How did things come to this?
“Ahhhh!”
“Fucking bitch!” A hunter wielding twin short swords leaps at Kierra, four more swords hovering behind him. My wife throws away the hunter currently in her grasp to dodge the flurry of attacks. The barrage is interrupted by a spike of earth pushing through the attacker’s heel. Kierra uses the opening to leap at him, clawed hands reaching for his throat. She tackles them to the ground and both are engulfed by fire—
“Oof!” The air is knocked out of me as something slams into my chest. A man, wearing a helm that exposes his scarred face, wielding the bastard child of a warhammer and a mace. I catch a quick glance of his sneer as I tumble backwards, cursing the stupid turn of events that led to me being pummeled by multiple hunters.
Damn my savage elf of a wife that couldn’t take the easy victory. And my future saint who is too cold and vindictive when it comes to her family. And her absolute idiot of her brother who doubles down when given the chance to retreat. Who in their right mind would continue this farce in this situation?
Ah, wait. Of course he did. He’s a man of Victory, the son of the James. All they know is how to fight losing—
Hot air rushes over me the moment I come to a stop. I tear off my scorched undershirt, the skin underneath unharmed. As I try to get to my feet, they slide on ice that appears beneath me and I am helped to the ground by the sneering hunter with a powerful blow to my back.
I roll as the mace-hammer lands where my head would have been, kicking out at the man’s leg. He screams as the bone is snapped. It’s not enough to distract him, a large blow of fire exploding my face and throwing me away.
Again, I try to get to my feet but am foiled by two spells accurately hitting me behind the knees. A hunter with a spear dashes toward me. They jab at me, intending to spear me through the heart. I catch the shaft, landing on my back while channeling a spell. My attacker leans out of the way of the flame arrow aimed at their face but fails to pull their spear out of my grip. I yank on it, sending them stumbling toward me. He lands on top of me with a grunt and I don’t give him a moment to react before I grab his head and headbutt him, denting his helm.
Saints damn it all, this would be so much easier if I could have a moment to catch my breath! The bastards are keeping me on the ground, where I can’t leverage my full strength against them. Geneva! What are you doing while these bastards harass your summoner?
[I am engaged defending your sun.] Because when challenged, of course Alana jumped into the fight. On one hand, I’m glad she trusts us enough to keep her safe in the middle of this but on the other hand, she’s a point of vulnerability that limits what my succubi can do. [Would you prefer I stop?]
I almost look in her direction but stop myself. Done that enough times in this fight to realize distractions cost. No, keep on her, but this is annoying.
[Then do something about it. Or grit your teeth and bear it until we’ve finished with the others.] Her words are punctuated by a loud explosion, a wave of heat turning the snow around me into slurry.
Suddenly, the dead hunter is pulled off me, dragged through the snow by his ankle. I jump to my feet, channeling a spell. Expecting something to knock me off my feet in seconds, a burst of wind extends from me. It’s just strong enough to disperse most of the force of the fireball aimed at me and gives me a moment, a single moment, to take in my surroundings.
I’m surrounded. The fodder fighters are dead, lost in the initial chaos of the all-out brawl. All that’s left is the competent ones, the weaker hunters held together by the named hunters directing them. Half a dozen of their eyes glow, preparing to launch spells as someone in full plate carrying a large shield rushes me.
I can last. I can bear it. Take the beating until the others finish off the rest. It might be the smarter move, as it’d allow me to keep my secrets.
There’s one problem. I’m angry. There’s only so many times I can have my nose ground into the dirt, literally, before my patience is thinned. This wasn’t part of the plan but I think I’m the only one who cares about that. Kierra…saints, I don’t know what she cares about right now. Alana is focused on winning. Not to mention, the longer this goes on, the larger the chance that a mistake is made or something unexpected puts Alana in danger.
So I make a decision.
I run toward the shield wielder but before we collide, I leap over them. Something they expect as they throw out their hand and a thick, black chain wraps around my ankle. They don’t expect my solid leg to turn to purple ooze and slip from its hold before reforming to flesh.
I land in the snow. One moment before someone else tries something to knock me down. I need to break their formation. If they’re not systematically controlling my movements, I can take them out easily.
Touching the part of my mind that allows me to change my form with ease, I search for the biggest one available. I smile as the form comes to mind and mentally will myself to take its shape.
But there’s resistance. Something new. Instinctively, I know that it’s too big. I don’t have enough ooze to complete the transformation. I don’t have time to search for something new so I take a part of it. That’s acceptable and in a breath, the transformation is complete.
“Ahh! AHHH!”
“What the fuck?!”
