First things first, though. My body was still in terrible shape; without my spore-roots to hold it together, I wasn’t even sure that I could move at all. My many shattered ribs, free from the bindings that held them together, might have been left to slice through flesh with every slither.
Even now, I could tell that things were getting worse. Driven by the uncaring grasp of my spore-roots, I wasn’t necessarily moving any slower, but the pain...the pain was becoming far worse. It needed to be dealt with.
I twisted around under a new thought-hiss, trying to ignore the flaring sensation of pain that it brought, forcing my fangs to seek out my tail. They found it, sinking through scale-flesh with a far greater ease than they had Will’s skin-flesh.
Then, with [The Snake That Eats Its Own Tail] already activated and beginning the healing process, I let drops of vitality flow through my fangs. [Life - Vigorous Spores] fought against its touch, the spore-roots it had created managing to hold out longer than their normal counterparts. Yet, in the end, they succumbed to the touch of vitality just like their weaker brethren. Coiled tendrils lost their hold on shattered bone, forcing the broken shards to slip and slide against irritated flesh before the flow of vitality finally made me whole again.
When it finished, I let out a quiet hiss, revelling in the ability to simply do it myself.
Then, after that small moment of freedom, I infected myself anew. Drops of vigor spilled towards the reservoirs of [Spore Puppeteer], soaking into the spore-flesh that waited inside. Roots of gold and blue stretched across my inner flesh, wrapping themselves this way and that.
A thought-hiss let me turn and look towards the Coreless. The disciples were talking to one another in hushed tones, occasionally glancing in my direction.
I braced myself, gathering a few more bits of light for [Illusion Spark]’s reserves.
This wouldn’t be easy, I knew, but it was necessary.
Light spilled from my scales, slowly taking shape.
“Dead,” his father said again, face lined with disapproval.
Erik, his muscles trembling from the continued exertion, lifted his shield again. It was a heavy, giant thing. Almost oversized for his not-yet-fully-grown height and too heavy again by half. It burned. It hurt. His arm dropped again.
The air whistled, a blur shooting through the place where a shield had once provided protection. Erik flinched at the sound, and then flinched again at the sound that came next.
“Dead,” his father said again, sighing. “You’re not ready.”
He knew it was coming, but hearing it still hurt. The youth looked down, his too-heavy shield slumping down further.
“B-but,” he started before he could even find the right words, overcome by the need to say something, “let me try aga-”
“Erik. Look at me. There is no trying again. There are no redos, not in this life. You’re not ready yet. Look behind you - and then try to tell me again that you are.”
The teenager turned his head hesitantly. The ruined targets stared back at him balefully, each sporting a knife through their center. They were even labeled, a bit of theatricality that his father loved and Erik despised.
‘Kala’ had fallen, completely bowled over by the force of the throw. ‘Doran’ had been all but split down the middle. ‘Valera’ hadn’t fared any better.
He turned back around, too sullen to answer. That was answer enough.
“They’re dead,” his father repeated. “So how about you tell me that you’re ready again, huh? I can let you go, weak enough to fail but strong enough that you live to see your friends die first - and then, after they’re gone, you’ll die too. Go on. Tell me.”
Erik didn’t answer. Just like before, that was answer enough.
His father’s gaze softened. “Nobody is invincible,” he said, “even if your mana-infusion’s reached a high enough threshold by now that you’ve managed to convince yourself that you could be. Let me tell you; you won’t ever be, not even with your durability enhancement. As for your friends...”
He motioned towards the labeled targets. “Well, I know you’re smart enough that I don’t need to finish that thought.”
Erik hefted his new shield, bouncing it up and down in thought. It glowed with the light of mana, almost resplendent in its radiance. The symbol of a protector. It made him feel like a fraud.
‘What kind of a protector am I?’ he thought.
Neither ‘Kala’, ‘Doran’, nor ‘Valera’ answered, their splintered forms quiescent. That was answer enough.
What kind of protector am I?
Erik’s hand twitched, moving towards the head of his hammer again. He had already wiped it clean, but the blood still lingered. It probably always would.
“...Erik? Erik, can you hear me?”
Something snapped in front of his face, the sound akin to the cracking of bone. He felt the crunch that came with it, a shattering sensation that all but reverberated up the grip of his hammer. He shivered.
What kind of protector am I?
It snapped again.
“Huh, what?” he asked, looking away from the bloody hammer and towards the sound. A hand, lined with green and black, pulled itself away from his face. Elara stared at him, looking slightly concerned. She was fine, he reminded himself. Healed. Safe. Whole.
“Are you alright?” she asked. “I’ll need to head out again soon to find the others, I think that he’s almost done getting ready,” she continued, pointing behind Erik.
He turned. The Little Guardian was biting his own tail, and there were sickening shifts taking place underneath the surface of his scales. They throbbed and pulsed, the unpredictable movements intermittently causing flecks of gold and blue to reflect in the nearby light.
“I still can’t believe that the snake infected itself with those things,” Rowan said from behind, his voice tinged with unease. “It’s just creepy, and how does that even work?”
