[participant in the Royal Road Writathon challenge]
Crabs swarm all around me. I’m pulling in as much thermal energy as I can from the road in front of the village gates, but my [Heat Manipulation] Skill simply isn’t powerful enough for a battlefield area of effect deployment. It’s meant for finer, more directed applications of control, not grand gestures. Nevertheless, I press on, hoping I can push it into broader use, or at least a more violent direction whenever it next ranks up.
The crabs’ movements grow sluggish as they crawl through the extreme chill, pushing through the zone of cold, but it’s not enough to stop them from advancing entirely. The flood of crabs keeps coming, chittering and snapping their claws. Malevolent eyes, like black coals of fire, burn from beneath heavy, crimson brows—no vulnerable eye stalks on these crabs. They’re armored killing machines, straight from the depths of the abyss.
One nasty-looking crab skitters toward the front. It’s covered in sharp, jagged barbs that make me gulp nervously; if it catches skin, it’s going to tear out chunks of flesh. This particular crab charges at me, on the front line of the Crimson Crab army. It reaches my position ahead of its kindred, and I stomp on a shell in disgust.
My boots aren’t heavy enough to crack the tough chitin, and I lose my balance, leaping back to avoid a stab from its serrated claws. Cursing my stupidity for charging toward the pack, I twist away from a clacking pincer and kick another crab away from me. I backpedal as quickly as I can, staying a step ahead of the violent creatures, and finally get enough space to swing my glass knife. I sever the protruding face off the crab that charged out ahead of the others, reveling in the sharpness of the weapon.
There’s a terrifying level of intelligence in their gazes that I don’t remember from the Rift, but then again, I never really looked all that closely. I simply fled when Tem told me to run, too terrified to stop and document the Crimson Crab in its natural habitat. I’m no [Monster Zoologist] or whatever. After today, I can safely say that I’ll never develop an interest there.
Brandishing my glass knife in front of me, I crouch low to the ground, unsling my travel sack, and swing it at the crabs with my free hand. It doesn’t do any damage at all, thanks to their tough armor, but it’s heavy enough to blunt their momentum. Right now I need to buy time and space to use my blade. Between the zone of freezing cold and the constant, wild swings of my loaded pack, I stymie their assault.
Whenever I see an opening, I lunge forward, stabbing up and down with my knife like I’m hammering in errant nails. Three crabs die under the swift strokes of my blade, but it’s only a drop in the bucket as more and more of the crabs scuttle out from the gates. As I continue my tactical retreat, I glance around wildly to try to locate the town guard. Surely someone is trying to kill the beasts? Not a single man or woman seems armed, however; I’m the only one fighting.
The vast amounts of thermal energy I’ve absorbed via [Heat Manipulation] starts to burn inside me, feeling like I’m immolating myself by igniting my mana. I raise my palm and blast out a beam of heat to roast the crabs in their shells, relieving the awful pressure building up in my inner being.
The searing energy warps the air, turning my entire vision hazy with heat. When the scorching wave hits them, the crabs scream with a high-pitched wailing that sets my teeth on edge. It sounds eerily like a crying baby. I shudder, switching back over to the vacuum pull of absolute cold to slow them down. Mostly I don’t want to listen to their shrieks anymore.
My body moves mechanically, stabbing and slashing with my glass knife through pure instinct. I kill a few more, but the crabs keep coming. Is it my imagination, or are they getting harder to kill? Either their armor is tougher the longer they fight, or my knife is growing dull. I push away the worrying thought and keep slaughtering the monsters.
A burly man runs up to my left, wielding a long pole three times as long as he is. His walnut-brown face is ashen under his thick, grey-streaked beard; his eyes are wide with terror. He doesn’t approach as close as I’d like, but he shoves the crabs back with his wooden pole. “I’ll keep them off you, lad, as long as you put them down for good!”
“Deal!” I yell, happy to have some form of help even if he stays back. I don’t fault him for helping me from a safe distance. He and I are just as scared as everyone else, but we’re the only ones doing something about it. In a way, I admire his courage. He’s not a seasoned warrior by the looks of him, but he’s here anyway.
