Adrien

Adrien's blade clashed with the ritualists blood constructs. His sword flashed out to block each strike, aided by the additional agility that the griffin provided him. Between him and the heavily armored man, they had managed to wound the blood mage three times in the past few seconds.

Minor wounds. The sort that wouldn’t influence the battle unless it dragged on. Despite the wounds, the blood mage hadn’t bled much. Being able to last long in a battle was one of their strong suits, and forcibly coagulating their blood near a wound was a simple task that many blood warriors used to increase their longevity in battle.

The three backed away from their most recent conflict. The two warriors had been forcing the mage into a melee that he shouldn’t have been able to handle. But handle it he did. He has seen war... his experience is... palpable. The prince thought as he took a few steady breaths, wringing his hands on the handle of his sword. The voralien blade crying in its eagerness to spill blood. Or perhaps that was simply Adrien pushing his thoughts into the blade. It wasn't alive after all.

Sighing he glanced at his armored comrade and they both burst forth, the strength of a lion spurring Adrien. The cobble cracked behind his leap and he soared, inky, dripping wings extending to allow him to better reach his enemy. They dripped with ink and power, the drops never hitting the ground but dissipating and reforming on the onyx wings. Nearby, Adrien heard the sound of battle. He felt his best friends’ rage in the air. It caused even his hairs to bristle along his arms and back of neck. He was glad to have decided to fight beside the Dukes son.

Before he reached the masked man, the slim blood mage backing up furiously as both Adrien and the knight approached faster than most could perceive, a ripple of mana unfolded into the space where they stood. From the center of the circle that was the town square, mana burst and pushed on them. Even Adrien almost lost control of himself as he, in midair, was nearly thrown to the side. His wings buffeted the air, stabilizing him and keeping him in line with the stumbling enemy.

A grin spread across his face. Liana had done it, although the individual backlash seemed minimal. Perhaps the one he faced was not the designer of the ritual. It mattered not. The man before him stumbled in his retreat and Adrien took advantage, his sword dropping towards him like a meteor. He felt flesh give way and bone crack then break under the heavy strike. Due to the shockwave pushing him back, Adrien was unable to cleave the man in half as he had intended, but still a deep gouge was carved from his shoulder and across his chest.

The Weatherlight knight had also stumbled from the blast of mana, but a moment later his greatsword also cleaved down. Intercepted by a blood spear, it pushed down shattering the crystalline blood, and took one of the enemy’s hands at the wrist. It was a paltry injury at this high level, but would inhibit the foe until they were able to land one more deadly.

They wouldn’t get the chance. The mans eyes behind the mask widened from the ritual breaking, from taking grievous injuries. Making a hasty retreat he called to them, “Tis been fun, friends. Mayhap I’ll see ye again, aye Prince and Duke’s son? The tournament of Rhosha approaches!”

Neither the prince nor the duke’s son responded. They didn’t feel they needed to. The threat wasn’t so much to give them pause but they knew better than to attempt the chase. Rightly, so, as the bloodmage quickly fled far faster than either warrior would have been able to follow. Panting, Adrien exchanged a glance with Weatherlight as the sounds of conflict through the city halted.

Elric

The man cackled as his greatsword slammed into the man in blacks spear. A resounding thunk echoed through the streets, buildings laying in rubble around them. Elric’s red aura encountered the spearman's purple one with vigor.

GlimmerFang sang her delight as her tip found a weak spot in the spearman's armor. The armor had been whole nearly seconds ago, but now was marred by gouges and scars. Elric’s flesh was much the same, although his chain shirt only bore a few wounds. The material was far too strong to be pierced by the enemies spear.

Elric roared as he swung GlimmerFang, a weapon his father had had crafted specifically for him prior to hs joining the prince on this adventure. The very same weapon that Elric had infused with his emotions, his will, his power and his mana. The very same weapon that he, as a berserker of sorts, bound with blood and rage to himself. The blade was heavy, and if anyone other than Elric attempted to wield it would grow heavier still. It was eternally sharp, and forever thirsty. A weapon made for combat, that lived for combat. It had no will of its own but it did have desires.

And Elric sought to feed her.

The spearman stumbled back as he blocked the slash, his hands trembling from the exertion of having to do so several times a second for the last little bit. Even as he blocked, the aura of rage surrounding the blade sped forward, cutting through the armor and into the mans chest. It was, of course, far less damaging than taking the blade itself, but it was damage nonetheless. The aura continued, through the body and into the brick building beyond, carving into it. Rubble cascaded down from the wall as the aura returned to cover the blade once more. There was a reason Elric rarely used his aura skills while fighting alongside friends, he had little control over it.

