PART V - NEVER HAVE I SEEN
The Imp hissed once and then sprang forward, the claws on its feet tearing into the ground. Its mouth was wide, oozing spittle as its teeth gleamed in the sun, eyes fixated on the tiny Pixie in front of it.
With a mighty backhand, Pixyl used her ghostly shield to send the Imp tumbling to the side. It rolled, coming to a stop in a heap and shaking its head in confusion. The Imp leapt, but was once again swatted to the side by the Pixie, like a matador deflecting a bull, again tumbling several times. Imps don’t quit, though, and it charged again. Pixyl switched to using her green sword, parrying a series of swift attacks, and jabbing the Imp a few times in return. Still the Demon never ceased its attack, relentless and unstopping.
“There!” Terrin called out, yanking everyone’s attention away from the fight for a moment. “Watch how it moves. Straightline attacks, counting on speed and savagery to overwhelm you. Think about how you would defend against that, both at range for those classes, as well as once you are engaged directly.”
As the trainer spoke, Pixyl continued to hold the imp at bay. She was grinning wildly, using her sword to parry, or her shield to block or bat the Demon aside. The fight continued for almost a half-minute, Pixyl holding the Imp in a stalemate, while Terrin provided commentary, focusing on what the Imp was doing more than the unbelievable sight of Pixyl doing battle.
Callie was worried about her friend. All Callie could wonder was whether the trainers were idiots. Pixyl couldn’t fight Demons like that! Yet, there she was, laughing in glee as she casually parried yet another series of sharp swipes, thumping the Imp on the back of its head for the effort.
At the Warlock end of the field, Vanis was in careful concentration, not wanting to fully detach from the Imp. Terrin had told him to fully release it, maintaining just enough of a connection to keep it summoned, in order to simulate an uncontrolled Imp everyone would encounter in battle. Vanis didn’t want to let go, though, on the chance he needed to pull the Imp off of Pixyl at a moment’s notice. The strain of maintaining such a tight reign was starting to wear on him. “Trainer Terrin,” he said firmly, the implication obvious in his voice.
Terrin looked at his student, seeing the sweat appearing on his forehead. Why hadn’t the fool relinquished control as he had been told? Then he answered his own question - because she’s his friend … and only a Pixie. He turned to look downfield, seeing the Queen of the Marandine Pits almost lazily taking on the Imp. “Pixyl! End it,” he called firmly.
Pixyl instantly replaced her shield with a magenta blade, followed by executing a trio of slashes in a ‘Z’ formation, cleanly slicing the Imp into four pieces. The chunks of Demon meat flopped to the ground with a sickening squelching sound. Almost immediately, the remains of the Demon started to emit purple smoke, beginning to melt and return to the Nether from where they were formed.
Terrin tapped the sigil glowing on his chest, temporarily muting the amplification. “Why didn’t you release control?” he asked Vanis, waiving the other two Warlock recruits close.
“My apologies. A lapse on my part, Trainer Terrin. I was worried for my friend, apparently unnecessarily so.”
Terrin patted his student’s shoulder in understanding. “Step back please and catch your breath.” He motioned to one of the Fairies. “Tovinen, if you could lend your expertise on this next one?”
“You want me to attack her? Seriously?” Tovinen gasped.
“I do. Just remember, summon an Iron Tier Imp, then send and detach. It must be wild, just as in battle” Terrin lectured. “Trust me, Pixyl can handle herself without difficulty.” He gestured to include Dunni and Fynisse. “Three Iron Tier Imps, please, one from each of you.”
“Terrin, when you said that a Pixie was going to be part of our demonstration,” Tovinen said, gesturing to Pixyl, “I assumed she was one of your students. You didn’t mention she was a Bladeweaver. Never have I seen such a thing. I didn’t even know that was possible. And now you have someone with two classes? What kind of place is this?”
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“You haven’t seen anything,” Fynisse said, grinning at the Warlock’s disbelief. “This place is nothing but strange. Wait until you meet our Ogre.”
“Or our Gnome,” Thorn added.
At the far end of the arena circle, Pixyl was kicking smoking Imp chunks out of the way as she prepared for the next part of the demonstration. Shield on one arm and her green sword on the other, she took a fighting stance and nodded.
