As Orelio chased Lleig outside the manor he began to notice a problem. He hadn't noticed in his brief deathmatch with the man who'd ambushed him due to the flood of adrenaline in his system, but his muscles ached. It was only natural, he'd spent nearly the entire day working out to keep boredom away.
Still, he had no choice but to bury the burning in his muscles and press on. Even as Lleig turned back to him and Orelio once again pressed him in a contest of blades, he knew if they didn't do something fast to deal with the rogue element it was only a matter of time before someone got an arrow through the skull.
His thoughts on Lleig's 'Sense' were more or less aligned with Albatos', and that assumption was even more reinforced by seeing the slight sheen of perspiration on the man's scarred face as they fought. To Orelio it seemed unthinkable that the man would stage this attack when he wasn't physically ready for it, which meant that Orelio's feeling of fatigue was being transferred to him.
Orelio couldn't help but feel a hint of nostalgia at the illusory environment around them. It took him back to when his father took him hunting as a boy, simply to keep food on the table. His father had taught him the rules of the hunt, how to move among nature to avoid detection. One needed to be patient when hunting, for any tell could give away position or the moment a strike would come.
Until now he'd never thought about it in reverse terms, that the prey also needed to be patient if they were to turn the tables and become the predator.
Orelio knew Stein was the primary target. It was the opponent's win condition on this board, after all. However, unlike a board game, each piece had a mind of its own in a fight. Every piece a player, each reacting to different moves in different ways. And beneath the objective was always a secondary, yet far more important, goal.
He took a step away and broke off his engagement with Lleig as he felt the moment was right. If he mistimed it he'd lose, but Vanderburst was right. Hesitation led to blunders, and such a mistake would cost much more here than on the board.
"Domain Expansion, Double Up."
In his battle with the Bloodletter he'd learned that a sorcerer needed to be cautious of old allies. Knowing the conditions and effects of a projection gave a massive advantage over adversaries, and in the world of mercenaries that meant that simply being allied with another could give tomorrow's enemy a weapon to use against yourself.
Lleig had been in that same group, which meant he'd have had access to the same information the Bloodletter did. Orelio's old projection's activation condition was to assume a certain stance, but Orelio was no longer limited to using a self-projection. He took up that position as he expanded his domain, knowing the opponent would make the connection between that stance and the activation of a projection. Therein contained the deception.
According to Albatos, it was possible to employ both a projection on oneself and a domain simultaneously. Doing so usually required months of practice with multicasting and domain usage. Orelio still remembered the expression of a man who'd lost all perception of common sense when Orelio was not only able to employ both types of projection simultaneously, but could do so while still struggling with the basic principle of standard multicasting.
Orelio felt the blood drip down his left hand along the edge of the unfamiliar blade as he activated both his domain projection and self-projection simultaneously. If Orelio was being honest he'd have to admit that opening a domain, forcing it upon the world around oneself came with a certain sense of exhilaration. There was something so satisfying about forcing the world to match your rules, obey your laws.
Orelio forced that feeling down and sharpened his mind. This was the pivotal moment. If anything broke his focus he knew he would die. He turned his head with enough force that he knew his muscles would ache later, but it didn't matter.
With the time between the last shot from the archer and the positions of players on the field, Orelio determined that there was only one area the archer could have comfortably moved to and taken position. If one stood at the gate to the property they'd see Orelio and Lleig fighting about 20 paces directly outside the entrance and Stein, Albatos, and the dwarf battling off to the right near the hole in the wall Stein created.
If the archer had the time to take an ideal position they'd have to have exited the manor, circled left around Orelio and Lleig, and taken position somewhere in the vast expanse of Andora's property or taken the time to climb to the roof for a height advantage. But battle wasn't a leisurely exercise. Everything could change in a second, and the sooner you acted the better. The place with the shortest travel distance that allowed for a shot on all related parties was to the left of the entrance, spaced slightly away from the wall of the manor.
Now, come.
Those who lived by the blade knew there was nothing more terrifying than an unknown piece of sorcery. Domain projections in particular posed an extreme threat, and mishandling unknown conditions could result in a death you had no control over. The simplest way to handle an unknown projection was simply to kill the caster as fast as possible.
