, jade Ethra filling his immediate area as he swung his blade, a line of sharp jade Ethra crystalizing in the air, cutting through the majority of the attacks before shattering into fine mists. The highest-ranking disciple pushed for the doors of the stronghold itself, flanked by Sorin and Thalas who sported a new set of gauntlets.
The doors opened and a bald headed brown skinned man dressed in finely styled brown robes stepped out, his aura unleashed. Tunde staggered under the power, continuously cycling his Ethra as his eyes watered, adept rank, the man who held a long-curved sword with brown glowing eyes staring at them. Rhyn grabbed Sorin and Thalas, pushing them backward even as the adept made a gesture with two fingers and the very ground rose in slabs, interlocking together into a box and imprisoning them right before they escaped.
Tunde’s body shivered even as more disciples appeared, the adept turned his gaze to them before another aura flashed and his body was immediately cocooned in earth Ethra, hands raised as he deflected the fist made of jade Ethra, shattering the earth armor on the arm of the Stoneheart adept.
Jashed Verdan clasped his gauntlets together jade Ethra blooming to life around him in the shapes of large gauntlets, slamming down into the forces of the Stoneheart sect even as their adept fought to reduce the destruction. Tunde winced as gauntlets plastered gore and flesh across the surface of the stronghold’s walls and outer floors, unfortunate disciples dead simply from one attack of the Verdan’s adept.
The Stoneheart snarled, projecting earth attacks that took the shapes of hands as well before going on the attack with his blade, striking at Jashed who snapped his fingers, crystals covering the stone slab prison before shattering them as he went on the attack as well. Rhyn, Sorin, and Thalas shivered, eyes wide as they scrambled backward to join Tunde and Elyria, panting heavily, smelling of smoke.
Tunde wanted to question it when he saw the earth hand of the Stoneheart adept become wreathed in flames, clashing with the projected gauntlets of Jashed. The two adepts exchanged blows ferociously, the force of their attacks tearing across the field as Tunde grabbed an Emberpeak disciple firing flame lances at them. Snapping the wrist of the disciple even as he screamed, Tunde removed the void ring on his fingers before smashing his face into the ground.
He wondered why they were so weak, the disciples, it was a thought that niggled him at the back of his mind, that and the fact that almost all of them had the same type of techniques. Lances, pikes, balls, like they all learned from the same technique manuals. Dumping the passed-out disciple on the ground, he watched the very doors of the fortress blow open as he felt a hand grab his robe and push them forward into the fortress.
Elder Joran was at his side, a frown on his face as he pointed at the glowing rift entrance in the distance, right in the middle of the fortress, protected by several blue robe-wearing disciples of clan Acacia. Some wielded shaped water blades, the rest wielded real weapons, globes of water floating above their heads, they all turned to Joran and Tunde who stared at them.
“Bunch of sea-loving cultivators,” the elder said as he clapped his hands together.
A force wave of vibrations tore forward, tearing the landscape apart as a blue streak suddenly appeared in front of the attack, water coagulating into a solid wall with a gust of wind propelling it as well. It took the brunt of the attack, revealing a tall woman with braided black hair and two blades strapped to her waist staring at them.
“You are not welcome here, dogs of Verdan,” she said calmly.
Tunde watched three other adepts appear, two seemingly guarding a third, a tall lady with snow-white hair and something like mist emanating from her body. She stared at them in silence, eyes gluing on Tunde who stared her down, caution in his every move, Ethra sight revealed her to be a storm of frigid cold white-blue Ethra, her heart a powerhouse of Ethra that circulated her Ethra lines.
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“To be in the presence of the last-born daughter of the patriarch of clan Acacia, this is quite the honor!” Joran said.
“You,” the lady said.
“I’ve heard of you” she completed, staring at Tunde.
“My lady, you shouldn’t talk to rabble,” a male adept at her side said.
Elder Joran flicked his fingers, like he fired something imperceptible to him, the adept reacted almost immediately, the female adept who had initially stopped the elder’s first attack, reacting as well as she drew her two blades. Whatever it was that Joran had fired, the adept beside the lady growled, the lady holding his arm to stop him as she cocked her head to the side, her eyes growing wide.
From the inner rooms of the stronghold came an ominous feeling and then beams of green lights that began to tear through the very floors of the stronghold itself even as the two adepts grabbed the lady, pushing through into the rift and past the disciples of clan Acacia whom all faced the direction an aura Tunde was all too familiar with came from.
