The next few minutes passed in a haze of concentration as I traded blows with the void tree. I struck at it with shadow, and every now and again, managed to land a physical disable—usually as a result of stunning paw or ponderous step.

It, in turn, threw a relentless barrage of psi spells at me, whether in the form of etheric lashes, stygian thorns, psychic screams, telekinetic blasts, or a whole host of other previously unseen abilities.

I weathered them all.

Not without help, though.

At the two-minute mark, a lance of concentrated purple lashed out from the void tree’s trunk, and catching me off-guard, struck me dead center.

A level 340 young void tree has cast psi drain.

You have failed a mental resistance check. A young void tree has drained 60% of your mental energy. Psi remaining: 11%.

The attack, not unsurprisingly, left me shocked and reeling, but only momentarily. I was not entirely unprepared for such an eventuality. In fact, it was one we had planned for.

Sending my mind delving into the psi bracelet on my right wrist—a legendary artifact that I not previously had cause to use in battle—I released its enchantment.

You have activated the enchantment, psi-feed. Psi-feed is a tier 5 ability which allows you to refill your psi pool using either stamina or mana.

Stamina conversion activated.

Converting stamina into psi at a rate of 1% per second.

Much to my satisfaction—and my foe’s displeasure—my psi was quickly restored to healthy levels once more.

Not long after that—in a fit of pique, perhaps—the stygian Power attempted to chain-cast physic scream, but it managed only two successive castings.

Those two were devastating enough on their own, though.

A young void tree has cast psychic scream.

You have partially resisted a psychic scream. A psychic scream has injured you.

Second quick mend triggered, restoring 50% of your health. Health remaining: 95%.

A level 340 young void tree has cast psychic scream.

You have failed to resist a psychic scream. A psychic scream has critically injured you.

Warning! Your health is dangerously low at 15%.

A young void tree has 10% psi remaining.

I limped back from the tree, barely ambulatory. “Code sigma,” I croaked into the farspeaker bracelet.

Wherever she was, my apprentice must have been keeping a close eye on me, because no sooner had I spoken the words than new life poured into me.

Nyra has cast revitalizing blood.

You have been healed of all injuries. Your health is at 100%.

“Thanks,” I breathed, bouncing back into the fight. I didn’t repeat my earlier tactics, though. The void tree had overextended itself, and in doing so, had erred.

And left me with a weakness to exploit.

Fashioning a spear of my will, I struck my foe at the very heart of its power: its mind.

You have cast slaysight (shatter).

Your mental assault has been blocked by a young void tree’s mind shield, consuming 0.5% of its psi in the process. It has 9.5% psi remaining.

I almost howled in delight.

I’d guessed right. The stygian Power’s mental defenses were just like my own. They, too, were powered by the creatures’ internal reserve of psi—a reserve it had just flagrantly spent.

My eyes gleaming in predatory anticipation, I flung more psi at my foe.

You have failed to shatter a young void tree’s mind shield. It has 9% psi remaining.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

The void tree shuddered. It knew what I was doing, and it was afraid.

As well as it should be.

Drawing more psi, I struck it again and again and again...

A young void tree has 8.5% psi remaining.

A young void tree has 8% psi remaining.

…

…

A young void tree has 6.5% psi remaining.

My assault was unrelenting. I was so close. Once the Power’s psi dropped to zero, its mind shield would fall, leaving it open to all sorts of mental manipulation. The void tree had to know this as well as I did, so…

Why was it not retaliating? It must be conserving its energy for something, I thought. But what?

A moment later, I had my answer.

A young void tree has cast nether sacrifice. Psi remaining 1.5%. Nether sacrifice is a tier 7 single-cast spell that destroys the minds of every stygian creature below tier 4 in a 200 yard radius, replenishing the caster’s store of psi in the process.

Well damn, I muttered.

Hard on the heels of the first message, another Game alert arrived.

A young void tree has 100% psi remaining.

My foe’s devastating spell crushed my hopes of a quick resolution, and with no other option, I padded forward through the water to pummel it anew with my shadow-touched paws. One way or the other I would see the thing destroyed.

