The monsters had no compunction whatsoever of “getting past” Mercion. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop the entire horde that had appeared at the doorstep to the next round of the Trials of Ascendance. Especially not when they were freakishly strong as well.

“When will you cease this futility, little human?” the Nebula asked.

As expected, since it had been struck the most by Mercion’s lightning, it had demanded that it alone be the one to take him down. That was good enough for him. A small blessing to face off against one Abyssal instead of the entire gaggle of monsters.

“When you all lay slain at my feet,” Mercion said. He had to cough out a little blood to get the words out.

His fight hadn’t gone well. Mercion took the right amount of pride in his abilities, in his clan and its specialties, in the contributions he could perform. But curse the Abyss, he was still a man with all too real limits.

He had barely been able to keep up with the Aetherian. The Nebula was fast and powerful. Its void-like body was strangely durable against his lightning, and he had to forget about landing physical blows soon enough. Those stars coming from its body exploded with far too furious force for him to handle.

One bad thing about lightning was that it provided little defence. This was especially true at Mercion’s underdeveloped stage. Gods, it made him cringe internally to refer to himself as underdeveloped.

All that’s missing is time…

Yes, he was well aware of that. Dumb Abyssal in his head.

One of the Nebula’s starry fists brushed against Mercion’s shoulder. Since defending had never been one of his strong suits, Mercion had raised his Body stat higher than his Mind to grant himself enough speed to evade his enemies’ attacks. But the monster was still faster, still threatening to catch him with every blow.

Just as it had done now.

Even that little brush proved nearly fatal for Mercion. His shoulder ripped apart with a welter of flesh and blood, going so far as to expose the bone beneath. Pain clawed straight to his soul, ripping through his thoughts and concentration and nearly spelling his entire undoing.

Thankfully, his battle experience kept his instinctive movements ongoing. Mercion managed to leap backwards at an angle, evading the Aetherian’s next blistering blow.

In return, he chucked another spear of lightning at the Nebula. It dodged the first with ease, but that only brought the monster within range of his following strike, already summoned since he had taken note of its patterns of motion. This next bolt hammered home.

Unfortunately, it had little effect on the monster. At A-grade, the skill was strong enough to carve a hole through the Aetherian, but it closed up in a second. The void in the rest of the monster’s moved like it was some sort of twisted liquid filling up the empty space. Immediately afterwards, its stars and glinting light began reforming within it.

Mercion cursed. This thing wouldn’t be taken down so easily.

“See what I mean, you blighted fool,” the Nebula said. Its head was glimmering brighter and brighter as the battle went on, as though it intended to blind Mercion to death. “Your pitiful attacks cannot harm me. I am a Higher Aetherian. Have you any inkling of who you are facing, you imbecile scum?”

A vein pulsed in Mercion’s head. The thing about facing monsters was that there was no way to tell what kind of creature one had confronted. Mercion could have fought a polite Abyssal who could appreciate the finer points of war and conduct themselves with honour.

Or he could end up talking with an Aetherian with a mouth filthier than a barnyard animal. It was impossible to tell.

“What in the Abyss are you waiting for, Higher Aetherian?” the Blightmane asked.

The Nebula didn’t turn to face the AByssal “I come from the Aether, I will have you know.”

“You are giving the Aether a poor name with your lackadaisical handling of this matter.”

“Truly?” The Nebula’s voice turned a little vicious. “Would you like to have a go at it, then? Or would you prefer to continue judging from a safe distance well away from the battle?”

Well, at least Mercion alone wasn’t the sole recipient of the Aetherian’s insults.

The spikes on the white Blightmane bristled with a life of their own. “Step aside, then. I would not wish to shred you by accident if you stand too close.”

With a laugh, the Aetherian merely turned its back onto the Blightmane. It didn’t move from its spot. “I was merely riling you up, Abyssal. Now stand back and watch how a Higher Aetherian deals with the midden heap of this stained world.”

Mercion growled. Midden heap, was he? He summoned more lightning to life around him, Jagged Hurricane sending another flurry of bolts flying into the Aetherian. But the monster had an actual defence against the lightning storm this time. The stars within its body swum upwards to cover its top.

Despite his bolts hammering down with blinding, bursting force, they left barely any dents on the creature itself. Mercion gritted his teeth together. Even at A-Grade, they weren’t working effectively. Was that monster so powerful as to make all his lightning useless?

Useless…

No. He recalled the surprise he had sprung. The Nebula had been sent flying off its feet. All Mercion needed was a clearer window to attack, one that went past the monster’s guard.

“Pathetic,” the Nebula said. “And exactly what you expect from trash.”

Mercion tensed. He had expected the monster to charge at him directly, but instead, it simply let all the stars free themselves from its body. A second later, a blizzard of little meteors was flying in Mercion’s direction. His eyes widened. There was no way he could avoid that storm of power in his condition.

