Rend flesh, break bone; battle is our calling, war our home.
~ Motto of the Asura Corps of the Rakshasa Army.
Sand breathed in deeply as he exited the protection of the Domain, devolving into a coughing fit as the corrosive miasma attacked his throat and lungs like the sting of a thousand wasps. Bringing his hand away from his mouth, Sand found it wet with his dark blood. Undeterred, he inhaled again, this time, activating both his shards. A black brilliance covered him as the toxins were absorbed by the vessels in his lungs and brought to his heart through his bloodstream. The crystal lattice surrounding his heart absorbed the toxin and transferred it to his bones where the Undead Marrow used it as a nutrient to generate more of the black blood that flowed in his veins.
Stopping the operation of the shards, Sand took stock of his mana. His reserve of apricot yellow mana had reduced slightly to fuel the two shards. With his mind dulled as it was, it took Sand a while to calculate that at the current rate of consumption, he could stay in the miasma for two more hours till his mana levels grew dangerously low and he had to retreat into the safety of the Domain.
He shot a glance backwards. The clearing, the roaring campfire, his bag of supplies; none of it was visible. In their place was a patch of barren ground with miasma covering it. If not for the waterskin filled with blood lashed to his waist and his knowledge of the exact position of the clearing, he would have believed that it didn’t exist.
The intention of the Vampire princess was quite clear in leaving him alone with a week’s worth of supplies. After adapting to his new physical state, he was to set out and survive in these cursed lands. By letting him raise his strength in this environment extremely suited to his Undead Marrow shard, she was reducing the burden on her resources, whetting his fight consciousness and training his survival skills, all at once.
‘As a middle stage Yellow Mage, I can fuse one more Tier 1 shard.' pondered Sand as he moved away from the Domain, the flickering green torchlight only affording him visibility for a few paces around him. Sand was quite curious about the rationale behind the promotion of his shards. Having accepted that his knowledge of magic was incomplete at best, his mind often latched on to any source of magical information he could get. This time, it happened to be his own Thrall transformation.
Going by his recollection of the process, the fusion of the Child shard with his Phlebotomy shard had resulted in the Tier 2 shard that currently occupied his heart. There was also the influence of the Vampire venom and the Undead Marrow shard which had simultaneously been promoted a Tier. The skills tied to the shard had also changed. While previously, the Undead Marrow could only reinforce, repair and produce bone, now it could do the same for blood.
As for the Phlebotomy shard – at Tier 1, it could aggravate bleeding while detoxifying the target at the same time. To detoxify himself, Sand would have to lose some of his own blood. After its promotion though, it had gained the ability to absorb toxins and transfer them to the Undead Marrow shard directly without the loss of blood. ‘Then there was the mana I absorbed from the toxin,' he recalled.
Catching some movement from the corner of his eye - a flash of green - he tried to dodge but his sluggish reflexes slowed him enough for the streak to slam into him, making him drop the torch. The burning branch scattered green sparks as it bounced on the ground and went out, letting the darkness flow back into the area like water.
Pain sparked in his forearm as a pair of fangs sank into them. Gritting his teeth, Sand swung his arm to try and fling his attacker away, only to fail when the serpent wreathed in toxic green flames wrapped its body around his arm, anchoring itself into his flesh with its curved fangs. A searing agony assaulted his mind as the skeletal snake poured its venom into him, his flesh bubbling and melting like wax as lines of green fire spidered beneath his skin.
If this had happened to him but a few weeks ago, he might have succumbed to the paralyzing pain but now, after his soul and body had been tempered in the excruciation of the Thrall transformation, he merely staggered.
Anger dilated his pupils, shortened his breaths and gave him strength to bring his arm slamming down onto the gravelly ground. Once, twice, thrice; again and again the dull thump of stone against bone rang out into the silent night until with a sickening crunch, the skull of the serpent caved in. The flames covering it flickered and then extinguished leaving only the skeleton behind, glowing with a pale green phosphorescence. With its fangs hooked into the flesh of his arm and its body wound tightly around it, it looked like a macabre arm-guard.
‘A Netherfire Serpent,’ Sand observed between gasped breaths. ‘Don’t tell me…’
If he was correct, then he had to return to the safety of the Domain as soon as possible. He winced as another spike of pain seared into his mind, disrupting the chain of his thoughts. In its dying moment, the serpent had discharged the last of its venom into his arm. Most of his left arm was now a mess of molten flesh. Sweat beaded his forehead and his body was shivering at the very precipice of going into shock. Biting down on the hilt of his knife, he activated both his shards as he held his injured arm steady with his freed one.
A black brilliance erupted out of his heart threading through his blood and enveloping his arm. He felt the burning ache in his arm fade as the toxin was drawn out of his flesh – only for his blood to boil in his veins as it bore the venom instead. Muscles clenching, black veins stuck out all over Sand's body from the effort of keeping himself from screaming. His enhanced jaws splintered the hardwood handle of the knife as the boiling blood seared through his vessels and poured into his heart.
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For a short moment, he blanked out, his soul seemingly floating in a void before his consciousness slammed back into his body and the aches returned. Mercifully, they were muted and dulled. More like a month-old scar than a fresh wound. His entire body relaxed, the hiltless blade dropping out of his slackened jaws and clattering onto the gravelly ground. His body followed suit, flopping face first into the grit.
