11 Chapter 11, Real and Fake
Of the four Deadlords, two were the same Risen from the Plegian auction house, while new ones were female. One wore Chon'sin style armor, while the other was dressed in light plate mail with a high-collared cloak.
[Structural Analysis] told me exactly how screwed we were.
NAME: Simia, of the 12 Deadlords
AGE: ERROR
CLASS: Swordmaster
LEVEL: 15
EXP: - / 100
HIT POINTS: 51 / 51
STRENGTH: 24
MAGIC: 5
SKILL: 29
SPEED: 32 (+5)
LUCK: 28
DEFENSE: 19
RESISTANCE: 18
STATUS: ERROR
NAME: Anguilla, of the 12 Deadlords
AGE: ERROR
CLASS: Dark Knight
LEVEL: 15
EXP: - / 100
HIT POINTS: 55 / 55
STRENGTH: 20
MAGIC: 25
SKILL: 29 (+5)
SPEED: 21
LUCK: 14
DEFENSE: 25
RESISTANCE: 18
STATUS: ERROR
They were both incredibly powerful, their cumulative base stats exceeding my own. While I might've been able to match one of them in lone combat, I was woefully outnumbered now.
And the Warrior Deadlord, who'd been accompanying Aversa and Draco in the auction house, was no slouch either.
NAME: Tigris, of the 12 Deadlords
AGE: ERROR
CLASS: Warrior
LEVEL: 15
EXP: - / 100
HIT POINTS: 58 / 58
STRENGTH: 31
MAGIC: 1
SKILL: 26
SPEED: 22
LUCK: 24
DEFENSE: 27 (+5)
RESISTANCE: 12
STATUS: ERROR
God damn shit, all the Deadlords had a skill attribute over 25, meaning they could all see through the Stone Mask's invisibility. The only one who couldn't was Aversa.
"You're like a bad fucking rash, you know that?" I growled, my body as tense as a coiled spring.
"My, my, such hurtful words. Last we met you ran with such fervor I almost believed you didn't want to be anywhere near me," Aversa sighed with faux-hurt, all while stroking her pale lips. "How discourteous of you, to steal away my wayward sister on the cusp of our most glorious reunion."
Robin appeared beside me, having taken off the Stone Mask so all could see her pale disbelief. "S-Sister? Are … are you saying …?"
"Well, not by blood," Aversa admitted with playful regret. "I was adopted. Master Validar saved my wretched orphaned self from the slums and taught me everything I know. I owe him everything, and would gladly die for his happiness. But there's no need for that, as I already know what would bring him the greatest joy of all: your return, dear sister."
"Don't call me that!" Robin raged. "You are not my sister, and I will never acknowledge the likes of Validar as my father!"
A flint of steel crossed Aversa's gaze.
"Oy, oy, why beautiful sisters be fighting? Family should be making merry!" Gregor said, trying to interject a bit of levity. He'd no idea what sort of situation we were in.
No, that was wrong. I noticed a trickle of perspiration gliding down the side of his temple, and he was unconsciously gripping the handle of his sheathed sword with a dead man's grip. The veteran mercenary knew our adversaries were incredibly dangerous, and was trying to put them off guard with banter.
"Believe me, I'm ecstatic to see my baby sister," Aversa purred as the Deadlords spread out beside her. Nowi nervously shuffled towards our side, pawing at the ground with her talons, while Robin continued to glare daggers at Validar's protégé. "Oh, but I was adopted after you were born, so that makes you my big sister!"
"Stop calling me that!" Robin angrily whipped out her Levin Sword. "How did you even know to come here?"
"Hmm? Why it's quite simple, dear sister. Master Validar's always saying how any child of his would be stronger and smarter than the rest of the common rabble. It's why he always believed you were out there somewhere, alive and well, even after your treacherous mother's betrayal." We all heard Robin gritting her teeth. "So I asked myself: would Master Validar's clever little girl really commit to such an obvious ploy of escaping to Ylisse? I think not. Hence, while Master Validar took the bulk of the Grimleal to the remains of Border Pass, I elected to come here. Do you have any idea how long you've made me wait, you naughty little girl? Why, I had to entertain myself by hiring local mercenaries to watch the area while I languished in boredom!"
She was toying with us. Aversa knew her Deadlords outclassed nearly all of us, and was waving that superiority in our faces. She was confident any battle would lead to her inevitable victory, thus was taking the time to play with her prey.
Especially Robin. I saw how every word she spoke was deliberately designed to get underneath Robin's skin, from how she saw through Robin's escape plan to constantly reminding my friend of her strange familial ties. Aversa was purposely riling Robin up, because anger led to mistakes.
"That doesn't explain how you got here to quickly," Robin spat past grit teeth.
"Now, now, my sister," Aversa smirked, "Secrets are the spice of life."
The cold claws of dread dragged down my back. I had a horrible feeling I knew exactly what the witch was alluding to: Warp magic. I recalled how enemy units could literally teleport onto battlefields, a gimmick used to set up engagements in the game. But what if Plegia had free access to such ludicrous magic? What were its limitations? Could Validar and a fucking Risen army instantly surround us at a snap of Aversa's fingers? No, if it was that versatile Robin, Nowi, and I would've never escaped from the Plegian capital in the first place. There were limitations, there had to be.
"Well, at least the tedium has come to an end," Aversa hummed. "Dear Gregor, I thought you were a gentleman. It's rude to abandon a lady in the middle of a date. I think a few lashes will straighten that horrible attitude; a couple hundred or so."
Gregor laughed without fear. "Gregor usually not turn down beautiful lady wanting to make with the kinky-kinky, but Gregor is sellsword. Loyalty is to employer who pays most gold."
"Is that so? And if I offer you five times the Fiend's commission?"
"Very sorry, but would turn down."
Aversa raised a slender eyebrow. "Really? After you just said you'd follow the highest paying customer?"
"Gregor also follow his gut. Stomach not liking you when first showed. Now?" His eyes bounced between the four inhuman Deadlords. "Belly is doing bad dance without tippy-tap shoes, giving Gregor the indigestion."
"Hmm, a pity, but ultimately no great loss."
"Oy! Is very hurtful to hear!"
"As for you," her provocative gaze landed on me, "the infamous Silent Fiend. On behalf of the Grimleal, I must convey my most sincere gratitude."
I fought to keep my hands from shaking. "I don't recall doing anything deserving of your thanks."
"Oh, but you've been aiding Master Validar so much!" Aversa giggled to my growing dread. "Killing the bandits Plegia hired to harass Ylisse? Undoing all King Gangrel's hard work to have the Exalt thrown from her own lands? Finding and slaying nearly all the spies he's sent into the halidom? With every failure, our poor monarch grew ever more desperate, and all the more reliant on the devout followers of the Fell Dragon. Before, the silly man was only putting a token effort towards aiding us, a bit of lip service here and there. Today, the Grimleal are the true ruling power behind the throne."
I wanted to puke. This was one of my earlier fears, when I was first dropped in Awakening: not merely changing the timeline, but tripping over dominoes that somehow helped strengthen the Shepard's enemies.
"But your greatest contribution? Bringing my long lost sister home."
"That wasn't him! That was me!" Robin shouted angrily. "I wanted to come here so we could kill Validar!"
