Chapter 39
Champion’s Choice
Wind Steeps [Common]
Effect: Increases Movement Speed by 1 per enemy killed for 2 seconds. Stacks up to 3 times. New stacks refresh duration.
Level: 1/5
...
Hands of Wind [Rare]
+0,2 Attack Speed
Level: 1/10
...
Extended Arms [Uncommon]
Effect: +1 yard to Melee Skills and Weapons
Level: 1/20
...
Swordmaster’s Oath [Legendary]
Effect: reduce cooldowns of ALL your Sword-related abilities by 0,1 seconds for every kill. Can toggle for a different effect.
Toggle: Reduce cooldown of a specific Sword-related ability by 0,5 seconds for every kill. Does not work on movement abilities.
Level: 1/1
Killing off all six of the mini-bosses yielded quite a lot of experience, shooting Asher up to Level 20. He felt it--the sheer magnitude of Levels--for the first time, in fact. Even if, as a Chaosmonger, his visual effect on the world was much grander, he had no agency over it. He didn’t feel himself getting stronger with each Level, he just saw it, as it were.
As a Swordmaster, however, he was experiencing it firsthand. He felt how much quicker his attacks had become, how stronger they were, and how swiftly he was able to move around the battlefield. Thanks to the Dash’s unique reset, he was able to fly in the monsters’ midst like an invisible phantom, reaping their lives at will.
Loe held his ground as well--he was a bit awkward and uneven, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they were holding the line.
Asher dashed directly through a bundle of goblins, slicing their heads open, and using the reset to dash up into the air and spin wholly on the way down in an arc, cleaving through several riders in the process. As it was the third attack, he spun into nothingness and flayed out violently, demolishing everything around him.
Appearing back in reality, he dashed once again, using Heartrip whenever it was off cooldown--he plunged the tip of the blade at a speed beyond conception through the kobold's heart, tearing it asunder. Blood sprayed out but he ignored it, awash with it already, moving on.
He got into a rhythm and even began enjoying the moment, fearless. He was strong. Very strong. He had such a level of control over how his body moved that it was rather scary--for a moment, he conceived a thought... that the Stage was easy.
“WATCH OUT!!!” Loe’s lung-tearing roar was just a shade too late. Asher had just barely enough time to twist his body to the side and take a gander at it--it was a bolt the size of a city bus, the spearhead glistening in bright silver in the rain, moonlight bouncing off its surface.
He swung the sword by instinct, but it wasn’t enough; he only managed to deflect the bolt’s trajectory slightly. It ripped through the left side of his body and continued flying, carrying him with it. The bolt slammed into the gates and tore through them as though they were made from a sheet of paper, finally losing some momentum... but he carried it onward for the next hundred yards, slamming directly into the keep.
The sounds of breaking bones thundered out like desperate cries of wounded beasts--and he felt them all, every single one of them, cracking. Like stepping on a twig, except he was the twig. Pain assailed his senses so monumentally that he passed out, but couldn't even afford that reprieve as the level of pain woke him back up immediately after.
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Slouched against the bloodied, old stone, he could barely breathe, his lungs punctured. His left arm was gone, a bloody stump in its place, still bleeding profusely. His right hand was twitching, somehow still holding onto the sword, and he had no sensation in his legs. He managed to catch a glimpse of his Health--3/90.
* ..
If he didn’t have the shield from the overheal... he would have died. He would have been killed in one hit.
Terror overcame his thought and demons of anxiety and panic were once again awoken--he began to shake beneath the weeping skies. It was cold, within and without, and he was tired. So, so, so tired.
Rest, the voice beckoned.
His fingers twitched, yearning.
Close your eyes, they whispered.
He gnashed his teeth.
Sleep, he wanted to, truly. To escape.
4/90.
“EVERYONE, TO THE GATES!!! HOLD ON!!!” a beam of holy light suddenly appeared in front of Asher--Haver, tall and stout, stood above him. Dripping wet with rain, the man held onto the sword and the shield, looking down at his destroyed body with eyes void of any emotion.
“... have you had enough?” he asked hollowly. “I can end your suffering.”
“...” Asher struggled to part his lips, feeling weak still. 5/90. “E-e-end,” he spat. “Y-y-your... m-mother...”
"..." Silence weighed between the two for a moment before Havar's lips quivered and their corners beamed up into a faint smile. "Get up, then," he extended his left, shield-bearing arm and pointed it at him. A moment later, a wisp of golden light exploded and bathed Asher's body whole.
A warm sensation spattered throughout his body, beating out the odious cold.
9/90... 14/90...
