The hunters are, understandably, panicking. It’s one thing to die for a cause. They can take a sword if it means providing for their families and defending the reputation of the guilds.
Watching one of their compatriots claw himself to death after being tapped on the head two times has firmly driven home the reality of their circumstances. This is not an impossible challenge with a king’s ransom waiting for anyone who manages to rise against fate. They won’t be laying down their lives after a valiant struggle, going out in a blaze of glory rather than slinking into retirement with lackluster stories and even more lackluster coin purses.
This is a death sentence. They will die and they will die horribly. Painfully. Slowly. There will be no mercy. The glorious struggle they imagine amounts to a game to the foreign woman watching them with a manic smile. The moment they enter the Witness Circle, they will become her toys, their lives worth less than worms.
The hunters are not happy.
Emberton is even less so. His fodder soldiers are rather important to his strategy. After all, the stronger hunters, those who aren’t desperate for money and can make their way in the world just fine without a guild behind them, agreed to participate under the premise that they wouldn’t be fighting blind. A guildmaster was killed. Reputations be damned, they don’t want to be next.
The representative is still shouting them down when the duke’s voice booms across the silent Witness Circle. “Choose your next champion.”
Emberton jumps and his voice grows louder as he shouts at the reluctant men. They don’t seem to be moved. Is that it? Have we broken them? I can’t believe it, that was easier than I—
“I will take a break.” Kierra raises her voice for all to hear. Still smiling, she walks toward us. On the other end of the circle, Emberton’s voice gains strength and the hunters’ voices weaken. They are not nearly as afraid of the recently promoted initiate. Saints damn this woman. I should have made her promise to do this efficiently. Of course, if she has her way, this will be dragged on forever.
Once she nears, I move toward her, my succubi behind me. “Thanks,” I whisper dryly as we pass one another.
“Make them weep,” she returns, chuckling at my annoyance.
“A good idea, my summoner,” Geneva murmurs. “There is little as demoralizing to a man as watching another man cry broken tears.”
“Don’t get too excited. We already agreed that I’m the one fighting,” I return. It was a decision we came to while strewn across Alana’s bed. Thankfully, my future saint leans more toward holding back a blade to strike at the most opportune moment rather than cowling foes with overwhelming force. She understands the value of keeping secrets. To that end, having my succubi fight will expose many secrets.
As of now, no one has connected the rampaging beasts to them. It seems like idiocy at first glance. Succubi are shapeshifters. To me, it makes sense to assume that the beasts accompanying me were them. It makes more sense than assuming I suddenly tamed two previously unknown manabeasts. My view may be a result of being too close because none of the hunters have made the connection.
It’s not entirely their fault. For one, no living hunter witnessed the succubi transforming into their forms. Alana brought up the point that Zach wasn’t stupid but had doomed himself because he cannot fathom the extent of my abilities. I’ve also thought that no one would ever believe that I have seven affinities without being shown the proof.
In same way, human understanding of shapeshifting stops the hunters from assuming my succubi are the beasts that rampaged through the city. It simply isn’t something they would ever guess a physical affinity could do. Make a man as strong as a team of oxen? Sure. Turn a plain woman into a beauty men would kill to woo? Absolutely. Heal the unmendable and tear a man apart from the inside? Expected.
Transform into a completely different creature? No. Never.
What is also holding them back are their false assumptions based on their research. Geneva has taken the guise of a thrall and Bell an incompetent imp. Neither should have the strength of a master caster, the bare minimum it would take for them to be able to accept skill of that caliber.
To hold onto those secrets a little longer, it’s better they don’t fight directly. This body’s prowess has already been exposed along with my questionable casting abilities. As scary as I am, I am still only an extension of my wife’s abilities.
Their trepidation about my physical abilities is nothing to what the nobles of the kingdom would feel if they knew I had contracted not one, but two master level elementals. That is scary enough on its own but having two by my side would lead any sensible person to assume that I can contract more.
That would make me a threat that cannot be ignored.
