Despite Animus Remnant activating, Ray still bemoaned the sheer power behind the Floor Lord’s attack. He had to use up almost all the Recovery he had regained to fix himself up enough to not feel like he was dying.
The more debilitatingly painful wounds at his leg, shoulder, and chest had to be healed. He had to ignore the stinging and smarting going on everywhere else, but at least he could focus now. Even if he hadn’t actually been dying, they could potentially count as fatal if the Floor Lord recovered enough to try and kill him while he was debilitated with pain.
Though, that seemed unlikely with how much Olgolair was screaming.
Problem was, Ray had next to no Recovery for any other dangerous wounds. Maybe one more life-threatening injury, and that was it. He’d have to be careful, let it regenerate.
When he got back to his feet, he found the Floor Lord was dragging himself towards the centre of the room. Could here be something there that could cure him of the Toxic Mana? Also, was the Toxic Mana that bad? Had Ray actually been quite blessed not to have contracted it in that toxic dungeon? He recalled being poisoned, but it hadn’t seemed this debilitating.
Ray quickly crushed another few Mana crystals, then flew over to land between the Floor Lord and his ritual items. “That’s far enough.”
“Poison,” the Floor Lord ground out. He slowly got to his feet, his whole body trembling as blood dripped down his form. “Of course, the likes of you resort to such cheap means.”
“Cheap, expensive, does it matter? You’re dying anyway.”
The Floor Lord growled. Sickly as he was beginning to look, the power streaming off him refused to be cowed. He still had some fight left in him.
Antagonizing him directly was probably the wrong decision, but Ray had expected something like this to happen anyway. He knew that the Floor Lord would not remain cowed once he was poisoned, would be determined to end Ray no matter what.
In other words, all Ray needed to do was survive.
For just a second, he wondered if it would have been better if he could have teamed up with Kredevel. Two of them together would surely have a stronger chance of surviving and winning than either of them alone.
But the overwhelming part of Ray knew that this was his test. All this time, he had been fighting and raising his power for this. He needed to prove to himself that he could do this, that it all had been worth it, that he was the one in control of his destiny. The only one. To do that, he had to beat the Floor Lord by himself.
With a vicious roar, Olgolair charged at Ray.
It was the biggest test of defensive capabilities Ray had faced yet. The onslaught from the Floor Lord was basically relentless. For Ray, there was no reprieve, next to no room for counterattacking, no possible way of doing anything but protecting himself.
Compressive Blasts flew in from dozens of different directions, threatening to overwhelm his ability to respond. Spikes of spiralling growths shot out of the ground, refusing to give Ray space to land. He even had to dodge beams of Propulsion that the Floor Lord flung with reckless abandon. Chunks of the whole chamber were crashing down at the sheer power being outputted.
Of course, the Floor Lord himself was attacking too. Attempting to ram in with spears and clubs made of Growth Mana, smashing into Ray with Propulsive Blanket, flying and whipping in like he wasn’t suffering at all from grievous wounds.
It was all Ray could do to stave off the onslaught. He had dealt with each of his opponent’s moves before, but not altogether at once. That was what made it so dangerous.
At least he had dropped the old loot from his bag of Holding and immediately cast Hoard Defence with Primal Spiritcraft. Another boost he needed.
He cast Mottling Spiritguard with one hand and other spells with his free hand. Impervious Shell would have been useful, but he was prizing mobility more than direct defence, so it was better to keep moving. Thankfully, he had grown quite adept at rapid casting.
Soaring Wings was already active, and he had managed to squeeze out both another Greater Windbane Maw construct using Lifeblood Soulform and created two True Mana arms with Soulstrike.
His sparking Spiritguard orbs continued to shatter as they took hits meant for him. Ray smacked aside the more powerful beams and blasts he couldn’t dodge with his True Mana arms.
At times, the construct came to his rescue as well. It forced the Floor Lord to be wary of getting struck by the laser breath again.