This time Aversa couldn't fully conceal her flash of hatred, briefly contorting her stunning features into an snarl promising violence. "My, my what a cruel thing to say about your own loving father. Don't you know Master Validar only wants what's best for you? I see your crone of a mother has thoroughly filled your head with poison and lies."
"Don't you dare talk about my mother that way!"
Aversa shrugged, brushing away a stray strand of white hair. "No matter. All will be made well once Master Validar awakens the real you."
I'd never seen Robin go so pale so fast.
"But as helpful as you've been," Aversa resumed speaking to me, "you can't be allowed to exist any longer. Your potential for harm against the Grimleal is too great for us to ignore. King Gangrel wants your head on a pike that he can parade throughout Ylisse for all the fools to see, but why waste such outstanding material? I say you'd make a wonderful Risen. Why, you could even be our 13th Deadlord."
The four Deadlords in attendance showed no reaction to Aversa's words.
But they knocked Robin out of her stupor in a flash."You're not laying a hand on anyone!"
"Y-Yeah!" Nowi roared, trying to quell her own fears. "You don't wanna mess with this dragon!"
"Oh, but I think I do," Aversa said with bloodthirsty anticipation. "You all require such disciplining, especially the one who set back the Grimleal's grand designs by years. After you've fully embraced your birthright, sister, I'm certain you'll be more than willing to share the hiding hole of the traitorous harlot Master Validar deigned to bless with his seed."
It was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Enraged beyond reason, Robin blindly ran at Aversa with a scream, Levin Sword in one hand and her tome of Elfire in the other; the Stone Mask was dropped and forgotten.
I tried to stop her, reach out and slap some sense into her if that's what it took, but the Deadlords were faster. They drew their weapons, each unique in design, and ran … past Robin? They were ignoring her, and charging at Nowi, Gregor, and me!
Shit! This was Aversa's plan from the beginning! Provoke Robin into attacking her while the Deadlords handled the rest of us!
I put Robin's mask in my Inventory before Simia, the Swordmaster, darted towards me like an arrow, her curved sword clashing against Ragnell. We were evenly matched, and I took the opportunity to use [Structural Analysis] on her weapon.
[Balmung (Antique), Rank: A]
The divine sword of the royal family of the Kingdom of Isaach, and one of the 12 Holy Weapons of Jugdral. Wielded by the Crusader Od, the Sword Saint, it has since been passed down through the royal Isaach family. While its power has waned over the millennia, it still convers a boost of SPEED to any who wield it.
Might: 13
Hit Rate: 90%
Critical: 10%
Durability: 25/25
Magic Cost: 2
[<Balmung (Antique), Rank: A> has been added to the SYSTEM's Catalogue!]
The undead Swordmaster connected a harsh kick to my stomach, pushing me back and nearly knocking me off my feet. I barely had time to recover before the Risen was atop of me once more, unleashing a flurry of slashes so fast I needed Bullet Time to track them all. This undead moved like a hurricane, her natural speed further enhanced by the weapon she swung.
How in the Nine Hells did the Grimleal find a divine weapon from an age long past?
Bah, questions later! Fight now!
[Reinforcement]!
STRENGTH: 34 (+10)
MAGIC: 0 (-6, Projection) (-10)
SKILL: 31 (+10)
SPEED: 29 (+10)
LUCK: 0
DEFENSE: 31 (+15)
RESISTANCE: 35 (+15)
I dumped every last bit of my magic into fortifying myself, making my magic circuits shine with power. When Ragnell connected with Balmung once more, I blew the damn Risen away with a powerful swing.
It gave me some breathing room, and a chance to check on Nowi and Gregor.
My blood went cold.
Nowi tried to burn Tigris, the Warrior, with a stream of dragon fire, but the Deadlord ducked underneath the flames before burying its axe in the Manakete's chest, rending scales and flesh with horrendous ease. Nowi's scream shook the earth as verdant blood gushed from the debilitating wound.
To cut through dragon scales like butter, that wasn't an ordinary axe!
I immediately scanned it.
[Helswath (Antique), Rank: A]
The sacred axe of house Dozel, and one of the 12 Holy Weapons of Jugdral. Wielded by the Crusader Nál, the Axeman, it has since been passed down through the dukedom of Dozel. While its power has waned over the millennia, it still convers a boost of DEFENSE to any who wield it.
Might: 18
Hit Rate: 60%
Critical: 10%
Durability: 25/25
Magic Cost: 2
[<Helswath (Antique), Rank: A> has been added to the SYSTEM's Catalogue!]
Another pseudo-legendary weapon?!
As Nowi collapsed, barely twitching to show she still clung to life, Gregor roared as he tried to repel the Deadlord Warrior. He fought smart, refusing to engage in a contest of strength with Tigris, but it wasn't enough. As Gregor barely ducked beneath a decapitating blow, an arrow penetrated his right thigh.
It was from Draco, the Bow Knight, brandishing the bow Yewfelle.
[Yewfelle (Antique), Rank: A]
The sacred bow of house Yngvi, and one of the 12 Holy Weapons of Jugdral. Wielded by the Crusader Ullr, the Bowmaster, it has since been passed down through the dukedom of Yngvi. While its power has waned over the millennia, it still convers a boost of SPEED to any who wield it.
Might: 15
Hit Rate: 85%
Critical: 10%
Durability: 25/25
Magic Cost: 2
[<Yewfelle (Antique), Rank: A> has been added to the SYSTEM's Catalogue!]
Was there a fucking bargain sale I missed?!
Gregor staggered, but refused to fall. He actually succeeded in deflecting the next arrow fired his way, though the overwhelming force behind it knocked his sword from his hands.
I had to help! I raced towards Nowi and Gregor, until I felt so much static build in the air that my hairs stood on end. I ducked out of instinct, narrowly avoiding a terrifyingly large bolt of lightning that split the air above me.
Rolling to my feet, I snarled at my attacker: Anguilla, the Dark Knight, and her tome of choice: Mjölnir.
[Mjölnir (Antique), Rank: A]
The divine Lightning magic of house Friege, and one of the 12 Holy Weapons of Jugdral. Wielded by the Crusader Thrud, the Mage Knight, it has since been passed down through the dukedom of Friege. While its power has waned over the millennia, it still convers a boost of SKILL to any who wield it.
Might: 18
Hit Rate: 70%
Critical: 20%
Durability: 25/25
Magic Cost: 2
[<Mjölnir (Antique), Rank: A> has been added to the SYSTEM's Catalogue!]
Draco continued his attack on Gregor while I'd been stalled, burying more arrows into the mercenary's leg, both arms, and finally the center of his chest.
"Ho ho …" Gregor coughed, blood leaking from his mouth as he cracked one last smile, "… was … good ride …"
Like a hewn oak tree, he fell.
Shit, shit, SHIT!
I didn't even have time to mourn Gregor's death as I saw Tigris approach Nowi, his axe—practically a halberd with the length of its haft—raised in preparation to decapitate her.
Like hell I'd let him!
I rushed towards the Deadlord. Simia leapt in my way, and I tried to smash her aside. She lithely dodged, and slashed Balmung across my stomach. My [Reinforcement] and Ragnell (Enhanced)'s boost to my defense reduced the damage to a shallow cut, so I continued barreling past the Swordmaster. Anguilla readied another deadly bolt of lightning, and I interrupted her by launching a burst of azure fire from Ragnell at the Dark Knight.
