16.

[Air Current] was his weakest, but most versatile skill. He finally wormed his way around the hunter’s defenses, finding a pin gap where the thick magic lacked the strength to repel his power. Santi was forced to dodge the curved edge of a scythe as he focused his strength, pouring mana into his skill as he contested the higher ranking singer.

He won.

There was a sudden silence as the lute cracked audibly, the power Santi had funneled at the satyr’s magic shattering the focal point of the casting. The singer bleated in surprise and pain, backing up quickly and beginning to hum loudly almost instantly. The magic had unraveled the moment silence had fallen and Santi hadn’t waited a moment to start the end game of the fight.

[Gust] swept his own opponent back, throwing the heavy satyr off its hooves and toward the singer. The singer’s tune was quickly broken as it leapt over its defender’s body. Santi lunged toward Chloe’s opponent, morph changing into a lance as he stabbed at the goats lower back. The satyr spun with a quickness that shocked him, the scythe knocking aside the lance’s point.

Chloe’s axe bit into where the shoulder meets the neck in a spray of blood. The satyr screamed in agony as she ripped and tore the wicked axe head out. Santi felt the warm blood spray across his face. He licked at his lips even as he finished the wounded creature, stabbing it through its chest.

The ding of the kill notification was a distant sound as he spun around to face the second hunter. It had gotten back to its feet in the second or so it had taken for Chloe and Santi to kill its companion. It’s bestial features were controted with rage as the hand held scythe split the air all around him. Each of the blows rang out, his arm growing numb from the heavy blows.

Chloe came to the side, her axe aimed at a knee. Blood was running from her arm where the other hunter had stripped a piece of flesh free. The satyr spun, targeted leg straight out in a vicious kick that caught her in the stomach. Santi lengthened the blade and slid it along the monster’s forearm, splitting flesh like paper. It screamed and caught its balance, blade arm going limp as Santi snapped his wrist upward. Blood geysered out as the satyr’s head fell free from its body.

The singer was running, trying to escape with what little time its two protectors had given it. [Air Shield] cut off its retreat while Santi raced toward it. He wasn’t going to let his prey escape, not now while it was on its last legs. The satyr bounced off the shield and spun, a long wooden dagger being produced from somewhere. Santi lifted the morph as it transformed into an executioner's axe and reared back.

The singer stabbed itself in the throat. Santi froze, puzzlement and alarm breaking the hold the curse had on him. He watched as the monster's blood flowed like a river down its throat, matting the beast's hair as it plummeted toward the earth. Its black eyes met his own for a moment and triumph shone through them even as it slowly fell to the ground.

“Santi, what the fuck was that?” Chloe asked as she jogged over to him, both of them staring down at the dead satyr.

“No idea, but probably nothing good.” Santi cocked his head and then reached down to pry the wooden dagger free of the satyr’s neck. The dark wood was drenched in blood but the moment he pulled it free the blood absorbed into the dagger like it had never been there.

Sacrificial Dagger

Used in magical rituals, the dagger can aid in the transition of life to magic

“Have I ever told you how much I detest these descriptions?” Santi asked Chloe.

“Nope. That description is only kinda useful. I guess it used itself to do some type of magic?”

“Sacrificed itself to do something.”

“But what?” Chloe pondered as she looted the two dead hunters. The scythe daggers they had been using were sturdy Acolyte grade weapons and those were rare enough nobody would be leaving them to waste.

“Nothing good. Satyr’s magic is normally nature based or music magic. Who the fuck knows what’s coming. Let’s get back to the camp and try to get them ready.”

“If this is going to be the threat level for everything coming for us, they won’t be helpful at all.”

“These were just the fastest who weren’t in the immediate vicinity. This could be the peak of them.”

“Yeah. Not with our luck. Santi, I don’t think I could have handled one of those hunters by myself. They were too fast and strong. I could take the hits, but I couldn’t land any of my own without your help.”

“It’s a good thing I’m here then. We keep working together and we’ll be fine. We just have to hold out till the rest of the team gets here and then we’ll be good.”

“It is a good thing you’re here. I still need to get stronger though. I can’t be relying on you to carry me in these sorts of fights.”

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“More training with Grimvr then. And levels. That’s all we can do. Put in the effort and reap the rewards.”

“Did you just use the word reap because they had scythes?”

“Yes?” Santi smiled at her, breaking the tension as she rolled her eyes. He still saw the tick at the corner of her mouth as she fought back her own smile. They broke away from the still bodies of the dead satyrs and headed up the overpass and back toward the town.

They got to the top and looked down upon chaos. The hundred, if not thousands, of small trees and plants had come alive. Chlorophyll green spirits slashed and attacked as the survivors tried to hold themselves up. Frank was barking orders as his sword, a strip mall looking katana, wreathed in orange flames cut a bush in half. The spirit surrounding the bush screamed into the air and evaporated leaving only the burning bush behind.

“That didn’t take long. They look weak though.”

“They’re small. Look for anything bigger, mature trees or those tall ass privacy shrubs.” Santi was scanning the small downtown region even for any threat as he looked down at the monsters.

