The best play

Akamori studied the battlefield in space. Debris from attacks to ships friendly and not drifted lazily in the light of the distant star of the Anazi Prime system. He needed an attack that would destroy all the enemy ships in a single strike. A decisive cut his father would call it.

A wise tactic , Thanaton mused.

“Hmph.” Akamori grunted. “We’ll see.”

Before he had time to think himself out of the idea, he threw the mech forward into max acceleration. He felt the accumulating g forces pressing him into the back of the pilot’s chair. Acid and fire bolts rushed out to meet his advance, striking the arms and legs of the mech, scoring heavy damage. Sparks and ruined mechanics flashed as the mecha dragon soared through the combat airspace.

A storm of missiles erupted from a nearby cruiser before Akamori evaded. He grit his teeth and brought the wings up to envelop him. The void wings rippled from multiple explosions.

The missiles ripped apart the mecha dragon’s wings, leaving Akamori vulnerable to attack. He had no option left but to continue forward and hope that his shield held out against the onslaught of fire that was now raining down upon him.

He felt his body tense as he braced for impact, and then a sudden jolt as one shot struck true. Sparks flew around him, blinding him temporarily as he tumbled forward through space. He fought back the pain and readjusted the mech’s thrusters in an attempt to slow his descent.

The enemy ships fired relentlessly at Akamori, their weapons converging on his position in a deadly barrage. It seemed like all hope was lost until a brilliant flash erupted from behind, catching everyone off guard, including Akamori himself. The light filled the cockpit and he could feel his skin prickle with static electricity as it passed over him.

When it dissipated, so did the rest of the damaged cock pit. Floating bits of mechanical flotsam. He struggled at first, gasping in the vacuum. Be at ease. You are beyond needing to breathe, but if you must, you can manifest air within your breast.

Akamori’s hand flexed around Thanaton’s grip, the hilt of the spell blade reassuring him. His one steady factor in a world of change. Also, something of a tutor in most things magical. He did as the blade advised and channeled some of his air magic and puffed a frozen cloud of air crystals.

So. I can live in the vacuum of space. Neat, he thought. He glanced down and frowned as the battle continued to unfold. Without the spell mech, it was going to be significantly more difficult to conduct a spell on the magnitude he’d been planning on.

Wrong. You are more than a spell mech could ever make you. The divine and beyond makes trinkets and baubles pale in comparison. Gather your magic and demand reality fit your will. If you are strong enough, you will succeed.

Ok. Fair enough, he thought. He gave Thanaton an experimental twirl. The black blade traced a dark lavender trail in the void. He had magic, and will in abundant quantities. Time to do something with them. He closed his eyes and focused on the black blade. Void crystal crept forth from the hilt like a black glacier engulfing the sword in a scythe made of void glass. It glinted softly in the faint sunlight of the star at the center of the Anazi system. Home of Hravesvalgyr he mentally amended.

Aether pooled along the blade’s edge, like liquid magic, condensing and congealing into a nebulous blob of magic that jiggled before the edge of the sword. After he’d poured a sufficient enough amount of his pool to the spell, Thanaton in turn contributed as well. Then he reached out with his will, with Than as his guide, a white glowing form of magic he’d never used before coalesced along with his large pool of void magic.

What is that? Akamori asked Than.

Divine will. There are two sources of it. That which you accrue naturally. And that which is gifted to you via worship.

The more worship a god has, the more powerful they are?

Yes. Your worship can outstrip the vast reserves of magic you have at your command. It is what separates the divine from an arch mage.

Sounds like elitist bullshit.

It is how the underlying fabric of reality is designed.

It sounds like a mess.

Then you’ll need to take that up with its creator.

Akamori grinned. Y’know? That ain’t a bad idea.

Akamori channeled more of the divine aether into the spell until his blade glowed a radiant and painful aura. His blade was a god in its own right. A god to destroy gods. The two observed the Sauridius ships below them.

Watch as they scramble like insects. Quick to incite conflict, but never strong enough to see their will done, Thanaton hissed.

I’ve seen enough, Akamori said coldly. Channeling his void magic, his body transformed into his reaper state, bypassing the gauge building by expending an amount of divine will. After this, he’d be tapped out, but the expense was worth the cost. His scythe spun at inhuman speeds. Hurling void laced wind slashes like an enraged void storm looking to destroy everything in its path.

The ships beneath him withered under the assault. Theferis quickly aborted its attack run, shifting position with a hasty teleport to avoid his wrath. The Sauridius were less fortunate. Ships cleaved into chunks, which were then cut into even finer pieces again and again, over and over, until the battle space was a still graveyard of metallic glitter and severed souls.

Akamori then held his hand out and gathered the souls of the dead to him. Pallid green energy congealed in his palm slowly as he summoned them to him. Once collected, he quickly sent them to the soul plane. He teleported himself from his position to the bridge in a blink of void magic. Frost gathered at the black cloak that covered his body. Red eyes peering from beneath a black hood.

The rest of the crew eyed him curiously. Well, all except for Sirsir. Who gave him a mixed look of pride and amusement. He was the first to speak, breaking the silence.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“You know, sir. It scares the hell out of me when you do shit like that. But then I remember you’re paid the big bucks, so slouches like me can sit back and watch the fireworks later.”

