“ETHAN!”
Fauna’s scream pierced the air with as much burning intensity as the tip of the Lightborn’s Onixia blade thrust deeper into Ethan’s chest with each passing second.
And the Archon felt the incendiary pain of one of his predecessors’ own blood being used against him.
Or at least, he would have, if the blade had done any harm to his real body at all.
[Ethereal Form: Deactivated]
He looked down at Artorious’ old face, full of fire and fury, and smiled.
“Not as quick as you once were, eh old man?”
[Twilight Edge]
Ethan’s scythe struck true, slitting across the old man’s arm in a dark mercy stroke that would have severed the hand from any ordinary human warrior. For the Lightborn, he just managed to dislodge his rapier from his shaking hand. A Wing Buffet then sent him and his crazed commander reeling back against the far end of the arena.
“Keep her occupied!” Ethan barked to his comrades. “The old man’s mine.”
There was barely any time to rest on his laurels. Out of the blue haze of a waterfall the Lightborn came charging at him again, his grey cowl fluttering around his insanely fast form. As Klax, Fauna, and Tara moved to intercept Carliah, Ethan aimed his blade at Artorious and sent a charged beam of energy skating clear across the arena directly at the old man’s face. The snipe was powerful enough to sear through adamantine.
And the crazy bastard tanked it.
Ethan saw his dark smile as the shock from his attack faded. He was barely able to bring up his shield to intercept Artorious’ lightning-wreathed fists as they came down on him.
Even then, the pressure against him was too much to bear. He quickly activated his Ethereal Form again and rolled behind the old man, flanking him with as much speed as his form could conjure and raking his scythe up his back. The Lightborn merely turned, tracing his reaquired rapier in the air in a deadly pirouette that knocked Ethan’s shield out of his hands even as the burning pain from the scythe blow radiated up the old man’s body.
He was still just as abnormally quick as Ethan remembered. But speed and power wouldn’t be enough for him.
[Summon Wraith: Activated]
The Lightborn staggered, letting out a roar of pure rage as a pair of shadowed claws pierced his side. His eyes darted to the new enemy that had emerged behind him and he struck out with a blow that dislodged its dark skull from its incorporeal body like a wolf biting down on its prey. Yet, he’d left himself open yet again. It seemed there was still some hubris in the old man, after all.
And Ethan took full advantage. With a Roar that managed to cut the old man’s speed in half, he lunged with his scythe and aimed for the Lightborn’s neck. The blow connected, sending Artorious to the ground as a trail of crimson gushed from his back and spread across the arena floor.
Ethan didn’t let up. With a leap and another flap of his skeletal wings to keep the old man pinned, he brought his scythe down in a stroke that could take the head clean off his shoulders.
And then – pain.
His left side felt like a truck had run through it again, and he was instantly brought off-balance. He hurtled to the ground with a torrent of purple bile escaping his pale lips.
HP: -150
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What…
He looked down to see the Onixia blade embedded in his ribcage, twisting as it sapped more and more of his HP.
HP: -50
He groaned in pain as the Lightborn stood, craned his neck, and looked down at his fallen enemy.
He can…remotely control his sword…
Ethan had expected some cheer – some lofty speech that the old man had been practicing for this moment when he looked down on his ancient enemy in his clutches.
Instead, he pushed forward like a beast possessed by something devilish, and grabbed his hilt of his blade, ready to plunge it up into the heart of his foe for real, this time.
Only, in the next moment he blinked through the pain that he was trying to push through, the Archon was gone.
He blinked again, trying to focus his perception. It was another trick. Another dastardly plan the beast had laid out to try and win when it was facing a foe it clearly had no chance of being able to outmaneuver. He closed his eyes. He tried to focus on the energy of his blade. He tried –
“Artorious!” Carliah called from across the arena. “Quit meditating and kill the bastard!”
He turned to admonish her, teeth grit in consternation, but found that she was engaged in heavy combat with the demon’s hybrids. He knit his brows in confusion for a second before he realized what had happened.
And in that second, it was already too late.
Ethan deactivated his [Hide] and [Summon Illusion] that had managed to create a good enough impression of the Greycloak commander. Then he drove the Onxia sword into the Lightborn’s gut, twisting the blade with as much temerity as its owner had when he shoved it into him. Artorious let out of a scream of hatred, managing to spin and get his flaring hand around Ethan’s throat before the latter brought his dark scythe down to sweep the Lightborn’s legs and send him rolling across the arena, bleeding out on the floor.
Across the battlefield, Klax, Fauna, and Tara were doing their best to keep Carliah Argent contained. The Commander of the Grey well deserved her title. She barely even moved as she countered each of Klax’s blows with a parry and riposte that struck the wolfman’s vitals and pushed him back. Her defences were equally as intimidating. Every arrow that Tara sent her way was intercepted and cut apart – even the triad of flaming silver projectiles that were the Minxit’s specialty. In Fauna’s case, she simply shrugged off most magical attacks, smiling as she walked right through fireballs and checking her nails as lightning bolts washed over her body.
“What’s this bitch made of!?!” Tara shouted.
“She’s playing with us,” Fauna said. “She’s…enjoying this.”
“Well,” Klax growled. “We’ll just have to wipe that smirk off her face. Together, now!”
All three of them charged as a unit, surprising the commander as she braced herself to meet them. Fauna charged both Tara and Klax with her radiant coating – the spell working instantly to electrify Tara’s daggers and cause ripples of killing light to coat Klax’s fists. They flanked her, each one unleashing a flurry of blows that she couldn’t dodge, couldn’t block. She took them like a ragdoll, being pushed back inch by inch until she and her assailants were finally at the very edge of the Nerve Tower’s peak.
And as the spectral waterfall washed over them, her eyes suddenly shone with power.
“My turn.”
Before the next blows were struck, the vicious commander grabbed Klax’s fist and twisted it, summoning a howl from the Lycae that sent Tara immediately off-balance. Without even drawing her sword, she lifted the wolfman up and brought him crashing on the Minxit with enough force to shatter every bone in a mortal body. Both hybrids went skidding across the floor of the arena while Fauna summoned a wind to take them out of the way of Carliah’s plunging strike.
“Don’t worry, little rabbit,” she laughed. “You’ll get your turn next!”
Ethan heard their screams as the commander unleashed hell on them. He wanted to run to them to help, but the sight of the bleeding, wounded Lightborn he marched towards presented the end of this nightmare. He had to take the chance.
He sent a Twilight Edge at the old man which kicked him right to the edge of the arena. Then, another swipe of his scythe and the Onixia blade together carved a bloody slash across his chest.
Ethan panted as he brought his scythe down again – this time raking the old man’s leg.
But he looked up, in the face of his triumph, to see Artorious’ unblinking face not even letting out a single scream.
He cut into him with the Onixia sword, thrusting the blade into the old man’s chest again and again, withdrawing it with a torrent of blood before plunging it right back in.
And still, the Lightborn just sat there and took it.
Finally, unwilling to accept what his mind was telling him, Ethan blinked and Appraised his foe:
Class: LIGHTBORN
HP: 2800/3000
His eyes wouldn’t believe it. They couldn’t believe it.
He slashed again, and again – each new blow drawing another cry of rage from the lips of his Host. Each new blow carving into the flesh of the old man, tearing right through his armor and cutting into muscle.
It…it had to be.
And yet…
HP: 2700/3000
He stood over the downed man, his back soggy from the waterfall cascading over them, washing the Lightborn’s spilled blood away.
Then, the old warrior’s lips finally parted in a grim question:
“Is it beginning to sink in, yet?”