Elara noticed the effect of the Little Guardian’s efforts immediately. While some might have been forced to wait longer as the magical liquid seeped through muscle and bone, Elara’s mana-attuned senses made the smallest of changes obvious.
The golden liquid, somehow different from the previous drops that had only healed her self-inflicted injuries, forced a great many changes on her in short order - muscles became stronger, bones became denser, and even her mind seemed as if it had begun to accelerate.
It was power in liquid form, and her body began to drink it greedily, eager to accept it.
She twitched backwards as another puppet jerked forwards, their open jaws clamping down on the empty air. A miss, but just barely. Elara, still feeling as if she was observing the world around her in slow-motion, met the puppet’s eyes.
They were surrounded by veins of green and black, a mottled mass that was as horrible as it was disturbingly familiar. They twisted and writhed on the surface of the puppet’s skin, though Elara knew that their roots reached far deeper than that - and yet, not deep enough to entirely destroy the person hidden within.
Like many of the puppets around her, Elara recognized this one. His name was Coran; an annoying braggart honestly, one that always had a more outrageous tale to tell - none of which were true.
Her hand lashed out in a closed fist. Her muscles, filled with borrowed strength, caused the punch to blur in the air despite her heightened senses. Her mouth opened to form an apology.
“Sorry, Coran.”
His jaw shattered, a few teeth lost in the mist that floated around them. She fought back a wince, knowing that the boy trapped inside the puppet would have been forced to feel every bit of the agony that came with it. Hopefully he wouldn’t hold it against her.
The puppet fell to the side, broken jaw flapping mindlessly. She stomped mercilessly, shattering one of its knees before it could get back up.
Even if the puppets didn’t feel any pain, they could still be crippled. Unlike her, they didn’t heal. And they wouldn’t, not until Elara managed to clear the spores around them.
Her eyes focused on the two mushrooms that hid behind the gathered puppets, still releasing constant puffs of spores into the mist around them. She clamped down on the outrage that came with seeing one of them; it sprouted from a human corpse, one that had found the sweet embrace of death that Elara herself had once desperately hoped for. At its size, she could tell that it hadn’t been very long ago.
Just a little longer, and you could have been set free.
There was a flash of motion from the corner of her eye as the puppet that was Rowan, still spearless, darted towards her again. He was faster than the others, his body both fresh and honed by the life of a Seeker.
She threw up an arm, catching his charge. Covered in heavy armor like he was, the man struck with more force than she expected. Her bones creaked, but, temporarily strengthened by the Little Guardian’s efforts, held firm.
Elara slid down and slightly to the side as another puppet - one that she recognized as one of Coran’s sisters, though she couldn’t quite remember her name - tried to take advantage of the lull in combat. Her feet slid against the carpet of dead spores, but Elara’s balance was better than it had ever been. As she was now, she would only fall if she intended to.
She did, falling to one knee and meeting the mindless puppet’s charge with her free shoulder, careful to keep the Little Guardian back safely. The snake hissed as she shoved herself upward at an angle, the altered momentum sending the woman helplessly flying overhead.
Hopefully, the spores that were controlling her wouldn’t have the presence of mind to retrieve the spear. She somehow doubted that they would.
Rowan’s body swung at her from the side, having recovered from her sudden disappearance. Still, strong as he was, he was far less dangerous than before - though no less difficult to put down, with the way that much of his body was covered in the mana-imbued armor that Elara sadly lacked. His spear, enchanted with the mana of Orken’s captive Core, would have been able to easily pierce through the resistance of her makeshift armor. And yet, with the dangerous weapon buried in the mists behind her, Elara simply braced herself and took the hit.
A heavy bruise bloomed beneath her skin, blood pooling below the surface.
She ignored it, darting forward again and leaving her attacker behind. Maybe, unlike the other puppets, he would think to retrieve the spear before following. Maybe not.
Either way, as long as Elara moved fast enough, it wouldn’t matter.
Lesser Core Skill: [Life - Vigor I] Increased.
[Life - Vigor II] Acquired.
It was easy to see the drops of vigor take effect; The Grateful One’s movements, already unnaturally graceful and near-prescient in response to the corrupted Coreless around her, suddenly reached another level entirely. I let out a few cheering hisses, but most of the sound was greedily swallowed by the mists around us. I would have given them a disapproving hiss in return for the insult, but I was sure that they would have swallowed that just as greedily.
Fortunately, it seemed that The Grateful One managed to do just fine without the sounds of encouragement in her ear, crippling another corrupted Coreless. In the next few moments, she managed to block a charge, send another corrupted flying through the air, and more.
And then we were off again, darting towards the Little Puppeteers that the corrupted had tried to defend.
Her hands reached down towards the fangs at her sides as we moved, freeing them at last. They didn’t glow with the same mana-light that the fangs of the Great Core’s other disciples did, but I knew that it wouldn’t matter.
As dangerous as their spores were, the Little Puppeteers themselves were weak; their flesh was as soft and easy to tear. Vulnerable.
