[something bad is about to happen]
Tunde received that short but ominous message from Elyria as he got out of the large land vessel, freezing on the spot. Elder Joran turned to him, cocking his head as he spoke.
“What is it?” he asked.
Tunde sent the message quietly to him, eyes straying to the artificer who appeared from a corner leading to the small settlements around the stronghold itself, a large mechanical-looking canine at his side with a large holding for all sorts of melee weapons that glowed. Imbued weapons, straight from his forge, handing them over to Draven who nodded in appreciation, eyes wide already. Joran walked closer to him, whispering into his ears.
“Say nothing to the artificer, we don’t know his role in this,” he said.
Tunde didn’t nod, didn’t give away any expression to show that the elder had said something, simply bowing to Borus when he got close to them.
“Adept Tunde, adept Joran, or is it lord now?” Borus asked.
Joran gave a tight smile, shaking his head even with his stiff posture.
“Tried advancing to lord mid-battle, didn’t work out as well as I thought it would” he replied.
That was a bold lie, especially seeing that Tunde knew that, Borus however just smiled, nodding to himself as he glanced at the thick metal sheets of armor that were being offloaded.
“Infernal brute armor, really durable material, good for armor and weapons, sometimes constructions,” he said.
“you’ve seen it before?’ Tunde asked.
“Oh yes, the guild keeps a record of the different rift creatures being faced around the world, it’s why the Ark knows to name them” Borus replied.
“So, you’re saying rifts tend to repeat themselves?’ Joran asked.
“Theoretically, although it's still being debated that rifts are simply a manifestation of their environment shaped with excess Ethra to give birth to odd lifeforms,” Borus said.
He turned his gaze skywards.
“However, I think we’re about to have bigger problems than theoreticals,” he said.
Tunde glanced up along with him, seeing dark shapes within the dark clouds, unsure of what he was seeing when one swooped down and plucked a person from the walls, the figure screaming into the air before being torn in two.
“Invasion!” Tunde shouted, Shadowfang in hand before tearing towards the wall, elder Joran alongside him.
A few adept powered jumps and he was atop the walls, watching the avian looking creature as they came down again. They looked mottled and tattered, grotesque-looking things that had a foul smell and razor-sharp beaks and claws, nevertheless, he decapitated one immediately, resonance blowing the skull off the other before its claws could latch onto him.
Elder Joran kept firing his vibration resonance into the air, the power tearing across the skies as more and more of them fell, disoriented. The already tired defenders of black rock roused themselves up again, imbued weapons and techniques flashing through the air, holding back the flocks that attempted to bypass them and into black rock itself.
Blistering hot blue Ethra tore through the air, Tunde glancing backward to where the artificer stood, arms folded together and silver glowing orb constructs flew around him, hitting the creatures with continuous beams of power from impossible angles.
[dust cloak vultures, level 3]
These weren’t rift creatures, these were from the wastelands itself, and as Tunde stared into the distance, he saw an impossible sight that chilled him to his bare bones.
“Elder!” he called out
Joran came close to him, touching the ground of the wall before nodding.
“it’s them, they are the ones” he confirmed.
Tunde watched the Ethra cannons whirl to life as they fired shot after shot into the distance, hurling blistering powerful Ethra into the army that was running toward the rock. Harun was at his side, eyes wide as he spoke.
“By the hegemons” he whispered, horrified.
“Gather everyone, protect the people send those you can spare!” he ordered.
Large lumbering forms revealed themselves in the distance, Cinderhide3 tortoises as the Ark called them, red hot shells that emitted steam, shielding the true bulk of the army that was coming up against them. Joran stood at his side, watching as technique after technique flew into the distance like arrows, slamming down into the creatures that were close enough to the walls now that Tunde could make out their shapes.
Large Sandshards, reminiscent of the ones that had attacked him back in the wastelands what felt like ages ago, the large but nimble sand stalkers tearing across the landscape along with the mottled brown things that seemed to phase in and out of existence, his bare eyes not catching them well enough, needing Ethra sight to help out.