Through eyes dimmed by exhaustion, he caught sight of his mangled left arm, the skeletal remains of the serpent still coiled around it like an ornament. With a quiet crack that sounded exceedingly loud in the oppressive silence, the bones fissured and crumbled like mud left too long in a kiln. Before Sand’s sluggish mind could make any sense of the situation, his heart beat powerfully in his chest and vermillion mana gushed out of it in a torrent that swirled and merged with his own mana and replenished it, sending a jolt through his entire body.
His eyes snapped open as the energy surged through him. He felt freshly rested and bursting with strength. Other than the dull throbbing pain in his arm, the rest of his aches seemed to have miraculously disappeared - the mana having erased them like a wet rag wiped over a slate. Carefully avoiding aggravating the wound on his left arm, Sand pushed himself staggeringly up to his feet, picking up the knife in his uninjured hand along the way.
A sibilant hiss resounded in the silence, echoed from another direction by a lower, more malicious one. Soon, the sound was taken up by more and more serpents in a chorus of rustles and hisses as they took up positions surrounding Sand. The dense miasma obscured their appearance but he caught glimpses of sinuous skeletons aflame with poisonous green flames. And directly in front of him was a Tier 2 Wight, its flaming bones encased in a half-formed layer of burning muscle. Hollow sockets met his eyes reminiscent of an eclipse and the two of them stared each other down in a silent confrontation.
He had been right. It was a Netherfire Serpent nest and the noise of the fight had drawn the colony to him.
Abruptly, Sand threw his head back and laughed, the sound hoarse due to his venom-wracked lungs. He finally knew what the woman wanted him to do, why she had dumped him here like so much extraneous luggage. Here, he was invincible – or close enough for it to matter, anyway. His shards rendered him effectively immune to toxins and in fact, he would only benefit from them. And pitted against the undead that only had toxic attacks, he was in an impregnable position – especially since he could absorb their mana and make it his in the process.
Any mana he lost to keep his shards active, he could recoup during the fight. Any blood he lost, he could regenerate. Any exhaustion he felt would be washed away by his mana. Here was his paradise for swift advancement. The only caveat was that he would have to overcome the pain of the venom searing through his vessels and melting his flesh.
He stopped laughing and turned his gaze to the ring of undead snakes. They had backed away from him at his sudden outburst and were hissing at him, forked tongues of green flame flickering in an imitation of their appendages in life.
He activated both his shards, and this time, he didn’t stint mana. His heart contracted powerfully in his chest and veins bulged all over his body as his blood pressure suddenly shot up. His vision tunnelled and darkened around the edges as the pressure of excess blood affected his brain. Raising the knife to his forehead, Sand slid the honed edge against his skin, his dark blood running down from the cut in a sheet that dyed his face. In a swift set of movements, the knife fluttered about his body, scouring thin lines into his skin. Tossing the bloodied blade away, Sand advanced upon the Wight. With every beat of his heart, blood spewed out of his wounds coating him in the dark liquid.
The Wight reared up, threatening him back with a sibilant hiss and the Bone Monsters and skeletons under its command took up the chorus. Sand maintained his pace, undeterred.
Angered by his unrelenting advance, the Wight spat a column of noxious green fire at him, the heat-less flames roaring through the air.
~Blood Asura~
Raising a bloodied palm Sand intercepted the attack. As soon as the green fire contacted the black blood, it was drawn into his palm in a burst of dark brilliance. Lowering his steaming hand, Sand stared unemotionally at the serpent, his pupils dilating as he felt his blood boiling in his veins as the searing toxins made their way to his heart. Something in him finally snapped and a feral grin split his lips, his white teeth forming a fearsome contrast against his bloodied face and matted hair. The fire reached his heart and the last of the haze covering his mind ablated like snow under the summer sun – scorched away by the pain. Usually, Sand didn’t like to fight, preferring strategy instead but once a fight became inevitable…
Sand fought. And slayed creatures already dead.
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A transparent hummingbird, more of an outline of the avian creature than a bird made of transparent crystal, flitted around the figure of a boy standing amidst a small pile of bone. Its ruby red eyes regarded the figure curiously. Despite his upright stance, his head raised to scream of his victory to the world, he was unconscious. His two hands gripped the halves of the skull of the Wight he had ripped apart – a testament to his feat. All the bones around him had crumbled to ashy debris, leached of all their strength.
A gentle breeze blew through the region and the remnants of the boy’s enemies rose in a cloud of grey dust that merged with the colourful miasma, leaving only his blood-caked figure behind.
With a series of staccato chirps, the phantom bird zipped down to the boy. Grabbing a talonful of his hair, it whipped its wings twice in rapid succession. Their surroundings blurred and they were back at the campfire where it had all begun. The jolt unbalanced the boy and letting go of his hair, the bird let him collapse stiffly to the ground. With a few chirps towards the fallen figure, it zipped towards a woman seated by the campfire. Her pristine white hair glittered orange in the firelight. Her red eyes contained an entire world.
Chirping excitedly, the phantom flitted about her head before landing on her shoulder and affectionately combing her hair with its pointed beak. With a sigh, the woman took her gaze off the centre of the blazing fire and stood. Making her way to the prone form, she looked down upon it with a doubtful expression on her face. A wave of her hand and he vanished, transported to her Dungeon for healing.
Absentmindedly, she stared up at the sky visible through her Domain.
The firmament was greying, heralding the onset of dawn. The clouds of many colours were shedding their coats of grey in favour of more vibrant daytime counterparts. A stiff breeze painted them across the sky in broad, rough strokes. And still Lirael couldn't understand.
‘What drives you so?’