As Topher watched, unbelieving, the twisting tangle of luminescence between his fingers began to pulse, like a heartbeat, for just a moment before taking flight. Fast, faster than he could blink, it rocketed up into the air, startling all of the other combatants; Elkyll, now fully aware of Topher's continued existence, unleashed an avalanche of light-blades directly towards him.

As he lay there, stunned and paralyzed, the light began to dart and weave with impossible speed through the combat, as though everyone and everything else were standing perfectly still. Deftly, flawlessly, it blinked through dozens of places at once in the air air, intercepting every one of Elkyll's crescent projectiles with perfect precision. A sound like a pure, massive tone rang throughout the cavern, which confused Topher for a fraction of an instant until he realized it was the sound of many simultaneous impacts; the little mote was incredibly solid, imbued with the cthonic power of Ikei and strong enough to deflect the elf's attacks without being disrupted itself.

Dimly, he became aware of some motion behind him; he tried, involuntarily, to jerk to see before remembering he was paralyzed. Then, all at once, sensation returned to his body, along with a searing wave of pain; gasping, he flopped and rolled to one side as something invisible scourged the spot where he'd just been.

Hana, fighting furiously against her invisible opponent, yelped in surprise as the mote abruptly streaked, like a solid line of light in the air, under her right arm and tore with unexpected violence through something near her; Topher heard a cough, then a choking noise followed by a half-shriek as Hana recoiled from a flurry of black shapes which materialized out of the shadows.

As Topher stared, confused, the darkness began to recede like ink being soaked up by a sponge; the invisible figure Hana had been battling, still a whirl of activity, became visible by degrees. The other woman was impossibly tall -- nearly nine feet -- and corded with muscle; her hands, tipped with vicious claws, grasped a pair of viridian scimitars which seemed to poison the air, and her head bore great ibex-like horns that curved back over her furious, incredulous brows. "Vius should have... never trusted a human," she spat, ruby-colored blood trickling from her lips, "much less one of you."

At the sound of her voice, Hana's mouth dropped open. "Lyria?!"

The other woman spat blood in her direction defiantly, then drove Hana back with another heroically powerful double-slash; "Cloudseeker!" she shrieked, her voice thick and raspy, "Finish this!!" Gathering shadows around her like a cloak, she leapt high into the air, disappearing again into the darkness; Hana, sensing danger, flickered backwards onto a single-armed handstand which turned into a flawless backflip as a flood of acuminous shadows tore apart the air where she'd been standing only a moment ago.

Behind him, Topher heard the cacophony of more blade-on-blade combat; Shit. Zanasha's still fighting the elf. Jerking his head around, he caught a glimpse of the half-orc blade-to-blade with Elkyll, with Rudo running in a gravity-defying fashion along a wholly vertical wall behind them. Hey, they're doing pretty well, he thought to himself for a moment; but then he saw cerulean light flood in jagged, crack-like patterns up from the ground across the surface of the elf's body. Oh fuck.

There was a sharp, snapping sound, like breaking glass, and Elkyll's sword abruptly became lightning; a blast of heat and thunderous force erupted from him, tossing Zanasha away like a rag-doll. Rudo, already in mid-leap, managed to twist out of the way by the slimmest of margins, but the inferno of power radiating from the elf drove him back, and he had to scramble for cover behind a stalagmite as three intertwined forks of plasma-like destruction obliterated the space where he'd been an instant before.

"Arc Ascendancy," the elf intoned flatly, beginning to stalk towards Topher with inevitable force; "Fulmination Blade." Lightning, hotter than the surface of the sun, crackled and swarmed all over his form. The floor beneath his boots began to glow and steam from the incandescent heat emanating from his body.

At the same time, Topher looked back again to see that the other assassin -- Lyria, I guess? had emerged from the cloud of blackness near the cavern ceiling and was now plummeting downwards, blades out and screaming, directly at Hana. Oh crap. We need to stop these guys --

With frightening suddenness and power, twin holes appeared in the foreheads of both Elkyll and Lyria.

Topher's jaw dropped open. Jesus.

The aura of power around the elf winked out; his abruptly normal sword fell from nerveless fingers, and his body slumped, twitching, to the half-melted stone of the cave floor. Topher stared, uncomprehending, as Hana jerked back from Lyria's massive, tree-like corpse as it slammed into the rock before her with enough force to crack it. "What... what..." the young Japanese woman muttered, shocked; on the far side of the cavern, Topher heard Rudo's feet quick-stepping towards something. Shit. More assassins?

He turned, expecting another suborned adventurer, or perhaps a monster. Shadows were dancing crazily as his mote -- his Wyrd, he realized finally -- flickered and scattered, impossibly fast, in every direction as a shadowy figure scrambled and dodged, evading each strike by a fraction of a hair's breadth. Topher opened his mouth, ready to shout the alarm, when he saw something that strangled and choked his voice dead in his throat.