No matter how long it took.

✵ ✵ ✵

My strange dance with the stygian Power resumed shortly thereafter. Once again it did its best to strike at me with psi while I gnawed and clawed at it with shadow. Notably, though, my foe avoided chain casting psychic scream again, and I, in turn, made sure to keep a wary eye out for its psi drain spell.

Throughout, I did my best to track the battle around me, although I only managed to do so in fits and starts.

As a result of my proximity to the void tree, the others had deliberately cut me out of the farspeaker network. They could still speak to me, and I to them, but we would only communicate in an emergency, and then only in code—like I had earlier with Nyra.

Nonetheless, from the few half-caught glimpses and bitten off cries I managed to pick up on, I got a sense of the battle.

Neither of the overlords on either side of me had gone airborne—which could only be a good thing. And all around me, arrows whistled, spells sizzled, and stygians moaned in pain or anger.

Few of the nether creatures sought to come to the tree’s aid. Partly, I knew, this had to be because my allies were stopping them from doing so, but it had also to be partly the stygian Power’s doing. Either the void tree didn’t feel the lesser stygians’ aid was warranted or felt the creatures had more important things to do—like killing my own people.

The rift did not open either.

Nothing came through, be it a lesser stygian, naga, or harbinger. And if that was any indication, it meant the brotherhood was doing its part.

The forerunners I heard more than saw. But that was to be expected. Other than for the strike teams, the rest of our forces had been ordered to stay out of the water—and not so coincidentally, out of the tree’s psionic range. The Bane Wolves, supported by Lucius’ group, were holding the northern and western flanks. The Packs—arctic, dire, and wolfmen—were guarding the southern front with Zekiel’s people for support.

Ghost, Elise, and the rest of the nagian-weres were the company’s roving support and, directed by Safyre, would go wherever the fighting raged hottest.

In general, the plan was for our people to hold the line at the water’s edge, shooting down any flying serpents that overflew them and fending off any lesser serpents that managed to swim ashore.

And swimming was definitely required now.

The new-formed lake was as much as twelve feet deep in places, leaving even the hydras battling to keep their heads above water. Thankfully, whether by design or happenstance, the void tree had planted itself on a gentle mound, and at this stage, the water didn’t reach my belly.

In particular, I strained my ears to listen for the cries of my people, and while I heard plenty of victorious howls and roars of triumph, what I heard much less of were anguished screams, tortured cries, pained whines, and lamenting howls.

We are winning, I thought. And decisively.

At least we were, until I heard one of the phrases I’d been dreading.

“Code Orange.”

It was Safyre’s voice, coming loud and clear through my farspeaker bracelet, and it could mean only one thing. The shield generator around the sector was going to fall in five minutes unless we did something.

The source of the attack was obvious too. It had to be the harbingers from the mature void tree’s nest. They were on their way.

But as concerning as Safyre’s message was, it did not drive me to despair. Code orange was not code red or code black. Those truly would have spelt disaster.

Safyre spoke again, her voice terse and strained. “Code Green. Code Blue.”

Backing away from the tree for a moment, I assessed our options. Both of the new code words conveyed good news. Green meant the two overlords were dead, and blue that the threat posed by the lesser stygians was contained.

And that meant we had options—options only I was in a position to assess because they all hinged on my battle with the void tree.

The first option—flight—I discarded immediately.

The second—getting Safyre, Ceruvax, Farren, Adriel, and our other top mages to reinforce the shield generator—I dismissed almost as quickly. That would only buy us a finite amount of time, but as many surprises as the void tree had pulled out already, I had no idea how much more time I would need to kill it.

No, the best way forward was option three. “Execute plan C,” I replied.

A distinct pause, then, “Executing.”

My gaze returned to the void tree. Plan C gave me and the others almost five minutes to prepare. And while they had tasks aplenty, my own boiled down to one: keeping the void tree occupied.

Which I intended to do in the best way possible.

Charging, I resumed my onslaught.