The enemy's objective was Stein, but rare was the soldier that'd be truly brave enough to court death simply to follow the orders of a superior. And a mercenary? The ultimate objective in life was to live to see another day. There was no merc in existence that'd willingly walk into the jaws of a tiger just for a bit of coin.
Even knowing it was coming, Orelio barely saw the fleeting shadow as the bolt moved through the swaying grass, barely managed to force his blade to move into place as his muscles screamed at him and the air itself resisted his motion. Iron point bounced off steel blade, and the arrow sailed off into the grass, harmless.
Orelio looked beyond the grass, where the arrow had come from, and saw a pair of eyes. In the brief moment their gazes connected he saw confidence give way to shock, then fear. And she knew the positions of hunter and hunted had changed. And then she was gone.
I need to deal with her, but I can't with this damn grass giving her all the cover she could possibly ask for.
He had a feeling he knew where she'd next appear as well, but until he could actually find her amidst the foliage their game of cat and mouse would continue forever. He turned to look at Stein, saw the dwarf and the rugged pack across his back, and got a flash of inspiration. He didn't bother even looking at Lleig as he dashed toward the other pair, knowing the scarred man would miss when he attempted to attack.
The dwarf and Stein both saw Orelio coming. Stein stepped back while the dwarf took a defensive stance. They had agreed in advance that if Orelio marked a target that target was to be left to him while his domain was in use. Orelio thrived in the high-speed environment, and anyone not as accustomed to it only served to get in his way.
The dwarf managed to block Orelio's first fierce blow, throwing up his halberd in defense. Orelio didn't bother trying to do fancy footwork or slip past the dwarf's guard, he just battered the shaft of the halberd, sending shards of wood flying. Finally, after six strikes the wooden handle, even reinforced, could not bear the momentum of Orelio's slashes and broke.
The dwarf took a step backward, trying to gain distance as Orelio slashed again. The movement saved his life, as Orelio's blade cut horizontally across the dwarf's chest below the heartstone, barely grazing the ribs. The dwarf tumbled backward, losing his pack. He frantically looked up from the ground, expecting the next attack to be the one to end his life.
But Orelio didn't care about the dwarf at all in truth. Orelio sensed Stein was more than enough to handle the merc, and under ordinary circumstances he would have left the dwarf entirely to Stein. No, what Orelio was truly interested in was the dwarf's pack.
Mercs, like adventurers, liked to travel with everything they needed. Even those in the employ of another still liked to maintain that self-sufficiency in case they were ever cut loose.
So Orelio had a rough idea of what to expect within the pack. He rummaged through it for several seconds, simply tossing out anything that wasn't what he sought.
Finally, he found what he was looking for. It was a rugged gray brick, with rough gouges along the surface where it'd seen countless uses.
Grimacing, he crouched down amid the dry underbrush and bashed the metal pommel of his sword against the weathered surface as he pushed the starter against the ground with his broken hand. Three strikes, three showers of sparks was all it took for the brush underneath him to be set ablaze.
Orelio didn't understand the mechanics behind Inner World that well. His own was a chaotic mess, a jumble of different times and moments from his life. There was no singular moment that defined him, nothing concrete to give shape. Albatos had called it a world so unstable it wouldn't even need to clash against another to come undone, given maybe half an hour it would unravel itself.
What had stuck with him was that the Worlds that were the strongest were the ones rooted in a core idea, and the act of casting that Inner World was an attempt to bring that mental image and reality's truth into harmony. Albatos had said that rare were the Worlds with an idea strong enough to completely dominate the laws of existence, most had to reconcile and reciprocate the foundational principles of existence. Orelio had absolutely no idea what that meant.
After forcing the elf to simplify his explanation to an almost absurd extent, he finally understood one thing. Inner Worlds that functioned the strongest were ones that depicted their contents as realistically as they could.
Orelio wagered that the prairie grass that covered almost the entire property would react to a natural stimulus, like setting it on fire. But he didn't truly understand just how drastic the effect would be.