The shadowy figure was Rudo. His Wyrd was attacking Rudo.

Desperate, Topher stumbled towards it, but it veered faster than thought back towards him in response; he swore, off-balance, as the tiny sun-like spark shot wildly beneath his upraised left foot (gouging a two-inch furrow of melted and dripping lava in the floor) and began to swirl insanely throughout the open air of the cave, savaging and blasting the stone with heat and force at every turn.

Too late, Topher realized what Kelfir had been trying to warn him about; recall that the majority of Metaphrasts perish from an excess of creativity, not its inverse. His Wyrd was alive, but uncontrolled; it responded to his will, but imperfectly, acting on his impulses and random thoughts with deadly force faster than he could exert more nuanced direction. And it was powerful enough to kill all four of them in seconds if he didn't get it under control.

Slipping with the speed of desperation into a Metaphrasty trance, he reached out with a band of akasha and caught the mote within, like snaring a rabid dog with a leash; it bucked, strained, fought against his control with furious power, and he could feel the bloodlust and killing intent of his unburied memories driving it from deep within his twisted and fractured subconscious. Being directly killed by my own self-loathing is kind of on-the-nose, isn't it? he thought grimly as he struggled to restrain the Wyrd. How the fuck do I do this?

You created it, observed the distant part of his mind. You should be able to uncreate it, too.

Striving mightily, he pulled his hands a little further apart, stretching the band of akasha further to loop more coils around the Wyrd; it squirmed, jerked, and spat out little sparks of rage as he contracted his will, burying the strands of his power into the cords and filaments of its essence. He could feel its impotent, directionless fury, instantly recognizable as his own, and an idea began to form in his mind; drawing his hands closer together, he pulled them in towards his chest as he grimly opened his own heart to its wrath.

It was hard; harder than he could ever have anticipated. His heart seemed to boil within him; his throat squeezed shut like invisible hands were strangling him. But, by degrees, the Wyrd became slower, less agitated; as his fingertips touched, his palms still straining away from the painful heat between them, he half-glimpsed the strange fractal space of the Metaphrastic realm around him, as though he were within the structure formed by the runic progression he'd used to give it life.

It's me, he realized forlornly. Every Wyrd I create is a piece of me, caged by a runic structure and sequence; and to stop it, I can't just unbind it; I have to kill it. Like murdering my own child. But, unfortunately, he knew that he could; the capacity within Topher for violence, for self-preservation at the cost of anyone else, was much deeper than he liked to admit. It was why he could forgive Hana; why he could forgive Cailu and Kelfir. I'm no different. We're the monsters.

Inexorably, bitterly, he reabsorbed what emotion and vitality he could from the Wyrd, and smothered the rest within the folds of his power; he felt it struggle, increasingly feebly, for long seconds before stuttering and disintegrating with desperate, miserable resignation. And after it was gone, the hollow ache in his heart remained; with the last of his strength, he pulled his hands apart and reemerged into awareness.

"Fuck," he gasped, his voice thick with unshed tears. "This place needs to tone down the melodrama."

The others hung back, wary and alert; Rudo was flourishing his glowing blue staff, while Hana administered a potion to Zanasha, who had apparently taken the worst of the damage from Elkyll's technique. But the half-orc, despite being singed and bruised, looked well enough; her eyes were fixed on Topher, and luminous with concern. "Friend Topher," she managed, coughing slightly, "I hope you do not believe me pestersome, but an explanation would be quite welcome."

Topher sighed. "Yeah. Once we're safe." He glanced around. "We get 'em? Any more?"

"Cloudseeker and the demoness are down," Rudo confirmed, stepping cautiously between Topher and the others, "but we should inspect the bodies more thoroughly before we relax our vigilance. We do not know what contingency plans they may have prepared."

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"Exploding corpse, sure, whatever." Topher grunted out the runes and summoned a Shield around himself -- I'm the only one who could survive a blast, I guess -- and bent to inspect the elf's body first. Hope I don't throw up.

Elkyll was definitely dead, he mused; the elf's limbs were limp and slack, and his lifeless face bore an expression of mild surprise, as though having his brains turned into high-velocity charcoal had been merely an unexpected and perplexing event rather than a terminal one. The heat from his Fulmination Blade Skill was already fading, and didn't appear to have damaged his equipment; hey, this guy might have decent loot, Topher thought, then felt ashamed of his cupidity. "Elkyll's dead for sure," he called out to the others, stepping away. "Seems safe. I'll go check on the other one."

