Chapter 302
Ascendance (III)
Flurry of sounds compelled the world to its knees--what once was an ocean of darkness was now bathed in light of the fires. Cain’s wings fluttered often and swiftly, unleashing a torrent of fire down below. In the meantime, arrays of spells came at him from all angles--as from below so from above, as well as his sides. Anything and everything that could be conjured, was conjured--from balls of fire to spears of bones.
Cain was expending his Mana expressly--after all, even for him, being essentially a raid boss came at a great expense. In fact, in the two minutes that he’d been fighting, he already had to pop his first Mana Potion. After all, there was no way he was able to take more than a few spells head-on since he would die, so he had to dodge--a lot. This meant using either tiny omnidirectional movements or Blink, both of which cost more Mana the more he used them, which ate away at his massive reserves--slowly, but still surely.
Everything was moving fascinatingly quickly, with him dipping from the sky toward the ground to sweep away a few unsuspecting souls before retreating to the high ground once again.
Flashes of skills swallowed the world momentarily--he hastily conjured up several behemoths in the shape of transparent shields that took head-on over a hundred of skills, consuming nearly 15,000 Mana in one fell swoop. Cursing inwardly, he started drinking Mana Potions like water--but stealthily so. He wanted to completely win the mental battle which would likely mean that at least at a hundred would eventually end up running away rather than dying in the fight.
For the minor factions, as well as their leaders, it was do-or-die--but mostly die. It seemed as though the creature, as they’ve stopped considering him a man, had an inexhaustible pool of Mana, likely in hundreds of thousands. After all, the manner of skills and spells he was using and the number of times he shfited about using movement skills ought to have added up to immense Mana expenditure. Yet... it didn’t drink a single potion, nor did it even pause. Stop for just a moment to catch a breath.
It was an unrelenting, abusive, deadly onslaught that they weren’t expecting. At worst, they imagined they’d be facing a twice-Awakened ego-driven maniac. But... they were wrong. Not only were they uncertain just what the Awakened Class was--just that it was a Mage’s--they couldn’t even ascertain whether the thing was once, twice, or even thrice Awakened.
It blinked to the ground suddenly, shooting like a meteor and slamming into the ground. The world shook as hundred of jagged rocks erupted from below in a ring-like fashion, acting like desperate swords that pinned over twenty who were unable to dodge in time. Right after, a wave-like ring of fire followed, swallowing the world in its wake and turning it into ash.
Through the fire rode the phantom, faceless, featureless, emotionless--cold yet burning, akindled. He wove his arms like serpents coil the trees, summoning elements to his bidding. A spear appeared from the void, over twenty feet tall, aflame. He held it abreast for a moment before he swept round and round, sweeping the entire area of any life and lighting it on fire
Everywhere they looked, fire burned, chaos reigned, living wept, and death laughed. They weren’t facing a Conqueror like them, it didn’t seem, but one of those bosses that swallowed thousands before it was defeated. One of the Guardians who encapsulated a concept beyond the script.
It went to the sky once again, like a Dragon, breathing down the fire onto the heathens. Phantom shields emerged, thousands of them, as everyone realized they’d have to burn through all of their potions... or they would die. They no longer spared anything, terrified.
Men flew forward, using their bodies as shields so that the others can prepare deadlier attacks. Yet the fire burned. The figure adjoined the flames, becoming one with it. From within them, it created a whirl, one that consumed everything as it grew to the size of a behemoth. It spun like a tornado for a moment before exploding outwardly, shredding through all the living in its wake.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
The landscape was morphed into something unrecognizable--ashen beyond ashes, a picturesque depiction of hell itself where fires burned against all logic and reason. Just like here. After all, raw rock was burning. Dry ground was burning. The air itself was burning.
Cain popped several potions as he continued to conjure skills. Slamming his palms together and weaving them into two half circles, he primed them downward toward the ground for a moment before the latter shook and quaked violently. A breath later, thousands of chains shot up like spikes, coiling around nearly forty unsuspecting souls. Immediately commanding the chains that hit their target, Cain set them on fire as he screams and cries of anguish and agony composed the symphony of suffering.