Nevertheless, he ran. The use of his skills had weakened him. He could even feel his muscles threatening to tear at the load he put them under and his consciousness fraying at the edges.

The stars missed him. Barely. Mercion was well aware he couldn’t afford to let even a single one of those meteors hit him. Just that brush with the Aetherian’s fist had torn his shoulder apart. The blood loss there was contributing to his weakness as well. So many little frustrations… if only he could just scream and let loose.

“You cannot run forever!”

Mercion jerked his head to one side, catching sight of the Nebula rushing at him. So now it decided to attack directly?

His heart pounded. There was no way to avoid getting hit by both attacks. Cursed monkey’s balls. Mercion pulled himself to a halt, using Thunderclap Barrier to erect walls of lightning against the monsters. It taxed his soul, of course. All his skills did. But there was no other choice. His consciousness might be fleeting but he was going to take a stand.

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No matter what.

The move had left him open to whatever the Nebula was planning to do. But Mercion was ready for it. He summoned two weapons this time with Heaven’s Spear.

Meanwhile, the Aetherian had gathered all its stars into its fists, leaving most of its body a void so dark that it looked like a lightless hole in space. Just as the Aetherian reached him, Mercion crossed his lightning spears and stabbed them into the ground. It was time to see who was truly the stronger of them, an A-Grade skill or a B-grade Aetherian.

“Mercion, no!”

The shout echoed out over the area at the moment of impact. There was no time for Mercion to turn his head and tell Silomene to stay back, to not interfere in this pointless battle.

But it was Silomene who became the reason he even survived that blow.

Just as the Aetherian’s blindingly bright fists crashed in, a burst of silvery mist sparkled to life between Mercion and the monster. They formed before his crossed lightning spears like a mirror. When the Nebula’s attack landed, its fist exploded outwards with a burst of luminous starlight, though much of it got reflected back thanks to Silomene’s Mirror Mist.

Still, it wasn’t enough to fully block the monster’s incredible power. Mercion had been foolish to underestimate it. The starburst broke through the mirroring mist and the crossed spears, striking Mercion hard in the guts and sending him sprawling backwards.

He groaned, trying to rise quickly. Not dead yet. That was good enough for now. He would take it. And then pay that Abyss-cursed Aetherian back tenfold.

“Enough, my lord.” Silomene had appeared ahead of him. Her presence had prevented the monster from closing in and dealing the final blow. “You’ve done enough.”

Mercion managed to find his voice after a biting through the pain wracking him. “No, Silomene. You don’t—”

Apparently, it wasn’t worth it to let him get his words out. Before he could finish, the Nebula rushed at Silomene with a roar. The insult made him livid. How dare that monster have the audacity to not only humiliate him in that manner but to also attack his dearest friend and comrade. He was going to tear that Aetherian piece by piece as soon as he rose back up.

Which was going to be difficult, considering how much blood he had lost. The wounds delivered to his shoulder and guts were objectively bad.

Silomene was doing a good job of evading the worst of monster’s blows. She jumped this way and that, the erratic flight of her mist-enchanted flail keeping the Aetherian back. At times, when the flail found its mark, the monster would scream as bits of it were crushed entirely.

Mercion knew he shouldn’t distract Silomene during a battle. Especially not a furious one like that, where even one moment’s loss of concentration could spell instant death. But he was oh so tempted to ask what had happened to Silomene’s original task of calling in assistance from the others. Where were they?

Strong as Silomene was, she wasn’t going to last long. Already, the strain was making itself known. Her Silver Cloak was protecting her from any of the stray stars shooting in from directions she couldn’t see, but not fully. Wherever the stars struck, they were reflected back, but the power behind did destroy the area of the cloak they hit too. Silomene was being worn down.

It just went to show how even someone in the Late-Enlightened realm wasn’t strong enough to take on a B-grade monster.

Up. Mercion had to get up. Now. There was no time to waste. He tried to force himself to his feet, but the spasm in his guts made him go faint, all his senses disappearing for a moment. All but the excruciating pain. When he could see again, he was back on the ground once more.

“No,” he muttered to himself, gritting his teeth. Sweat dripped down his face at the effort it took to even sit upright. “I will rise.”

Rise… no matter what…

Yes. Mercion would rise. He would not let Silomene fall. There was no Oromin here to protect them, so Mercion would have to do, and he would be enough.

Give me power… give me control…

“Shut up,” Mercion said.

He could do this on his own. Mercion was more than enough. No monster was going to claim him again, no manipulative Abyssal was going to take over his body. He would never allow it.

Mercion had to prove there was no monster to begin with. Just a damn voice in his head.