The armored man backed away, sidestepping so as to avoid being pinned between the hulking Elric and a building, as a pulse of mana was sent through the street and then to the town. Being so close to the focal point, both men stumbled briefly, and given the multitude of wounds marring the spearman, Elric recovered first. Not one to waste time, he leapt forward. His muscles surged with his mana, using one of his few mana intensive skills, and he felt his legs bulging with power and arms straining as they sped up. It was, naturally, his own version of a haste spell. [Maniacs Alacrity] tugged on his emotions, nearly overwhelming his mind with them as they took over his body allowing him to exceed his current limits for a short time. The skill was limited, he could only activate it alongside his aura and only while “raging” as he was now, but despite his rage Elric was still in control, for the most part.

Taking the advantage that Liana disrupting the ritual had given him, he slashed horizontally before the spearman knew he was upon him. The edge of GlimmerFang crashed into the spearman's side, just beneath the ribs, and cracked his armor. The man, weighing more than enough that this shouldn’t have happened, was tossed away by the strike into a building across the street. The building had already been damaged by their fight but that did not compare to a fully armored warrior slamming into the already falling brick walls, collapsing the rest of the building on top of him.

Elric panted, deactivating [Maniacs Alacrity] before it could overcome his mental walls and strode toward the rubble. A grin was on his face as, steps away from the crumbled building, he received a notification alerting him of the enemy’s death. A second followed making his eyes light up further, he had leveled up. Finally. It always took so long to level after the first threshold.

Amelia

Chasing down rats had become even more of a bore. Amelia lazily sped down the streets until finally she reached the outer walls. She was surprised that everyone she encountered had been weak, well weaker than anyone on her team. Far too weak to have overtaken a town of this size on their own. Granted there were a ton of them. One hundred and four had fallen to her hands.

She extended her senses. She felt for any living breathing being, filtering out those too small. Bugs, rodents, vermin of all sorts would be prone to escape her senses but that was fine. The refuse she sought were humanoid. The cultists. She sensed no others. It had only taken her a minute or so to find the last of them and so, feeling confident that there were none left, she started to head back to the center of the city. Even from her current distance in the circular city, she could hear the blood rushing through Elric’s veins. Could feel his rage as though it were her own.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Truly, if it were her own this entire city would be leveled. Amelia did not have the self control that her friend had, should she ever become a berserker she knew she’d slaughter. It was just one of many things she respected of her friend. His kindness, strength and generosity were all well and good, but he possessed power many dreamed of and the ability to control it. The ability to keep it from driving him mad.

As she continued toward the center of the city she felt the wave of mana pulse through the streets. It vibrated then shattered the windows near her, what few there were, but did not much more than that. Evn still, Amelia could tell the ritual being broken is what caused this. That the thing causing so much suffering was destroyed, and hopefully the castor along with it. It was a complex bit of magic. She had no doubt that some day the boy would become capable of casting such a spell on a whim, though he was not there yet. It was a miracle that Liana had taken to studying runes at Lios’s behest, she was far quicker than any other wizard Amelia had met at her level, and so the party had entrusted her with destroying the ritual circle.

A grin crossed over Amelia's ruby lips. To an onlooker it might be odd to see a petite, well dressed woman skipping through the bloodied streets while smiling. There were no onlookers. She had killed most of them and the rest were hiding. It wasn’t the slaughter that she was grinning about, but that it seemed they had won. No doubt, the remaining cultists would flee now that their plan had been disrupted. The Inquisitors of Ironfell would likely be able to investigate the runes littering the city and discover exactly what these heathens had planned. None of that mattered to her though, only that if they retreated she, her friends - her family - would be safe.

Liana

The world around her exploded with mana. Power overflowing from the broken ritual. Liana extended her senses and sensed no one, much to her chagrin. She stood and turned toward the longhouse, the people inside would likely need help even if Lios had managed to assuage their worries. She started walking toward it hurriedly, not quite running.

From nearby, she heard the roar of Elric followed by a calm. It seemed the clash had ended. The sounds of battle were fading away. Liana tried not to feel guilty about hardly facing any of the enemies herself, she had fulfilled her role but she still wished to have been part of the group that fought these scum.

As she was thinking, a woman in the robes of this cult sped past, blood flowing from her chest and some smaller wounds on her arms and sides. Liana quickly fired off a spell, a quick blade of wind seeking the woman. It missed as the woman dodged, twisting and audibly wincing in pain. As she did so, Liana could see Lios’s weapon embedded in her chest. She hadn’t removed it yet, for whatever reason. The woman did not attempt to stay and fight and Liana did not pursue her. She instead headed to where she thought Lios would be. If the woman had his sword...

__________________________________________

My mind was on overdrive. Two seconds had already elapsed and I hadn’t managed to finish the fight. Even with both Luka and Sky doing all they could to inhibit my enemies movements, I couldn’t connect with her. Even with my lightning lashing out at her whenever we connected, I couldn’t slow her down enough to hurt her.

My muscles were on fire. Lightning was coursing through my veins and both hands were glued to the handle of my crackling blade. It felt as though my insides were being melted from within. I gritted my teeth through the pain as, in a microsecond, I saw an incoming attack, a stab with a jagged and nasty looking dagger held by the puppeteer and raised my blue green blade to parry. My muscles acted the second I had the thought and sparks flew at the clash.

