Azarus watched the two scenes playing out in the mirror as he nursed the odd feeling in his chest, trying to understand it. The feeling only grew as he watched Moka fumble with the gems, metal, and slime left behind by the shield’s introduction to [Deconstruction].
Near the burning foundry, a group of orcs, led by a grizzled veteran, were rallying a squad to follow and find their lieutenant. Twelve serious orcs, each wearing scale mail and carrying a loaded crossbow, gathered together and set out. Azarus monitored the squad as they advanced through the street. Several scouts moved from the group, running through streets and alleys in the direction their lieutenant was last seen.
Moka, crouched next to the lieutenant’s cooling corpse, rummaged through his belongings. She eyed his armor with greed, reaching out to run her fingers across it. Gathering her loot, she stood up with one last longing look, leaving the armor unmolested. [Deconstruction] was still recovering. Moka’s attention turned to the piles of material from its previous use. She grabbed her [Bolt-thrower] with a thoughtful look in her eye, then glanced down at the long coat she was wearing.
Azarus turned his attention to the aerial battle. His thoughts lingering on his champion. She was focusing on the wrong things. There was nothing more to accomplish. She needed to abandon everything weighing her down and flee to fight again. Her tools were of little importance, and she could fix her weapons on the way to Davok. Why was she disregarding her life? Surely, between her gifts and Skills, she knew she needed to escape. Was she blinded by her thirst for violence, greed, a misconception about her success, or something else entirely?
Azarus leaned back and waited for the answers to come. Tapping his foot, he idly twirled a paintbrush. With an effort of will, he pushed back the desire to use [Through Mortal Eyes] to glean Moka’s thoughts. Her actions and the consequences they caused would reveal her inner workings with time. For now, he would bear witness to Tevzaga’s feats. Seeing Skills in use would be invaluable when deciding Moka’s progression.
Tevzaga’s eyes widened as Kenasha disappeared in a crackle of lightning. Her heels dug into Rascal’s sides. A line of electricity ran from where Kenasha vanished to an off-center spot twenty feet away, taking a diagonal approach. The electricity gathered on itself, forming Kenasha’s winged and armored outline in a fraction of a second. Tevzaga’s sights snapped to her, several heartbeats behind.
Azarus found himself grateful Kuscal had not used [Lightning Step]. On a divine scale, it would be a pain to deal with. For a mortal, vanishing from sight was useless when paired with a bright trail that pointed straight at you. Moreso if fighting a [Quick-sight Sharpshooter], as he was betting Kenasha would find out.
Tevzaga twisted at the waist to follow the line of energy, her [Mage Killer] kicking in her hands. Kenasha took another step, turning into electricity as the iron slug passed through where her head had been.
Azarus leaned close as Tevzaga whispered under her breath. The gust of wind snatched the words from her lips. The wind in Tevzaga’s hair switched direction with sudden intensity, blowing the opposite direction of Rascal’s fluttering feathers.
“Heed my call.”
Tevzaga’s palm glowed as she created another bullet. The light reflected off the dark metal of her long rifle, freed from its cloth prison. In front of the muzzle, the air whipped into a frenzy.
[Tevzaga’s Mage Killer]: An enchanted rifle built by the Empire to battle enemy [Armor Bearers]. The Empire highly values and jealously hoards these weapons. The enchantments levitate special ammunition and accelerate it at high speeds. This rifle was scheduled to be destroyed due to a defective loading mechanism.
Azarus looked at the rifle’s description and thought of how Tevzaga obtained it. She had a long journey to this point, and if she survived, she would have a long journey after. The same as Granon and his village. He missed what came before, and would not see what came after.
Sparks of emerald gathered at Azarus’s fingertips. He laid a hand on the pommel of his sword, dice tumbling in his grasp. They felt right, like a soothing touch.
To go from one moment of connection to the next, meeting as strangers and parting to grow into strangers again. This is what it meant to be a traveler. The feeling of loss, missing out on lives lived, went hand in hand with the crossing of paths, leaving both altered. It was a lonely road, and one that Tevzaga shared. Except she was not entirely alone.
Kenosha’s wyvern fell like a stone, hurtling toward Rascal and his cargo. Rascal watched the [Mountain Wyvern] like he was preparing to catch an uppity bird, his long, feathered tail swishing through the air. The spots on his long ridge of feathers glowed blue, causing the feathers to stiffen. The feathers on Tevzaga's lap kept her from moving as she sat nestled into the ridge.
