Magic Breaker Ch 67-69

Chapter 67: Performing Plotted Plans Splendiferously

Somehow, Thatch charms our way through the gates. He really is unfairly handsome. So much so, apparently, that it even works on other species. 

Having Norman with us helps.

It’s really funny how his skill works. [Unassuming] is largely passive, but he can absolutely feed it with mana, though there are diminishing returns. The skill cloaks its own usage, spreads out over the whole party, and makes us seem… ordinary.

Unlike something flashy like invisibility, which might make you obvious once spotted, his skill is gentle. I’d call it insidious. But I mimic it just a little, [Suppressing] our “presence” as best as I can. It helps with the pain of a too-full vessel in my chest. I should look into that, too, someday. Maybe. Probably.

But with the two of us working together, and the fact that Thatch is unreasonably charming, we make our way past the gates and into the city proper. We don’t have directions, but all it takes to get them is asking a local a quick question. 

In the end, making our way to the mansion doesn’t take very long. The city’s noisy, but I bear with it. Hopefully my headphones will be fixed soon. Since it’s an undercover mission I can’t even steal any from the humans walking around - not that many of them are carrying headphones. A tragedy.

Maybe I should get some kind of dimensional storage, just to tuck them away, so they don’t get damaged in a fight… Another project to tuck onto the list. I focus on the moment, creating more tethers with [Selection] and increasing my focus on [Suppression] a bit, just to deal with my mana, pouring into my vessel as it regenerates.

When we’re in front of the manor, I’m in danger of zoning out again, thinking of where it comes from, when it’s finally time to put on a performance.

“I’m Lapis,” Opal says at the door. The guard raises an eyebrow.

“I see your name on the list,” the sumeen says, long limbs trailing along a clipboard. “But I don’t see you being registered as bringing a whole climbing party,” she notes with displeasure.

Opal gives a charming smile. “Really now? The baron did say me and my party.”

“Are you the leader then?” she asks.

They shrug, giving a so-so gesture. “I’d say it’s more my buddy’s party,” they say, gesturing at me.

“I assure you, I am the mascot,” I deadpan. 

The guard gives us a look, then a sigh. “Buncha clowns. Alright, head on inside. Seems like the kinda shenanigans the baron would like, anyway. Won’t have my hide for it, either. Don’t cause trouble.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Thatch lies elegantly, and we stride in through the opulent curtains.

It’s a ballroom. There must be some kind of silencing enchantment on the walls, because as soon as we’re inside, the noise hits me like a physical smack. There are dozens of people mingling. Sumeen, tall and faceless, towering over the other attendees. Scithian, their crystal wings folded, often wearing dresses decorated with gems of matching colours. Zoof, the furballs, decked out in elegant top hats and monocles, looking just a little ridiculous, but greatly adorable.

They mingle, they dance, there is a band with string instruments I can’t recognize and a singer whose mana has his voice echo across the entire room. I lock eyes with him, giving him a look that pleads for a little more quiet. He shoots me a salacious look in reply and the tones speed up and get a little louder.

Wulven are more rare, but some are present. Their warrior culture likely lends itself well to earning fame on this floor, and one almost dances into me, when Inu quickly steps between us, bouncing the wolf back into the dancefloor. It’s bright, light spilling from a dozen gaudy chandeliers.

“I hate parties,” I mumble. Then I look over, and Opal is already dancing with a handsome guy, and Thatch has a prince and princess fight over him. Sylves floats, dancing in the air with a dozen gazes on her, and Norman stands in the door, shellshocked, but somehow, no one walks into him, unassuming as he is. Which leaves me and Inu.

“They’re rather noisy,” she says, sharing my grimace. “Emotions are… high.”

Ah, that must be unpleasant. I gently reach out with my magic and [Suppress] her skill, just a bit, seeing her take a breath of relief. She could regulate it herself, but that’s harder than for me to just use the tether of [Selection] that’s already there. 

I let the others do their thing. It’s a party, after all, they’re meant to have fun. Instead, I look at the walls, [Selecting] them, or trying to. My skill actually slips off, the enchantments rejecting the mana so that I can’t figure them out as easily.

With this cruel fate, I resign myself to my life at the snack buffet. Tragic. Enduring noise and light and the occasional person bumping into me. It’s horrible. The worst part is the smell of alcohol.