He glanced at elder Joran who scrunched his face together.
“We have to keep the bulk of them out of the city,” he said.
The elder had called black rock a city, finally accepting the fact much to Tunde’s chagrin, he nodded.
“Can you stay with the forces within the city?” Tunde asked.
Joran hesitated for a moment before nodding.
“Be careful, something doesn’t feel right about this, it isn’t natural for so many species to join forces together, something is controlling them” he warned.
Tunde thought as much, nodding before jumping off the wall, Ethra spheres and discs forming around him as he fired them into the army, cutting them down by the dozens. A Cinderhide turned its gaze towards him, unleashing a blast of flaming hot orange fire, Tunde twisted out of the way, landing on the creature's shell despite the heat. His relic formed in his hand, a spear, nodding to himself at the ease with which he had called it, even though it significantly drained his heart.
The spear tore through the creature, stabbing straight through its body and instantly killing it. He dodged the swipe of a Sandstalker killing the creature with Shadowfang in his other hand, slicing it in two before advancing into the lines. He was a one-man butcher, tearing through the creatures, a Sandshard hoping to bite him two took a resonance to the skull that blew it away, dropping its carapaces. Ethra sight worked overtime, pointing out the most likely to harm him every second, and his two blades going to work at once as well.
Lances of blistering flames came for his head, Tunde ducking with the agility of an adept before springing, the spear driving through the eyes of another Cinderhide before skewering a bunch of Sandstalkers as well, Tunde twisting through the air to bury Shadowfang into the skull of another Sandshard. Ethra sight suddenly alerted him to the presence of some creatures burrowing their way underground, pushing towards the city itself, Tunde cursed, detaching himself from the creatures as the black swan was suddenly above him, adding its firepower to the battle, ripping apart the assembled creatures, Harun and Miria jumping from above, weapons in both their hands.
Miria with two short black knives that emitted a shadowy aura and Harun with a blue flexible-looking sword. From the ship itself came dozens of disciples, some Tunde remembered seeing and the rest puzzling to him, they bore down on the creatures, Miria at his side, moving seamlessly around the creatures, taking out those who didn’t see her coming. Harun moved with experience gained from spending time in the rift, his water Ethra razor sharp as he cut through the creatures.
It gave Tunde space to deal with the remaining Cinderhide tortoises, tearing at them, his heart straining, absorbing the Ethra in the air and cycling it. He crashed into one when he heard the shriek, a powerful aura spreading through the air, gritting his teeth, releasing his aura as well to counter it, he pushed close to Miria and Harun as well as the rest of the disciples, guarding them a large figure moving through the creatures that parted at its presence. It was a muscular reptile, standing on its hind legs and holding a jagged crystal weapon that dripped venom.
[peak tier 4 alpha mutated Sandstalker]
“Get back” Tunde whispered to the rankers.
“No complaints from me” Harun whispered back as they fought a retreating battle.
The creature shrieked, tearing towards them at full speed, Tunde clashing with it and feeling every bone in his body shake, despite his imbuement. It swung the large weapon in its hands, Tunde bringing both Shadowfang and his relic up to block it before being blown backward. The shock that his relic couldn’t tear through the weapon couldn’t slice through the weapon had caught him off guard, staggering to his feet even as the creature crashed down on him, rolling out of the way.
Feeling the malevolence of the creature as well as its raw primal bloodlust emanating from its aura, Tunde stepped forward, slapping his knee into its face, doing his best to dodge the jagged biting edge of the crystal weapon to avoid the venom on its surface. He kicked at its leg, Shadowfang biting into its flesh as the creature grabbed him and threw him sideways with brute strength. Tunde slammed into the ground with an explosion, picking himself out of it with great difficulty, an elixir of healing in his hand and down his throat, cleaning his mouth.
