Tunde’s adept rank body weathered the attacks, his hands gripping the relic blade and Shadowfang, a blur of movements as his aura tore through the air around himself and the reaver. His Ark had stopped responding, simply shutting off, an alarming situation but manageable for now, he had learned the cultivation arts without it and it wasn’t needed now anyway. The blood blades slammed into him, Shadowfang shattering them in the air as his relic bit into the thighs of the reaver, the creature swatting him sideways, Tunde hearing something crack within him.
The alpha was nowhere to be seen but the remnants of his forces that had managed to climb atop the wall did battle with the meager forces of the reaver that remained, Tunde itching to go help them atop the walls. Should anything happen to those canons, it could cause untold problems for them, so far none of the cannons had been destroyed, an almost impossible feat when considering the sheer scale of the attack that had accosted them.
Tunde was on his feet, raw power siphoned by the relic flowing through him, burning his Ethra lines as the stolen Ethra from the reaver was neutralized within him, adding to his already bolstered strength. Shadowfang doing the work of a makeshift shield as it parried attack after attack of projected blood blades, Tunde rushed the reaver who roared at him, its form rippling with the sheer muscles of its body, moving impossibly fast but acceptable for a creature of peak tier 4 rank.
That he could even match up to its speed was mind-boggling, but Tunde had taken that fact in stride, Ethra discs and spheres clashing with the blood projectiles the reaver formed, exploding on contact with it and doing just its bit to deter the attacks of the tier 4 rift guardian. Tunde was through its guard with a deft clash of Shadowfang and the blood-formed axes of the reaver, pushing for its body itself when the globs of blood in the air began to wobble, forming into hundreds of sharp needles that came at him all at once.
Resonance sang through his relic, the attack exploding out of him with raw force, detonations coming from all around him, distracting the reaver as he buried the relic straight into its leg, the rift guardian roaring with rage in its voice. Raw power tore through him, Tunde cycling it to the best of his ability even as his senses dimly screamed at him of an incoming attack.
Body smoking, he raised Shadowfang, pouring resonance into it again, his heart pounding wildly in his chest as he could hardly breathe. The blood cleavers of the reaver crashed into Shadowfang, the conjured and imbued weapon of blood exploding violently, Tunde’s body blown backward along with the relic carving out a good chunk of the creature's body with him. He felt his bones shatter as a stinging fire ran rampant through his entire body, unable to hold his screams that ripped out of his throat, struggling to get to his feet regardless, aware that the creature could be bearing down on him at any moment.
Bones snapping and healing rapidly, thanks to the power within his body, he turned to stare at the rift guarding, two stumps where its fleshy and ripped arms should be, gone with black wisps Ethra and aura coming from them. Its leg as well, spurting red burning blood with black wisps of Ethra and aura that ate at it, the creature stumbling for a few seconds before crashing to its knees, its body refusing to heal. All too aware of the corrosive and destructive abilities of his affinity, Tunde got to his feet, swaying for a brief second as his body seemed to drink in the remnants of the power stolen from the reaver that the relic had left. The weapon grew dormant back, apparently satiated as it changed back into its black manacle form, leaving him tired and exhausted. Refraining from taking out another healing elixir, aware of the debilitating effect on the body, he made his way to the slowly dying creature, Shadowfang dripping blood but gripped firmly in his hand.
His mind somehow shut out the noise from the battle going on behind the walls, pausing in front of the brutish-looking creature, its once glowing yellow eyes now dimming as the life left it. Raising Shadowfang, the creature snarling, attempting to move, he slammed it down right on its skull, the weapon tearing through reinforced bones and flesh with a wet, cracking sound that almost had him gagging. Feeling the raw power pour into him as his heart cycled it, Tunde was seized in what felt like a vision.
*************************************
Everything burned, red flames of pure agony and pain, writhing large forms shrieking and roaring within the fires that prevented him from seeing through them. Tunde stood amidst it, impervious to the flames and immune to the choking black smoke that filled the entire area as far as the eyes could see. He was still in his tattered cloak with his battered look, Shadowfang gripped in one hand and his relic missing in the other, alarm spreading through him.
Panicking as he did, he could only freeze as he felt the stare of some malevolent presence lock in on him with such hunger and bloodlust yet infinitely stronger and more powerful, that all he could do at that point was quiver and shake in fear. It seemed to take him in, this presence that spied him from the distance, Tunde felt its gaze shift from him to the rift entrance behind him he realized with fear.
Instincts had him running the moment its gaze turned from him to the rift, powerful legs pumping as he also took in the shape of the double-edged blade that stood blade down into the red burning soil in front of the rift. A part of him wanted to run through the rift, right back to his body that he could see laying right next to the dead reaver whose skull Shadowfang still lay embedded in. Ignoring the fact that he was staring at his own body, Tunde grabbed the blade’s hilt, feeling a familiar power pour through him with something else.