Draco exploited that opportunity, shooting an arrow into the back of my left hand, the tip of the arrowhead poking through my palm and forcing me to drop Ragnell. I powered through the pain, taking out the Silver Greatbow and an ordinary steel sword from my Inventory. I Altered the sword into an steel sword-arrow and notched it.
My vision expanded. Tigris' Helswath was starting to descend on Nowi's serpentine neck, while Draco was already aiming a second arrow at me. Unable to attack them both at once, I was forced to choose.
I fired at Tigris without hesitation, my sword-arrow drilling through the air. At the same time, Draco shot his arrow directly at my head.
The Deadlord Warrior realized he was in peril and shielded himself with his divine axe. My sword-arrow SMASHed into the flat head of the weapon, blasting Tigris away as if he'd been rammed by a runaway tank.
Draco's arrow hit me between the eyes; specifically, the Keaton Mask's slanted eyes. It bounced off the indestructible mask, saving me from instant death, but still rattled my head like I'd been brained by a hammer.
I threw aside my greatbow, dismissed the Projection of Ragnell I'd dropped, and Traced another copy in my right hand. With a hoarse cry, I swung it downward, shooting a beam of flames at the Deadlord Bow Knight. My aim was off, courtesy of my spinning eyes, letting the undead archer hop out of the way with minimal effort.
Still, I succeeded in saving Nowi, at least for now. Glancing at the downed Manakete, I saw she was barely clinging to consciousness while her grievous chest wound continued to hemorrhage. I needed to patch her up fast, lest she bleed to death. I could lower my [Reinforcement] just enough to Trace a Heal stave and—
Simia practically teleported before me, subjecting me to a frenzy of stabs and slashes. I parried and dodged what I could, relying on my [Reinforcement], my knowledge of her fighting style when I searched Balmung's history, and Bullet Time to avoid major injury. But despite my advantages I was still down an arm; my left hand with the fucking arrow sticking out of it.
Then she suddenly disengaged, allowing Tigris to storm right up to me. He gripped Helswath tightly in his hands before swinging the axe with all his might. I couldn't block that with one hand, so I dodged … right into Draco's arrow, burrowing itself in my hip.
I didn't even have time to register the pain before Anguilla unleashed an array of lightning bolts upon me, trading power for area-of-effect. Dozens of bolts missed by a mile, but few hit true, zapping my right arm, chest, and left leg. I grit my teeth as the piercing burn of electrocution ran rampant through my nerves. Sections of my jerkin were burnt to crisps while charring the skin and tissue underneath. My Reinforced resistance kept the damage from being worse, but it was still bad.
[HIT POINTS: 19 / 46]
"He StIlL lIvEs," Tigris said. Despite his mechanical tone, I heard a hint of surprise.
"We DiD nOt HoLd BaCk," Draco added, standing beside his fellow Deadlord.
"He Is StRoNg," Anguilla agreed clinically.
"BuT hE rEmAiNs OuTnUmBeReD. tHe OuTcOmE sHaLl Be UnChAnGeD," Simia declared.
"WhAt Of ThE dRaGoN?"
"It'S eNd WiLl CoMe WiTh TiMe, LeAvE iT."
"FoCuS oN oUr CoMmEnDaBlE fOe."
"ThE mAsTeR dEmAnDs HiS dEaTh, So It ShAlL bE."
Bastards were surprisingly chatty for a bunch of Risen. I thrust Ragnell into the ground, leaning on it heavily for support. My condition was trash, and I'd barely landed a hit on any of the Deadlords. I almost laughed at how bleak the prospects of victory were. Was this it? Was I going to die here? To my surprise, a much greater fear dominated my heart: what of Robin and Nowi? I couldn't do anything for Gregor, a thought that filled my mouth with bile, and Nowi was slowly bleeding out. What of Robin? The Deadlords were between me and her, but while I couldn't see her I still heard her battle raging against Aversa.
If I wanted to help her, I needed to beat these undead assholes first!
If my own power wasn't enough, then it was time to bring out Plan Z. I only hoped Robin and Nowi were spared the evil god's wrath, as Annabelle was.
I ripped out the arrow perforating my left hand, splattering blood everywhere, then brought my palm towards my face as I opened my Inventory and prepared to equip the Fierce Deity's—
An arrow slammed into my left shoulder, deadening the whole arm.
Draco continued to watch me like a hawk, his bow poised to release another attack.
"EnD hIm. Do NoT gIvE hIm A cHaNcE tO rEtAlIaTe."
"AgReEd."
Tigris and Simia darted towards me, while Draco and Anguilla maintained their distance.
Snarling, I tried to back away, to give myself time to use my ultimate trump card. Yet even while Reinforced, the undead bitch was faster than me! She closed the gap in the blink of an eye, forcing me to raise Ragnell to stop her Balmung from lopping off my head. I tried to bisect Simia down the middle, but Tigris blocked my blade with Helswath; the Swordmaster took that opening to slash Balmung across my chest, cutting through skin and flesh and nearly reaching bone.
Fighting through the pain, I gripped Ragnell with both my bloody hands and hacked and slashed at the Deadlords, desperate to land a critical strike.
The two Risen were a well-oiled machine, constantly covering for one another with impossible precision. Tigris mainly focused on intercepting my attacks, allowing Simia to exploit the openings. It was a simple but effective use of teamwork, one I couldn't brute force my way through. Instead, the Deadlords scored a plethora of slashes on me.
Damn it!
Failing a frontal assault I tried to distance myself again, only for Draco to put an arrow in my left thigh. As I stumbled, the Deadlord Bow Knight swiftly fired another, this one heading for my heart. I barely saw it coming with Bullet Time, and furiously twisted my body to put it out of harm's way. It wasn't enough, and the arrow went into my other shoulder.
God damn it!!
Tigris and Simia were on me in an instant. This time, I was forced on the defensive, barely surviving their combined onslaught. Simia's Balmung tasted my blood thrice more; Tigris' Helswath nearly cleaved off my right arm; Draco nailed me with three more arrows, each missing a vital organ by centimeters.
Damn it all!!!
But I couldn't stop! Couldn't give up! I didn't know how I was going to win, only that I refused to lose when the others needed me! I forced myself to keep fighting … and fighting … and fighting!
Then Simia slipped past my guard and thrust Balmung hilt deep into my abdomen, nearly nicking my spine as the tip of the blade burst out my back.
I gurgled, feeling blood well up my throat and out my mouth upon my impalement.
But I kept fighting!!! I grabbed Simia's wrist, keeping Balmung lodged in me, and brought Ragnell down on the Swordmaster—!
—and watched Tigris catch it with Helswath before slamming one of his giant fists into my face, nearly knocking my consciousness clean out of my head.
Yet I held on; enduring with nothing but grit and bloody teeth.
"FaLl BaCk," Tigris commanded, and Simia obeyed. She released Balmung, leaving it sticking out of me as the two Deadlords retreated.
Why?
Then I heard the boom of thunder, and saw Anguilla had been preparing a powerful spell this entire time.
"MjÖlNiR."
