(Charles)
“Is that the best you’ve got, pup?” Charles taunted, borrowing from the okamijin vernacular. Notching another arrow, he dashed out and fired a quick shot. He slid behind the next tree for cover as the projectile blew up, just like the last two.
He pulled out a sewing needle and pricked his finger, casting Stitch. [Stitch] was a Physician ability from his Outfitter framework. It allowed him to mend clothing and minor wounds.
Normally, ritual abilities like Stitch couldn’t be used in combat, but Charles’s aura, Drive, got around that limitation. [Drive] was a Willpower ability from his Fire framework. It gave him the focus to perform rituals in combat, at the cost of increasing their cooldown. His wounds sealed shut, but Stitch wouldn’t be ready in time for Dreadfang’s next attack.
The white prisms reformed with their rhythmic crackling, signaling the nova readying another barrage. Prepared, Charles downed the ironbark vial he’d picked up from V’ega’s earlier. It reduced each instance of damage by a minor amount and was effective against Dreadfang’s crystal form attacks.
Another volley of crystalized shards coated the area, peppering both soil and wood. Charles braced himself for the secondary effect—Boom. Rocks, splinters, and dirt blasted him from all sides, his attire too tattered to intervene again.
A thick haze of soil and sawdust swirled, obscuring the surrounding area. Proprioception kicked in, warning Charles of the falling trees and their trajectory. He didn’t wait for his sight to clear, taking off toward Dreadfang while still hidden. Now he needed to get Dreadfang out of his transformation.
‘Stage four: break the seal.’ Not a single tree came down on him for his poor judgment and recklessness. It wouldn’t have killed the common-ranked adventurer, but a little karmic justice would’ve been nice.
Dodging debris—rocks, dirt, and trees—Charles made his way to Dreadfang. He’d already stowed his bow and unsheathed two daggers. One was common-ranked, specialized in resonance damage. He found his other mundane blades worked well and hadn’t yet decided on any enchantment upgrades. He’d gotten the resonance dagger from a lootbox. Charles had two fighting style abilities: Skirmisher Style and Triple Sword Style.
[Skirmisher style] was a Swift ability from his Ranged framework. It allowed him to reload his weapon in the blink of an eye. He could wield shortbows, dual wield pistols or hand-crossbows, or a mix of both with proficiency. [Triple Sword Style] was a Balance ability from his Melee framework. It allowed him to dual wield any combination of dagger, shortsword, and longsword with proficiency.
Dreadfang howled in surprise as Charles plunged the resonance dagger into his back. Relying on the nova’s confusion, he pressed his advantage, striking with impunity. Normally, Dreadfang enjoyed the protections provided by his crystalline form: damage reduction against most damage types. However, resonance bypassed those protections, maximizing its carnage against crystal and stone defenses.
Leaping back after the third stab, Charles watched the crystals drop to the ground as Dreadfang’s body shed them and untransformed. Charles wasn’t worried the nova might retaliate; he just needed space to throw the grenade.
He readied the rainy-day explosive and chucked it at Dreadfang. Another micro bolt of fire appeared, intercepting the grenade, but it was close enough to still drench the okamijin with water. Charles grew concerned—Dreadfang’s ranged defense might not have a cooldown. He traded his resonance dagger for a shortsword.
Dreadfang stood there, confused. Holding out his hands, he inspected his soaked, unharmed body. “Water?” He snorted, sending droplets flying from his nostrils.
Charles gave him no time to think, diving back in with both blades ready. Dreadfang bared his teeth in a menacing smile, made a fist with his good arm, and did exactly as planned. Arcing energies ripped across his waterlogged coat. He stood convulsing in pain, paralyzed by the shock as he electrocuted himself.
Charles grinned as Dreadfang writhed. His ability to charge his unarmed strikes backfired, sending the full power back into his now-conductive body. Charles needed to use this time wisely. He carved away, focusing on Dreadfang’s torso. It was surprising how much abuse a common-ranked adventurer’s body could take. Charles got in several clean strikes, leaving the nova gashed, punctured, and bleeding before he could recover.