“Saints protect—”
That’s all they have time to say before the tentacle large enough to stretch the length of the capital it seems sprouts from my back, sweeps across the field, crushing the hunters like a palm squashing insects. The next moment it’s gone. I couldn’t move with such a heavy weight unbalancing me. For the moment I had it, the limb was unbearably heavy. The full creature must be ginormous.
But that’s something to think about later. The shield wielder, stunned by the sudden transformation and the loss of their comrades, is unprepared for me. They aren’t meant to take me down, just keep me contained while the others launch their spells.
Without those spells, without others behind them, they’re just a metal target.
I slam into them. Amazingly, they bear the brunt of my attack without flinching. Or not so surprising. They wouldn’t have been chosen for this role if they couldn’t do so.
[Hold your breath, my summoner.]
The ground rumbles as a chain wraps around my throat, pulling my head back. That’s all it can manage against my strength. From the corner of my eyes, I see a wave of dirt and ice rising above the circle, tall us to cover us all. Kierra is fighting on the crest of the wave, grappling with another hunter.
Looking down at my opponent, I instinctively change my insides, turning everything below my neck to ooze. A passage forms from my gut and the poisonous cloud I swallowed earlier is spewed forth. My opponent’s armor does nothing to stop it. The poor woman, I realize from her voice, has a moment to scream but she quickly begins to gurgle. The chain around my neck slackens as a wave of earth buries us and the small cloud of gas.
I easily manage to hold my breath until the earth settles. Then, nails transformed to the claws of a mamaroon, I claw my way to the surface—
My body goes numb as my vision twists. I was just looking at the sky and now I’m on my side, eyes parallel with the ground. There’s something sticking out of it. A long neck that ends in a clean cut, exposing bloody meat and a hint of white bone. Is that…
“Fucking finally,” a voice says.
“I thought she’d never die. Why did you take so long?”
“Don’t give me that. She wouldn’t be dead at all if not for me. Fire doesn’t burn her, nothing can pierce her skin, our strongest fighter couldn’t crush her. On top of all that, the space around her is weird. That spell consumed way too much mana. I had to get it right.”
“I hope you’ve got enough for the elf. She’s just as impossible to put down.”
With a thought, I relax. My awareness shifts from my severed head back to my body as I revert to ooze. My fatal wound is transformed into a small inconvenience, as my head reverts to a small piece of me.
“Oi. Oi oi oi, what the fuck?”
This is a secret that wasn’t meant to be shared. At least not to this extent. Who would have expected that they had a null caster? I pull myself out of the earth and move toward my severed piece. It’s a simple matter who reabsorb it. Then I transform into my prime form.
A sharp intake of breath draws my attention to two hunters. The man in the blue robe and a hunter with a sword in his hand. The one with the sword squeals when he notices my attention and turns to run. An instinctive reaction. After all, there’s nowhere he can go. But, since he’s not an issue, I turn to the null caster. I’m too used to the Hall. His blue robe led me to believe he was a water caster.
“Fuck,” he mutters. Then a knife goes through his skull.
I turn to see Kierra walking toward me, clothes torn, covered in blood, and holding two hunters in an extra pair of hands. She tosses the corpses away and the arms retract with a disturbing show of rippling flesh. She palms one of her knives, tossing it up and down. The smile on her face is beatific and endlessly aggravating.
“Good, my love? The blue one got in a nice hit.”
“You mean taking my head off?” I snap. Her smile stays in place which only aggravates me further so I turn away, scanning the rest of the battlefield.
It seems everything’s over. Only one enemy is on their feet. Well, their knees. The man Zachariah called upon to defend his shredded reputation is on his knees. Geneva stands behind him, holding his arms to his sides and his head back with her tail wrapped around his forehead.
Alana stands before him, dirty and scraped but whole, with her radiant sword pressed against his neck. At her feet sits Bell, who is showing signs of exhaustion, head drooping but eyes alert.
“It’s over?” I ask.
“Yes.” Kierra moves toward me but I edge away. “All that’s left is the final blow.”
The moment drags on before the man scoffs. Despite his many injuries, the tall man doesn’t so much as grimace show and his voice is calm despite his impending death. “You’ve brought some real monsters here, girl.”
“Are those your final words?” she asks.
“No. Don’t war with your brother. With both of you, Victory will be stronger than ever.”
“After he just tried to have me killed?”
“You were supposed to reject that condition.”
“And allow his strategist to guide the hunters into battle?”
“Would it have made a difference?”
“No but Ollie is a much greater lost than you.’
He chuckles. “To think anyone ever said you aren’t a James…he won’t forgive you for this.”
“I’ll take responsibility for my actions. Just like you both must take responsibility for yours.”
She swings her sword and decapitates him in one smooth stroke. Unfortunately, Zach’s man isn’t me. He can’t just shrug off the fatal wound. His corpse falls to the earth and it doesn’t get back up.
