Bacon Macleod

B4 Chapter 493: Defending the Wall, pt. 2

It started with a long, drawn out howl. It was a piercing sound, cutting through some of the steel forged by the officers that dotted the walls.

Kaius drew his blade, feeling the roiling charge of his mana locked inside of Drakthar. He would need it soon. 

The wolf’s cry stretched long, hammering at the anticipation within him until Kaius could barely stand it for a second longer. A single, final note echoed unnaturally — bolstered by some sort of Skill.

Silence.

Then a wall of noise hit him like a punch to the gut. Thousands of creatures, of every breed and type, screamed out in unthinking savagery. It was unending, so many voices smashed together that it became a sound without timbre — possessing only in fury. 

The tide of beasts surged in.

A teeming cloud took flight.

Rieker’s booming voice cut over the screams, steadying the restless defenders. The guildmaster must have been close — Kaius heard others echoing his call further down the walls.

“Archers, ready!”

Arrows were drawn; the beasts drew closer. As fast as the ground forces were, the aerial beasts were faster. A flowing cloud of smoke, they surged across the sky, straight for Deadacre.

Rotten roots, there were so many. The simple scale of it rocked him. Even with all their power, him and his team would never stand a chance. Kaius rolled his shoulders; he would be fine. So what if he couldn’t fight an entire army by himself, he didn’t have to.

In the final approach the black cloud surged up, gaining altitude. Mana roiled within the teeming masses as thousands of skills were prepared at once.

They dived. 

Kaius felt his stomach clench. Fuck, he really didn’t want to leave the fliers for the others.

“Archers, loose!”

A sea of projectiles surged into the sky, like an upwards rain. Backed by Skills, they burned — fire, roiling wind, hazy poison, and more. There were so many affinities backing the shots that Kaius could barely distinguish them. Spells were scattered through them — wind, light, earth, and steel. Each was visible only as spots of potency amongst the volley. 

Uncaring, the beasts dived into the storm. They were densely packed — too dense for most to properly dodge. Arrows punched through breasts, wings broke; blood and bodies fell in a deluge.

Beasts, some as large as a man, crumpled as they hit the ground. Feathered and carapaced alike fell to the dead lands outside of the city. Dragon’s teeth were stained red with blood as skewered beasts squealed in pain. 

Yet not all fell beyond the walls — wounded beasts rained onto the city. Kaius cursed. Even grievously injured, the beasts could heal. He hoped the roving teams of guards and delvers in the city were ready to put them down before they could harass their ranks from within.

The gods were not so gracious as to give him enough time to consider it further. A body slammed into the ground in front of him — a bird nearly as large as he was. Tumbling across the stone, he heard a wet snap as a wing folded the wrong direction. The beast let out a pained squawk, writhing as it tried to right itself.

Kaius refused to give it time.

Lunging forward, he fed stamina into his blade. The runes set within its crystal fuller burned as red light surged across its surface. Hellblade Investiture.

He thrust.

Its skull crunched beneath his sword point, and the beast stiffened.

Cloudracer Swallow - Level 134

Beast, Harrasser

Deactivating his skill, Kaius drew back, snapping his head up and down the wall to see if any of the weaker guards needed assistance. 

He saw only men with hungry scowls crowding around fallen beasts, thrusting their spears again and again. With each death, their auras of strength surged.

Simply feeling someone's strength was an imprecise art. The difference between the first and second tier was easy — even a child who had barely awakened their system could notice that. 

Within a single tier, the differences were more subtle. Even for Kaius, with sharp senses and high stats, it was only a vague sense. Yet when dozens of men were leveling up right in front of his nose, it was hard to miss.

Beasts rained from the sky, some crippled, some simply injured from the endless torrent of arrows that punched through breasts and wings. 

A squawking thing of black and brown as big as a hound smashed into the midst of a squad just to his left, arrows peppering its wings. It barely had time to thrash, one soldier screaming out as its claws raked his leg. 

Spears descended, burning with the light of enhancement Skills; Kaius focused his Truesight on one of the guards.

Human - Level 80

Bruiser

The beast stilled, a pool of red spreading from a dozen piercing wounds to its vitals. Kaius identified the man again.

Human - lvl 81

Bruiser

Kaius grinned at the sight of it — only to swing at a shape that blurred past him, about to clear the wall. A bat, struggling to right itself with holes burnt through its wing. Severing one, he ignored its piercing shriek as it fell into the city below. A clean up team would get it soon.

The growing levels of the defenders were vital. The sole benefit of the invading beasts being so much stronger was that it would grow their own forces commensurately. Even split between many, the experience would be enough.

Far above, the flock of beasts surged. They pulled away from the city, out of range of the archers. Kaius eyed the force with a frown. A brief respite, nothing more. 

The men around him looked dazed, eyes wide in shock. They must have just noticed their gains. Such rapid growth would have been totally foreign to them — hells, he doubted many of them were used to unlocking another skill in the middle of battle.

The flock would return in moments; if they got distracted by their status sheets, it could get them killed. It would be the same if they picked a new skill. The unknown limits and low levels of the fresh abilities would be lethal if they tried to test them out on the wallt.

“Focus!” Kaius roared, his voice carrying across the line. “Spend your free points only if you have a set allocation you can follow without thought, and save any skills you might have gained! Save them for when you are rotated off the walls, relying on fresh abilities will only see you gutted!”

At his words, half a dozen of the nearby guards snapped out of it, blinking rapidly as they looked from him to the milling beasts overhead. Including one of the officers. The man gave him a nod, before he set off down the wall at a sprint, relaying his words again and again.

The cloud hanging in the eastern sky heaved and contracted, while below the distant beasts continued their rumbling charge. Kaius could feel it now, the reverberation from their footfalls resonating up through the stone fortifications.

It wouldn’t be long now.

Deep within the flock, Kaius watched beasts shift position to the forefront as the cloud stretched into a loose approximation of the head of a bodkin arrow. One pointed right at the heart of the city.

They flew as one, an unnatural formation.

“Archers, loose!” Rieker's enhanced voice carried over the city once more. 

A single twang erupted, and beasts fell in waves.

Kaius shifted his grip on his blade, the surging heat of the bloodsong in his veins making him impatient. 

Overhead, splinters erupted from the flock as groups of beasts broke ranks and swooped across the lines of the defenders. There were dozens of them — most targeting the siege towers that were peppering them so severely with spells and arrows.

But not all. One swirled overhead, as if searching for a target. Barely a second later, the smaller flock scattered, revealing an owl.

It dived. Straight for him.

Rotten roots, it was huge! Dusty grey and speckled brown, it had to be as large as a horse, with a skill already burning on its outstretched claws. Six feathers rose from the top of its head, curling into a crown.

He had mere moments before it arrived.

Kaius grinned, raising his blade into an aggressive high guard as he took his stance. Finally he had something worthwhile to do!

For there was no mistaking the aura of the creature. It was Silver. 

Ianmus’s voice suddenly sounded in his ear. The mage was flustered, and rushing through his words.

“Shit! It’s been hiding stronger beasts! One’s coming straight for you! There’s others — we wont be able to help.”

“I know!” Kaius replied, identifying the beast.

Duskcrowned Owl - Level 264

Stalker

He didn’t need help.

“Of course you get to have fun first.” Porkchop grumbled in his mind as he sensed Kaius’s flare of bloodlust.

Kaius just smiled and watched the beast approach, a shrill scream on its lips.  Stamina coursed within him as he prepared to use Hellblade Investiture. Its stamina drain was prodigious, he saw no point in activating it longer than he had to.

Around him, his fellow men of the line noticed the approaching threat. Screams of alarm resounded as dozens of arrows shot toward the owl.

A single flap of its wings sent it into a tight spiral. The arrows went wide.

“Focus on the weaker beasts, leave this one to me!” Kaius yelled.

The men shot him nervous looks, but listened all the same. The closest squads shuffled further away, giving him as much room as they could.

Spiralling down, the dustcrowned owl snapped its wings out at the last possible moment. Mana surged, and a choking haze erupted. It blanketed the wall leaving the defenders spluttering and yelling in fear as the beast was obscured utterly.

Convinced of its hidden form, the owl surged towards him, a skill accelerating it. Kaius only grinned.

He could see just fine. A little dust wouldn’t stop Truesight. 

Stamina flooded into his blade. The runes on his sword ignited with a demon's fury, spouting a red that coated the blade utterly. Far too sharp to be fire, it was the purest eruption of the latent energy that had grown within his sword. The desire of A Father’s Gift’s to reave the very life from his enemies. 

A burning halo of red hung in the dust. Mana-packed claws plunged for his chest. He slashed down, aiming for a wing.

The dustcrowned owl reacted instantly — an explosion of powder rocketing it to the right. The burst took it away from his swing, but it didn’t abandon its attack. Kaius knew with a certainty it would rake his thigh. 

A worthy sacrifice.

Kaius narrowed his eyes, levering against his pommel and twisting through his hips to rotate into a horizontal cleave.

The tip of his blade ripped through the owl's ankle, right as its other claws plunged into the meat of his left leg. His scalemail blunted the strike — preventing his quad from being ripped out. Metal still tore, and Kaius felt three bloody furrows cut a halfway into his leg.

Blood poured down his trousers.

In return, he took an entire limb. Severed by his blow, one claw sailed into the streets behind him as the duskcrowned owl screamed. It flared its wings, banking high.

As it left, the dust blanketing the wall faded, blown away in the cold night breeze.

“Sir!” one of the guards nearest to him yelled, looking at the deep cuts to the muscle of his leg in horror.

Kaius merely shifted in his stance, tracking the owl through the night as it swirled around. “I’m fine! Just focus on staying out of the way!”

With Greater Regeneration supporting his physiology, the wound wouldn’t even slow him. Besides, he could already feel his flesh boiling. It would seal before their next clash.

He intended to make it the last.

Screeching in fury, the owl summoned waves of dust to batter away arrow after arrow. The men on the wall were doing their best, but it was pointless. Even backed by skills, it was more than twice the average level of the men on the wall. The best they managed were momentary bright flashes as it crushed their attacks with its shadowy cloak.

Kaius watched it approach, judging how best to bring it down. He didn’t exactly have much room to maneuver up on the wall, even separated from the closest guards by ten longstrides. Nor could he waste his spells, not so early in the night. 

It would be ready for him now, and wary of his blade.

A Nail would be worth it, but judging by the way its cloak of dust surged towards arrows like a prehensile limb, there was a good chance it would put up enough resistance that the beast would have time to dodge.

He narrowed his eyes — would simple bait be enough? It was a beast, but they were still capable of vicious cunning, and who knew what effect the Tyrant had on its instincts.

Still, in the current circumstances, luring it in with an ‘open’ guard was his best bet.

Kaius shifted his stance, holding his blade behind him at a downwards angle, his front utterly open — a tail guard. At his blatant provocation, the owl screeched again.

Its giant wings beat, surging with the potency of a skill as it swooped out over the city. In deadly silence, it turned — more powerful beats accelerating it into a sudden dive. The move took it behind him, visible only as the faintest blur of movement in the corner of his eye.

The men near him let out screams of alarm. 

Kaius grinned as he kept his back to the creature — shifting just enough to catch a hint of its trajectory. Heat surged within him stoking his anticipation. Owls were common in the Sea. He’d spent many an hour watching them. 

They always struck the same. A silent dive into a blindspot, followed by a flare of the wings.

The dustcrowned owl drew closer, whirling smog obscuring its form. Their one brush hadn’t been enough for it to confirm it was useless against him.

Kaius leaned into his Sergeant's Insight and Moment of Flow. He could feel the line that the owl was cutting through the air; feel the throbbing heat of where it would plunge its claws straight into the back of his neck, paralysing him. Its weaknesses practically sang to him. Hollow bones, fragile joints, and the exposed banding of flight muscles on its breast.

Now!

Wings flared; Kaius tensed. Time slowed as Moment of Flow sped up his thoughts.

Roaring, Kaius pivoted as he drove power through his good leg. His blade swept up and over — a savage cleave as he pulsed stamina through his sword.

Face to face, he saw the burning red of Investiture reflected in its wide black eyes. Its shining claw slammed into his pauldron, scratching the metal deeply.

The razor edge of A Father’s Gift butchered its left wing, severing the limb utterly. Unbalanced, the owl cartwheeled to the side — slamming into the edge of the wall with a crack before it spun off into the city streets below.

Staggering back from their collision, Kaius gasped at the flaring heat from his shoulder. He watched the owl descend — crashing through a tiled roof. It thrashed, unable to right itself with only one leg and one wing.

Bolts of dust shot through the roof a moment later.

Kaius lurched to throw himself towards the building. It was basically a bagged quail right now, it would barely take him a second.

“Don’t you dare!” Ro said, yelling through the communication artefact in his ear. “I’ll put Steel teams on it — we need you on that wall!”

Kaius scowled, staring at the plumes of dust that rose from the beasts landing spot, but he turned his back to it all the same.

As he did, guards stared at him with wide eyes. They were bloodied — more than one roughly wrapping dressings around wounds while they waited for their injuries to heal. A few were being dragged to the back of the lines, uncontrollably hacking up constant globs of congealed dust — wounded by the simple aftershocks of his battle.

The sight cut through a little of the heat in his veins.  He breathed, forcing himself to focus on the horde that was about to hit the circle of dead ground around the city.

He had a job to do.

B4 Chapter 492: Defending the Wall, pt. 1

Backlit by the setting sun, Kaius stared out at the Frontier from Deadacre’s wall. It was soaked in soft amber, shadows lengthening by the minute as night fast approached.

He cared little for the tapestry of colours, and only slightly more for the constant nervous shuffling of the guards and militiamen that joined him in standing sentinel. He had eyes only for the horde that lurked only a few leagues away.

Beasts, in their many thousands, corralled by an intelligence that was cruel, capricious, yet devious all the same. Their exact numbers were difficult to make out, hidden by brush, long grass, and the occasional tree. Even with Truesight, individuals blurred together, the creatures so closely packed that they were like a single, living carpet.

The beasts’ advance had come slowly — and now they waited with the patience of an ambush predator. He’d bet his sword that they would strike the second the sun dipped fully below the horizon. With their sharper senses, the darkness would prove far less of an impediment for them than it would for his fellow defenders.

Outside of rangers, rogues and the like, ocular skills were not common. Stats did much to bridge the gap, but his fellow defenders didn’t have anywhere near the levels or class rarities to ignore darkness completely.

Kaius huffed to himself as he rested his hand on his pommel, careful to stay quiet. He was by far the strongest on his section of the wall, and he wouldn’t want to give the impression he was nervous. Not when he felt their eyes every few seconds.

At least he wasn’t pressed in tight ranks with the rest of them. As an elite fighter, he needed room to move if he was to be an effective asset..

That, and it made him awfully good bait — one that would choke any beast who took it. 

Some of them better take the blasted bait. His blood was running hot — all this sitting around and waiting for a fight was doing his damned head in. Thankfully, Hanrick and Rieker had chucked him and Porkchop right by the eastern gate — each holding one edge of it, right where the fighting was expected to be thickest. 

He couldn’t see his brother, not with parapets and gate houses in the way, but he could feel him only a hundred or so longstrides away. More than close enough they could come to one another's aid, if need be.

Mana tingled on his ear — one of the artefacts that Ro had given him, a set of communication earstuds. It was the one that linked him in with his team, rather than the wider command network. Kenva’s voice came through a moment later, slightly washed out and thin.

“How’s it looking down there on the front?” the ranger asked.

She wasn’t far from him, thank the gods — she and Ianmus had been placed in one of the closest stone siege towers that had been raised in the last few days. Close enough that he wouldn’t have to worry about them being cut off without support if there was a breach.

Kaius flicked his eyes across the men around him. They were nervous, that much was clear — but as far as he could tell it was just pre-battle jitters.

“The guards are nervous, but that's to be expected. Sunset’s nice, I suppose — just glad it's not shining in our faces.” he replied, making sure to keep his voice low enough to not be overheard. 

Kenva snorted, “Just be careful — it’s damn clear from up here that the army is massing to assault the gate. Those mages might have raised some extra stone defences, but its mundane rock — it wont last forever, and we still haven’t managed to locate any of the Tyrant’s stronger forces.”

Not one of them, him included, thought that the army was actually limited to Steel beasts. There would be worse; he was sure of it, and he was ready.

“I know, I’ll keep the risks to a minimum.”

Kaius couldn’t stop himself from eying the men around him. It wasn’t him she should be worried about. Looking at the ordered ranks of men with spears and bows, he only saw the labourers, cooks, and craftsmen that they were. Even the guards, with their better training and higher levels, felt fragile to him.

They weren’t soldiers, and even if they were, what kind of soldier trained to fight an army of Iron and Steel beasts, let alone worse?

No matter, if there were Silver or — gods forbid — Gold forces, that would be his and the rest of the elites responsibility to deal with.

At least they had been forewarned. Rotten roots, if Dross hadn’t made it back, there was the very real possibility that they would have only spotted the army when it was too late to properly prepare.

They’d had time to reinforce the city, arm the defenders, and pull in support from Mystral. They had plans — they could do this.

The last briefing they’d had was clear — if the Tyrant was smart, it would send in its flying forces first, to tie up their archers while the bulk of the army advanced. Unfortunately, there was little he could do to help that.

Which he hated.

Logically, he knew that everyone had their role to play — his was to break the initial charge with multiple casts of Starfall as the beast's advance was broken upon the dragon's teeth that coated the land outside the walls. With that one spell dominating the vast majority of his pool, he’d split the rest between Nails, Shunts, and Bound Maelstrom — things likely to help in a pinch.

Yet he wasn’t supposed to use any of them until the ground forces got close enough — not unless he was targeted directly.

Thinking about just sitting around and waiting while others fought the aerial threat until then still made his skin crawl. It was all so…reactive. Battle required seizing the initiative — moving first and controlling the tempo of movement so that your opponent was forced onto the back foot.

So far, war was not that. 

Kaius had set up ambushes before, and waited for the right moment to strike. It was clear to him, as he stood atop Deadacre’s wall and waited for the tide of hunger to rush in, that his current circumstances weren’t even close to similar. They were all just waiting to be attacked.

It felt as natural as baring his neck to a slashing blade.

Suppressing a sigh, he shifted his grip from his pommel to his hilt. At least he had Hellblade Investiture. While he hadn’t had much time to experiment with the skill, what little he had gotten made him sure he’d made a good choice. The drain on his stamina was manageable, and the roiling red energy that surrounded the weapon seemed…potent. More than potent enough for any threats that he should face, at least.

The sun dipped further down the horizon — slipping beneath the western wall. The frontier grew dark enough that Truesight kicked in, colours gradually washing away into shades of grey. The fires that dotted the wall and city below weren’t quite bright enough to light up more than the immediate area around the city.

Far to his left, one of the officers walked the line.

“Ready yourselves! Today we put down little more than rabid animals. Will you let them pass to slaughter your sons and your daughters? Your sisters and your brothers? Your spouses?”

“No!” the guards shouted out. 

Kaius saw more than one straighten.

“Good!” The officer clapped one of the militiamen on the back. “Because the only thing standing between some mangy beast with an empty belly and everything you love, including our dear city itself, is you!”