But by the time he got back to his feet, pain or no pain, it was nearly too late. The Aetherian had nearly overcome Silomene. She had been continuously pushed back under the Nebula’s relentless onslaught, and the monster had finally broken through her defences. The reflective silvery mist dissipated at the next blast of starry power from the monster.

Mercion forced himself to move. His legs wouldn’t obey him anywhere near as well as he would have liked, but that was fine. Heaven’s Spear summoned two bolts in his hands, both powerful enough to be used as levers to throw himself forward.

It was enough to distract the Aetherian, preventing it from landing the final blow on Silomene. In fact, as Mercion flew into the battle and the monster turned to face him, it created an opening.

One Silomene saw and immediately sought to take full advantage of.

Silvery mist wrapped around the end of her flail before the spiky head shot at the monster’s head. The mist had compressed so tightly that had turned the entire chain white.

But it never struck the Aetherian. For Mercion’s arrival into the battle had made the other monsters decide that a two-on-one scenario would be wholly unfair. Which resulted in the white Blightmane flashing into the midst of their battle with more fury and power than Mercion could have seen coming.

The Blightmane bashed aside its smaller companion from the Aether. Mercion and his lightning collided hard with the new monster’s spiky fur, easily rebuffed backwards. He probably would have died if the monster had focused on him. Instead, the Blightmane’s attention was focused on the bigger threat to the gathering of monsters, now that he was injured.

Silomene.

With a swipe so powerful that it made the air ripple with sheer force, the Blightmane’s claws hammered into Silomene.

“No!” Mercion screamed as she was flung backwards to collide with the distant tree, a horrendous crack resonating over the area. “Silomene!”

Of course, she didn’t respond. There was no way to tell if she was even alive at this point.

He turned around. The rage that had been building since this reprise of the first round had begun now boiled over. His muscles seemed to seize and he could feel his face contorting into a shape he had never properly experienced before. This, gods-blasted beast had hurt Silomene.

“You cursed—”

Mercion’s words were cut off when the monster grabbed him by the neck and raised him effortlessly into the air. Humiliating though the move was, he forgot all about such things when both his shoulder and his stomach screamed as though he had swallowed a burning iron anvil.

“This is tremendously boorish of you to interrupt my battle, Abyssal,” the Aetherian was saying.

“We must all continue onwards,” the Blightmane said, paying almost no attention to Mercion’s struggles. “Let us forget this silly incident and focus on the future, my comrade.”

The Aetherian made a disgruntled noise but didn’t argue any further. Mercion heard it all through his fading consciousness. The combination of the pain and the way the Blightmane’s grasp cut off his air supply meant he was fainting, fast. Was this it? Were his struggles finally about to come to an inglorious end?

“Kill him not.”

The words… the words came from Mercion himself. But they weren’t his. He hadn’t even spoken. What in the Abyss—

Before Mercion could properly faint, his soul was snatched away. He was no longer in control of his body, no longer in charge of himself and his senses and actions.

Somehow, in a way that was frighteningly familiar, he had been reduced to a spectator viewing his actions as a third party. It was similar to a dream. A perspective that was intimate, yet completely beyond his control.

“Who speaks?” the Blightmane asked. His grip on Mercion’s neck had relaxed just enough to not be crushing.

“It is I,” Mercion’s mouth spoke. “The Highest of the Gravemark Puppeteers.”

The real Mercion might have been watching it from some distance metaphysical space from which he couldn’t affect proceedings at all, but surely his rage had to mean something here. Couldn’t he simply reach out and choke himself unconscious. Abyss, he’d even prefer that brutish Blightmane crush him completely rather than listen to his possessed form.

“You?” the Blightmane enquired. “What are you doing here? Were you not supposed to be concentrating on efforts at the mortals’ anthill?”

“Do not kill this one,” the Gravemark Puppeteer insisted. “This, and another, are important pawns. Can you not see that it has been corrupted?”

“Hmm.” The Blightmane sniffed heavily. “The trace is there, but faint. Excised. Though clearly not completely.”

“Are we trusting the final ramblings of this mad weakling?” the Nebula asked. “Were we not to kill it and be done with all this?”

“No!” the fake Mercion insisted. “Our ultimate success depends on how many of these weaklings we can control. Think for a moment how the great ones themselves have taken control of these lands so thoroughly. Leave this one be, for it is a crucial part of getting an even stronger one of us to join soon.”

“A stronger one?” the Blightmane asked. “Which one?”

“A great one.”

“Impossible.”

“Not at all. In truth, it is already occurring right this instant. We must all do our part to secure the great one’s ascension.”

“Which one do you speak of?”

“The one who has killed many of us already. Who has nearly deciphered the truth of our kind. The one who has delved deeper than any save the other great ones. The one called Rieren Vallorne.”