How did things come to this?
“Ahhhh!”
“Fucking bitch!” A hunter wielding twin short swords leaps at Kierra, four more swords hovering behind him. My wife throws away the hunter currently in her grasp to dodge the flurry of attacks. The barrage is interrupted by a spike of earth pushing through the attacker’s heel. Kierra uses the opening to leap at him, clawed hands reaching for his throat. She tackles them to the ground and both are engulfed by fire—
“Oof!” The air is knocked out of me as something slams into my chest. A man, wearing a helm that exposes his scarred face, wielding the bastard child of a warhammer and a mace. I catch a quick glance of his sneer as I tumble backwards, cursing the stupid turn of events that led to me being pummeled by multiple hunters.
Damn my savage elf of a wife that couldn’t take the easy victory. And my future saint who is too cold and vindictive when it comes to her family. And her absolute idiot of her brother who doubles down when given the chance to retreat. Who in their right mind would continue this farce in this situation?
Ah, wait. Of course he did. He’s a man of Victory, the son of the James. All they know is how to fight losing—
Hot air rushes over me the moment I come to a stop. I tear off my scorched undershirt, the skin underneath unharmed. As I try to get to my feet, they slide on ice that appears beneath me and I am helped to the ground by the sneering hunter with a powerful blow to my back.
I roll as the mace-hammer lands where my head would have been, kicking out at the man’s leg. He screams as the bone is snapped. It’s not enough to distract him, a large blow of fire exploding my face and throwing me away.
Again, I try to get to my feet but am foiled by two spells accurately hitting me behind the knees. A hunter with a spear dashes toward me. They jab at me, intending to spear me through the heart. I catch the shaft, landing on my back while channeling a spell. My attacker leans out of the way of the flame arrow aimed at their face but fails to pull their spear out of my grip. I yank on it, sending them stumbling toward me. He lands on top of me with a grunt and I don’t give him a moment to react before I grab his head and headbutt him, denting his helm.
Saints damn it all, this would be so much easier if I could have a moment to catch my breath! The bastards are keeping me on the ground, where I can’t leverage my full strength against them. Geneva! What are you doing while these bastards harass your summoner?
[I am engaged defending your sun.] Because when challenged, of course Alana jumped into the fight. On one hand, I’m glad she trusts us enough to keep her safe in the middle of this but on the other hand, she’s a point of vulnerability that limits what my succubi can do. [Would you prefer I stop?]
I almost look in her direction but stop myself. Done that enough times in this fight to realize distractions cost. No, keep on her, but this is annoying.
[Then do something about it. Or grit your teeth and bear it until we’ve finished with the others.] Her words are punctuated by a loud explosion, a wave of heat turning the snow around me into slurry.
Suddenly, the dead hunter is pulled off me, dragged through the snow by his ankle. I jump to my feet, channeling a spell. Expecting something to knock me off my feet in seconds, a burst of wind extends from me. It’s just strong enough to disperse most of the force of the fireball aimed at me and gives me a moment, a single moment, to take in my surroundings.
I’m surrounded. The fodder fighters are dead, lost in the initial chaos of the all-out brawl. All that’s left is the competent ones, the weaker hunters held together by the named hunters directing them. Half a dozen of their eyes glow, preparing to launch spells as someone in full plate carrying a large shield rushes me.
I can last. I can bear it. Take the beating until the others finish off the rest. It might be the smarter move, as it’d allow me to keep my secrets.
There’s one problem. I’m angry. There’s only so many times I can have my nose ground into the dirt, literally, before my patience is thinned. This wasn’t part of the plan but I think I’m the only one who cares about that. Kierra…saints, I don’t know what she cares about right now. Alana is focused on winning. Not to mention, the longer this goes on, the larger the chance that a mistake is made or something unexpected puts Alana in danger.
So I make a decision.
I run toward the shield wielder but before we collide, I leap over them. Something they expect as they throw out their hand and a thick, black chain wraps around my ankle. They don’t expect my solid leg to turn to purple ooze and slip from its hold before reforming to flesh.
I land in the snow. One moment before someone else tries something to knock me down. I need to break their formation. If they’re not systematically controlling my movements, I can take them out easily.
Touching the part of my mind that allows me to change my form with ease, I search for the biggest one available. I smile as the form comes to mind and mentally will myself to take its shape.
But there’s resistance. Something new. Instinctively, I know that it’s too big. I don’t have enough ooze to complete the transformation. I don’t have time to search for something new so I take a part of it. That’s acceptable and in a breath, the transformation is complete.
“Ahh! AHHH!”
“What the fuck?!”