My elementals almost weren’t allowed to fight with me. Duels are one on one, no interference. The night before the March, Zach tried to screw us by arguing that elementals are separate individuals, therefore they shouldn’t be allowed to fight with me. Alana countered with the fact that they are bound to my mana, making them a part of me.
They went back and forth for a bit before I interrupted with the bold declaration that elementals were a summoner’s weapons, the same as a sword or a dagger. Followed up with that as the son of a duke he should understand that subordinates could be extensions of a ruler’s will. That was enough for the duke to come down on our side.
Alana also revealed Rolly to her father in private. Can’t have the young lord spreading our secrets but it wouldn’t be good if the duke thought someone unrelated was interfering if I need Rolly for anything.
As I reach the center of the field, the hunters find their resolve. Or at least, one more of the fodder hunters does. He is the opposite of the poor bastard with the misfortune to face Kierra; tall, nervous, and painfully young.
The bulk of his coat isn’t enough to hide that he is frightfully skinny. His head jerks and twitches as he shuffles forward, his lips slightly moving as he mutters to himself. He’s not even saying anything, just a soft gurgle of nonsensical sounds. His eyes are glowing. Guess he has no intention of surrendering like his predecessor.
Suddenly, his movements become glacial. While the world appears to have suddenly slowed to a crawl, I have experienced this enough times to recognize Geneva’s touch. It’s my thoughts that are faster. What’s wrong?
[The boy has alchemical weapons under his coat. Several flasks of a strange liquid.]
Strange liquid? You don’t know what it is?
[I’ve told you it is dangerous to assume I know everything, my summoner. However, it is easy to find out.]
For obvious reasons to anyone that knows her kind, one of my very first orders to the succubus was that she not use her abilities on me or on innocents, lest in defense of me or mine. As he has yet to attack us and whatever concoction he’s carrying isn’t truly a threat, she must think the situation too ambiguous to act on her own. Or maybe this is her way of kissing ass after I uncovered her plot. Showing she’s still the good, obedient pet and there’s no need to grow any more suspicious of her motives.
Go on.
Our conversation started with my opponent mid-step. I give my order for her to search his mind as he finally manages to put his foot down. He doesn’t have time to raise the other before I have the answer.
[He is not knowledgeable of the concoction’s ingredients. Once heat is applied to the mixture, it expands rapidly and the gas is toxic. He hopes to create a cloud of poison. Poisons are a standard tactic against particularly sturdy creatures or powerful regenerators.]
And how does he plan to escape his cloud of death?
[He doesn’t.]
Ah. He’s heating up this poison right now?
[Indeed. He plans to throw them down. He imagines it’ll take three breaths before the gas covers most of the field.]
I can reach him before then. Sap the heat from this mixture. Will that be enough to stop it?
[Yes. Is there anything else you could do?]
I mentally frown at the question. The current strategy is good enough, isn’t it?
[Perhaps. The cold environ should make the spell to disperse the heat fairly easy. Though you’d either have to target the whole of the person or each of the flasks individually. But there are other possibilities, are there not?]
Are you…trying to instruct me right now?
[I wouldn’t want you to think I’m neglecting your education.]
She is seriously kissing ass. I’m not angry about her scheming. It would be the same as being angry at a storm cloud for pouring rain. It is simply doing what it is meant to do.
[While I am always eager to demonstrate my value, my summoner, this remains a valuable opportunity. We have tried all manner of instruction except one. One already proven effective. Hands-on application. Humor me. We have time before he reaches his place and the duel begins.]
I take in the glacial pace of the young hunter. His foot is halfway in the air and poised to move forward. Fine, I’ll humor you. But isn’t my way the best way?
[Is it?]
I suppose I could drain the heat from those flasks from a distance. Ugh, dimension variables. Less mana intensive than distance variables but far more complicated. Oh! I suppose I could throw him backward and light him up. Let him breathe in the poison on his own.
[A more effective tactic for a group but valid. Is that all?]
Hm…
[Would you like a hint?]
I’ve got it. Saints damn succubus. Excuse me for not thinking at the same rate as an immortal being that’s been plotting the downfall of creatures big and small for centuries, if not more.
