When you’re fighting as a team, it’s important to designate one person as a leader. One.

Now, unless you’re a hive mind like a hive chin—or one of those inter-archive worms—most people need a single set of commands to follow, and that is need. Not want, not prefer, need.

Because when things get chaotic, and shit flies off the rails, you need to react instantly. You need to act instantly. You can’t sit around and wait for someone to decide on your behalf, because usually, that ends with you dead.

So, if you’ve got leadership quarrels, settle them. Settle them quickly.

II-65

Team Building (IV)

Agnesia improved substantially after defeating the Wyvern Knight. However, a slight improvement wasn’t enough to overcome the next adversary she faced. She entered what appeared to be a sunken valley trapped between two magma-veined mountains. She walked down a long, rock-laden path. Crystals jutted from the ground, lining the rock walls like blowing outcroppings. As she slowly ventured forth, the soft, trickling sound of a river flowed beside her.

At the lowest point of the valley, she found a single figure hovering in midair, seated cross-legged, as streams of magma trailed down from the flanking valleys and coalesced into a circulating pattern between his hands. The figure looked humanoid; however, his outer shell was composed of volcanic glass, with intricate patterns scrawled upon the surface of his body. His eyes burned like embers in the dark, and instead of just two arms, he sprouted six—three on each side. His legs, meanwhile, were like a bird’s talons, capable of ripping and snapping into lengths wide enough to encircle Agnesia’s torso.

Magma Alchemist: Lv. 165

Wei immediately got a terrible feeling as he laid eyes on this adversary, recognizing the bearing of a cultivator—someone who walked the martial path.

“Yeah, I don’t like this,” Vendrian said, lending his voice to Wei’s apprehension.

The young master nodded. “Let us wait and watch. She will need our counsel after this.”

As Agnesia approached, she ignited her Draconic Avatar and stared defiantly at the Magma Alchemist. “So,” she said, trying to keep her voice even, “I’m here. You going to start the fight now, or…?”

The Magma Alchemist raised his head, and slowly the patterns that lined his body shattered into fractals. These fragments drifted until they settled around the alchemist’s forearms, splashing materializing as armguards and crystalline gauntlets.

Suddenly, the alchemist began to burn bright. Veins formed and extended from a place on its chest, and its core began to thrum, glowing brilliantly like the heart of a fire awakened. It left his cross-legged position and placed its feet firmly on the ground as its Essence spiked.

Holding out a single arm to Agnesia, it said, “Come,” and waved several fingers tauntingly. The princess blinked momentarily, then had her avatar release a beam of dark gold fire at the alchemist.

The alchemist stomped forward, and the ground fractured as magma sprayed upwards in a geyser. Suddenly, Wei felt an impossible sense of control grip the searing fluid. The lava then shot forward with a job from the alchemist; it turned into a coruscating tide that splashed against Agnesia’s beam of flame. For a moment, her blast was contested. But for all the alchemist’s skill and power, he was not a Scion of Destruction—and his element was that of fire, and fire was Agnesia’s to enslave.

At once, her Essence overwhelmed the alchemists, but the six-armed fiend responded without shock.

He shifted back into a practiced stance—a frontal, balanced stance. He twisted, and immediately the ground beneath him opened wider. The alchemist danced upon the magma, sliding from place to place as the heat and flames accelerated him. A glass platform became a surfboard beneath him, gripped by his feet. He shifted to the right, his body a blur as her shot missed by the barest margins, and he twisted along the walls, sliding and accelerating as he came for her.

She noticed him at the last second and expanded her flames—a blast sending her in all directions. But suddenly, the alchemist’s patterns twisted along his arms; he made a series of gestures and, with a single step, vanished into her fire.

Agnesia blinked. “What? What just—?”

Suddenly, several gleaming spikes embedded in the valley wall shot out. They speared toward her, the first crashing against her Draconic Avatar and shattering uselessly upon her extreme constitution. Still, the impacts jolted her, sent her stumbling, and made her cry out. Then more crystals shot from the ground, spearing along the length of her thighs and legs, punching deeper and faster. As they struck the sides of her avatar, they detonated. The blasts were diminished, thanks to Agnesia’s dominance over destruction, but with her focus shattered, and her balance lost, she couldn’t master her Essence in time and took the full extent of these blows.

The shards knocked her off her feet, but her Draconic Avatar clawed out, reaching for the ground instead of manifesting her wings to stabilize her flight.

Wei winced at her every reaction. These were the instincts of an untrained amateur. A powerful, untrained amateur, but still.

Just then, the alchemist re-emerged. He strode out from the final embers of a crackling flame and narrowed his eyes at the display. That skill he had just used—this ability—must have been analogous to his essence shift. It allowed him to merge with fire, somehow, masking his essence beneath hers. It didn’t matter if she was superior or inferior; if she couldn’t sift through what she was unleashing, then her own attack would be used against her. Clever, devious—and now, it would exact punishment on Agnesia’s folly.