Somehow, the culture of mildly poisoning oneself is apparently universal. Monkeys and elephants do it by chewing rotten fruit, and I am entirely convinced that dolphins would get drunk if they could. The people here do, too. And it’s despicable.

I try to take a deep breath, but the smell is overpowering. Should have brought sunglasses, damn it. I lean more on [Suppression], making the noise quieter, and my eyes worse, and dulling my sensation of touch and smell. In a moment, the word grows duller, darker. It lets me breathe a little more easily, goosebumps crawling across my skin as I pick out a slice of fruit-smelling cake to eat.

“Dang,” someone says, sauntering up next to me. It’s a scithian, their face handsome. They lean against the bar, giving me a confident, easy smile in the way that only flirty extroverts usually can. He has tan skin, yellow eyes, and white hair. “Didn’t think I’d meet someone I’d call gorgeous here. Your hair’s awesome.”

“It’s dyed,” I reply calmly. By now, my roots should be poking out just a bit again, contrasting against the silver of the dye. 

“Even cooler. Can I touch it?” they reach out.

“No,” I say.

Their hand freezes midair, and they start looking at me. I stare them down. They smile. “I like the fire in your eyes. They suit your hair.”

I just stare. My eyes are dark, almost black. “Anything else you wanna compliment?” I deadpan.

“Yeah,” they say, smile widening some more. “I like your freckles, too.” 

“Do you always stare at new people?” I ask. My own voice sounds dull in my ears, the sound [Suppressed]. I like it. It’s like I’m underwater. Everything is a little more bearable.

“Only the cute ones,” they wink. “Or pretty. Or beautiful. Or handsome. Or gorgeous. Pick whichever word you like best.” Another smile.

I nod. “Right,” I say. Then, I scan the room, seeing if Inu can help me out, but she’s busy. Sylves is already entangled with the church of Respitia. There are a few of them in attendance, mostly recognizable by their fancy clothes. She’s handing them drinks and snacks. They’re practically eating out of her hand.

Opal is engaged with the baron. Thatch is basically entangled in a social war. Inu is in the process of bugging another paladin from the church. We’re playing our cards, slowly but surely. I’ll have to do my part when they’re a bit more distracted.

None of them have time for me. Out of all people, it’s Norman who comes to my aid.

He saunters up next to me, and I feel [Unassuming] slowly take hold. The flirtatious scithian seems almost confused as the skill goes into effect, blinking at me. “Heya. You good, kid?” he addresses them. “Looks like you had a little much to drink.”

The scithian hums, wings flickering behind their back. “Yeah,” they hum. “Things are a bit… blurry.”

Norman smiles politely. “C’mon, let’s find you a place to sit down.”

“Ah, I was talking to…” they pause.

Inu’s dad laughs in an amicable, customer service way. “If you didn’t even catch a name, surely it’s not that important.” Then, in a quick swoop, he grabs them, and softly leads them to a bit of the seating area. 

I use my chance to slink even further into a dark corner. People mill about, moving, dancing, laughing, drinking, celebrating. I try to find something, anything to occupy me, and it all comes back to mana. Gingerly, I take out the maze, sitting down on the floor in a corner. I [Select] it, letting the world blur just a little, mostly bleeding away, except for the sensations I get from my other tethers.

And then, I practice. Bit by bit, step by step, I guide and twist my mana through the cube focusing on my heartbeat, the rhythmic pulsing of my vessel as my mana refills and filters into the training aid. I hold the shapes in my mind, little exercises of focus, and guide it along.

Slowly, minutes pass, and things become more bearable. I adjust. My skills aren’t a replacement for my headphones or my sunglasses. They’ll never be. But they help. 

Someone sits across from me.

He doesn’t talk or reach out. Just a blurry figure, one that doesn’t move. Just sits.

I spend a dozen more minutes with the maze, then lock my mana in place and look up. It’s a zoof, fluffy fur on full display, legs crossed beneath him. His eyes are big, focused on the maze. I tilt my head. 

“You should twist the mana,” he says. “That way it bends around corners better.”

Hm. I try to follow the advice, and promptly splinter the mana-thread I had going on, cracking apart it into bits of crystal. Still, a small smile spreads on my face. “That makes sense,” I say. It fits with the patterns that I’ve seen in skills. “How do I get it not to fragment?”

