B6 Chapter 641: The Pit, pt. 5

Helena looked down into the arena and watched Porkchop roll onto his back with a huff. His forelimbs straightened with the familiar sound of crackling bones. She smiled and shook her head — even for a vanguard of impossible talent, the greater beast's endurance was prodigious.

Chatter over took the crowd of the arena once more, and Gars slumped back into his seat beside her.

“Five hits from Angstrom. Bloody ridiculous," her teammate said through their communication network.

It certainly was — the blademaster was amongst the most lethal Platinums that operated in the southern duchies. Sure, it was a friendly bout, and Angstrom had avoided any truly deadly strikes. That hardly mattered when Porkchop had regenerated from wounds that would have crippled most.

“I do wonder how much health he had before that last hit,” Persellia asked, watching Porkchop closely. “Even with doubled resource values as a greater beast and an obscenely potent recovery skill, losing that much mass takes its toll.”

“Does that not make it all the more terrifying that he remained standing?” Helena asked.

No one answered. Down below, Porkchop lumbered to his feet as Angstrom cracked a smile at some unheard joke. It was quite the endorsement from the normally stoic warrior.

What little terrors they were. Everything she had seen from the front line fighters of the Tidebreakers suggested they were every bit as capable as the rumours had suggested. That itself was almost enough to leave her reeling. It had been impossible to believe at first. They’d come out of nowhere, climbing upwards with all the ferocity and violence of an erupting volcano. Then, if it wasn’t enough to reach Silver in what sounded like a scant handful of years, they bested a Tyrant too? And were some of the first to master Aspects and Refinement?

Half of the reason they returned Baanswell was to find out more about this Shardworld — but Helena could not deny that this team was a big reason too. By the time they had left the Caswods high-mana zone, the rumours had already spread to remote towns on the eastern rim of the Dukedoms.

Helena would have been shocked if they had matched even a fifth of the rumours in person. Yet it seemed that for once in the history of the world, the stories flowing out of the Frontier had been understated.

They might have lacked the breadth of Skills and Skill levels of a High Gold, but the ones they did have were monstrous. Porkchop’s armour was too tough, and the hungry flames that had coated Kaius too full of energy. That spoke to a power that extended beyond the simple bonus stats of Honours.

Down below, Porkchop’s armour vanished with a subtle pop. He ambled closer, leaping up to the stands with a single bound — though Helena was pretty sure he could have reached the railing if he’d just stood on his hind legs. She watched as Kaius welcomed his brother with open arms, slapping Porkchop on the chest as he joked about the beast being made of wicker and paper.

Did they have Heroic classes? It would explain the potency of their skills. Even if such a rarity was practically unheard of in the second tier, or at all, so was the sort of rise they’d had through the first. If they had reached that rarity, embodying their Aspects must have been key for obtaining them.

Given everything she’d seen, and the simple potency she’d felt from their Authority, it made Helena all the more certain she’d made the right call on pursuing their Aspects. If they’d had that, ambushing the Tyrant they’d tracked to the Cadswods would have been far less fraught. At least it secured them two Droplets, and it seemed like the Shardworld would have what they needed for the rest. Even if it did mean a change in plans. She’d hoped they could advance as a single unit, like they did with Class Evolution, but if the high-essence zones were as dire as Guilewind warned, they needed defences. As the front line, Gars and Nemtep would be getting a head start — she and Persellia would have to wait. They should do better than most with their guerilla approach to combat, anyway.

Helena glanced over to the Tidebreakers again. They jostled and joked, utterly unconcerned that both members of their frontline had been repeatedly eviscerated in the last quarter hour — but she could see Kenva and Ianmus sending curious looks through the crowd. Where did they fit in? It was clear that Kaius and Porkchop were the linchpin and anchor of the team, but that only made it harder to tell if the other two could stand on their own feet.

“What do you think of the last two?” she asked her team.

“They’ve got substance to them,” Persellia replied. “Supposedly the mage has been with them since day one, and the aen is a Zdhan — that clan has produced some terrifying rangers. They would have to be capable to simply survive what they’ve been through, and it looks like they’ve done far more than that.”

Gars nodded subtly. “They’ve kept up on the Refinement front, and let's not forget that Ianmus has also pioneered new magic. It’ll be hard for them to show off, though — an enclosed arena doesn’t exactly play to either of their strengths.”

“Then I will test the girl, and see how she stands alone and outside of her comfort zone,” Nemtep said sternly, his expression unchanged.

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Helena turned and cocked her brow at the man. He was a reaver! Not only was he practically the natural enemy of a ranged combatant, but the engagement range and the arena itself played to his strengths.

“Don’t be too mean!”

The man just grunted and got to his feet.