As he crossed the cavern towards the other body, though, he noticed immediately that something was wrong; the corpse, whole when the killing blow had been struck, was already falling apart into chunks and severed limbs. Rapid decay? He blinked, leaning closer, and heard a familiar crackling noise which dragged cold claws down his spine; the scent of smoke filled his nostrils, and he bent lower to see the scraps of flesh and viscera disintegrating into ash and sparks. The fuck is this?

That centaur's corpse did the same thing, the distant part of his mind noted. Topher shook his head in confusion. "The demon's body is disintegrating," he called out in bewilderment, stepping away from the second corpse as well. "I think we're okay." He looked back at his companions, heartened slightly to see Hana helping Zanasha up; guess the damage wasn't too bad. "Think we should get outta Dodge? Or stick around to loot their stuff?"

"As powerful as their equipment might be," the older man responded, "we have no guarantee that they would be free from tracking or scrying enchantments. Perhaps it is best we simply move on." At his side, Hana and Zanasha nodded as well; the half-orc was already standing under her own power, albeit slightly unsteadily.

"Makes sense to me," Topher agreed. "Let's beat feet. We can talk about whatever all that was once we're somewhere less exposed; for now, the short version is that I'm not a threat. A spell got away from me; won't happen again."

Rudo chuckled. "Let us hope so. I suspect my SP are extremely low after evading your construct; I am fortunate I merely had to fight Miss Shirakane instead of you." He bowed (a little ironically, Topher thought) and moved ahead to scout; Hana trailed after him, while Zanasha hung back to walk alongside Topher.

At her nearness, all of Topher's fatigue vanished; his hands twitched with excitement, and he forced himself to stay calm. "Hey. You doing all right? You looked like you took a bad hit, there."

"My Skills and equipment protected me more than might have been apparent," the half-orc demurred. "Furthermore, I have been struck by lightning before. But what of you, Friend Topher? You were also struck down most worryingly."

Shit, that's right, Topher realized with a start. I got stabbed in the back. Wasn't I dying? "I don't really know what happened there," he admitted, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. "Did I get injured?" He twisted around, trying to see behind himself, but his cloak and general corpulence prevented him.

"You have the Improved Status Skill, do you not?" Zanasha reminded him gently. "Perhaps you may verify your HP directly."

"Oh. Right. Jesus, I'm dumb." Topher summoned his Status, wincing.

Name:

Christopher Bailey

Level:

30

Class:

Clerk

HP:

71/92

MP:

83/170

SP:

30/30

Strength:

Rank D

Dexterity:

Rank F

Constitution:

Rank C

Intelligence:

Rank D

Wisdom:

Rank D

Charisma:

Rank F

Skills:

Literacy (Rank D)

Mathematics (Rank C)

Cooking (Rank F)

Customer Service (Rank D)

Data Entry and Filing (Rank B)

Packaging and Shipping (Rank D)

Home Appliance Repair (Rank F)

Pen Spinning (Rank A)

[Disease Resistance (Rank C)]

[Poison Resistance (Rank C)]

[Obscure Location (Rank C)]

[Nondetection (Rank C)]

Special Skills:

Disrupt Illusion

Conjure Shield (Rank C)

Conjure Light (Rank F)

Improved Status

Summon Ledger

Remove Fatigue (Rank D)

Minor Sorcery (Rank C)

Summon Stylus

Sanctuary (Rank F)

Detect Status

Metaphrasty (Rank F)

Encrypt Document

[Pass Without Trace (Rank C)]

[Elemental Resistance (Rank C)]

[Damage Resistance (Rank C)]

[Status Resistance (Rank C)]

[Improved Mana (Rank D)]

Unique Skill:

Attract Object

He squinted at his stats, annoyed; he was too tired to focus his eyes well. You'd think it being only visible to me would make it automatically clear; isn't it all in my mind, anyway? Why would I even need glasses to see it? He shook his head, banishing the window. "Looks like I took about 21 damage; not too bad. Guess my shielding spells and Rudo's items protected me a little."

"It may have been an Assassin Skill," Zanasha ventured, looking contemplative. "Paralyzing Strike. I have suffered its effects before, as well."

"Jesus," blurted Topher, "how many different attacks have you been hit by?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he blushed, embarrassed; she's a Fighter, idiot. She's tough. You don't have to worry about her getting hurt.

Luckily, Zanasha didn't seem to notice his discomfiture; "A large amount," she answered without apparent concern. "As a front-line combatant, I prefer to take such attacks rather than have them harm allies who may be less... resilient." She chuckled. "I do not mind. I like..." -- she paused, searching for words -- "...guardianship. It makes me feel as though I am useful."

"How could you think you weren't useful?" Topher responded, flabbergasted. "You're super strong and fast. You've saved all our lives more times than I can count. You're really..." -- he almost said amazing and beautiful, but managed to stop himself -- "...great," he finished lamely. "Most of the time, I feel like I'm the useless one. I stand around and do nothing to conserve MP, and when I do try to help, I usually fuck it up." He crossed his arms, scowling. "Like how I nearly killed all of us back there."