The maddening press of armored crabs pushes ever closer, threatening to crush me under the weight of dozens of blood-red monsters. I smash my travel pack into the vanguard, knocking aside the most imminent threat, and stab a particularly aggressive crab through the brain. I yank the blade free with more effort than I’d like, whirl to the side, and cut off the pincers from another monster. My breathing grows quick and ragged, but I continue my violent retreat.
The next wave of bloodthirsty crabs breaks through my cold zone just then, and I’m too slow to dodge this time. A claw clamps onto my leg just above my boot. Burning agony races up my calf as the flesh rips. I stumble back with a scream, dropping my pack and clutching my leg.
The crab swings around, chittering an unintelligible battle cry, and I pierce its head with my glass knife. A guttural moan rips from my throat as I tear the claws away in a bright spray of far too much blood. My blood.
I glance around wildly, hoping that one of the fleeing villagers will lend us a hand, but no one approaches. They’re all hovering at the edge of the fight, unwilling to commit, but unable to tear themselves away. I brace myself for impact as the swarm advances.
Snaking in from the periphery of my sight, the big man’s wooden pole strikes out twice in a row. The pole whistles through the air, faster than I thought possible for such a large, unwieldy weapon. The heavy blows don’t do lethal damage—in fact, they don’t seem to hurt the Crimson Crabs at all—but they knock away the nearest crabs before I go down under the swarm of angry creatures. I almost sob in relief at the timely intervention.
A second later, a big hand clamps down on my left arm, dragging me bodily away from the monsters. “There are too many of the bloody beasts, stranger!” the big man shouts in my ear. His voice is melodic, lilting in a pleasant accent that I can’t quite place. His volume raises further, and he addresses the crowd of escapees.
“Get to my boat! I’m a [Barge Master], just passing through on my way to the Isles. I can take us to safety.”
A wide-eyed girl drops a satchel as a crab bites into it. She shrieks and runs by us. “We have to report this to the army!”
One of the fleeing men spits to the side, his sun-weathered face growing stormy. “The army? Those good-for-nothing fleabags can’t find their own back ends on a good day. Only the [Mages] can save us now.”
“Don’t pay my Claude no mind,” a woman interjects. She grabs my right arm and helps the [Barge Master] haul me to my feet. Together, we hobble back toward the river I crossed not long ago, staying just ahead of the swarm.
“Helena,” she introduces herself. “I’m Claude’s wife. He lost two brothers in the service. Bad memories. Don’t hold it against him.”
I shoot him a sympathetic glance, then shrug off my helpers as a crazy idea takes root in my mind. “Go!” I roar at them. “Get to the boat. I’ll hold them off.”
The [Barge Master] hesitates for a moment, bless his kind soul, but soon sprints off after Claude and Helena. Praying I can buy them time, I turn back toward the Crimson Crabs with a grim set to my jaw. It’s time for all my mana practice over the last few weeks to pay dividends.
I plant myself in the path of the oncoming swarm, take a deep breath, and sink inward to grasp hold of my remaining mana. My emerging intent coalesces as I meditate on the aspect of sharpness. The hum of swirling energy is so potent that the power scores tiny cuts across the surfaces of my Skill structures. The virulent force wells up within me, and when I can handle it no longer, I blast out over three-quarters of my mana at once.
The improvised attack discharges outward in a criss-cross array of mana tendrils, each finer than a human hair, straining my growing aptitude with external mana control to its absolute limit. The razor-wire mana mesh hits the oncoming crabs in a dazzling display of explosive energy, mincing apart every monster for half a dozen paces in front of me. I drop to one knee, my head pounding from the mana drain.
The searing afterimage of the mana mesh’s impact is imprinted on my brain. Blinking to clear my vision doesn’t seem to help, so I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to rely on my [Manasight] to pick out the faint signatures of each monster. A low groan reverberates up from my chest when I try to form words. I spit out a ball of phlegm that tastes suspiciously like copper.
My muscles are shaking, dull and non-responsive, but I tighten my grip on my knife and prepare to face down the last of the Crimson Crabs. A disturbance in my [Manasight] tips me off, and I fling myself to the left as a tiny blur of mana-activity zips toward me on the right. I lash out with my boot, kicking blindly, and I’m rewarded by a thin, piercing shriek.