He smiles, bright, wide, and silly. “No idea!” he says. “How do you get it so thin?”

“Compression,” I reply. “If I just pour it in as is, it’s too thin. So I solidify it into crystal-things.”

“Oh, can that be used to store it?” he asks.

“To some degree,” I nod, making a small, floating orb of mana, and gently floating it over to him.

An arm appears from the fluff, and he taps a sharp nail against the orb, making it ring a little. “How bizarre,” he hums. “This is how I do it.”

Mana pours from his vessel, twisting in on itself as a wave of power turns into a drop of liquid. I tap its surface, and it ripples, tingling against my finger. It’s so clear to my mana sense, but a lot less solid than what I can make. In return, it’s a lot easier to shape.

“Huh. Curious,” I say. 

“I’m Leo.”

“I can’t tell you my name yet,” I reply.

“Why’s that?” he tilts his head.

A small smile spreads on my face. “Cuz it’s trouble.”

He grins, conspiratorially. “I don’t mind trouble.”

Slowly, I bring a finger to my lip, indicating silence. “You’ll figure it out when things go down, I’m sure.”

“Things will go down?” he whispers excitedly. 

“Oh, for suresies,” I say. “No two ways about it.”

“Nice,” he nods. “Okay, mysterious stranger, let’s puzzle out this maze a bit more. I have a few more ideas…”

I listen as he talks. Somehow, he manages all the things people often struggle with. He’s not too close, not too loud, and not too boring. We talk about mana, and the time passes a little bit quicker. My mana skills improve, and Leo seems to have fun, too. No one else approaches the dark corner. I’d almost call it nice. Almost.

And then, it’s go-time.

- - -

My cue comes in the form of Sylves. She hovers above the crowds, easily coming over to find me. She sees Leo, and gives me a curious look. I shrug, slightly, and she mimes laughing, then quickly waves her hand in front of her neck, gesturing for me to cut off the conversation.

I sigh, faintly, getting to my feet. “Alright, Leo. I’ll have to cut this here. This was enlightening, but I unfortunately have duties to attend to,” I say.

The zoof seems entirely unbothered, smiling. “Got it! Won’t tell anyone about your secrets, either. See you!” he says, then scampers off.

Sylves touches down on the floor in front of me, brushing her dress to get it to look prim and proper again. She smiles. “I got most of them to eat fae food. Thatch has caught enough glimpses to figure out a few weaknesses, and Inu has planted seeds of dizziness and anger that’ll make them follow us. Norman kept it all hidden, and Opal was a good distraction. We’re set.”

“Run me through the targets,” I say.

She nods, serious. “Philia has guards. A handful of priests in robes. Low heart, high vessel, with channelling skills. A few warriors, enchanted swords and strength. They don’t have much in the way of rogue-types, or at least we spotted none.”

I nod.

“Opal and Thatch are taking the priests. Inu and I the warriors. Philia is all yours. Norman helps us disappear if there’s trouble. That’s the rough workings of it,” she says. “We’ve got our debuffs lined up, Snow. Things are set. I can’t wait,” she says, grinning sadistically. “Let’s show them.”

Slowly, I smile. “Yeah,” I say. “Let’s show them.”

Having my social battery reasonably recharged, my vessel so full it’s aching in my chest, and feeling ready as I’ll ever be, I step out into the crowd. Sensations blare all over me, but now that there’s a target, they’re tolerable. No aimless drifting, no pointless mingling.

No, my path is straightforward and direct. Opal has talked to the baron, I hope, because otherwise he might not be a fan of what’s about to happen. My friends will have taken care of the prep. They’re reliable like that. 

There’s just one thing I need to do.

Provoke a reaction.

“Hey, Philia!” I call out to the woman, yelling loudly enough it startles the other guests and cuts through the music. The woman turns to face me, confused. Her dark hair is long, going past her hips, even. She’s wearing a bit of resplendent armor, but it’s clearly not meant for fighting. It’s too ornate for that.

“I was just curious, if I have a healing skill, where do I-”

Instantly, she’s in front of me. A flash of light, and she’s right there. I feel afraid. My heart pumps blood through my veins. I can feel the adrenaline. The fight or flight response, the way mana flickers and I have to hold it back. It presses against my chest, straining to escape from my vessel and kill this woman.

But I breathe, recalling that yawning emptiness inside me. And it all fades away, drop by drop, in an instant. My face remains neutral, placid.