They prodded another guard directly in the back.

“This is not the petty squabbling of thin-dicked nobles! This is not some group of brutish bandits that can be placated with enough barrels of dog-piss and mouldy grain! This is a battle for survival!”

Gods, the man didn’t hold back — Kaius could see the vein throbbing in the man's neck as he yelled himself hoarse. Yet, as plain and as dark as his words were, they worked. Spines stiffened, eyes went hard, and once loosely milling groups straightened into the lines they had been drilled on. 

Hells, Kaius could even admit that his blood was roaring just a little hotter.

The officer walked past him, looking up to meet his eyes for a moment. The man gave him a respectful nod — but didn’t stop yelling.

“Tonight will be hard! There will be blood, and there will be losses. But if you would falter, think of those closest to you! Then, think of a wolf eating their entrails while they scream for a mercy that does not exist! That is what we fight. Not thinking peoples — beasts. They are hungry, and they need to be put down! Will you fight?!”

The reply was instant, a hundred voices screaming in unison as hilts were smacked against shields, and spears were thumped against the cold stone of the city's walls.

“YES!”

It was a cry joined in a loose chorus by many thousands more — men and women alike rousing their fighting spirits as they stared out onto a field of monstrous fury and screamed their defiance.

Kaius simply grinned, loosening his blade in his scabbard with a soft click.

Before the last rousing calls had finished, the sun fully set. Darkness swept over the city, banished only by fires tended to by the hands of men.

With night, came war.

A/N: slightly shorter chapter because my beta reader pointed out it was way too good of a stopping point, and the next line was also way too good of a starting point. Does mean the weekend chapter will be extra chunky though.

B4 Chapter 491: Intermission & Gains, Finale

Slumping in his chair, Kaius pulled up his notifications. He might have been exhausted from hours of constant combat, and he still felt a little frazzled from his direct brush with death, but that changed little.

There was an army outside of the city. As much as they had been told to rest, he and his team represented a significant portion of the city's strongest fighters. They needed to pick their skills and get out there.

Thinking of the ability that waited for him, Kaius couldn’t help but feel a flush of excitement. The leap that Drakthar had taken when it evolved was palpable and visceral — he felt it in his bones every time he cast Starfall.

It made him all the more hungry for what Initiate’s Glyphic Bladerite might become. It was a cornerstone of his build — the thing that linked his soul with his final inheritance.  Plus, unlike Drakthar, the skill was currently only Unique. If it jumped up to Heroic, the boons he received from the evolution would be only that much more impactful.

*Ding! Runeblade Hellion has reached level 222!* 

*+6 Int; +5 Con, Str, Wil; +2 Vit, Dex; +1 Free - from Class & Racial Traits!*

*Ding! Class Skill available for selection!*

Hellblade Investiture:

Class Skill - Tier II

Affinity: Arcane, Martial

Type: Glyph-binding, Runic, Armament Enhancement, Longsword

Selection Available!

Heroic

The Path of the Hellion is a precarious and domineering one. All threats are met with total force. The wise recognise that this is a fatal flaw. You say that power overwhelming is the answer, Initiate?  What of the next monstrosity that lurks, waiting for your spellhymns to run dry, for your wounds to bleed long, and your mana to sputter in the wind? It is there, I promise you — the second you believe it is not is the day you die. When that moment comes, you will reach for your oldest friend. We all do.

Tier I:

This skill links the user with their bonded blade, passively reinforcing the durability and edge of their blade.

This link allows the user to sense their blade from a distance, and allows limited proprioception. 

Due to the Hellion’s soul investiture in their blade, enchantments can be continuously empowered for the cost of 50 stamina a second

Tier II:

Deepening connections fill the Hellblade with the relentless ferocity of their master, allowing further enchantment empowerment, flooding the blade with a field of cutting savagery, and increasing cost to 400 stamina a second

Enables the user to reinforce their bonded weapon with relevant materials, effects of reinforcement vary depending on materials used.

Each level greatly increases the strength of active empowerment of enchantments.

Each level moderately increases the strength and density of the projected energy field

Each level moderately increases baseline weapon reinforcement.

…

Hellion’s Rite of Slaughter:

Class Skill - Tier II

Affinity: Arcane, Martial

Type: Glyph-binding, Runic, Armament Enhancement, Longsword

Selection Available!

Heroic

What’s that, Initiate? What if there’s another monster? Are you daft? The lion does not fear the mutt — kill the first one hard enough, break their spirit utterly, and the pack will flee.

Tier I:

This skill links the user with their bonded blade, allowing them to coat their weapon with a furious discharge of energy that will sunder even the toughest foes. Costs 300 stamina.

This link allows the user to sense their blade from a distance. 

Tier II:

Steeped in blood, the Hellion’s slaughter reaches new heights. Bloody energy extends the Hellion’s weapon, further strengthening attacks, increasing reach, and leaving wounds that struggle to heal. Stamina cost is increased to 1200.

Enables the user to reinforce their bonded weapon with relevant materials, effects of reinforcement vary depending on materials used.

Each level reasonably increases the strength of the skill.

Each level moderately increases the maximum possible length of the skill.

Each level moderately increases the difficulty of recovering from wounds.

Kaius grinned at the blatant dichotomy in the skills epigraphs. It seemed that, wherever they were, the order of Vesryn Runeblade’s were not monolithic in their ethos, tactics, and viewpoints — not even within the same bounds of class roles.

Each skill clearly had its own focus, one reflected in the epigraphs. He could see the benefits of both — providing himself with a stalwart, reliable option that would be able to carry him with or without spells, or one that leaned into the Hellions overwhelming destructive might.

Porkchop shook his head, eyes refocusing as he looked over to Kaius.

“What’s got you so amused?” 

“My epigraphs — it seems that there was something of a philosophical divide on approaches to the weapon bond skill.”

Across their common room, Ianmus let out a laugh. “You don’t say — I would sooner see the sky fall than a group of opinionated classers exclusively agree on the best way to do something. I’ve seen professors come near to blows over which energy density was most efficient for combat casting when using light. It amounted to a fractional difference in output versus cost, might I add.”

Wasn’t that the truth. Kaius supposed he could be glad that he was the sole glyphbinder on his world — as the first, he had the privilege of ignoring all future disagreement as the ravings of the foolish and inexperienced. 

“What are your options then?” Porkchop asked.

“Fairly similar to now — it essentially boils down to a choice between staying power and quick, expensive, bursts. The latter has a bit more range, and the former also grants me a physical sense of my blade's position.”

“Is that good?”

“Gods yes. It’s just a question if it's enough to offset the maximum offensive output of my other option. I think it does. I have Drakthar, Mystic’s Rend, and Hymnfocus to lean on for pure, raw output — something that I can maintain for extended battles without draining myself dry is what I need.”

Kenva started nodding. “Everyone needs a good bread and butter ability, and if it still uses stamina, all the better. You’re a little underleveraged for that resource.”

His thoughts exactly. So much of his kit was entirely dependent on his mana reserves. It wasn’t the worst issue in the world — he sure as the hells had a lot of it. That said, he had stamina by the bucketfull as well. It was a waste not to make use of it. 

“What about you, Ianmus?” he asked. The mage’s eyes had gone glossy again, and he had a thoughtful frown on his face; clearly he was a little torn.

Ianmus blinked. “Two keyseals, which I'm not complaining about. Spring’s Radiance and The Night’s Watch.”

“Why the frown then, mageboy?”

“Well…I want them both.”

Who didn’t. Kaius gave his friend a grin, but didn’t interrupt him.

“Ones familiar — something of a continuation of Sundrenched Strength. Like Rising Dawn, it’ll reserve a significant chunk of my pool, but gather mana that can be spent on a first or second tier spell, in this case enhancement spells. The other… It's a Lunar affinity skill. Wards and barriers — which we sorely need.”

Kaius nodded thoughtfully, before he raised his brow at Porkchop. He knew both of them were of the same mind — enhancement magic was good, but rarely was their problem to do with their physical abilities. A skill that would help them take a hit, or keep their backline safe, on the other hand?

That sounded much more appetising. 

“Are you sure?” Kenva said when they shared their thoughts. “It’s the two of you who always end up cut to ribbons when we fight.”

“I’m sure. Me and Porkchop have been slashed, disembowled, crushed… fuck, I am literally missing a leg right now. I barely even remember all of our injuries — but I remember that ruinbringer spiking Ianmus in the chest, and you getting folded like a letter by that last Guardian we faced in our most recent delve. Until the two of you get some sort of regenerative ability, we need that extra layer of defense.”

Ianmus met his eyes, and eventually gave him a slow nod. “A fair point — in any case, exploring lunar affinity magic is plenty exciting enough on its own.”

“My turn!” Kenva said, sitting up straight in her chair as she clapped her hands. She went serious, slowing down her words like she was explaining something to a child. “Big arrow go even faster, or big arrow explode?”

Kaius looked at Porkchop, then he looked at Ianmus.

“Explode,” they said in unison.

Kenva grinned, clapping her hands again. “I’m so glad we agree! Bare Thy Heart it is!”

Kaius raised an eyebrow. The name was certainly on the nose — Heartseeker of Dro’durn indeed.

He couldn’t wait to see it in action. 

“Mine are a little straight forward — ones not so good for our formation.”

“Oh?” Ianmus asked. “I wouldn’t have expected that for a class with Knight in the name — they’re usually all about formation tactics.”

“Yeah, the epigraph mentions something about errants? It’s definitely for a more solitary creature who has taken up armaments — it’ll extend my Prismatic Shardwall into an expanding circle the whole way around me. Great, except for the fact it will get in the way of the rest of you.”

Kaius winced, yeah, that didn’t sound too hot. He might feel pretty confident working around such an ability, but Ianmus? 

“What’s the other option?” Kaius asked, hopeful it would mesh more with their tactics.

“Ephemeral Phalanx, it summons a shieldwall of hollow suits of armour with their spears level in an arc in front of me — they charge before dissipating.”

Well now, that sounded much better to him. “Seems pretty clear to me. If we’ve all made our choices, we should lock them in and go meet with Ro — this rest has been good, but I want to be ready for when those beasts finally decide to pounce.”

Getting nods from his team, Kaius turned his attention inwards, focusing on his choice.

**Ding! Are you sure you wish to evolve Initiate’s Glyphic Bladerite to Hellblade Investiture? This choice is irrevocable and permanent!**

B4 Chapter 490: Intermission & Gains, pt. 1

Soaked to the bone in the blood of beasts, Kaius trudged down the stairs of Deadacre’s wall. 

Arc’theros was leading the way, somehow even more drenched than the rest of them. The man was a living maul — his every movement had pulped the creatures that had the dire misfortune of being in his path.

Their escape had been swift after that — the Tyrant’s forces had retreated the second they’d come in range of the city's archers. Bloody unnatural, the way they had raced back to the bulk of the approaching army.

Kaius did his best to ignore the men and women who were staring at them from atop the walls. City guard, militia, it didn’t matter. They were all watching them with awe.

It felt wrong. 

He knew, logically, that they’d done well. More than fifty souls still breathed that would have otherwise suffered brutal, bloody deaths. 

A man had still died.

If he’d just been a little quicker — noticed the pikenose just a little earlier… Kaius scrunched his eyes shut, trying to banish the sight of the impaled hunter from his mind. It only grew more vivid. 

It didn’t seem right. Not only had he and his team never been in any real danger, they’d benefited. He and Porkchop had broken through their final skill to the second tier, and all of them were able to evolve their second class skill. Hells, he and Porkchop had managed a level beyond that.

“This one has some small wisdoms if you would hear them.” Arc said, still facing dead ahead as he strode down the stairs with his back tall.

“Huh? Sure,” Kaius replied, looking up.

Arc didn’t reply immediately, silence stretching long over their descending group. 

“This one is familiar with the sting of lost life — all who seek to stand tall as paragons are. You know this, have likely known for some time. Very recently, you learned that this does little to lighten the weight of a life, even when it is a stranger.”

Kaius grunted, “I suppose you will say it gets easier in time? Less burdensome?”

“No, though it does. What this one would say is that it is important that you find a way to deal with the burden. Those who try to bury it rarely last long.”

And how was he supposed to do that?

Behind him, Porkchop let out a low rumble, “In the dens, we would hunt and brawl in honour of the fallen… But no one was a stranger there. Feels less appropriate.”

To Kaius’s surprise, Arc chuckled, “This one thinks you would be surprised. Some vent frustration, some use failure as fuel to grow, and some simply share stories and commiserate. This one thinks that there is no wrong answer under the eyes of the myriad gods — so long as you do not let it crush you, yes?”

Kaius nodded, and silence fell over their group once more. 

Focusing on those he had saved helped, though not completely. It was a hard thing to focus on, when he knew that everything they had faced today was only a prelude. 

War was on the horizon, and death followed as its shadow.

….

Hot water was good. Cleansing. 

The blood ran off him in rivulets, washing away and taking some of the sting with it. Arc had given him much to think about. He could admit that the man was right.

Trying to stifle… whatever he was feeling, was the wrong move. It wasn’t quite grief. He didn’t know the man well enough for it to be that. 

Guilt? Maybe. Certainly at least a little. 

Inadequacy?

Definitely. As ridiculous as it was, with all that he’d achieved, it was hard to avoid the certainty that the man would have lived if they were a little stronger.

Their walk through the city had been… strange. The fugue of their sudden arrival to safety was only just starting to wear off. It’d left him, not quite dazed, but perhaps a little less alert than he normally was.

Rieker and Ro had come to check on them of course — but both had just shared a glance with Arc before they’d told him to get cleaned up and rest. Bastards. There was a bloody siege about to start at any moment, and they still found the time to accommodate his precious feelings. 

It was a small mercy, but at least that meant that they’d been left well enough alone on their journey back to the Stables. The streets had been packed, but everyone was so focused on moving to the underground shelters that very few had eyes to spare for a team of delvers — bloodsoaked or no.

Reaching over, Kaius swiped the bottle he’d snagged from behind Hensch’s bar. Angel that he was, the man had waited long enough to give them a key to the inn before he’d sheltered in the ruins. All of his current guests had one now. 

The liquor burned as it went down, but it didn’t seep into his belly like it would have when he was unclassed. He’d far too much Vitality and poison resistance for that. It was bottom shelf, of course — even though he could afford every drop of spirits that Hensch owned a hundred times over, it would have been a waste to grab something nice.

He swallowed another mouthful. 

A bit of a performative act, but fuck it — he’d just watched a man die. 

Kaius quickly set the bottle back on the shelf before he accidentally shattered the glass by gripping it too hard.

“You alright?” Porkchop asked, lying wet and bedraggled at the other end of the wash room. 

“Not really, but I will be — it’s just another reason to get stronger.”

“True.”

Kaius let the water run over his face as he kept thinking. “It doesn’t really change anything, does it? We always knew the integration was killing people — it's a big bloody reason we want to finish it.”

“Yeah, but there’s a big difference between knowing it hurts to get stabbed and having a sword planted halfway in your belly — and knowing it will heal doesn’t make it hurt less either.”

Kaius snorted. “True. Don’t know why I’m the most affected though. Ianmus and Kenva seem fine…ish. ”

Rising to his feet, Porkchop walked over to him and prodded him in the chest with a single claw. “Don’t be an idiot. You looked him in the eyes. We didn’t. That’s no small thing.”

Kaius just sighed and started to lather his hair, working out the crud that had accumulated. Odd not-guilt aside, he could feel a seed of defiant frustration building. That Tyrant needed to pay, and he planned to use its death as a stepping stone for his own growth. 

He was no fool. Even if he was the strongest being in existence, he couldn’t prevent every tragedy — but he could prevent more. That was enough for him. 

For every death that was surely to come, he would repay in kind. 

“There we go, that’s the spirit. Want to check out how Brotherhood of Ichor and Animus changed before we meet up with the others to discuss our Skill options?” Porkchop asked, taking a seat next to him on the tiled floor. 

Rinsing off the last of his soap, Kaius nodded before he deactivated the enchantment that fueled the hot water spraying from the spigot above him. Grabbing their towels, he wadded one up and threw it full force at Porkchop’s nose.

“Hey!”

Kaius just grinned and pulled up the changed description of his skill.

Brotherhood of Ichor and Animus:

General Skill - Tier II

Affinity: Soul, Primal

Type: Bond, Body Enhancement

Level 202

Heroic

Blood calls to blood, soul shines to soul. A bond is forged, and strength and wisdom is shared.

Tier I:

Skill that creates a bond of equals, linking your body and soul to a willing greater beast. Allows perfect mental communication, proprioception, and a sense of their location within a certain distance. Experience, achievements, and feats are shared equally between both parties. When favourable, both parties are treated as a single entity in the eyes of the system. 

Bolstered by the blood and marrow of the greater meles, your body is continually reforged and reinforced.

Tier II:

Drawing on the natural vigour and ferocity of greater beasts, this skill empowers other Body Enhancement skills.

The transfiguration of your deepest marrow is completed, and change sweeps through your bones. 

Grants the Racial Trait ‘Greater Beastblooded’

Each level significantly increases the distance at which you can sense and communicate with your bonded companion.

Each level slightly increases the efficacy of other body enhancement skills.

In the first tier, each level minutely increases the potency of your body's baseline, empowering you physically and mentally. This change is permanent.

In the second tier, each level slightly reinforces your baseline skeleton, granting you the stalwart endurance of your bonded.

“Huh,” Kaius said, slipping on clean clothes. “Pretty straightforward buff to body enhancement skills — not quite what I expected it to progress to. Still a nice bonus — I've got quite a few of those, and it’ll stack up a lot given enough time.”

Any ability that improved others was a good one. They were a good parallel to Honours — something that let you leverage more strength than would otherwise be available to you, and scaled continuously as you grew.

He was surprised at the change to how the skill affected his body. It was, in some senses, a loss — the benefits did apply before stats, so losing that substantial scaling to his capabilities was rough. That said, he would not complain about stronger bones. Crush injuries were nightmarish to recover from, and considering that his largest weaknesses were his brain and his heart, extra defense for the two of them was no small thing.

Plus, he suspected that the increased toughness would scale with the earlier changes he had already undergone.

He raised his brow at Porkchop after sharing the extra change. “You said you got something similar right?”

“Yeah, actually. It’s done with making my soul more malleable to insight, now it's making it a bit easier for me to manipulate Essence and my resources. I imagine it’ll come in handy for later in refinement. As for the skill bonus, it's for Armament skills. Says I'm grasping the ‘ingenuity of the higher races’. Total drivel.”

Kaius snorted, “Sure it is.”

Porkchop paused for a moment — their bond made it blatantly obvious to Kaius that he had a question on his mind.

“What’s up?”

“You nearly hit the first stage of refinement. Are you still there? Will you break through if you cycle?”

He understood why Porkchop had been a little nervous to bring it up. While he had no idea how, it was impossible to forget that it was their team's essence that had drawn the beasts to a new height of coordination. Perhaps they had drawn the Tyrant's attention, and it had commanded its forces directly, or it was just some inbuilt effect of its influence.