My knife is swinging around before I even consciously will myself into action. The blade hits resistance. The shriek cuts off, and the knot of mana winks out. Success! A crazed sense of satisfaction brings a grin to my face as my mana-sensing plan works. I begin to hunt down the other crabs, chasing after their mana signatures to track them unerringly through the dusky cover of night.
After I take out a few more, the other crabs skitter back, milling about just outside of the effective range of my [Manasight]. I’m worried that they’re just regrouping to prepare for another wave of attack, so I force my eyes open, squinting against the fading effects of self-induced blindness. Someone has to stop them. The townspeople will make it to the boat, no matter the sacrifice I have to make.
“[Mage]!” a hoarse voice shouts from behind me, and others take up the cry, clapping and whooping, cheering about their salvation. Excitement rippled through the gathered crowd, so powerful it’s a tangible thing.
I sag in relief, thankful for the impending rescue. I don't know how a [Mage] responded to the threat so quickly, but it’s excellent timing. Then it hits me with a jolt that they’re talking about me. I laugh bitterly, my gaze locked on the ten or fifteen remaining crabs. The villagers have no idea that I can’t repeat my ludicrously expensive mana trick, not with my mediocre Capacity, and they’ve stopped running for safety. Now they’re hollering encouragement, waiting for me to put an end to the incursion.
I reach for the last dregs of my depleted mana, forcing the torpid remnants to flow into [Heat Manipulation] in preparation for one last attack. I’ll take out as many as I can in one go, and then stab the rest. I might even survive this if the [Barge Master] helps me fight, I think as I shake with fear and adrenaline.
I stagger to my feet, advancing on the horde while I gather my power. “Fight for your homes!” I shout at the villagers, hoping to inspire them to reinforce me in the fight against the Crimson Crabs before I collapse.
Only to stare in disbelief as the monsters flee.
=+=
A quarter of an hour later, my leg is bandaged up thanks to Claude’s wife, Helena. She doesn’t have a healing class, but in her own words, she raised three rambunctious sons, and keeping them alive was plenty of training for stitching up wounds. We’ve cleared out this wave of crabs, but there’s still sounds of fighting and fleeing in the city.
I’m chugging a half-empty mana draught, courtesy of the [Barge Master], Ashinga—or Ash, as he prefers to be called. We are advancing in a slow march through town, hunting down stragglers. I am trying to stay topped off to counteract the precipitous costs of flinging around my mana without the appropriate combat Skills.
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“Fortunate indeed that you were passing through, [Mage Acolyte] Zebulun,” Ash says in his dulcet tones as we team up to skewer another crab.
He, at least, recognizes that my mana pool is insufficient for a fully trained [Battle Mage]. Yet if he harbors suspicions, he keeps his peace. After all, I’m too valuable as a walking, talking advertisement—the [Mage] savior who approves of Ash’s wares!
Night is falling, but the town’s lights glimmer, turning on to illuminate the streets. We rush through the town under the artificial light, joining up with pockets of resistance. As the minutes bleed into hours, we round up the remaining threats, systematically dispatching them with my newly-crafted glass knife.
Most of the villagers lack proper weapons, and my knife is the only threat worth much against the crabs, other than a huge sledgehammer wielded by a [Demolitionist]. He has an array of Skills related to breaking up stubborn foundations, and it turns out that they work wonders against the hardened chitin of the armored monsters.
Our little band sweeps through the town, pursuing the last surviving Crimson Crab. Led by a valiant “[Mage],” the villagers have found their backbone, or at least they are willing to herd the monsters into choke points with brooms, iron fire pokers, and frying pans. Ash and I team up to kill the crabs, slaughtering them with increasing effectiveness, albeit with far less flair than the muscular [Demolitionist], whose attacks vaporize the crabs in huge sprays of viscera.
I’m torn about revealing the truth of my newly anointed position, not wanting the villagers to lose their nerve if they find out I am not actually a [Mage]. I sigh. Perhaps they will follow the [Demolitionist] instead, but I don’t want to risk it. I’m not keen on perpetuating the lie about my abilities, either. I have no idea what the backlash might be if they find out I am unintentionally lying about my Class.
