He dipped low, his blade held out to the side. It resonated an eagerness for the coming fight. He could sense the sword’s anticipation, and it fueled his own lust for combat. Normally this feeling might make him recoil, but here on the surface where one of the many hells played out all around them? He indulged in it, savored it even. It was kill or be killed, and he had a job to get them victory. That meant carving his way through the enemy. Including the big green bastard in front of them before he could face that necromantic dragon from the station. He had that asshole's number. And it was time to pay up.
Fight! The sword pulsed to him and he nodded. “Yeah, let’s fight.”
He broke into a dead sprint before the others could react confused to him. He went wide and to the right, just as he’d said he would. Earth and soul missiles lancing out at them from the opposition. He flicked his wrist, triggering the activation of the armor’s spell shield. Soul and water magic billowed out, forming a massive circular defensive barrier with rolling soul and water runes rotating within it like planets orbiting a sun. The shield blocked a rock spike that shattered against the rippling protective field.
Shield up, he charged forward, dropping to a knee, and using air magic to shove himself around the hatchling firing at him to draw fire. As he slid by, he took a swing with his blade. It bit into the scales on the young dragon’s knee. Follow up shots from the sergeant and Amara’s rifles staggered the hatchling back as Akamori thrusted up to his feet, advancing with a horizontal air assisted chop that claimed the dragon’s head.
Riding his circular movement, he crouched low and boosted next to his newest target. A brown stripped earth hatchling that swing a massive rock axe that bit into the loose soil and stuck with a gurgling noise as it tried to pry the blade free. Akamori’s spin brought his blade around across the dragon's arms, cutting deeply into its biceps. The hatchling shrieked in pain as it reared its head back, chest distending. He knew that move. Breath weapon incoming. He boosted up into the air, riding an air gust. Acidic bile sprayed out of its mouth as it tracked him up and away from the others. That’s right, you scaley bastard. Just follow the ginger mage.
He twisted around in midair to dodge the rock missile it fired from a cannon at the hip. The shot went wide, dissolving in the acid breath attack. Akamori fell, canceling his weight out with void magic, hovering in midair, confusing the hatchling’s aim. In that moment, several light bolts caught it in the face and chest before a powerful blast hurled it into the Orc.
The Sergeant smirked with the spell amplification active at the muzzle of his weapon. Then gave Akamori a nod to his sword. He lowered himself to the ground by lessening the countering effect, his void magic had against gravity. He let his gaze fall to the hilt of his blade, which shared the spell amplification enchantment that the Sergeant’s weapon had. Akamori smirked, “You can share it?”
The big man grinned, nodding excitedly. “Yea, still getting my head around how it works, but so far I can link another mage into the effects.”
Akamori regarded the sword, and the gold and white amplification enchantment circling the cross guard. “Well, alright.” He flicked the blade and channeled air and void magic down the blade. The two energies crackled and snapped as they raced along the shaft of the blade, fueled by the extra aether of the enchantment. White and violet lightening crackled wildly along the blade, fueled additionally by the enchantment spell. Akamori grinned at the Orc who took a hesitant back step from him. It cost him two AP, but it was worth the expense.
“Ok, now that’s cool.”
He rushed forward as Amara, and the Sergeant laid down suppressive fire on the Orc. The big green brute used a massive metal shield that stopped the bolts with no effort at all. Each light round smashing into the rusty brown metal surface shattered into aether shards. That wouldn’t do anything against his blade, though. He raced right up to the shield and swung the sword in an upward slash. He watched a groove in the soil carve out ahead of him in the same arc he’d swung. The shield didn’t seem phased at all, and was less so impressed when the massive metal wall crashed into him, lifting him up and hurling back the direction he’d come. He watched with a held breath as the helmet visor cracked, and the heads up display winked out. He was going a little too hard on it, but he needed to look like he was in worse shape than he was. How much is too much for the armor? The thought had crossed his mind, but he’d failed to determine the answer. At least until now, that is.
