In the cold, silent auction hall, Arim's eyes snapped open, bloodshot and intense. His posture shifted in an instant. One arm was outstretched with the palm facing outward, the other held back in a loose fist, hiding something.
The fabric of his sleeves crumbled away, as the air filled with the acrid scent of smoke, a rather obvious sign of the activation of his stored brews. He took a steadying breath as the Alchemical Energy of a Sage began to flow through him. There was no fear, a single Priest would never rattle his confidence.
Arim decided to see if he could disturb the calm of his opponent. If a Priest began to doubt himself, it could prove fatal to his abilities. Without unshakable Faith, a Priest might as well be mortal.
"You are a disgrace to your God with your actions tonight! Have you no shame?! Repent!" The hall reverberated with his booming voice.
It was truly unfortunate for him that he couldn't recognize the enemy in front of him as Silas. If he had, he certainly wouldn't have done what he did. While the determined Guildmaster wasted his breath, Silas took a moment to discern Arim's repertoire for the night.
He caught a whiff of the standard Alchemist's arsenal. Categorizing the information with his enhanced sense of smell, he noted the characteristic scents of [Liberated Flight], [Strength of The Storm], [Blood Recall], [Scaled Restoration], [Devilish Reactions], and [Alchemist's Spite]. But he also caught a whiff of something unexpected: there was another person in the room, hiding in the gallery behind him.
"Quite a spicy perfume... Is my little friend here planning to team up against a lowly Priest... or is someone being naughty and not listening to him?" Silas thought, a small smile playing on his lips. Either way, it wouldn't change the outcome.
Arim saw that his words had no effect, and what's more, the Priest even smiled at him. The gall!
Deciding to disregard conversation and do things the old-fashioned way, he punched forward with his loose fist, spreading a dark green powder that liquefied and vaporized on contact with the air. It quickly expanded, covering the entire stage around him as it moved towards Silas.
When it came in contact with Silas' new skin, the flesh became numb and turned green. Normally, Silas would have used one of the detoxifying agents that were embedded in his flesh or inside a vial within his satchel to neutralize the effect, but he had a show to put on, and it would be terribly depressing to have it end it prematurely.
Even if Arim used a Paramount level poison, chances were that Silas could withstand it for a while with his natural resistance alone, let alone a Sage's poison...
While Arim made his move in releasing the fog, Silas prepared one of the paper talismans he had brought with him, an old trophy of his that would be very appropriate for tonight's aftermath.
The atmosphere between them thickened with tension, the green, foul-smelling mist surrounding them. The light in the hall should have been bright, but the mist seemed to envelop it, leaving their impromptu arena a cold and dark place.
Silas heard the sound of a deep intake of breath. In an instant, Arim appeared before him, gliding close to the ground as he attempted to thrust a long silver needle through the base of Silas' jaw. A quick dodge later and Silas was out of harm's way. However, Arim followed up by opening his mouth wide and regurgitating out a sizzling clear liquid. Silas swung his mace to deflect it to the side and quickly shook the excess off the weapon. The nearby seat covered in the liquid quickly began to dissolve, and signs of melting appeared on the part of the mace that had deflected it.
----------------------------------------
Emma's breath was caught in her throat as she watched the battle unfold below her.
Moments earlier, Guildmaster Arim had grabbed her by the shoulders and told her to leave the hall as quickly as she could.
When she asked for an explanation about the 'scent of blood in the air', Arim had said that someone had been murdered inside of the hall tonight.
Then he followed by saying she must inform the Magistrate as quickly as possible. His grip had become quite severe, digging into her skin. She felt it was inappropriate, yet the worried look in his eyes made her not breach that topic.
"Will you be alright?" Emma had asked.
"I don’t know," Arim had answered instantly, "but you must ignore me. It is my duty to stand guard."
However, as soon as he mentioned that he himself might be in danger, youthful hot-bloodedness got to her. She decided that if there was danger so great, she couldn’t just abandon her mother’s friend. It was the way of the Heavenly Flame Sect—to stand by those close to them come what may.
Headstrong, courageous, witty, beautiful—these were all words that could barely describe this Young Mistress. Although… one word could fully capture her: impulsive.