“A healing skill?” she asks. “A human with a healing skill?” Her eyes narrow. “Prove it.”

I smile, then create a thin needle of mana, stabbing it into my skin. Then, in front of her, I form the skill, threading the mana. In moments, my skin knits closed. Her eyes widen. “It’s true. You’ll have to come with me, immediately.” She emphasizes the urgency.

“Ahhhh, sorry,” I say, sharply drawing in breath between my teeth, leaning into the theatrics. “See, I think you’re a piece of fucking shit who tried to kill me before.” I pull back the half-cowl and my hair, revealing the patch of my skull. I see surprise, and then iron will spread across her face.

“Murderer,” she hisses.

“Yeah!” I yell, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “My name is Ion! I have a healing skill! I take absolutely no shit from your pissy church and your overbearing ruler! You can all fuck off. If you wanna stop me from healing people, then kill me.” I taunt.

It’s a bit overbearing, but that’s fine. I’m angry at them, genuinely angry, but the words hit home. I know they do, because…

[Respitia the Pure is disgusted by your outburst.]

[The Master of Suffering guffaws at her stunned sputtering.]

[The Embrace lingers curiously.]

Blinding light gathers in her hands, but I’m not dying here. Instantly, as she begins to cast, I use the new essence I’ve gained. [Deconstruction] destabilizes the spell, [Suppression] makes it take longer to activate, a tiny application of [Solidification] cuts through the burgeoning magic, until, all at once…

It breaks.

“My name is Ion! Remember it!” And with that, I throw a clumsy punch, that cracks right into her surprised nose, making my knuckles ache. 

Rage sets in for the paladin. “Fine then, rookie,” she snarls. “You insult my goddess. You insult me. Then die.”

I laugh, and then start running as fast as I can.

Chapter 68: Bait

The crowd parts immediately, and chaos erupts within moments. Opal already gutted one priest, and Thatch stabbed another one with a sharp breadknife. Inu slips between me and the paladin, tackling her with brutal momentum, and slamming a whole slew of disorientation against the woman’s mind.

When Philia blinks the dizziness away, I’m already out the door, throwing a handful of mana-darts at her as a gift. They shatter against her armor, but one breaks skin, sending her own magic into disarray, though I don’t stick around to find out.

One of the priests chants a spell, but I shatter it, and an arrow from an archer harmlessly bounces off Inu’s chestplate, barely staggering her. When we dart around corners, we become [Unassuming], and I [Suppress] any detection ability thrown our way. 

We stick as a slippery group at the edge of their awareness. They try to encircle us, but Thatch finds them ahead of time, seeing them through buildings. They send archers, but Opal teleports and stabs them. Levels can only do so much against a sword through the gut.

A few times, the priests stop to cast healing spells, sometimes flapping crystal wings, or scaling mushroom buildings on dark claws. Wounds mend behind us, so only about half the people we attack die.

Somehow, Opal’s death toll is lower than Thatch’s. Whenever the handsome fighter gets his fists on someone, they break. It’s brutal, violence channelled into gallant fists, and his face doesn’t even seem angry anymore. The red rage doesn’t tint his skin, just flows with direct purpose. He’s perfectly calm as he caves a scithian’s face in.

Whenever the pursuers come to close, Sylves will invoke the fairy rites, making their muscles seize up. They collapse to the floor like puppets with their strings cut. Yet, through it all, Philia is relentless. She chases, flapping her crystalline, light-woven wings, disappears and reappears in bursts of brightness. She’s high level, but I’m mentally marking down her skills.

Some kind of light based movement, the pillar she’s used before, and some kind of heal, I’m sure. That’s three. She almost certainly has more. 

I grin. Only a matter of time until I tear them apart.

A new flash of light, and a small beam burns and tears through my shoulder. I quickly heal the wound, though the lingering heat licking at my insides makes it hard. Luckily, I can still run. Inu shifts to be behind me, probably relying on some class skill to defend me better. 

We sail through a market stall, tossing crates behind us, and crowds part in front of us. Sylves, especially, uses wind to knock plenty of obstacles in the way of our numerous pursuers.

The paladins hack through wood and mushroom, glass and metal, stomp past confused people and wasted food. They contend with pain, dizziness, rage, my [Suppression]. None of their skills work properly, and a half dozen debuffs bore into them. Thatch channels his [Rage] into his [Piercing Gaze], turning the ocular ability more dangerous, too.