Lightning came crashing down from the Heavens like the wrath of Thor, and engulfed me in my entirety.
Pain. Pain unlike anything I'd ever felt ripped across every nerve I had. My muscles tore themselves apart in violent spasms, the electric shock seared my flesh until it sizzled and burned, and my blood boiled in my veins as I screamed.
~
Robin tried everything within her power to wipe the smile off Aversa's smug face, yet Validar's pet maneuvered around every swing of her Levin Sword. No matter what technique or trick she employed, Aversa was too fast and knowledgeable to let herself be hit.
Abandoning melee, Robin resorted to magic, hurling a fireball fueled with all her anger at the Grimleal. Aversa merely smirked as she raised a hand a conjured a cloud of darkness, enveloping Robin's spell and smothering it with a squeeze of her hand.
"Is this truly all you are, dear sister?" Aversa chided, blowing the smoke off her fingers. "How positively disappointing. I'm relieved Master Validar isn't here, your father would be beyond disappointed by this pathetic display."
"Stop calling him my father!" Robin screamed, throwing aside her Elfire tome and grabbing her Levin Sword with both hands so she could shove it through Aversa's forked mouth.
And Aversa caught it, pinning the tip of the blade between her index and middle fingers.
Robin was nearly stunned out of her rage. Thin tendrils of dark magic spread across Aversa's digits, likely enhancing her strength beyond her ordinary limits the same way the Guardian's Reinforcement did.
"Such an unfilial daughter," Aversa mocked, grasping the Levin Sword's blade with her shadow-covered hand. "I do believe punishment is in order."
The Grimleal squeezed, and Robin watched in horror as the Guardian's Projection was destroyed, reduced to motes of emerald light.
Her Levin Sword, which she'd carried with her for nearly four years, the proof of her bond with her closest friend, disappeared before her very eyes.
Cackling, Aversa reached forward and wrapped one of her dainty hands around Robin's throat. It was like an iron vice, unyielding and unbreakable. She choked as Aversa further asserted her dominance by easily lifting Robin with but one slender arm.
"Did you think I was physically feeble because I prefer magic?" Aversa teased, watching as Robin struggled to breathe. She gripped the offending arm, smacked it with her fists, yet it was like punching steel plating. "There was a reason Master Validar chose me as his protégé. He calls it Shadowgift, an innate talent that allows me to wield dark magic in ways even senior sorcerers would envy. Giving myself a bit of brutish strength is but one delicious application."
Robin could barely hear Aversa brag. She wasn't getting enough oxygen to her brain. Her vision was growing cloudy; she was slowly passing out.
"Not listening? My, how rude."
Aversa dropped Robin, yet at the same time she inhaled a staggering gust of fresh air, the Grimleal gleefully rammed a shadow-empowered knee into Robin's gut, painfully shoving the wind back out.
Robin collapsed, clutching her stomach as she unconsciously curled into herself, struggling with every rasp of air. With the pain numbing the anger, she grasped how stupid she'd been. Aversa's words, her mannerisms; everything she'd done was to pull Robin's levers and make her sloppy.
Her mother would've scolded her ear off for falling for such an obvious rouse.
Aversa kicked her over, then placed a heeled boot against Robin's wheezing chest, pinning her against the ground.
"Why do you resist so, sister?" Aversa asked, playing up her confusion. "Don't you see how you've been wronged all your life? Had your mother not been such a treacherous harlot, you would've been raised wanting nothing. The finest food, the greatest luxuries, the best education would've been all yours and more. You're more than a mere high noble of Plegia: you're the Heart of Grima, the Vessel for his true resurrection. You would've been made Hierophant of the Grimleal, and had you but asked your loyal subjects would've handed you the throne as well. And it can all still be yours. You need only cease this meaningless display of childish resistance and accept your glorious destiny."
Robin grabbed Aversa's foot, trying to push it off. Useless. It too was empowered by the witch's foul magic. "You're … a fool! The Grimleal … Validar … want to revive … the Fell Dragon! It'll be … the end of the world!"
Aversa merely shrugged carelessly. "Master Validar is my world, and if he desires the Fell Dragon's resurrection then I will see his goal achieved no matter the cost."
Then they both heard a deluge of lightning raining upon the earth, blasting small craters everywhere it struck. Craning her head, Robin wept when she saw the Guardian, her friend, being relentless harried by the Grimleal's Risen. She always believed the Guardian to be the strongest, incapable of defeat, yet that fantasy was steadily being chipped away with every wound he was dealt. He fought his hardest, yet he couldn't overcome the difference in numbers.
Couldn't someone help him? Nowi? The mercenary? Then she saw the dragon, perilously close to death, and Gregor, slumped by the Manakete's side and filled with arrows.
There was no one else.
Robin almost felt every injury the Guardian suffered as if they were her own. He was only here because of her selfishness, and now he was dying for it.
"Please …!" Robin begged, unable to keep watching as her dearest friend was being torn apart. "Please stop! Don't kill him!"
Aversa taunted her by pretending to consider. "Hmm … nope!" She sarcastically popped the 'P'. "I'm afraid I can't take your sweet request under consideration, sister. The Silent Fiend is too dangerous to let live. That he's survived this long against four of our Deadlords at once is a testament to his tenacity. But don't worry, we'll take wonderful care of his corpse. He'll make a fantastic addition to our ranks. Why, you could even take him as your personal servant!"
"No! No, no, no!" Robin cried, the fear and frustration so thick and cloying it was suffocating.
"Aw, is my precious baby sister crying?" Aversa teased, reaching down to wipe one of Robin's falling tears with a pinky. "Could it be? Do you have feelings for the man? Is it love? How sickeningly adorable!"
"Stop! PLEASE JUST STOP!"
"Ha, ha, ha! Oh, by all means! Beg some more! Scream for me! Show me exactly how powerless you are!"
A colossal tower of lightning fell from the sky, dropping like the fist of an angry god and crushing the Guardian. Robin couldn't even hear herself wail over the roar of thunder, the magic so blinding she couldn't keep her eyes open.
When it was over, her closest friend stood in the epicenter of a smoking basin, the soil around him charred black. His shirt had been burnt away into ash; his entire body was cracked like dry clay and smoking; there was a sword sticking out of his stomach.
And Robin howled in anguish as he lifelessly toppled over.
Her agony was only exacerbated by Aversa's peals of triumphant laughter.
"And so ends Ylisse's precious Guardian of the Halidom," Aversa said, smiling savagely. "In the end, none can stand before the might of the Grimleal."
Robin couldn't muster up a retort, not with the cavernous hole where her heart once beat.
Died.
He was dead.
Her friend died because of her.
Robin didn't think she was capable of crying any harder; she was wrong, as her racking sobs deepened with the pit in her soul.
"Oh, do be quiet," Aversa scolded, digging her heel deeper into Robin's chest, cutting off her cries with a gasp of pain. "Stow those meaningless tears. Don't you already know? Nothing you currently feel matters in the end."
Robin stared up at the witch with hollow eyes.
"Had you been raised in Plegia, you could've been properly prepared for your destiny. You know you're the Fell Dragon's Vessel, correct? Then you also know that this"—she gestured at Robin in general with a spiteful scoff—"is nothing more than a false persona meant to fill in for the great one's absence. Your disgusting tears? Your precious lost love? All these emotions you're feeling?