I push aside my dilemma for now, panting as I pound down the pavement in pursuit of our prey. Up ahead to the right, the group of villagers led by the doughty [Demolitionist] cuts off the Crimson Crab’s escape path. We’re using a pincer formation to trap the last crab in an alley, forcing it into a dead end, and the irony of the tactic’s name isn’t lost on me.
The cornered Crimson Crab raises its oversized, razor-sharp claws, clacking them at us threateningly. This beast is huge, nearly three times as large as the other crabs we’ve fought, with a white band spiraling across its body. I wonder if that denotes it as the leader of the lesser Rift incursion. It seems more intelligent than the other monsters, and based on the swirl of mana I sense, it may be capable of casting magic.
“Attack incoming!” I roar as the mana spikes in my [Manasight]. I fling myself behind a corner, terrified by the potency of the gathering mana. It’s strange to see mana Skills in a creature instead of a person, I think to myself as I peek back around the edge, curious to watch what happens.
To their credit, the villagers scatter instantly instead of second-guessing my command. Their quick thinking saves lives as they dodge the spray of blood-red shards. Needles from the crab’s shattered shell ping into walls and bury themselves a finger’s length into stone—easily enough to shred a man to pieces.
I shudder, glad that I didn’t get caught in the blast, and charge forward while the big crab is still recovering from using such a powerful mana ability. The creature hisses, drawing itself up on its multiple legs to glare at me eye to eye. Its alien mana signature ramps up again, and its menacing eyes glaring at me sets me panicking. I falter, turning for cover, before I realize that the spell is sputtering instead of properly igniting.
“It’s too injured for more magic!” I roar, dashing forward and waving my knife over my head to indicate that it’s time for us to counterattack. Gaping chunks of the Crimson Crab’s thick carapace are missing, blown away in its devastating, sacrificial assault. I’m not about to pass up such a golden opportunity to finally finish it off.
I stretch out my hand, summoning vehement heat, and lash out with as much mana as I can pour into my [Heat Manipulation]. My channels are burning with the strain of constant drain, but I down the rest of the mana draught Ash gave me and keep firing. The crab screeches as its exposed flesh chars and smokes, large flakes peeling off from the scorching temperatures.
Ash runs up beside me, his barge pole at the ready, but the others are cowering in fear. It’s hard to blame them in light of the horrifying attack we just witnessed, but I hope that Ash and I are enough to kill the creature by ourselves if the [Demolitionist] doesn’t show up soon.
Besides, a selfish part of me doesn’t want to share the glory for saving the town. The pragmatic part of me thinks I should slip out while I can. I’ve drawn too much attention already.
“Look out!” Ash shouts, shouldering me aside just in time. The crab’s massive claws snap shut on empty air. Ash thrusts his sweeping pole forward, pinning the monster to the wall. Angry squeals and squirms erupt from the ugly, armored monster as it writhes in a vain attempt to escape. The big [Barge Master] strains, his arms and legs shaking to hold back the leader of the Crimson Crabs incursion.
“Finish it, Zebulun!” Ash hollers at me. “Quickly, before my Skill expires. This thrust with my pole is meant to dislodge my boat if we’re ever stuck in the river rapids, not hold back an abyss-spawned monster!”
I duck a claw strike, looking for an opening. My hands shake, and I almost drop my knife. My heart is a runaway horse, the blood of its passing thundering in my ears.
“Die!” the [Demolitionist] screams, running out of a nearby alley and leaping at the crab. His sledgehammer flashes down, empowered by a glow of mana as he uses another one of his powerful Skills intended to destroy rock and stone, and I turn my head instinctively to avoid the spray of blood and guts sure to follow.
Another flash of mana fills my senses just then, brighter and more sinister than the force from the [Demolitionist]’s Skill. “Stop!” I yell in warning, as the full extent of the crab’s cunning is on display. It held back its final Skill, waiting for just the right moment to activate.
The huge sledgehammer smashes against a geodesic mana-fueled shield that springs up around the king crab’s carapace. The shield quivers with the force of the blow, and then the second half of the Skill ignites: the heavy sledgehammer rebounds back with the full force of the swing, right into the [Demolitionist]’s face. He crumples up bonelessly on the ground without a sound.