Despite all that, it was nigh on impossible to keep up with the fury the Floor Lord displayed. Ray’s back ached, his right shoulder and arm felt like they were about to fall off, and even his head pounded. The relentless aggression was threatening to overwhelm his senses every second.
No wonder Kredevel had fallen to this.
And then the Floor Lord landed his blow. He got in close, and just before Ray could push him back with a True Mana arm or force some of his remaining Spiritguard orbs to do so, he managed to get in a poke with his spear of Growth Mana, tipped with Propulsion Point.
The blast sent Ray sprawling to the ground at least thirty feet away. Instinctively, he reused Primal Spiritcraft to call up his wings to get away from the fatal floor.
His pain-riddled mind could only wonder if he was still within Hoard Defence’s radius now. The shock disappeared soon, though, and left behind the cold realization that he was losing a ton of blood from his guts. And he didn’t have enough Recovery to fix it.
Ray cursed. Not now. Not after he had come this far, after he had almost beaten his opponent.
“So you fall in the end,” the Foor Lord said. He was approaching slowly. His voice was constricted, likely due to the pain from the poison, but his eyes were feverishly fixed on the blood tip tapping to the floor from Ray’s torso. “Nevertheless, I salute your efforts.”
Vulnerable. Weak. Beaten. That’s the state that the Floor Lord assumed Ray was in. Stupid of him, and Ray was going to make him pay for that assumption.
“I’m not dead yet,” Ray growled, then threw out a Spiritsorb.
Ray’s aim was off. The Floor Lord barely needed to move to dodge it. His grin remained intact as the monochrome orb of chaotic energy sailed past its supposed target.
But then Ray closed his hand into a tight fist. The orb shuddered to a stop behind the unaware injured Sylvan, then twisted as it transformed while Ray used Lifeblood Soulform on Spiritsorb. A second later, the orb had expanded into a simulacra of a Brighthorn constructed from pure True Mana and chaotic energy.
The Floor Lord twisted. Not fully. He wasn’t stupid enough to take his eyes off Ray, not after what he had gone through. But enough to see that it was indeed a fake Brighthorn charging at him.
“Even at the end,” he said. He tutted in disappointment. “Your lack of decency does you no favours.”
He shot out an arm and blasted the onrushing constructed Brighthorn with a Compressive Blast. Ray shouted, then activated another spell. Primal Spiritcraft.
Wings burst from the Brighthorn’s back, made of spiky feathers just like Ray’s. The construct dodged and charged at the surprised Floor Lord. He threw a fist out to punch it, but Ray wasn’t done. The construct’s head exploded, the original Brighthorn skull now replaced with the neck and maw of the Greater Windbane.
With a lunge, the oversized draconic head chomped into the Floor Lord. This time, Ray’s aim was perfect. Primordial Gauge was still revealing the spot that glowed bright red.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The spot under the arm where he was most vulnerable.
Ray screamed as the Floor Lord screamed once more. But unlike the falling Sylvan, Ray’s scream was one of pained triumph. Bastard was going down. Bastard was going to stay down this time.
Still, Ray himself fell too. Besides the agony in his midsection, exhaustion was making itself felt. He couldn’t recall if he had received another Mana fruit, which would help greatly with the fatigue.
But maybe he wouldn’t need it. The Floor Lord had to be done now. Ray just needed to reach ahead and finally kill the bastard.
[Warning!]
Primordial Gauge indicates the System Artifacts in your possession has been quested by Divine Seeker [Tier 3]. Primordial Gauge has blocked the effects of Divine Seeker [Tier 3].
Ray blinked. Divine Seeker. Where had he seen that ability before? A second later, as Primordial Gauge fired again, Ray realized that this fight was far from done.
Derrick Orden was walking in from the far end of the chamber.
***
With Ray got to his feet, keeping a wary eye on the Floor Lord. Just because the Sylvan looked incapacitated didn’t mean that Ray was now free to stand too close to a surface from which a Projected Growth could erupt out of.
His main attention was fixed on Derrick Orden, though. Of all the times for the Wild Tides leader to show up, it had to be now.