All over the stronghold, the war vessels of clan Acacia that were gearing up to face the forces of clan Verdan exploded as the tainted green Ethra tore into them.
“Revenants,” elder Joran said grimly.
*******************************
Alaric dispelled the liquid hold Akero had on him, coaxing his aura to keep him afloat. It was an easy thing to do once a cultivator attained the rank of lord, flying though was another matter entirely. The very effort swallowed mouthfuls of Ethra by the second, eating deeply into his Ethra core even as he swallowed another tier 4 Ethra elixir. Blade in hand, he stared at Akero who stood on a glob of water.
“This is pointless,” Akero said, staring at him.
“Agreed, we could simply postpone our battle till we all breach the rift” Alaric responded.
Akero shook his head.
“No, I simply cannot risk my ward’s safety to the greediness of your clan” he replied.
“It was your clan who came for a rift we already had a deal on with the mountain sects” Alaric countered.
“And so you make them pay for it in blood and lives?, tens of disciples, now dead at the hands of the monsters you breed in your clan,” Akero said sombrely.
“You cannot put this on us, Akero, you promised them power enough to cause them to rebel, break their pact with us, and then feed them scraps,” Alaric said.
Akero gave a long sigh, a smile dancing on his lips as he raised his blade again and a whip of water attached itself to it. The fluid saber style, flexible, reach, deadly, everything needed for a ranker with an affinity of blades and water.
“The weak should know their place” he responded.
The attack came in the blink of an eye as Alaric had already responded, a fine line of jade Ethra honed to a blade’s edge sliced the attacks in two, the liquids coagulating into blades and firing for him as Alaric conjured his as well. The stage of lord was mostly one for experimentation, to see what fused affinities a cultivator had managed to perfect created in a new concept.
The jade sword part had been chosen for Alaric by his father, two fairly common affinities honed to the highest level possible for a lord. To advance past the stage required skill and patience, something Alaric had in huge quantities, something he needed even as he deflected most of the water lord’s attacks, the rest crashing harmlessly against his jade armor that revealed itself on whatever part of his body it touched.
His aura subtly woven around him like a net reduced the strength of every hit, allowing him to weather the rest, still, a lord was a lord and Alaric knew he couldn’t continue to take the attack head-on without reacting. He activated the first of his traps, the air hardening behind Akero in a split second before exploding in a shower of jade crystals that shot for the adept.
A bubble of water covered Akero, slowing the attacks down even as Alaric tapped his blade again and the shards hummed with blade Ethra, slicing the bubble as it exploded, Akero snarling in rage. Alaric was there, finally crossing blades with the water cultivator as both activated dominion at once. A realm of crystalline blades versus a realm of water-shaped blades, crashing against each other with the claps of thunder, tearing into each other with brutal efficiency.
They had taken their battles to the air for a reason, anything around them would have been torn to pieces, ripped till there was nothing but red mists between them. Alaric followed the flow of the battle, moving to the hum of the blades as they clashed and he bent his willpower into making his realm sharper, able to slice cleanly through the realm of Akero just as Lirien would have driven a straight hole through the realm and body of the lord.
A large gash appeared on the chest of Akero who cursed, finally using his water imbuement that left him flexible, pushing himself backward. Alaric was about to launch another series of attacks when he felt a rift open in the distance near the serpentine spine mountain, the base of the Stoneheart sect itself. Eyes wide, Akero paused as well, watching as raw undeath Ethra tore underground through the very earth and into the fortress.
Not even thinking of the sheer impossibility of just what was about to happen, Alaric ignored the lord of clan Acacia, tearing through the air as he burned Ethra, landing right outside the fortress where the adepts of the clan were defending their vessels from the attacks of the high-grade cannons on what remained of the wall, defensive barriers now streamlined to protect the few cannons that were left strong enough to hold back even an adept.
One swing of his blade was all it took to cut in two both cannons and disciples firing them at the same time before pointing at the rift in the distance.
“In, now!” he commanded.
The adepts knew better than to doubt his command, tearing for the rifts themselves as green lights tore out of the very ground, runic inscriptions beginning to write themselves on the ground. Alaric cursed, taking out a crystal for a second before pausing, tucking it back into the folds of his robes, to use it was to admit he couldn’t handle things on his own. An adept was evaporated within the green light, flesh, and blood stripped away to empower the summoning circle that he watched take shape before him.