"Fake. Once Master Validar takes you to the Dragon's Table and performs the Awakening rite, your true self will be fully resurrected, and all the worthless memories you've collected over your lifetime will become ash in the wind. You'll have fulfilled the purpose you were destined for, and become a GOD. Do you understand what I'm telling you?" Aversa smirked cruelly. "You …" she jabbed Robin's forehead with a finger "… are not even a real person."
All the fight left Robin, her arms flopping to her side.
The witch had said it aloud, Robin's greatest and most terrible fear.
To know it was one thing, but to hear Aversa so maliciously hammer it in was another. It destroyed the falsehood Robin used to try and protect herself, obliterating the illusion she needed to keep living this life one day at a time.
"Finally, you accept the indisputable truth," Aversa said smugly. "Now I do believe it's time for us to return—"
And then a fist met her face.
A ripple ran across her cheek as the punch sunk into her head and gradually distorted her smile.
Then launched her into the air, leaving a trail of blood as she was flung, the haymaker nearly popping her head off.
Robin nearly choked on her disbelief as she saw who the bloody fist belonged to: her cherished companion.
Alive.
Wait, how was he alive?!
The archer Risen fired a volley of arrows at the Guardian, who Traced a pair of clubs and batted them aside. Hold on, those weren't weapons! They were Heal staves! The Guardian was swinging a set of staves like they were cudgels! Because they weren't meant for combat, the fragile rods broke upon intercepting a single arrow each.
But that didn't stop the Guardian, as he simply replaced it with another Projection and kept at it. As a matter of fact, he was healing himself at the same time! Each stave would only restore a little bit before it was broken, but that meant nothing when the Guardian kept bringing out more. Bit by bit, his flaked skin and deep lacerations faded as his frankly absurd healing factor was boosted by magic.
The Risen with the axe barreled towards the Guardian, preparing to cleave him in twine due to his lack of proper weaponry … but was blown aside by a swing of Nowi's tail, batting him towards the collapsed Aversa.
As for the witch herself, she was being helped to her feet by the sword wielding Risen. Wait, she was bare handed. Where did the undead's sword disappear to?
"YOU!" Aversa shrieked, clutching her bleeding face and split lip with raw hate. In her fury, she never noticed the loose tooth she spat out. The archer Risen ceased his assault to regroup with the others. "You were struck down by Mjölnir's full might! You couldn't have survived!"
"Believe me, I saw the pearly gates up close," the Guardian coughed, treating his supposed death flippantly as he continued to heal himself with two staves simultaneously. "But then I heard the shit you were saying about my friend, and it pissed me off so much I had to come back to give you a piece of my mind."
Aversa snarled, spewing blood across the ground, before leering at Nowi. "How are you still standing, dragon? Tigris gutted you like a squealing pig!"
"You be thanking Gregor!" the mercenary laughed, and Robin was startled to see he was still alive. He'd removed the arrows from himself with a veteran's hand, and applied a vulnerary salve to each wound. "Knowing he could not win against very strong dead men, Gregor be playing the possum! Gave big dragon medicine when dead men busy with Huntsman!"
"Yeah! Everything still hurts, but now I can stomp you flat!" Nowi roared. Her injury was still there, a ugly laceration of split scales and exposed muscle, yet it'd stopped hemorrhaging.
The Guardian waved one of his staves over the Manakete and mercenary, better patching their injuries.
Aversa nearly foamed with hate. Evidentially, while she was a prodigy at utilizing dark magic, she had no such talent when it came to the restorative arts.
"This changes nothing!" the witch spat. "You're still outnumbered! Outclassed! This only delays the inevitable! So do us all a favor and end your own pathetic lives so I can return to Master Validar with the Heart of Grima!"
"Robin's not going anywhere with you," the Guardian declared.
Aversa sneered. "You would stand for that fake?"
Robin flinched, unable to refute the witch's words.
"Piss off, discount Ursula. I know exactly who that 'fake' is: a bibliophile with horrible tastes in overly-corny romance novels, a messy eater who goes bananas over bear meat, and the most studious and brilliant up-and-coming tactician in the world. She can't cook worth a damn, is prone to making the silliest mistakes, gets insecure about the most random of things, and when she sleeps on her side her snores sound like a wild boar blindly humping a bear that just came out of hibernation."
Robin sputtered in embarrassment at that last one. She didn't snore! … did she?
Nowi giggled at the revelation, while Gregor gave a large belly laugh.
"She's my best friend," the Guardian continued, his words overflowing with resolve and void of hesitation, "and if that isn't real, then I don't know what is."
Aversa was briefly stunned by the finality of the Guardian's declaration. "You're serious."
"Like a heart attack."
"You would fight for her?"
Her friend stood tall. "Bitch, I would die for her."
The Guardian's words rapidly filled in the void Aversa had cruelly carved into her.
Even if Aversa claimed Robin wasn't real, a mere placeholder personality for Grima, the Guardian believed she was, and his assessment mattered so much more than the blathering of some Plegian witch.
It was a beacon of light to the darkness she thought she'd never see the end of.
Validar's protégé released a suffering sigh. "Pretty words, but they count for little. You, the dragon, and the traitorous mercenary are still going to die, and my sister will be returning with me to castle Plegia. Your feelings"—she spat on the word—"change nothing."
The Guardian, Nowi, and Gregor prepared to fight.
Robin rose to her knees, ready to do the same, but stopped herself.
[the most studious and brilliant up-and-coming tactician in the world]
[How many times have I told you that this—poke—is your greatest asset!]
Another fighter wouldn't balance the scales, not when every opponent exceeded Robin in almost every way. But she was more than a fighter; more than a mage. Her sword might be sharp, and her magic deadly, but her mind was still her most powerful tool.
She was a Tactician, and it was time to start acting like one.
Direct combat? Out of the question. The priority was escape. Successfully fleeing their foes with all allies accounted for was the goal. The only question was how to accomplish this.
Robin didn't know, so she kicked her mind into gear and searched for a possibility. She stressed her brain so hard she feared it might begin leaking from her ears, but persisted. She analyzed the talents and skills of her allies, their strengths and weaknesses, their quirks and compulsions, taking them apart and viewing them as tactical cards at her disposal. Lining them up with a list of her own abilities, she viewed all their options with a tactician's eye, taking what was useful and assembling them into a viable plan for escape.
"Guardian," Robin spoke, her voice clear of doubt. "Buy me time."
"How much?" he asked.
"As much as you can give me."
He nodded, asking no questions as he marched towards Aversa and her Risen.
"Listen up," Robin whispered to Nowi and Gregor, who leaned in to hear her, "this is what we're going to do."
~
[Too Angry To Die!] saved my bacon, letting me cling to life with a single hit point despite taking a blow that should've killed me outright. While I was partially restored to full health by spamming Heal staves like they were running out of style, it didn't replace the blood I'd already lost; only food and rest would replenish those.
Despite this, I was confident.
Because Robin had a plan.
All I needed was to do my part.
Honestly, the smart thing to do would've been to equip the Fierce Deity's Mask while everyone thought I was ten-feet under. But when I heard the crap Aversa was shoving into Robin's ears, my heart overruled my head. My friend needed me, not the Fierce Deity, so that was who she got.
