Markus had seen an adventurer fight before. Just once. The adventurer wasn’t an elite or a high rank, but she was still an experienced delver, and had been ambushed by a gang from the slums on her trip back from the forest. The gang must have mistaken her for a poor hunter on the way back from a good haul, and one of them had clearly made a mistake.
She hadn’t moved from her spot as she dealt with the entire group, alone. She had deflected blows and magic from every angle, Launching them into the sky with the flat of her blade, and not taking a single scratch. She had been vastly outnumbered, and she had wiped the floor with all of them. Against them, she could not be stopped, she was unbeatable.
And each suit of armour around him was her match. They were her equals in every aspect. The problem wasn't their strength, or their speed, or even their reach.
It was their skill.
Markus lunged at them, his sword slashing through the air with a swift, heavy, and powerful strike. One suit sidestepped, narrowly evading the attack, while another swiftly parried the blow, sending vibrations through his arm. The impact reverberated through his bones, a jolt of resistance pushing up against his blade.
They moved with perfect coordination, making them almost appear as one cohesive entity. Each step he took, an armour suit struck, and as he tried to dodge their relentless assaults, another suit would pounce. They fought in unison, blocking and striking, defending one another flawlessly. And when Markus attacked, they would retaliate. Their strikes came from every direction, striking his leg, his arm, from behind, then above. For a brief moment, his world was a whirlwind of blades.
But he couldn’t stop, he had to press forward, he had to protect his party. So Markus lunged at all of his foes despite the blows.
He lunged forward, his sword aimed at the chest of the dual wielding suit, he'd learned from Evans display that its chest cavity was where its life source was. The dual wielding suit was the most dangerous one, and Markus sought to slay it first and turn the tide of battle. But it effortlessly deflected his attack with its own blade, seamlessly transitioning into a counterstrike with the other.
It was swiftly joined by the others in its attack, and armoured skin clashed with metal limbs, a flurry of blades so fast Markus could barely think. Instead, he moved on instinct; his mind was a blur.
Jump. Parry. Dodge. Strike. Pain. Focus. Retaliate. More pain. Increase density. Attack.
His sword clashed with the dual-wielding suit of armour, their blades meeting in a shower of sparks. The dimly lit dungeon echoed with the reverberation of steel. The suit of armour leaned forwards as particularly strong gust of wind flew past them. They struggled with their blades locked, and the flames of its eyes grew dangerously close to Markus's face.
He heard the sound of metal footsteps to his rear, saw the shadows of the light dimming, and his instincts screamed that an attack was coming from the behind.
Markus swiftly adjusted the density of his own body, becoming lighter, and increasing his agility and responsiveness. It was risky, with a lighter density they could slice through him like butter, but if he timed it just right, he could be as swift as the wind.
He leaped, moving upwards in a gale of swept dust, dodging a sweeping strike aimed at his legs. The suit's blades sliced through the air where he once stood, their swing leaving a trail of reflected firelight, highlighting a vicious arc. He was surprised at how high his jump had taken him. Weighing less than a feather, he vaulted upwards above the heads of the armour. They leapt at him to follow, a trail of death from three directions. Time slowed to a crawl as the enemy rose into the air, their intent etched into Markus’s observing eyes.
He noticed with grim fascination that their swords were aimed at his heart, head, and neck, all killing blows. The skill they exhibited was shocking. Who made these things?
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Blue and white firelight reflected off the glinting blades as they sped towards his eyes and heart, and he increased his density in an instant in response, his mana solidifying within his body to become a dense immovable boulder causing him to plummet towards the ground. His heavy fall evaded all the swinging death blows as he fell, a rush of wind above his head and lost hair the only sure sign of how close he’d just come to being impaled. He was a comet crashing into the earth, an interloper that shook the dungeon's floors with his landing.
And soon, he heard a resounding metallic crash sound as a suit of armour landed on the rocky stone ground beside him.
Then another. Then another once more.
He was surrounded again.
Small dents and scrapes marked their forms from his lucky blows, but he had done no real damage. He grimly suspected they had allowed some of his blows to land, judging his blade to be innefectual. And it was true. His sword just wasn't enough, if he swung any harder he knew it would break. He needed something more if he was going to survive this long enough for Evan and Lucia to wake up.
He needed his weapon to be denser, to extend his skill beyond his body, like Evan had done.
Markus surged shifting mana into his palm, willing it to extend to his sword. He needed his sword to be able to damage them in order to win this. And he needed his skill to become more than it was ever meant to be, to extend beyond his body and into his weapon, but it resisted.
And the armour attacked, scoring him with blows from all directions.
[Density Control] lessened the impact of their blows, turning death blows into glancing ones, but he still felt the shockwaves of pain with every strike he received, it was a fleeting advantage. Desperation fuelled his every move. A wild swing, a crazed punch, a chip in their armour—small victories in a battle against impossible odds. But their defences were impenetrable, their unity unbreakable.
His application of [Density Control] made his muscles bones and skin far harder than imaginable- able to turn blows that should split him in twain into nought but bloody scratches.
But Markus felt trapped, unable to make a move without inviting a flurry of deadly strikes. Every move they made was calculated, precise, and lethal. And any lapse of judged would spell his end. He realised that without [Density Control], he would have died ten times over in the first exchange. Without [Density Control], he would have been overwhelmed and defeated within moments, each clash would have been his last.
***
Evan's consciousness drifted among Lucia's cells, desperate to save her from the brink of death. He hoped that Lucia would appreciate the new and improved version of herself, rather than complain about her lack of input in the matter. Evan was determined to make Lucia as capable of surviving this as possible, even if it meant sacrificing a few of her natural quirks and flaws. He doubted she would be mad at him for not consulting her about the whole "altering her DNA" thing - after all, she did always complain about her thighs. Maybe she would even thank him?
Despite that slight concern, he would save her no matter what. That single conviction burned in Evans mind like a bonfire, lighting his will. Evan's resolve solidified, like a sculptor creating a work of art, or in this case, a complex patchwork of cellular changes.
As he worked, the realization of the potential consequences to his lack of planning hit him like a blow to the gut. In a dungeon as dangerous as this one, 'winging it' was not an effective survival strategy.
His mind was filled with the possibilities he had overlooked. He possessed the ability to manipulate time, experiencing the past through his skills. It would have been a negligible risk, a temporary death at most, but it would have allowed him to discover the capabilities of the monsters lurking within the dungeon's depths. He could have gained valuable knowledge, honed his own capabilities, and prepared for the perilous journey ahead. He considered the risks he had taken and chastised himself for his reckless actions, for not using his Postcognition ability to foresee the dangers that awaited them in this unforgiving dungeon. "So what if I died?" he mused. "A temporary death is nothing compared to losing someone forever."
With that thought ringing in his mind, he made a decision for his plan in the future. He would never make the same mistake again.
Evan refocused on the task at hand. Every fibre of his being trusting in his all-encompassing skill to rewrite Lucia's cells. He felt like a cosmic tailor altering a celestial suit. He would have to face the consequences of altering her body without her knowledge or consent, but it was worth saving her life. R'hazul would be proud, what he was doing was probably from his tutor's playbook. 'R'hazul's Healing Ethics 101: What to Do - Lesson one: Anything you want.'
Evan pressed on as he fought against time to stabilize her and continued making permanent changes to her form. At this point, it was fair to say she was no longer human. Well, at least she won't need a makeover anytime soon.