The girl was still midair when the alchemist leapt upward. He exploded off the ground, the obsidian glass platform lifting and accelerating him. He sent an uppercut right between her ribs, and, disoriented, she had no chance to counter. Her body folded inward. Her avatar let out an anguished cry, and suddenly, his face became a blur of fallen flame. Every blow struck like a meteorite hitting the land; massive explosions reverberated. She slammed into the side of the valley, and then more crystals greeted her—their spear points exploding as she slammed into them, throwing her back against the alchemist.

He caught her in a grapple, sealing both her arms and her head as he channeled flames from his legs. They accelerated downward, both of them protesting as he lowered her in the fashion of a suplex. Agnesia barely had any time to react before her head slammed into the ground, and another blast of fire erupted. This time, both she and the alchemist faded from view as a mushroom cloud rushed up along the walls of the valley.

Even through the deafening blast, the rapid noises of fists falling like raindrops—impacting like hammers upon wet flesh—could still be heard. Every blow made something break. Every strike sounded like the slap of a hammer on the corpse of a pig.

“Well,” Rafael said, “I think that maybe she might want to do the opposite with this one. You know, stay away. Not like with the rider.”

“Yeah,” Vendrian muttered, his voice flat and low. “Yeah, that’s probably right.”

There came a sickening snap as Agnesia was flung from the flange, twirling in the air like some kind of ragdoll. The girl’s body and limbs were twisted in strange directions—directions that human joints were not supposed to accommodate.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Then, suddenly, the alchemist rose, lashing upward with an open, taloned leg. Clawed digits closed around Agnesia’s head before she could react—and then twisted back. Her head folded well over 270 degrees and the princess’s body spasmed. Before she could fully dissolve, the alchemist twisted his body, and with a brutal tug, tore her head from her corpse before spinning back to a hovering meditation with her skull in between his clawed legs.

Seconds passed. Agnesia rematerialized outside the rift. Wei, Vendrian, and Rafael looked on, wordless and expressionless.

“Well, that was a horrifying fucking shitshow,” Vendrian muttered.

***

“Well, that was bloody horrifying,” Agnesia breathed. She’d just finished hyperventilating and screaming about how she’d lost her head when the trio arrived. Wei helped rub her back and tried to calm her down, while Vendrian simply stared through the portal, his expression a mix of curiosity and grimness.

“Yeah, I think I would have had to fight that one a little bit,” Vendrian said. “Okay, maybe more than a little bit. It was pretty good with its fists, a real Hound-fucked pugilist. Not sure if I would want to be fighting it head on. Looks like a problem.”

Wei was surprised by Vendrian’s admission—a warrior wasn’t usually comfortable admitting his own shortcomings. But a great warrior was usually at least of their own limitations.

Finally, Agnesia calmed herself enough to continue. “What did I do wrong that time?”

Wei looked to her, wanting to say, “Where do I begin?” but it didn’t seem like the right moment. Instead, he glanced toward Rafael, seeking a smoother interlocutor to deliver advice.

“Maybe don’t be too close to that one—fly and burn the entire valley. In fact, you might want to keep your distance altogether,” Rafael said , holding up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Altogether?” Agnesia repeated, “like fighting exactly the opposite way I did the rider.”

“Yes,” Wei carried the conversation forward. “You do not have the skill to fight this up close. They’re—not exactly the best unarmed combatants I’ve ever seen—but between their ability to fade into fire and their master grappling means you are but prey up close.”

“Right,” Agnesia said. She looked back at the portal and her hands tremored. “S-sorry. It’s just… I felt my head come off. That was… I didn’t think.”

“Take some time,” Vendrian said, his voice softer than his usual gruff tone. “Death does things to your mind. I’d know. Don’t go rushing back.”

“Indeed,” Wei agreed. “Also, I concur with Rafael. You do not want to fight it in the valley at all. If you can lure it above, or somehow reshape the environment, that would be to your advantage. It can control the magma and the crystalline spikes. So, you’re not only fighting the Magma Alchemist—you’re also fighting the terrain.” He shook his head. “That was one of the worst things about this matchup. You must consider the ground you fight on.”

“Right, take flight, burn the valley, try to lure it out,” Agnesia concluded. “Anything else?”

Wei paused, considering how he might approach the Magma Alchemist. “Frankly, if I were in your place, simply face them head-on. Fist-to-fist, even. It would be a worthwhile challenge—interesting, actually. They have a similar enough skill set. But you give yourself room. I have something you need to focus on mastering: Escape and evasion.”

“What?” Agnesia blinked.

“Yes. You need to make room for yourself. Evade. Avoid. And then re-engage. Do not simply trade and brawl. Use your power of the Concept of Destruction. Make your enemies run from you and…”

A thought came to Wei. Perhaps a demonstration would be best for her. “Wait here.” He stood and walked toward the rift.

“What are you doing, Wei?” Agnesia asked.