Dreadfang threw his head back, letting out an echoing roar. This was how he activated one of his most potent buffs. Readying himself for the next assault, Charles hoped he’d done enough damage. The okamijin’s good hand morphed into a long-scythed mantis blade. Winding up, he swung at the rugged elf’s neck.
Charles raised his shortsword in defense, activating Executioner’s Block. [Executioner’s Block] was a Death ability from his Melee framework. It blocked an attack, reflecting double the damage back if the attacker was within execute range. If not, the ability would enter an extended cooldown.
The block succeeded, but Dreadfang took no damage. “That’s unfortunate,” Charles muttered as the ability went on a one-minute cooldown. He hadn’t done enough damage to bring the nova under a quarter health—the execute threshold for the ability to retaliate. Dreadfang readied another swing.
‘Brand?’ Charles debated. ‘No. I’ve still got options.’ He threw himself backward, catching a gash across his chest as he hit the ground. Rolling to his side, he quickly picked himself up and dashed away to create space to think.
Between Dreadfang’s aura and that roar buff, even his regular attacks hit exceptionally hard, and Charles knew he couldn’t take many more direct hits. Over the next minute, he needed to carry out two tasks: get Dreadfang into execute range and avoid dying. He had a potent ability that could accomplish both tasks, but it came with unfortunate side effects.
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Out of time, Charles needed to close the gap with Dreadfang before the nova got any ideas about using his ranged area attacks again. With all the trees gone and nowhere to hide, he knew it’d be a quick death. While closing, he traded his dagger for a longsword, not wanting to get too close. He just needed to buy some time.
At the last moment, before they clashed, he chose not to take the risk, activating his own defensive—Dance with Death. [Dance with Death] was a Resonance ability from his Dark framework. It allowed him to absorb an infinite amount of non-dark damage for one minute. Now he could focus on bringing Dreadfang into execute range. Gritting his teeth, he braced himself for the pain to come.
Dreadfang swung his mantis blade, but Charles, standing too close, couldn’t avoid the blow. He took the hit, a black shimmer appearing between him and the scythe, absorbing the impact—saving it for later. Though the ability shielded his body, it did nothing to dull the pain, forcing him to feel every bit of it. Gritting his teeth, Charles pushed through the agony and lunged forward with his longsword.
Locked in their savage dance, they exchanged strikes, both growing more desperate. Dreadfang’s fury mounted as the black shimmer absorbed his attacks, leaving the rugged elf unharmed despite the assault. Meanwhile, Charles slashed, stabbed, and bled him. Dreadfang’s next swipe was slower than the last—blood loss was catching up. Charles lunged, opening a fresh wound. Though his strikes came slower, they grew more brutal with each blow. The rugged elf continued trading pain for a life.
Charles couldn’t tell if the okamijin was within execute range, so he kept absorbing damage he’d have to face eventually. Careful not to drop Dreadfang’s health too low, he needed the nova’s mistake to go unnoticed a bit longer.
Switching tactics, Dreadfang’s hand returned to normal—the scythe attacks too slow for him. Pummeling Charles with an unarmed onslaught of claws, he raked them across the rugged elf’s chest. Charles, unable to keep his silence, cried out in pain as Dreadfang sank his teeth into the space between his neck and left shoulder—the black shimmer delaying only the damage. In exchange, Charles plunged his shortsword deep into the okamijin’s abdomen, up to the hilt.
[Melee orb]: [Executioner’s Block] ready for use.
Charles couldn’t use Executioner’s Block while Dance with Death was up, or there wouldn’t be any damage to reflect. He’d need to end it early, and if he misjudged the timing or Dreadfang’s health, he wouldn’t survive long enough to use his brand.
Readying his shortsword, he dismissed Dance with Death. A black slice immediately slashed across the top of his hand, opening a wound. Dreadfang hadn’t missed it, practically salivating at the sight of the rugged elf’s emerald blood.
“Finally,” Dreadfang said, realizing the elf was vulnerable once more.
“Make it count,” Charles said.
Dreadfang smirked as his fist crackled with arc energy, his coat no longer wet enough to conduct. Leaning into the punch, he aimed for the rugged elf’s head. Lifting his shortsword to intercept, Charles activated Executioner’s Block again. The block succeeded, but more importantly, the small piece of parchment hanging from Dreadfang’s belt ripped in half.