He felt the chilling blood within him restore its journey, and the flesh of his mangled arm rumbling. It was an awful, painful, terrifying sensation, and the sight was no better.
26/90
From the bloodied stump, he watched baby-smooth flesh sprout out like buds from the earth, fighting to live.
36/90
The sensation in his legs returned and with it so did the harrowing pain. However, by now, he was somewhat used to it--the intolerable sensation of his entire body being ripped apart, burned, and frozen all at the same time. He endured, grinding his teeth 'till his gums began to bleed.
63/90
He forced himself to stand up, using the sword as the crutch. Havar had already left, shouting commands near the gates.
Asher forcibly lifted his head to examine the situation--there was a sea of shoddily-armored boys clogging the gates, with nearly a dozen already lying dead... and that was only those he could see.
77/90.
Healing stopped--his body was renewed, even if it went against everything he thought he knew. Even so, he was still feeling weak--though his blood had been replenished as far as he could tell, he still did suffer a sudden loss of a large quantity of it, sending his body into shock. His mind, to some extent, still believed he was in that state, pumping adrenaline like mad and making him jittery.
No, perhaps it was for the better.
He took a deep breath and ignored all the alarms in his body, moving onward. He didn’t walk but ran, his soaked boots leaving deep imprints in the dirt.
The closer he got, the more the screams of agony, torment, and torture got clearer. He caught a glimpse of a boy being impaled by a spear, life immediately snuffed out his eyes.
The monsters had reached the gates--Loe and Havar were standing valiantly at the front, trying their best to hold back the horde. Archers still remained on the ramparts, shooting whatever few arrows they had left. The rest of the ‘army’ was just a physical replacement for the gates made out of flesh and blood, where when one died, another bravely stepped forward to replace them.
Asher sensed it coming this time--he wasn’t too caught up in his own story. It was a difficult thing to miss, after all, a bolt the size of a city bus storming through the air.
He dashed directly over the fleshy wall and in front of Loe and Havar who’d barely had the time to notice him appear when the bolt glistened in the distance. But he was ready.
He swung at the perfect time, destroying it wholly--a part of his weapon’s function that he had completely forgotten until now as he didn’t have the need to use it until now. Right after, his blade hummed--Art of Primordial Iai was ready.
A singular swing of the blade cleaned up the breadth of the gates, dismantling some twenty monsters.
The second swing opened up the area directly in front of the walls, stopping some of the monsters from climbing up.
The third swing pushed them back further, dismembering over fifty monsters in a single bout.
Until the last one, he kept pushing onward, managing to create forty yards of distance between him and the men manning the gates.
He heard it, once again, in the distance. It spattered through the rain, onward toward him. But it was too late--the world stilled, his arms burning once again. Though he'd regrown his arm wholly, the burns and scars of previous usage were regrown with it, somehow. It didn’t matter. What he experienced just now was far worse than the burn--the pain barely registered in some recluse part of his mind.
The visage appeared behind him and the plumes of white proliferated from his eyes. His lips parted and his lungs roared as he beheld the sword, using every wisp of his strength to draw it out of its scabbard. He felt his muscles breaking down, tearing in a desperate bid to lift something heavier than the world. It was difficult, but not impossible.
He swung downward.
The array of death itself blurred onward, splicing the bolt in two and continuing on--it cut through the fog, through the mist, through the rain, making a clear pathway to the source of the bolt. It was a giant--some sixty feet tall, hoisting a giant, house-sized crossbow that he was currently in the process of reloading. But it was too late.
The beast hardly seemed cognizant of what transpired--one moment, it was reloading its weapon and the next, it had become... nothing. Spirited away, as it were, into the endless void, forcibly divorced from existence itself.
Congratulations on slaying an Anomaly!
-- Challenger Qyne had formed a wager and forced an Anomaly into the Stage. As the winner of the wager, if you beat the Stage, you will receive a Champion’s Choice:
* Enslave Fairy Princess Qyne Q’oen until the end of her life. She will be forced to obey your orders without question and perform tasks even if they are against her will. You may release her from bondage should you so desire.
* Ransom the wager to the Fairy Queen Allona Q’oen and receive a massive influx of Souls, Divine Gems, Items, and Passive Abilities.
* Execute Fairy Princess Qyne Q’oen. Note that this action shall have ramifications beyond the Hallowed Court and the Arena, the scope of which is impossible to predict. You will receive irrevocable hatred from Fairyfolk, Denizens of the Forest, Druid’s Coven, and Waerbeasts. Any Stage involving any of them will be 4x more difficult. You will receive gracious favor from Dragonkin, Realms of Men, and Gnomes. Stages involving them will usually be easier. Other reactions are impossible to predict.
Choose Wisely!