"Friend Topher," the half-orc remonstrated gently, "you were powerful enough to kill both of our opponents before any of the rest of us even knew what had occurred. I am capable with a sword, but your power far eclipses mine." She tucked a lock of her hair behind an ear, looking apprehensive. "Please do not doubt your own importance. Though I may not understand what happened, I saw how it injured you to perform your art; though Hana-chan and Rudo are nervous, I do not believe they would wish you to think them ungrateful."

Topher snorted. "Lady, that's the last thing on my mind." He kicked at a rock, shoving his hands into his pockets; his muscles itched to be doing exercises, and he hoped they'd made camp soon. "I just want everybody to be safe. And knowing I'm a danger to my friends doesn't help."

They walked in silence for a short while; the half-orc seemed thoughtful, and Topher found his spirits were boosted simply from being near her. Being in love's a hell of a drug, he marveled, stealing glances at her whenever she looked away; the simple geometry of her neck, her hair, and her muscular body were pure perfection in his eyes. Even if she never looks my way, I can live with that. Jesus, what a woman.

Eventually, Zanasha seemed to come to a decision. "Friend Topher," she began -- a little reluctantly, he thought -- "I have a favor to ask."

"Sure," said Topher instantly, then scowled, annoyed with himself for being such a pushover. "What is it?"

"Hana-chan... appeared to know the demoness," the half-orc ventured, "but she has never spoken to me of such a name. Perhaps the two of you..." she trailed off, looking abashed.

The hell? "I mean, I can ask," Topher agreed, "but wouldn't she prefer to talk to you? I mean, you're her best friend."

"The situation is... difficult," Zanasha protested. "I believe she would feel most comfortable with you. For this, at least." She ducked his gaze, looking away.

"Well, if you think so," Topher sighed. Dunno what this is all about, but whatever might make her happy. "I'll go talk to her."

"That is well." The half-orc nodded, an unreadable look in her eyes, then appeared to become more alert. "I must scout our flanks and perimeter. Please excuse me." With a swirl of motion, she faded back and away into the shadows of the tunnel behind him; Topher noticed that her movements were much quieter than they had been in her previous platemail suit. Guess the new outfit is better for scouting, too.

Speeding up slightly, he caught up to Hana; the young Japanese woman was trudging along behind Rudo, her Flux Blade held ready at her side despite no sign of danger for the past half-hour. "Hey," he commented, startling her slightly; she flinched away from him, her sword twitching up into a guard position, and he raised his empty hands in placation. "Easy. Just checking on you."

The young woman sighed, dropping her guard. "I'm sorry. It's been..." she shook her head. "One thing after another. Muchenje-san says we'll make camp at the entrance to the fourth level; it's not far."

"Okay." Topher slowly lowered his hands, putting them back into his pockets as he fought down his fight-or-flight urge at being near Hana. "You doing okay? Seemed like you knew that... invisible assassin, or whatever it was."

Hana blew out a breath. "To be honest, I'm not really sure what I know. It's..." She ran a hand through her hair, looking frustrated. "Okay, help me go through everything that happened. You got laid out, while she was invisible, right?"

"Right." Topher winced, feeling a pang between his shoulderblades. "I thought I got stabbed, but Zanasha said it was probably a Skill. Paralyzing Strike, or something."

"You were stabbed," Hana corrected, "but your Defense nullified most of the damage. Probably with help from some of the items Muchenje-san gave you." Her expression turned thoughtful. "Still, you recovered fairly quickly. Do you have some form of resistance to status effects?"

Topher started. "Shit, yeah, I do. The items he slapped on me give me Status Resistance and Damage Resistance." He shook his head, feeling stupid. "The clothes and my Arch Shielding spell probably raise my Defense, too."

"Very likely." The young woman nodded, half to herself, and continued. "When I realized we were fighting someone invisible, I drank a potion -- Cat's Eye Concoction -- that let me see invisible creatures. I saw a horned figure in a cloak, and we fought." She grimaced. "I was badly outmatched."

"You held your own pretty well that I saw," Topher objected grudgingly. "Up until she talked."

"Yes." Hana's eyes flickered downward. "Her appearance was clearly demonic -- but her voice was not. It was the voice of the woman from the Gatekeepers who taught me the use of the Flux Blade -- Chaos Weapon Mastery -- whom I had thought to be an elf. Lyria Skysinger."

Topher winced again. "Jesus. So you had to kill another friend?" He ran a hand across his face, dismayed. "We're all gonna need so much fuckin' therapy after this."

"Bitter as it was," Hana gritted, bulling forward on the topic, "that is not what concerns me." She faced Topher squarely. "Bailey-sama, I think the demons can shapeshift."