The diving wyvern’s eyes narrowed to slits. Its reptilian eyes focused on the beast challenging its dominion of the skies. Rascal waited for it to come closer, his muscular shoulders shifting in anticipation. An instant before impact, the wyvern spread its wings like great sails. Its descent slowed, but did not stop. It snapped at Rascal with its teeth, trying to grab him in its talons. The stinger on its tail glistened as it stuck. It buffeted Rascal with wind from its wings as it tried to use its large body to grab the smaller griffin.
Rascal leapt at the last possible second, jumping down at an angle. He slipped between the wyvern’s grasping talons. narrowly dodging a spur. His tail flicked out to tangle with the wyvern’s stinger as he leapt, locking it up. Rascal’s feathers cut into the wyvern’s tail, grinding on the larger scales.
Tevzaga ducked low, a strand of her hair catching in a patch of rough scales as Rascal dodged, barely flinching when it ripped out. She never turned her attention from Kenasha, trusting Rascal to deal with the wyvern. Around the muzzle of her rifle, the frenzied winds were waiting for something.
The wyvern screeched in pain, flipping in the air to rake at Rascal with its talons. Rascal released his hold, bounding away to turn and retake a defensive stance. The wyvern, well aware chasing the griffin meant dealing with the tail, beat its wings, ascended for another pass instead of giving chase.
Kenasha ran through the sky in flashes of lightning, her beating wings pushing her faster between each step. She charged Tevzaga, approaching at alternating angles to throw off her aim. Tevzaga, a beat behind but catching up, squeezed off a shot. Kenasha, caught off-guard, stutter-stepped, blinking forward half the distance of her previous [Lightning Step].
Azarus watched Tevzaga use [Create: Iron] to form a new slug, her lips moving as she applied pressure to her trigger. The light of her spell was near blinding in the twilight as it raced to complete the bullet before she fired. She was aiming at an empty spot.
“Blessed Wind, accept this passage and unleash your fury.”
The frenzied winds poured down the barrel. Tevzaga fired just as Kenasha’s shape reformed. There was a loud pop as the projectile tore through the air. Azarus watched the bullet speed toward Kenasha’s chest, examining it. It looked like an iron net in the shape of a bullet, holding an elemental sprite inside.
[Spirit Imbued Iron Slug]: In a crude imitation of the special munitions used with [Mage Killers], Tevzaga has created a bullet meant to carry a friendly wind spirit.
Azarus took a curious look at the wind spirit. He saw a blurred, humanoid distortion clinging to the inside of an iron cage, traveling faster than the greatest hurricane winds. It was a small portion of the spirit’s power, taking the form of a tiny winged man shaped from a breeze. A wild grin split his face.
The [Spirit Imbued Iron Slug] reached Kenasha mid-step, the lightning around her feet already melding with her body. [Knights Aegis] and [Lightning Armor] activated, the electricity around her feet reaching up to catch the iron cage. The slug slowed, its momentum bleeding like it was trying to breach quicksand. Lightning spread out like a net in a bubble around Kenasha, growing from the point of impact.
Inside the iron cage, the sprite laughed, a raucous battle cry. On impact, he transformed into a ball of wind. He exited the iron cage with ease, slipped through the net of lightning with a healthy amount of caution, and passed through [Knights Aegis] like a harmless breeze. The wind ball seemed to smile as it flew straight toward the crosshatch cuts on Kenasha’s face, radiating vicious glee.
Perhaps sensing the trap, or the malic, Kenasha jerked back just as the sprite released its power. She tucked her wings and dropped several feet in the air. The sprite exploded into a dozen blades of wind, cutting in all directions. Several blades hit her in the face, leaving deep gouges on her snout, twins to her earlier crosshatched wounds. Blood dripped off her face and onto the light scars left in her armor by the wind.
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Kenasha radiated fury as she drew back her fist. With one heavy downstroke, she launched herself several feet straight up. Her wings snapped as she spread them out to hang in the air. The lightning storm in her fist transformed into a spear of yellow-white energy.
“Same old Fairy Princess, with your tricks!”
Muscles swelling, Kenosha heaved the spear with unnatural might. The bolt of [Chain Lightning], backed by the power of [Wyvern’s Impact], ripped through the twilight sky toward Tevzaga. Rascal, his hairs standing on end, bolted. He was a fraction too slow, the lightning too fast. Tevzaga leaped off his back, using the strength of her legs to push him to safety. Her hands glowed bright white.
As soon as she saw Kenasha move to retaliate, Tevzaga called on [Create: Iron] to make a shield. She called to her friend in the wind. With glowing hands, she spread the iron as far and fast as she could. Using [Imbue: Spirit] she bound wind into the metal sheet, pleading for the biggest gust it could muster. The bolt was on her in an instant. She hung in the air at the apex of her jump, Rascal scrambling away at her feet.