"Idiot," Aversa snarled as I neared. Draco and Anguilla remained by her side, while Tigris and Simia moved forward to meet me. "Nothing's changed, yet you insist on continuing this foolishness."
"Well, I wouldn't say nothing's change," I smirked, glancing at the barehanded Simia. "Looks like one of you is missing a weapon."
Aversa only now realized her Deadlord Swordmaster wasn't holding anything. "What have you done with Balmung, Fiend?"
I cackled. "If your pet undead didn't want to lose it, she shouldn't have left it with me." Yup, her precious Balmung was stored snuggly in my Inventory. I couldn't un-equip an enemy's weapon while they were using it, but it became a whole different story once they let go.
"How precious, the heroic Guardian of the Halidom acting like a common thief," Aversa spat, trying to get my hackles up.
"Yeah, because I'm sure the Grimleal got their hands on the Holy Weapons of Jugdral by asking nicely," I snarked.
Aversa glowered, but was vigilant after hearing what I'd said. "You are their strongest fighter; not even the dragon compares. I dare say against a single Deadlord, you'd emerge victorious. That is why you will die here. Once you fall, the rest will lose hope and crumble like a toddler's sand castle."
"You already killed me once, and I just got back up."
"This time dear Tigris will be removing your head."
Huh, I wonder if [Too Angry To Die!] could save me from decapitation? Let's not find out.
I didn't Project Ragnell. While it was definitely my best weapon, it hadn't been a great match against four Deadlords. So I was willing to try something different.
I equipped Balmung from my Inventory, the antique sword appearing in my left hand. Its handle felt warm in my palm.
Simia's glowing eyes possessively snapped onto the sword.
"Do you honestly believe you can wield Balmung better than its rightful owner?" Aversa scoffed as Draco took aim and Anguilla prepared Mjölnir. "Such wanton hubris."
"Oh, didn't you know?" I taunted as I held Balmung before me. "Old weapons and I get along like a house on fire."
I'd never played the Fire Emblem game Balmung and the other 12 Holy Weapons originated from, but using [Structural Analysis] showed me everything I needed to know. Although it wasn't forged or blessed by divinity, the ancient dragon responsible for its creation was close enough.
So I did what I'd done with Priam's Ragnell: I Reinforced the core concept of its power, reawakening its former might. Scarlet light poured from the ancient blade, shedding its age and regaining it mythical luster, while the chipped and cracked ruby Dragonstone inlaid in the heart of its cross-guard fired a beacon of energy into the sky as it was restored.
As the Holy Sword returned to the height of its power, I could sense Balmung itself fighting against my grip, rejecting me as its wielder. I knew why. The dragon responsible for Balmung formed a blood pact with their chosen Crusader, ensuring the blade could only be used by those who possessed that hero's bloodline.
Which was why I used [Alteration], forcibly imprinting a new trait upon it: [False Identity].
When the scarlet light died down, Balmung revealed itself and all its glory.
[Balmung (Altered), Rank: S]
The divine sword of the royal family of the Kingdom of Isaach, and one of the 12 Holy Weapons of Jugdral. Wielded by the Crusader Od, the Sword Saint, it has since been passed down through the royal Isaach family. Restored to the height of its glory, those who command Balmung's valor are endowed with +10 to SKILL and +20 to SPEED. It has been Altered with the trait [False Identity], thus tricking it into believing the Guardian is the only worthy descendent of the Crusader Od.
Might: 30
Hit Rate: 90%
Critical: 10%
Durability: ∞
Magic Cost: 5
[<Balmung (Altered), Rank: S> has been added to the SYSTEM's Catalogue!]
My eyes bugged out at what I'd read. +10 to skill and +20 to speed? Hot damn! I immediately checked my stats.
STRENGTH:24
MAGIC: 16
SKILL: 31 (+10)
SPEED: 39 (+20)
LUCK: 0
DEFENSE: 16
RESISTANCE: 20
Holy hell! I should've done a deep dive into Balmung's history the instant I scanned it, because if I'd known its true potential I would've done this sooner! The best part: I held the genuine article in my hands. This was no Projection, requiring a magic cost that bogged down my magic.
In other words … Full [Reinforcement]!
STRENGTH:40 (+16)
MAGIC: 0 (-16)
SKILL: 47 (+26)
SPEED: 55 (+36)
LUCK: 0
DEFENSE: 32 (+16)
RESISTANCE: 36 (+16)
"Y-You …" Aversa stammered, her confidence thoroughly shaken for the first time. "What are you?!"
"I thought you already knew? I'm the goddamn Silent Fiend, bane to evil bitches and bastards everywhere."
Before me, Simia was shaking, her remnant emotions in turmoil against her undead nature.
Aversa didn't have a witty quip to retort with. If anything, her anger overrode all pretenses of civility as she let out a harrowing shriek of outrage. Shadows exploded from her feet, churning forth like the waves of a tumultuous sea. They didn't extend towards me, instead crawling towards and up her four Deadlords, entering their preserved bodies. The black veins standing out against their corpse-white skin began pulsating, while whatever foul sorcery Aversa was brewing made the glow of their dead eyes intensify.
Swallowing down a bad feeling, I scanned each of the Deadlords.
NAME: Draco, of the 12 Deadlords
AGE: ERROR
CLASS: Shadowgift Bow Knight
LEVEL: 15
EXP: - / 100
HIT POINTS: 54 / 54
STRENGTH: 35 (+10)
MAGIC: 11 (+10)
SKILL: 38 (+10)
SPEED: 41 (+15)
LUCK: 16
DEFENSE: 30 (+10)
RESISTANCE: 21 (+10)
STATUS: ERROR
NAME: Tigris, of the 12 Deadlords
AGE: ERROR
CLASS: Shadowgift Warrior
LEVEL: 15
EXP: - / 100
HIT POINTS: 58 / 58
STRENGTH: 41 (+10)
MAGIC: 11 (+10)
SKILL: 36 (+10)
SPEED: 32 (+10)
LUCK: 24
DEFENSE: 37 (+15)
RESISTANCE: 22 (+10)
STATUS: ERROR
NAME: Simia, of the 12 Deadlords
AGE: ERROR
CLASS: Shadowgift Swordmaster
LEVEL: 15
EXP: - / 100
HIT POINTS: 51 / 51
STRENGTH: 34 (+10)
MAGIC: 15 (+10)
SKILL: 39 (+10)
SPEED: 37 (+10)
LUCK: 28
DEFENSE: 29 (+10)
RESISTANCE: 28 (+10)
STATUS: ERROR
NAME: Anguilla, of the 12 Deadlords
AGE: ERROR
CLASS: Shadowgift Dark Knight
LEVEL: 15
EXP: - / 100
HIT POINTS: 55 / 55
STRENGTH: 30 (+10)
MAGIC: 35 (+10)
SKILL: 39 (+15)
SPEED: 31 (+10)
LUCK: 14
DEFENSE: 35 (+10)
RESISTANCE: 28 (+10)
STATUS: ERROR
The fuck was this shit?! Since when could Aversa's Shadowgift pull crap like this? Yanking random power-ups out of the ass was supposed to be my shtick! She'd basically Reinforced her damn Deadlords, as if they weren't annoying enough already!