He appeared the same as he had before. The long black coat covered his entire body and his beard and hair looked freshly trimmed and oiled. He wore a placid, equanimous expression, very much like a preacher heading for his pew.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Ray said. “Come just a little closer so I can finally end your ass.”
Derrick Order ignored him. His eyes were fixed on the Floor Lord instead. Fixed like that of a predator.
“You remember our deal,” he said, his voice raised high so that it carried across the chamber. “Right, Floor Lord?”
Olgolair attempted to speak, but all that came out was wheezing and gasping. Combined with the worsening effects of the poison, which was manifesting as dark blots all across his skin and his wounds turning a sickening green hue, Ray’s last attack had also dealt a vital blow to something quite significant. Maybe he had a lung that had been punctured.
Or maybe Ray had gotten to his heart clusters.
“Your state is acquiescence enough,” Derrick said.
He came to a stop far enough away that Ray frowned. There was something different about the fellow now. A greater sense of solidity, like he existed more realistically than before in the world somehow. And then it hit Ray. The sudden realization of what this most likely meant.
Derrick Orden, the absolute fucker, had evolved his class too.
Primordial Gauge even confirmed it. Ray took a quick peek with his new skill, while still leaving a pinch of his attention on the Floor Lord.
[Primordial Gauge]
Derrick Orden [Denizen]
Race: Human
Path: Path of the Emissary [Epic]
Class: Fleshboon Cultist [Rare] [Tier 3] at Level 20
Skills:
Flesh Projection [Tier 5]: Project any force generated by your body to any other body up to a set distance. At Tier 5, this spell amplifies a force by 5x its original magnitude, never misses, and can cast the projection up to 25 meters away.
Inner Workings [Tier 2]: Learn the ins and outs of any abilities by your foes, passively or actively.
Channel Prayer [Tier 6]: If you possess any items above Denizen-grade, you can now channel their strength. At Tier 6, this spell grants you 3 abilities lasting 3 minutes total.
Fervour Fount [Tier 3]: Set a fount of fervour in your area to detect the presence of any ability, item, or being above Denizen-grade in your vicinity. At Tier 3, this spell’s range extends to 30 meters.
Cult Following [Tier 6]: Raise your might proportional to the number of followers under your banner. At Tier 6, this spell raises all your stats by 1 point per 40 people in your following, and the Tier of all your abilities by 1 per 400 people.
Consume [Tier 4]: Channel the power of your followers for a short duration. Can be configured to grant a passive boost to all stats and skills or manifested as a blast of Mana. At Tier 4, this spell temporarily disables the Mana conduits of 8 nearby followers and lasts 2 minutes.
Fervour’s Buffer [Tier 5]: A small chunk of all energy directed at you is stored nearby instead of striking their target. Once activated, this spell expels all stored energy as either a barrier or a beam. At Tier 5, this spell absorbs 10% of all energy directed at you at all times.
Flesh Leech [Tier 5]: Summon leeches of flesh that drains the power of your foes. At Tier 5, this spell sends out 5 leeches that drains 5% of the target’s Mana, Recovery, and all stats, with each leech acting in 1 minute.
Amalgam [Tier 4]: Summon an amalgamation of flesh and bodily matter that performs the bidding of the summoner.
Alright, yep, that confirmed it. Derrick Orden had transformed from… an Adept? No, Acolyte? No… Oh, right. An Apostle. That was what he had been before. And now he was a Flesh Cultist. Like his earlier class just hadn’t been outright evil enough.
Primordial Gauge had also highlighted a white-blue aura around Derrick, just as it had with the Floor Lord. Red spots around his neck and over his eyes indicated the weak spots.
Without warning, Derrick threw out Flesh Leech at the fallen Sylvan. Almost half a dozen glistening, black-brown worms shot at the Floor Lord. Well, they were supposed to be worms, but they were easily as big as small snakes. Five small serpents that attacked Olgolair and immediately began burrowing into his wounds.
Ray’s stomach turned. Aside from stealing the thunder if his victory, Derrick’s little ability was also highly disgusting.