He strapped Shadowfang to his back, the relic melting away to reform into gauntlets, wincing at the drain on his heart as he popped another Ethra elixir down his gullet, wiping his mouth. The creature roared its forces going for the walls, he lost sight of Harun and Miria, knowing they were neck-deep in the hordes by now. He turned his attention solely to the creature that stepped forward, assessing him slowly before sharp bone protrusions shot out of its forelimbs, sharp claws as well from its hands and toes, its form growing stronger.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
[caution, mutated alpha Sandstalker is entering berserker state]
That was new, was the Ark system bothered about him?, either way, he stilled his breath, feeling the power of the relic flowing through his arms in its gauntlet form, gathering resonance into both of them as he prepared to face down an enraged tier 4 beast.
***********************************
Elder Joran felt the rumblings from beneath the ground as he took a stance, squeezing his fists before releasing a blow filled with vibration and sound Ethra into the ground itself, the combined techniques phasing through the tiled grounds before unleashing pure destruction on the tunneling creatures beneath the ground. Shrieks and squeals came from beneath the ground as the injured creatures came to the surface, completely battered. His mind strayed to the realization that he was finding it easy to blend the attacks of the two affinities together seamlessly, blowing off the skull of another creature.
He landed, tiger’s roar technique going forth from him, tearing into the creatures even as Draven ran to him, handing a bronze blade that seemed simple enough till Joran poured his Ethras into it, the blade humming to life, waves of vibrations flowing heavily from it, undulating through the air. He nodded at the forgesmith.
“Good job, Ryka, and Isolde?” he asked.
“Secured within the stronghold itself” Draven reported, the hammer in his hand imbued with rock Ethra.
“Good, protect them, here,” he said, handing a void ring to Draven.
The forgesmith’s eyes widened at the implied meaning.
“Elder- “
“Get moving,” Joran said grimly.
“You can’t stand the attacks I’m about to unleash” he warned.
Draven hesitated for one last moment, words left unspoken from his body language before he nodded, making his way into the stronghold before the doors closed. He turned to the Sandshifter beetles and Sandswimmer serpents made their way out, one of the largest Sandshards appearing behind them, its large bulk blotting out the sun itself. Joran swung the blade, vibration and sound rippling through the air as he grasped at them, shaping them into blades before they tore through the creatures, more pouring out in their wake.
He felt Giselle, the hardening affinity ranker along with a rag-tag team of cultivators both disciples and initiates. He unleashed his dominion, feeling his tiny realm of vibration and sound surround him as the creatures surrounded him as well, foolishly entering the realm. He sealed it with them within it, the blade flashing echoes and vibrations tearing through the small space as it drained his heart and barely formed nascent core that cracked more.
Wincing as he bit down on the pain, he tore through the creatures, expelling his realm as the drain grew worse, body covered in gore. Blasting tiger’s roar down the hole they came out from, Joran found himself being pushed to the limit for the first time in a long time, not by a lord, or some other really powerful cultivator but by the sheer numbers of creatures that wanted to drown black rock. Blade swinging with raw adept force and a bit of Ethra, he shut his mind to it all, to the realization of what was happening to him, to the fact that right now Tunde could be dead at the other side of the wall.
He was one with the vibrations, with the sound, his movements flowing like water through the air, the blade glowing as it continually burned Ethra. He was stabbed, dodged a few fatal ones, and allowed himself to take the more obvious ones that were nothing but a deterrent, aware that the bulk of the creatures had now made their way across the entirety of the city, the Dustcloak vultures in the air, plucking unsuspecting cultivators into the air. The grimness of the situation was not lost on him, but this was the surge, this was what he and to be honest the clan had been expecting.
He had not harbored any grand illusions of the city surviving the cycles without damage or even deaths, Adamath and the surge were not that benevolent of an existence. Instead, he allowed himself to take satisfaction in the fact that those who would eventually survive would be the strongest of the strongest for their ranks, assuming they didn’t advance as well. An explosion from outside the walls drew his attention, the same dreadful aura he had come to attribute with Tunde flared, his presence as strong as ever.
