Ray stood staring at his latest adversary as he approached. Derrick Orden had taken control of the Sylvans. How that was possible, Ray couldn’t even begin to fathom. But the important point was that Derrick’s following had grown tremendously, which meant his Cult Following spell was boosting his powers an enormous deal.
No wonder he was so confident.
Ray: How? The Floor Lord actually agreed to let a human take charge of the Sylvans in the case of his death?
Ray actually could see how it was possible. From all he had seen so far, the Handler didn’t really care for his subordinates. So what if they were under some cultish human after he was gone? Who was he to care?
Kredevel: I assume the Floor Lord never imagined his death coming to pass. It was their original agreement, that—
“Die, Raymond,” Derrick said. “Channel Prayer.”
The Wild Tides leader attacked, forcing Ray to close the chat window and focus on his opponent.
It was the power of a new Tower Node that Derrick was channelling. Had to be. Because instead of manifesting bestial claws around his forearms, he created a scorpion.
His arms began malforming and twisting. If the effects of Ray’s Lifeblood Chaos didn’t cause his enemies’ flesh to become so gruesomely twisted and deformed, if he hadn’t become desensitized to it already, he would probably have been a little shocked.
Even then, he had to appreciate the gruesomeness of it all. Derrick’s skin hardened, his flesh transformed, his bones lengthened and conjoined. On his right arm, the fingers banded together to form large pincers, big and sharp enough to guillotine Ray’s neck with ease. Meanwhile, Derrick’s left arm elongated and segmented to form a stinger.
An honest-to-goodness, oversized scorpion stinger, dripping at the end with poison.
Ray was almost tempted to laugh. Poison. Just what he had used to kill the Floor Lord. Derrick clearly held onto a great sense of irony.
Of course, Ray wasn’t going to be a sitting duck forever. He used Mottling Spiritguard multiple times to summon dozens upon dozens of orbs filled with bursting chaotic energy. They all shot at the leader of the Wild Tides.
There was a sizable difference in stats between Ray and his opponent. The only way to counter that was by using Vengeful Plunder while getting in as many hits as possible.
But Derrick was aware of Ray’s plans. Plus, he was much faster too. Even as his arms continued transforming, his feet let him evade the salvo of chaotic orbs without too much trouble. No matter how Ray targeted Derrick, the bastard just kept evading.
And then the transformation was done.
Without warning, Derrick slashed his arm. At the same time, the claw on his right hand glowed, an apparition of its form growing to a huge size as it smashed at Ray.
It wasn’t difficult to dodge back. Ray called up Soaring Wings, turning the spiky feathers into jets emanating forward to throw himself back. Derrick’s oversized pincers crashed down where Ray had been standing, crushing the tiles and leaving a deep crater.
But the evasion wasn’t done. Derrick’s other arm flashed. The stinger shot in like an arrow loosed from a bow, the segmented tail stretching from the Wild Tides leader’s elbow. Ray instinctively reacted to turn the jet’s downward, which forced him straight into the air. Another successful dodge.
Which led to an opening for a counter. Summoning up a dozen sparking orbs with Mottling Spiritguard, Ray sent half of them shooting at his opponent.
Derrick didn’t evade. He didn’t need to. Apparently, one of his three new abilities was summoning a strange, greenish cloud that dissolved the sparking orbs before they reached him. He had also shouted “Fervour’s Buffer!”, which drew in a significant chunk of the energy from the orbs to add to this own power manifesting around him.
“What happened to your last Tower Node, Derrick?” Ray asked. “You think just getting a new toy will help beat me?”
His voice was more ragged than he would have preferred. The pain at his waist had faded a bit as he had recovered just enough of his Recovery to close the wound. But the fatigue was worse than he realized.
Still, he did his best to hold his voice steady. Wouldn’t do to show any weakness to a foe.
In answer, Derrick yelled, “Amalgam!”
The flesh monster that formed into being almost made even Ray gag. Chunks of skinned flesh pulled off Derrick’s body on various areas, falling to the floor before joining together to form a misshapen monster.
Ray really ought to have taken the time to attack just then, but he was perhaps a little too tired, and too entranced by the living blob of flesh.
A blob of flesh that was growing teeth and claws.
Ray really couldn’t be blamed for staring at fangs, nails, and so much else manifesting at random locations. Did that thing have a spine? How was it even going to—
The question of its ability to move was answered in the next second. It shot at Ray without any legs or wings or limbs at all. Somehow, it could move however it wanted, zooming through the air like it had invisible rockets attached to its rear end. Disgusting.
Ray was able to evade it, knowing full well it would not be good if that thing got a hold of him.
