Chapter 54

Mikel’s blade bit into the hand of the male assassin who’d formerly wielded the staff.

He’d come back quickly after Helsket’s initial attack - the tremendous strike hardly denting him. Somewhere in Mikel’s mind, he wondered if the man was extra durable, or if there was something else at play.

Mikel winced as he pulled back and the man screamed, holding his freely bleeding hand to his chest. Mikel could see where he’d cut the man and the ragged, lump of pinky finger dangling from his hand, barely holding on.

Things were looking up - Until an upwelling of utter exhaustion swamped Mikel’s mind and he stepped back away from the assassin even as he wound up for another strike.

He lacked the strength to follow through with the attack - At the moment he could barely keep his feet under him.

His Stamina was running dangerously low and there was nothing he could do about it.

The male assassin dashed to Mikel’s right and before he could respond he lashed out with what remained of his staff.

The broken, shard-filled end darted toward Mikel with the speed of a dragonfly.

It was all he could do to sidestep the projectile and hope he wouldn’t trip over his own feet.

The larger issue presented itself as the assassin he was fighting, pinky finger now ripped clean off, lunged at him with his good hand spread wide.

Mikel slapped the man’s hand away but only just and it wasn’t enough.

Where Metrike’s Skill had been green and shot through with shimmering emerald light - the man’s was pitch black with nothing else.

The Skill rocketed out and brushed against Mikel’s hand - What could barely qualify as a hit - but it was enough of one to send screaming pain through Mikel’s body.

He reeled back, as fire scoured every bone in his body and something else.

My Gates.

Mikel slumped forward in pain as Helsket screamed onto the scene.

The male assassin caught the full brunt of Helsket’s attack but this time square in the back instead of the chest - the result was the same.

One second the assassin had been standing there, the next he wasn’t.

The same with Helsket - The giant man grinned at Mikel, a madman’s fury burning behind his eyes before he vanished and began an assault on the remaining two assassins.

All Mikel wanted to do was to charge into the fray - but the black pain paralyzed him as well as Metrike’s Skill had.

On top of that, it felt like his Gates were burning up.

From the tip of his toes to the top of his head the disks of light which made up his inner circuitry were on fire.

Mikel coughed to the side and dropped his sword - he felt like he was dying, for real this time. This wasn’t a dream.

His right arm mirrored his left and collapsed, dumping him into the dirt. He rolled onto his back and stared at the darkening sky above him and wondered if this was it.

I didn’t even make it to Stennin. I couldn’t even make it to a town so close a child could make the trip on a long market visit. What… What does that even -

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Mikel seized as a wave of agony swept over him, devouring his thoughts.

It was a long minute before he was able to get anything back in the way of coherent thought, but as soon as he did he forced himself to crack his eyes open and watch the ongoing battle Helsket waged against the two - No, correction, three assassins.

Very Durable. Mikel thought as the male assassin lunged at a still glowing Helsket with his shattered staff - more spear than anything now.

Mikel knew Helsket should have taken the blow, but The Lord Berserker defied every reasonable outcome for the duel and once again slashed his mace back with enough speed to outrun a falcon and enough force to shatter mountains.

This time, the assassin dodged, but not before he slapped a black-infused hand onto Helsket’s arm - then he fled.

All Mikel wanted to do was scream ‘No!’, but he couldn’t find the air as his insides burned.

The darkness the assassin slapped Helsket with swarmed over his body - first overtaking his arm, then his shoulder, and then - in a blink, the giant berserker was a swirling, inky black blob seething back and forth.

Then, with a tremendous effort he bellowed into the careening night and blew off the darkness as easily as if he were wiping away mud - Then, he was back into the fight without.

It was a sight to behold.

Mikel’s self-loathing reached a peak then and the questions for his existence ripped through him. The pain dwarfed even the black agony eating him up from the inside out.

Why don’t you just die then?

Mikel startled, his eyes shooting open as he tried to sit up. The pain from the black Essentia eating through him was still there, but the voice - that damned familiar voice rocked him to his core.

Just lay there and die, little Raithson. Die and die and die. Leave me to my own devices and pass to the next hand - although your blood is still in your body, my price will be paid. Die little Raithson, and let me work, finally.

“Callisto… Jewel -” Mikel stammered as another wracking pain shot through his body - the darkness eating away at more of what made him, him.

Die… Die… Di -

“Not… Now,” Mikel growled, “Not… Ever - not to you.”

Deep, sensual female laughter rippled up from his chest where The Callisto Jewel lay, forgotten in the rush of the battle.

“I… Won’t die to you. I didn’t die with your dream Time Demon… I won’t die to this.”

The ground rattled and it was enough to flip Mikel to his side, now able to see the full battle raging as Helsket fought three deadly enemies with his time running out. He must be down to minutes if not seconds remaining before his Skill burned him out.

Mikle tried to sit up, failed and fell back - The Callisto Jewel slipping and catching on a fold of his shirt, just within reach if he could make his arm move.

The agony came again and Mikel watched as Helsket took a vicious blow to the back from the Cat’s Claw Metrike wielded.

Helsket hardly staggered - but it was plain to see, the big man was slowing down.

Mikel had to help. No more self-pity - he had to be done with it and done with it now.

With a force of willpower he thought himself incapable of Mikel commanded his right arm, the one Metrike had frozen, to move.

And miraculously, through the pain, through the haze of exhaustion, through it all - his arm and hand moved and seized the Callisto Jewel before it could slip from where it lay trapped against his chest.

He grimaced as the shattering cold he’d grown to associate with The Jewel coursed through his arm. If he had his voice he would have screamed.

He looked at Helsket as the big man began to take hits - first from the jagged end of the staff, then a slash from the Cat’s Claw dagger - then something else, from the assassin Mikel knew nothing of.

The black-clad figured reared up like a snake, shot something from the hood of his cloak - then vanished in a puff of acrid-looking smoke.

The black and green gunk hit Helsket square on the side - sliming his arm and his chest.

For a moment nothing seemed to happen, then it all became clear what the goal of the slime had been.

It bonded together into something resembling a durable, elastic clay and held Helsket’s arm in place.

The big man didn’t have a chance to look surprised before the Cat’s Claw flicked out again and scored a bloody gash across his chest.

He bellowed and fought against the hardened slime, locking his arm in place - but to no avail. He deftly heaved his mace to his free right hand and kept fighting while steadily losing ground.

The hits he’d been taking increased tenfold and blood flowed as sweat from his body.

“No!” Mikel finally managed - pushing through the pain from the black Essentia still coursing through his body - “NO!”

I won’t lose Helsket - not like I’m going to lose my -

As he thought of his father something snapped within Mikel and the strange, familiar voice came back again.

What would you give up, young Raithson - what would you do to save your friend? What do you need to save your friend?

The voice was dulcet, deep and sonorous - and yet piercingly cold. It came to him the same way Librarian had at first, but this… was different. The chill pervading the voice promised a frigid death in the snow on a forgotten road.

“P-Power!” Mikel stuttered, fighting through the pain as the Cat's Claw sliced a deep rut down Helsket’s exposed arm.

The power coursing through the old man, roaring out of his skin like a second began to falter, and like a dying light in the west or a guttering candle fighting against the absolution of night - his Essentia and health-fueled savaging began to draw to a close.

His time was up. Mikel had to act now or never again.

What did he need?

He could think of only one thing.

“Power! I need power! I need it -”