He smiled, spitting blood before taking his stance again, watching as more of the brown and red-shelled beetles appeared, screeching as they came towards him in a wave. Joran swung the blade, meeting them in battle again.
******************************
Elyria couldn’t believe her eyes, staring at the two lords and Highlady that floated in the air, her silver blade firmly gripped in her hand, aware that the fight could break out at any time. She glanced in the direction where Rhyn was as well as the rest of the adepts seeing them gather their Ethra, preparing to unleash techniques. Rowan floated into the air, carried on a Highlord’s aura, his blade drawn and the pressure of his presence a tangible weight that clashed with that of the Highlady.
“You stand on empire grounds, return or face the full might of the empire’s vassals,” he said calmly.
The woman chuckled.
“funny” she started.
Turning her gaze into the distance she spoke, aura carrying her voice across the entirety of Jade peak as video constructs tuned to her, Elyria silently pitied whoever was in charge of them, a fate so despicable would await them should they survive what was about to happen.
“People of Jade Peak City, I bring the mercy of the regent of undeath!” she continued.
“Submit to the will of the revenant cult, accept the gift of immortality and you will be exalted, refuse, and serve as fuel for the advancement of others”.
Elyria had always pondered who would be stupid enough to accept such terms, to become walking abominations of existences, powered by Ethra so grotesque that life itself struggled to exist wherever they went. Rowan stretched his sword arm out, his aura bubbling around him as his dominion spread out around the entire area, swallowing it up in a storm of raw jade and blade Ethra. It clashed with that of undeath, the collision warping space around both of them as both dominions fought for control.
Elyria’s blade clashed with a ghoul, the rabid creature lunging for her from the safety of its peers, she sliced it in two perfect halves, cycling her adept rank Ethra as the adepts around her sprung into action. The flash of power overhead drew her attention as Lady Lirien, the one dubbed as the merciless spear of Verdan struck with all the fury in her. Her Ethra blistered the air as her spear became a blur, clashing with a female lord of undeath that seemed to vanish in the air, attacking the lady from odd angles, the lord of clan Verdan somehow catching them.
She faced her own battle back, large hounds making their way for them, emitting auras of tier 3 creatures. Realizing the entirety of the skies above them was a death trap should she even venture up there, the ground was slowly being overrun by the creatures of undeath, and the abominable death knights they had faced earlier in the rift. She grabbed an Ethra elixir, downing it as she cycled the power, her liquid metals wobbling in the air, becoming tiny needles that surrounded her, tearing into the creatures.
The trick to fighting creatures of undeath was to damage them enough that they couldn’t regenerate, and that meant actions like taking off or completely eradicating it, something she did with the exploding needles. The first adept to attack her was a brutish-looking thing with half of the skin on its face missing, an eye glowing from a raw skeletal face and a grin clashing with a large axe attached to the stump of its right hand. Its left hand was covered in a green glowing gauntlet, the muscles of its limb filled with veins as his obvious strength Ethra.
She gritted her teeth, old teachings coming back to her as she parried the attack, allowing the force of the axe swing to take her sideways before a series of cuts to his arm had her ducking away from the adept who chuckled.
“Come face me” he bellowed.
She raised her metallic hand, clenching her fists together as worm-like movements within his arm drew the attention of the adept before it exploded, silver barbs tearing out of it. The adept roared, swinging the axe arm imbued with his aura, clashing with Elyria whose barbed metals restricted the healing of the adept's arm. A figure flashed over the adept, relieving him of his skull before kicking it back towards the rift itself, the screaming voice of the adept filling the air as his body toppled over to the ground.
Shiro landed with a frown, twirling his staff and kicking up wind Ethra, nodding to Elyria before shooting sideways to reinforce Sorin who was facing two adepts at the same time. Rhyn was at her side in a flash, blade swinging as he cut through a pack of hounds, drawing her attention to a death knight making its way towards them. The knight raised his blade up, Rhyn swinging in tandem with Elyria, the both of them releasing attacks that clashed with the thunderous blow from the creature.