“It’s not creepy,” Elara replied, her voice pitched in that too-flat monotone that meant she was suppressing her body’s emotional responses.
“That wasn’t a very convincing argument, Miss ‘I turned off all my emotions’,” Rowan answered as Erik turned around again. “If you hadn’t, you’d probably agree with me. It’s a little creepy. And didn’t you have an agreement with Valera not to do that unless you needed to?”
“Well, I needed to,” Elara said, looking down and wiping away at a bit of blood that had dried itself on her skin. Rowan seemed to notice, casting a few glances between Erik and the formerly-injured girl.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Good as new.” A hammer falling, slamming into a lightly-armored back. “Never been better.” Bones snapping, a body starting to slump. “Not even a mark on me.” Flesh healed and destroyed, over and over again.
She gave Rowan a thumbs-up, showing her teeth.
“Dead,” his father said, face lined with disapproval.
Erik looked at his shield, radiant with light. The symbol of a protector. It made him feel like a fraud.
“Oh, looks like he’s done,” Rowan said, pointing at the Little Guardian again. The snake’s glossy black scales were covered in gold and blue lines that caught the light, each bit crisscrossing the next.
He hissed, staring right at Erik.
“You don’t think he’s upset about getting hurt, do you?” Rowan asked.
Light started to spill from the snake’s scales, slowly taking on a shape. Two figures, a bright white human and a gold-blue snake, walking through a crudely depicted mist. The human figure’s color started to take on green and black around the edges, but the white still held sway.
Soon after, another set of figures appeared, both human this time. Both marked by green and black. The two sets of figures clashed.
Overwhelmed, the lone human and snake pair died, disintegrating into motes of light until only the green-black pair remained. The illusion faded for a moment, the light shifting until something else took its place. The human and the snake were back, this time standing in front of a single figure. It had a shield in one hand and a hammer in the other.
The figures met and the snake moved forward, opening its mouth. The shield bearing figure’s color changed, shifting into golds and blues. Then, together, the three figures moved into the mists. When the figures attacked again, the human and snake lived - kept safe by their gold and blue companion.
Their protector.
When it was over, the gold and blue coating the third figure started to fade, shifting back into the purest of white.
The illusion stopped.
The snake hissed, a question without words.
What kind of protector am I?
Erik carefully knelt down, reaching out with a single hand. That was answer enough.
Zendran
In case you are unaware, the patreon chapters are currently in the beginning stages of book 3, so if you would like to read ahead to the end of book 2, please consider my subscribing to my Patreon!
Discord
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First things first, though. My body was still in terrible shape; without my spore-roots to hold it together, I wasn’t even sure that I could move at all. My many shattered ribs, free from the bindings that held them together, might have been left to slice through flesh with every slither.
Even now, I could tell that things were getting worse. Driven by the uncaring grasp of my spore-roots, I wasn’t necessarily moving any slower, but the pain...the pain was becoming far worse. It needed to be dealt with.
I twisted around under a new thought-hiss, trying to ignore the flaring sensation of pain that it brought, forcing my fangs to seek out my tail. They found it, sinking through scale-flesh with a far greater ease than they had Will’s skin-flesh.
Then, with [The Snake That Eats Its Own Tail] already activated and beginning the healing process, I let drops of vitality flow through my fangs. [Life - Vigorous Spores] fought against its touch, the spore-roots it had created managing to hold out longer than their normal counterparts. Yet, in the end, they succumbed to the touch of vitality just like their weaker brethren. Coiled tendrils lost their hold on shattered bone, forcing the broken shards to slip and slide against irritated flesh before the flow of vitality finally made me whole again.
When it finished, I let out a quiet hiss, revelling in the ability to simply do it myself.
Then, after that small moment of freedom, I infected myself anew. Drops of vigor spilled towards the reservoirs of [Spore Puppeteer], soaking into the spore-flesh that waited inside. Roots of gold and blue stretched across my inner flesh, wrapping themselves this way and that.
A thought-hiss let me turn and look towards the Coreless. The disciples were talking to one another in hushed tones, occasionally glancing in my direction.
I braced myself, gathering a few more bits of light for [Illusion Spark]’s reserves.
This wouldn’t be easy, I knew, but it was necessary.
Light spilled from my scales, slowly taking shape.
“Dead,” his father said again, face lined with disapproval.
Erik, his muscles trembling from the continued exertion, lifted his shield again. It was a heavy, giant thing. Almost oversized for his not-yet-fully-grown height and too heavy again by half. It burned. It hurt. His arm dropped again.
The air whistled, a blur shooting through the place where a shield had once provided protection. Erik flinched at the sound, and then flinched again at the sound that came next.
“Dead,” his father said again, sighing. “You’re not ready.”
He knew it was coming, but hearing it still hurt. The youth looked down, his too-heavy shield slumping down further.
“B-but,” he started before he could even find the right words, overcome by the need to say something, “let me try aga-”
“Erik. Look at me. There is no trying again. There are no redos, not in this life. You’re not ready yet. Look behind you - and then try to tell me again that you are.”