The world tumbled and rolled, and his stomach caught in his throat as he felt like a tossed ball. He stabbed his sword down and eventually righted himself out as his momentum halted.
“You ok?” Amara asked.
He gave her a nod. The damaged helmet telescoping back to allow his hair to spill out around his shoulders and down his back. The Sergeant insisted he cut it, but he was an air nomad first, and they held no such traditions or needs. Besides, he didn’t worry about the armor crimping or pinching it. It somehow kept it all gathered up and out of his way for him. So he didn’t bother with the fuss. He liked his hair the way it was. Although the black roots ever since he stopped at the void well concerned him. Had it had tainted him?
He rose upright as the orc charged, massive metal wall of a shield in front of it. The brute let out a low guttural war cry as the ground thundered with each step. At the last moment he tumbled out of the way, offering a wide sweeping slash of his blade aimed for its hamstrings in response. The orc carried on before sliding to a halt and turned around, huffing as it built for another charge.
He quick checked the blade, no blood. Damn. He failed to land the hit on his response. He needed to try something different. His father's voice resonated in his mind.
“Focus Akamori. Reflect on what I’ve taught you. How can you solve a problem?”
“Every obstacle has a path to address it. If you can’t go through it, go above. If the high ground is denied to you, go around. If you cannot go around, go below it. If you go can’t below it, come at it from behind.”
He slapped his forehead. Thanks, father. Even dead, you’re still taking me to training.
He reversed the grip on his blade as he glared at the Orc. He focused, reaching deep into his core of magic. The cool dark pool of dark energy printed to his soul sat there, pulsing in anticipation of a need. As the orc charged in again, he visualized what he wanted to do and where he wanted to end up. Time crawled to a standstill for him as the surrounding air warped and rippled. Cracks of dark energy veined outward and wrapped around him. His stomach lurched and reality exploded back into focus around him as he landed on the brute's back. He fought the urge to vomit as he rammed his blade down, tip first into the orc’s back. It’s corded muscles fighting as the blade fought for purchase and sent a blast of air magic down the shaft of the blade. The orc stiffened up and then fell over to its side as the lightening crackled down its body, cooking it internally. Smoke rolled lazily from every orifice of its face.
The sergeant approached it, kicking the brute's dead face hard. There was a loud crack, and Akamori was pretty sure that was the nasal bone caving in. Unnecessary but satisfying. He stood up, feeling his stomach lurch, and let it go into the grass. He finished coughing and dry heaving and glanced up to find an amused expression on the human shaped dragon.
“First time? Teleportation’ll do that to ya if yer not careful.”
Akamori wiped his mouth, trying not to feel like he’d lost some of his dignity in the grass just a moment ago. He gave the necromancer an innocent shrug.
“Yeah, well, what can I say? I’m pretty new to all this. Just a few weeks ago I was just farmer on Honshu.”
The necromancer canted his head up, looking down his nose at Akamori. “You’d like me to think that, wouldn’t ya? Let my guard down so ya could just stab me like that orc, eh? Well. I’m here to tell ya this is as far as ya go. Here and no further. The boss wants ya all to see how well and truly fucked you are. So I’m gonna grind you into dust and make you watch when the Ritual finishes. But first? A little fun. I’ve been watching you fight, and I know you’ve got quite a bit left in you yet. So how bout it? Up fer a duel? Just the two of us?”
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“Sir. He’s playin games. Don’t let him get to ya,” the sergeant said.
“He’s right, Akamori. Stay focused.”
“I am.” Akamori said and took a step forward and ignoring the squad’s advice to the contrary. “Amara, you’re on the talisman. Figure out how to break it. I’ll deal with our friend from the station.”
The necromancer grinned, “So, ya do remember me. Good. Because I want ya to remember me as I strip your soul from that body of yours and bind it. I’ll have ya marchin’ in lock step to my will for eternity. You’ll make a fun lil toy to play with.”
Akamori gave his blade a flourish and assumed an offensive stance. “Well then. Come and try.”
