The chic workspaces and server rooms of the lower floors gave way to steel and stone as Alarion ascended. Gone were the glass conference rooms, the gleaming metal fabrication devices and delicate light fixtures. Security was practical, precise and clean, laden with heavy blast doors and head pounding fluorescence.
Alarion had intended on stealth but abandoned that plan almost immediately when faced with neat, well lit, straight corridors. Sierra perhaps, could have hidden, had she broken a light fixture anyway. But no amount of preternatural stealth skills would compensate for the fact that there was simply nowhere to hide.
Even the doorways lay flush with the hall, opening not with a traditional push or pull, but with a touch to a small glass panel at their side. And very audible hydraulics that echoed far further than they had any right to.
With stealth out of the question, Alarion opted for confidence. He moved decisively, one eye always on Alex’s map to minimize his exposure to the roaming patrols of Soulless.
Alarion gave the bracelet a look.
Alarion winced, about to say something more when a shrill whine interrupted their conversation.
Alex’s warning was just barely enough. Even with superhuman reflexes, Alarion only narrowly dodged the first two shots. He retaliated in kind. His greatsword raced the short distance between them and shattered the dual-barreled device that had emerged from a ceiling panel. But not before it fired off one final blast in reprisal.
Alarion’s shield flickered into existence, pink light scattering off it like rain off an umbrella. Except these drops melted tile and metal around him as they slid off onto surrounding surfaces.
If Alarion had heard Alex’s words he didn’t show it, his eyes glued to his glowing shield.
Alarion started in on a brash response, but bit his tongue. After a thought he answered honestly.
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
Alarion tapped the bracelet as instructed the moment it began to pulse.
The three machines at the far end of the hall were similar in shape and concept to the ones Alarion had fought below, but even at a distance they were recognizably more advanced. Gone was the mono-color blackstone aesthetic. These machines were trimmed in silver and gold, engraved with heraldry, their glowing green faceplates adorned with crests, crowns and even a plume of feathers. Even their stone was polished to a mirror sheen unlike the cold, light absorbing models Alarion had previously faced.
Their movements were fluid, their bodies floating to and fro with a liquidity that outstripped their brethren. Even their armament was different, each carrying a wicked looking spear with some sort of underslung barrel that reminded him distinctly of the turret he had recently destroyed. They were, in every way, superior models to the Soulless sentries he had fought with Sierra’s help.
And he tore them apart in seconds.
His newest shifting ability was the biggest culprit by far. In another life, the fight would have been grueling. Possibly unwinnable. The soulless were over a hundred feet down a straight corridor, without an inch of cover or concealment. They would have laid in, peppering him with shot after shot of their deadly weapons while he desperately tried to close the distance.
Instead they got one shot, one solitary beam that struck nothing but the wall. At such a distance Alarion could not reasonably hit his targets, but he didn’t have to. Throwing the ‘dagger’ into their midst was enough. A flicker later, a tearing of reality, and he was among them, his blade carving foes unprepared for his sudden arrival.
One fell. Then two. The third managed to block Alarion’s decisive blow with the haft of its spear, locking the two together in a deadly game of strength against strength. A game the Soulless could not hope to win. Alarion drove it to one knee. Then its back. It released its spear to level an arm in his direction, and lost the arm for its trouble.
Then its head.
Alarion looked disappointed as he shook his head.
> You have slain [S̸̢̱̤͝͠M̶̼̩̉̆-̵̘̿̇̅4̷̣̞̗̍1̴͓̦̪̓͂̊Ạ̸̘̾ ̵̺̦͋-̴͉̅́͛͜ ̶̙͊̓̓C̴̼͆͆̚ͅȍ̶̪̣m̶̼̋̐̃͜ẻ̶̝̪̫͊t̴̡̺̘͐ – UCL Error]
> Exception: Unexpected Subject
> Full Traceback
> Re-categorizing
>
> You have slain [Soulless Soldier – UCL 106] – Bonus Experience earned for slaying an opponent above your UCL.
UCL 106, compared to UCL 96. It was a jump, but not nearly the qualitative difference that Alex had led Alarion to believe he was getting himself into. In their element, if they were able to bring their projectile weapons to the fight, they could be dangerous opponents. But as it stood, they felt less threatening than some of the fiends.
The thought was arrogant. Alarion knew it. He’d grown by leaps and bounds in days. Logically he knew that these things would have murdered the version of him that had come to the island only days earlier. Yet it was hard to square that reality with the fact the he didn’t feel like a different person. Stronger, faster and more resilient. But still just him.
The idea had been simple. Skills and levels increased survival. Self-Motivated had proven itself time and again as Alarion’s most valuable skill. And he was awfully close to his 10th level in Orphan. If this Duke was as dangerous as Alex suggested, then Alarion would need every advantage.
The only problem, was diminishing returns.
The enemy were higher level than he was, and they were Soulless besides. Alarion gained a considerable bonus to XP gain from his Aptitude, and he was fighting alone. Forty-two Soulless and two dozen turrets should have been enough to push him over the edge. They should have.
The issue was that the fights were too easy. Too practiced. Battle after battle Alarion teleported into reach of his foes and tore them asunder. Undeniably effective, but neither novel, nor difficult. At 90% progress to level, the experience had dried up almost entirely, as had the flow of possible victims.
And Alarion’s chances at one final level up.
Alarion grunted. Alex was right, but he didn’t like having to admit it. There was the logical choice, and the emotional choice. He’d lost three coin flips to the logical choice, and still hadn’t picked it. He was just delaying the inevitable guilt. And satisfaction.
> You have selected the skill Unyielding Defiance [Exceptional]. Is this correct? Y/N
> Please note, this selection is permanent.
This time, Alarion did not hesitate.