Kaius sighed, running his hand through his hair. It was impossible to know if there would have still been a death without their essence making things more complicated. However, it was certain that everyone would have died without their assistance.

Smarter men might have been willing to waste time on the question of culpability, he didn’t have the patience for that. He just had to do better next time.

“No,” he finally answered. “I was close, but it feels like some sort of threshold. I need the right push to cross the barrier, essence alone won't do it.”

“A shame, but I am sure we will all be done with the first stage soon enough.”

That they would — there would be plenty of battle to hone themselves in. The Tyrant especially. It would learn it had made a mistake targeting Deadacre. It thought them prey; he would crush it for its erring judgement.

“Come on, let's go join the others. We have skills to pick.”

Filing out of the wash room, they found their friends already waiting for them by the fireplace — all of their collective gear was already drying out in the warmth. Cleaning that had been the first thing any of them had done.

No one wanted to strap on armour caked in coagulated blood. 

Ianmus perked up when he caught sight of them. “Skill time?”

“Skill time,” Kaius replied with a grin.

Sliding into an open seat, he pulled up his waiting options.

*Ding! Class skill ready for evolution!*

A/N:

So this isn't supposed to feel like a nerf, more of the start of progressive changes that come together holistically. If it does feel like one, im open to tweaking scaling etc so that it doesnt.

B4 Chapter 489: Plight of the Living, Finale

A/N: Soz for the short delay, had to go trawling through documents to find all of my formatting for notifications lol

A teeming black cloud surged across the sky, racing towards the Pegleg. Kaius could have almost mistaken the flowing blob as a flock of starlings — if not for the fact that he could pick out the individual beasts. Birds, bats, and insects alike, they moved with focused fury.

The flock was a mere fraction of the tyrant’s aerial forces. Their numbers had still swelled to hundreds of beasts. 

More than enough to stop Ophelia from retrieving the last group of survivors. Kaius scowled, his mind racing as he searched for some solution. They were so close. Mere minutes, and they would have been able to store their landyacht and run back to Deadacre. With their stat advantage, there was no way their pursuers would have been able to catch them.

That plan was dead in the water. Without the storm mage, they were locked to the Pegleg. 

Would they even be able to make it? Ianmus and Kenva would be directly exposed to the flying beasts, forcing him to defend them from above with full focus — and taking his backline’s attention away from defending their vessel’s legs.

No, he couldn’t be defeatist. They would hold on. This close to Deadacre, they only had to hold out for long enough to get in range of the defenders on the walls. The dragon’s teeth that the Mystral earth mages had raised would break the advance of the beasts. In comparison, the Pegleg would be barely slowed — its spider legs were almost perfect for racing over the fortifications.

The flying beasts though…

Kaius eyed the black cloud, already growing larger as the beasts closed the distance. Defiant heat raced through his blood — he still had Starfall. 

The thought buoyed him as he cleaved through the neck of a bright red fox. Blood splashed onto the deck, steaming with unnatural heat. 

The war magic would buy them time. It might not be large enough to cover the entire field of battle, and no doubt much of the fliers would survive, but it would scatter them — and break the horde that surged beneath them.

“Kaius, we’ve got a problem!” Porkchop called out.

The warning ripped his attention to the massing forces beneath their vessel. Shock raced through his spine — they were different. 

The beasts still followed them with dogged fury, but the mindlessness was gone. No longer did they claw at each other in a single minded focus to reach the Pegleg. They were organised.

Kaius watched as three unified groups formed — regimented like a battalion of professional soldiers. 

The largest, central group charged forward, right into Porkchop’s waiting arms. Through their bond, Kaius saw the beasts flow around him — latching onto anything they could. More of their number threw themselves suicidally at Porkchop, forcing him to deal with them with his full attention.

They did little to wound his brother, but the simple weight of so many bodies all but locked Porkchop in position. 

A Shardwall ripped out of the ground. The beasts split, leaping to the side to attack Porkchop from another angle. 

Kaius’s attention snapped to the other groups — peeling away to the sides. 

They surged in a heartbeat later. Racing right for their landyacht’s legs. 

His eyes widened in realisation. With Porkchop pinned, he couldn’t react to the three pronged attack. 

How? Where was the unthinking fury? Had the Tyrant taken direct control?

He didn’t have time to think on it any longer — each flanking group dived for the back legs of the landyacht.

“Take left!” Kaius called to his back line, diving for the right hand side of the deck. Hearing the crack of arrows and spells behind him, he reached for his own magic.

At the head of the group, Kaius watched a wolf swell with power — muscles growing until it’s skin was so distended it looked like its skin might rip. It lunged.

Kaius fired a Nail. Steel ripped through the beast’s skull.

*Ding! You have slain Shadehound - Level 102 Darkfang Pursuer! Experience Gained! Reduced Experience for slaying a foe of significantly lower level!*

The beast's carcass slammed into the steel leg of their landyacht. Many more followed. Heavy oxen-like creatures with armor plating. Long-legged herbivores with skulls of bone. Powerful lizards with crushing tails. 

Kaius unleashed on the beasts, lightning and thunder crackling in the clear sky. He spent everything he had. If the beasts managed to destroy their vessel's legs; if they were grounded, there was no way they could keep the remaining villagers alive. 

There were so damned many of them. He crushed their advance alone, yet the damage was done. Deep cracks and rents spread through the lower half of the leg he had been defending. With every step, its lowest joint seized, jerking. Great gouts of sparks erupted from the damage every time the limb was forced to bear the peg-leg's weight. 

The beast pulled back, and Kaius eyed the regrouping mass with incensed frustration, his jaw-clenched tight.

Another assault like that, and the damaged legs were sure to fail. Just defending from that one push had drained a fifth of his remaining Stormlashes. They needed a plan — one that would let them break the charge and buy some time. 

As soon as the aerial beasts arrived, there was no way they could defend another attack like that.

“Ideas?!” he called.

“I’ve got one!” Ianmus replied back — unleashing beams of solar magic from his keyseal as he devoted his attention to weaving a new spell with sorcery. “I can blind them. Kenva, can you hit the front lines with Ensnaring Seedburst when I do? It’ll kill their momentum.”

“Easy! Just give me warning when you’re ready!” Kenva replied, never halting from her constant barrage.

Kaius readied himself. If his backline could blind and snare the beasts, it would be the perfect moment to use Starfall. 

Defending his friends, he watched the mana Ianmus worked go brighter and denser. The weaves were tight, but simplistic — more raw power, than a complicated shaping. A hundred levels ago, that amount of mana would have taken Ianmus ten minutes or more to channel — now it came together in less than one.

It was still enough time for the approaching flock of aerial beasts to reach them. 

Kaius’s stomach knotted as the teaming cloud poured down. The beasts screamed in rage, everything from wasps as large as his thigh, to owls that left trails of mist in their wake.

He flicked a glance towards Ianmus; the mage was still channeling.

Blast it all, if he waited any longer the fliers would be on them. Ianmus might lose his concentration entirely. Better to use Starfall early than risk their plan.

He reached for his spell.

“Now, Kenva!” Ianmus cried.

Five shots snapped off in quick succession, each one imbued with the ranger’s mana and stamina. Vines sprouted across the front line of chasing beasts, curling over everything they could reach. Thorns wormed their way into flesh, digging around scales and finding softspots that let them drink deep.

Ianmus thrust his hand forward.

Light consumed all.

Even with Truesight, Kaius was forced to squint. Blinded utterly, the charging beasts slammed into their vanguard that had been pinned by Kenva’s skill. Bones snapped; their lines collapsed.

Kaius snapped up — the diving fliers were screeching, scattered and stunned by the sudden blast.

Perfect.

Responding to his will, a tightly wound packet of mana on his wrist ruptured. 

Kaius directed his spell high, up above the milling flock. A void opened in the sky, like a chunk of reality had been torn free, large enough to cover a full third of the forces that chased them. 

In the aftermath of Ianmus’s spell, it was hard to see the falling lights. 

The howl of their descent was far less missable. Where the stars passed, beasts died. Smote fliers fell to the ground in smoking silence, joined by so much scattered viscera as each burning orb detonated in the massed beasts below. 

*Ding! You have slain Boneash Moth - Level 118 Nightwing! Experience Gained! Reduced Experience for slaying a foe of significantly lower level!*

…

*Ding! You have slain Terrorspine Skink - Level 105 Goliath of Steel! Experience Gained! Reduced Experience for slaying a foe of significantly lower level!*

*Ding! Runeblade Helion has reached level 219 > 221!* 

*+6 Int; +5 Con, Str & Will; +2 Vit & Dex; +1 Free - from Class & Racial Traits!*

*Ding! Class skill available for selection!*

Kaius grinned, unable to help the hot thrill he felt at the devastation. Yet even with his next Skill available, his glee was short lived. 

Chained to the tyrant's will, the surviving beasts rallied immediately. Mirroring their previous assault, beasts surged towards the sides of their vessel — now joined by flying allies that dove towards Kaius and his backline.

A high-pitched scream rocked his chest. Kaius spun, snapping his blade up to cut through a bat that swooped at his side. He risked a glance towards Deadacre.

The walls were close. No longer hidden behind the horizon, he could see the fortifications left by the earth mages of Mystral. Yet the distance they enclosed mattered little, they were still too far from the defenders of the city to assist — leagues. There was no way common guards would be able to fire so far. 

Nor would the elites of the city be able to risk abandoning the walls. It was entirely possible this was all just a ploy — bait to pull away their strongest before the Tyrant struck at the city. It was entirely possible that it had its own Silvers and Golds hidden away, even if Dross had seen no sign of them.

Surrounded by flying beasts, Kaius was in a constant state of motion. He unleashed what spells he could to the beasts below to help take some pressure off Porkchop and wipe away the creatures that were desperately trying to cling to the Pegleg's limbs. 

They were persistent, a deadly threat he struggled to keep at bay. Ianmus and Kenva were no better off, forced to fire the flocking beasts, lest they be overrun. 

Just a little bit more — much closer and the Golds in the city would be able to assist without risking their defences.

“Kaius!” Porkchop screamed, using their bond to yank Kaius’s attention to the left hand side of their landyacht.

He locked onto the threat, ice flooding his spine. A beast, built like an ox with a steel grey coat. It had a single horn that needle tipped and as long as his arm  — and was so packed full of mana he was surprised it hadn’t detonated.

He knew the creature. A pikenose — native to the frontier. He’d heard more than one of his fellow delvers complain about them. Armour breakers. 

Rotten roots, the Pegleg was tough, but it had been battered by constant assault. The pikenose would rip it open like it was made of tin.

Fuelled by a sudden jolt of shock, Kaius snapped his hand towards the beast. 

Making a mockery of its bulk, the pikenose leapt straight for the side of the landyacht. Kaius cast a Hateful Nail. 

Only for claws to wrap around his forearm, slamming the limb down. A raptor of some sort, diving from above. Kaius hurled it to the ground, ignoring the stinging crack of his bones as he stomped on the creature's chest.

The damage had already been done. His Nail plunged into the pikenose’s front leg. Unfurling, steel wires ripped the limb clean off as it bellowed in pain.

It slammed its horn into the landyacht’s hull. Metal plating let out a tortured squeal as the creature bucked its neck. 

It was joined by a gutwrenching scream of terror and agony.

As the pikenose fell, Kaius watched in horror as a man came with it. One of the surviving hunters, screaming as he was skewered atop the beast's horn like a prized catch. Blood fountained from his mouth as he desperately reached for the lost safety of the Pegleg. 

Kaius locked eyes with the man.

He saw only a terror-filled accusation.

The hanging moment ended; man and beast fell, disappearing as they were trampled.

“No!” Kaius screamed — he’d promised them! They’d almost made it!

The sound drew Kenva’s attention. 

“Shit!”

He grit his teeth, burying the cutting wound deep beneath a surge of hot fury. He had to move. More beasts were already racing for the hole — if one of them got inside, the rest of the survivors would meet the same fate.

Kaius locked eyes with Kenva. She nodded, slinging her bow over her shoulder as she drew two daggers from her belt. 

“Go! I’ll keep Ianmus safe!”

Giving his friend a nod, he detonated a Shunt. Grabbing the edge of the Pegleg, Kaius swung down — into the narrow and jagged hole the pikenose had made.

He did his best to ignore the terrified screams behind him, focusing on his fury, the throbbing tempo of his bloodsong — and the wolflike beast that launched itself straight at him. 

Kaius booted it in the chest, sending flailing down to the teaming horde below.

He fell into a slaughter, cutting and hacking as beast after beast threw itself in him. With the hull breached, the beasts grew hungry — focusing on the easiest entry they had. 

The exertion was numbing, as was the constant blur of his blade. It kept him grounded in the present — where he didn’t have to think about the man's eyes. Wide, bloodshot, brown. 

His next kill hit the ground, forcing apart the beast's formation. Kaius caught sight of hardpacked, cracked earth. The dead circle, they were just over a league from the walls.

They’d been so bloody close. 

Barely a minute later a man-shaped missile in bone armour raced forwards, their form covered in a cone of roiling energy. Arc’theros hit the beasts in an explosion of gore. 

The rescue left only a bitter taste on his tongue.

B4 Chapter 488: Plight of the Living, pt. 6

Surrounded by the dying cries of beasts, Kaius’s pillars started to flare. 

Every minute of their battle was more chaotic than the last. It was only by dint of their overwhelming strength, the speed of their flight, and the mindless aggression of their opponents that they survived. 

If they were a little weaker, a little slower, they would have been overrun in moments. If the Tyrant’s army had any semblance of coordination, they would have been outmanevered.

For all their advantages, they still struggled. Since Ophelia’s last trip, the Pegleg had been hammered. Slick with the gore of the fallen, its hull was dented — even torn in places, when they’d been too slow to slay beasts with armour-penetrating abilities. Kaius was astonished that all eight of the landyacht’s spider-like limbs still functioned. Bloody hells, two of them sparked with every step.

It was, perhaps, the single most frustrating battle of Kaius’s life. None of them were suited for a protracted battle on open ground like this. They couldn’t even use their speed! 

Yet a dozen souls relied on them — shielded by the dubious security of their vessel. 

That pressure, that responsibility, weighed heavily. It was a pressure that hammered in time with his heart, sinking deep into his very soul. A new kind, one he wasn’t used to.

He was no stranger to the risk of death, but it was something he had always faced personally. A looming spectre he could fight off with faith in his own capabilities, and trust in the strength of his companions. He knew what was too much — when they should flee, regroup, or fight to the bitter end.

This? A ceaseless battle against an army? Every instinct screamed that the best they could hope for was the grinding defeat of attrition. They should use their superior speed to flee for the walls of Deadacre, where fortifications and allies would balance the scales.

He only had to sign away the lives of twelve innocents if he wanted to do that.

So he fought on, and essence flowed within him. 

The energy boiled, absorbed by his pillars haphazardly without the direction of cycling. 

His Aspects may as well have been an iron fortress for how little they changed. Kaius could feel the bottleneck of the first stage of refinement like never before. He was so close — but there was no time to sit down and force the transition. Not in the middle of a battle.

Kaius saw a flash out of the corner of his eye — a beast, dead behind the Pegleg. Some kind of giant, scaled rodent, its natural armour gleamed like burnished brass. Mana was coalescing in its claws — yet another Skill.

Heat flushed through his veins; Kaius kicked off as a Shunt exploded behind him. Ianmus was right in the beast’s sights, and he wasn’t going to take any chances. 

A secondary detonation halted his advance, and Kaius touched down at the rear of the vessel. The rodent swiped — fingerlength claws raking a path through the air, a gleaming trail of energy hanging behind them for a bare moment.

Three carving arcs of energy shot straight for him. Kaius narrowed his eyes, lashing out with his blade in a rising parry. The beast’s skill might have been ephemeral in nature, but A Father’s Gift cared not one whit.

His sword cut the energy blades like they were solid, shattering the ability mid-flight. Shards of remnant metal-attuned mana crashed against his scalemail — leaving a sting like he had been slapped.

Kaius moved on, darting to his left where a beetle the size of his torso was clambering over the edge of the deck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an arrow pulp the rodent utterly.

Diving into a lunge, Kaius thrust through the beetle's head. Sparks erupted from its shell — racing up his blade. He grunted roughly, muscles in his arms seizing. The beetle’s retributive strike proved its undoing when Kaius’s spasm caused him to rip his blade sideways. The creature’s carapace ripped open with a crack, ichor spilling in a wave.

*Ding! You have slain Brassy Glintshell - Level 108 Steelback! Experience Gained! Reduced Experience for slaying a foe of significantly lower level!*

Continuing his nonstop movement, Kaius felt the familiar heat of essence through his bond. Porkchop’s aspects were flaring as well, incensed by his own war on the ground beneath the hull of their landyacht. 

It didn’t take long for that same welling of power to surge within Ianmus and Kenva. It was visible thanks to Truesight — a tiny mote of unmistakable strength that ebbed and flowed within the depths of their core. 

It might have been miniscule at their current stage of the path, but there was no mistaking essence. It had a tangibility, and a visceral potency that mana lacked. 

“The other’s too?” Porkchop asked, feeling what he had noticed through their bond.

“Yeah,” Kaius replied, even as he fired off one of his precious Nails at a lithe beast that leapt for Kenva’s back with its horn leveled.

“At least these mindless weaklings are good for something.”

Kaius grinned, as his heart pounded in time with the flow of essence within him. He did have to admit that it felt good to cut loose a little. Nothing quite hammered in how much he had grown like slaughtering Iron and Steel beasts by the dozen. Barely more than a year ago just one of these creatures would have proven a life or death battle.

Hell, two years ago even finding one would have been a notable occurrence in the Frontier. Beasts used to be rare in previously low-mana zones, let alone ones of this strength.

He just wished that they weren’t the only things separating their charges from certain death. 

Risking a glance towards the east, Kaius focused his Truesight. His eyes widened as he just barely made out the familiar grey stone of Deadacre’s walls peaking over the horizon. 

“I see Deadacre!” he called, redoubling his efforts as the sight of their goal soothed some of the burn in his limbs.

They were close! Ophelia would be returning soon, and they would be able to make their final dash to the city alone and unburdened.

Ianmus and Kenva both smiled, buoyed by the news.

“Thank the gods! My head is pounding.” Ianmus replied, simultaneously casting a ray from his hand as another bolt of solar magic erupted from his keyseal.

No wonder the mage had a headache, he’d been channeling without break since they’d first reached the fleeing villagers over an hour ago. No doubt the mana restoration tonics he’d been quaffing whenever he got the opportunity hadn’t helped things.

Falling into a rhythm, Kaius flowed through the battle — wrecking havoc against any beast that dared try for his backline. It was a hypnotic dance, no individual beast strong enough to push him to the point of madness — even if the constant crush forced him to a pace where he had no time to think.

In that state of instinctive motion, his essence began to move with an intention it had previously lacked. Drifting along to the tempo of his pounding heart and heaving breaths, it’s aimless drifting through his aspects halted. Guided by unconscious desires, it moved from pillar to pillar — shakily, and unsteadily, but cycling nonetheless.

The second Kaius noticed what was happening, he jolted — and the rhythm was lost. The mote within his sole went back to bobbing haphazardly, infusing his pillars only when it brushed up against them by random chance.