The necromancer’s sneer fell into a scowl. He cracked his knuckles and drew a rapier hanging at his side. That meant Scaley would favor lunging strikes and slashes. Good, he could deal with that. His blade was up to the task. Especially since it seemed to grow longer with each wellspring he visited. Akamori slid his back foot, dropping into a low, well-balanced stance like his training so often demanded. He debated on allowing the Necromancer to strike first, but figured given the dragon’s relative strength, even in a polymorph'd form, it’d be wise to go on the offensive, since his own style favored overwhelming attack.
He advanced, using air magic to blast his armor’s thrusters at full. His feet left the ground as he flew forward at the Necromancer. Their blades clashed, metal sang, and spark flew with each strike. Akamori used air magic to enhance his speed and agility to keep pace with the dragon. The necromancer gave him a hungry grin as aether flashed in his eyes. Akamori dropped low with a leg sweep and a follow up slash of his blade. The necromancer responded by jumping up and floated back some distance to put some ground between them.
“Not bad. As preamble goes, that was almost amusing. You have some potential. I might even puppet you on a few decades. Train your body proper and then use you to break the Brotherhood after we finish destroying the Federation.”
Akamori didn’t bother with a response. He focused in like a laser on the necromancer. This fight had his complete attention. He tried to master his breathing, but between the exertion and his excitement, he struggled. Adrenaline blasting through his veins made his body feel like pure energy. It also helped numb the pain. His armor was top end thanks to Kusinaki, but the damage he’d sustained during this campaign was showing on the armor. His helmet was useless. Many gouges and deep slashes marred the sleek skin of the armor. He could sense the armor’s pain, it resonated in the back of his mind like a dull buzzing sensation.
“What? No witty retorts? Or barbed jabs?” The necromancer looked genuinely upset.
Akamori couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes as he marched in to engage again. He led with a vicious diagonal slash the necromancer parried easily. Riding the change in momentum, Akamori spun and brought his blade around low for the necro’s shins. As expected, the Necro blocked his blade before it could bite into flesh and bone. Now! He angled the blade up and brought it sliding along the necro’s rapier towards his upper body.
The Necro leaned back, the tip of Akamori’s blade cutting the leather of his jacket with a whistle through the fabric. The necro back stepped, spun, and lunged forward with his rapier.
Akamori frantically parried the thrust away, but the necro simply tugged his sword back and lunged again and again. Their blades sang with each crash against each other, the impacts signaled with flashing sparks. The necro had gotten inside his guard. He needed to gain some ground somehow.
Akamori timed the thrusts and the speed the necromancer delivered his blows with. He knew on an instinctive level he could summon an air blast in between them and planned it out. On his mental mark, he clapped both hands together and channeled his air magic. A powerful gust of air blasting out from him omni-directionally. He watched as the Necro rode the wave of air in a twirling jump, landing gracefully a distance away with a flourish of his blade.
“Good. Good. Now let’s try something harder now, shall we?”
“Yeah. Let’s,” Akamori growled.
He reached into his reserves of air and void magic, allowing the two to mix. White and black lightening crackled down the length of his blade, and it hummed eagerly with the micro-vibrations of the air currents blowing up and down the blade’s length. The Necro smirked, his sharp draconic teeth lining his mouth on display.
“Tell me your name, boy, before I bind your soul to my will.”
As the Necro spoke, soul magic flared around him and rippled. Massive ghostly white and green ethereal skeletal arms reached out and sank into his chest, gripping something there tight. Akamori twitched as something in his soul twisted uncomfortably. Against his control, he felt something rise in his throat, his body about to respond. What? I-I can’t stop myself?
Just as he took a breath to speak though, something cold and powerful shifted within. A sensation like heavy chains rattling aside as something restrained found momentary freedom. His irises narrowed, and baleful draconic energy flashed out of them as he spoke in a deep booming voice.
“I am Bahamut the Destroyer. The Dread Wyrm risen, and you will never claim my soul little child.”