…

Howling death shot toward Nemtep. He growled, dashing to the side before the glowing arrow could skewer him through the chest. Three more followed in an eyeblink, each one perfectly placed to cut off his advance.

Perhaps it had been a bad idea to give the girl the grace of starting their match from opposite edges of the Pit. But she wasn’t the only one who could bring the terror of distant death.

Focused utterly on his opponent, he watched Kenva blast across the sands in constant motion, almost impossible to track. She snapped her bow back into a full draw, loosing another shot. It crossed the sands in an instant to detonate into a hail of ripping shards.

Stomping his foot, he raised a wall with Leashed Sandstorm. Shards smashed into the barrier, blowing out cones of sand as they ripped straight through. Sliding low, he used the cover to rip three knives from his belt. Mana surged into the projectiles, wrapping them in Unseen Viper-strike. He wasn’t surprised the ranger had shot through his cover. Sandstorm wasn’t meant for defence, and Kenva was built to crack armour.

Kicking of again, he changed direction and dove through the wall. He locked onto his target, hurling all three of his blades towards the distant ranger. They accelerated with a savage crack, vanishing from sight as his skill went to work.

Yet his foe was wily. Kenva vanished like the breeze, rematerialising less than a stride away at full draw. One of his knives ripped past her back, tousselling her red hair in its back draft. She didn’t even flinch.

Their dance continued. It was proving far more troublesome of a duel than he anticipated. He’d thought himself clever suggesting they fight to the first proper wound. First blood wouldn’t have worked at their level of battle, and he had wanted to give her an opportunity to show off. He just didn’t expect her to be so hells’ damned accurate.

He hurled another blade. It clanged, smashed aside by an arrow mid flight. Another followed, surrounded by a wreath of screaming wind and charged with violent power. It kicked up the sand, revealing the glint of a dozen fallen knives. Nemtep’s heart quickened.

Dissolving into a gust of sand, he flashed over the shot before it could throw off his rhythm. Snapping back into reality, he hurled more knives. Both missed, sinking into the sand — joining the collection he could feel through Glinting Deathswarm.

She really was better at this than him. It made sense, she was a ranger, and he was not — but it was time to see how she would handle playing to his tune.

Mana erupted as Nemtep hurled everything he had into Leashed Sandstorm. The arena floor exploded, multiplying into a whirling maelstrom of tearing grains that swallowed the Pit hole. He heard the ranger curse, and felt her flinch as his skill ripped at her exposed skin. She was blind, but he could feel the shape of their battle.

Drawing the longknives on his hip, he activated DjinnicMantle and dissolved into the whipping sands. Bit by bit, he drew closer, ready to spring his many-bladed trap.

….

Kaius let out a low whistle as a sandstorm swallowed the arena whole. Magic soaked through every grain of the typhoon, cutting a scouring path. There was an obfuscating component too, he could feel it like a pressure on the back of his eyes, though Truesight crushed it with ease.

That said, his skill couldn’t see through solid objects, and with so much fine particulates swirling through the air his view of the battle grew hazy and indistinct. Kenva, as he expected, reacted immediately. Dense bark grew over her skin as mana burned in her soul. Dryadic Wreath fuelled her movements, each vengeful step hurling her through the storm. She had an arrow knocked and ready.

The Gold definitely wasn’t pulling his punches. That was good — Kenva would have complained for a week if he did.

Helena huffed from her seat. “I told him not to be mean!”

“I wouldn’t count her out just yet,” Kaius replied, tracking a gust of especially mana dense sand as it rushed toward his friend.

…

Kenva hissed in frustration as sand scoured every scrap of her exposed skin. Shattered bloody axles, it felt like being worked over with a wire brush. At least it couldn’t get in her eyes when they were shut. Not like she could see much anyway.

Not for the first time, she felt more than a little jealous of Kaius’s Truesight — but her own ocular skill had its advantages.

Running blind through the dark, she felt the tension in her bow string, and stayed ready. Nemtep was coming, she knew it.

All at once, a dozen bright points of mana erupted through the dark, standing out against the swirling magic of the storm. The blades! They tore towards her, the motion spiking her heart rate. She read their trajectories in an instant. It was a ruin that came from every angle. Some blades flew high and some wide — perfectly positioned to cut her off.

But no attack was perfect, and there was no way the attack was anything more than a distraction.

Surging upwards with a burst of Leaf on the Wind, Kenva rematerialised and flung herself into a tight pirouette. Two blades flew parallel to her back, missing the back of her skull by a hair's breadth, a third sliced past her eyes, and a fourth narrowly missed her foot. She drew, calling on the devastation of Howl of the North Wind.

Soulfire bloomed in the dark, racing towards her. She laughed and loosed, barely noticing the sand that filled her mouth.