[Very well. No rush.]
Hmm…Maybe…no, I don’t want to expose those secrets. At the end of the day, it boils down to stopping the mixture or knocking him aside, no matter what means I choose to do it with. Right? That’s it. There’s no other answer.
[If your goal was merely to win. But is that your goal?]
…no.
[Then what is your goal?]
To stall for time while Kierra recovers her mana. Oh, and to make the hunters despair so they’ll surrender before they’re all slaughtered. Can’t believe I’m the only person trying to save these people. When did I become the most soft-hearted of the group? Not even Cloud urged restraint when she heard about the March, simply wishing us luck in battle.
[I believe I should allow another to weigh in.]
{Hm?} Rolly’s chiming voice echoes in my mind. {What is…oh? Oh hoh! I did not know you capable of a mind table!}
A mind table?
{A translation, of course. Its name is far more elegant in my own tongue. You should consider altering the range of your senses and voice. With your current body, there are many things you will miss and several creatures you could never converse with. Most are wary of mind-to-mind contact.}
Ah. Something to think about but the mind table thing. You make it sound like it’s more than speeding up thoughts.
{Oh, my poor, young summoner. So little you have seen. So little you know. This isn’t merely altering how you feel time. She has connected to the whole of your perceptions. Close your eyes and she could take you anywhere. It is a journey of a lifetime that can be taken in stolen moments. A wondrous and much valued skill…in the right hands.}
…but why call it a mind table?
{That is all you have to ask?} The lueorale’s voice is tinged with exasperation. {Again, it is a translation. The descriptor is changed based on the magnitude of the spell. Between two or three minds, it’s a table. A dozen? A mind…room, I guess. A couple dozen? A mind manor. So on and so forth. There are species that exist only in their thoughts, normally the strongest of them creating a mind world that can connect millions of minds.}
[If you are done with story time, shall we continue with the education of our summoner? I wouldn’t want this to go on so long Lou forgets what we’re doing here.]
{Ah, yes. There is danger in cutting yourself from the flow of time. Then? What are we doing?}
[Her opponent is about to sacrifice himself to kill her. On his body are mixtures that he will heat with a spell and throw towards her. The gas will rapidly spread to cover the entirety of the field. How would you achieve victory?]
{Assuming I don’t have our summoner’s ridiculous body?}
[Restricting yourself to the fire and wind affinity.]
{Ha! Drain the heat from the area and put an arrow of flame through his head. No flasks there. Throw him away and let him explode on his own. Wait for him to throw the poison and jump. Even if you don’t fly, you can stay up there long enough for your opponent to die and to maintain fairness, the duke will have the poison cleared. Wind could be fast enough to take off his head and stop his spell if it’s channeled. Shatter the flasks with a burst of wind. Doubt he’s targeting the mixture itself rather than its container with his spell.}
Ah, she basically said the same things as me. Except for the air thing. Didn’t think to simply run. And why would I? I don’t need to run from much of anything.
[Then, how would you inflict fear in the other hunters?]
{Too easy. Nothing.}
Nothing?
{Think of it. A desperate man steps before the villain, ready to lay down his life for victory. His weapon, a poison that will kill him just the same as his hated enemy. He uses his diabolical mixture, roaring in pained victory even as it eats him from the inside out, because it is all worth it so long as he takes you with him. The hunters avert their eyes, saying a prayer for their fallen comrade. The cloud of death clears. Their friend lies dead. And you? You stand there, slightly puzzled and completely unharmed. Utterly flabbergasted how an insect thought it could possibly harm you. Exasperated by the knowledge that the fool has wasted your time so completely.}
The creature giggles. {You balk from inflicting terror and horror. Then assault them with apathy. Make them realize that though they may be willing to sacrifice everything, even their lives, it is all pointless. You are the end. The indomitable. The inevitable. Take away their hope and their purpose and who could muster any strength to raise arms? Of course, it’s not as simple as standing there looking serious. Allow me to show you how to be a proper villain, my summoner.}
The hunters are, understandably, panicking. It’s one thing to die for a cause. They can take a sword if it means providing for their families and defending the reputation of the guilds.
