My attempt at getting back up from the dirt was halted by a sudden and violent knee flying into my chest. Without having the opportunity or ability to dodge I was forced to push whatever Mana I could into my Cloak, but that effort proved useless when the knee burst into red light and tore what little I could conjure into quickly fading motes of Mana.
I thought for sure that the attack would kill me, that was what I could figure out with Battle Meditation at least, but at the last second the attack slowed down and only pressed me roughly into the dirt.
And then the punches started. None of them were enhanced by magic, or even Skills of any kind judging by how weak they were, but they hurt all the same. At the end of the day, whilst my Strength was above average for someone who had just awakened, it was painfully lower than what anyone who does even a modicum of manual labour would achieve. Any attempt at protecting myself with Cloak was quickly thwarted by a stream of mist emerging from somewhere under my cloak.
But whilst all of this was happening, my mind was far from idle. Thoughts raced through my head, ranging from ways that I could get out of this situation, to regret about not insisting that we bring Render along, to one persistent thing that kept bugging me.
Where is this mist coming from?
It looked like the majority of it was coming from either somewhere in the trees or directly from the Lord’s body, but for some reason the mist around me kept building up no matter how much was Scorched whilst destroying my Mana.
I reached into my cloak, my movements going unnoticed under the rain of blows that had been getting progressively weaker over time, and rummaged around until my fingers brushed against something smooth and metallic.
The medal! Is it enchanted or something?
Trying my hardest to be subtle, I ineffectually pulled at the medal, eventually resorting to turning off Scorch Affinity for a moment to burn a hole in the cloak itself. The tiny gold shield was cold in my hand, quickly numbing the fingers that came in contact with it. In just the few seconds that it took to get rid of it my hand grew weaker enough that holding it closed was becoming a chore, but I persisted and managed to drop it on the floor beside me.
Now just to get away from it, shouldn’t be too hard.
A sharp pain erupted in my cheek, far worse than the easily ignorable punches that I’d been dealing with up to that point, and I let out an uncharacteristic shout from. The Lord chuckled at that, seemingly satisfied with my punishment so far, which gave me a chance to feel the injured spot on my cheek.
Yep, that’s broken.
Despite how obviously painful it should have been, I felt my mind simply drifting away from it, like I was just… leaving it behind or something. Not in the best state of mind for connecting the effect to any of my Skills, I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and moved my focus onto planning.
Whenever I try to use any magic he controls that Blood Red Mist to dispel it, so does that mean that if he doesn’t notice me trying to cast something he won’t be able to cancel it?
At some point he’d stood up and lifted me by my neck, but I just used Battle Meditation to ignore it, even after I was thrown back onto the ground a few metres away.
How could I Charge anything without him noticing? I could try to do it quickly, but after trying to defend against so many attacks I only have- I took a moment to check my Pool- wow, like half of my Mana left. That seems like it’s too low. Is that the effect of the Mist? Or at least one of them?
Lord Ironhold, clearly getting tired of me ignoring his attacks and provocations, prepared another array. This one glowed an ominous red similar to the Mist, yet distinctly darker.
People don’t usually look up, do they? Maybe if I just move the spell into the sky? I considered looking up to gauge the distance but moving my head felt like it would take more effort than it would be worth (belatedly, I realised that it might have also given the game away) so I just decided to wing it and Charge a Bolt as high up as I possibly could.
The drain on my Mana was immediately noticeable, increasing to several times higher than it would be, though whether that was down to the mist or the distance I didn’t have the will nor motive to figure out.
It’ll have to do.
“Well, I’ve had my fun but I think we’re done here. This,“ He gestured at the array suspended in front of himself, “is actually a little spell of my own design. It uses a slightly different Affinity than the Blood Red Mist, but you’ll find that its effects are quite similar.” With that and a snap of his fingers the array emitted an ominous red glow, simultaneously creating a slight numbness across my body similar to what I felt from the medal that was in my cloak not too long ago.
I braced myself for the pain, but it didn’t come. Instead, the numbness only grew. What pain I could feel radiating from across my body slowly faded away, until I struggled to figure out where I was injured. Then I was on the floor, trying to lift myself up with my arms, but failing pathetically.
I just have to keep Charging, keep Charging and then I can win.
I should have been able to at least try to figure out what was happening to me, but my thoughts were jumbled and slow. Within seconds it became difficult to find even a single coherent thought and, it would seem, my magical abilities were similarly damaged.
The cost… That’s higher than before… right? This can’t… it won’t work…
Am I… going to die?
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As each and every thought got harder and harder to make my mind began to clear, reaching a state similar to what I used to be able to achieve with Meditation. My vision darkened until I could see nothing but inky darkness in all directions. Soon, all of my thoughts and memories began to fade in, but they were distant. I probably wouldn’t be able to reach them if I tried.
My mind was, effectively, empty but for one thing, one thought.
I just have to keep Charging.
My Skills were easy to reach, whatever was doing this to me was apparently incapable of interfering with the System’s business, and I found myself drifting over to them without knowing exactly how or why.
I just have to keep Charging.
But my Mana was getting low, at this rate I only had a few more seconds before I ran out and the Bolt would no longer be able to sustain itself. It would probably fire, but not with the power required to finish off the Lord.
I just have to keep Charging.
What more could I possibly do to keep Charging? I needed something else to power it, some new deeper source of Mana. Did I have anything like that? Technically, no. I had no such thing, and I doubted that anyone else did either. But in practice, things were a little different. My metaphysical hands clasped around where I knew King slayer to be and pulled.
I just have to keep Charging.
At first, nothing happened. There was something on the other end of this thing, something great and powerful and ancient, but it was unwilling to just come over here and help me.