But it was only a distraction. Ray twisted just in time to see Derrick Orden sailing at him even faster than his Amalgam had. A quick burst of his wings allowed Ray to just barely dodge, though Derrick got a good swipe across with his oversized pincers. It made Ray tumble out of the air and crash to the ground.
The landing wasn’t too rough, thankfully. He had no Recovery to spare.
Which seemed to be what Derrick Orden was determined to exploit, for he was rushing in at Ray again. So fast. Too fast.
Another instinctive cast of Primal Spiritcraft from Ray pulled up Impervious Shell this time. With a blur of chaotic energy, an ethereal version of the Duskshell’s carapace appeared in front of Ray. Just in time. Derrick Orden crashed in so hard, his pincer cracked through the dark shell.
All that saved Ray was the fact that it got stuck in this shield of a shell too. With a quick hop, Ray had retreated backwards. He really had to praise his instincts. If he hadn’t jumped back just then, the stinger looping over the shell would surely have struck him.
The Amalgam zoomed past Ray, getting him at the waist. He shouted out as the pain bloomed. He had managed to retain his footing, but the blood going down his legs was not good.
Ray glared at the frighteningly fast flesh demon. Stupid thing had to be boosted the same way Derrick was being boosted too. It was way too powerful.
“Looks like your minutes are numbered.” Derrick had the exact kind of nasty smile Ray expected evil cultists to hold when their world-ending plan was about to come to fruition. “Don’t worry. I’ll be sending the rest of your little playmates to you as soon as we’re done here.”
Swallowing and doing his best to ignore the pain at his waist, Ray called on his own construct. The Greater Windbane Maw formed up, complete with its own Soaring Wings to grant it the ability to match that flesh summons.
Kredevel: Just survive a moment longer, Ray. I shall arrive soon.
Ray: Don’t worry, I’ve got this.
Kredevel: You cannot beat him.
Ray: Take care of what you need to. I’ve GOT THIS.
Ray threw his hands behind his back. Derrick Orden charged, his pincer growing to gigantic proportions as the floor cracked at his every footstep. Too fast still, but Ray was ready.
Just as his opponent got in close, Ray threw out another Soulstrike. True Mana created a massive monochrome arm that Ray punched forward, modifying the end of it into a spiky stake to impale his foe.
It turned out Derrick Orden was ready too. As soon as he was close, as soon as he saw that Ray had used a spell, he called up that green cloud again.
And that was when Ray realized it was acid.
Derrick had turned the air into an acidic vapour that ate into everything. How had Ray not noticed it sizzling on the floor before?
The acid ate through the True Mana arm and began attacking Ray simultaneously. In that tiny instant, Ray was caught. If he drew back now, he wouldn’t be able to hit Derrick, which was probably what the Wild Tides leader had intended.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
But Ray didn’t move. He let the acid eat at him and his clothes, at his spell too, but forced it to connect.
Derrick Orden had manoeuvred his oversized pincer around to block the worst of the blow. But despite his acidic power eating away most of the Soulstrike, there was still enough force behind it to send him staggering back. His heavy footfalls left even deeper cracks on the floor.
He recovered quickly, which Ray had anticipated. Ray had already crushed a Mana crystal and called up Impervious Shell again, making sure to let it fall upright on the ground. Then he called up Soulstrike again and punched the back of the shell.
It flew forward like a piano falling horizontally. Ray couldn’t tell how surprised Derrick was by the move, but he had prepared the follow up anyway.
Ray had already activated Primal Spiritcraft. The draconic head had formed around his hand, his arm tuning into a sinuous neck. Then, as soon as the leader of the Wild Tides jumped to land lightly on top of the dark shell flying forward, Ray jerked his arm to aim the maw at his enemy and fire off the compressed laser.
But the pain at his waist flared like a hot anvil bursting out of his kidney. The wound finally reopened with a slicing pain, and Ray winced as he lost his aim.
The laser breath flew at Derrick’s shoulder instead of the chest area that Ray had aimed for. Even worse, all the energy from Ray’s spells that Derrick had gathered using Fervour’s Buffer now flew out, turning into a beam that countered Ray’s beam.
An explosion rocked the chamber, the shockwave forcing Ray back. He quickly used Mottling Spiritguard to form a defensive barricade of sparking orbs. Unfortunately, they didn’t help.
Derrick jumped in, smacking the sparking orbs with his oversized pincer claw. Ray was about to fall back, but then Derrick yelled, “Flesh Projection!”
The problem with Derrick’s new ability was that Ray couldn’t see where it was coming from. As such, he had no way to counter it. Which led to the hard blow landing on his lower back, close enough to his gut wound that the spasm of pain made him stumble to his knees.
