"Explain, if you would," Jorfr prompted, intensifying his aura just enough that the bandits wouldn't flee but not enough to kill. A handful nonetheless collapsed, and one did so in an unfortunate manner, smashing his forehead on the road.
Slowly, Lydia approached, flicking her wrist upward. The sword Vysaga dragged itself out of its sheath, slowly rising until it freed itself and slammed into the ground by her side. It slowly dragged along, its handle only centimeters behind her outstretched, open hand. There was something weird about it.
"I left Fort 57 in the hopes that my absence would lure in these morons so I could come back and tear them out by the roots, though I admit that I did not expect them to bring a force of this size. I suspect they did so specifically on the off-chance that I was not truly gone."
As she approached, Jorfr realized what the strangeness was: The Smell. Petrichor.
“...But this many wouldn’t have been enough, even without a walking glacier in the tavern. Not nearly enough.”
The woman was a cultivator, a proper one unlike these bandits. Jorfr felt the same blade-like aura from her as he did from Makhus. But there was… Something else. Something familiar, but somewhat new, something that Zelsys had. An arrow was set loose from beyond the treeline at the speed of a bullet, arcing through the air to bypass the reach of Jorfr’s statues and strike - not at him, but at Lydia. It didn’t get through, with one Wide-wuth lunging into the way to block it. The statue’s movement opened up a gap, and through it, three more arrows flew. The archer had made a bet and won it. One of the bandits also tried to slip through, but Jorfr simply retracted one of his spears, moved it within his reach, and used it to impale the man where he stood. The whole surrounding area was his domain.
Lydia flicked her wrist again and Vysaga rose up in front of her, revolving in place as the blade became wreathed in lightning in the colour of cherry blossoms. That was it. One of the Stormbloom’s Thundergods. The colour was strange, but the feeling it gave off was unmistakable.
One arrow managed to curve so aggressively it circumvented the defense, struck the side of Lydia’s mask and continued further, both severing the string which held it on and tearing the hood from her head. The entire right half of the woman’s face was covered in a scar in the shape of a lichtenberg figure, and though her hair still miraculously grew, the right half of it had turned white.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Anger flashed over her face at that and she approached Jorfr, who had by now raised yet another Wide-wuth to widen his defensive line. “Senior, I would request that you ensure the safety of the Fort and permit me to enact a selfish vendetta.”
“Don’t use sect honorifics with me. Here. I will know to come if you are ambushed.”
Jorfr quickly formed an ice bangle designed to break and send out an aetherwave pulse if its bearer was severely wounded or activated it themselves, whether consciously or out of panic. The frequency was tuned so that only his Tablet would receive the pulse. He tossed it over to Lydia who caught it with her outstretched hand, and it shrunk down to tightly clasp itself around her wrist.
The woman sprinted towards the treeline like an absolute maniac, waving her right arm while performing hand-seals with the other. Vysaga lashed out at her command, cutting down and impaling one man after the next. To Jorfr’s relief, she mostly limited herself to striking down those among the raiders who were not immobilized by his aura. Besides them, she picked out several clearly specific individuals, and Jorfr reasonably assumed that she had reason to slay them. He did, however, release his hold on those he saw her going for, to give them a chance to fight back or flee, as was right.
Rather quickly, though, Lydia came to blows with the leader of the raiders. Jorfr did not directly intervene, besides manipulating his statues to make it abundantly clear that he would not stand for attempts at interference from Idda’s lieutenants. One lost his life when he tried to intervene anyway, and another was sent careening through the air with a forceful shield-bash. It was clear that Lydia was not having an easy time of it, as Idda demonstrated impressive defensive swordsmanship and ability to project auratic blades strong enough to rip through the ground and cut apart nearby small boulders poking out from the ground. Her offense was surprisingly dextrous and persistent, using her strongly-curved greatsword as a counterweight to keep up a near constant attack.
In terms of raw power it was a low-level fight, with either combatant equaling at most the strength of a dozen mortal soldiers. However, Jorfr had to give credit where it was due. Idda’s technique was impressive… If not a bit familiar. He wasn’t sure which, but he was certain she used techniques from either the Black Horse Sect or Sanger Sect. Perhaps she belonged to some low-key splinter sect that took in former members of both the Black Horses and Sangers.
By contrast Lydia’s style blended her strangely extensive telekinetic control over Vysaga with the Sanger Sect’s lower-echelon defensive style and various applications of the framework detailed in Sturmblitz Kunst 0. This created a style with potent, stable defense overall and savage, explosive offense in moments of opportunity. At times she used Vysaga as one would a long pike, while other times she set loose unstable, shortlived blades of pink lightning that just barely registered to Jorfr’s senses as swordlight. She seemed to use an adaptable breathing method capable of continuous, consistent output as well as outbursts of high performance. However, not being an advanced Pneuma user himself, Jorfr’s reading was far from expert.