His heart rate picked up. No! He couldn’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

Xenanra had mentioned that cycling was possible in battle, but this was the first he’d experienced it. Even if it hadn’t been intentional, and had lacked almost all of the velocity and control he could manage during quiet contemplation, it was a start.

Focusing his will, Kaius urged his essence to cycle — only for his concentration to break as he narrowly slipped around a thorny vine that erupted from the ground below him.

Gritting his teeth, he abandoned his previous tactic. Force wouldn’t work here — it was too dangerous to split his focus. No, he had to find that state of flow again.

Wholeheartedly devoting himself to battle, he found that meditative state in a torrent of blood. 

His essence shuddered as he grinned maniacally, his cycling threatening to collapse yet again as excitement surged within him. 

Kaius forced himself to breathe. Battle and breath, that’s all there was to it.

Bit by bit, his cycling accelerated as more and more essence pressed into his aspects. They grew denser, harder, until Kaius could feel them quaking from the pressure they held within.

Just a little bit more!

A unified scream erupted from the throats of a thousand beasts.

Kaius jolted, losing the moment.

As one, the Tyrant’s army surged.

Once absent of all semblance of coordination, they struck as a single unit. A coordinated assault. 

Beneath him, he caught sight of the front line charging — racing for Porkchop. Behind them, more than a dozen beasts leapt at once, scrambling for the deck.

Kaius’s eyes widened. He reached for Stormlash. Thunder split the air as smoking corpses fell to the ground. 

More took their place. 

“What the fuck is happening!” Kenva cried as she fired a Shattering Rain to eviscerate three beasts that simultaneously leapt for her.

Kaius grit his teeth, cursing the awkward weight of his prosthetic as he charged along the deck, cutting through beast after beast.

“I don’t know! I started to unconsciously cycle, and I think I was about to break through to the first stage of refinement — they just suddenly went berserk!”

Ianmus snapped off another shot, before he raced back three steps to avoid a beast — Starlit Alacrity leaving a glowing trail across the deck. 

“As if we weren’t having enough trouble already! Ro mentioned that the Tyrant said something about essence…but over such distance?”

Kaius hissed; he couldn’t wait to plant his blade in that bastard creature’s belly. Why in all that was holy had the system decided to make it so volatile to essence! It was one thing to hunt them, but to send an army after Deadacre? 

How was that fair! Rotten roots, after what it had done to Bronwyn and his team he would have set out to hunt it immediately — this siege would only delay their confrontation.

“Ophelia just took off from the wall!” Kenva yelled.

Pivoting to slip past a lunging wolf, Kaius shouldered the creature over the edge of the Pegleg. Porkchop crushed it with a slamming paw before it could scramble to its feet. 

Risking a glance to his left, Kaius saw a rising speck from the city walls. The sight of it caused a surge of relief — at the speed the storm mage could move, she would arrive quickly. 

Then it would all be over. Their charges would be safe, they could store the Pegleg, and flee to the city walls faster than the beasts could follow.

That glimmer died as he turned back to the teaming horde trailing behind them. Far in the distance, further than even Deadacre, one of the many massing clouds of aerial beasts split off.

It was just a fraction — maybe fifty varied insects and birds, but it surged towards them all the same.

No! Not now, they had to be too far away! Why would the Tyrant’s main forces notice them now! Could it really just be essence? It was so little, barely a mote!

Yet the flying creatures approached, and Kaius knew it cut off their hopes for an easy rescue. Alone, without appropriate defenders, any mage was vulnerable. To fly, Ophelia had to devote her entire attention to her spell.

She’d be torn apart, even by beasts half her level.

Kaius looked back towards Deadacre, and saw what he already knew would happen. Ophelia was descending, back behind the wall.

They had to get the survivors to safety themselves.

A/N: My sleepmaxxing arc continues. I discovered at some point in the last 5+ days I turned my alarm off. That explains... a lot

Also, curious about how people are finding this fight. It's sort of the transition point from me going back to typing instead of dictating. I think that made it a little bloated length wise as I got back into the groove (tomorrow is the last chapter of it), but it also feels less wishywashy than some of my dictated sections.

B4 Chapter 487: Plight of the Living, pt. 5

The beasts were tireless. Rabid in their fury, they ignored the slaughter that fell on them, uncaring of the twisted and broken forms of their fellows that were left littering the frontier.

Without a moment to rest, Kaius was in constant motion. No matter how much stronger he was, forcing the creatures back was an endless endeavour — one that stretched his teamwork and cooperation to the limit.

Through that very pressure, he felt a pressure building in his bond skill.

It was a familiar sensation — one that he had experienced multiple times before. The skill was about to break through.

The realisation was stark and sudden enough that it nearly knocked him free of the melding of senses that was pushing his skill higher in the first place. 

Forcing himself to relax, Kaius submerged himself as deep as he could in the bond — feeling Porkchop’s excitement mirror his own. The sharing of their senses was vital to their defence. Automatically, by sheer dint of their familiarity and connection, they had started to avoid paying attention to the same beasts — a move that granted them a more complete picture of the battlefield. 

It was the only way Kaius was able to keep his backline safe. Beasts clambered atop the Pegleg from every angle, forcing him into a state of constant motion. His blade blurred, spraying a constant stream of blood in its wake. 

Constantly circling the deck, those beasts he did not cut down were knocked free. Ianmus and Kenva worked with him, back to back. They trusted in his capability to keep them safe. Focused on one side of their land yacht, they cut down the beasts that were constantly trying to tear into its legs. 

For all their strength; for all their teamwork was a machine of oiled precision, they were not perfect. Their vessel carried more than the blood of their enemies. Dents were strewn across its hull, and more than one of its legs had begun to move just a little stiffer. 

The damage wasn't so severe that their craft was slowed. Not yet, but that moment would come. 

Right as Kaius drove his blade through the forehead of a wolf, he felt a pulse deep within his soul. The familiar ding of a system notification sounded in his mind, and Brotherhood of Ichor and Animus surged, rising with new potency.

Finally, Finally! His last general skill had broken through into the second tier.

The change was immediate — every action, every movement that Kaius made was empowered. While it wasn’t an overwhelming increase, it was broad. 

Broad enough that it took three more kills to pin down the changes. He wasn't enough of a fool to split his focus and read its changed description in the middle of battle. None of his sword arts had changed. Initiate's Glyphic Bladerite empowered his blade's enchantments just as much as it always had. And the Mystic Rend he'd used to cut an insectile monstrosity in half hadn't felt any stronger either. 

No. What he felt was a resonance within one of his general skills. Every ability that enhanced his body directly was just that much more. 

“I think I got the inverse.” Porkchop said, though neither of them had taken a break from their slaughter.

Focusing a hair more of his attention on their melded senses, Kaius could see what he meant. Porkchop’s armour felt tougher, more natural against his frame. Porkchop had taken an unusual direction for a greater beast — the use of armaments. 

His version of their bond skill seemed to have empowered those aspects of his abilities, maybe even his use of artefacts as well.

No doubt there would be more, but understanding the specifics of the change would have to wait until there weren’t two dozen souls relying on them for protection.

It wasn’t the only growth that their constant battle had brought. Most of his skills had increased in level thanks to constant use — even his class had nearly reached the point of his next skill unlock.

Each beast might have been weak, granting only the barest morsel of experience split four ways, but even crumbs could fill someone to bursting if there were enough of them. If they were lucky, they might even reach the point of evolving their next class skills before getting back to Deadacre.

“I see Ophelia!” Kenva cried.

Kaius looked up, towards the direction of Deadacre. He spotted the storm mage immediately. Little more than a dark speck against the sky. Ophelia rocketed towards them, her eyes wide in shock. She took in the teeming horde that had surrounded their landyacht. 

“Ianmus, tell the next group to ready themselves to join us on deck!”

Ianmus nodded, hurrying to the hatch that led below decks. He ripped it open, and Kaius caught a glance of pale faces snapping to the open port with terror-filled eyes. 

“The next group needs to get ready, our storm mage is coming in fast!” Ianmus yelled over the constant roar of beasts. “On our signal, come up on deck as quick as you can — we’ll keep the beasts off!”

Waiting just barely long enough for the gathered survivors to confirm that they’d heard him, Ianmus slammed the door once more. 

Kaius redoubled his efforts — this was going to be rough. He’d done a good enough job keeping the deck of the Pegleg clear of beasts, but that was when he only had to concern himself with keeping his backline safe.

Ianmus and Kenva were strong — strong enough that they could handle themselves if anything slipped past him. More than a dozen fragile villagers was another story — especially when they would be drastically limiting his room to manoeuvre.

“Think its time for a Starfall?” Kaius asked as he dashed along the edge of their landyacht — hurling three beasts that scrambled at its edge down into Porkchop’s waiting arms.

“Not yet! Their numbers are still building — as rough as it might be now, it’ll be worse with the next lot. Save it for then.” Kenva replied, her hands a blur as she released arrow after arrow.

Each and every single one slammed home into skulls, taking a life. 

Kaius looked up — Ophelia was approaching quickly. They had less than a minute to clear some room. He’d have preferred to have more of his second tier spell, but it had been an emergency — he hadn’t exactly had the time to switch out his inscribed spells. Thankfully, Starfall was not the only spell he’d held in reserve. He still had dozens of casts of Stormlash.

Linked as they were, Porkchop came to the same realisation he did — they needed him to pull away the worst of the crush. 

“Porkchop’s going to pull them away — we go all out the second he does!” Kaius called out.

His friends nodded. Ianmus’s keyseal brightened enough that Kaius knew he was ready to cast a Preeminent Halo. The mage wasn’t done, gathering more mana for a solar ray.

“Be safe,” Kaius said silently to his brother through their bond.

“It’ll take more than Steel beasts to get through my armour, no matter how many of them there are.”

That might have been true, but no armour was flawless. If Porkchop wasn’t careful, there was a very real chance that he could be brought to the ground by a simple weight of bodies. Even he would be in grave danger if that happened.

Before he could second guess their plan, a roar resonated from below. Porkchop charged — tearing away from their landyacht. Beasts fell under his paws, bone snapping audibly as his weight and momentum crushed their feeble bodies. 

Spike after spike erupted from the ground around him, spilling blood and fouling footing.

Yet the beasts only ran around him — fully focused on the far more visible target of the Pegleg. 

Right up until Porkchop roared. Again and again he screamed out his Warden’s Challenge, a defiant call that demanded the beasts face him in battle.

Kaius physically saw the skill take hold. The creatures might have been somewhat resistant due to the Tyrant’s influence, but simple might and so many activations of the skill overpowered that. 

A chunk of the horde paused, snapping to Porkchop. With a united, baying cry, they lunged.

He had to act now, before the moment of distraction was lost!

Kaius slammed his blade home into its sheath, digging deep into Drakthar as Porkchop disappeared into a mound of scale and fur. Twin snakes of stormy fury crackled in his grip. Snapping his spells, Kaius targeted the creatures still charging for the deck of the pegleg — not all had fallen under Porkchop’s sway.

Again and again he cast, leaving smoking carcasses in his wake.

“Shattered axles, is Porkchop going to be alright?!” Kenva asked, snapping off a handful of arrows into the mass of beasts. Vines sprouted where they landed — snagging half a dozen creatures each, creating physical barriers that halted the advance of those behind them.

“He’ll be fine!” 

I hope, Kaius added inwardly.

Stony faced and focused as he was, he couldn’t deny the flood of relief he felt as a wall of orichalchum arose in the middle of the dogpile. Half of the beasts trying to pin Porkchop were sent flying with a chorus of yelps, revealing the demonic face of Porkchop’s helm.

Crystal coated one paw. He swiped, cracking bone and clearing himself more space.

More were cleared when an orb of superheated solar might landed nearby. Ianmus’s spell expanded, vapourising all it touched. 

In between casts of his own spells, Kaius snapped his head around. There were no beasts within a dozen strides of the Pegleg — they’d made a window.

A quick check crystalised his nervous hope. Ophelia shot towards the deck, hovering above them as mana surrounded her in pulsating waves. 

“Quick!” the storm mage screamed, nervously eying the beasts that chased their vessel. She was a mage without a backline — one focused on maintaining her flight. She was vulnerable.

Kaius was at the hatch in an instant. He ripped it open, seeing the gathered survivors already waiting on the stairs.

“Go! Go!” he yelled, grabbing each one by the shoulder and shoving them roughly towards Ophelia. 

Every moment this took was another that Porkchop was taking the brunt of their pursuers' fury. It might have been his brother’s role, but it burned all the same.

The terrified villagers stumbled across the deck, and Kaius saw Ophelia's spell take hold. One by one, they lifted into the air — letting out surprised yelps to the last as they windmilled their limbs. 

Securing her last passenger, the storm mage shot off without a word — far more focused on ensuring her charges, and her own, safety. 

Before he closed the hatch, Kaius caught a glimpse of the pale faces of the remaining survivors. A dozen of them — each an old and grizzled fighter, still stained with blood from their initial flight. 

They were scared, to the last. Yet there was fire in them. The fight hadn’t left their spirits, and to Kaius’s surprise, he could see relief. 

“You’re not going to let us die, are you?” a grizzled man in his middle years said, staring at him with something approaching awe.

Fuck. He didn’t know what to do with that.

“No.” 

He slammed the hatch shut. The battle waited.

B4 Chapter 486: Plight of the Living, pt. 4

It only took twenty minutes before the cracks started to show. 

Kaius moved like a whirlwind, surrounded by a heaving carpet of fur, scale and carapace. His hand slipped from his hilt, the burning light of Stormlash surrounding his hand as thunder cracked through the Frontier. 

Three beasts fell smoking; and hundreds more were ready and waiting to take their place. 

The crush fell back in. A Father’s Gift proved the potency that had come with its ascension to Heroic. Kaius cut, cleaving through a beast. He cut again. Then again. Forced to continuously move to keep pace with the Pegleg, he flowed from stance to stance.

A high guard caught a goat-like creature that leapt with its horn lowered. Kaius caught it with the edge of his blade, cutting deep as blood fell like rain. Slamming the creature to the earth, he spun through his hips — transitioning into a wide swipe that cut a devastating path through the legs of the beasts in front of him. 

Their pained screams were silenced as they were trampled by an endless stampede of claws, hooves, and insectile limbs. 

It wasn’t enough, more surged around him — heading straight for the Pegleg. Kaius grit his teeth, redoubling his pace as beast after beast fell. He was swift and strong — nothing required more than two strikes at most to down. There were just so damned many of them.

Even Porkchop was struggling. As large as he was, he could use his simple power and bulk to crush many of the beasts under foot — and bowl them over with continuous uses of his charge skill. Shardwall after Shardwall ripped through the crowd — opening just enough space for the two of them to move. Yet there were always more waiting to fill the gaps.

They couldn’t let the creatures reach the landyacht. It had happened twice already, and both times had almost been disastrous. 

The first time, beasts had leapt onto their landyachts top deck — nearly killing a hunter before Kenva had gutted the creature with her knife. They’d sent the remaining archers below deck after that.

Worse had been the second time. Only five minutes before, when more scattered groups running ahead of the main army had converged on their position. He and Porkchop had been too far from the landyacht — beasts had swept past them with almost casual ease. They might have been strong, but they couldn’t be everywhere.

A rampaging herbivorous creature with a head that was more horn than anything else had charged the landyacht — headbutting one of its legs. Kaius remembered the sickening crack. Even if the limb was only slightly dented, it was a reminder that their vessel was not unbreakable.

Without it, every survivor would die. 

They had to hold on — Ophelia would already be on her way back from Deadacre, ready to ferry another group to safety. One more after that, and their charges would be safe.

He just had to beat the creatures back until then. The knowledge they’d already evacuated half of the survivors spurred him on.

Kaius stared down the teeming mass of beasts that surged towards him. He was alone — with their man power spread thin, Porkchop was needed to defend the other side of the landyacht. Each beast was weak — he could kill them just fine, and his armour was tough enough that any injuries he’d suffered healed quickly.

As long as he didn’t drown in the crush, he’d be fine.

What he needed was speed. His spells worked, but they were limited — needed to strike the beasts in critical moments whenever they broke through his and Porkchop’s defense. 

Largely reliant on his blade, Kaius felt the sting of his specialisation. Blast the gods’, and their insistence that he constantly feel his weakness against hordes. Give him a hundred more levels, and enough mana that he could make the stars fall like rain, and a trifling army like this would matter little.

Alas, he was not Gold — he’d have to rely on his oldest and most faithful companion: his skill with the blade.

As the layered calls of beasts surrounded him, Kaius stoked his Bloodsong. Raising his blade into an aggressive high guard, he kicked forward, charging to meet the approaching horde. Mana burst from his feet as he cast Slip Step. He didn’t care that it might help him avoid a blow or two, what he needed now was speed. 

It had been nearly two hundred levels since he had first gained Aelina; every spell cast from the glyph was nigh-unrecognisable in its potency. Kaius flashed across the battle line like a ghost, the world warping as he dipped into the strange spatial dimension his spell used to fuel his movement. Space contracted, and he cleaved horizontally. 

Rabid snarls turned to screams of agony as A Father’s Gift spilt the blood of dozens. It wasn’t enough. More beasts surged, every fallen replaced by another.

His dash had taken him far from the Pegleg, and the horde raced in — uncaring of the losses as Ianmus and Kenva tore into their ranks with arrow and spell. 

One of Kenva’s arrows shattered into a hail of deadly shrapnel, breaking the charge. Atop Ianmus’s staff, his Keyseal of the Rising Dawn pulsed. An overwhelming burst of mana rippled outwards, heralding the arrival of a Preeminent Halo.

The second tier spell shot into the massed beasts — incinerating them in a blink. 

Kaius capitalised on the opportunity, dashing back into the gap. More beasts fell in his wake. They just didn’t bloody stop. He grit his teeth, frustration building as beasts slipped past him — throwing themselves at the armoured landyacht.

Most were cut down before they made it, but not all. Dents lined its sides, and blood washed its deck as the Tyrant’s army desperately tried to reach the mage and archer that stood atop it.

It wasn’t just him. Porkchop was struggling too. 

Even with his focus on his own battle, Kaius could feel his brother’s building frustration as he struggled to hold back the rising tide. Even with his Warden’s Challenge, there were simply so damn many of the beasts that Porkchop couldn’t affect all of them with his skill.

“This isn’t working,” Kaius said, leaping high to amputate the front legs of a stag that bounded for the Pegleg. 

He scowled — he’d been aiming to take off its head. Damned prosthetic kept throwing him off. 

To his right, he heard a bellowing roar full of an anger untainted by the madness that had infected the Tyrant’s forces. The beasts’ battleline collapsed as a titan of orichalcum charged into their midst — waves of point spikes erupting from the ground to savage the soft bellies of Porkchop’s foes.

“I know. We need better cohesion — we’re barely keeping them off us,” Porkchop replied.

Kaius didn’t bother to reply, flowing from stance to stance as he hacked at every beast available. 

A jaw closed around his elbow, yanking him to the side. Kaius stumbled — his prosthetic not giving him enough feedback to correct in time. Some sort of bear — its jaw coated in jagged spikes of stone. Empowered or not, it struggled with his armour.