The okamijin’s eyes went wide. “How?!” He stared down at the remaining scrap attached to his belt. The parchment had prevented his death, working once before breaking. A simple ritual would conjure him a new one. His head snapped up, scanning the battlefield.
Charles knew exactly what he was looking for. Dreadfang had two synergistic abilities: the first was a powerful healing skill that only required him to be in darkness; the second was a passive ability that allowed shadows to count as darkness. Charles had tricked Dreadfang into removing the trees and their shade at the start of the fight. ‘Stage five: execution.’
“How do you want it?” Charles called out, gripping a blade in each hand. He gave Dreadfang a choice: go out fighting or running.
Dreadfang’s lips curled into a snarl and his eyes darted toward the new tree line.
Charles had his answer. “Have it your way.”
As Dreadfang sprinted toward the trees, Charles stowed his blades. Unsheathing his bow, he fired a test shot. Dreadfang yipped, stumbling as the arrow buried itself in his shoulder. With his defenses stripped, it was time for Charles to end it. He notched another arrow, taking aim. This time, he waited the full second and tagged his fleeing opponent with Trigonometry. Releasing the arrow, Charles used Final Goodbye.
[Final Goodbye] was a Destiny ability from his Range framework. It was an execute attack that did extreme damage. The attack drained his health to increase its power, enough to kill either the target or him—it always claimed a life. Sailing true, the arrow struck Dreadfang in the back, and his body crumpled to the ground, dead.
Charles pulled out his sewing needle again and pricked his finger, casting Stitch. The wound on his hand sealed shut. Seconds later, another dark slice tore across his other hand, opening a fresh wound. This would continue until the Dance with Death debuff wore off. The timer showed 23 hours, 15 minutes, and 6 seconds remaining.
Dance with Death’s near invulnerability was especially powerful, but powerful abilities always had drawbacks, especially at common rank. His drawback was to suffer damage over time until the debuff ended, dealing constant low dark damage to him. The more damage absorbed, the longer it would last. Just over eight hours had been his previous record.
The damage Dreadfang inflicted in less than a minute was impressive. The sharp, searing pain would remind him of that fact for the rest of the day.
Charles considered looting Dreadfang’s body but decided against it; he still wanted to claim Vera as his reward and didn’t want any guild bureaucracy to interfere. He’d let Ebonscale collect their fallen members, and gear, intact. ‘Now for Rono.’
A terrible shriek rang out, abruptly cut short—Vera had gotten her revenge. Charles headed toward the source of the scream. He found the theropods quickly; all he had to do was follow the squishing, slurping, and bone-snapping sounds. “So much for intact.” Charles frowned, watching them gorge themselves on Rono’s remains.
Vera heard him step into the clearing and lifted her green, gore-covered snout to greet him. The other theropod seized the distraction to snatch another piece for herself—a sickening pop sounded as she tore off a leg.
“Good girl,” Charles said, keeping a careful distance as they ate. “Stay hidden until I return.” They didn’t make translation rings for raptors, but she didn’t need one—they understood each other well enough. Charles would need to return quickly before her unattended pack started hunting townspeople for food—or worse, sport.
He mentally triggered his Scorching Brand, teleporting instantly back to Merchant’s Circle. The brand under his feet stopped glowing and faded into obscurity. Charles’s sudden appearance caught both Dylan and his new friend off guard. Glad to see Dylan looking much more alive, he turned to the elf and asked, “You from the guild?”
“Yes, I’m—”
Dylan cut him off, exclaiming, “Sacred excrement, Charles. Are you okay? What happened to you?” He put a finger through one of the many holes in Charles’s tattered tunic.
“I’m fine,” he said, wincing as another surge of pain streaked across his cheek. Taking out his sewing needle, he cast Stitch and closed the wound. He brushed his sleeve across his face, wiping away the bit of blood left behind.
Dylan looked at Charles, then at the elf, and asked, “Is that supposed to happen?”
Charles ignored the question. “Don’t let him out of your sight. I’ll come find you when I’m done.”
The elf nodded silently in acknowledgement. Charles turned, starting down the street toward the League of Adventurers’ Hall.
“Where are you going?” Dylan asked after him.
Charles sighed. “Paperwork…”