Pushing his blade into one part of the circle and pumping Ethra into it, trying to disrupt the attack, he could only watch as the circle shunted his power aside, eyes wide. It could only mean one thing, this was a grade 5 summoning spell, a high lord spell, he could only continue to watch as the spell slowly took shape. The adepts retreated, Alaric finding Rhyn, Sorin, and Shiro fighting off the disciples of the sects that came for them, ignorant of the greater threats around them.
“FALL BACK!” he roared, rage in his eyes as he countermanded his earlier command.
Rhyn could only gape at his father in surprise even as Sorin tugged him back towards the ships that fired away at the stronghold, hoping to bring it down to rubble. The disciples of the sects cheered before they were engulfed in the green columns of light, their cheers becoming dying screams of agony as they were stripped of their flesh and blood. In their places stood polished white skeletons with green eyes, staring balefully at them.
[revenants have been summoned!] Alaric’s Ark spelled out for him.
The true reason why the cult of the undead was hated so much, was their ability to do this, raise true revenants. Created out of the empty husks of the disciples they had killed; the skeletal creatures gave a loud shriek of rage as they burned with undeath Ethra that cocooned them like flames. Making a mad dash at the living, they tore into their fellow disciples in rage even as they attacked the forces of clan Verdan.
The adepts of the clan had retreated as well the moment one of them had died. Adept Lyra of house petal bloom, nothing but a walking revenant that summoned sickly looking vines that smelt of rot and decay, her once proud affinity now reduced to an abominable caricature of its former strength, more powerful, more lethal but tainted.
Alaric had no time for this, he had to trace the source of this invasion before the true ranker that powered the circle stepped through. He could only watch as all over the mountain homes of the sects, large circles bloomed to life, more rifts opening up around them. This wasn’t some simple attack by the revenants, this was a planned invasion, someone within the mountain sects had sold their entire sects for power at the cost of complete purging by the empire.
Struggling to gather Ethra in the air as the potency of the Ethra was growing stronger due to the beast surge, he paused as a thought appeared in his mind.
“where’s Thalas?’ he asked Rhyn whose eyes widened.
Alaric turned to the doors of the fortress where more and more revenants now appeared as the summoning circle was complete, disgorging more adept ranked revenants by the second, Alaric tearing through the never-ending hordes. Loathe to summon his dominion again knowing the prize he’d have to pay in Ethra, he made a choice, shielding the vessels as they took to the skies, watching as the entire stronghold became overrun with revenants that laid waste to the three sects of the mountains.
The Acacia clan was surrounded, flashes of techniques released by lord Akero coming from deep within their lines and even those vanished as well. Two things could have happened, the first was that their lines had been cut down by the hordes of revenants, something the cult itself was known for, unending lines of warriors, trudged up from whatever abominable place they always sourced them from. The second was that they had retreated into the rift, a place that wasn’t safe as well but was still fine for the main time, Thalas, Tunde, Joran, and Jashed were now lost to them, either dead or stuck within the rift as well.
Alaric pointed his blade at the mountain fortress of the Stoneheart, the cannons of the clan’s vessels pounding at it with the intent to reduce it to rubble. It was the only way to start disrupting the circle, cut off or weaken their connection to wherever the spell had been grounded, reducing the adept revenants that now came for him, wielding weapons that flowed with vile undeath Ethra.
Alaric unleashed his true strength, his body burning with his aura as he projected hundreds of blades in the air, sending them crashing down on the creatures that evaporated, bones and all. The first mountain crashed to rubble, the column of undeath Ethra coming from its position vanishing as he nodded, the revenants without the protecting and empowering taint of undeath growing weaker as the disciples of clan Verdan returned to engage them.
The other mountains glowed with a layer of undeath Ethra as well as hulking figures that appeared from their depths, releasing a terrifying wave of lord-rank aura. Alaric cracked his neck, loosening the tension on his limbs as he twirled his blade and prepared for battle. The elders and their students were lost to him, although he did find it odd that the same two rivaling sides had been the ones to breach the rifts and not the rest.
He could only hope that whatever happened, if they really were in the rift, then they were safe, or as safe as anyone could be within a tier 4 rift.