Watching one of their compatriots claw himself to death after being tapped on the head two times has firmly driven home the reality of their circumstances. This is not an impossible challenge with a king’s ransom waiting for anyone who manages to rise against fate. They won’t be laying down their lives after a valiant struggle, going out in a blaze of glory rather than slinking into retirement with lackluster stories and even more lackluster coin purses.
This is a death sentence. They will die and they will die horribly. Painfully. Slowly. There will be no mercy. The glorious struggle they imagine amounts to a game to the foreign woman watching them with a manic smile. The moment they enter the Witness Circle, they will become her toys, their lives worth less than worms.
The hunters are not happy.
Emberton is even less so. His fodder soldiers are rather important to his strategy. After all, the stronger hunters, those who aren’t desperate for money and can make their way in the world just fine without a guild behind them, agreed to participate under the premise that they wouldn’t be fighting blind. A guildmaster was killed. Reputations be damned, they don’t want to be next.
The representative is still shouting them down when the duke’s voice booms across the silent Witness Circle. “Choose your next champion.”
Emberton jumps and his voice grows louder as he shouts at the reluctant men. They don’t seem to be moved. Is that it? Have we broken them? I can’t believe it, that was easier than I—
“I will take a break.” Kierra raises her voice for all to hear. Still smiling, she walks toward us. On the other end of the circle, Emberton’s voice gains strength and the hunters’ voices weaken. They are not nearly as afraid of the recently promoted initiate. Saints damn this woman. I should have made her promise to do this efficiently. Of course, if she has her way, this will be dragged on forever.
Once she nears, I move toward her, my succubi behind me. “Thanks,” I whisper dryly as we pass one another.
“Make them weep,” she returns, chuckling at my annoyance.
“A good idea, my summoner,” Geneva murmurs. “There is little as demoralizing to a man as watching another man cry broken tears.”
“Don’t get too excited. We already agreed that I’m the one fighting,” I return. It was a decision we came to while strewn across Alana’s bed. Thankfully, my future saint leans more toward holding back a blade to strike at the most opportune moment rather than cowling foes with overwhelming force. She understands the value of keeping secrets. To that end, having my succubi fight will expose many secrets.
As of now, no one has connected the rampaging beasts to them. It seems like idiocy at first glance. Succubi are shapeshifters. To me, it makes sense to assume that the beasts accompanying me were them. It makes more sense than assuming I suddenly tamed two previously unknown manabeasts. My view may be a result of being too close because none of the hunters have made the connection.
It’s not entirely their fault. For one, no living hunter witnessed the succubi transforming into their forms. Alana brought up the point that Zach wasn’t stupid but had doomed himself because he cannot fathom the extent of my abilities. I’ve also thought that no one would ever believe that I have seven affinities without being shown the proof.
In same way, human understanding of shapeshifting stops the hunters from assuming my succubi are the beasts that rampaged through the city. It simply isn’t something they would ever guess a physical affinity could do. Make a man as strong as a team of oxen? Sure. Turn a plain woman into a beauty men would kill to woo? Absolutely. Heal the unmendable and tear a man apart from the inside? Expected.
Transform into a completely different creature? No. Never.
What is also holding them back are their false assumptions based on their research. Geneva has taken the guise of a thrall and Bell an incompetent imp. Neither should have the strength of a master caster, the bare minimum it would take for them to be able to accept skill of that caliber.
To hold onto those secrets a little longer, it’s better they don’t fight directly. This body’s prowess has already been exposed along with my questionable casting abilities. As scary as I am, I am still only an extension of my wife’s abilities.
Their trepidation about my physical abilities is nothing to what the nobles of the kingdom would feel if they knew I had contracted not one, but two master level elementals. That is scary enough on its own but having two by my side would lead any sensible person to assume that I can contract more.
That would make me a threat that cannot be ignored.
