Dalric furrowed his brows.

Twelve?

Seventh spoke of a human stronger than him, but Dalric had yet to sense anyone with the ahjer to qualify. He still didn’t. While ahjer quality wasn’t a precise measure of a being’s strength, after a certain tier it told practically nothing, for lower tiered ahjerists it spoke of the maximum power and complexity of their spells. One could not alter reality beyond what their ahjer could affect. The man at the end of the hall was not a low tiered ahjerist.

He wore thick, enchanted leather armor, layered with square patches of metal plating. It was predominantly and ferociously red, but the leather underneath was dyed dark blue. The accompanying red helmet completely covered his head while also featuring a white, enchanted mask. It would be quite beautiful overall if not for the horrendous looking face on the mask.

The range of Dalric's sense was still expanded so though the man stood further than fifteen fathoms away, he still got a gauge of him. While it seemed that he could penetrate the armor, what he was sensing did not align with the spells being cast. Manifesting a dozen attuned blades should be far beyond his abilities.

Dalric quickly surmised he was being duped. Instead of merely blocking his sense out, the armor was feeding him a false reading.

His eyebrows went from furrowed to raised. That was a highly advanced enchantment. More than that, it meant he didn’t just have an awareness of ranged ahjer sense, but interacted with it frequently enough to need a counter. That spoke to a high combat level.

If Dalric hadn’t connected to Thundefield, fighting him could be risky. As things currently stand however, it wouldn’t be much of a fight at all. Instead, it was a convenient opportunity.

He smirked and spread his arms wide, "Then come.”

The multicolored conjurer obliged, rushing forward as he sent all twelve blades hurling at Dalric. For his part, Dalric merely strolled towards them, arms still spread.

Let's see.

The blades reached him first, smashing into the black lightning that coated his body. Instead of disintegrating the fiery weapons, the ominous streaks of blackness broke them down. They stripped them of their forms, leaving the once blades as just clustered of fire-attuned ahjer.

Likely as a result of the bars, the air was not thick with ahjer like it was outside. Dalric could have used that extra ahjer to feed Thunderfield. This would be his alternative. The streaks stretched from his body and consumed the clusters.

He managed to absorb eight of them before their conjurer noticed, triggering them to explode rather than be dismantled. Dalric merely covered his face with his hand. The force of the swords’ sudden explosions were minor, like the amount of ahjer he managed to claim from them. Before he could hiss over that fact, the conjurer himself arrived.

A long, thin blade in hand, he lunged for Dalric’s head immediately. Dalric moved to catch it, but abruptly jerked his head to the side instead. His quick movement narrowly avoided an eye gouging. He followed the small jerk with a duck and a side step, expertly escaping the swordsman-conjurer’s brisk combo.

That’s an… odd weapon.

Dalric could sense something peculiar about it, but didn’t have the time to analyze. The man conjured floating daggers below his feet and continued to hunt for his head.

The technique came as no surprise. Dalric had long grown accustomed to his opponents employing such crutches to overcome height differences. His lack of a helmet was an obvious weak point too, so he was prepared for the follow-up flurry. He evaded it as calmly as he did the first.

When he found an opening, he took a step back. That opened the space for another jab at his eye. It was instantly taken. Once again, the tip of a sword fizzed towards Dalric's face.

He stepped forward this time, adjusting his body to let the sword glance off his shoulder plates, and jabbed with his left hand. Dalric’s gauntlet laced knuckles connected sweetly with his floating assailant’s forehead, cracking his mask, but failing to send him reeling like he anticipated. He retreated of his own accord, drifting away on his conjured blades.

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Good enchantments on the mask as well. And…

He peeked at the conspicuous gap in his lightning covering and the deformed mark on his armor beneath it.

That sword is a serious problem.

The man swiftly recovered as Dalric’s eyes drifted away, spawning two more scorching daggers and renewing his assault.

Are those daggers more, or less potent?