“Blessed Wind, come!”
The wind spirit, eager to play, brought as much might as he could muster through their connection. A miniature hurricane formed almost instantly. The spirit was in the seat of his domain, this high in the sky. The wind pushed Tevzaga and the iron sheet, hurling them in opposite directions.
Iron met wind and lightning. [Wyvern’s Impact] forged them into an explosion that rocked the dirt walls of the compound. Tendrils of lightning reached through the sky to grasp onto Tevzaga’s armor. The wind and shockwave pushed her through the air. Electricity ran through her, clenching and unclenching her muscles in quick succession.
Hair fried and eye twitching, she twisted in the air as she rocketed away. She locked onto Kenasha, [Quick-sight Sharpshooter] showing its use. Back facing the ground, [Mage Killer] aimed between her legs, she fired off three quick shots, using [Create: Iron] to make smaller, thinner slugs. They hit Kenasha in rapid succession between [Lightning Steps].
The smaller bullets were faster, the first nearly piercing through Kenasha’s defenses. It was halfway through the invisible bubble of [Knight’s Aegis] before the first band of electricity caught it. The second bullet made it a hand span in front of Kenasha’s chest before her Skills deflected it. With a loud zap, it flew into the distance, pinging off Kenasha’s pauldron and leaving a deep scar in the metal. The third bullet punched through. It left a small hole in the segmented armor plating covering her stomach. She staggered back, her wings faltering as blood leaked from the hole.
Tevzaga’s departing figure lined up another shot. Her body sailed toward the wall mounted ballistas, dropping into their range as she fell. The wind seemed still around her. Her hair hung straight.
Kenosha roared. Lightning rose from her armor, arcs of electricity moving like living whips as they thrashed around her. She took a step as she beat her wings, vanishing from sight. Tevzaga adjusted her aim.
Rascal raced to catch his rider. A scattering of burnt spots marred his flanks, but he was mostly uninjured. Still circling, the [Mountain Wyvern] saw its opportunity and rushed to play interference. It dropped into a hunting dive, intent on keeping Rascal from reaching Tevzaga before she fell. Rascal’s keen perception caught the motion.
The wyvern’s shadow covered the griffin, blocking out the orange moonlight. Rascal, unburdened by a rider, leapt. He met the wyvern in a storm of teeth, talons, scales and feathers. The two creatures tore at each other, rolling around as they fell. The larger wyvern battered the smaller griffin with its wings. It kicked and cut at Rascal with its muscular legs and viscous spurs as it tried to pry him off.
Rascal unleashed his fury, heavy paws and sharp talons cracking and tearing through scales. The wyvern scrambled to defend itself from his speed and aggression. His sharp feathers cut long lines of blood in the wyvern’s flesh. He snapped at its throat with his hooked beak.
Azarus’s attention flicked to Moka, taking in her situation at a glance. She was using the deconstructed shield to turn her coat into a rough set of armor. Smearing a bit of slime on the back of a metal triangle the size of her palm, she pressed it to cloth and left it to dry. Azarus pinched his brow between his fingers, suppressing a sigh, as he looked at the materials.
[Spirit Infused Magic Alloy]: The powerful spirit of Metal forged into this alloy provides a magnetic effect.
[Mana Slime Heart]: Primarily used to power enchantments, this gooey ingredient is a mana bank and conductor.
Moka’s hands were a blur as she crafted herself armor. Patches of metal triangles, arranged tip-first into dinner-plate sized octagons, covered large swathes of cloth. They snapped together; the octagons combining as if they were originally one piece. Azarus watched Moka’s hammer scoot across the floor toward the metal plates.
The goblin rushed as she heard approaching boots, trying to cover as much of her coat with metal as she could. Large gaps remained between the eleven octagons. Six covered the back, five on the front. They ran straight up and down in rows of three. The twelfth plate would have fit where her pocket used to be. A pile of stone orbs sat in a pile next to her, freed from her remaining pocket.
Azarus’s eyes burned emerald as he reached up. Moka needed to run. Crossbow wielding orcs surrounded the building, a group of four cutting off the back exit as another eight approached the gaping hole in the wall. If he did not act, she would die. A screen hovered before him.
[Divine Store]
Purchase [Divine Intervention] for 50 DP?
Yes/No
The feeling of oddness haunting the god made itself known, blaring in Azarus’s mind like [Course-Correct] ringing through Moka’s soul. He froze, his emerald eyes tinting black like ink bleeding into water. White sparks, like migrating stars, drifted through irises like ethereal obsidian flames. His attention flicked to Tevzaga.