Growling, Kaius rolled with the motion and ripped his arm free. Stone teeth squealed against metal. A Hateful Nail ripped through the creature's head.

Porkchop was right — they weren’t fighting to their strengths. Their ability to fight with unparalleled coordination was their greatest advantage, especially against a force as maddened as this. 

Kaius threw himself deep into the clutches of his bond, senses blurring until it was hard to tell who saw what. In an instant, he saw himself towering over the battlefield, surrounded by a carpet of lesser creatures.

Through Porkchop’s eyes, he gained the perspective he needed. For all the numbers of their current opponents were oppressive, it was going to get worse. They were fighting a war band — but creatures were streaming towards them from every direction. 

The beasts running ahead of the army might have been spread out over leagues, but there were still thousands. 

It made it clear the only reason there were survivors at all was because the creatures had been toying with them.

Kaius made the call immediately. They were never going to stop the beasts from reaching the pegleg. Their only hope was to give some ground, and focus their efforts on defending its legs. 

Entrenched so deeply in the connection that bound their souls, Kaius didn’t need to explain his judgement to Porkchop.

They simply moved as one. 

Mana flooded Kaius’s sword as a screaming wire of arcane energy coated its edge. Mystic’s Rend detonated again and again as he moved like a dervish — blowing through the enemy ranks to make momentary room. Four Stormlashes followed, arcing lightning downing a dozen more beasts.

Porkchop acted similarly — swelling with the power of Gladespirit as he sent the shattered bodies of monsters flying through the air. 

“Get ready! I’m joining you on deck,” he called up to his back line.

Their response came in the form of a sudden explosion of might. Kenva fired Shattering Rain  again and again — further weakening the forces that he and Porkchop had scattered. Into that confusion, Ianmus released lance after lance. Boiling solar fury punched through the beasts, crippling multiple with each spell. 

For a moment, the battlefield hung still — then he and Porkchop moved in unison. 

Kaius kicked off the ground, sailing through the air to touch down on the blood-slickened deck of the Pegleg. On the ground, Porkchop surged between the landyacht’s legs — securing himself as an anchor beneath its hull. 

It was a tight fit. There was no way that he’d be able to rear up, but it positioned him perfectly to defend the landyacht’s more delicate spider limbs than anywhere else.

With their blitz finished, their brief reprieve from the constant slaughter ended. 

Kaius positioned himself at the edge of the Pegleg’s deck — ready to defend both his backline and the landyacht itself.

The teeming horde raced in. 

Far from the frontlines of the battle, Kaius spied movement. A jumping spider. His eyes narrowed as the arachnid shot into the air. A Moment of Flow cut an arcing line through its trajectory.

He had but a bare moment before it would land behind Ianmus.

Kicking off the deck, he met the beast mid air — slicing it in two with a quick slash.

Ichor fell in a wave, coating the deck. It was only the beginning. Having given up on preventing the beasts from reaching their landyacht, more and more creatures clambered up the sides. 

Visible as they were, Kaius, Ianmus, and Kenva may as well have covered themselves in bait. 

Forced into constant action, he worked with his team to beat back the boarders. In minutes, the steely hull of the Pegleg was painted with a new coat of bright carmine as entrails and bodies tumbled from its edge.

Below them, Porkchop was a ball of fury, smashing away any beasts that attempted to batter their landyacht’s legs. 

He couldn’t be everywhere; Kaius was forced to help frequently, venting precious spells as the creatures did their best to tear into ancient imperial steel.

It was a restless endeavour of constant slaughter, but they were holding. For now.

It would have to be enough. Ophelia would rejoin them soon, and more survivors would make their way to safety.

He could hear their panicked screams every time a beast slammed into the side of the landyacht. They were terrified. 

Kaius grit his teeth. He wouldn’t let them die.

A/N: Guess who left their phone by their computer and didn't have an alarm to wake them up lmao

B4 Chapter 485: Plight of the living, pt. 3

The second Kaius had rejoined the front line, he was looking for his next target. 

Only a handful remained of the two dozen or so beasts that had been harassing the villagers. Two wolf-like creatures kept a loping gate as they sprinted through the long grass — circling wide in an attempt to strike at their unwatched flank.

It wouldn’t work, he and his team were simply too strong.

Three more beasts worked themselves into a rabid fury straight ahead of him and Porkchop. It was an unnatural pairing — another bullish creature more than happy to stand side by side with two furred lizards as large as a horse.

A deep twang thumped as Kenva loosed an arrow. One of the lizards was suddenly silenced, blood and pulped brain erupting from a new hole in its forehead.

“Nice shot!” Ianmus called 

“What can I say?” Kenva replied, before switching her attention back to Kaius. “You two ready for us to fall back?”

Kaius nodded. Their plan was simple: Keep the villagers safe, keep the Pegleg from getting overwhelmed, and never stop moving in the direction of Deadacre. 

There was no point in Kenva and Ianmus staying on the ground. The Pegleg was swift, and atop its decks they would be far better situated to protect the archers. Even now they readied themselves to fire at beasts far stronger than them. 

Plus, his back line would be far more effective from an elevated position, with their targets unobscured by long grass and the scattering of bushes and trees.

His team was strong, strong enough that creatures that had barely broken a hundred levels were of no threat. Not with numbers as low as only a few dozen. 

That ease would fade. Kaius could see motion across the Frontier: beasts drawn by the howls of their battle, smelling strong foes on the wind. 

While the surviving villages had managed to stay ahead of the densest concentrations of the tyrant's horde, the beast army was an unregimented thing. Within only a few leagues of their position, there were thousands of beasts. The longer they fought, the more would come. 

At least, for now, they would be unharassed by fliers. For reasons unknown to him, they stayed tightly corralled, hurtling through the air in teeming flocks above the meat of the tyrant's army that was still hours away. 

Two beasts charged. Bovine and an unnaturally-thin lizard. 

They barely made it ten steps before their legs crumpled as new blood spilled on the frontier. It only took a single spell and a single arrow. 

An itch dug deep into Kaius’ soul. It would have been so easy. A simple flicker of will was all it would have taken to drop one of the teaming horde with a nail. He forced himself to leave it to his back line. 

For all their strength, he knew that he would have to pace himself, since extended battles were far from his specialty. He could feel the lingering exhaustion and dread that had found him in the boggart warrens over half a year ago. The swarm had taught him a valuable lesson: strength and certainty of might only mattered if he could maintain it until the battle was done. 

It would this time.

His spells had been carefully tuned for the coming engagement during their flight. Heavy on Stormlash and Hateful Nail — the former more than the latter — both were more than potent enough to eliminate a beast instantly. 

He'd avoided his Eirnith spells  — as well as Starfall. The beasts were so weak and numerous that the single target Compel Obsession was pointless, and both Starfall and  Zone of Discombobulation had one annoying factor that hampered their use: once set, the area they covered was static. 

As they were moving as fast as the Pegleg could manage, it would be far harder to ensure it hit its intended targets.

He still had a single charge, in case they needed to clear the field — but no more. It was far too expensive to justify.

The two canids were unshaken by the death of their only remaining allies. The beasts raced in, claws digging into the soft soil as their maws hung open. They were smart — choosing a moment to attack from the side when Kaius and Porkchop were focused on the ‘threats’ directly in front.

Each foot fall may as well have been a thunderclap for how easily he could hear them.

One of the hunters atop the Pegleg let out a yell. Shaky arrows loosed — each going wide. The wolfish creatures were fast. They weren’t playing with their food any more, keeping a pace that would have been little more than a blur to the archers and hunters.

Kaius shifted, a casual move as if he were surprised by the sudden noise. He brought his blade high.

“Ready to make them bleed?” Porkchop asked.

The beasts pounced.

Porkchop lunged to his left. One paw caught a leaping canine, his claws digging into its chest as the creature let out a wet and ragged gasp. 

Kaius kicked off with his good leg — suddenly racing towards his target. It hadn’t leapt — charging straight through the long grass. He could see its eyes. They were wide and bright, filled with a maddened hunger and fury that bound it tighter than physical chains.

He brought his blade down right as it lunged for his throat. Honed crystal parted flesh and bone with equal ease. Its head fell free. 

*Ding! You have slain Terrormaw Wolf - Level 114 Savage Pursuer!*

*Experience Gained! Reduced Experience for slaying a foe of significantly lower level!*

Momentum carried the carcass forward. As it slammed into his chest, Kaius grunted as his footing slipped slightly.

Bloody prosthetic! He’d wanted to dip to the left, but he’d misjudged the timing. Now he had blood soaking through his scalemail. No matter: it was a familiar discomfort.

With the last of the initial wave, Kaius ran — his brother at his side as they kept pace with the Pegleg tearing its way back to Deadacre.

The hunters atop its deck looked down at him in naked shock, disbelief and burning hope warring on their faces. Kaius shot them an easy grin.

In all honesty, they didn’t need their assistance. While the villagers had survived, it was only because the Tyrant’s forces had been toying with them — a basal cruelty like a cat batting at a captured bird. The hunters themselves — whether those with spears below, or those who could use a bow up on deck — were weak.

Even with Kenva’s arrows, they would barely serve as a distraction against beasts more than double their level.

The calculus of having them ‘help’ was simple — they needed the survivors to not panic. Giving even some of them something to do helped with that. His back line would make sure they went below decks when things got truly dangerous.

Besides, they needed this. Kaius remembered what they had looked like when he first arrived. Bone deep despair; the certainty of their deaths only beaten back by the sheer undeniable urge to just keep running. To be beaten so thoroughly…it left its mark. 

Venting some of that desperate energy, and giving them a way to turn some of that terror into righteous anger, would help. 

Besides, with how weak they were, every shot that landed would lead to levels for the group. Every iota of strength that the survivors could scrounge up now was something that could help them survive the storm that rushed towards Deadacre.

Kaius turned his focus back to their surroundings, running hard as he kept pace next to the landyacht.  Ianmus and Kenva were on the lookout, but it would have been pure folly to leave everything to them.  

The death of this group was only the start. Beasts were everywhere.

Howls split across the plains, the calls of dozens of different species melding into a single conglomerate of gnashing teeth and rabid promises of death and blood.

“How many, and where?” Porkchop asked, his ears twitching at the sound of so many incoming threats.

Atop the Pegleg, Kenva frowned, her gaze sweeping across the horizon.

“I can’t see any reaction from the main force, and we’ve got enough of a lead that there’s no way they will catch up before we reach Deadacre — even if Ophelia can't fetch all of us before that happens.”

Most of the hunters slumped in visible relief, each and every one hanging off the rangers word.

The sight of it made Kaius frown — even with Porkchop’s natural telepathy, they really needed some way to communicate privately as a team. Hopefully they could find a solution before they were split up for the siege.

“But?” Kaius asked.

Kenva hesitated, quickly glancing at the hunters behind her.

“There’s still thousands heading our way. It’ll be fits and spurts at first, but we’ll still have our work cut out for us. It’s going to be a meat grinder.”

One of the hunters paled, the bow he held in hand visible shaking under the force of his grip.

“Nothing we can't handle, of course — but we’ll get little rest,” she quickly added, before she turned to address the rest. “Remember, you can go below decks at any time — we’re enough by ourselves, even without additional eyes watching.”

The man shook his head — determined, even if he was still pale. “No — I'll stay until you say it's too dangerous.”

Kenva gave the man a short nod, before her attention flicked back to their surroundings.

“Two groups to our left should reach us in the next minute, maybe two. About the same numbers as what we just faced — or it will be after I've whittled them down.” The ranger said, smoothly drawing an arrow to her chin before she loosed. 

Packed with mana, Kaius watched it sail over his head — before he heard a crack as it detonated into a shower of deadly splinters far off in the distance. Pained yelps carried in on the wind — her Shattering Rain had left a few survivors.

“We’ve got another group coming from our right,” Ianmus added — solar mana flashing as he unleashed a beam from his keyseal, scouring the group. He frowned a moment later, “They’re tough — nearly as big as Porkchop and stone aligned. They’ve got natural armour.”

Trusting his backline to call out as their enemies drew close enough to fight, Kaius focused on his breathing. While the Pegleg was slower than his full sprint, the landyacht was a tireless machine unreliant on the supporting effects of stamina. It took a little focus, but he could maintain an odd, loping run that reduced his stamina drain to the point his regeneration covered the cost completely.

That would, of course, completely go out the window as soon as he was in battle. Maintaining a fighting retreat was new to him — it wasn’t often he had to fight and run away. No doubt he would discover plenty of new and frustrating lessons to learn.

He’d just barely gotten the hang of adjusting his pace when the howls of approaching beasts grew loud.

“They’re here!” Kenva called, losing an arrow as the hunters behind her fired a salvo.

Kaius looked over his shoulder to see more baying beasts charging forward.

Grinning, he spun on his heel and lunged towards them. Hopefully he could mop them up quickly before more arrived.

B4 Chapter 484: Plight of the Living, pt. 2

A/N: Minor schedule update: gonna push chapters back by 1 hour to 10:30am NZT in service of trying to sleep more.

Also soz for the late chapter, some mates from aus are staying for a few days and we were up late catching up

An arrow descended like the heavens themselves rebuked the beasts. Heralded by a thunderclap, Kaius watched it tear across the sky with an ashen taste in his mouth.

Moments later, one of the wolf-like creatures disintegrated into a fountain of blood and meat chunks. It was simply no longer there — weak in comparison to them. Kenva’s Howl of the North Wind had vaporised it.

The start of their assault had still taken too long. Another of the survivors had fallen.

Kaius was certain there was malevolence behind the creatures’ intent. While only a handful immediately pursued the survivors, others watched and waited, happy to take their time as those closest picked away at the flagging defenders, inflaming their terror. It was cruelty, plain and simple. A raking claw here, cutting an arm to the bone. A snagging fang there, slicing through boots, just enough to send a villager stumbling — long enough to make them think they might not make it.

This was no fight over territory, nor a hunt driven by basal needs.

It was torture.

And the sight of it made Kaius furious.

This was unnatural.

As the survivors registered the sudden crack of Kenva’s assault, Kaius watched them scramble — a burst of speed driving them forward at the sound and spray of blood.

Their unified scream came seconds later, carried on distant winds.

Another arrow shot down; another wolf detonated.

The remaining beasts scattered, feral howls filling the air as primal instinct sensed the presence of a true predator. Good. It would buy them time. They were still a minute or two off from landing. They had to keep the beasts on the back foot. With the tyrant’s control granting the creatures tactical insight, it would be all too easy for them to realise just how much devastation they could wreak on the survivors in that time.

This time, one of the hunters at the edge of the group saw them. The man thrust his hand high, screaming in their direction. The others swept their eyes up, full of desperate, heart-wrenching hope. Kaius tightened his grip on A Father’s Gift. He would not fail them — not in the final hour.

“Drop us down behind them!” Kaius screamed. “Porkchop’s going to terrify them!”

Ophelia just nodded, too focused on her casting to respond.

As for who the mage would take with her on her return trip, it had already been decided: the weakest, the most injured, and the children. She could take fourteen with her — most, but not all, of the flagging villagers who lacked combat-capable classes.

Kaius kept his eyes peeled for flying beasts. They were present — leagues behind, held within the main line of the army. Entire flocks of birds, bats, and insectile creatures buzzed in living clouds. They were more tightly corralled than the outliers and outriders, and none had been sent to harass those fleeing.

A small mercy. They would be lethal once Ophelia flew away.

Drifting downward, they approached the survivors. They were still — twenty strides above the ground and a full fifty ahead of the group racing toward them. Kaius felt the grip of Ophelia’s magic slacken against his body.

“Dropping!” the mage yelled.

A moment later, gravity’s avaricious hold found him once more. Momentum alone kept him moving. Kaius grit his teeth, bracing himself. He could have broken his fall with a shunt, but it would have been a waste. He was strong enough.

Hitting the ground hard, he bent his knees, staggering forward as the lack of feedback from his prosthetic led to the metal limb digging a little too deep into the packed soil of the plains.

His team landed around him. Porkchop summoned his armour mid-air, slamming down like a battering ram as dust plumed and the ground cratered beneath him. Spells and arrows flew, skewering beasts that still lurked behind brush and long grass. Pained squeals rang out, silenced moments later by follow-up shots.

Yet the creatures were many, and they were few. Sensing the sudden arrival of true resistance, the rabid monsters surged together, gathering into a war party that charged toward them.

Porkchop would have none of it.

Kaius felt his brother’s certainty — none would pass.

A warden’s challenge filled the air, rattling Kaius to his bones as his brother’s demonic visage faced down the approaching beasts. Their frenzy only peaked.

Dozens of creatures that had surpassed the hundredth level — each a town-ending threat in the old world — surged forward toward a titan of orichalcum.

As a Shardwall raced forth, and arrows and spells cut down the approaching monsters, Kaius left his team to their tasks.

He had to get the survivors onto the landyacht, or they were all doomed. Already he could spy more beasts approaching. No longer faced with the defenceless, their previous cruel harassment vanished — now they came in for the kill, converging on their position.

A shunt burst behind him, throwing him over the heads of the fleeing survivors.

“Delvers, gods be praised!” one screamed.

Their plea was joined by fresh squeals of terror as Ophelia’s spell wrapped around a chunk of the party. Unaware of the plan, desperate allies clung to those who rose into the sky, trying frantically to pull them back down.

“Release them!” Kaius roared. “Ophelia is a storm mage. She ferries the vulnerable to Deadacre!”

“What of the rest of us?” someone yelled in hoarse terror. “Are we to be left to die?”

Kaius flicked his will to the chained orb at his waist.

The Pegleg was summoned a moment later — a mechanical spider as large as a barge. As it appeared, a wave of compressed air rolled over Kaius, ruffling his hair. Responding to his will, the landyacht surged forward, though slower than the survivors ran.

Kaius knew intuitively that it could move much, much faster. For now, this would do — he needed to get people aboard.

The Pegleg’s door slid open. A set of stairs unfolded, a handspan above the frontier.

As soon as the stunned survivors registered the sudden appearance of the landyacht, Kaius willed it to slow to a steady halt.

“Onto the landyacht!” he yelled. “Any with a bow — go to the upper deck and assist us how you can!”

Before he kicked off, a snapping surge of physical strength carried him upward. He leapt straight onto the armoured upper deck of the landyacht, depositing a barrel full of arrows that Kenva had sung from the governor’s tree. Their potency would help even a weak hunter pierce steel-beast defences.

The survivors stared at him like he was mad, almost unable to comprehend the sudden change.

“Go!” he yelled. “We have no time for ogling!”

With some giving final, desperate looks to those who rose into the sky, they surged forward, clambering into the side of the vehicle.

Moments later, Kaius was joined by twelve men. To the last, their faces were dirtied and bloodstained, thick leathers cut to bare ribbons, sweat and tears streaking down their faces.

An elderly man — the strongest of the lot — stepped forward, holding a longbow in a white-knuckled grip.

“W-what would you have us do?”