“I’m going to see if I can give you any better advice,” Wei replied. “But for that, I need some practical experience myself.”

“Hold on there,” Vendrian said, following him. He wrapped his fingers around Mourning, hovering just beside him. “I want to see about this fucker too.”

“Oh, good,” Mourning muttered. “Please forgive my brother, he is ever desperate to be included in all things.”

Death’s Bastard just snorted.

“Maybe me three,” Rafael added.

Just then, the Tower of Possibility declared, “Warning: None of you are capable of class specialization evolutions. Enter anyway? This will not count as a successful challenge.” Wei, Rafael, and Vendrian exchanged glances.

“Fine,” Wei said. “Let’s all see what we can figure out from this adversary.” He turned back to Agnesia. “You go down and watch, see what you might be able to learn.”

Agnesia stared at them, her jaw slack as she muttered, “All right, I’ll just… just catch my breath.”

“Yes,” Wei said firmly. “Recover.” He turned his gaze forward. “Me, Rafael, and this bitch will see what we can learn from your foe.”

“Wei,” Vendrian said.

“Yes, this bitch?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

***

Way, Rafael, and Vendrian stood before the mouth of the descending valley. A soft coldness radiated from the mourner as she let out a long sigh.

“Is this truly necessary?” she asked.

“Yes,” Wei said. “I’m curious as to how my companions think they might overcome such an adversary.”

“Same here,” Vendrian added. “But if I’m to guess, you’re just going to dance with it.”

“Dance,” Way replied, raising an eyebrow and trying not to reveal his offense. He didn’t dance with people—he dueled them. He maneuvered them and struck them down when they were at their strongest. It wasn’t some frilly-footed bard.

“Yeah, dance,” Vendrian concluded. He promptly started bouncing back and forth on his two legs while holding his arms out in an exaggerated manner. “You dance and fly about, you taunt and you mock,” the Scion of Death chuckled. “You’re like a fairy knight from the children’s stories. You’re about as tall as one too.”

“And what of you,” Wei said, his eyes narrowing, “you swing and you yell and you lose control of yourself while half the time your father’s doing the fighting in your stead.”

At once, the mirth drained from Vendrian’s face and he leaned down. “First off, fuck you—”

“Brother,” Mourning said, her voice cutting through the argument. “I’m tired of this childishness. If we are to do this, if we are to give Lady Agnesia any useful advice, it will not be on the back of two boys jousting with their genitals.”

Both Wei and Vendrian looked at the sword.

“We’re not jousting with… you… you… This is unbefitting vulgarity,” Wei finished. And just like that, the tension between them was shattered. “You have interrupted essential banter.”

“I have spared us the misery of listening to two overgrown children trade insults. It is even likely you two might end up brawling each other before ever reaching the alchemist.”

Wei and Vendrian looked at each other and both did their best to keep their pride.

The damnable sword really wasn’t wrong.

“So,” Rafael said, slipping into the conversation, “I was thinking perhaps I could use a skill or a cipher to hide our presences. If this could work, and if I could give Lady Agnesia such a boon, maybe that might make her attempt also more fortunate next time.”

Both the Scion of Death and the young master considered the lich again.

“Cowardly,” Wei said.

“But effective,” Vendrian surmised.

“It might cripple her future development,” Wei said, worried about giving her an easy way out. “She needs skill. She needs experience. To have everything made easy for her, we’ll only see her made less capable—and weaker in the future. For future tasks.”

With that said, Vendrian’s mind turned to the Collectress—and the fate of his remaining family. “Yeah. Yeah.”

They ventured down the valley. Vendrian swept the walls, glaring at the crystals, while the Young Master simply marched ahead. A few moments later, they found the Magma Alchemist. The foe was cross-legged, waiting for them, as he had for Agnesia earlier. Wei sensed the Essence flowing out from him—a thing of fire, of volcanic rock, and of the burning crystals that lined these valley walls. More than that, however, there was something else, something refined in the way it wielded his Essence. The alchemist reminded him of a cultivator—more and more, someone with deep finesse and focus.

And the Magma Alchemist responded in kind. As he lifted his head, it noticed Wei as well, sensed something of a kindred spirit in him, and immediately he rose, breaking from its cross-legged posture and facing him. For a few seconds, neither reacted. Both simply observed each other.

Then the peace was broken as Vendrian charged forth, bringing his massive blade to bear. With a loud roar, he let out a vicious slash, and a beam of purest cold spliced through the air, freezing the surrounding crystals as well. The Magma Alchemist, so entranced by Wei, barely dodged in time. The ground before him exploded with magma spraying in all directions. However, fluid heat greeted the deathly cold, and a clash formed—obsidian spread in a moat between the alchemist and the Scion of Death.111

“A little warning next time!” Wei cried out.

“Sorry,” Vendrian grinned. The form of the Hound began to solidify around his body. “This bitch gets hard of hearing sometimes.”