I gulp, staring at the purple and yellow bruise forming on the man’s forehead. I hope he’s still alive—and I’m glad that wasn’t me! Good thing I didn’t rush in recklessly.
Marveling at the monster’s strength, I advance as quickly as I can while still dodging the flailing crab legs. I’m not interested in getting skewered. Holding my cobalt knife in an icepick grip, I pounce forward and drive the blade down onto the crab’s head, aiming for the brain pan.
The blade strikes true, piercing through the armor where the sledgehammer failed. The force of the stab breaks open the outer shell of the carapace, but the narrow tip of the glass knife chips off in the sturdy, mana-reinforced chitin.
White-hot anger licks through me like flames. My vision fuzzes with the surging rage of my righteous indignation, and I hack at the Crimson Crab with every ounce of strength I have left while screaming at the beast. “You! Broke! My! Favorite! Knife!”
I dispatch it with another stab, finally dragging the edge through the tough, folded layers of flesh. Even with all the missing slabs of carapace, I’m barely able to cut through the leader of the crabs. I grunt with the effort of hacking it apart, but don’t stop until I’m certain it’s dead.
I stand there, my chest heaving, and stare down at the mangled corpse of the Crimson Crab. The monster’s mangled flesh shines with a terrifying luster in the harsh lamplight. It’s a truly magnificent and horrifying beast of the abyss, far fiercer and harder to kill than the average crabs, with impressive defenses in addition to its spellcasting. The villagers couldn’t harm this one at all—and if I didn’t have my new knife, it would have destroyed everything in town.
“I believe that is the last of them,” Ash declares, an easy smile on his broad face. “This looks like the one in charge, no? A little beast king. Ha! Fascinating variant.”
Helena and Claude tiptoe past the crab’s corpse, their eyes bugging out of their head at the sight of its fearsome claws, and drag the [Demolitionist] away to safety.
“The trouble is far from over,” I say quietly, waiting until they’ve left earshot. Even though no one else comes close, I keep my voice down so that I don’t scare the others. “These are not normal monsters; Crimson Crabs come from a Rift.”
Ash recoils. “By my mother’s bones. I should have stayed home!” His eyes narrow as he considers me with an assessing gaze. “Why not mention this sooner, Zebulun? We never should have come back to town. I’ve heard rumors that Rifts are opening across the country, but I didn’t put much stock in the idea. If the Rifts are real, though, then we need to evacuate everyone who can leave. Immediately!”
“It’s not a Greater Rift,” I reply, “or else I would see far more mana fluctuations. And if we had left town, Ash, then how many more graves would the army have to dig when they show up in a week to check on the disturbance?”
Ash flinches at the rebuke. “As you say. We saved lives. What’s done is done.”
“I should be able to close it,” I say, projecting more confidence than I feel at the moment.
“How? What do you know?” Ash asks incredulously. He leans closer, shielding us from the crowd with his big frame. He fixes me with a hard glare that’s at odds with his soft, musical voice. “I know you are not truly a [Mage]. You have impressive skills with mana, true, but a real [Battle Mage] is a terrifying, transcendent existence. You would not have needed our help to finish off those few monsters if you were what you say you are.”
“I never claimed I was a [Mage],” I say with a scowl. “Besides, I seem to recall that you were happy enough to use the deception to sell more of your mana draughts.”
Ash spreads his hands wide with an innocent look on his face. “Ah, true enough, my new acquaintance. But I believe you mistake my intentions. I have no desire to unmask you to the masses. Rather, I am merely concerned that if there is indeed a Rift here, then you will not return—your combat prowess is simply not up to par. And I find that I like you well enough to not wish you dead. Ha!”
“Well, that’s the most ringing endorsement of a friendship I’ve ever heard,” I say with a wry chuckle. “I admit, though, that I return your sentiment. Stay alive!”
“Good. That settles it: we are friends, now, not mere acquaintances. But these people are still endangered,” Ash continues seriously. “I'm not prepared to take everyone on my boat. I simply don’t have room to fit everyone; my draft won’t handle that many people. They should flee as far from here as they can, however, at least until the army can move in.”