“This…” the Floor Lord said, clearly struggling to get the words out before he lost consciousness. “…isn’t over. You… acted… too fast.”
Derrick Orden shook his head. “You would only concede defeat once you died. Which would make our deal moot. Can’t have that, now can we?”
“You—”
Ray used Soulstrike and crushed the Floor Lord’s head to bloody pulp and bits of horn and skull.
[Enemy Defeated—Sylvan]
Propulsor Enigmatist [Tier 4] Sylvan: [Level 29] x1
Essence: +5,800
Knowledge: +3
Mana Restored: +290
Essence to Level 21: 12,740/24,300
Knowledge to next Threshold: 603/800
Ray’s legs were shaky and his body was still injured and fatigued, but he had managed to use a Soulstrike just in time. As much as he appreciated the sheer volume of Essence that killing the Floor Lord had finally provided, it still left a bad taste in his mouth.
This whole journey across the tower had built up to his confrontation with Olgolair, the so-called Handler. And now his kill had nearly been solen by this freakshow standing before him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, huh?” Ray asked, glaring at Derrick.
He only looked down at the Sylvan’s bleeding, cooling corpse with mild disappointment. “Are you sure you want to take that tone with me? After all, you’re in quite the state. Easy pickings. You’d do well to mind your tongue and manners.”
It irked Ray to no end that he was repeating this. He had dealt with this idiot. Back at the Base, when they’d had that huge battle, Ray had defeated Derrick Orden. Ray had proven that he was superior to the leader of the Wild Tides.
He was not at all enthused about repeating the same rigmarole.
“And you should remember what happened the last time we met, Derrick,” Ray said. “You lost. You think just because your class evolved means you can beat me now?”
“Is that right? You never struck me as the kind to lack imagination, Raymond.”
“If I tried to imagine a scenario where you beat me, we’ll be here all day. How about I just kick your ass again. Into a grave this time, so you can stop being a damn nuisance.”
Derrick Orden slowly raised both his arms. Small streams of red energy were flickering towards him. A few came from the Floor Lord’s corpse, but several were arriving from farther away. From somewhere outside .
Cult Following. That spell was sending him more power.
“We’ve gone through this already,” Ray said. “You trying to get more power from your followers isn’t going to work. Doesn’t matter if your weird ability went up a Tier. There’s even less of them now than before, and their numbers are decreasing all the time. What are you going to do when all your little cult members are either dead or gone?”
Derrick didn’t look worried. Ray was starting to think he had way too much faith in his new powers after evolving his Ascension Class, but then he spoke.
“And you are relying far too much on your assumptions based on our previous meeting,” Derrick said. The neutrality in his face that he had been holding onto so far now crumbed and fell. Finally, his underlying anger was underlying no longer. “You’re stupid. Insipid. Do you really think I’d strut here just to repeat the same exercise?”
“Oh? Are you finally going to admit that you repent and you’ve come here to offer me your head? I might forgive the rest of your followers, if so.”
Derrick’s face turned stony. “Followers, followers. I suppose I shouldn’t blame you for fixating on them. That is the crux of the matter. Even if it is your followers, not mine.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ve been a thorn at my side for far too long. It’s time I put you to rest.”
Since he wasn’t exactly being open, Ray ignored him and quickly sent a message to Kredevel. There had to be a reason why he was so confident.
Ray: Kredevel. Derrick Orden is here and he’s acting really confident. Do you know what’s happened with him?
Derrick’s lips were slowly spreading, like he knew Ray was contacting Kredevel.
Kredevel: He is already there?
There was a short pause, like Kredevel was cursing aloud.
Kredevel: Be wary, Ray. He manes to take advantage of your weakened state to kill you, then immediately assault the members of your Faction and your other allies.
Ray: That assumes he can kill me.
Kredevel: He can. He will. Because he has an ace up his sleeve, as you humans like to put it.
Ray: Ace… you mean whatever his deal with the Floor Lord was?
Kredevel: Correct. Derrick Orden has assumed control of the Sylvans.