With all these advantages, we make it to the tunnels. We scramble, we hop, we duck and dive in a strange confusion. Philia is right on our heels the entire time, blinking as light. A radiant sword manifests in her hands, and she swings it - only for the resplendent beam to strike against a pane of liquid mana, harmlessly diffusing.

A scream of rage tears from the woman, and I laugh, loudly, infuriating her more. Then, I quiet down, and focus on running. We’re at the gates when she catches up again, the city guards attempting to stop us. 

Opal grins, happily, as they reveal another one of the lovely secrets we’ve prepared. With a quick movement, they pull a bomb from their pockets, push mana into it, and toss it at the paladin. Another bomb sails at the guards, who very quickly decide not to get involved.

Then we’re out, and in the tunnels. We toss another bomb, and Norman conjures up a few [Protective] barriers that Philia smacks into. One is deviously placed at head height, and while it fragments, I cannot imagine it feeling pleasant. Light envelops her, healing her wounds, but we’re already around the corner, then.

All at once, we jump, sailing high through the air and easily clearing a part of the floor that is thin and weak. Philia, crossing the corner a moment after us, steps down heavily.

The sabotaged sheet of brittle stone breaks under the weight, and she is forced to waste more mana by stopping her fall via a teleportation. Inu uses that moment to send another spike of dizziness and pain her way, and the ground under her legs shifts as the ants start helping.

A few of them are magically skilled at manipulating rocks, and are now putting that talent to work, destabilizing the paladin’s footing, slowing her down some more. Enough for us to reach the first branch, where we started truly trapping things. People split off into different directions now, and I lead Philia along with me, showing up just long enough to give her a middle finger.

She roars in anger, chasing after me - right into a tripwire spun from Amelie’s most durable thread. She stumbles, for just a second, and I send a needle of mana her way. That blazing sword manifests again, deflecting it, when the ceiling above her opens up and a torrent of rocks pours down. 

Another teleport of light. I throw a half-hearted [Deconstruction] at it, disassembling the remains of the abilities after it’s over. It clicks into place, but not quite enough. More running.

Amelie has puppets, placed in nooks in the rocks, that stumble out to hack and stab at Philia. A bolt of light suddenly shoots my way, but gets entirely swallowed up by Kuro’s darkness, my shadow wrapping up to eat it.

“You even have the power of darkness!” Philia yells. “Of course a parasite like you would reject Respitia’s glorious touch!”

I grimace. “Does your goddess often try to gloriously touch strangers? That’s kinda gross,” I reply easily, ducking my head under another tripwire. 

When Philia tries to reply, she’s drowned out by the screech of metal, as spikes drive up from the rocks floor. She leaps over them. In the middle of the air, I toss a bomb at her, forcing her to teleport. 

Again, I pick at the edges of the skill, analysing, learning, profiling. I have her radiant sword selected, feeding information from it, too. Another puppet traps her, and then, we’re finally deep enough.

I take one more turn, and come face to face with Elis. 

The warrior ant is titanic, confidently taking up the tunnel, and decked out. Her entire body is covered in armor, densely filled with the simple inscriptions I could manage. It glows, drawing in mana in a torrent. Philia’s eyes widen as she sees the insect.

“Oh my,” I tease. “Looks like it’s finally dawning on you. You fucked up.”

Elis charges.

Chapter 69: Tunnels and Traps

“You are a rat! A worthless parasite!” Philia curses, blinking upwards and dragging her glowing sword across the metal armor of Elis. How silly. Rats are cute.

I [Suppress] the weapon a bit, not too eager to fully test the durability of what Bay and me made. Amelie’s strings hold amicably, and the gambeson that Sylves helped tailor keeps the armor on the ant, even as the warrior’s charge misses.

Emotions of adrenaline course through our bond, and Elis activates a first skill. Instantly, Philia crashed to the ground, suddenly far faster, forcing her to blink again. I pick at the residue of the skill, stealing more data. 

The paladin breaks into a roll, only for the stone under her feet to give out again as Elis activates another skill. Her job is that of a builder, granting her [Stoneshaping], as I learnt, which makes a great fighting skill in the tunnels. First, Philia just stumbles, then another trap activates. Puppets pour down from above, centipedes kept together by writhing strings, biting at the paladin.