The latest ahjer made weapons floated above their conjurer’s shoulders as his main blade danced in his hands. Whether by special materials or special enchantments, the sword was resistant to the naturally forming lightning of Thunderfield. At its current level at least. Which meant as Dalric weaved around his attacks, the lightning that covered him had zero defensive use.

He thought about gambling on its offensive use, but in the event whatever attack he managed was nullified, he’d reduce his already low ahjer for no gain. With even more on their way to him and with even less certainty about their relative strength, that would be a foolish gamble. There was one thing he could do, though.

Dalric began gradually making some distance between himself and the swordsman-conjurer. He did so discreetly, he’d already baited the lunge once so he had to lull him into believing he wasn’t expecting it rather than make it the obvious choice. It took a bit of time, his armor was further scratched for his efforts, but eventually the thrust came.

Just as the man began the motion, Dalric flashed the lightning around his torso white. The sudden shift from deep darkness to blinding brightness stunned him, giving Dalric just enough of a window to empower his fist and step forward into a right hook. He couldn’t evade.

Dalric’s punch hit like a detonation. An explosion burst outward as he made contact. Unfortunately, it wasn't his target that he’d connected with.

Instead, once his fist got within about half a foot of the cracked white mask both of the floating daggers dove in front of it, exploding on impact. They couldn’t halt the entire force stored within his punch, but what remained of it merely served to knock the man to the floor. It didn’t even take a blink for him to get back to his feet and hop on his two remaining daggers.

Dalric mentally shook his head as he watched his perfect surprise attack go awry, he could only chastise himself for not considering what the ones above his shoulders were for.

Ugh.

He returned his lightning to its natural state. They both lost a power tool in their arsenal in that exchange. Though the swordsman-conjurer seemed content to resummon his floating line of defence. Dalric didn’t know what he was thinking, it wouldn’t work a second time.

A deep frown found its way onto his face either way. He was comfortably sure his experience and reflexes outpaced the sword skills, but continuing this duet would just burn time and ahjer. It would have been preferable to defeat him without expending anything extra, but as he faced another flurry he admitted to himself that he had been arrogant.

He wanted to win effortlessly, while conserving his ahjer, while also absorbing some of his opponents. That was a lot to do at once, too much it turned out. He had underestimated the man greatly and now he’d wasted precious time for nothing.

Keeping the cages active cost quite a bit of ahjer and he’d already burned through the tiny gains he made earlier. He wasn’t even winning easily. Though he was far from any meaningful danger, he’d still been on the defensive most of the time. That wouldn’t strike fear into anyone. His future informant was likely more hopeful of escape now than they were before this bout started. All in all, he was at a notable net loss. To make matters worse, he’d taken so long that the reinforcements had arrived.

Let’s just do this properly.

Dalric side-stepped a vertical slash and stuck out his arm. His ahjer rushed forward and morphed into a massive gale. Before the man could swing again, the winds blasted him off his floating daggers and into his onrushing backup. They quickly rushed to catch his fall.

Dalric couldn’t sense anyone else on the floor above so this should be the last of the reinforcements. With the three extra newcomers included, there were now four enemies in front of him. No need to waste anymore time, he just needed to be quick and decisive.

~Come, Blood Hunter~

There was barely a drop of ahjer to draw on, but Blood Hunter was an unruly beast. A massive halberd that mimicked the most legendary weapon in giant folklore, its natural size was over thirty feet long. The spell to summon it was very costly.

Dalric sized it down obviously, even as a giant he never liked using weapons two-handed. The Blood Hunter that currently formed in his palm was only six feet long. Though reduced in size, it lost none of its luster. It still glowed an ominous red, it was still three different blades held together by Reaper’s moss, and each blade still had its own deadly attunement. No matter how tiny it looked in his hands, it was still Blood Hunter. And it craved a hunt.

Dalric looked towards the four as they arranged themselves and quickly discussed strategy. His face hardened as he set himself. The now foreign sensation of Blood Hunter scratched his subconscious. It may have just been a mimicry of an actual soul weapon, but it behaved like a true one.

“Now then.” He spoke both to himself and to the hall, “Let’s be quick.”