Instead of escaping and getting help as Arim had instructed, she took to the shadows on the far side of the gallery. This gave her a good view of the coming action while keeping her perfectly out of sight. She watched Arim take center stage. He was calm, his hands joined together in front of him. She didn’t quite understand what he was doing but heard clearly when he spoke.
"Oh Rovinius..."
Emma was surprised to learn Arim was a pious man, he didn’t seem the type. Within a few moments, the doors opened and into the room strolled a figure she would never have guessed.
"The Priest of Probitas?!" she muttered under her breath, eyes wide.
She then observed the events playing out: Arim trying to shake the Priest with words and then releasing the green fog. The breakneck speed of their exchange of blows left her amazed at Arim's versatility in attacks. Yet to her horror, the Priest held his ground with simple physical brutality.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
The Priest moved with precision despite Arim's fog, each step calculated to avoid closing the gap prematurely.
Arim lunged forward with a vial in hand, smashing it against the Priest's chest. The liquid hissed and sizzled on contact but failed to penetrate.
His eyes narrowed as he pulled back momentarily, reassessing his strategy. However, the Priest would not allow him such a boon, as he took the opportunity to press forward, closing the distance between them with alarming speed. His fist connected with Arim’s jaw in a brutal uppercut that sent him staggering backward.
Emma watched in horror as Arim struggled to regain his footing. She decided that is she was going to act, she had to do it soon but needed the perfect moment.
An ornate golden bow, engraved with flame motifs and strung with a Spirit Beast's sinew was conjured within her hands. She calmed her nerves as explosions echoed from below her position.
"Now or never," she thought to herself.
She nocked an arrow made of flame, infused with Fire Qi that she had practiced her entire life to control and aimed carefully at the Priest. Her fingers trembled slightly but steadied as she exhaled slowly.
The sounds of battle raged on below—each clash reverberating through the hall—as Emma waited for just the right moment to unleash her Art.
----------------------------------------
Arim's intensity was almost feral as he lunged at Silas, every single twitch of his muscles was deliberately done to end this fight as soon as possible. He recovered from the uppercut he took, shaking it off and renewing his wariness of the Priest. This kind of physical might you’d only expect to find among Warriors…
He thought for a brief moment over the fight's sequence and concluded that he was not dealing with a Priest… however, the miracle he cast earlier in the day was real… Arim decided he would find out what was happening after he inspected the attacker's corpse afterwards.
He stomped the ground hard, cracking it and launching the front row of seats into the air. He unleashed a volatile compound from his palms that exploded and launched the seats towards the attacker. In the process he singed his palms, which now had a texture closer to leather. He could feel the pain radiating from the burn but could not focus on it for now.
The seats Arim had launched flew at Silas and impacted with a crash, but Silas's mace swung out in a powerful arc, splintering the seat into fragments. Not to lose momentum, Arim produced a number of poisoned needles as he jabbed forward, aiming for the stomach to create a gap in his opponents defense.
Silas assumed Arim was smart enough to realize by now that he was not a Priest, so to add to his misconceptions he decided to use a cramping agent stored within his own flesh, causing his abdomen to harden like metal similar to a Warrior's ability called [Endure], rendering the needles' puncturing ability useless.
Undeterred by the failure to pierce his skin, Arim quickly adapted. Out of his robe's collar one of the grooves peeking out glowed bright blue. He felt the slithering sensation of [Boyle's Boil] making its way down his hand and into the needle that was still in contact with the attacker. This brew didn’t need to be injected to take effect, it worked by surface application.
Almost immediately, Silas's skin erupted in painful, fluid-filled boils, the potion working its insidious magic. His face contorted in discomfort, but his eyes remained focused and sharp. Just as he began to swing his mace in retaliation, Arim sensed the danger and sprang back, narrowly avoiding the potentially deadly blow.
However, the mace did clip the tips of Arim's fingers, sending a sharp pain shooting through his hand and releasing a retaliatory poison called [Alchemist’s Spite] out of the open wound.
But as quickly as the injury occurred, it began to heal, the effects of [Blood Recall] and [Scaled Restoration] working in tandem to close it almost instantly.
