“What is birthed from dust, must also return to dust.” A calm voice permeated the elemental chaos storming around him, “Even something as mundane as water may be transformed into a murderous tide under the right conditions. But with the touch of transmutation… with the ability to influence the very structure of this world - I may yet put an end to the cursed one’s machinations.
The limitations of the power granted to him by the God of Many Faces were difficult to ascertain. He could transform water into fire, lightning, earth - even blood, if he so desired. But a fundamental law of the universe prevented him from doing so recklessly. Attempting to turn a puddle of water into gold, for example, would result in barely a nugget’s worth. The two were not ‘aligned’, to use the alchemical term. But forces - naturalistic extensions of nature - could be transmuted from the decanter with terrifying swiftness.
Flames, to acid, to pillars of earth. Wherever he spotted a cadaverous aberration, another miracle of nature sprouted to halt it. And his talents were not limited to water alone. With a twirl of his focus, the obsidian homes of his city transformed into heaps of soil, creating landslides to block the Order’s advance through the streets.
“I will stop them here.” He declared, “This farce cannot be allowed to continue. Lieze Sokalar has abandoned the beauty of life in her quest to seek greater meaning. For the sake of this world, she must meet her end in the darkness.”
The Shaman next to him was busy making out the whispers of an assassin leaned into his ear, marching backwards in time with the rest of the Black City’s untouched army while Kesset flayed the Order’s numbers with his spellcraft.
“I understand.” He nodded, “Kesset.”
There was a break in the chaos of transmutation just long enough for the Head Shaman to recognise that his name was being called, “Is there a problem?”
“The assassins have reported another group breaking through the city walls.”
“A pincer movement? Very coy. But that won’t be enough.” He replied, “Send the old master of the guilds their way. We must preserve an escape route to the palace if Lieze Sokalar attempts something desperate.”
“That’s just it, my friend. The master is…” Unable to finish his sentence, the Shaman trailed off.
“Dead…?” Kesset’s concentration waned, “I believe it not! By whose hand?”
“The… the kinblood. The betrayer.” He answered, “-And he is nowhere to be seen.”
“To think an exile would prove so capable…” Kesset paused, “You must take the others and confront these would-be ambushers. The Order will gain no ground here for as long as I remain. Take half of the civilians with you, but try to preserve them. I do not wish for unnecessary sacrifices.”
“I will not argue. There is no time, and you are my leader. I must trust your judgement.” The Shaman nodded and raised his arms to grab attention from the crowd, “To me, my brothers! And to those of you who can muster resistance against the undead - come and raise your blades against the cunning foes who seek to encircle us! We must guarantee Akzhem's victory!”
With more than enough space to manoeuvre themselves towards the city’s rear, a detachment of the civilians and Shamans from the main force departed to intercept Marché and Roland.
“They’re thinning! They must have taken the bait!” Drayya poked her head over the scalp of a tall Gravewalker, “Lieze! We need to take this chance! While the Head Shaman is exposed!”
“I won’t bother holding anything back, in that case.” Lieze closed her eyes, “What use is there in limiting ourselves? We either win this battle, or fade into history’s obscurity. I don’t plan on subjecting my legacy to the latter.”
[Summon Supreme Flesh Golem] Activated Remaining Heavenly Favours - 3
Taking a breath to prepare herself for the pain, Lieze pulled out a dagger and clenched her teeth.
[Supreme Regeneration] Activated Remaining Heavenly Favours - 2
One blissful minute of rapid healing. As soon as the notification popped up, she plunged the dagger into the flesh of her right shoulder. The tip rammed against her bone. She drove the blade right down the length of her arm until there was no more skin left to split. The embrace of warm blood trickled down to her extremities. All the while - much to her chagrin - she focused on the chaotic state of her HP to avoid a nasty death.
Lieze’s HP - 322 / 404
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Lieze’s HP - 372 / 404
Lieze’s HP - 282 / 404
Lieze’s HP - 332 / 404
Up and down - she watched it tick like a pendulum, steering towards her death before springing back in the next instant. Her wound was knitted by the Blackbriar’s profane flesh, but she didn’t stop her mutilation there; a source of great power was then flowing through her corrupted veins - the beautiful, agonising Materia.
“Lieze…” Drayya went to restrain the girl, only for her hands to remain extended like a common Gravewalker, paralysed by the sight, “Lieze! Stop! That’s enough!”
Her trial of agony was punctuated by the arrival of a second Flesh Golem rising from its profane summoning circle. It was as close to Kesset as Lieze could manage, threatening his army with total decimation if he didn’t make an effort to retreat.
Lieze’s hairs stood on end. Remarkably, her arm was mended, though not by the gentle touch of restoration. A crooked puzzle of thorns had overtaken her flesh, spurting fresh Mercuria from the wounds she had continued to inflict upon herself. The result wasn’t something that could be recognised as a ‘limb’, but the twisting digits at its end functioned well enough as fingers.
Drayya was kind enough to collect the Mercuria using [Blood Manipulation], understanding of the need but not at all pleased by Lieze’s display of self-mutilation.