My elementals almost weren’t allowed to fight with me. Duels are one on one, no interference. The night before the March, Zach tried to screw us by arguing that elementals are separate individuals, therefore they shouldn’t be allowed to fight with me. Alana countered with the fact that they are bound to my mana, making them a part of me.
They went back and forth for a bit before I interrupted with the bold declaration that elementals were a summoner’s weapons, the same as a sword or a dagger. Followed up with that as the son of a duke he should understand that subordinates could be extensions of a ruler’s will. That was enough for the duke to come down on our side.
Alana also revealed Rolly to her father in private. Can’t have the young lord spreading our secrets but it wouldn’t be good if the duke thought someone unrelated was interfering if I need Rolly for anything.
As I reach the center of the field, the hunters find their resolve. Or at least, one more of the fodder hunters does. He is the opposite of the poor bastard with the misfortune to face Kierra; tall, nervous, and painfully young.
The bulk of his coat isn’t enough to hide that he is frightfully skinny. His head jerks and twitches as he shuffles forward, his lips slightly moving as he mutters to himself. He’s not even saying anything, just a soft gurgle of nonsensical sounds. His eyes are glowing. Guess he has no intention of surrendering like his predecessor.
Suddenly, his movements become glacial. While the world appears to have suddenly slowed to a crawl, I have experienced this enough times to recognize Geneva’s touch. It’s my thoughts that are faster. What’s wrong?
[The boy has alchemical weapons under his coat. Several flasks of a strange liquid.]
Strange liquid? You don’t know what it is?
[I’ve told you it is dangerous to assume I know everything, my summoner. However, it is easy to find out.]
For obvious reasons to anyone that knows her kind, one of my very first orders to the succubus was that she not use her abilities on me or on innocents, lest in defense of me or mine. As he has yet to attack us and whatever concoction he’s carrying isn’t truly a threat, she must think the situation too ambiguous to act on her own. Or maybe this is her way of kissing ass after I uncovered her plot. Showing she’s still the good, obedient pet and there’s no need to grow any more suspicious of her motives.
Go on.
Our conversation started with my opponent mid-step. I give my order for her to search his mind as he finally manages to put his foot down. He doesn’t have time to raise the other before I have the answer.
[He is not knowledgeable of the concoction’s ingredients. Once heat is applied to the mixture, it expands rapidly and the gas is toxic. He hopes to create a cloud of poison. Poisons are a standard tactic against particularly sturdy creatures or powerful regenerators.]
And how does he plan to escape his cloud of death?
[He doesn’t.]
Ah. He’s heating up this poison right now?
[Indeed. He plans to throw them down. He imagines it’ll take three breaths before the gas covers most of the field.]
I can reach him before then. Sap the heat from this mixture. Will that be enough to stop it?
[Yes. Is there anything else you could do?]
I mentally frown at the question. The current strategy is good enough, isn’t it?
[Perhaps. The cold environ should make the spell to disperse the heat fairly easy. Though you’d either have to target the whole of the person or each of the flasks individually. But there are other possibilities, are there not?]
Are you…trying to instruct me right now?
[I wouldn’t want you to think I’m neglecting your education.]
She is seriously kissing ass. I’m not angry about her scheming. It would be the same as being angry at a storm cloud for pouring rain. It is simply doing what it is meant to do.
[While I am always eager to demonstrate my value, my summoner, this remains a valuable opportunity. We have tried all manner of instruction except one. One already proven effective. Hands-on application. Humor me. We have time before he reaches his place and the duel begins.]
I take in the glacial pace of the young hunter. His foot is halfway in the air and poised to move forward. Fine, I’ll humor you. But isn’t my way the best way?
[Is it?]
I suppose I could drain the heat from those flasks from a distance. Ugh, dimension variables. Less mana intensive than distance variables but far more complicated. Oh! I suppose I could throw him backward and light him up. Let him breathe in the poison on his own.
[A more effective tactic for a group but valid. Is that all?]
Hm…
[Would you like a hint?]
I’ve got it. Saints damn succubus. Excuse me for not thinking at the same rate as an immortal being that’s been plotting the downfall of creatures big and small for centuries, if not more.