White light followed the [Hero], like the tail of a comet, as she fell in a bubble of still wind. A bolt, bound in rings of iron and nearly as tall as her, passed a foot from the back of head. The ballista operator misjudged her arc. She did not see it. Her eyes narrowed as she stared daggers at an empty patch of sky. She set her jaw in a grim line as she waited for an opportunity.
Kenasha sprinted across the sky in flashes of electricity, chasing Tevzaga down. Lightning sparked and grew in her fist as she prepared another [Wyvern’s Impact] backed bolt. Dark lines of fury marred her scaled face, filled with drying blood. Beneath her helm, her yellow eyes were bloodshot.
Rascal disengaged from the [Mountain Wyvern], pushing off it like a springboard. He raced through the twilight in a blur of white fur and feathers, pushing as hard as he could to reach Tevzaga before she hit the ground. The wyvern faltered at the sudden change, its body a mass of injuries. It doggedly flapped its wings in pursuit.
Azarus watched the mortals struggle, intent on their goals. His finger hovered over the screen. The window of time he had to act ticked by. He placed the odd feeling. The white sparks in his eyes multiplied, flooding the dark flames until they merged into static. He would recognize it from now until his end of days. It was the feeling of impending sacrifice.
Moka was wearing her coat, covered in metal octagons. She hid at the top of the stairs, her blackjack in hand. Her chisel wriggled in her belt, twisting to clink its pommel against the nearest octagon. Two orcs breached the back door, their partners covering them with crossbows. The rest came through the destroyed front wall in two teams of four. The leading orcs side stepped forward in a crouch, their teammates aiming over their shoulders.
Azarus had a choice. He could see the branching paths spread before him, each starting with him giving something up. To give Moka a chance out of this mess, he would sacrifice a piece of his domain. Another scrap of charcoal to add to the ocean of ash that awaited him.
[Divine Intervention]: Choose an immediately helpful, temporary [Boon] for your Champion.
The god thought his champion deserved a chance. He yearned to give her the ability to try. And yet, his mind turned to the next run, then one after that.
Kenasha was two [Lightning Steps] away from Tevzaga. Rascal chased at her heels. Tevzaga’s [Mage Killer] kicked in her arms a split second before Kenasha appeared in a burst of electricity; Foresight and [Quick Learner] showing their teeth. An intricate iron bullet, hundreds of small balls linked by an iron spider web, hit Kenasha’s [Aegis] before she could blink. The web broke, and the balls scattered. Arcs of electricity caught the balls, forming into a finely woven net of yellow-white energy that dimmed at visible speed. Dozens of balls slipped through the net, peppering Kenasha’s armor like hail. Rascal sped by her.
Black flames lifted off Azarus’s skin. He could not deny there were benefits to letting his champion die. Moka was not not powerful enough to play on this battlefield. It was his responsibility. The problem would carry onto the next Trial unless he fixed it at the root. The next run promised to be better, with his previous purchases and experiences bearing fruit. [Soldier] would fit Moka better than [Peasant].
By letting her die, Azarus would sacrifice a piece of himself. A fraction of who he was, as surely as he would lose a fraction of his domain.
Azarus swiped the screen away. He had bet on Tevzaga, so he would double down. Once she won, as he was sure she would, the odds would be more in her favor. With a heavy heart, Azarus wiped his hands clean of the ability to influence her story. He had faith his goblin had done enough to change her fate. He had to.
Moka did not escape the sharp eyes of eight soldiers. When the first wave of bolts flew at her, she retreated out of sight. The bolts curved at the top of the stairs, the iron tips following the [Magnetic Alloy’s] call. Using the metal and [Mana Slime] with [Good Enough] had enhanced its abilities. She would not have known. The bolts hit the plates glued to her back, knocking her to the ground.
Azarus watched Moka fight to the bitter end. It was over fast. The orcs, enraged at the sight of their fallen lieutenant, charged the stairs. Without an orc’s sturdy body, her armor worked against her.
Your Champion has died!
Quest: Clear the Second Floor- Failed!
A valiant effort brought short by behind-the-scenes machinations.
The image in the mirror faded into a reflection. Before it changed, it showed Azarus a glimpse of Tevzaga reaching out to grab Rascal’s tail, shooting at Kenasha with one hand. He looked into his reflection’s eyes and saw dark pools. A bitter tang coated his tongue. Nearby, Moka’s statue smoldered, recharging for the next run.