I shake my head. “Densmore's army is otherwise occupied with their own Rifts. By the time they can spare the manpower, we’ll either be dead, or have taken care of this on our own. I vote for the latter, particularly if you can load me up with mana draughts before I enter the Rift.”
“How do you propose to find this Rift?” Ash asks, rubbing his neck. “I’ve heard they're notoriously difficult to locate.”
“True, if they haven’t opened yet. Oftentimes, the membrane of reality thins out—the very fabric of reality is one loose thread away from ripping open. When the weave repairs itself, however, then that potential Rift dissipates, and finding it will be impossible. But in this situation? The damage is already done. The Rift stands open. All that’s left is for entrepreneurs like you and I to walk through and claim our rewards.”
Our conversation is interrupted by a swarm of cheering townspeople, who finally seem to believe that the last crab is dead. They drag off the corpse of the crab, adding it to the pile as I directed them earlier. If they sell the leftovers to the right buyer, then the monster parts are quite lucrative.
While it galls me to pass up the money, I don't have the space to carry it with me. And besides, I’d rather not attract that kind of extra attention in Grand Ile anyway. Showing up with expensive monster parts will likely raise questions that I don’t want to answer, not if I’m working to distance myself from my identity as Nuri.
“Attention everyone,” Ash calls out, holding up his barge pole and waving it around like a flag. “Our fine friend Zebulon has informed me that he needs to fight the source of the monster incursion and destroy it. Please return to your homes and hide. I will outfit him with merchandise from my boat, and assist in his endeavors. If you need extra wares during this trying time, then you know where to find me.”
I snicker at his shameless advertising, but I stop as soon as I see the stricken faces of the villagers. The idea that it’s not all over yet goes over like a dash of vinegar in fresh milk, curdling everyone’s good mood. The streets clear out hastily, so I take advantage of the lack of people to speak freely as I accompany Ash back to his boat.
My leg still hurts from where one of the crabs pinched me, but the [Barge Master] is true to his word and offers me healing tonics. They’re not as potent as a dedicated [Healer], but they do take the sting away. I flex my leg experimentally, finding that I’m able to move with less of a limp. It will have to do for now.
Between the bandage from Helana and the salve and health tonics from Ash, I’m more or less in fighting shape. There’s no sense in waiting to enter the Rift. Who knows what else might spawn in the meantime. We can’t risk dallying.
I’m not quite topped off with mana, despite the constant mana draught drinking while we cleared out the town. I grimace as I knock back another one. I’m dreading the splitting headache I’ll get from forcing myself to consume and use so much mana in one day, but there’s no way around it.
Outfitted at last, we jog around the outskirts of town, following the vague direction people seem to recall the crabs coming from. I flare my [Manasight] while we run, pushing the Skill as hard as I ever have before. Searching for a mana hotspot that will indicate the mouth of the Rift seems more reliable than guesswork. Theoretically, it should put out a blatant mana signature, which I can use to track it down.
“Getting close?” Ash asks, clearly still skeptical that I can find the Rift.
I shake my head slowly, choosing my next words with care so that I don’t sound like I don’t know what I’m doing—although I really don’t know what I’m doing. I’m saved from giving an awkward answer, however. A blinding glimmer of mana catches my attention, right on the edge of my senses, and I turn to Ash with a smug smirk.
“Ah! Got it,” I crow triumphantly.
“Suspicious timing,” Ash says, but his good nature just makes me laugh. We round a bend in a street on the edge of town, and the shimmering portal manifests. The way his eyes goggle are worth putting up with the skepticism.
“You’re certain that I can’t entice you to join me by offering you a share of the treasures inside?” I ask one last time as we pause before the twisting portal in the air. The edges warp and waver, like reality is a soap bubble floating through the skies, far too fragile and ephemeral.
I hope it doesn’t pop.
“I might kick myself for my cowardice in the future,” Ash says, still shaking his head as he stares at the Rift, “but I like my pretty face the way it is far too much to risk harming it. Good hunting, Zebulun.”
“Stay safe, my friend.” I wave a final farewell, and plunge into the Rift.