“Saints protect—”
That’s all they have time to say before the tentacle large enough to stretch the length of the capital it seems sprouts from my back, sweeps across the field, crushing the hunters like a palm squashing insects. The next moment it’s gone. I couldn’t move with such a heavy weight unbalancing me. For the moment I had it, the limb was unbearably heavy. The full creature must be ginormous.
But that’s something to think about later. The shield wielder, stunned by the sudden transformation and the loss of their comrades, is unprepared for me. They aren’t meant to take me down, just keep me contained while the others launch their spells.
Without those spells, without others behind them, they’re just a metal target.
I slam into them. Amazingly, they bear the brunt of my attack without flinching. Or not so surprising. They wouldn’t have been chosen for this role if they couldn’t do so.
[Hold your breath, my summoner.]
The ground rumbles as a chain wraps around my throat, pulling my head back. That’s all it can manage against my strength. From the corner of my eyes, I see a wave of dirt and ice rising above the circle, tall us to cover us all. Kierra is fighting on the crest of the wave, grappling with another hunter.
Looking down at my opponent, I instinctively change my insides, turning everything below my neck to ooze. A passage forms from my gut and the poisonous cloud I swallowed earlier is spewed forth. My opponent’s armor does nothing to stop it. The poor woman, I realize from her voice, has a moment to scream but she quickly begins to gurgle. The chain around my neck slackens as a wave of earth buries us and the small cloud of gas.
I easily manage to hold my breath until the earth settles. Then, nails transformed to the claws of a mamaroon, I claw my way to the surface—
My body goes numb as my vision twists. I was just looking at the sky and now I’m on my side, eyes parallel with the ground. There’s something sticking out of it. A long neck that ends in a clean cut, exposing bloody meat and a hint of white bone. Is that…
“Fucking finally,” a voice says.
“I thought she’d never die. Why did you take so long?”
“Don’t give me that. She wouldn’t be dead at all if not for me. Fire doesn’t burn her, nothing can pierce her skin, our strongest fighter couldn’t crush her. On top of all that, the space around her is weird. That spell consumed way too much mana. I had to get it right.”
“I hope you’ve got enough for the elf. She’s just as impossible to put down.”
With a thought, I relax. My awareness shifts from my severed head back to my body as I revert to ooze. My fatal wound is transformed into a small inconvenience, as my head reverts to a small piece of me.
“Oi. Oi oi oi, what the fuck?”
This is a secret that wasn’t meant to be shared. At least not to this extent. Who would have expected that they had a null caster? I pull myself out of the earth and move toward my severed piece. It’s a simple matter who reabsorb it. Then I transform into my prime form.
A sharp intake of breath draws my attention to two hunters. The man in the blue robe and a hunter with a sword in his hand. The one with the sword squeals when he notices my attention and turns to run. An instinctive reaction. After all, there’s nowhere he can go. But, since he’s not an issue, I turn to the null caster. I’m too used to the Hall. His blue robe led me to believe he was a water caster.
“Fuck,” he mutters. Then a knife goes through his skull.
I turn to see Kierra walking toward me, clothes torn, covered in blood, and holding two hunters in an extra pair of hands. She tosses the corpses away and the arms retract with a disturbing show of rippling flesh. She palms one of her knives, tossing it up and down. The smile on her face is beatific and endlessly aggravating.
“Good, my love? The blue one got in a nice hit.”
“You mean taking my head off?” I snap. Her smile stays in place which only aggravates me further so I turn away, scanning the rest of the battlefield.
It seems everything’s over. Only one enemy is on their feet. Well, their knees. The man Zachariah called upon to defend his shredded reputation is on his knees. Geneva stands behind him, holding his arms to his sides and his head back with her tail wrapped around his forehead.
Alana stands before him, dirty and scraped but whole, with her radiant sword pressed against his neck. At her feet sits Bell, who is showing signs of exhaustion, head drooping but eyes alert.
“It’s over?” I ask.
“Yes.” Kierra moves toward me but I edge away. “All that’s left is the final blow.”
The moment drags on before the man scoffs. Despite his many injuries, the tall man doesn’t so much as grimace show and his voice is calm despite his impending death. “You’ve brought some real monsters here, girl.”
“Are those your final words?” she asks.
“No. Don’t war with your brother. With both of you, Victory will be stronger than ever.”
“After he just tried to have me killed?”
“You were supposed to reject that condition.”
“And allow his strategist to guide the hunters into battle?”
“Would it have made a difference?”
“No but Ollie is a much greater lost than you.’
He chuckles. “To think anyone ever said you aren’t a James…he won’t forgive you for this.”
“I’ll take responsibility for my actions. Just like you both must take responsibility for yours.”
She swings her sword and decapitates him in one smooth stroke. Unfortunately, Zach’s man isn’t me. He can’t just shrug off the fatal wound. His corpse falls to the earth and it doesn’t get back up.