[Very well. No rush.]
Hmm…Maybe…no, I don’t want to expose those secrets. At the end of the day, it boils down to stopping the mixture or knocking him aside, no matter what means I choose to do it with. Right? That’s it. There’s no other answer.
[If your goal was merely to win. But is that your goal?]
…no.
[Then what is your goal?]
To stall for time while Kierra recovers her mana. Oh, and to make the hunters despair so they’ll surrender before they’re all slaughtered. Can’t believe I’m the only person trying to save these people. When did I become the most soft-hearted of the group? Not even Cloud urged restraint when she heard about the March, simply wishing us luck in battle.
[I believe I should allow another to weigh in.]
{Hm?} Rolly’s chiming voice echoes in my mind. {What is…oh? Oh hoh! I did not know you capable of a mind table!}
A mind table?
{A translation, of course. Its name is far more elegant in my own tongue. You should consider altering the range of your senses and voice. With your current body, there are many things you will miss and several creatures you could never converse with. Most are wary of mind-to-mind contact.}
Ah. Something to think about but the mind table thing. You make it sound like it’s more than speeding up thoughts.
{Oh, my poor, young summoner. So little you have seen. So little you know. This isn’t merely altering how you feel time. She has connected to the whole of your perceptions. Close your eyes and she could take you anywhere. It is a journey of a lifetime that can be taken in stolen moments. A wondrous and much valued skill…in the right hands.}
…but why call it a mind table?
{That is all you have to ask?} The lueorale’s voice is tinged with exasperation. {Again, it is a translation. The descriptor is changed based on the magnitude of the spell. Between two or three minds, it’s a table. A dozen? A mind…room, I guess. A couple dozen? A mind manor. So on and so forth. There are species that exist only in their thoughts, normally the strongest of them creating a mind world that can connect millions of minds.}
[If you are done with story time, shall we continue with the education of our summoner? I wouldn’t want this to go on so long Lou forgets what we’re doing here.]
{Ah, yes. There is danger in cutting yourself from the flow of time. Then? What are we doing?}
[Her opponent is about to sacrifice himself to kill her. On his body are mixtures that he will heat with a spell and throw towards her. The gas will rapidly spread to cover the entirety of the field. How would you achieve victory?]
{Assuming I don’t have our summoner’s ridiculous body?}
[Restricting yourself to the fire and wind affinity.]
{Ha! Drain the heat from the area and put an arrow of flame through his head. No flasks there. Throw him away and let him explode on his own. Wait for him to throw the poison and jump. Even if you don’t fly, you can stay up there long enough for your opponent to die and to maintain fairness, the duke will have the poison cleared. Wind could be fast enough to take off his head and stop his spell if it’s channeled. Shatter the flasks with a burst of wind. Doubt he’s targeting the mixture itself rather than its container with his spell.}
Ah, she basically said the same things as me. Except for the air thing. Didn’t think to simply run. And why would I? I don’t need to run from much of anything.
[Then, how would you inflict fear in the other hunters?]
{Too easy. Nothing.}
Nothing?
{Think of it. A desperate man steps before the villain, ready to lay down his life for victory. His weapon, a poison that will kill him just the same as his hated enemy. He uses his diabolical mixture, roaring in pained victory even as it eats him from the inside out, because it is all worth it so long as he takes you with him. The hunters avert their eyes, saying a prayer for their fallen comrade. The cloud of death clears. Their friend lies dead. And you? You stand there, slightly puzzled and completely unharmed. Utterly flabbergasted how an insect thought it could possibly harm you. Exasperated by the knowledge that the fool has wasted your time so completely.}
The creature giggles. {You balk from inflicting terror and horror. Then assault them with apathy. Make them realize that though they may be willing to sacrifice everything, even their lives, it is all pointless. You are the end. The indomitable. The inevitable. Take away their hope and their purpose and who could muster any strength to raise arms? Of course, it’s not as simple as standing there looking serious. Allow me to show you how to be a proper villain, my summoner.}