The tension could only hang on desperately for another second before both Akamori and Sirsir exchanged amused looks. Akamori’s void cloak dissipated into evaporating motes of void aether as he leaned against a railing. Exhaustion banging through him.

“When is the last time since you took a rest, lieutenant?” Morwen asked at his side.

Akamori shook his head. “Dunno. Time’s been a blur.”

“No kidding. You somehow jumped millions of years into the future and back in the span of a day.” Amara said. Her tone was jovial, but there was an underlying concern that was matched by Yasiin’s silent expression.

“I’m fine.” Akamori reiterated.

The scry screen pinged with an incoming missive. Morwen accepted, and a flaming scroll unfurled, revealing a scowling dragon and a large flight inbound.

“You dare to attack dragonkin after the wrym mother granted you clemency? Does your heresy know no bounds?” Keimut thundered. Murderous fury in his eyes.

Akamori didn’t shrink from the challenge. “If it’s a fight you want, come and get it.” Akamori said coldly. His voice was cold as steel left in the polar caps of Hidros.

“We will see how defiant you are when I’m cleaning my teeth with your femur!” Keimut bellowed and cut the transmission.

Only after the missive ended did Akamori sag against the console he’d been leaning on covertly for support. He took a moment, drawing in a deep breath before letting it out, and nodded. His body ached for rest. Ingesting more air and soul magic, plus the constant battles, were pushing him to the edge of limits. He physically feel his wall of exhaustion pressing in.

“Well, looks like we’ve got another fight on our hands.” He said. His voice had a hint of levity, but there was a dark coldness in his eyes.

“Agreed. I’d hoped we could have avoided this next confrontation, but it would seem its time to pay up for all the slights and insults we’ve levied against the dragon flight.”

Akamori sniffed. “They’re not the last dragon flight. They’re just scaley bullies.”

“Hellz yeah!” Sirsir said, clapping his massive paw of a fist into the opposite hand eagerly.

“Anyone got some mana potions on hand?”

Yasiin and Amara both fetched some vials off of their potion bandoleers, holding them out. Akamori made sure the Captain and Sirsir got some. Everyone gave him a quizzical look.

“What about you? You’ve gotta be exhausted?”

He nodded. “I am. But I won’t be needing any more than I have left, I think.”

Morwen’s eyes narrowed. “You’re up to something. What do you have planned?”

Akamori shrugged impishly. “Dunno. Just gonna wing it and see what kind of random bullshit I can come up with on the fly.”

Amara blinked. “That was refreshingly honest.”

“And true.” He grinned.

“Still not much of a plan to go on. We’re low on resources and they have numbers.”

Rozien scoffed. “Theferis can hold them off for centuries before it depletes its reserves alone. Bigger spells will obviously need your contribution. They won’t be getting in.”

“So we let the big ship be our crutch and our shield.” Akamori said.

“Do we care if Keimut dies?”

Morwen’s brows knit thoughtfully as her expression glazed over in a distant expression. Akamori noted the same kind of divine glow he associated with god magic. His just now created term for all things divine. It was less wordy and suited him just fine.

“Death isn’t a necessary ingredient for this particular recipe.” Morwen said. “But we should prepare ourselves for an offensive. We can’t sit here while they gather strength.”

A plan bloomed in Akamori’s mind, and before long, he was ready to go into action. He walked over to the bridge window and looked out at the incoming dragon flight.

The dragon flight launches its offensive, crashing into the defensive position of the legendary spell ship with a fury unlike anything seen before. The sky is filled with clashing forces, lightning arcs between dragons and their opponents, giving flashes of light that illuminate their silhouettes against the void. Wind whipped around them as they battle, roaring and screeching as spells are cast and countered by magical shields or other defensive measures. Fireballs and lightning bolts soar through the air from both sides, hitting shields but glancing off enough to cause damage when they land on non-defended areas of Theferis or their attackers.

Hull plating and scales alike peel away as the battle begins. Intermixed with the debris from the defeated Sauridius vessels, the battle looked like it was taking place within a Brotherhood of Man snow globe set against a black backdrop. In the hanger deck, Akamori stared at the blue field separating him from space and breathable atmosphere inside.

“Sir, are you sure this is the best play?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It has to be me. No mechs. No ships. Just pure sword play. If I can beat him in front of his support, it will cripple his entire power base and let someone else more reasonable assert themselves.”

“Sure, but I still don’t think having a 1v1 duel with the punk is the smartest play.”

He shrugged. “Maybe not, but it needs done. We have to do this by their own rules if we want to make it stick. Then we get someone more agreeable to step forward.”

“Matroness Azil.” Morwen added contemplatively via the comm.

Akamori nodded. “Yeah, she struck me as a better option for potential allies. Not that I’m really enthused by anything I’ve seen here. But of all the bad apples, she’s the least of the bunch.”

“Indeed.” the captain said. Akamori could hear the faint smile in Morwen’s voice.

“Well then, Lt. the floor is yours, so to speak.”

Akamori took a deep breath reflexively and strode through the blue veil into the icy black of space.

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