An urgency.
One to turn back and swing at the red flaming creature that attempted to make its way out of the rift, cleanly slicing it in two, its form melding back with the flames. More came, along with the familiar aura of tier 3 creatures, jumping, burning sharp jaws filled with rows of teeth and sharp burning claws attempting to devour him in flame and flesh. This time he faced them head-on, blade and axe in both hands, swinging with reckless abandon as his aura flashed out of him, putting off the flames where it went and snuffing out the creatures as well, revealing skeletal forms that both weapons broke to pieces.
The creatures stopped coming, the malevolent presence retreating, but not with a sense of satisfaction, one Tunde couldn’t help but dread, as if he had fallen for whatever it was after. Either way he went through the rift, the last thought in his mind was the blade melting in his hand and back to the familiar shape of a black manacle on his right wrist.
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Artificer Borus had just assembled his force of grotesque fusions of flesh and metal, discarded bodies he had found a while back that would have belonged to the mauled miners that once called the jade mines home. Left to rot away in the burning sands of the wastelands, some nothing but picked bones and nothing else recovered as well, all made into something useful.
They would serve him even in death as his less-than-appropriate forces, fighting the creatures of both the rift and the wastelands that now ran rampant within the walls of black rock itself. He applauded the thinking of Joran for actually creating safe metal rooms where the people of the still-growing city could hide, protecting them from the bloodbath that was going on around them.
Moving right within their midst, Borus held his forging hammer in one hand, smashing aside any creature that managed to leap past his creations that he hadn’t named yet, their blistering blue energy-burning weapons known to the technocracy as plasma blades slicing through them. Borus couldn’t help but wonder what really was going on, the cannons on the walls were yet to be destroyed, the defenders of the rock, the cultivators that ran around trying to kill off whatever rift or wasteland creatures they could find slowly coming together even as more of their numbers died.
Could it simply be a whim of fate that both a rift and an entire horde of creatures suddenly attacked the rock, or was it in part due to the sapphire gem of raw power that Joran had so foolishly set up within the bowels of the fortress?. He shook his head at the fact, amused at the naiveness of the adept elder, Borus couldn’t really fault him though, when you live in backwater places such as this, you take any measure or path of power that you could find. Saying nothing as he paused, feeling the grounds below him tremble, eyes wide.
“Impossible- “was all he said as large forms broke out of the ground.
The artificer was flying through the air, cursing as the majority of his forces were destroyed, landing upright to find Elder Joran at his side, as if summoned.
“that’s what brought the war to our walls,” the elder said, pointing at the creature that sat atop the Sandshard.
Borus for the first time in a long while genuinely surprised and revulsed at the creature, its perfect humanoid form seated atop the shard with glowing and glistering blue and violet scales, a tongue that tasted the air, reminding him that it was some serpentine horror that had somehow evolved.
“Forced evolution,” Borus said grimly, aware of his broken creations lying on the ground around him.
Joran wielded along rod sick with black and blue blood, twirling it as he took a stance.
“And lord rank to boot, the sure produces abominations” he replied.
The artificer tightened his grip on his hammer, blistering plasma Ethra running through its frame before he unleashed his full might, aura rolling outwards from his frame in waves of blistering power.
“Lord rank?, really?” Joran said, disbelievingly.
Borus chuckled, mind racing as he began to piece together his plan.
“It should suffice for whatever this creature is” he replied.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Joran cursed, tearing for the creature that leaped off the back of the Sandshard, more creatures poured out through the hole in the ground, wielding crude weapons as Joran tore into them with all the rage of a peak adept, his aura diluting around him in a silvery wave of power. As the creature jumped off the back of the Sandshard, a large stalagmite-fashioned weapon in its hands, Borus nodded internally to himself with satisfaction, he had been right about the elder.
Either way, it wouldn’t impede his plans, the only worrying aspect was the fact that he had no idea if Tunde was alive or not, however, he decided that seeing as the elder was still cool about it, he guessed he was in fact still alive. The creature fought with a restraint that shocked him, fighting not with the primal fury of a beast but one with intelligence, its claws that dripped venom and a large weapon powered by so much rift Ethra that Borus felt it eating away at his Ethra slamming consecutively into his hammer.
He parried its blow, a fist slamming into its face, crushing an entire side with a wet sickly sound, the creature grabbed his arm, claws digging into them as he roared in pain, smashing his hammer on its thighs, completely eradicating them as another grew immediately.
“Marvellous!” he thought to himself wide-eyed.
