Dead Eye
Finally, his eyes were more than a beacon of hatred from others.
For eighteen years, they had caused him nothing but trouble and heartache. This had eased up somewhat after joining the world of Mages, but he never forgot the bitterness and resentment of almost everyone that looked at him in his childhood.
He could feel that this Deviant Skill of his had been inspired in some part by the eyes they used as a medium. Why else would this power work like a roided-up version of his eyes before it?
His eyes, as he had come to learn, amplified the negative emotions within those who gazed upon them.
This was why Fate had been so confused when he dueled Venden. The then-noble had taken one look into Fate's eyes and felt not fear or anger toward Fate, but disgust toward himself.
There was also the matter of Venden being further through the Journeyman Stage back then, but that was beside the point.
By all rights, Fate's eyes shouldn't have been capable of doing such a thing until now, with his Deviant Skill, so he rightly concluded that Venden had just snapped.
This conclusion was further reinforced by his talk with Venden after the two came to from their injuries.
Now, though, Fate could inflict what Venden experienced on others with a thought, weaponizing the part about himself he despised the most. It was almost poetic, in a way.
With little thought, Fate dubbed his Deviant Skill "Dead Eye." He didn't care that the term referred to pinpoint-accurate archers, what else would he call a pair of eyes that made things dead?
'FATE!' Kravoss screeched.
A slap knocked Fate out of his introspection, his eyes fluttering open to see Samantha's face above his own, her blue eyes looking worriedly down at him.
That worry turned to anger as Samantha snarled. "So you WERE alive, and you just made me wait on you?"
"I was in the middle of something," Fate said apologetically.
He flexed his sword hand, relieved to find it was whole again.
'Must have been important,' Kravoss said with a disdainful sniff. 'I've been trying to reach you for the past forty minutes. Do you know how tiring it is to hold off waves of imps while your master is lying down on the floor like a damn potato?!'
"I'm sorry, all right?" Fate sighed, grabbing his sword and pushing himself off the ground as he and Samantha rose to their feet.
He knew the Dracok was exaggerating. At most, only thirty or so imps bothered the rooster and Gevum while Samantha tried to help Fate. The others were too busy not dying on the blades of the Guards.
He turned his head this way and that, taking stock of the battlefield.
The war drums continued their frantic tempo, and the imps in this street were dead or dying, though Fate heard the sounds of battle elsewhere within the city.
Fate and Samantha were ringed by the aforementioned imps that sought to harm them, and Kravoss and Gevum flew overhead. The streets were filled with dead imps, with fallen humans mixed in with their number.
Another two aesh had fallen, both wielding great swords.
The one with the mace, the one with the executioner's axe, and another sword wielder were still alive, though Fate couldn't see the Arch-Mage and the aesh woman after a cursory glance.
The three Tier III survivors were being ganged up on by the surviving humans, outnumbered twelve to one, not including Familiars.
Kravoss had split off from Fate once the aesh showed up, helping a slightly more desperate group of Mages take out a separate aesh as Fate tackled the one with the scar.
After searching a bit more, Fate spotted a blur outside the city wall, followed by a flash of brown and red.
'The Arch-Mage and the aesh woman must be out there,' he thought.
That made sense. Arch-Mages and their Tier IV counterparts were existences capable of reforming the land with enough time and effort. Neither would want to harm their troops in the wake of their battle.
Samantha's wounds on her hip, left arm, and back were gone. After asking about it, Fate learned that she downed a healing potion once she became too wounded to fight.
"Healing potion?" he asked. "How'd you get ahold of them?"
None of the stores he had visited sold them. He vaguely remembered a mention of them in a book, but he didn't know where to get them.
From what he could remember, potions were made from special plants nurtured from seeds by Mages of a certain Facet.
This made them extremely expensive, which was probably why he didn't find them in pawn shops and general stores.
"My family's resident healer made them. I only had two, so don't expect another saving grace from me."
"How touching that you care," Fate said sarcastically.
"I saved your life, didn't I? So now, we're even."
Fate didn't comment, turning his gaze to the remaining aesh, specifically the one with the large mace.
A Guard was hit by the massive weapon as he watched, the poor man flying away and crashing into a building.
Cait darted around the lump of muscle with five other Mages, getting in hits while other Mages threw various projectiles at the demon.
"I guess we should finish this war," Fate said, adjusting his grip on his sword.
"Not much we can do against a Tier III," replied Samantha.
'No, but we can nip at his heels so the Masters can capitalize,' Kravoss said.
"Against these monsters, they'll need all the help they can get," Fate replied.
The aesh truly were terrifying. Even twelve against one, the demon was still going strong.
Arrows rained down on him from above, but he hardly seemed to notice.
Every swing of his mace was the descent of a reaper's scythe, taking a life or coming close to it each time.
Just the force of the aesh's swings was enough to ruffle the hair of the long-range Mages who stood over twenty feet away.
Fate gripped his sword with both hands and took inhaled deeply before he and his companions started toward the aesh and his encirclement.
With every step he took, he couldn't help but wonder…
How had the humans won the first time?