He tried to throw his arm out, call out Soulstrike to protect himself. But Derrick was faster, taking advantage of Ray’s fatigue and pain slowing him down.
The stinger swooped in and stabbed Ray through the chest.
Surprisingly, the burst of agony didn’t last long. Ray’s vision started receding. Everything was going cold and dark, and he didn’t realize when he had fallen to lie flat on the floor.
It was hard to stomach, and not because his guts had been ripped open. So much progress. Wasted. He had come so far, beaten so many others, only to finally be defeated by this cheapskate trickster taking advantage of his state. It hadn’t even been a fair fight. Fucking annoying.
“Such a waste,” Derrick Orden said. He had no grin of victory. Just the mild disappointment from before. “If you had been a little more cooperating, I could have taken away your strength with my leeches. But alas. Here you and your little rebellion finally die.”
Ray tried to curse the bastard, but his mouth wasn’t working. Was this how the Floor Lord had felt before he had finally died by Ray’s hands? A strange surge of sympathy rose in him.
Derrick Orden had already turned away, so never got to see Ray flipping him off with the last of his strength.
Then, the darkness closed around him fully.
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[Warning!]
Jade Ring of the Phoenix has activated. All fatal damage has been absorbed by the ring.
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Kredevel wanted to curse himself for leaving. For prioritizing himself over everything else. He had become obsessed with himself, which had been a fatal error. Fatal for Ray.
For, had Kredevel not left the area, then Ray wouldn’t have died.
It was no excuse that he had left to heal himself. The battle against the Floor Lord had not only drained him greatly, had not only reinforced just how outclassed he was by the Handler, it had also left him greatly injured and weakened.
Kredevel couldn’t recall the last time he had been this close to dying. In fact, it was possibly never.
Which was why he had been forced to drag himself deeper into the palace. Ray’s dramatic entrance from the dungeon underneath might have destroyed a great deal of the Sylvan’s headquarters, but the more important locations were still safe. Like the infirmary Kredevel had dragged himself to.
He just hadn’t expected to encounter the leader of the Wild Tides along the way.
They had met while Kredevel was searching for his health poultice. Well, they had spotted each other. Kredevel hadn’t thought Derrick Orden would be foolish enough to interfere with the Floor Lord’s battle, so he had ignored the man. Besides, he had been too inured.
A horrible second had passed where he had wondered if the leader of the Wild Tides would attack Kredevel, but he had moved on for whatever reason.
The reason, it turned out, was to force the Floor Lord to capitulate.
And then kill Ray too, but that was probably just a helpful addon rather than the main goal. Because Kredevel had learned a frightening thing at the infirmary.
Expectedly, there was no one within at first. Kredevel had been able to grab one of the remaining poultices and recover enough of his injuries. It would be a while before his actual Recovery regenerated enough. But then, the other doorway opened and another Sylvan staggered in.
Serian. He was injured too. Kredevel’s heart clusters clenched at the sight, turning heavy as a drowned corpse, and he had rushed in to help his younger companion.
“You need to get out of here, Kredevel,” Serian had said. “That bastard of a human… he’s made a terrible deal with the Floor Lord.” Serian’s face had fallen. “I should have known from that meeting he had with you. The Floor Lord doesn’t care about us.”
Serian had gone on to reveal the deal and described how he had attempted to confront the Wild Tides leader about it, only to be gravely injured in the process. For the time being, Kredevel had left his young friend to heal up, while warning him to not take any further unnecessary risks.
He had passed on the information when Ray had asked, then tried to hurry back to the central chamber. Kredevel was too late.
But Ray had already fallen.
A heavy hollowness had settled in as Kredevel had approached the corpse. It was the same feeling that had struck him upon seeing Serian, but more real this time. Unlike Serian, Ray had actually died.
“You should have listened,” Kredevel said, staring admonishingly at his friend’s corpse. Yes. A friend. Too late, he realized he should have made that clearer to Ray before. And now, he might never get the chance. “You should have waited for me. You should have realized you don’t have to do everything on your own. You—”
It wasn’t the rising emotion that stopped Kredevel talking. Well, it was, but not the grief. It was surprise.
Ray’s body was regaining its colour. The wounds didn’t close and heal, but one couldn’t call it a corpse any longer. No surprise then, that a moment later, Ray opened his eyes.
Slowly, his mouth stretched into a wide grin. “Hey!”
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The ongoing battle was undoubtedly quite furious. Another first for Kredevel. He had never been in a campaign quite like this. None of the Sylvans had.
They were warriors. Enforcers. Powerful individuals on their own right.