The Grateful One slid on the spore-covered ground, and the air whistled directly overhead. A series of thought-hisses turned my gaze upward, and I saw that one of the corrupted had tried to slow us down. Somehow, The Grateful One had noticed when I had not.
Ore-flesh flashed, the mana-light of my own ore-flesh glinting off of it as The Grateful One’s fangs cut through the air.
The first of the Little Puppeteers fell; the second hardly lasted any longer.
Almost immediately, I noticed a change in the air, one that heralded the Great Core’s victory. One by one, spores around us began to die - never to be replaced. The mist began to thin. It was only a small circle of cleared air, one that was centered around the now-dead Little Puppeteer’s area of influence, but it was more than enough.
The Grateful One quickly managed to cripple the remaining Corrupted, shattering their limbs before they could return to the mists outside of our newly-created bastion. One by one they fell, leaving only a final enemy to defeat.
The corrupted Coreless held his ore-flesh-tipped rod, having pulled it free from its trappings of dead spore-flesh during the time that The Grateful One was dealing with the others. Yet, rather than fight, the spores were forcing him to retreat into the mist.
Even they, stupid and mindless as they were, could foresee the imminence of the Great Core’s victory. To that effect, I let out a victorious hiss, exulting in how no spore-mist remained to swallow it.
The Grateful One, urged on by my glorious hiss, darted forward again. With the remnants of [Life - Vigor] infusing her form, she caught up easily. With the healing that the [Little Guardian’s Totem] around his neck was providing, it was even easier; the retreating corrupted started to twitch and stagger, the spore-roots infesting his body starting to die out.
When we appeared before him, The Grateful One swept his legs, forcing him to the ground. From there, she pinned him down and simply held out a hand, forming a bridge to his exposed flesh. I flowed down its path like a stream of mana-water, quick and unrelenting.
My fangs sunk down, releasing a stream of vitality and securing the Great Core’s victory.
Lesser Core Skill: [Life - Vitality II] Increased.
[Life - Vitality III] Acquired.
As the corrupted disciple became once-corrupted, I sent out another thought-hiss. This one caused my body to turn, forcing it to slither towards the others. With a source of mana-water to refill my reservoirs nearby, I wouldn’t need to conserve my mana for later. They, too, could become once-corrupted rather than filthy corrupted.
They could be brought under the Great Core’s light.
I was sure that they would be appreciative.
Zendran
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Elara noticed the effect of the Little Guardian’s efforts immediately. While some might have been forced to wait longer as the magical liquid seeped through muscle and bone, Elara’s mana-attuned senses made the smallest of changes obvious.
The golden liquid, somehow different from the previous drops that had only healed her self-inflicted injuries, forced a great many changes on her in short order - muscles became stronger, bones became denser, and even her mind seemed as if it had begun to accelerate.
It was power in liquid form, and her body began to drink it greedily, eager to accept it.
She twitched backwards as another puppet jerked forwards, their open jaws clamping down on the empty air. A miss, but just barely. Elara, still feeling as if she was observing the world around her in slow-motion, met the puppet’s eyes.
They were surrounded by veins of green and black, a mottled mass that was as horrible as it was disturbingly familiar. They twisted and writhed on the surface of the puppet’s skin, though Elara knew that their roots reached far deeper than that - and yet, not deep enough to entirely destroy the person hidden within.
Like many of the puppets around her, Elara recognized this one. His name was Coran; an annoying braggart honestly, one that always had a more outrageous tale to tell - none of which were true.
Her hand lashed out in a closed fist. Her muscles, filled with borrowed strength, caused the punch to blur in the air despite her heightened senses. Her mouth opened to form an apology.
“Sorry, Coran.”
His jaw shattered, a few teeth lost in the mist that floated around them. She fought back a wince, knowing that the boy trapped inside the puppet would have been forced to feel every bit of the agony that came with it. Hopefully he wouldn’t hold it against her.
The puppet fell to the side, broken jaw flapping mindlessly. She stomped mercilessly, shattering one of its knees before it could get back up.
Even if the puppets didn’t feel any pain, they could still be crippled. Unlike her, they didn’t heal. And they wouldn’t, not until Elara managed to clear the spores around them.
Her eyes focused on the two mushrooms that hid behind the gathered puppets, still releasing constant puffs of spores into the mist around them. She clamped down on the outrage that came with seeing one of them; it sprouted from a human corpse, one that had found the sweet embrace of death that Elara herself had once desperately hoped for. At its size, she could tell that it hadn’t been very long ago.
Just a little longer, and you could have been set free.
There was a flash of motion from the corner of her eye as the puppet that was Rowan, still spearless, darted towards her again. He was faster than the others, his body both fresh and honed by the life of a Seeker.
She threw up an arm, catching his charge. Covered in heavy armor like he was, the man struck with more force than she expected. Her bones creaked, but, temporarily strengthened by the Little Guardian’s efforts, held firm.