But this was no time for griping. Aversa was done toying with us with kid gloves. Still, I saw why she hadn't done this sooner, as her complexion became clammy with sweat. Briefly checking with [Structural Analysis], I saw her hit points had taken a dip, meaning whatever she'd done required both dark magic and her life force to pull off. Could she power up her puppets even further? She still had hit points to spare, so the possibility was there.
"Kill him!" Aversa screamed, splattering a veritable fountain of blood from her mouth. "KILL HIM THIS INSTANT!"
Draco and Anguilla attacked; one with an arrow, the other with lightning. Empowered by Aversa's Shadowgift, they were both stronger and faster than before. Even so, I cut down the arrow with ease, and blocked the spell with Balmung. The shock still ran up the length of my arm, making me grit my teeth. The Deadlord Dark Knight's magic was still going to be an issue.
Tigris and Simia struck as one, Aversa's empowerment clinging to them like billowing capes as they shot towards me; the Warrior with Helswath and the Swordmaster with her fists. I sidestepped around the axe, while weaving around Simia's fists, noticing a hint of martial arts in her movements.
It didn't matter. A scarlet silhouette followed my body as I moved at inhuman speeds, leaving a magical afterimage of myself. I practically flew across the ground, crossing swaths of land with a single bound. The feeling was exhilarating. I could run circles around the two close combat Deadlords if I so chose.
And Aversa knew this, and immediately changed things up. She joined the fight, but instead of aiming her sorcery at me, she sneered and cast a flux of darkness at Robin and the others. Alarmed, I disengaged from my opponents and ran in front of the hostile spell, barely intercepting it with my extended right arm. The harsh magic left an ugly burn on my forearm, but my resistance toughed it out.
"Attack the dragon and the mercenary!" the bitch commanded.
Draco and Anguilla immediately obeyed, unleashing their attacks on my companions. I cut down the arrows while doing my best to manage the lightning, but each strike still stung like hell. I couldn't afford to dodge, as any attack that slipped past me would threaten Robin, Nowi, and/or Gregor. Meanwhile, Tigris and Simia barreled towards me to increase the pressure.
My eyes landed on my discarded Silver Greatbow, lying on the ground nearby, and an idea formed. I didn't need to defeat any of the Deadlords, my purpose was to stall them. In other words, I needed a stalwart defense to keep them at bay. Lowering my [Reinforcement] just enough to free up a bit of magic, I scooped up the greatbow with my free hand and used [Alteration] on it.
I completely changed its shape, transforming it into a plain tower shield. It had no design, as I didn't have time for that. Once I'd held it in my right hand, I used [Alteration] again to imbue it with the trait [Anti-Magic].
[Silver Tower Shield (Altered), Rank: A]
A large shield created by the Guardian. Its enhancement of [Resist Magic] lowers the potency of the hostile spells it blocks.
Protection: 20
Resistance: 20
Durability: 30/30
Magic Cost: 2
[<Silver Tower Shield (Altered), Rank: A> has been added to the SYSTEM's Catalogue!]
I cocked an eyebrow. [Resist Magic]? I guess [Anti-Magic] was beyond what I was capable of, so [Alteration] downgraded it into the next best thing. It also overwrote its original enhancement of [True Shot], which meant items could only hold a single trait at any given time. Good to know.
When Anguilla cast another lightning bolt, and I blocked it with my shield and felt nothing but a harmless bit of static, I was more than fine with what I had.
Tigris and Simia came at me with everything they could muster, and it was useless. My tower shield repelled everything they threw at me. I was a fortress, unmoving in the face of my enemies and the aegis of my allies. Neither Draco's arrows, Anguilla's electricity, or Aversa's sorcery could slip past me.
But what surprised me the most was how … right this felt. For so long, my fighting style revolved around whatever worked. Simple enemies were felled by simple means, while against stronger foes I copied the skills of my betters by reading the history of their weapons.
But this? This was my style.
The sword and shield.
Honestly it should've been obvious why, but that's the benefit of hindsight.
Yet it wasn't perfect. I was still outnumbered, facing down five foes who were all powerful in their own right, and forced to protect my much weaker allies against their onslaught. My impromptu tower shield wasn't infallible either. Unable to get past it, my enemies focused on destroying it instead. Tigris' Helswath began chipping away at its edges with every heavy swing; Simia's fist were slamming numerous dents onto its surface; Draco's arrows were starting to pierce the silver shield bit by bit.
My own mistakes were inevitable as well. A lucky shot from Draco or Anguilla, a distraction from Tigris, Simia, and Aversa that allowed the others to slip a hit in. As each second crawled by one at a time, my body received another souvenir from my foes.
But I didn't flinch.
I didn't retreat.
In the face of such encroaching adversity, I was unwavering. I wasn't afraid to die, not after my horrendous year living as a dead man walking, as Basilio so eloquently put it. No, I had a much greater fear: failing those I cared about. Compared to that, how could I worry about something as insignificant as my life?
Which was why, in the face of my fears, I bravely stood my ground, no matter what my enemies threw my way.
"Guardian! We're ready!" Robin called out. Music to my ears. "Gather them in one spot!"
Gladly. When Tigris lunged for another attack, I didn't remain passive. Instead, I braced myself against my crumbling tower shield and charged ahead, ramming the Deadlord Warrior with the force of a speeding freight train. He was hurled away, nearly crashing into Anguilla.
I prepared to do the same with Simia. First, I'd make her fall back with a feint from Balmung, then give her a third-class ticket to the Tower Shield Express. But when I lashed out with Balmung, the damnedest thing occurred.
Simia lowered her arms, standing before me defenseless. She gave me a smile no Risen should've been capable of as my bewildered blade sliced through her neck.
[Ding!]
[You've defeated a powerful foe! +50 to EXP!]
"ThAnK … yOu …" the Deadlord Swordmaster whispered before her head fell from her shoulders and her corpse began breaking apart into flecks of darkness.
A stone's throw from us, Aversa screamed. "You dare … YOU DARE DESTROY MY DEADLORD?!"
I would've snarked and said she was already dead to begin with, but my abrupt victory caught me so off guard the words didn't come out, especially when the darkness fleeing from Simia's dissolving body snaked towards the remaining three Deadlords and slithered into their bodies, fortifying them further. God damn shit! Aversa was using the spare energy from Simia to boost her remaining pawns even more! The +10 to all their stats just jumped up to +15!
Which was why I was so damn relieved when Robin enacted her plan. I felt the magic roiling off her as she channeled more of the arcane than ever before. With a determined cry, Robin cast the spell she'd been preparing this entire time, conjuring a magical twister around Aversa and her Deadlords.
"You think this is enough to contain us?!" Aversa raged against the howling wind, her Deadlords already moving to punch through the spell.
"You having seen nothing yet!" Nowi shouted as she added her fire breath to Robin's magic. Her flames were fed by Robin's spell, erupting into a hurricane of dragon fire with Aversa and her pets trapped inside.
"Guardian!" Robin cried, fighting against her exertion to maintain her spell. "This is what I need you to do!"