“Recruits,” Terrin called out, tapping the sigil to reactivate it and getting everyone’s attention, “watch what happens when we send three Imps this time. Pay particular attention to how they behave.”
Terrin again muted himself for a moment. “Remember to release them, this time,” he repeated again, “so they fully mimic what they would be like at the front.”
With a gesture, Fynisse, Dunni and Tovinen each summoned up a Ritual Circle, followed by an Iron Tier Imp, giving the Demons orders to attack Pixyl simultaneously. Instantly, the three Demons tore across the ground, screeching and charging their target.
This time, two Imps charged forward, while the third steered itself to the side, standing back and waiting for an opening. The Pixie casually batted away both of the initial attackers, and then kicked the third in the face when it thought it had an easy opportunity. The first two resumed their vicious assault while the third shook its head to clear it, before again standing back to watch for a moment.
“In groups of three or more,” Terrin called out, “Imps begin to employ pack tactics. One will stand back, or more than one in larger groups, waiting for the right opportunity while their target is distracted. If you find yourself facing off against several, you must remember the pack leaders waiting for you to make a mistake.”
Pixyl swept her leg, tripping one of the Imps before backhanding it with her shield as it fell, sending it tumbling into the wall. Pixyl laughed, almost cackling in glee, as all the years of her former life began to rebubble to the surface. She was in her zone, ducking, dancing or smashing her way out of every attack that looked as if it could end her, and simply enjoying putting on a show for everyone.
“Is this supposed to be funny? How can she be laughing?” Callie asked her friends, seeing them both mesmerized as well as worried for Pixyl.
“She … seems to be doing fine,” Ambria hesitantly pointed out.
“End it!” Terrin called out eventually, and within three seconds, each of the Imps had been sliced in half, two at the neck and the third at chest level.
“More than fine, actually,” the Faun added.
Pixyl stomped around the ring, kicking smoking chucks aside, working the crowd as she smashed her arms to her chest. “Are we having fun!” she called out to the recruits stationed on the walls, nary a stutter in her voice. She then looked across the arena to Terrin and the others, pointing as she issued a challenge. “Is that all you’ve got?”
Trainer Terrin smirked and started getting his people organized. Pixyl continued her parading around the arena, egging on the crowd and getting everyone in the mood for the fight. This was her zone; her world. She was back home.
This time, Vanis rejoined his fellow recruits, as did Iftan, the other Fairy Warlock. Each of them conjured up an Imp, so that there were now five prepared for release. Terrin waited, enjoying Pixyl working the crowd a bit, before she focused back on the task. He nodded sharply to the Pixie once she gave him her attention, then gave a flick of his finger in signal.
The five Imps sprang forth with a squeal, three closing fast while the other two circled, looking for an opening. Pixyl aimed her fist, shooting a blast of Ether at one of the closing Demons. It was from her suppressed hand, though and it just blew the thing back a half dozen meters. Immediately, one of the circling ones stepped in to fill the ranks.
“There! Did you all see that,” Terrin called. “When one of the front attackers fell, one of the pack leaders joined in its place. Now, the one that was downed will take a circling position.”
Just as Terrin had said would happen, the Demon rose, seemed to clear its head and then rejoined the fight, orbiting with the other pack leader, looking for the perfect opportunity.
Terrin let the fight continue for a little while longer, Pixyl periodically blasting or smashing an Imp back to allow another to step in. Finally, he called out his casual, “End it,” and without losing momentum, Pixyl’s shield became a sword, and she sliced through the three close attackers in the blink of an eye, before blasting one at range, vaporizing it from the waist up. She squared off against the suddenly, solo Imp, who true to instinct charged forward. At the last moment, the Pixie simply stepped aside, casually holding out the energy blade as the Imp decapitated itself on it. The already worked-up crowd cheered, enjoying the show as much as the lesson, Pixyl making the experience memorable.
“That’s unbelievable, Terrin!” Iftan said. “Who is she?”
“That, my new friend, is the Queen of the Marandine Pits, and all Demons should fear her.” The crowd went silent as the words echoed around the makeshift arena, and that’s when Terrin realized he forgot to mute his sigil.