Kaius did not blame him for his fear. They had lived through a nightmare by the skin of their teeth. None of them were warriors — he’d seen men of their like everywhere, by the sea. Simple hunters, pursuing gain from beasts far weaker than them, for survival, coin, and nourishment — not for strength, nor for the fight.

He locked eyes with the man.

“You are safe now. You hear me? We are Silver, and this is a fighting retreat. Ophelia will be back to ferry you in groups. It will take several trips. We may reach the city before she is done — but you will survive. All I ask is that you shoot what you can and call out threats we may have missed. If it becomes too dangerous, go below decks. The landyacht is armoured.”

Each of the twelve men nearly crumpled when they heard that they were Silver. Their middle-aged leader gave him a shaky nod. He reached into the barrel, grabbing one of the arrows, his eyes widening as he no doubt identified it.

“We can help, my lord.”

“Good. You’re all strong men to have made it this far — but we’ll take it from here.”

Sensing that the last survivor had boarded, Kaius willed the hatch closed.

The Pegleg charged forward, building speed. It moved smoothly, ripping across the frontier as fast as a charging horse, without bob or sway.

Kaius looked up to see Ophelia shooting into the distance, her charges clustered around her.

Trusting the hunters atop the Pegleg’s deck to do as he’d asked, he launched himself free without another word.

Hitting the ground, he charged back toward his team, blade held ready. At full tilt on soft terrain, he was relieved to feel only minimal resistance from his prosthetic — he would be hampered, but not enough to matter against Steel-level beasts.

Dust clouded the horizon. Dozens upon dozens of beasts were approaching. He and his team would be fine — they were strong enough to flee. But if they were overwhelmed, if the creatures caught the Pegleg, the remaining survivors would be torn to shreds.

He couldn’t let that happen.

Kaius detonated another shunt, a war cry on his lips. Scanning the closest beasts, he caught sight of one circling, attempting to flank. It was a strange creature — bovine, with jutting tusks and a single curved horn on its forehead.

Thrusting one hand out, he reached for Drak’thar — for the long-range potency of his hateful nail.

It roared forth an instant later.

Twisted steel punched through a neck thicker than his chest. His spell unfurled, ripping the beast’s head clean off in a detonation of blood and gristle.

Kaius touched down next to Porkchop, ready for battle.

Covers!

B1 and B2 covers fully done, woop woop! Just need to finalise my title for B3. I've been thinking about 'Crucible', since even with rewrites it will be a core defining feature of the book, but it also feels a little spoilery. 'Trials of Rebirth' works, but doesn't feel quite right. Give me your thoughts!

B4 Chapter 483: Plight of the Living, pt. 1

Afternoon sun streamed into the siege tower that had been erected near the eastern gate. Even with the pleasant warmth and the view of the frontier, it was hard to enjoy the peace when Kaius felt like an alchemist had set up shop in his bones. He had far too much energy, and nothing to do with it.

Afterall, there were only so many times he could run drills to get used to his prosthetic. He was long past the point he felt like tearing the thing off and hurling it back into the dark pit from whence it came.

Atop that golden spire, his team rested with him in an uneasy silence.

The beasts were close — the ultimate battle for the city at hand. Scrying and scouts had confirmed it: a slow-moving wave that crashed its way across the frontier. They had a day, maybe two, before it arrived.

He couldn’t help but think of the Frontier communities that had been in its path. Dozens of villages, hamlets, and even a few small townships. Thousands of souls.

There had been refugees early, as the warning had gone out. They’d been few in number — and had come bearing stories of men patrolling walls and families barring their doors, certain that their defences would be enough to weather the storm. He could only hope that some of them had survived.

It was a thin hope. No scout was suicidal enough to get close to the horde. And while the army itself was easy to track, any fleeing survivors would be lost in all the chaos.

At least the mages had finished with the city’s defences. The tower he now shared with his team was close to the eastern wall and the Delver’s Guild. It had been a miracle to watch. Dragon’s teeth encircled the city, and a deep trench had been cut beneath the walls. Every city gate had been sealed off with strides of stone. They were less reinforced than the quality construction of proper walls built by masons and supported by enchantment, but still an additional defence.

“What do we do if the city falls?” Kenva said quietly. “If the Tyrant proves too strong?”

“It won’t,” Kaius replied.

Kenva shook her head. “We still have to consider it. I am confident too, and clearly none of us fear the risks of battle. But not even we can take on an army alone. We should be certain before the battle comes.”

An unpleasant topic, but Kaius knew in his gut that she was right. He let out a slow breath, adjusting his leg as his prosthetic began to tug uncomfortably.

“Clearly, we shouldn’t sacrifice ourselves for nothing. Risking it all in a battle against the Tyrant is one thing, but if we are truly routed, it is pointless to throw ourselves into an army.”

“We should fall back to Dawntown if that does happen. With our landyacht, we could save at least a few. Dawntown would likely be a harder target for the beasts to find than Mystral. We can help defend them from any strays.”

Kaius hissed — he hadn’t even thought of Dawntown. The Tyrant’s army had kept a consistent western heading, so further to the north as it was, Dawntown had a degree of safety. Still, that was one place he refused to leave to defend itself.

Dozens of bells started to ring through the city. Two beats, then one, then one. Each peal rocked him like an ogre’s club. Any thought of further discussion died in his throat. The pattern was unmistakable: a warning cry. An emergency. A call for the most powerful in the city to gather at the guild.

Something had happened.

Kaius was on his feet in moments. The tension he felt within his bones wound even tighter — ready to explode now that he could finally act.

….

All but ramming the door, Kaius burst into the guildhall back office that the attendant had directed him to. It cracked into the wall, drawing the eyes of Arc and the Mystral mages.

Neither Ro nor Rieker looked up, focused instead on a map laid out over a table.

“Good, you’re here,” Ro said. “We have a problem.”

“That much is obvious — what happened?” Porkchop asked, filing into the room behind Kaius as they clustered around the table.

Ro tapped a red sweeping line that cut through the frontier, just a day out from the city walls. “The beasts. They’re close enough that our far-scouts are getting a better picture of their numbers. They found something else.”

She tapped a red X, just a fingerwidth ahead of the army. “Survivors.”

It fell like a knife. Kaius stared at the mark on the map, his mouth growing dry.

“Fuck.”

Those poor bastards. Running for their lives — the nearest villages were at least a day further still from the city. Kaius couldn’t even imagine the fear, the exhaustion…

“How many?” Kenva whispered.

Rieker sighed. It was a heavy sound — one of resignation. Kaius didn’t even need to hear his response. No matter the number, it wasn’t high enough.

“Fifty-seven. Two-thirds are combat capable; it’s the only reason they’re still alive. The beasts aren’t moving in formation, and they have no set battle lines. Plenty are ranging far ahead — they’re beset on all sides.”

“The other third?” the life mage, Madrigal, asked — her face pale.

When Rieker winced, Ro answered for him. She was clipped, professional, despite the horror she described.

“Non-combatants. Mostly adults, though a few are carrying children. No unclassed over the age of ten.”

Kaius felt the picture she painted like it had been branded on him. No unclassed. They were too slow — of course they’d fallen. Even if their parents had tried to carry them, the weight alone would have slowed them too. These were farmers. Common labourers. Common classes, with fifty levels at most.

They would have been little but slow-moving cattle to the beasts.

His heart slammed in his chest. Every second they spent could easily be another life.

“We have to rescue them!” he yelled, hand gripping A Father’s Gift. There was no way he could sit by while innocents that close ran for their lives.

“Obviously. We are here to discuss how,” Rieker replied. “Most of us must stay — the Golds especially. The beasts are too close to risk the core of our fighting force, no matter the reason.”

Kaius clenched his teeth, but he saw the burning frustration in the Guildmaster’s eyes. It was plain that there was nothing Rieker would like more than to charge out of the city and rain down hellfire on the approaching army.

“I can deliver a strike team within the hour, but without the support of my fellow mages, there is no way I will be able to extract fifty people,” Ophelia suggested, her mouth stretched into a thin line.

Around the table, Ark let out a low rumble. “It pains this one to admit, but it would be unwise to bring them. Honour is a bitter thing, but to leave the city undefended would be folly, and your storm mages are too critical to defend against aerial beasts.”

Fuck. There was no easy solution. They needed some way to get those survivors into the city. He and his team were strong, but there was no way they would be able to fight off the vanguard of an army and keep people alive — not for long enough.

He knew what they had to do. The landyacht was their only hope. Though it was only built for a small retinue, plenty could fit inside and on its top deck if they were packed like sardines.

“We’ll have to put the Pegleg through its paces. Warn the others? No way we’re keeping the landyacht secret after this,” he said to Porkchop quietly through their bond.

“Good idea.”

Ianmus and Kenva’s barely audible sighs of relief quelled his nerves — they had his back.

“We’ll do it. We have a landyacht.”

As most of the room stared at him in shock, Rieker and Ro only gave him approving nods. A heartbeat later, Madra scoffed.

“Of course you do. Poor bastards might actually get to see tomorrow.”

Kaius ignored the man. “It’s small and has no weapons, but we should be able to cram most of the survivors. If me and my team defend it in a fighting retreat, could you make enough trips to pull them out, Ophelia?”

The storm mage hesitated. “I’ll need three trips — it’ll be close. You might make it back to the wall by then.”

Kaius let out a slow breath. It would have to do. His team was ready to depart immediately — with the siege looming, they’d taken to staying battle-ready at all times, armour and all.

“Let’s go. No point wasting time.”

…

Wind howled like a banshee as Kaius’s hair flowed behind him in streamers. Surrounded by supportive magic, he shot above the frontier like a racing arrow, pointed at a monster’s heart. By the gods’ graces, he should have been excited. It was every boy’s dream: flight. It was the domain of only the truly powerful. From ancient stories, he knew that supposedly all eventually gained it in some capacity, but even for a second-tier it was a vanishingly rare thing — only a specialised storm mage like Ophelia could dream to grasp it so early.

Yet despite their defiance of the decree that man was a creature of the land, Kaius could only grip his blade and hope that their journey would be over soon. Every second, every minute was another that those few survivors ran in terror — another that defenceless children might be lost.

There had been fifty-seven when they left. How many would be left when they arrived? Fifty? Fifteen?

His entire team was ready for immediate battle — weapons ready, down to the keyseal that burned around Ianmus’s staff. The only reason Porkchop hadn’t summoned his armour was to cut down on the weight that Ophelia had to carry.

“I see them!” Kenva screamed, pointing to a spot ahead and to their left.

Ophelia adjusted her course immediately, the mage’s brow sweating as her mana surged even higher.

Focusing, Kaius surveyed the frontier with the clarity of Truesight. He spotted them quickly: a desperate band, ragged and bloody. Thirty-odd fighters clustered around men and women in workers’ clothes. As they ran for their lives, beasts hounded them. Only two for now — wolf-like creatures. They kept an easy loping pace, steadily testing the defenders as they beat them back with wild spear thrusts.

Kaius grit his teeth, looking further afield. There he saw the army stretching across the horizon: a ragged tide of teeming movement.

The Tyrant’s army was a loose thing without ordered formation. If he didn’t know better; it would almost be impossible to tell if the creatures moved with unity of purpose. Perhaps it could be mistaken for a simple, unlikely density of creatures — if not for there being a little too many, and the fact that they all moved in the same direction, towards Deadacre.

Kaius switched his attention back to the survivors just in time to watch an unseen feline beast pounce out of thick brush. The people scattered. One was too slow. Kaius watched with impotent rage as they went down, the creature closing around their throat.

The others kept running, each and every one with naked terror on their faces. The creatures were toying with them.

“Fuck! Kenva, Ianmus — can you make the shot?!”

The ranger shook her head, jaw clenched in frustration. “Too far! I need a minute, maybe two!”

“Kenva will be in range before I finish channelling, and I’ll burn too much of my pool keeping a beam lethal from this far away!” Ianmus added.

Kaius could only grip his blade a little tighter, stoking the coal of anger that was inflaming his rising bloodsong.

A/N: One day i'm gonna use the fact that I always forget to do the ',Finale' title to do an epic fake out, but today is not that day

(Not a chapter) 2025 Retrospective

What a year! My first rotation around the sun as a full time writer, and it was a pretty good one! A few bumps along the road, but I think a few teething pains are to be expected.

First, my break. It was good, and very much needed. I spent time with friends and family, played a good bit of Arc Raiders and Barotrauma over the last week, and read roughly half of Lord of the Mysteries (like 5k pages, wheew!). I’m feeling refreshed, and eager to get stuck into some writing. I did a full disconnect — no work, other than the couple of times I edited and queued a few chapters. 

Over the course of the year I’d let writing consume a little too much of everything possible. Effectively, I was either writing, thinking about what to write, editing, or procrastinating those three tasks. That was… silly, and it did have some negative outcomes on the task itself, which is a little self defeating.

Writing doesn’t happen in a vacuum (goes for all creative endeavours really). Get too little sleep, and your cognition goes kaput, which makes the words gluggy and slow. Spend too much time thinking and engaging in a single thing, and you start to miss the forest for the trees and pacing can get weird (crucible…). Even just the basic fact of not spending the time to enjoy reading the genre I write in is detrimental  —  it means a lack of interesting ideas, settings and systems to inspire me.

Stress is the killer though, as it can create an unconscious aversion. That, plainly, makes everything above worse.

I think the biggest challenge of the year was just… fucking around. I’ve always struggled to work a normal 9-5, and tend to leave things to the last minute (thanks adhd), and this job has been a mixed blessing. I can do it whenever, but on the other hand, I can do it whenever. It led to a slow tendency to start writing later and later, until I’d spend most of the day doomscrolling or playing games while constantly on edge about putting off work, which then led to stressed out writing between the hours of 4-11+pm.

Stressed out writing is rushed writing, and it also meant I got to spend less time with my partner than I would like. Plus, late nights lead to staying up late to spend time with my partner. That meant I normalised 2am+ bed time, with waking up at 8ish. I cannot. My brain was the consistency of mashed potatoes for like 4 months. Adhd meds only mask fatigue. You feel alert, but the sleep debt is still effectively lobotomising you. (Thanks, psych degree. Laying awake at night stressing about the health impacts of sleep is my second favourite gift of yours, behind only stressing about the health impacts of stress.)

I attempted to give dictating a go, but despite the nominal increases in output, all it really did was make it easier for me to go ‘oh I can bang that out in x time’ and leave it till later. Plus, I would always discount the massive increase in editing time. Silly, considering it's my least favourite part of writing (dev edits/rewrites are fun, but proof reading something I already know like the back of my hand leaves me clawing at the walls).

I think dictating, in general, is a useful tool, and I don't regret giving it a full 4-5 month crack. I Definitely know heaps more about how to use it now. That said, for me personally, it is really only useful in those flow moments where the words are racing to get out and I’m bottle necked by my janky two finger touch typing (using my left ring finger of all things. Thanks median nerve damage). Outside of those, it enables a little too much waffling, makes blocking action scenes way harder, and makes my writing a little too…loose for lack of a better phrase.

For context, everything I wrote with dictation is from roughly the second trial of the crucible, through to a week or two ahead of where Patreon is now. Not terrible writing on the overall, and that chunk even has like 2-3 of my favourite moments in the series, but it's…loose. Sloppy. A little languid, even.

That said, on the overall, I feel good about last year. I got approx 3.x books written, which i’m genuinely proud of, especially considering the shortest of them is 330k words. That's like 1m words! I’ve learnt a lot about writing, and managing myself (turns out I am much more functional with TurkeyBlocker removing my ability to do anything fun on my computer during work hours lol).

Plus, my favourite achievement, I am this close to finishing my outlined plans for B2! (I’m not kidding, the entirety of B2+B3+B4 was a 2 page outline for a three act structure of b2. Idk how I thought that would work when it took me 330k words to do a bloody dungeon start opening. I blame reading Martial God Asura at a pivotal age.)

I think, overall (and aside from a few bumps along the way), the story is in a healthy state. I’m still trying to find that right balance of narrative where there’s a good blend of action, stakes, character, progression, and plot, but I think I've come a whole lot closer. Early B4 is a little too focused on low stakes character and narrative, and the crucible is way too deep in pure progression and lore/plot without engaging in enough action or character, but I’m very happy with how Strangspine and the imperial ruins turned out. A little slow on the set up, but hey, if this was a traditional job I'm still effectively in a graduate position. I got room to grow and learn.  I do think, however, that future delves will need to be much more dynamic  —  other teams, competing parties, etc.

I’ve got some good ideas for b5 too. They’re still nucleating, but I'm excited to get to the Dukedoms, and play around with some new toys.

Editing B1 also turned out great, and I can't wait to show it to all of you  —  whenever that is. I’m still only 75% done with line edits for b2, which is then followed by rewrites, but balancing that with writing is a goal for this year. 100%, all three will be released this year  —  after which I’m aiming to do an ebook/audio every 6 months, if they stick around that 1200+ page mark, at least.

I do want to get snappier with my plotting and arcs. While I don’t mind the overall pace of the series, nor the detail I put into things, but waffling is officially out for 2026. Gold star for me if I finish a book in <100 chapters (press x to doubt).

I’m aiming for a little more sustainability this year. I pushed myself a little too hard at points in 2025, doing silly things like aiming for writing 3+ chapters a day, which would lead to me flaming out and just barely getting 4ish done for a few weeks (and therefore immediately destroying any backlog progress I made). Even just coming up with plot that fast is bloody hard. Sure, when I first started dictating I managed some 15-20 chapter weeks, but that also led to the Crucible, so…..

Some people are just built different. Ostensible Mammal is one of them, I am not.

This year, I’m going to return to the old faithful of 2/day, m-f, which would net me +4 a week. Absolutely fine for holidays and my eventual plans for world domination. (I want to finish Runeblade 1+ years before you guys, so that I can spend 6-8 months cooking up something new, and overlap the posting schedule).

To do that, I need to actually work in the mornings, instead of dicking around so much. Made some good progress already, but more to go.

Most immediately, my plan is to fix the sleep schedule, and then later get back into picking things up and putting them back down. A healthy body and mind is good for the creative juices.

Hope you’ve enjoyed the journey, and here’s to sticking around till the end!

Bacon/Maxim

(My names gonna be on the ebooks so may as well reveal it now)

B4 Chapter 482: Delegation, pt. 4

A/N: I return, rested, rejuvinated, and ready to scratch my forehead as I desperately try to write more concisely! In honour of my constant failure at that, have a chapter that's 50% longer than I intended it to be!

I saw Mammal did a bit of a 'year in retrospective', so I might do one of my own over the next few hours.

With the two Silver mages meditating at the centre of the siege tower, low conversations spread out through the gathered groups.

Other than their five Silver leaders, the mages from Mystral had drifted to one edge of the tower opposite from Kaius and his friends. Almost instinctively, they gathered themselves according to their Spires — no doubt as much due to simple bonds of familiarity as it was political allegiance.

Happy to avoid as much attention as possible, Kaius stayed away from the centre — Rieker and Ro would be far more adept at politics than he was, to say nothing of the governor himself.

He couldn’t help but be absorbed in what he had just witnessed: an entire building arisen from the ground in seconds. Hells, he could still hear the churning crowds in the city streets below, yelling in confusion and surprise.