Lightning gathered overhead before crashing down on the creature that crumpled to its knees, body smoking, unable to defend against a second barrage of techniques from the three adepts that blew it apart, leaving smoking metal and flesh lying on the ground.
“Get to the main palace, we cannot hold here for long!” Moros said before his floating disc blades had to clash with the hammer of another revenant adept.
Elyria didn’t need to be told twice, in fact, she had another plan of her own, and that unfortunately didn’t coincide with defending some palace of the patriarch. All around her, bodies lay strewn as disciples and initiates on both sides clashed, laying waste to each other, crude techniques flying around. She swatted two out of the air from adventurous revenant disciples, wiping them out before they even realized it as she began to retreat when the skies above exploded with red runes that screamed of pain and agony.
Common sense had her covering herself in her aura as the largest headache she had ever felt assaulted her, eyes swimming. Rhyn was no different, even as he gripped his blade hard with one hand, eyes turned to the air as most of the people below did. A figure swathed in linen that wrapped around his frame like bandages, arms raised and his form glowing before he clenched his fists together, a wave of terrible power tearing through the entire area. When it passed through her, Elyria crashed to her knees, willing her blade as well as the other silver liquid metals to shield her and Rhyn in a ball, protecting them from attacks that would inevitably come.
Breathing raggedly, she weathered the attacks that slammed into her protection as predicted, she almost didn’t hear his voice, Rhyn whispering with urgency.
“What?” she asked over the loud attacks.
“Lord Alaric” he replied.
“where’s my father?”
*************************************
Lady Celia watched the attack of the revenants from the stained glass of the jade palace itself, home of the patriarch. Around her laid the strewn bodies of the servants and guards of the house, blood trickling across the ground, staining the expensive carpets and walls that once glittered. She was in the throne room of the patriarch himself, behind her the throne carved and made from jade crystals, saying nothing in silence.
Clenching her fists that were still coated with blood and gore, she spoke into the empty hallway that echoed.
“How did you know it was me?” she said, turning to the figure that had his blade drawn out in shock.
“Father” she completed.
She watched him as he took in the sight, horrified at what he was seeing all around him.
“Why?” he asked, almost as a whisper.
“Why?” Celia replied, cocking her head, a sad smile on her face.
“Because it was inevitable, that’s why”
Alaric turned to her, confused.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
Celia sighed, turning to him as she revealed one half of her body bone white, even to her hair, looking like a pale ghost.
“Were you aware of just what the patriarch and artificer Iphan were planning?” she replied.
Chuckling as she got to respond, she continued.
“Even now the artificer labors to get his research away from here and back to the technocracy, a futile effort”
Shrugging as she stretched her hands out and the dead bodies around them began to shake.
“Celia!” Alaric barked, his aura blistering out in a torrent of power.
“Explain yourself!”
She laughed, Alaric revulsed as the flesh tore off the people on the ground flowing towards her like liquid before permeating her skin.
“I chose a side for what’s coming father, just as how grandfather chose to sacrifice mother to further his agenda” she replied.
Alaric pointed his blade at her, rage flaring in his eyes.
“One more word from you” he growled.
“And what?, you’ll kill me, put me down like some animal?” she said with a chuckle.
Her body blazed as reality seemed to press down on the room, Alaric even more horrified as he realized what was going on. Her entire body became pale, eyes glowing red, pure white hair weaving itself together with aura, and her nails turning pitch black. Black veins ran across her body, outlining the glowing black heart that now sat comfortably within her chest, when the flames cleared, lady Celia stretched her hands out with a pleasurable sigh.
“Tell me, father,” she said, almost as a whisper, lord stage aura and Ethra of undeath pouring from her form.
“Would you put me down the same way you did your brother?” she asked.
Alaric roared as he swung his blade, clashing with the jade staff of Lady Celia.