~
Aversa screeched in indignation at the pathetic cage entrapping them. Dragon fire was dangerously potent, even from an immature Manakete. Adding the Heart of Grima's wind magic (which she somehow executed despite using such an inferior tome), and it became potentially lethal to Aversa. Her health was already compromised granting the Gift of Shadow to her devoted Deadlords, so exposing her to the burning tornado was out of the question.
Deadlord Anguilla was using Mjölnir to generate a protective cage of lightning around them, staving off the flames and heat. Once her obedient servant gathered enough magic, she'd be able to blast this wretched prison to pieces. Then her empowered Deadlords would slaughter the Silent Fiend and end this charade once and for all!
The flaming hurricane warbled as Aversa felt her rebellious sister's magic cease. Ah, Master Validar's unfilial spawn was unable to maintain her spell! It aggravated Aversa to see the Heart of Grima so weak, wasting the power of her lineage, but at least it would make capturing the brat so much easier.
"GREAT—!" Wait a moment, what was that? "—AETHER!!!"
The Silent Fiend shot towards them from the sky, wielding the golden blade of the hated goddess, and descending directly towards Aversa.
Caught entirely off guard, her life was only spared because Deadlord Anguilla reacted the fastest and shoved her out of the Fiend's way. Instead, the Silent Fiend's despicable blade dropped down on her dutiful Dark Knight, splitting the Deadlord in twine before striking and cratering the earth.
Another priceless Deadlord destroyed by this sickening cockroach!
Aversa's shriek of outrage only intensified by a magnitude of 10 when the Silent Fiend noticed Mjölnir dangling from Anguilla's dead grasp, and snatched it up without a moment of hesitation.
That shameless pilferer!
She wanted Draco and Tigris to rend the infuriating irritant limb from limb, slowly and painfully, thus was shocked when her remaining Deadlords seized her in a hurry and retreated as fast as their undead legs could carry them.
But why? The Deadlords were instructed by Master Validar to follow her orders and ensure her safety at all—
Then the fractured ground around the Silent Fiend exploded, discharging an eruption of blue fire that produced an omnidirectional blast wave. Caught within its radius, Draco and Tigris shielded Aversa with their bodies as the pillar of fire reached high enough to touch the sky.
Aversa's fury reached peaks she never knew she had. This humiliation would not stand! She was done playing around, as the novelty had shriveled and died. With Simia's and Anguilla's destruction, she had more shadows available to increase Draco's and Tigris' power, and gladly sacrificed more of her own vitality to make them as strong as demi-gods. No cost was too great, so long as it meant the Fiend's gruesome end! Draco would fill the Fiend with so many arrows he'd resemble a tailor's pin cushion, while Tigris would rip his spine from his mouth with his undead hands.
Aversa didn't care that she was hemorrhaging blood from her eyes, nose, lips, and ears. The excruciating agony she felt now would be validated with the Silent Fiend's death!
Yet when the accursed blue flames cleared …
… the target of her ire was nowhere to be found.
She looked left.
He wasn't there.
She looked right.
He still wasn't there.
She even looked behind her.
Absolutely nothing.
Then she noticed something worse: the Heart of Grima had vanished as well! Along with the Manakete and traitorous sellsword!
HOW?!? How had those cretins accomplished this?! Their strange invisibility? No! Neither Draco nor Tigris could see them! Had they fled on foot? Inconceivable! There was neither hair nor hide of them anywhere! They had well and truly disappeared into thin air!
So consumed by her outrage, Aversa spent an hour randomly firing bouts of sorcery at anything and everything, yet it did nothing to allay the absolute frustration making her gnash her bloody teeth.
They would pay! They would pay for making a fool out of Aversa, Master Validar's most gifted disciple! The next time they met she swore it would be their last!
~
It worked.
Robin sagged in Nowi's claw with utmost relief, almost dropping the wind spell keeping them afloat. Across from her, Gregor the (surprisingly honorable) sellsword tightly clung to Nowi's other forearm as the Manakete did her absolute best to keep them airborne high above the ground.
A few dozen yards below them was the Guardian, dangling from a rope whose other end was lassoed around the dragon's neck.
Robin knew their best chance to escape was to take to the air with Nowi, yet there was no way the dragon could climb the skies with three passengers when she struggled with just two. Since she wasn't going to leave Gregor behind after he saved Nowi's life, Robin needed to get creative. If Nowi couldn't get airborne under her own power, then all she needed was a boost.
The Guardian provided exactly that.
First, Robin needed a way to contain and distract Aversa and her Deadlords so they could make their preparations unimpeded. She accomplished this by pushing her Wind tome past its limits, casting a spell far beyond its intended use. This necessitated an extended period of preparation, and one heck of a headache for Robin, but she sucked it up and accomplished it anyways. The time the Guardian bought for them was pivotal for that purpose.
Nowi helped, adding dragon fire to her spell to improve the magical prison.
Once that was done, Robin explained the rest to the Guardian. His borderline kleptomania came in handy for once, as his Inventory was fill with more than just weapons and food. There was also an assortment of supplies, including a very thick rope. He added protections against fire to said rope, along with Robin's and Gregor's clothes. Then he fastened one end of the hemp cord around his waist, while the other was quickly tied around Nowi's neck.
Their preparations set, the Guardian brought out Ragnell once more and executed a move he'd only told her about: the Great Aether. The geyser of divine flame it generated was even greater than Robin could've ever imagined, which was all the better for them. Nowi (with Robin and Gregor clinging to her forearms for dear life) leapt into the fading hurricane of fire almost directly after the Guardian landed, so when the eruption occurred the rising wave of heat and wind was caught by Nowi's outstretched wings and sent her rocketing skyward, yanking the Guardian with her soon after.
Sure, the plan had its downsides. The Guardian's [Alteration] couldn't make Robin and Gregor completely immune to fire, so both of them were covered in light but painful burns. Nowi was also complaining up a storm, whining that the explosive updraft might've dislocated her wings and that Robin's wind magic was exacerbating the pain. Then there was her friend, the Guardian, who was dangling beneath them like a lifeless fish. The sudden acceleration into the sky hadn't done him any favors, especially when he was abruptly yanked up by the rope wrapped around his stomach. Robin was pretty sure he puked all over the underside of his mask.
On top of all that, the idea itself was downright crazy to begin with.
But they pulled it off, and glided over Longfort's manned walls as they entered the snowy territory of Regna Ferox.
"Porridge and pierogi! This not be good for Gregor's poor stomach. We be making with the landing soon, yes? Gregor is not bird, and is not wanting to poop like bird either. Gregor is thinking it be very rude!"
~Current Stats~
NAME: ???
AGE: 21
CLASS: ???
LEVEL: 15 (+1)
EXP: 16 / 100
HIT POINTS: 41 / 47 (+1)
STRENGTH: [25] (+1)
MAGIC: 17 (+1)
SKILL: 21
SPEED: 20 (+1)
LUCK: 0
DEFENSE: 17 (+1)
RESISTANCE: 21 (+1)
~Current Skills~
PERSONAL SKILL 1: Projection, Trace Version
PERSONAL SKILL 2: Inventory of the Wild Hero
PERSONAL SKILL 3: [ERROR!]
SKILL 1: Too Angry To Die!
SKILL 2: Reinforcement
SKILL 3: Poison Immunity
SKILL 4: N/A
SKILL 5: N/A