Neophyte Dryad lvl. 17

(Enraged)

“Enraged? I haven’t seen that.”

“That singer kinda fucked us over. Look there’s a palm tree,” Santi said, nudging Chloe as they watched the long tree walk forward, fronds swaying. The ephemeral shape of the dryad was more formed around it. It had a fully formed body with emerald tresses that swayed in rhythm with the fronds.

Juvenile Dryad lvl. 43

(Enraged)

“You can handle that one yourself?” Santi asked.

“Yeah, I can handle it. Why aren’t you interested in it?”

“Look that way,” Santi said, pointing out what he’d spied sneaking closer.

“Shit. Guess they weren’t alone. Can you hold them till I finish the tree off?”

“Got to do it. Finish it quickly and you can come and save me.”

“I get to play the hero? Well can’t let you down then. Get cracking,” Chloe shoved him with a shoulder and flashed a smile that had hints of concern in it. She raced down toward the melee, trying to interdict the palm tree dryad before it reached the group of fighters.

Santi followed after her, peeling off to the side towards the trio of satyrs sneaking their way toward the pillar. They couldn’t take it from him by touching it, they needed to kill him or force him to leave the area around it to claim it for themselves. Once it was confirmed his, then the only way they’d get it was by prying it from his cold dead fingers.

The three monsters didn’t know that. They were getting close to the pillar using the distraction caused by the original singer's sacrifice. Santi was racing down toward them without a thought, his blood already humming in anticipation again. The curse was rather insidious, Santi could understand how the others had been lost in the curse.

Satyr Hunter lvl. 50

Satyr Hunter lvl. 52

Satyr Singer lvl. 54

Weaker than the previous squad of satyrs, but he was alone this time. It would be a challenge, all three of them higher than him, but he had plenty of advantages of his own. He sped up, muscles bunching tight to explode thunderously as he shot towards them. The two hunters looked up in time to meet him, their flashing blades rising up to attempt disemboweling strikes.

He swept aside both of them like they were nothing before him, his blade smacking both of the daggers to the side as he landed in a crouch right between the satyr hunters. The singer was lifting its lute to its lips, ready to start playing as Santi cast [Crosscurrent-Orb] right at his feet. [Air Shield] and [Air Manipulation] tamed the wind around him as the two hunters were lifted from their hooves and tossed away like leaves. The singer met his gaze with wild, fear filled eyes. Santi struck once, morph blade drinking deeply from the rich blood of the powerful monster.

Santi watched as the life faded from its wide eyes, letting it slump to the ground as the two hunters began to work their way back to him. Without their protections though, they were vulnerable. [Gust] picked the one on the right up and threw it through the remnants of a wall of a former fast food restaurant. He turned to the left one and stood there, waiting as the satyr charged him.

It swung horizontally, razor sharp tip aiming for his throat. He stepped back and let the scythe pass him. He stepped back toward the monster in the open space left by the wide attack. A gauntlet formed over his hand and he slammed it into the satyr’s gut. Spikes erupted from the gauntlet and blood coated his arm as Santi kept his eyes locked with the hunters.

He saw as the rage was replaced with fear. With uncertainty and then acceptance. The satyr headbutted at him, [Air Shield] cast inches from his own face to stop those wicked horns from hitting his vulnerable nose. He jerked his arm upward, spikes tearing flesh away as he ripped and tore.

He used his free hand to toss the dying satyr to the ground and spun around as he felt as the other hunter entered his range. Santi caught the descending blow and tossed it to the side with a twist of his hips and wrenching his arm. The tip of the scythe dagger cut into the asphalt with ease. Santi stomped down on the fragile ankle joint and felt a jolt of joy when he heard bone break.

The hunter didn’t make a sound as it tried to headbutt him. Santi grabbed its horns and jerked it toward him, making it walk on the broken ankle. It finally screamed as the leg buckled and it fell to a knee. The horns were rough in his palms as Santi jerked its head viciously to the side. The gratifying crack of bone was highlighted by a ding of a kill notification as he let the limp hunter fall to the ground.

Bloodlust Upgraded

Infection of Bloodlust

(Minor)

Strength becomes you. Blood fuels you.

“Fuck,” Santi hissed staring at the alert. He looked down at himself and saw himself. From neck to shoes he was coated in satyr blood. Thick and tacky with the heady iron scent surrounding him. Every twitch of his body alerted him to the strength running through his muscles, the heady feeling of power that suffused him.

“Close to ten percent. Maybe a bit more, maybe twelve,” Santi muttered aloud, trying to put a number to the curse's power increase. It was hefty, that was sure. Strong as the coat he had earned. Enough to let him snap a monster's neck with ease. He was strong for a mage but he wasn’t that strong. He could have gotten it, but not that easy.

He looked over to the gurgling hunter still holding on to life. The dryads were still rampaging around him, all avoiding him. Chloe’s axe was flashing, bursts of light as she used skills to prune the tree monster. He looked down at the dying satyr and finished it with a thought.

“It’s going to be a long fucking day,” Santi said with a sigh.