I wasn’t sure how my mind was keeping up, my body was faster than it had ever been before. More reactive, stronger, more explosive. My arms pulsed with foreign energy as lightning mana flooded my pathways and veins. With the wind behind me as well, I felt unstoppable. Yet I was being stopped by the masked woman. Her eyes were filled with derision. Briefly I wondered at her level but I quickly shook myself free of the distraction. All I knew was that she was stronger than me. Faster too. I wasn’t sure why she didn’t try to control me as a puppetmaster, but that thought could wait too. Perhaps it was due to my magic cutting her strings?

No matter. I moved, spurred by the wind and by lightning. My body responded quicker than it should. I could barely feel it, but feel it I could, as some of the strands of muscle in my arms and legs stretched and snapped. Teeth gritted, my blade lashed forward. For once in this conflict I was fast enough to go on the offensive, to push her on the back foot. And so I did. Dozens of movements in a second, the clang of our weapons piercing the empty street.

And then, a rumble and a wave of power. Mana flooded my senses, nearly blinding me through [Portent], and nearly caused me to stumble. The sound of glass shattering had yet to hit me as the woman before me halted for an iota of a second. Still, it was enough. With rage boiling in my chest from the hapless slaughter these... these monsters had committed, I lunged, thrusting the Mercurial Promenade toward her chest.

In that moment, I felt a dozen, hundred, thousands of things at once. My muscles straining from the split second movement that they could not handle just yet. My heart racing faster and thumping loudly in my chest, each beat slow in my ears but I knew that was just my adrenaline. I felt a blade of wind enter my senses, flying toward the woman. A stone shooting upwards from the ground. And then, the feeling of mana pooling in front of me, weakening the earth. The cobbles sinking in deeper, almost imperceptibly. I felt as though my head was going to burst as blood dripped from my nose, and even from the edges of my eyes.

I felt the push of the explosion of mana, and heard the rumblings of buildings collapsing throughout the city. I saw the moment, the chance, to waylay this enemy forever, to prevent them from committing another atrocity. I felt the rage of the souls left behind in this town pushing me along as my vision swam from the excess physical exertion, stars lingering at the edges of my sight.

The woman ahead of me shook herself free of the distraction moments before my blade would pierce her heart, and twisted. She was unable to back away as her foot slammed into the soft earth and sank deep, the earth hardening the moment she tried to pull away. Fear and anger and desperation lit her amber eyes. She arched her back to dodge my blade but I could tell she wouldn't be entirely successful. My only hope was that the tip of my sword would be close enough to her heart that when I sent all of the lightning through it could cause a heart attack, or something similar.

Her right hand blurred, the dagger held within lashing out towards me. I was moving too fast, my momentum was too much for me to dodge. I raised my left hand, releasing it from the handle of my longsword, in an attempt to bat the dagger away. It was headed directly for my throat. My arm, in that moment, flashed upwards and to the side in an attempt to knock the blade away. I felt the blade connect with my forearm, just a few inches below my elbow, and slice through the flesh before sending a wave of agony through what nerves were not being electrically fried. The crack of the blade as it broke my ulna followed by my radius echoed through the street, or at least it pounded itself into my subconscious as I watched my hand fly and blood splatter.

Blood sprayed as I felt the promenade pierce her chest, barely feeling an resistance in the face of the razor sharp blade. In that instant, as I pulled the blade down, I sent all of the stored lightning mana into the woman’s body. The dagger, though slowed, was still slashing toward me as I barely managed to duck, saving my neck from it. In the next instant, using what was likely the last of the energy from Lightning Burst, I pushed backward kicking off from the stones below. She reached in an attempt to grab my wrist but instead grasped the hilt of my blade, holding it tightly enough that I was forced to release it as she finally broke free from Lukas spell and backed away herself. Her eyes gleamed with fury and shock as blood trickled out and soaked her robe around the wound I had wrought. My blood trailed after me in my retreat, dripping and splattering on the ground as my body ached and trembled from exertion. I tied to hide my displeasure at losing my sword and attempted to prepare for the next clash but she simply continued to back away.

“Seems play time is over. Next time I won’t consider making you a puppet, you’ll be dead before you see me. Worthless swordsman.” Her movements were jerky and her voice was strained as she continued to back away. Her blood dripped onto the cobble as she fled with my blade in her hands.

I didn’t bother to reply to her. Instead, I stumbled and with trembling hands grabbed a sword from one of the folks I had killed. As I went to stand back up, my body gave out and I collapsed. My vision was blurring, going dark. My last though was to press my stump against some cloth but I couldn’t move. As the world fell away I heard a muted Ding in the back of my mind. I was too tired to check it.

If this was the moment I died again, I’d prefer not to do so looking at a blue screen maintained by some sociopathic system.

I felt the foxes come towards me. Luka licked my hand, the one that was still attached, while Sky came up to lick my face before rushing off. Vaguely I heard her voice in my head and Luka’s before the world finished darkening and I fell to the great black.