The skeletal arms pulsing with soul energy struggled, then slowly dissolved to the mid forearm. A cool chill rippled through his body on the invasive hands exit. Draconic arms covered in black scales dripping with void magic erupted from his chest and clutched the skeletal arms. It was clear they were completely in control. On close examination you could see the soul aether being slowly corroded and dissolved by the black hands.
The smarmy cocksure expression on the Necro’s face evaporated. Replaced by fear and uncertainty. The Necro took several hesitant steps back.
“Y-you couldn’t be. The Dreadwyrm hasn’t been seen since creation. Even Sauridius lacks an accurate account of him.”
A deep rumbling laughter purred from Akamori, and he allowed himself a pleased smile. Yet the action felt strange. It was of him, but not by him. Something else within had control for now and that terrified him. His crystal amulet glowed with radiant void energy. Violet black aether billowed around him, taking the shape of a cloak, black wings, and a tail, giving him the appearance of a cloaked hatchling made entirely of void. “And yet, you sense it, don’t you? The truth in these words. Your fledgling little magic is nothing more than a nuisance.”
A pulse of aether rippled from Akamori’s body. The surrounding grass withered and caught fire as the ground dried, crumbling away in the aura's force radiating off of him. He lurched suddenly, clutching his stomach and reaching for his back. As easily as the shift happened, something else slid back into place, and the ominous presence that dwelled deep within him slid away from consciousness. Pulled away by some unseen hand beyond his own control. He blinked momentarily, confusion setting in as he glanced around. So far whatever had happened it took place between just him and the Necro. Akamori could see Amara and the sergeant inspecting the Talisman over the Necro’s shoulder. Good. They hadn’t seen whatever that was. And they were still on task. A small measure of relief settled in at not having to explain what just happened to them. He wasn’t sure he could. He liked even less the implications it made if he took it at face value.
The Necro’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What was that? Some kind of conjuration spell? How do you know of the Dreadwyrm’s soul?”
The Necro stormed after him, blade swishing up to point at Akamori.
“Tell me!” he shouted.
Akamori had to pack up all the confusion and fear about what just happened and set it aside. He’d have to mortgage the future on the present and pray he had time later to address whatever just manifested within him. The word destroyer being uttered from his lips sent a rippling chill down his spine.
He brought his blade up to swat the Necro’s sword aside, who howled in rage at him before blasting him with a level 3 soul blast that sent him hurtling wordlessly away. He tumbled, rolled, and careened off the ground before sprawling out in a heap on his face. Groaning as the coldness left his body finally. He felt his soul almost leave his body, only to have it tugged back by something rooted to his body. More questions for later.
He pushed himself up, feeling terribly outclassed here. He regarded the necromancer tiredly, his sword tip bobbing with his exhausted breathing. He needed a miracle. Only some kind of divine act would get him out of this mess. A chilling series of moans and the soft rumbling of marching behind him pulled his attention from the angered Necromancer and he felt his stomach fall away.
“No… not now….”
The Necromancer’s hands, wreathed in soul magic, reached up to beckon his minions to him. Akamori stood between the Necromancer, and an approaching undead horde that comprised all the enemies they’d just killed, and the undead remains of the marines and civilians in uniform that Captain Morwen had left as a rear guard. Cut off and stuck between a rock and a hard place. He resigned himself to the notion of defeat. Taking pride because he’d held out this long.
NO. Something cold rumbled within him. It was familiar and yet distant, and it refused to accept defeat. Not here, not now, not like this. He glanced down at the ground tired, his chest plate heaving up and down. His armor was a mess, practically crumbling off of himself. And he had nothing left.
A soft golden glow caught his gaze. He blinked, focusing on it, and realized he still had the Tears of Aeryn potion, strapped to his bandoleer. He narrowed his eyes, annoyed at himself. Then again, maybe it was best he hadn’t used it yet. He looked over his shoulder at the approaching horde, then back to the Necromancer who’s playful demeanor gone. Now he just glared at Akamori hatefully.
Plucking the small bullet sized vial from his leather bandoleer, he inserted it carefully into the armor’s potion loader, priming the plunger. Well, he thought to himself reluctantly. Here goes nothing.