The teenager turned his head hesitantly. The ruined targets stared back at him balefully, each sporting a knife through their center. They were even labeled, a bit of theatricality that his father loved and Erik despised.
‘Kala’ had fallen, completely bowled over by the force of the throw. ‘Doran’ had been all but split down the middle. ‘Valera’ hadn’t fared any better.
He turned back around, too sullen to answer. That was answer enough.
“They’re dead,” his father repeated. “So how about you tell me that you’re ready again, huh? I can let you go, weak enough to fail but strong enough that you live to see your friends die first - and then, after they’re gone, you’ll die too. Go on. Tell me.”
Erik didn’t answer. Just like before, that was answer enough.
His father’s gaze softened. “Nobody is invincible,” he said, “even if your mana-infusion’s reached a high enough threshold by now that you’ve managed to convince yourself that you could be. Let me tell you; you won’t ever be, not even with your durability enhancement. As for your friends...”
He motioned towards the labeled targets. “Well, I know you’re smart enough that I don’t need to finish that thought.”
Erik hefted his new shield, bouncing it up and down in thought. It glowed with the light of mana, almost resplendent in its radiance. The symbol of a protector. It made him feel like a fraud.
‘What kind of a protector am I?’ he thought.
Neither ‘Kala’, ‘Doran’, nor ‘Valera’ answered, their splintered forms quiescent. That was answer enough.
What kind of protector am I?
Erik’s hand twitched, moving towards the head of his hammer again. He had already wiped it clean, but the blood still lingered. It probably always would.
“...Erik? Erik, can you hear me?”
Something snapped in front of his face, the sound akin to the cracking of bone. He felt the crunch that came with it, a shattering sensation that all but reverberated up the grip of his hammer. He shivered.
What kind of protector am I?
It snapped again.
“Huh, what?” he asked, looking away from the bloody hammer and towards the sound. A hand, lined with green and black, pulled itself away from his face. Elara stared at him, looking slightly concerned. She was fine, he reminded himself. Healed. Safe. Whole.
“Are you alright?” she asked. “I’ll need to head out again soon to find the others, I think that he’s almost done getting ready,” she continued, pointing behind Erik.
He turned. The Little Guardian was biting his own tail, and there were sickening shifts taking place underneath the surface of his scales. They throbbed and pulsed, the unpredictable movements intermittently causing flecks of gold and blue to reflect in the nearby light.
“I still can’t believe that the snake infected itself with those things,” Rowan said from behind, his voice tinged with unease. “It’s just creepy, and how does that even work?”
“It’s not creepy,” Elara replied, her voice pitched in that too-flat monotone that meant she was suppressing her body’s emotional responses.
“That wasn’t a very convincing argument, Miss ‘I turned off all my emotions’,” Rowan answered as Erik turned around again. “If you hadn’t, you’d probably agree with me. It’s a little creepy. And didn’t you have an agreement with Valera not to do that unless you needed to?”
“Well, I needed to,” Elara said, looking down and wiping away at a bit of blood that had dried itself on her skin. Rowan seemed to notice, casting a few glances between Erik and the formerly-injured girl.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Good as new.” A hammer falling, slamming into a lightly-armored back. “Never been better.” Bones snapping, a body starting to slump. “Not even a mark on me.” Flesh healed and destroyed, over and over again.
She gave Rowan a thumbs-up, showing her teeth.
“Dead,” his father said, face lined with disapproval.
Erik looked at his shield, radiant with light. The symbol of a protector. It made him feel like a fraud.
“Oh, looks like he’s done,” Rowan said, pointing at the Little Guardian again. The snake’s glossy black scales were covered in gold and blue lines that caught the light, each bit crisscrossing the next.
He hissed, staring right at Erik.
“You don’t think he’s upset about getting hurt, do you?” Rowan asked.
Light started to spill from the snake’s scales, slowly taking on a shape. Two figures, a bright white human and a gold-blue snake, walking through a crudely depicted mist. The human figure’s color started to take on green and black around the edges, but the white still held sway.
Soon after, another set of figures appeared, both human this time. Both marked by green and black. The two sets of figures clashed.
Overwhelmed, the lone human and snake pair died, disintegrating into motes of light until only the green-black pair remained. The illusion faded for a moment, the light shifting until something else took its place. The human and the snake were back, this time standing in front of a single figure. It had a shield in one hand and a hammer in the other.
The figures met and the snake moved forward, opening its mouth. The shield bearing figure’s color changed, shifting into golds and blues. Then, together, the three figures moved into the mists. When the figures attacked again, the human and snake lived - kept safe by their gold and blue companion.
Their protector.
When it was over, the gold and blue coating the third figure started to fade, shifting back into the purest of white.
The illusion stopped.
The snake hissed, a question without words.
What kind of protector am I?
Erik carefully knelt down, reaching out with a single hand. That was answer enough.
Zendran
In case you are unaware, the patreon chapters are currently in the beginning stages of book 3, so if you would like to read ahead to the end of book 2, please consider my subscribing to my Patreon!
Discord
(Make sure to select a role to view the server's channels)