Her healing skill burns the venom from her limbs, only a few attacks making it through, but she’s forced to teleport in a ray of light again. This time, I pick at the skill as she’s in the middle of it, just enough for her to hopefully not notice, focused on the car-sized ant as she should be.

Elis activates one of her class skills, [War Cry], and a rather simple effect takes place. Philia, for just a moment, screams in rage, charging at the ant. I use my chance to elegantly throw a needle into her ankle, sending her stumbling.

The ant’s mandibles glow with a violent red light as another class skill activates. They connect with Philia’s midsection, and I hear the armor crumpling as the paladin is sent, with force, into the stone ceiling.

I hear cracks, both bones and rock, and then snaps as her mana rouses. For the first time, it feels like she’s serious, a torrent of power flooding her already strong body, and with a pop, her bones are back in place. I grin, maniacally.

“Hey Elis?”

My warrior-ant buddy focuses on me, chittering.

“You can run off. I’ll take it from here.”

She hesitates, seemingly… worried? I frown. “Go! Take care of other problems already!”

At my harsh tone, she does as I ask. Maybe I could have been kinder with it, but I feel adrenaline pumping through my veins. Mana surges in my chest. Philia takes a step… and I run the fuck away.

I’m not an idiot. Until I’ve worn out my resources, I’ll run like the tunnel rat I am. A grin spreads on my face, as I take off again, leaving the angrily growling holy woman behind me. She charges, of course, but she is far from built for speed, and the trickle of [Suppression] I cast with my regenerating mana is enough for me to stay just ahead.

That, and the traps. I don’t hesitate to abuse my advantages. Bombs. Ambushes. Tripwires, spikes of stone, wooden arrows shot from holes in the walls by members of the colony behind it. Bits of metal and steel dig into her, and I see her discard crumpled pieces of metal in her wake. 

“Now for my final piece!” I yell at her between deep breaths as I sprint through the tunnels. “I bring you… bees!!”

The hallways suddenly open up into a massive cavern. In the very middle of it hangs exactly what I promise. A large hive of bees. There are large flowers, fed by glowing light from mushrooms, their pollen being harvested by bees the size of my fist.

Now, why did I think bringing her here was a good idea, when I clearly am entering the area first?

These bees are attracted to light.

As soon as Philia comes in, she stumbles on a tripwire and teleports to catch herself, transforming into a billowing cloud of radiance. I don’t suppress it at all, letting her and her sword shine brightly, and dozens of insects instantly turn their compound eyes to her.

Meanwhile, me? I let Kuro wrap around me, fading into the shadows of the room, watching on. 

“How did a horrid monster like you get a healing skill?!” the paladin roars between slashes of her blazing sword. I see her swing it, bringing devastation to many members of the hive as the radiance burns them. Smoke billows, attracting more buzzing excitement.

Still, she races me across the cavern. By now, though, I can easily outpace her, since I’m not constantly being hounded by insects and their stingers. Whenever she gets a little too comfy, I throw a bomb at her - specially made ones that release blazing flashes of light, almost like fireworks, attracting yet more bees until the entire cavern is a mess of buzzing and smoke.

More than a dozen stings have accumulated on the woman by now, some scraping against her armor, and yet more sinking into her skin. She burns with light, and I pull at the edges of her healing, too. Slowly, I find weaknesses, gaps, problematic points. I take my time in the shadows to watch and deconstruct and pick her apart - until she finally releases it.

A pillar of light crashes down on the middle of the hive, flooding the cavern with radiant incandescence. Kuro pulls back like a cat from water, and my skin blisters just from being close to it. Without hesitation, I dip into another tunnel - cleared, but not trapped, for a final standoff.

Philia follows me. 

Covered in radiance, the blood on her skin boils away. She pants, her steps heavy as she comes after me, holding that bright blade. She pulls a few finger-thick stingers from her stomach and throws them to the floor, the wounds knitting closed under bright white flames.

She leverages her sword at me, the bees not willing to follow us anymore. “Now you die, parasite.” 

“Dang, not even a single complaint about the bees? You’re no fun,” I pout. “Well. That’s okay, though. You don’t needa be fun. You need to be dead.” 

The words come out so calmly, entirely unlike the rest of my bravado that I see her brows furrow, crystalline wings fanning in wariness. “What was that?”