Even Ianmus seemed taken aback.

“So that was as impressive as it looked, then,” Kaius hedged a guess, keeping his voice low enough that his murmurs would only be heard by his team.

When Ianmus turned to look, Kaius caught the mage’s eye. “How are they not insensate? I’ve never seen you muster that much mana.”

Ianmus shrugged. “Different specialities — my magic lends itself to quick bursts, whereas something like this needs a slower, more considerate touch. Given the demands of their magic, Stonespire all but requires its initiates to invest in skills that help them deal with and recover from mana burn.”

Kaius shook his head. “They might be specialised, but a siege tower sprouting from the ground has a certain impact that other forms of magic lack.”

He couldn’t help but wonder — what would those mages be able to do if they reached the third tier? The fourth? Would they be able to conjure entire fortresses in seconds?

Even if specialising in construction had neutered their combat skills and spells completely — something he heavily doubted, considering both men had reached Silver — simply being able to move that much stone would make them terrors.

“A good thing they came when they did; the beasts could arrive any day now,” Kenva added, peering over the edge of the tower with an appreciative gleam in her eye. “Towers like these are invaluable. Less archers on the wall means more space for classers who are better suited for repelling any beasts that might scale them.”

Before their conversation could continue, Ophelia, the leader of Mystral’s mages, cleared her throat at the centre of the tower.

“Well. Now that our initial preparations have been made, and we find ourselves in a position of relative privacy, it is a good time for more…official introductions.”

Kaius didn’t miss the pertinent look that the storm mage gave his group — one that lingered equally on him, Porkchop, and Ianmus.

Hanrick glanced at the nearby earth mages, who were both unperturbed by their conversation. “Should we not wait for their work to be finished?”

“No,” Ophelia responded with a slight shake of her head. “Their plans for the defence of the city are extensive — they’ll be at this all night, and likely through the morning as well.”

Kaius couldn’t help but wince. He didn’t envy the mages; no doubt by the time they had finished, both of the Silvers would feel like they had ogres wailing on their heads.

He stilled as Ophelia’s eyes snapped to his group once more, the slightest of frowns on her face.

“I am curious, Governour — why did your missive not mention a greater meles? What possible interest could the Dens have in the fate of your city? They barely interact with the Conclaves, let alone grow invested in happenings outside of the Arboreal Sea.”

Kaius watched as every Steel mage in Mystral’s delegation froze, their eyes widening as they stared at Porkchop in disbelief. 

That was a surprise. Considering how fast Ianmus had noticed when they’d first met, Kaius had assumed that the Spire mages would have recognised his brother immediately. He supposed that Ianmus was a half-elf, and had far more context than most.

Hanrick groaned, looking over his shoulder briefly with pleading eyes. “A simple oversight, given the urgency of the situation.”

“An oversight?” Ophelia responded, arching her brow.

As Kaius straightened, ready to clear up the misunderstanding, he felt a mental nudge from his bondbrother.

“I’ll do it.”

Letting out a soft grumble, Porkchop rose to his feet — an action that immediately drew the attention of everyone atop the siege tower. Sometimes it was easy to forget just how large Porkchop had grown.

Not now, when he had to crane his head to avoid the buttressed stone ceiling of the tower.

“The Dens have no involvement, nor am I here in any official capacity. I have been living in Deadacre for over a year, operating as a delver alongside my team,” Porkchop said, looking back at Kaius and the rest of his friends.

Kaius struggled to keep from laughing as Porkchop winked at him.

His brother’s answer seemed to catch Ophelia and the rest of the Silver mages flat-footed. Behind her, a woman in a green robe frowned — Madrigal, Kaius assumed, the life mage that Ianmus had mentioned.

“But…why? And how? Are the elves aware that a greater meles has left the Sea?”

Porkchop let out a soft growl — one Kaius knew to be a warning. “You are mistaken if you assume that the elves have any say in my actions, nor that of any of my kin. As for why? Because it is a good way to grow strong, and it serves the interests of my friends and I. The only thing that matters is that I am here, and I am willing to fight.”

While Madrigal paled slightly at Porkchop’s initial rebuke, she nodded.

“That explains some of your old student’s growth, I suppose,” Ophelia said, glancing behind her to the mage, Cantor.

“Some of it,” Cantor replied, his eyes flicking over Kaius and his team.

Kaius watched the man closely. Ianmus had made it clear there was history between them, but the man didn’t seem malicious.

“We’ve gotten off track. We’re supposed to be planning how we stop a horde of beasts from devouring this city to the bones, not gossiping like tavern regulars!” Rieker growled.

Ophelia took the Guildmaster’s words in stride. “A fair point. Let us start with our fortification plans — integrating our mages into your battle lines should be easy enough.”

To Kaius’s relief, the topic of conversation quickly diverted away from him and his team. The discussions were detailed: layouts of new fortifications and how troops could be arrayed to take maximum use of them.

Much time was spent on exactly where the tallest siege tower should be placed. Its intended use was for Silvers — the mages and rangers who would benefit from additional viewing angles, and could strike equally as powerfully from far afield.

That little revelation quelled some of his nerves for the upcoming battle — if Kenva and Ianmus were both there, they would be well defended and far from any intrusions.

“I wonder where they’re going to put us?” Porkchop asked privately, watching the ongoing conversation with interest.

“By the eastern gate, I imagine,” Kaius replied.

He remembered the massive beasts that had broken through the gates to Old Yon’s compound. Now that it was confirmed that they had been controlled by a malicious intelligence, there was no doubt in his mind that the tyrant would attempt something similar with Deadacre.

That reminded him.

“What of the tyrant itself? How do we plan to deal with it?” he asked in a lull of the discussion.

“Overwhelming force,” Rieker replied. “If the army is limited to low Steel like Dross suggested, then a strike force consisting of Ro, Ark, your team, and I will have little difficulty punching through it. Signal flares will be distributed amongst us, guard leadership, and the militia — we gather when it’s been spotted. However, if this monstrosity has been holding stronger forces in reserve, they will likely need to be dealt with before we can strike.”

Kaius only hoped that the creature wouldn’t hide behind its army. The sooner they could break its compulsion over the beasts, the fewer lives would be lost. Even if the Tyrant had Golds, he’d killed more than a few of those before.

A slight tingle of thrill shot down his spine at the thought of facing down such a creature while surrounded by a teeming horde. Charging through an army would be dangerous — but he trusted his skills. Even hampered by his prosthetic, he refused to believe that beasts half his level would prove a challenge, especially not with his team being backed by three Golds.

Deadacre would not — could not — fall.

….

Ianmus leaned on the wall of the siege tower, staring out at the dead ground that surrounded the city.

The milling herd of hopefuls that would soon leave for Mystral had backed away from the city gates, creating space for the Silver mages of Stonespire to cast their next spell. He’d need to pass along his and Kaius’s notes before they left.

For now, he was content to watch Madra and Isaac work.

A visible wave of mana was flowing down through the tower at his feet. Surging underneath the city wall, it fuelled the steady growth of a demon’s bramble. Stone spikes — each taller than he was — erupted from the ground in fits and spurts.

Jutting in many angles, the spikes were not so densely clustered that they overlapped. Each one was a lowered pike, ready to spill the blood of any beast that was foolish enough to charge at the walls.

Dragon’s teeth. The name was certainly evocative.

He shook his head in amazement. Truly, it was astonishing — the work that the two Silvers were able to produce. Even if it would take them hours to surround the entire city, it was a display of manipulation mastery that dwarfed his own.

They were a perfect pair: one shifting and growing raw stone, while the other shaped it.

It was a perfect example that he shouldn’t grow too sure of himself simply because of the strength of his new class, and the advantages that honours had brought him. Decades of experience in magecraft was a power in and of itself.

“You know, despite their stoic countenance, I’m quite sure this is the most excited I’ve ever seen mages from Stonespire.”

The voice came from behind him. Cantor.

“Professor,” Ianmus replied.

Cantor’s expression was strange — like he’d bitten into an olive, only to find it was unpitted. The man didn’t know what to make of his new strength. Certainly, he’d been unbalanced by their now-equivalent status.

No. That was wrong — his lesser status. A professor Cantor might have been, but the Spires had always valued merit above all else.

Ianmus had reached Silver in a year. That alone placed him in an almost unassailable position. Once word had gotten out about his honours, discovery of keyseal conjuration, and his class…

Forsaken hells, even he didn’t know what to do with it.

Cantor blinked, seemingly in realisation that they had both been staring at each other for uncomfortably long.

“I have had to reevaluate my judgements, these last few days,” Cantor said after a few moments. “In your later years at the academy, it became clear that you were a hard worker — but I held bitterly to the belief that it was only the absence of any true talents that allowed you your position.”

The hawkish man snapped his mouth shut, as if it physically hurt to continue speaking. He swallowed, and continued anyway.

“I would be a fool to continue that belief. I am no fool.”

It was as good of an apology as he would get; Ianmus knew that with certainty. He gave Cantor a nod, and drew four notebooks from his ring.

“I would leave these with you. There are two copies of each book. Ideally, one set would return to Mystral with the most senior Mist mage — but Ophelia would also work, considering her abilities of flight. They must survive this battle — for the sake of all who love magic.”

Cantor turned them over in his hands, looking at them with surprise. “What are they?”

“New branches of magic discovered by myself and my team leader, Kaius. Keyseal conjuration and glyphbinding respectively. They’re different from sorcery or free casting — though in my opening notes I detail why I think the latter is not a wholly independent branch like we thought.”

Cantor gaped at him for a second, before he all but tore off the cover of the first notebook. For a few minutes his eyes roved across each page with the intensity of one cursed by the moon, tearing through the opening statements.

“This…impossible!” Cantor looked up, eyes wide with maniacal fascination. “You have proof?”

Ianmus grinned. “Other than the glyphs openly tattooed on my friend’s face? Yes.”

Mana welled up from his marrow as he urged the resource towards his first keyseal — The First Circle of Stability. Far less complex than his Keyseal of the Rising Dawn, it would be far easier for Cantor to pick apart the unique aspects of the magic.

His old professor stared with rapt attention — as did every other Spire mage, as they noticed the welling mana.

“Your mana!” Cantor suddenly gasped, though he looked equally concerned and confused. “You should halt your cast before your injury worsens!”

An understandable mistake — any other person with conduits so ruptured would be spending their final moments writhing in agony.

“There is no danger — not anymore.” Ianmus nodded to his notes, still in Cantor’s hand. “Freecasting keyseals is…dangerous, a significant reason the art will need careful research. They utilise sacred geometry, and require anchoring to the soul for stability. My first success was in the worst of circumstances — only succeeding in igniting my Corporus Aspect saved me.”

“Corporus…truly?” Cantor whispered, stricken once more.

“What can I say? I’ve had an eventful year.”

The muted silence of every mage in eyeshot was one of the sweetest gifts he could ask for. The fact that his team was biting back laughs at his braggadocio only made it better.

With enough mana gathered, his keyseal snapped into existence — a tightly packed disk of overlapping geometric patterns that hovered over his staff.

At once, every mage — from Silver to dozens of Steels — approached.

“How does it work? And how did you discover it?” one of them muttered, their identity lost in the crowd.

“Keyseals require intent to shape, unlike glyphbinding, but less than traditional magecraft. While less flexible, geometry and a link to the soul allows for stable spellforms to manifest externally. This seal stabilises and swiftens channel-based casting, though it reserves a portion of my pool. A combat seal I have drains additional mana from my surroundings, which is pooled and can be consumed to instantly cast a first or second-tier spell.”

His words drew the attention of every Silver — even Madra and Isaac, who must have been exhausted from their recently finished shaping of the dragon’s teeth.

“Instantly? Without channelling?” Ophelia asked, shocked.

Ianmus nodded. “I still have to channel to cast the keyseal in the first place, and it takes time to accumulate the energy it needs — but yes. Instantly. As for how I discovered it: building upon the work of others. My team leader, Kaius, discovered glyphbinding — a form of runic spellcasting. Helping him study its differences to traditional magic, and observing the role of sacred geometry in stabilising his own spells, led to my discovery.”

Instantly, every single mage turned, locking their eyes on Kaius.

Ianmus had to stifle a laugh as his friend froze. This was, perhaps, amongst his worst nightmares. Growing up in the middle of a forest had done no favours for Kaius’s comfort at the centre of attention.

Towards the centre of the Spire, Madra let out a tired grumble. “Two new branches of magic, a greater beast — what’s next?” He thrust his hand out, pointing right at Kenva. “You! Girl! What about you? Godsblessed? Dragonblooded? A complete legacy? Reborn incarnation of a pre-system elven archmagister? No doubt there’s something!”

Kenva smiled at the man sweetly. “Hereditary scion of the Clan of Zhdan, a ten-merge legacy skill, more than ten honours, and a class that’s every bit as strong as the rest of my team.”

The other stone mage, Isaac, snorted. “Figures you lot would have something to do with that bloody guild announcement a few days ago. Explains the quick levelling, at least. Impressive, that. Suicidal, but impressive.” He nodded towards Kaius, who still looked like he would be more comfortable hurling himself from the edge of the tower. “How about you show us that fancy new magic of yours? No way I’m going to be able to meditate until then.”

Kaius awkwardly ran his hand through his hair, before he nodded to an empty corner of the tower. “I’ll cast a Zone of Discombobulation. It won’t harm you, but you will become temporarily confused if you enter the area, so be cautious.”

A few mages from Ironspire edged further away from where Kaius had nodded. A moment later, light burst from the tightly inscribed script on Kaius’s temples.

Ianmus watched mana surge through Eirnith, excess expelled as glowing motes of magical energy as the spell snapped into existence — a barely visible shimmer that glowed slightly in his mana sight.

Every mage in the delegation was held in rapt fascination as they watched the spell snap into existence instantly. It was almost funny — the way they anxiously flicked between the offgassing mana that vented from Kaius’s glyph, and the spell itself. It was like they had witnessed a mirage that might vanish if they so much as breathed too heavily.

Just in front of him, he caught sight of Cantor looking at Kaius, Kaius’s spell, the books in his hand, and then Ianmus’s keyseal once more. His grip tightened.

“I am invoking the Council’s seal — these treatises must be delivered directly to their hands.” He looked to Ianmus. “These are not the only two copies in existence?”

“We have one more, copies I inscribed in the hours before your arrival. If time allows, more should be transcribed.”

Cantor nodded. “Light work for a mage cadre. We should have additional copies distributed amongst all parties present that are Silver or higher. You are right — this knowledge must survive.”

B4 Chapter 481: Delegation, pt. 3

A/N: 3/3, more notes on immediate holiday schedule at the end of the chap

The frontier seemed endless from atop Deadacre’s western wall. While the land surrounding the city wasn’t perfectly flat, there were no great hills or mountains for days in any direction. Hard-packed, sun-baked dirt extended for half a league or so, and then there was just grass, broken only by the odd stout tree that clung to life. Even the indomitable Wildgard Mountains that cut off the frontier from the coast were too far to be seen — the towering peaks shaded by the far-off horizon.

As he stood there and watched, Kaius wondered what to expect from the mages that were coming. The animus might have tried to hide it, but he could tell his friend was nervous. Understandable, considering it would be the first time he’d met Spire mages since their fateful meeting over a year ago.

At least Ianmus was a known quantity. Kaius didn’t have that grace. Even Kenva had the pedigree of a Hiwiann clan to lean on. As far as the mages were concerned, he was some no-name bladesman that had appeared out of nowhere.

He wasn’t quite nervous — not after everything he had lived and experienced — but it would be a lie to say that he didn’t feel the touch of uncertainty, at least, along his back. If only he wasn’t so visibly branded on his face. There was no hiding his oddities, nor that of his magic, anymore.

Regardless of his feelings on the matter, the mages were due any minute now. Thank the gods he’d managed to cram together the last of his basic notes on glyphbinding that he wanted to share.

It’d give the Spires a base point to at least explore the theoretical underpinnings of the art, though he hadn’t given them direct diagrams of his current glyphs, nor the prototype his father had developed. That said, he had left copies of those with Rieker, Ro, Ark, and Hanrick — even if everything went totally to shit, at least one of them was likely to survive.

Every single one of them that had been present at the war council now waited on the wall, watching for their imminent arrival. They’d split off into their own groups. Governor Hanrick waited with his entourage close to the stairs down from the wall, while Rieker, Ro, and Ark leaned against a buttress.

Kaius had moved a little further along — it made it easier to converse without disturbing the others.

Ianmus had said the mages would be flying in. Gods, Kaius couldn’t even imagine what that must be like. Every boy who dreamed of magic dreamt of being able to fly. How would it feel to have the sovereign winds blow through your hair as league after league dissolved beneath you, he wondered.

It must be exhilarating.

He couldn’t wait to gain the ability for it himself. He was lucky; one of his spells for Aelina might have the capability, but he knew it wasn’t a certainty. Flight was a rare ability, at least in the second tier. He could only hope. But the strength of his class and his skills would be enough to nudge things in his favour.

Still, the fact that the mages were flying in presented unique difficulties. They’d cleared out a city square only two blocks behind his position on the walls — an endeavour that was more difficult than it sounded, considering streets near the Western Gate were packed to the bursting. Thousands of uneasy souls, ready and waiting to flee the city.

Kaius looked back, seeing the teeming ocean of people. There were no carts, no wagons, and certainly no caravans — they wouldn’t have any hope of reaching Mystral swiftly, and the safety of the waiting guards at the Mage’s Pass. The governor had mandated that each could only take what they could carry.

That had been an unpopular proclamation, but at least Hanrick was charismatic enough that it hadn’t led to riots. No — Kaius could only see a boiling nervousness and discontent among the gathered would-be refugees. Further to his right by the Western Gate, an entire contingent of city guards and a dozen delver squads stood ready and waiting.

It was an anemic escort, but all the city could spare.

Thank the gods they would have mages joining them.

Of the group arriving, roughly a third would be returning to Mystral within the hour — mostly mages from Mistspire, whose affinity was specialised towards misdirection and subtle, wide-reaching effects.

It was, as far as Kaius could tell, the smartest play. With the assistance of mages, those hopefuls would be far less likely to run into beast attacks on their journey.

He just wished the delegation from Mystral would arrive a little quicker — they’d already been waiting for the better part of an hour.

Kaius returned to watching the horizon, lightly tapping his foot to burn off some of his impatience.

“Remind me again of who I should pay attention to,” Kaius asked.

Standing with his back tall and watching the west with focused intensity, Ianmus didn’t even blink at his question.

“The head of the cadre is Ophelia of Stormspire. She is the eldest and strongest of the lot — high Silver — and she and her assistants will be how everyone is arriving so quickly. She is a flight specialist. There is Madra and Isaac of Stonespire; I don’t know them personally, only by reputation, but both are said to be experts in stone-shaping and have likely been sent to bolster our fortifications. Madrigal of Lifespire is a senior healer. And then there is Cantor, from my own Sunspire.”

Kaius didn’t miss the way his friend’s voice grew ever so slightly clipped at the mention of the last mage.

“Is there a little history with the last one there?” Porkchop questioned.