Ordinarily, setting fire to a patch of grass in the humid environment of a temperate jungle would work, albeit not at an astonishing rate. Higher humidity results in both a more damp burn as well as less oxygen to sustain that burn.
However, the state Voset was currently in was far from ordinary. The smoke and heat from the lower levels was pushing upward, creating unnatural air currents that resulted in very low humidity throughout the center of the city. If the archer's Inner World had been cast on a region with higher water density it would have been green and lush to mimic the surrounding environment. But since the administrative district in the city had very little water density, due to both low humidity and all the city's available water being routed to fight the fires, the grass was formed dead and desiccated.
The resulting flash fire temporarily blinded Orelio as its brief but highly combustive fuel burned to ashes in no more than a second. Instead of acting like grass, the stuff acted like dried pine needles, burning up in an instant and spreading the fire in a quickly expanding ring, leaving a black and barren circle of ash.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
The flame itself did little more than sting, not lasting long enough or burning hot enough to create any lasting burns on the skin.
Orelio quickly got back to his feet, intending to find and eliminate the archer before they were ready to take another shot. However, his heart dropped when he saw Albatos, distracted by the fire, about to be cut down.
Six.
Even as Lleig's blade drew blood Orelio was moving, fighting to keep a foothold strong enough in the ash covered ground to properly propel himself forward. He had always found that footing, along with maintaining control, was the biggest issue when his projection allowed him to reach truly incredible speeds. And those speeds came astonishingly fast when he combined his domain with his usual projection.
If Orelio was educated he likely would have realized that both of his projections affected each other multiplicatively, not additively. If his original projection could be seen as adding a 5% boost to his speed every time he successfully executed an attack, after the six attacks he'd landed against the dwarf his speed should be 130% of normal. However, the doubling of speed also doubled the increment at which Orelio gained speed. So instead of a 5% increase per hit, under the effects of both projections the gain was a 10% increase. Add them together and Orelio currently went 2.6 times faster than usual.
The obvious benefit to this was that Orelio became incredibly fast almost instantly, but it was also detrimental because he exceeded his max controllable speed that much faster. Once the body goes that fast several things become clear. First, the humanoid body isn't meant to go two to three times faster than it normally does. It causes strain on both the muscles and the nerves as the brain desperately tries to control a wild machine. Second, traction became a serious issue.
Orelio's muscles went from aching to screaming. His eyes were pushed back into his head as the wind pressure from simply moving pushed against his entire body.
He dashed through the ring of fire and brought his sword down even as he threw his legs out in front of him to brace against the ground. He felt his blade rip through the flesh of the man's arm as he came to a sudden jolting halt, his feet creating small craters where they dug into the soil.
He saw Albatos preparing to distance himself, thankfully not fatally wounded, and discarded Lleig from his mind. As much as he'd like to kill the man now, every spare moment was another the archer could choose to fire. The woman had escaped his predatory gaze last time, he would make sure she would not again.
Seven.
He twisted his body and launched himself off the ground even as he heard, "Sync!" He felt the blazing ring of pain on his left arm where Lleig's had been amputated, felt the stabbing pain and searing sensation down his face where Albatos had been injured. None of it would stop him.
The grass that covered the battlefield also covered the roof. Interestingly, the flash fire that spread across the ground below transferred up more than two stories to the grass upon the roof. He guessed all surfaces within the domain were considered to be a singular field, or the reality was starting to shift enough from the original World enough that it was creating flaws in the illusion.
He bet that the latter was more likely, as the grassland upon the roof was also slightly phasing in and out of existence. His eyes locked with his prey, crouching among the fading foliage as the ring of flames rapidly approached.
Knew she'd pick here. In a meager last ditch effort to regain supremacy any hunter worth their salt will always take the high ground.
As his feet touched down on the slate tiles he launched himself forward. The archer released a half drawn arrow toward him, but he batted it aside like it was nothing. It was almost like batting aside a toy Compared to the ready, composed shot she had taken before.
One blow, no wasted motion. Can't give the pain freak any more ammunition to use against us!