Who or what had created such a creature?, some unseen force aiming for the rock?, a new power looking to usurp the domain of clan Verdan?. Whatever it was, apart from the fact that everything was going to hell around him, Borus wanted to acknowledge them for the creation of such a perfect specimen, a blend of reptilian and other creatures that Borus absolutely had no idea of. Slamming the hammer into its mid-section again, Borus dodged a burning line of spit that sizzled on the ground, the creature creating distance between them.
Glancing quickly to his side, he saw the elder almost being drowned in the never-ending bodies of tiers 1, 2, and 3 creatures, all wanting to tear him apart. Borus knew that while he was indeed a peak ranked adept, there was only so much he could do before sheer numbers brought him down, no reinforcements in sight, and the entire area completely and comfortably cut off by unknown means, a means Borus knew about. Swaying lightly, he prepared his final moves, feeling the venom coursing through his body like the creature had expected it to, aware he could wipe it out in the blink of an eye.
He restrained from doing so, allowing the potency that truly surprised him to begin to calmly eat at him at a rapid pace, his skin already turning mottled grey. Doing his best to shout to draw the attention of Joran who released two projected attacks of vibration and sound Ethra, turning the creatures in his immediate surroundings to flesh and gore before leaping to join Borus who attacked the creature that shrieked in return.
More Sandshards broke their way through the ground, clashing with the elder as he shouted at Borus to stop. He swung his hammer with relish, the runes on his metallic arm lighting up as they imbued the weapon with pure Ethra and force, bringing it down on the creature, his projection technique forming lances of pure plasma energy that struck at the stalagmite weapon with pinprick precision. The weapon weathered it, the large crude but jagged weapon slamming into his side with bone-crunching force, shattering his insides with savagery that had him puking blood, slamming him to the ground.
Borus held the weapon firmly with his metallic arm, watching Joran dispose of the Sandshards that fell on the hole in the ground, effectively clogging it, much to Borus’s pleasure. The elder froze, his blindfolded but somehow perfect sight taking in the scene in front of him.
“Tell Tunde I tried,” Borus said, the runes on his metallic arm glowing brighter.
“Kill the bastard for me if I don’t” he added as the metallic arm exploded violently.
The force of metal and shrapnel biting deep into the creature that roared in pure agony, Joran jumped backward just before the explosion, pushing himself to lord rank again as Borus saw the wince of exhaustion on the adept turn lord’s face. As the life slowly bled out of Borus’s already weakening form, he stared at a lord rank Joran, grinning to himself before dying off, his last thought of the elder against the enraged but still breathing creature.
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Deep below the ground of black rock, a signal was received and machines hummed to life, illuminating a moderate-sized room filled with all kinds of machines, a large looking cylinder though sitting upright glowing to life with rune works before a hissing sound came from it, cold frosty mist pouring out of it opened up slowly.
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Joran’s breath came raggedly from his form, dimly aware of the chaos going on around him, the silver and grey core sitting within his chest slowly taking shape as he got weaker. With a will of steel, he halted its creation, drawing from its uncompleted form as he attacked the creature that was already rapidly healing. With the Ark system dead, its name eluded him, whatever abomination it was, but he could find that out later when he killed it.
Reacting with the speed of a predator, the reptilian creature brought its overly large weapon made of crystal that gave off rift Ethra crashing down on him, Joran imbuing his staff with his silvery aura, crashing into the weapon that almost crushed him into the ground. The creature swelled with raw Ethra and power, its impossible form waxing stronger as it shrieked at him, its aura battering his.
With the skill and calm of an adept that had seen multiple battles, battles that flashed through his mind at that moment, like hazy milky film, Joran batted the creature to the side, one hand wreathed with tiger’s roar slamming into it, pulverizing its ribs and exploding out of its back with force. It staggered as it shrieked, dropping its weapon even as Joran hastily attempted to backpedal. One clawed hand bit into his shoulder as he shouted in pain, hardened almost crystal-shaped claws pumping raw venom into him, shoulders as if on fire as another blow of tiger’s roar slammed into the creature's face before it could spit its acid at him, blowing away an entire part of its face.
His mind rushed through different thoughts, the first being the death of the artificer, whose body had exploded when he sacrificed himself to buy Joran time. Something was off about it, he could feel it in his guts, drinking a tier 4 healing elixir that fought off the effects of the venom slowly, enough to keep him lucid even as the creature staggered. Explosions came from around him, cultivators appearing out of nowhere, facing down the hordes that still ran rampant within the rock.
He spied Draven, the large man with an even larger hammer, battering away at a brown-shelled beetle, its crushing mandibles attempting to break him in two when flame spears slammed into it, and Giselle dropped from above, body imbued to the strength of a boulder slamming into its back, blowing it apart in putrid gut and flesh. They saw him and realized just what he was facing before scrambling out of the way, heading in another direction, Giselle glancing back before making her way towards the walls.