I just have to keep Charging.
But then something changed and some kind of energy (Mana? No. Something different, but what?) came rushing through.
Just this once
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Lord Finnud of Ironhold, the so-called ‘Mage Killer’ was annoyed. Usually this wasn’t the case, he led a leisurely life of power and wealth where people would bend over backwards just for a chance at meeting with him, but in this instance his… hobby had met a rather inconvenient setback.
Namely, Robert Zeneki, the Lightning Adept. Finnud had taken his time with this one, who first came into his city with an unusually high Affinity seemingly days after his Awakening. In the short time that he’d been able to hold himself back, the boy’s Affinity for Lightning had only grown. Killing him would be sure to grant him powerful magic and, more importantly, an actual Gods damned level.
And now the moment was finally upon him. But the wait was grating on his nerves, and this pathetic excuse for a fight even moreso. One could argue that it was his fault for toying with him for so long, and then deliberately keeping him alive so that he could get a reaction out of him, but if someone did so they would be discreetly executed. That is to say, he would personally make sure they didn’t have the lungs required to speak to him in such a way.
Of course, he hadn’t yet learned his lesson, and was still prolonging the Lightning Adept’s death for his own amusement. The spell he was using was a complex array derived from the Blood Red Mist that he’d bought from that cultist, though the details were irrelevant.
What mattered was what it would do. By now, Rob’s mind should be all but gone, and his soul would be coming next. It wouldn’t be painful, since he wouldn’t be there to experience anything, but that was a fine price to pay for permanently removing such an annoying pest’s soul. If it was reincarnated as someone more competent, then it might actually become a threat one day.
You have drawn the ire of Robert Zeneki, Slayer of Kings, Scorcher of Affinities. Say your final prayers before you face Oblivion.
What? I’ll be facing Oblivion? Isn’t that one of the minor Gods? No wait, that doesn’t matter, why does he of all people have an Announcement?
Finnud looked back at Rob’s limp body, but he still looked to be unconscious. He hadn’t moved from where he’d collapsed from the effects of the spell.
Could it be an error in the System? The text isn’t fully capitalised, just like my Pact…
His face went white as a sheet and, as Rob shakily opened an eye, he came to a terrifying realisation.
No, it can’t be possible. Why would the Gods get involved now, of all times? For him, of all people? Why?
He tried to leave but his foot had caught on something, and he found himself struggling to reach the mental calmness that he needed to properly control the Affinities that roiled around his body.
“Shit shit shit.” He looked down and saw that Rob, with all the finesse of a Golem, had crawled through the dirt to grab Finnud by the leg. His face, which until now had betrayed a sparing few emotions, was filled with an eerily out of place determination and, to no lesser of an extent, rage.
“What the fuck? What the fuck is wrong with you? What are you? Get the fuck off of me!” Finnud desperately kicked at Rob’s arm, not entirely certain what he was so afraid of, before he finally noticed something odd happening around him.
The Affinity in the air of the clearing was a lot sparser than moments before. Or rather, the Mana was a lot sparser and it had taken the Affinity with it. After being frozen for a full second he was able to witness as, all at once, a wave of Mana was pulled into something high up above.
Without even looking up, he realised what it was.
How? Since when could he make spells so far away? I mean, it’s not like it’s difficult, but he didn’t even do it once whilst I was watching him train his magic. What the fuck?
Desperately, an amalgamation of his stolen Affinities burst out of his leg, creating an explosion that launched Rob head first into a tree. But his hopes that Rob would be killed on impact and be unable to charge whatever spell this was any further were dashed as he watched a burst of Lightning slow his momentum and soften the blow.
He was still intact and, now that he had time to think about it, probably much safer than Finnud was.
“Shit!” The Lord pulsed through every Affinity he could think of before landing on what was left of Light, creating a burst of yellow throughout his veins before attempting to use his pseudo teleportation spell to get the hells out of there.
But by this point Rob knew what the yellow light meant, and instinctively released the largest Bolt he’d ever had the pleasure of creating before the Mage Killer even knew what was happening. A pillar of white cyan, interspersed with lines of painfully bright gold, dropped onto the serial killer’s head, enveloping him completely.
As it cleared, Rob stumbled to his feet and took a few shambling steps forwards.
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Combat Cleared You have annihilated the Lord of Affinity [Level 11]
You Have Reached Level 25
Incredible Feat Accomplished
You Have Earned The Feat [Lightning Master]
I stood in the scorched ground where, just moments ago, a person had stood. Or, something that could have once called himself a person. I sighed, and looked up into the sky, despite the pain it caused throughout my body.
Something wet fell on my face, and I realised that the blurry indistinct shapes were clouds, and that they were probably supposed to look like that.
Heh, at least my vision’s fine.
As the rain began to fall, a soft pitter patter of thousands of drops of water hitting the charred and blackened earth, I felt a weight lift off of my soul. I’d actually done it, I’d avenged my friend, and now I could get back to my life as if nothing had ever happened.
I lost the strength in my legs and dropped to my hands and knees, just barely managing to avoid fully falling into the dirt. I wasn’t weak, at least not physically. In fact, the moment the Mage Killer died I felt my strength returning.
But for some reason, I just didn’t have the will to stand up anymore. Something wet ran down my face, and I knew that it wasn’t water.
Why? Why am I crying? This- I did it. I won, so I shouldn’t be crying.
“Damn it…” I muttered, and a spark of Lightning arced across my body, “DAMN IT!” The Lightning burst into a crack of Thunder, and I felt what was left of my Mana be depleted as I fruitlessly shot a Bolt into the air, not bothering to move from my hunched over position.
Why do I feel so empty?