Arim hovered a short distance away, his eyes scanning Silas for any new signs of weakness. The poison from [Alchemist's Spite] still hung in the air. Alas, Silas appeared unaffected.
Realizing this tactic was futile, Arim pulled out a vial of bitter-tasting purging solution to detoxify himself of that particular substance and allow for more room to activate other, hopefully more helpful potions. He activated [Ironflesh], his body hardening in preparation for the next round of combat.
Silas flipped his mace nonchalantly, his eyes not leaving Arim. The fog Arim seemed to not obscure Silas’s senses in the slightest. He was impressed by Arim's tricks, yet time was running out and with Silas limiting himself to only using the Priest’s mace and his physical might, this fight would be far from over if it continued like this. Within his mind, he estimated he had about 20 minutes before the Magistrate arrived.
With a burst of speed, Arim darted forward again, his fists now encased in a metallic sheen from [Ironflesh].
He aimed a powerful punch at Silas's chest, but Silas countered with a downward swing of his mace. The two forces collided with a resounding crash, sparks flying from the impact. Arim's enhanced strength allowed him to withstand the blow, but the force still sent him skidding backward across the destroyed floor.
As Arim regained his footing instead of using his Sage abilities, perhaps to not harm his palms once again, he produced a vial of [Flame's Fury], a volatile mixture designed to ignite upon contact with air.
With a flick of his wrist, Arim hurled the vial at Silas. The glass shattered midair and released a burst of fire. Silas raised his mace and swung it wide, dispelling the brunt of the flames, yet still catching flame onto his robe.
He quickly patted out the flames, narrowing his eyes in annoyance. Swinging with a wide arc he lunged forward aiming at Arim's head.
Ducking just in time, Arim could hear the mace whistling past his ear narrowly escaping a gruesome injury. What followed as a counter was a quick jab to the ribs. The Iron-fisted punch landing with a solid thud. This, however, didn't slow down Silas, who was coming around with another strike.
Just as he was swinging down an arrow made of flame shot towards his back.
----------------------------------------
Emma's fingers trembled as she released the arrow, her thoughts a desperate plea: "Please hit!" The arrow sliced through the air with deadly precision, but to her dismay, the Priest twisted his body as he backflipped over it, evading the projectile with an almost inhuman grace. Silas's eyes locked onto hers for a fleeting moment, twisted amusement reflected within them. The arrow's target altered due to the dodge, now hurtling toward Arim.
Arim's instincts kicked in. He raised his forearms just in time to absorb the impact. The force of the blow staggered him, but his potions worked swiftly, sealing the gaping wound that appeared, only this time there was no poison that leaked out. His face contorted with rage as he bellowed, "You fool! Why are you still here?!"
Emma's cover was blown. She leaped down from her perch, firing arrows in rapid succession at Silas. Each shot missed its mark as Silas dodged effortlessly.
"I couldn’t just leave you alone to face this!" Emma shouted, her voice a mix of defiance and desperation.
Arim's heart pounded wildly in his chest as he locked eyes with Silas. The wide, hollow smile on Silas's face set off every bad premonition Arim could have. He now faced the daunting task of protecting Emma while battling a highly skilled killer. Gritting his teeth, he made a decision.
With a powerful stomp, Arim prepared to leap between Emma and Silas. But Silas had anticipated this move from the start. As soon as Arim leaped, Silas threw the talisman he had been holding ready.
Arim braced himself for an impact but was taken aback by how light it felt when it struck him. Then it happened. Barbed chains erupted from the talisman on his back, wrapping around him and digging deep into his flesh before turning illusory. The scream that tore from Arim's throat was not one appropriate for a man of his age—but then again, chains cutting into one's soul seemed a good excuse for such a reaction.
Instantly, all of Arim's alchemical grooves dimmed as shifting scripts covered his face. He crashed and tumbled toward the midpoint between Emma and Silas, coming to a horrible realization.
He recognized what had struck him: an ability of a second-step Priest—a Bishop.
Spitting out blood and words alike, Arim slumped on the floor and gasped out, "Why do you have… a [Punishment Order]?!"