Elara slid down and slightly to the side as another puppet - one that she recognized as one of Coran’s sisters, though she couldn’t quite remember her name - tried to take advantage of the lull in combat. Her feet slid against the carpet of dead spores, but Elara’s balance was better than it had ever been. As she was now, she would only fall if she intended to.
She did, falling to one knee and meeting the mindless puppet’s charge with her free shoulder, careful to keep the Little Guardian back safely. The snake hissed as she shoved herself upward at an angle, the altered momentum sending the woman helplessly flying overhead.
Hopefully, the spores that were controlling her wouldn’t have the presence of mind to retrieve the spear. She somehow doubted that they would.
Rowan’s body swung at her from the side, having recovered from her sudden disappearance. Still, strong as he was, he was far less dangerous than before - though no less difficult to put down, with the way that much of his body was covered in the mana-imbued armor that Elara sadly lacked. His spear, enchanted with the mana of Orken’s captive Core, would have been able to easily pierce through the resistance of her makeshift armor. And yet, with the dangerous weapon buried in the mists behind her, Elara simply braced herself and took the hit.
A heavy bruise bloomed beneath her skin, blood pooling below the surface.
She ignored it, darting forward again and leaving her attacker behind. Maybe, unlike the other puppets, he would think to retrieve the spear before following. Maybe not.
Either way, as long as Elara moved fast enough, it wouldn’t matter.
Lesser Core Skill: [Life - Vigor I] Increased.
[Life - Vigor II] Acquired.
It was easy to see the drops of vigor take effect; The Grateful One’s movements, already unnaturally graceful and near-prescient in response to the corrupted Coreless around her, suddenly reached another level entirely. I let out a few cheering hisses, but most of the sound was greedily swallowed by the mists around us. I would have given them a disapproving hiss in return for the insult, but I was sure that they would have swallowed that just as greedily.
Fortunately, it seemed that The Grateful One managed to do just fine without the sounds of encouragement in her ear, crippling another corrupted Coreless. In the next few moments, she managed to block a charge, send another corrupted flying through the air, and more.
And then we were off again, darting towards the Little Puppeteers that the corrupted had tried to defend.
Her hands reached down towards the fangs at her sides as we moved, freeing them at last. They didn’t glow with the same mana-light that the fangs of the Great Core’s other disciples did, but I knew that it wouldn’t matter.
As dangerous as their spores were, the Little Puppeteers themselves were weak; their flesh was as soft and easy to tear. Vulnerable.
The Grateful One slid on the spore-covered ground, and the air whistled directly overhead. A series of thought-hisses turned my gaze upward, and I saw that one of the corrupted had tried to slow us down. Somehow, The Grateful One had noticed when I had not.
Ore-flesh flashed, the mana-light of my own ore-flesh glinting off of it as The Grateful One’s fangs cut through the air.
The first of the Little Puppeteers fell; the second hardly lasted any longer.
Almost immediately, I noticed a change in the air, one that heralded the Great Core’s victory. One by one, spores around us began to die - never to be replaced. The mist began to thin. It was only a small circle of cleared air, one that was centered around the now-dead Little Puppeteer’s area of influence, but it was more than enough.
The Grateful One quickly managed to cripple the remaining Corrupted, shattering their limbs before they could return to the mists outside of our newly-created bastion. One by one they fell, leaving only a final enemy to defeat.
The corrupted Coreless held his ore-flesh-tipped rod, having pulled it free from its trappings of dead spore-flesh during the time that The Grateful One was dealing with the others. Yet, rather than fight, the spores were forcing him to retreat into the mist.
Even they, stupid and mindless as they were, could foresee the imminence of the Great Core’s victory. To that effect, I let out a victorious hiss, exulting in how no spore-mist remained to swallow it.
The Grateful One, urged on by my glorious hiss, darted forward again. With the remnants of [Life - Vigor] infusing her form, she caught up easily. With the healing that the [Little Guardian’s Totem] around his neck was providing, it was even easier; the retreating corrupted started to twitch and stagger, the spore-roots infesting his body starting to die out.
When we appeared before him, The Grateful One swept his legs, forcing him to the ground. From there, she pinned him down and simply held out a hand, forming a bridge to his exposed flesh. I flowed down its path like a stream of mana-water, quick and unrelenting.
My fangs sunk down, releasing a stream of vitality and securing the Great Core’s victory.
Lesser Core Skill: [Life - Vitality II] Increased.
[Life - Vitality III] Acquired.
As the corrupted disciple became once-corrupted, I sent out another thought-hiss. This one caused my body to turn, forcing it to slither towards the others. With a source of mana-water to refill my reservoirs nearby, I wouldn’t need to conserve my mana for later. They, too, could become once-corrupted rather than filthy corrupted.
They could be brought under the Great Core’s light.
I was sure that they would be appreciative.
Zendran
As the first day of the month, today is the best day to subscribe to my Patreon and read 30 chapters ahead!
Discord
(Make sure to select a role to view the server's channels)
