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2.1
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Hemlock took a deep breath.
The rush of fresh air filling his lungs as an impact in the distance rocked the woods, shaking the ground and rustling the leaves on the trees as blast of warm air rushed past his ear, blowing back his hair as he approached the site of the battle which now had restarted with gusto upon Ghoti’s arrival.
And their plan was underway.
Running past burning bushes, jumping over roots and ruined buildings, Hemlock pressed his domain against the Beast’s as hard as he could, finding success only because of his human and friend somehow disrupting its ability to control mana.
But to think he’d be jumping into a fight against a Mana Beast of all things, not once but twice in the same week. He’d have more excitement in the past forty either hours than he’d had in a decade, and the elf wasn’t sure if that was a good thing yet.
‘Follow the plan, Ghoti.’
Even now, he felt the world around him shudder, the Beast’s scalding heat clashing with the smothering warmth of… whatever it was that the human was doing to fight it. The pressure around the area decreased and Hemlock’s breathing grew less ragged as he pulled more and more mana.
They didn’t have much time.
The more they could destabilize the monster, the higher their odds of surviving.
No… not just surviving.
But of actually killing the creature.
And for that, they needed Ghoti to hold out as long as he could.
Hemlock hadn’t thought to ask how he managed to disturb the first Mana Beast. In fact, he hadn’t noticed the effect he had on the creatures when they ran into the boar for the first time, instead, it was only when the two of them fought the strange feathered serpent that he’d noticed how the monster lost control over mana when fighting.
It was… unheard of.
Usually, depleting a Mana Beast of its energy by forcing it to heal and deplete itself was how slaying the creatures worked.
You put together a big group.
You ambushed the monster. And then you hit it until it couldn’t heal from it.
But Ghoti didn’t need to do that. Just by hitting it, the creature completely lost control over the mana he and his clan needed to breath and fight it. The greatest advantage that the creatures had over them was nullified and even an out of practice hermit like Hemlock managed to put up a decent fight against such a dangerous foe.
What would a proper group do if given that kind of support?
‘This should be far away.’
Taking position behind one of the trees, he formed a mana arrow, notching it on the bow he’d… borrowed from one of the village guards on the way. The shaft of wood felt awkward in his hands, all the practice he didn’t no coming back to haunt him as he took aim at the Beast from across the tree line.
‘Pierce.’
The arrow flew through the air flawlessly… is what he’d like to say. But it hit the very large immovable target before bursting apart in a shower of blood and a squeal of pain. Which was promptly silenced when the human slammed the remains of the tree he’d dragged into the battlefield over its head like a mallet.
Hemlock dove back into the foliage.
It was a simple plan.
Keep the monster distracted, let Ghoti wrestle it down, enough for the guards to recover and overwhelm it. All hinging on the patience of a man who had up until now charged head first into every fight he had with no concern for his own safety.
‘I’m surprised its working this well.’
Gather.
Shape.
Pierce.
Another arrow, another wound.
Peeking over the side of a tree, Hemlock took off on a run. By now Ghoti had dragged the Boar’s attention away from the group of Guards, the dozen or so elves scrambling back and away from the creature’s influence as it struggled to wrestle down the human. SO much so, they barely reacted as he came running in, the Governor’s assistant looking at him in surprise.
“Hemlock? What is the meaning of this?”
The older elf bit back a sigh.
As suspicious as ever, this one.
“We don’t have any time. Please, have these.” Hemlock reached into a bag strapped to the side of his leg, pulling out a small leatherbound package from within. A handful of see through glass flasks with a familiar blue liquid sloshing around inside, glinting in the light of the beast's flame like liquid sapphire.
“That’s-”
He shoved the flask on her hands.
“We don’t have time. Drink this then hand it to someone else. We’re getting out of here while that thing is busy.” Pulling out a second flask of the same type, Hemlock took a short swig, feeling the enervating feeling of pure energy cascade down to his stomach, before running through his veins like lightning.
Hemlock shuddered.
Medicine was often… unpleasant. Especially if you took a whole dose.
But it got the job done.
‘Douse.’ Forming a sphere of liquid mana, the older elf swirled about before hitting a nearby tree, putting out the flames with a sharp hiss. The surge of power on Hemlock’s veins abating for a moment as he jumped, forming a disk of blue light under his foot.
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Bounced off it.
Then took aim, and fired.
The next arrow burst on the boar’s back, steam erupting from its mane as it was yanked forward by the tusks, legs kicking back as it tried to pry itself away from the stubborn armored man keeping its face pinned to the ground.
Fortunately, he wasn’t the only one taking advantage of the beast’s lapse in control, as another arrow, much larger and faster than his own, came flying out of sigh, piercing through the boar’s hide with disgusting ease, peeling out its muscle and crushing its bones before erupting in a shower of mana.
Drizzling over their bodies.
‘Not Hero material.’ He snorted.
The captain had way too low a self opinion.
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There were two methods for using Vita.
Channeling and Spending.
The former was something anyone could learn with enough time. The body of a human was filled with Vita, constantly produced from every fiber, emanating it in the form of ‘ripples’ which could be felt by those who have enough practice. Vita was life, and thus, anything that was alive had Vita.
And used Vita to live.