Orelio saw her hands drop the bow, felt one of the domains collapse, understood the intention to surrender in the woman's eyes. But it was too late. In a singular slice at almost triple his normal speed, Orelio's blade decapitated the archer.
How unfortunate. If she had simply done that earlier I would have spared her.
Orelio had aimed for the fastest possible death, figuring that an instant death wouldn't reflect any pain back on him or Stein, but he was mistaken. An explosion of agony so complete that it left him paralyzed erupted from his neck. His limp body, still under the weight of the momentum he'd used to kill the archer, was sent sprawling across the rooftop
He struggled to remain conscious as he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. That extreme sensation hadn't lasted more than a moment, but it left him shaking.
Just how much of that was Stein forced to endure when he faced this man before?
Orelio hadn't understood, couldn't possibly have understood, what had left Stein so completely powerless before Lleig when they'd faced before.
How could he have endured such agony over and over again and not had his mind completely broken?
Orelio cast his gaze to the side, off the roof, and his breath caught in his throat. Stein had been reduced to a similar state as himself, but Lleig was charging towards that signature white hair. From what Orelio could see, Stein didn't have any idea of the threat bearing down upon him.
That sadistic son of a bitch probably isn't affected by the sensation of death like we are, he's too damn used to it. Have to move, have to get there first. One more move, then it's game over! Come on, eight, fuck!
With every ounce of willpower Orelio had he forced himself to take that first step forward. If he'd been thinking clearly he would have realized he could collapse his own domain to slow Lleig down, giving Stein more time to react. However, his mind was a jumbled mess, pain and adrenaline creating a chaotic headspace in which he could only act on impulse and instinct.
As he pushed his leg forward, aiming to step off the ledge and directly engage Lleig, he shouted out, "Stein!"
However, it was at that moment that his body, his tired and sore body from a day of relentless exercise, chose to rebel against him. He felt the muscles in his leg spasm and torque against themselves, creating the most intense cramp he'd ever experienced.
His leg, completely immobilized, slapped dully and uselessly against the slate tile at the edge of the roof. Without anything to halt his momentum, he flew off the edge, into open space.
***
As Orelio dashes away in the blink of an eye I step up and level my sword at the dwarf lying sprawled on the ground. The small inferno Orelio started quickly blows past us, expanding its ring of death. The dwarf tosses aside both broken pieces of his halberd and raises the flats of his palms to me, a universal gesture of surrender.
I breathe an ashen sigh of relief. Unlike Lleig, not everyone working with him was a fanatic, and even those who follow Reverie likely aren't as far gone past the limits of sanity as he is.
Just as I think that, I hear, "Sync!" and a wave of new sensations fill me. None of it is enough to overpower me, not even combined. But still, something inside me balks at the sickening sensation of having my being defiled once again. My mind momentarily locks up even as I fight back the nausea, the feeling of dread and hopelessness.
I see the burning field of grass around me vanish an instant before that all-consuming agony tears open the mental wound I've been desperately trying to hold closed. Collapsing to my hands and knees, bile forces its way out of my stomach and onto the charred lawn. I take shallow, ragged breaths as I try desperately to compose myself.
I'm fine. I'm not injured, this isn't the same. It isn't the same. It isn't.
"Stein!" I hear my name called out, snapping me back to reality. I turn, look behind, and see the shadow of death bearing down upon me with that curved sword in hand. I try to react, try to do something, but my body won't listen.
Then another pain forces its way into my consciousness. My leg locks up from the intense burst of muscle contractions, leaving me unable to flee even if I could get my body to move. I barely see the shadow of a figure hurtle down from the roof before landing in the yard with a thud and another flash of pain.
I brace for that awful manifestation of suffering to pounce upon me and end my life, but I realize with a start that Lleig is also on the ground struggling to force his body to move.
Oh, I see. He's completely desensitized to the feeling of inflicted pain. He eats it up and continues on, unphased. But this isn't just the feeling of pain, it's the brain receiving the signal that the muscles in the leg are out of control and it forcibly strips the consciousness of the ability to move it freely.