That had been smart, he couldn’t afford to defend them while fighting the creature at the same time, speaking of which, he glanced around, realizing he couldn’t find it. Allowing his vibration Ethra to find it, he cursed, running and jumping down the hole where the body of the Sandshards had once blocked, tearing through them, blood and gore coating him. How it had known about the sapphire gem was of no consequence to him, no doubt someone had sent the creature to recover the stone.
He wondered what sort of enemy they had made that was powerful enough to create such a creature, the continent of Bloodfire was large, the world of Adamath even larger, but Joran could count on one hand the enemies he had and none of them wielded enough power to create or control such a creature. Still, as he tore through the darkened tunnels following the presence he felt in front of him that made its way to the training chamber from below it, Joran held on to his lord rank stage with all of his willpower.
Feeling it attempting to slip away, along with something else he refused to admit to himself, something he had found out the moment he had tried to advance the first time, he burst out into the training room, throwing his staff like a spear as the weapon shot towards the creature, impaling it through the chest and into the wall, its shriek filling the air. Panting slightly, swaying on his feet, the creature turned to him with rage, eyeing the floating blue stone whose power filled the room.
Joran took a deep breath, drawing from the stone itself despite the danger of it, feeling its power flow through him as it stung his Ethra lines, bolstering his rapidly deteriorating half-core. Power flowed through him like a river, manifesting in his aura that took the shape of a black and white tiger, baleful golden eyes staring down at the creature that roared as well, its aura taking a grotesque monster-looking form. This was his last dance, it wasn’t how he saw himself going out, but he could feel it, he had a sense for it, it was a long time coming and he had dodged death a few times. As the creature came at him, Joran found himself taking a stance that was unfamiliar to him, his body relaxing even as he felt it beginning to slowly unravel on a level he didn’t understand, as if he had broken some sort of taboo.
Time seemed to slow down, like the creature was stuck in a jar of liquid amber, its eyes alight with fury and claws outstretched to impale him. Joran moved, gathering his power, tapping into the affinities that fused into one concept at that moment, further unraveling him. Vibration and sound Ethra weaving together like they had always belonged, his feline-shaped aura slamming into the creature the moment he did as well.
The entire room grew bright with a harsh powerful light, a tiny gong filling the air.
***********************
The alpha had almost succeeded, it had escaped the powerful human that held the walls, escaped the battle outside of the building it had tunnelled its way into, and the metal man that had almost cost it its life, its body healing the damage rapidly. It hadn’t recovered from the biting sting of the man he had faced outside the walls, even now it still felt the corrosive power of whatever weapon the man had used on him.
Yet, it had powered through, making its way to its true goal, the glowing stone within the room. The alpha had come close to grasping it, absorbing it, and growing in leaps and bounds when that man appeared again. The one it had come close to killing just a few moments before, retreating in a haste to absorb the stone, and there was something strange with him this time.
Something about him and the way he moved had the alpha’s senses screaming at him to kill the man there and now, and its senses had never led it astray. It moved, claws outstretched, venom on them, aura burning bright, moving its power as it came down on the man with a burst of speed, thoughts of just how strong it would be going through its mind, its inexhaustible armies marching and bringing tributes of meat and shiny things to it.
Those were the last thoughts it ever had.
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Tunde woke up with a gasp, grabbing at his chest as he sat upright, the sounds of battle coming from beyond the walls of the city. He was on his feet, Shadowfang in hand as he stared around him, the rift was gone, all that was left was a smoldering runic circle with inscriptions he didn’t understand, the body of the rift guardian surprisingly still there, decaying just a little like how all bodies of rift creatures did but not actually disappearing.
He felt compelled to move closer to it, the relic humming as a line of fiery red Ethra flowed from the corpse to the relic, the weapon swallowing it up before the body broke down to dust that blew away, leaving a large red glowing core just sitting there, staring at him. It was in his void ring in an instant, flashes of the vision he had seen pouring through his mind as he made his way to the wall, pushing upwards and landing on it.
Teams of cultivators fought through the walls, beating back the creatures that were left, Tunde killing off the biggest ones among them, the rankers could handle the rest. He jumped off the walls and into black rock proper, staring at the destruction around him with shock in his eyes. He tore towards the stronghold the smell of cooked flesh and ash filling the street, soot filling the air, nearly blotting out the sun itself as he came to a stop in shock, unbelieving of the sight in front of him.
The arm of artificer Borus lay on the ground, what was left of his body as well, soulless eyes staring at him from one half of his face that remained. Feeling his legs about to give way, his eyes went to the hole in the ground, Ethra sight activating, revealing wisps of Ethra, one he was familiar with.
“Elder Joran,” he said in horror.
He was through the hole, Shadowfang in hand as he raced towards the end, following the traces of Ethra.