“I called your goddess an ugly harlot,” I say, forcing that cocky smile back on my face, and drawing a goblin knife that I wreathe in mana.

She roars, and charges at me. And, for the first time since the start of the chase, I meet her with the full force of my skills.

[Selection] snakes past the gaps in her few remaining pieces of armor, showing me her vulnerabilities. [Suppression] comes next, targeting every bit of her that is weak, that is a target. Her legs slow, no longer catching up with her body, and she almost tips forward, blinking again.

I pick at the skill one last time, at the fringes of its activation, and it clicks. I’ve got her pattern down.

A moment passes and I take a deep breath as I step back, creating solid, floating needles of mana around me. I wear no armor, no radiant blade. Just a jagged knife and a handful of thick needles, facing down someone two thresholds above me.

Philia roars, and charges. I catch her sword with my dagger, and her power is enough to almost break my wrist. She winds, aiming in, and I push to the side. My one hand stands no chance against the both of hers, until I [Suppress] the sword itself.

The flames fizzle, and suddenly incandescent heat is just a faint warmth to my heart-enhanced skin. I give her a brutal kick to the midsection, and it feels like kicking a rock wall. Her stats are balanced, so I probably have more vessel than her, but she’s strong. Really strong.

With a quick motion, the sword comes sailing at my head, and I jump back. She moves in to catch up. A needle drives itself into her ankle again, disrupting her jump. She blinks.

I grin.

For just a moment, her entire body turns to light. For just a moment, she attempts to shoot forward.

And then, all at once, I break her skill.

[Deconstruction 9 > 10]

[Class up! Nullmage 2 > 4]

Instead of blinking, Philia is sent sprawling on the floor, blood leaking from her eyes. She splutters, confused, as my needles dig into her, a half dozen at once stabbing into her stomach. She tries to heal, but her mana is in disarray, not even listening, so it’s child’s play to disrupt her spell.

I walk forward to the woman, now sprawled on the floor. She tries to blink again, away this time, and I shatter the spell, turning it into more of a pointless roll. Her sword lashes out at me, but I break it, too.

Radiance dissolves into bright-white sparks.

[Class up! Nullmage 4 > 5]

I smile at the points flooding into my vessel. I’ve proven to the tower that I’m better than her - and with the level gap, that deserves rewards. She tries to teleport one more time, but it fails. So, instead, she tries to heal. 

And it fails.

In a last resort, she starts casting the pillar of light again. The spell that so nearly killed me last time, but I just frown. “Stop that,” I say, [Suppressing] the activation to slow it down, then driving my solidified mana knife into her stomach.

Philia gasps in shock and pain. Her mana rages against mine, trying to purge the foreign substance, but I hold it in place, disrupting her casting of her skills. Her mana wars against mine, but…

[Solidification 7 > 8]

We were evenly matched at the start of the fight. She has a couple dozen points on me, sure. Maybe even as much as a hundred. But they’re spread. I can compete with her mana reservoir, and that’s what I do.

I beat her. She’s been teleporting, casting, healing, summoning… and I’ve just been running. Throwing bombs, having others activate traps for me, forcing her to fight a hive of bees. It’s simple attrition and maths.

My vessel is higher than hers.

Drop by drop, her mana leeches out, and she feebly tries to hit me with her physical strength, chained down by [Suppression]. I stab mana-needles through her arms, pinning them to the stone, shaping them like nails. 

“Scum,” she curses. “Trash. How dare you. You are killing not only me but everyone I would have healed. Everyone-”

“I don’t care,” I say plainly.

“Parasite!” she spits.

Slowly, I shrug. “Sure,” I say. “But at least I’m not a corpse.”

For a moment there, I’d considered sparing her. That she might beg for mercy. But she doesn’t. Her skills don’t work, her mana is in disarray, she cannot heal, and I have her beat in every way.

[Respitia the Pure offers a favour if you let her paladin go.]

I frown at the message. “Ugh. Bothersome. Your goddess is begging for mercy in your stead.”

“Spare me and I will kill you.”

“Okay, then I won’t,” I shrug. Her mana is gone. I pull the knife from her stomach and neatly slit her throat. Then I stab it through her eye into her brain for good measure, so she doesn’t have to suffer. 

Thus, with a quiet whimper and a spilling of blood, the messages start flooding in.