This realization does something to snap me out of the dark pit Lleig's projection had cast my mind into, and I realize I'm in the perfect position.
That's right, one more push and it's over.
I reach behind myself with smooth, practiced motions and pull out the flintlock pistol I concealed under my belt. I pull it forward, aim center mass and pull the trigger. The shot rings out over the lawn and I feel a stabbing pain in my abdomen.
Lleig looks down, sees the blood spurting from his torso, and grimaces. I feel that horrible domain collapse, ridding both of us of the paralyzing cramp. I grab my sword, thinking he's about to try to charge me again, one last hurrah for the fanatic, but instead he puts a hand to the bleeding hole in his stomach and runs away.
I hurry over to Orelio, who's clutching at his leg and writhing on the ground. He barely manages to squeeze out, "Vanderburst, room I was in…"
Understanding the intent, I dash over to the room Orelio had been working out in and find the unconscious tink, a bloody hole in his nice tunic but no wound underneath. I examine him more thoroughly, looking for some other injury before realizing he would have been within range of that awful domain. Most likely the shock of the moment of death was simply too much for him to handle.
I shake him as I call out his name. After a few seconds, he comes to before immediately leaning over to the side and throwing up.
Yeah, I know how you feel.
"What happened," he asks, trying to clear the bile out of his mouth. Before I can respond an urgency takes over him and he grabs my tunic and drags himself close, "Is the noble mistress okay!?"
"Not sure, but probably. She went off with her sister, I'm not sure where though. I understand you're probably concerned for her safety, but we need your healing magic."
His face turns into a conflicted mixture of emotions before he nods. I help him up and lead him back to where I left Orelio, whose cramp has finally receded and is taking deep relieved breaths. I leave the tink with him and dash over to where I can see Alabtos' motionless body.
I breathe a sigh of relief seeing that he's still taking shallow breaths. The arrow in his chest looks to have come dangerously close to his lungs. If it had been a few centimeters up the elf likely would have parted already.
Vanderburst joins me at Albatos' side quicker than I thought he would. I shoot him a questioning glance.
"He'll be fine," Vanderburst says, waving a hand in Orelio's direction, "A broken leg and a broken hand are the worst of it for him. This one is much more serious." He rips the arrow out and immediately places his hands on both entry and exit wound, a golden glow suffusing both his hands and Albatos' chest, "Hey, tip his head to the side and open his mouth. We don't want him choking to death on his own blood."
I do as the tink instructs then hurry back to Orelio, "I've gotta go after him," I say.
"What, didn't manage to hit his vitals? Some crack shot you turned out to be…" Orelio trails off as another wave of pain or maybe another cramp comes from his leg.
"I saw black blood, so he's a lot worse off than we are."
"Yeah, as in he'll die in an hour or two. Let it go."
Black blood was usually a sign of a liver wound, which in this time period would ordinarily be fatal. However, "If that bastard manages to find a healing mage that's still somewhere in the city he'll just keep coming after us. Not sure about you, but I don't ever want to experience fighting that man again."
Orelio thought for a moment before he nods and waves me away. Before I dash out the gate after Lleig I take out the small reloading kit that's been stuffed in my pocket. It's a mere three extra shots, but it's better than nothing. I stop in front of the dwarf as I start reloading, who is slowly putting items back into his pack. "I'm curious, why didn't you use a projection during that?"
The dwarf scoffs, "You sorcerers are always so full of yourselves. Let me tell you, boy, sorcerers ain't exactly a dime a dozen. Fewer still are the ones with low enough self-esteem they'd have agreed to work with that bastard."
"Why'd you agree to work with him, knowing he was a piece of shit?"
"Damn city has drained me dry. Wanted to leave with something instead of nothing. Guess this is what my greed gets me." Without another word or look my way the dwarf finishes placing objects within the pack and walks off, carrying it by one of the broken straps.
I refocus myself and readjust the grip on my blade as I start running, an image of my target clear in my mind.
It's taken far longer than I thought it would, but I'll finally get to fulfill that promise I made you, Morvin. I'm gonna go butcher that fucker right now.