Not soldiers, though.
According to everything Kredevel had seen and heard and learned so far, it was the fact the Sylvan forces weren’t a military might that the humans were taking advantage of. Not that the humans were either, but perhaps they were just that bit more flexible and adaptable.
Outside of the palace, in the forested lands that covered the majority of Sector 1, the battle raged on. The humans were conducting what was essentially guerilla warfare. They had no notion of honour. They weren’t here to prove their superiority. All they wanted to do was cause the annihilation of the Sylvans via any means necessary.
Kredevel couldn’t truly blame them for it. After all, they had been beset by the machinations of the Floor Lord and had been targeted by the rest of the Sylvans from the very beginning.
It still hurt a bit of Kredevel’s soul, though. His people shouldn’t be decimated like that.
He shook his head. No. He had to focus on himself. Had to focus on his goal. The goal of stopping Derrick Orden before he did anything worse.
So, Kredevel hurried on.
The forests here were the only thing on the First Floor that Kredevel would have called lush. Living, in a natural way. They provided ample cover for the attacking humans.
Strangely, there were almost no monsters here. One would be forgiven for thinking that the area with the greatest display of lively energy would hold the greatest number of monsters. But that wasn’t the case for some reason. The monsters preferred the deadness everywhere else.
Kredevel passed by several battles. He was constantly distracted by the lights of various powers flashing here and there, by the din and cacophony of battle all over. Sylvans and humans screaming and dying.
Oh, how Kredevel wanted to get in on the action. And how much he really didn’t, for he could barely tell which side he ought to fight for.
But that was alright. For he found the target he could take action again in no time.
Lastiel stumbled into a small clearing. Kredevel was waiting for him, and was unsurprised at the senior Sylvan’s state. One of his arms and legs were badly wounded, while the other pair were basically frozen solid, his horns had broken off, and an eye was missing entirely.
“Finally shedding your weak plausible deniability, are you?” Lastiel asked with a rasp. His throat sounded injured too. “Come to take advantage of me now that I have been weakened?”
Kredevel shook his head. “I am not here for you.”
“Then whatever are you doing here, Kredevel?”
“The man. The one who took control of you. He is the one I seek.”
Those words made Lastiel scowl. “I have no idea where that fool is.”
“Ah, you see, I do.”
The second-in-command Sylvan’s frown turned questioning, but Kredevel didn’t need to answer. Instead, two human women entered the clearing from behind. One of them, Kredevel recognized—the feisty one Ray had called Gritty. The other was a white-clad woman with golden hair and a cold, calculating expression.
“Leave it to me, sis,” Gritty said, stepping forward. “I want to rip out his guts.”
The other woman flickered a slightly disturbed look at her companion but didn’t protest.
Kredevel started backing away as Lastiel turned to face his aggressor. They were exchanging the tough words that preceded a battle. Kredevel paid it no mind. His real goal was—
His real goal appeared just then, forcing them all to turn to the left.
Derrick Orden had arrived.
“Ah, you’ve all finally gathered at one spot,” said the leader of the Wild Tides. “How convenient for me.”
“What do you want, Orden?” Lastiel said. “Can you not see that we are quite busy here?”
“I simply—Channel Prayer.”
That last incantation had come about because Kredevel had charged him. Derrick Orden’s flesh mutated, forming a stinger and a pincer in place of his hands just as Ray had described. But Kredevel didn’t care. He was already in position.
Projected Growth created a ring of spiralling hornlike spears to jut out of the ground around them. At the same time, Kredevel ducked under Derrick’s blow and grabbed the human around the waist, locking him in position. The others were reacting to the sudden brawl, but Kredevel didn’t care.
His job was done.
Kredevel: NOW, RAY.
He looked to his left to see it coming. Distant though it was, the vision of what came next was awestriking.
There was Ray, far, far off. He had risen into the air on four wings of black-and-white power, streams of chaotic crimson streaming off his back. A sheer aura of growing strength seeming to ripple around him, perceivable even as far away as Kredevel stood.
An instant later, he pointed one arm in Kredevel’s direction. It morphed into the head of an enormous Windbane made of pure chaotic energy. Simultaneously, he created another of the same maw as a separate summon flying beside him, along with what also looked like… a little flying eyeball? Hard to tell from that far away.
Unbelievable. If the Floor Lord had faced that kind of power, then on wonder he had eventually fallen.
The very next instant, before any of them could draw another breath, a huge beam of compressed energy smashed into the clearing. Just before his vision went dark, the last thing Kredevel felt was Derrick Orden desperately trying to escape, screaming at Kredevel to let him go. Then the beam struck its target. Kredevel knew no more.