He paused for a moment, realizing that the attacks... have stopped. Looking around, he could barely see a thing beyond the raging flames. Shit, I really need to get my hands on another element. I’m too reliant on Fire... was his conclusion after taking a deep breath.
Past some of the people who were still dying, those who were in a condition to run, they ran. They ran like the wind, not even looking back.
Parched, he took out some water from his inventory and headed out of the battlefield. He was currently sitting at a miserable 4000 Mana, something that hadn’t happened in quite some time. Though he still had around 20 Mana Potions, since there was no immediate threat, he decided to hold back on using them, letting the natural regeneration fill him back up.
Outside the fire that continued to burn, turning the day into the night, he saw Aldar--the man stood stoic, jaw seemingly unhinged. When he spotted Cain, he seemed to shudder for a moment before running over as though he were a teenage girl who just saw a minor celebrity and wanted a picture for her instagram.
“WOW!! THAT WAS AMAZING!!” the young man exclaimed excitedly, his countenance a complete contrast to the men who Cain fought. “WHAT CLASS ARE YOU ANYWAY??! I THOUGHT YOU WERE SOME BASIC MAGE CLASS BUT I’VE NEVER SEEN ANYONE USE THAT MANY UNIQUE SKILLS BEFORE!”
“Ha ha, amazing, wasn’t it?” Cain, slightly taken aback by the abundant praise, quickly resorted to his usual self. “That’s what they get for messing with me.”
“Amazing... really...” Aldar exclaimed. Though he’d seen many twice-Awakened and even a few thrice-Awakened fight... it was different. By now, he’d already concluded that Cain was, unmistakably, just a once-Awakened Conqueror. Yet he fought like someone on the cusps of being thrice-Awakened. He didn’t fight merely a few levels above him, but whole oceans, the gap that Aldar--as well as everyone on his world--believed was impossible to even approach, yet alone close.
Someone like Cain, at least as far as modern Conquerors, didn’t exist--Aldar was certain. He was a legend in the making, one of those figures that, eons from now, writs will be written about, myths that will seem so exaggerated that they appear unreal. ‘The legend of Cain, and his battle against hundreds!’ -- children will love them, adults will roll their eyes, but everyone will graciously nod and acknowledge that people have that potential, even if it is presented inside a fantasy.
“Okay, whatever you’re fucking doing,” Cain said. “Stop! You look like you’re popping a boner, and while I’m honored, I’d rather you don’t.”
“Ha ha,” Aldar weakly laughed, shaking his head. “You’re really... something else. No wonder you could so confidently stroll into a trap and fight your way out without any issues. Your goal must be the lands beyond the Ashens. I’ve a feeling... you’ll succeed.”
“Uh, well, thanks for the vote of confidence? That is all well and good, but we still have a job to do. Well, technically, many jobs. Now that our competition has been... thinned out, we’ll have a free reign so get to discovering new gates. Even pay other peeps with shit potions to tell on their friends and such. We gotta make a killing!” And I gotta get all the potions I wasted back! Cain wanted to cry. After all, if anyone from his previous life learned that he’d spent 40 Mana pots in a single battle... they’d likely publicly hang him. But not before first torturing him... heavily.
“R-right, yes! We’ll have complete freedom to choose, now. Alright, I’ll get right on it. You should rest for a couple of days first while I gather the information!” before even waiting for Cain’s answer, Aldar sped off, leaving Cain on his own.
The latter chuckled lightly before finding a nearby cliff and sitting himself on the top of it. He wasn’t against resting for a few days--as he had to recover his Mana. Though he was in a hurry, he still hadn’t forgotten something he swore to himself when he came back--that he’d never let the Tower consume him whole. And even though, technically, this wasn’t the Tower, the principle still held up.
He sat down, popped open a can of beer, and prepared to take a short nap. Just as he was about to close his eyes, his heart skipped a beat as he shot to his feet.
“WHO DARES HURT MY CONCUBINE?!! COME OUT AT ONCE!!” Oh, for the love of fuck--