“You didn’t need to do that to yourself.” She furrowed her brow.
“No. I did.” Lieze breathed a sigh of relief, “My supply of Mercuria was running low. This is all I’ll ever need for the foreseeable future.”
Two litres, give or take. More than enough, she thought, to be worth the anaemic headache. The Mercuria vanished into her Bag of Holding.
“Lieze…” Drayya tugged on her sleeve, “The Golem…”
Wary of the girl’s tone, she squinted towards the distant silhouette of the titan, picking apart its outline from the darkness. Something about its flesh was off. Not entirely physical - as if some governing force of the universe was boiling and vaporising its very blood. Lieze lowered her gaze to where Kesset stood, just barely recognisable in the beacon of her lantern.
His focus was directed skyward, towards the Golem. Lieze switched subjects again, and she witnessed beyond all shadow of a doubt the giant’s flesh transmuting into inky smoke, flesh melting into a cloud of descending darkness spreading out from its titanic footprint.
“You’ve just given him more ammunition to use…” Drayya muttered, “If he can do that to living flesh… we can’t even get close to him!”
The clouds fell upon them, gathering into a great mist spreading through every street. Suddenly, they were blind. Blinder than usual, that was. Lieze could barely make out Drayya’s features as the fog rolled in, and found herself with a terrible itch in her throat whenever the smoke was inhaled.
“That bastard… he’ll use this cover to reposition!” Drayya held a hand up to her mouth.
“If we can’t see, that means he can’t either!” Lieze replied, “We’ll use the Manticore to approach them from above! We’ll be able to see over the smokescreen that way!”
A stray thought revealed their position to the beast, who shouldered past Deathguard and thrall alike to join Lieze’s side. She could only make out its rotting legs in the fog. Drayya coaxed her shadow - the unseen form of the Void Beast - onto the Manticore while Lieze hiked her way onto its uncomfortable, bristled back. “We’ll be attacked by assassins once we’re up in the air!” She said.
“No need to worry. Fudge will take care of any Elf foolish enough to attack us mid-flight.” Drayya took Lieze’s hand and yanked herself up the rest of the way, “Now go! We can’t let the Head Shaman escape!”
The Manticore’s beating wings revealed some clarity through the smoke before they ascended. Lieze could see the fevered expressions of her Deathguards; the horrifying but dependable gait of her thralls; the warm, forbidden lamplight casting rays through the smog. She was all at once nostalgic and resentful of a simpler time, half-convinced that her journey across Fanrae had been nothing but a dream all along.
But no - the wind-shear of Akzhem’s contained sky was too harsh against her face. The chill of the Manticore’s rotten flesh wasn’t a discomfort her dreaming mind would allow, and nor would her fragmented, jeering love for Drayya exist within the realm of fantasy. Whether it excited her, saddened her, terrified her - it couldn’t be denied that in that moment, she was absolutely alive.
“I can’t see a thing down there…” Drayya had both arms on the Manticore’s bulging shoulder, staring down to the low but heavy smog plaguing the Black City’s streets, “What’s the plan?”
Lieze paused, “...We’ll use the Grotesques to stage an aerial attack.”
“-If we get anywhere near the Head Shaman, he’ll turn us into… into anything! Anything he wants! We can’t risk closing the distance!”
“No… like you said before, there are limits to his abilities.” She replied, “He was able to transmute the Flesh Golem into smoke because dead skin and muscle aren’t nearly as difficult to work as a living being. I doubt he could kill us instantly - he would have done so already.”
“Even so… we’re diving headfirst into an entire army!”
Lieze could see the dredging fear hidden in Drayya’s gaze.
“I suppose we are.” She nodded, “-But our thralls don’t stand a chance if we don’t find a way to destroy the Head Shaman’s decanter. Plus, we’ll have support from Marché and Roland once they make their way here.”
“You’re not worried that they might be dead already?” Drayya raised an eyebrow.
“I wouldn’t have sent them at all if that was the case.” She answered, “They’re rash. Predictable. Disorganised. But they never die. They proved that in the Dwarven Mountains. I have faith in them.”
Drayya sighed, “...Fine. Fine!”
She worked her way up to the Manticore’s neck, struggling to keep hold of her focus, “We’ll take them on! When was the last time my blood trembled in the shadow of death!? To follow you, Lieze, I don’t need-”
Her words were cut off by a silhouette landing upon the Manticore’s head. Drayya, stricken with surprise, tumbled back towards the beast’s flank. Lieze reached forward to catch her with both arms, already preparing a [Blood Spike] to deal with the interloping assassin. Perplexingly, he had no interest in killing either of them, instead plunging both knives directly into the Manticore’s eyes.
Jets of discoloured ichor preceded a drastic change in the beast’s trajectory. It spun and veered across the empty skies, unable to remain in flight, bleeding altitude as the creature and its occupants struggled to maintain their balance.
Lieze only had a few seconds to react before they plummeted back into the smoke.