So, if you increase your awareness, you could learn not only how to make use of the energy, but also how to harness even more of it. The ripples of Vita expanded, and so did the heat they created, described by many as flames, those who were adept at fighting with it found that by applying the entirety of the Vita their body created into one action at a time, that action would contain that much more power.
It was, like some martial artists liked to say, putting your entire body into a blow.
And that was what he knew to use best.
Putting every inch.
Every muscle.
Every drop of energy into his grip. Vita rippling forth from his hands as they closed around the monster’s tusks, a hiss of a breath leaving Gothi’s helm as the creature pushed back, intent on batting him aside.
And held.
‘Now we wait.’
He could tell Hemlock was on the move. He couldn’t feel mana, but he could feel his friend’s Vita as it got closer, his instruction to keep the Beast busy echoing on his head as he took in another breath… and stoked the flame within. The power coursing through his body flaring to life as the boar’s head shook to the side, plumes of smoke bathing his both.
Ghoti breathed out…
And pushed.
The ground, burnt and then doused into mud, gave away beneath them. The boar slid backwards as its hooves dug into it but failed to push forward. Too slippery to find traction after being continously hit by the strange liquid spells of the elves.
“And this little piggy… fell on his ass!”
Vita flowed from his arms to his legs, heartbeat rippling forth as the familiar sensation of warmth spread forth from beneath the armor and the ashen mud exploded backwards with a step, the force of the knee as it dug into the boar’s chin snapping its head back with a squeal of pain and a burst of steam.
Flames reignited only to be put out as the fresh mud clung to the mane.
‘That’s taken care of.’
A soft whistle was all the warning he had before another arrow, much larger than the previous one, rained down from above, digging through the boar’s body and pinning it against the ground.
“Must be nice to have all these options.”
Another arrow rained down.
“Stop complaining and fight!” A voice shouted from the distance.
Mana was just unfair, really.
They got to do all kinds of flashy things with it while poor Ghoti had to step through the mud and wrestle the pig. Like he was some sort of farmhand starting at the job and getting all the bad chores shoved at him to build character.
No, dad, shoveling horseshit is not gonna teach me a lesson!
‘Childhood trauma later, fight now.’
The plan was working… surprisingly well.
He was getting a few good hits, the elves were giving cover fire and whatever it was that Hemlock wanted him to do somehow was working. The problem was the monster’s size, and its ability to seemingly heal no matter how many times he caved its face in or how many arrows it was shot with.
His sword wouldn’t do much better.
Not with plain Channeling.
Spending, however…
‘I was really hoping not to do that.’ He’d already used it against that weird Turkey from earlier because of the whole desperate last stand thing he and Hemlock were doing. But that was an emergency and he was hoping to make do without having to use energy he didn’t even have.
Unfortunately Mr. Piggy wasn’t giving him a choice.
It just kept healing.
Eventually Ghoti was going to tire out and have to leave, and when he did that, the Boar would start moving freely again, spreading that wildfire they were just barely putting out with so much effort.
“Hey, Eartips! I’m gonna do something stupid!” First rule of being a dumbass, warn your allies. That way they can pull you out of the fire if things get too bad. It was also the first thing his teacher taught him way back in the day… for reasons he wouldn’t disclose or think about because of repressed traumas.
‘Second rule of being a dumbass, reflect on the consequences of your choices.’
That way, when you actually do something stupid, you’re at least ready for the blowback.
‘Third rule. Do it, anyway.’
Spending Vita wasn’t using energy that you had at the moment.
It was spending Vita that was yet to be produced. Forcing it out of your body, carefully calculating how much you needed to get the resulted you wanted by tiring out your body prematurely.
And in his case…
Well…
He was terrible at it.
“Pin it down for me!” Drawing his sword, Ghoti rushed forward, power rippling forth from his heart as he took a deep breath, stoking the flame higher and higher, until it burst forth from his skin, steam and orange ember flickering in the wing as his body shrieked in agony, but held for the moment.
Ghoti took position, raising the sword over his head.
From the treetops, and the surrounding woods he saw dozens of arrows, spears and spheres of mana rain down on the Beast as the massive ones holding it in place dissolved in the wind. Fresh smoke rising from the boar’s mane as it clambered back to its feet and shook off the mud.
‘How many times can you swing a sword?’
It felt like such a basic, needless question.
The most simple move you could learn. Swing down and let gravity take its course. That kind of telegraphed bog standard practice. When Ghoti started training, the first thing his Teacher did was make him stay up all day and all night swinging the sword he’d stolen from her.
Made him swing it until he couldn’t hold it anymore.
Swing it until his knees gave out.
Until he fell asleep.
The next morning, he was told he’d swung it a grand total of 573 times.
‘10 years go by so fast.’ Ghoti felt his arms bulge, the plate straining to contain the muscle underneath as he raised the sword over his head, body burning as steam leaked through the gaps in his armor, Vita pulsing in his ears as he took a deep steadying breath.
And swung down.
There was a rush of wind.
Mud and fresh dirt rained down from above.
And Ghoti’s ears popped with the thunderclap.
'Trout's Fin.’
A simple swing of a sword, worth two thousand. There was nothing magical about it. No light show or great conflagration. In Ghoti’s humble opinion, it must have looked quite boring.