Ianmus sighed, shrugging. “Nothing worth wasting time and attention on. He was one of my old professors, and a little harsher than he needed to be. But I do not think he is enough of a fool to let that interfere with our defence of Deadacre.”

Before Kaius could reply, he was jolted into a state of shock. Kenva walked forward and leant over the wall, staring off into the horizon.

“I hope so, because they’ll be here soon.” She raised her voice so that the others atop the wall could hear her. “Mages spotted, due west!”

Kaius snapped to where his friend was watching, focusing as the far-flung horizon was thrown into sharp relief. He spotted the mages immediately.

A hundred souls, soaring through the sky as they were backlit against the blue expanse behind them. They were tightly packed — far more than he had expected — and judging by the way their robes billowed behind them, they were moving faster than he could sprint.

It was hard to tell how much faster, though — distance and a lack of surrounding terrain made it all but impossible to find an easy reference.

With the mages sighted, Governor Hanrick leapt into action. Moving with his entourage along the wall, he stopped atop the Western Gate.

“Open the gates. The mage escort has been spotted.”

His guards moved to obey.

Guards and the few delver squads that would accompany the refugees streamed out into the frontier, guiding a flowing river of bodies into an orderly formation before the city walls. It was a slow process. Even with the city’s entrance being built to handle multiple caravans, there were just too many souls.

Yet despite the difficulty, the milling refugees streamed out with far less chaos than Kaius expected — individual voices drowning out into a low rumble as the crowd ebbed out like a river bursting its banks.

By the time the mages were visible to those without ocular skills, Hanrick had returned to their group. They watched them approach.

This close, Kaius was surprised to see that it didn’t look like every mage was ecstatic about their airborne journey — some had icy pale faces.

At the front of their host was a woman in icy grey robes, wild blonde hair streaming behind her. She had the ecstatic grin he expected from someone flying, as did the nearly twenty other mages that encircled the rest of the group at its edges. Dressed in same coloured robes, they must have been Ophelia and the other mages of Stormspire.

Mana streamed from each of them in a great wave, woven into a spell construct — encapsulated, different bubbles. It wasn’t a singular effect. Instead, each storm mage seemed responsible for a handful of their peers, while Ophelia’s more potent work accelerated the whole group to breakneck pace.

It was an impressive show of cooperative casting, and even those many thousands who had left the city fell into a hushed silence as the mages flew overhead.

“Ho! Down into the square behind us!” Rieker yelled, his deep basso carrying through the air like a thunderclap and breaking the silence.

The head mage, Ophelia, nodded, and dozens of mages flew past them in a slow descent.

Despite the quick pace at which they moved, Kaius caught sight of four other mages in embroidered robes — two in brown, one in green, and one in the same shining white that Ianmus had worn when they’d first met.

The other Silvers, Kaius assumed.

He walked up to Ianmus, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “Well then. Shall we go say hello?”

Ianmus grinned, enthusiasm plain. It seemed his apprehension had faded somewhat — as it should. The man had much to be proud of, given what he had achieved in the time they had known each other.

As a group, they made for the stairs, the rest of Deadacre’s official delegation already hurrying for the meeting point.

…

When they arrived, Ophelia of Stormspire was already barking orders to a cluster of mages in smoky blue robes. The mist mages, Kaius assumed. Their strength was evident — if not from their Mistspire emblems, then from the simple power Kaius felt in their auras. Each and every one of them had crossed the wall of the hundredth level.

“Ulric, meet with the guard lieutenant we spotted outside the walls and let them know you are ready to depart immediately. The quicker you reach the Mage’s Pass, the better.”

One of the gathered mages nodded, before he set off at a run for the city wall — the other mist mages close behind him.

Almost immediately after she finished giving her orders, Ophelia turned to their approaching group. The Silver mage locked eyes with Governor Hanrick. She gave him a smile, and nodded.

“Govenour Hanrick. Your reputation precedes you. My sincerest condolences for the approaching threat you face, but I assure you — between me and my colleagues, we will see your city well defended.”

Hanrick almost slumped with relief. “I thank you. It is good to know that the old oaths binding our cities still stand strong.”

“Let it never be said that Mystral forgets its debts,” the storm mage replied, before she turned to Rieker and gave him a polite nod. “Guildmaster.”

“Magister,” Rieker replied in kind. “As important as proper introductions are, the beasts draw ever closer. How soon can we work on reinforcing the city?”

Ophelia turned toward her fellow senior mages. Each of them was watching their group closely, though one was staring directly at Ianmus — a hawkish man with dark eyes and honeyed skin that had a thoughtful frown on his face.

Cantor, Kaius assumed on the basis of his stark white robes.

One of the Silver mages wearing brown robes stepped forwards. “Madra of Stonespire. I appreciate the candour. We can begin immediately.”

The other stone mage, Isaac, stepped forward.

“Can we raise a tower in this courtyard?” he asked, looking straight at Hanrick. “We plan to raise more throughout the city and inside of the walls, but we need a high vantage point to properly craft exterior defences.”

“Of course,” Hanrick replied, only hesitating slightly.

Both of the stone mages nodded. “In which case — steady your footing.”

In unison, the mages began to channel, great streams of stone mana coalescing around their staves. It was an astounding gathering of energy — just as dense and forceful as when Ianmus gathered his own power for a devastating overcharged ray.

Watching it made Kaius giddy. He’d only ever seen that much mana used to destroy, not create.

The two stone mages grew absorbed in their work. The rest of the group was silent out of respect for the effort involved in such a sizable shaping of magic. Kaius still caught Ianmus’s fellow Sunspire mage staring at his friend. Cantor didn’t quite look hostile — more like he had been presented with a puzzle he had no idea how to solve.

Kaius resolved to keep an eye on the mage. Kenva, it seemed, had as well. The ranger caught his eye, flicking her gaze towards Cantor and back again.

He gave her an almost imperceptible nod. Ianmus could handle himself, but that mattered little. He was part of the team, and that was that.

As far as Kaius could tell, no one noticed their exchange, least of all the earth mages.

“What have we got to work with?” Madra asked his colleague, eyes focused on the mana coalescing on his staff.

“The foundations run deep, which is not so strange for an old city. Plenty of bedrock though — igneous, good and hard. We won’t need modifications.”

“Good. You shift the raw material, and I’ll build.”

Following their clipped exchange, both fell into silence, their mana slowly building minute by minute, until Kaius questioned how much mana the mages could possibly need.

Over a quarter of an hour later, Isaac cast first. Stone mana rushed down, infusing the square beneath them with the inexorable momentum of a landslide. Despite the potency of the mage’s spell, Kaius only heard a faint, deep rumble, like two stones were being ground together.

A moment of stillness passed as Madra acted. The second Silver mage grunted, slamming his staff down on the flagstones. A great crack filled the air. Kaius whipped his head around, seeing the pavement at the edges of the square split.

They rose, stride by stride, as a pillar of solid stone lifted them towards the heavens. Close to the edge, Kaius caught sight of stone flowing like water, moulding itself into thickly armoured and buttressed stairs that spiralled down the edge of the pillar.

A chest-high wall surged upwards from the edge of the platform, pylons every ten strides flowing higher to stretch into a squat, buttressed roof.

A bunker, jutting into the sky.

Rising like a spring shoot, Kaius heard a cacophony of far-off yells as they rose past the city walls. The gathered hopefuls preparing to leave for Mystral were staring in their thousands, mesmerised by the display of magic — and Silver might.

Staggering at the growth, Kaius marvelled from his new perspective. Nearly a full third taller than the city walls, the freshly raised tower gave him a perfect view of the lands outside of the walls.

Their spells completed, both Silver mages slumped as they raggedly gasped.

Kaius openly stared at them, shocked they were still standing. There was no way in all the hells that either of the mages had escaped mana burn — not after raising a siege tower under their very feet.

To think they wanted to raise more of these towers. Each one would be a boon: a safe vantage point for rangers and mages to strike at gathered beasts. Plus, Kaius hadn’t missed the viewing angle he had of the city streets of Deadacre. Gods forbid — if the beasts ever breached the walls, they would still have plenty of opportunities to strike at them from relative safety.

Giving his work a cursory once-over, Madra nodded to himself. “Sturdy. Good.”

Both mages sat down in unison, uncaring of their audience as they downed tonics that had been stashed in their robes.

“We will need a half hour to recover, then we continue,” Isaac said, before he looked up at the thick stone roof that covered the tower. “We should add another buttress.”

“Dragon’s teeth and trench first,” Madra huffed.

Kaius blinked at the pair. They were certainly single-minded. More importantly, what in the hells were dragon’s teeth?

A/N 2: Back from sydney, barely survived the heat and the sniffles, but the uncomfy bed damn near did me in lmao

Gonna take an actual break for NYE, but will return to my normal schedule on monday (sunday for most of you). Will probably start writing on friday/sat but wanna try build up some of the backlog I churned through over xmas lol

B4 Chapter 480: Delegation, pt. 2

A/N: 2/3

Ianmus gripped the letter in his hands, its edges crumpling.

It was a simple thing — rough-cut and crudely processed, with a tan tint that suggested it hadn’t been through a bleaching wash. An everyday, run-of-the-mill product like he might expect a simple innkeep to use for his ledger, yet the information it held struck far harder than its common heritage.

The Mystral delegation was arriving in hours.

Ianmus rocked back in his chair, the letter fluttering to the table. So soon. He’d expected that his contemporaries would still be days away. The administration of the Spires was many things, but swift-moving wasn’t a word he would have picked to describe it. Even with the current circumstances, organising so many mages from multiple different Spires should have taken time.

Was it him? He still didn’t know how the Headmaster had been able to tell, but the man had noticed his strength immediately.

What was he thinking? Of course his sudden ascension to Silver would have forced the Spires into action. He was a known quantity — skilled and dedicated, yes — but he was not so egotistical as to think that his rise would have been expected.

His fate had been changed irrevocably when he met Kaius and Porkchop, and that would have been just as evident to the Headmaster as it was to him.

Ianmus glanced at the letter once more, detailing not just the upcoming arrival of the mages, but who he should expect. Seventy of them. Most senior mages, well on their way through the ranks of Steel. From Sunspire, Stormspire, Ironspire, and Stonespire.

That, in and of itself, didn’t surprise him. Of course the Headmaster would ensure a sizable delegation from their shared dynasty. And the others were either close allies in the complex dance that was Mystral politics, or — in the case of Stonespire — straightforward and honourable.

Though he suspected those mages had an ulterior motive to join as well. He’d never met a stone mage who didn’t dream of defending against a siege.

More surprising was the composition of the cadre: five Silvers, headed by Ophelia of Stormspire — and Cantor of his own.

Ophelia, he knew of only by reputation. Fiery and resolute, she was a mid-Silver who had mastered flight. No doubt a significant part of this swift arrival would be her doing, supported by the Steels of Stormspire.

Cantor, though — that man he knew.

Ianmus blinked, remembering those hard grey eyes boring into him, always watching, waiting for him to slip up. Ianmus never had, for he was not the man that Cantor had always assumed him to be. 

The son of a wealthy, blueblooded merchant, Cantor had been one of the few in the Spire to hold no distaste for Ianmus’s half-born heritage. No, his prejudice had been founded entirely in the fact that Ianmus was low-born — a dirt-streaked rat with delusions of grandeur.

Ianmus clenched his fist. Once, he might have been nervous, perhaps even felt a little sick running into Cantor once again. Not now.

How would the mage react now that they were equals?

A thought came to him, causing him to shake his head. Were they equals? Cantor had taken decades to reach Silver, and while he had made respectable and notable achievements to the progression of the mystic arts, they were only what was expected of him.

He, on the other hand, had seized a Heroic class, discovered a whole new branch of spellcasting, and gathered Honours by the pile.

Cantor might have been a middle Silver with forty levels on him, but Ianmus had killed Golds.

The idea that he was stronger than a man who had once been his strictest tutor was an odd one.

He grinned. Cantor must have been briefed on what to expect, and Ianmus would have paid all the gold in the world to have been able to witness that conversation through an illusory eye.

Still, regardless of their personal differences — and Cantor’s personal failings — Ianmus knew that the mage respected Sunspire and the duties of his station above all else. In five years at the Academy, not once had Cantor overtly abused his power to unfairly block Ianmus’s advancement. Oh, the feedback had been extensive, harsh, and often dubiously even-handed compared to some of his classmates — but he’d never been unfairly marked.

He remembered that day, at the end of his second year. He’d been sitting at his desk, working on some final preparations for a spellweaving demonstration he had to undertake at the end of that week. Despite knowing that he was easily the most prepared in his class, he’d still pushed himself — right up until a letter had arrived, summoning him before the Headmasters and his professor.

Even with the note providing no details, he’d known what it was for. It had come only two weeks before the official announcement of the valedictorian. It was everything he had strived for: month after month of labour, pushing himself to the brink to prove to himself and the rest of the Spire that he was more than worthy — that he was the very best.

Cantor had been there when he had been presented with his sash — a single face amongst over a dozen that had crowded the Headmaster’s office, a space already drowning in stacked piles of books and small mountains of scrolls.

The Silver mage had looked like he’d swallowed a bitter pill, but Ianmus hadn’t missed the sincerity of his congratulations.

Maybe he was overreacting. It had been years since he had last seen Cantor. It would be the first time they met as equals, rather than professor and initiate.

Ianmus ran his hands through his hair. Who was he kidding? An old, squabblesome relationship with a teacher mattered nothing in the face of keyseal conjuration.

His notes. They still weren’t finished.

Rocking to his feet, Ianmus tore into his room and grabbed the notebook that still lay on his nightstand from where he had been working on revisions the previous night. Hurrying back to the table, he flicked through the pages, summoning a pen to hand.

Most of the groundwork was there: notes on forms of sacred geometry that he’d discovered held particular stability, both from his initial two system-granted key seals and his early experiments, would provide a base point for people to jump from. More important was the aspect of how key seals bound to the soul, which was still opaque to him. His first binding — the one that had granted him a skill, and eventually a class relating to the art — had almost killed him.

Keyseals were distinct from his teamleaders glyphs. Unlike runes, which had a stabilising effect all on their own, his keyseals needed the support of being intricately bound to him. It was the only way they could stay stable, despite manifesting outside his body and manaflow.

His Keyseal of the Rising Dawn had given him some insight. Its very structure was woven with the power of the sun, with mana infused with just a hint of his soul — a significant reason why it reserved from his pool instead of outright consuming the energy. 

There were massive holes in his understanding, as was the common failing of all novel skills granted by the system. He did not have complete access to its theoretical underpinnings.

More than that, it was a skill of heroic rarity in the second tier, and inordinately complex for it. Hopefully, what he had been able to derive would be enough for the Spires to replicate, given time and careful study.

A better spot than Kaius to be in. Not only did his team lead have far less academic experience than he did, but glyphbinding was, admittedly, more nuanced than keyseal conjuration. Runes were notoriously fickle, and that was an aspect that did not change when they were applied to spellcasting. Traditional magecraft, and keyseals, were reliant on intent. Glyphbinding was almost totally derived from execution and exacting geometry. A single misalignment of a rune could cause the whole of the weave to fail.

Ianmus sighed, thinking of how much research they had to do. Getting the word out to the spires was the right move — beyond personal benefits, it was how the fields would advance as a whole. He hoped Kaius and Porkchop returned quickly from their brief descent into the Imperial ruin underneath the city. Their absence from the arriving delegation would be notable — maybe even questioned. Kenva, at least, would almost certainly have received a letter of her own. Most likely, she was already on her way back, storage artefact filled with hundreds or thousands of arrows destined for the walls.

He heard the muffled sound of a heavy footfall in the hallway — unmistakably Porkchop’s. Hanrick might have enchanted all his rooms with silence formations, but they were not absolute, and Ianmus had his father’s ears.

That, and the floorboards really had a unique way of protesting to Porkchop’s considerable bulk.

“Ho there,” Kaius said, opening the door to their suite. Porkchop’s black and grey head poked over his shoulder. “Manage to get much work done?”

“Oh, thank the gods,” Ianmus said, sighing in relief.

“Did something happen?” Porkchop questioned.

Kaius seemed equally interested, sliding in next to him with a puzzled frown on his face.

“My fellow Spire mages are arriving in a few hours,” Ianmus replied, nodding to the letter on the table.

Kaius raised his brow as he picked up the letter and scanned it. “So they are.”

A heartbeat later, Kaius shot to his feet. “Shit, my notes!”

Ianmus watched his team leader launch for the room he shared with Porkchop. 

Headmaster’s beard, he knew their was no way Kaius had remembered to finish them!

“And that’s why I sighed in relief,” Ianmus muttered, swivelling towards Porkchop as he settled down to sit by the head of the table. “How was your visit with the Castellan? Are they able to help with the defence?”

Porkchop grunted. “No. Something about the automata being defence models means they won’t work outside of the ruin. It will, however, reinforce the ruins themselves and populate the maintenance tunnels outside of the wall with drones to prevent incursion into the city via that method.”

“And the blast doors?” Ianmus asked. The hope had been that the civilians would be able to control them and seal themselves off, but who knew if it was possible?

Porkchop nodded. “It’ll only take a couple of days for the Castellan to do the work, but it’s certain it can be done.”

“Thank the gods.” 

The letter mentioned that the mages Mystral had sent included a number to escort any refugees back to the coastal city, but Ianmus knew that would only be a fraction of Deadacre’s populace. There were too many with homes and businesses in the city that had refused to leave.

Reaching over, Porkchop dragged the letter across the table.

“So, anything I should expect when all these mages recognise what I am? I assume they will notice just as quickly as you did when we first met.”

Ianmus paled. He hadn’t even thought of that.

B4 Chapter 479: Delegation, pt. 1 

A/N: 1/3 - I meant to post these like 12 hours ago. Games happened, then it was 4 am woops

Kaius sat at a restaurant table right at the edge of their outside seating. He’d had to shuffle it away a little further still to make room for Porkchop, but none of the staff had minded — nor the few other patrons that were still in the mood to eat out, given the circumstances.

He and Porkchop were alone. Ianmus was still holed up in their suite at the Dusty Stables, desperately preparing for the arrival of his fellow Spire mages. Kenva was as busy as ever; the ranger had committed herself to the production of arrows, and every spare second she got had been devoted to singing them out of the trees she’d found in the governor’s personal greenhouse.

Thinking of Ianmus reminded Kaius that he, too, needed to prepare for the mages’ arrival. His friend took his duty to Sunspire seriously, and had been preparing a treatise on his understanding of keyseals so that the Spires could further the art with more research. Kaius was doing the same — perhaps not in as great detail. Glyphbinding was first and foremost a runic art, but he had begun a description of the fundamentals; those roots his father had discovered. He was almost finished, and he hoped that when he was done it would be enough for a skilled runewright to recreate something similar to his original glyph.

That should be enough to safeguard the knowledge of glyphbinding should the worst come to pass before he was able to share his findings in more detail with the Collective. He would, of course, extract any oath he could from the mages to deliver his preliminary notes to the Mystral branch of the Collective so that they could be registered in his name.

There was a chance of foul play, but he felt that it was unlikely. For one, the Spires were a generally honourable and upstanding institution; the political risk to their image of trying to swindle a Silver of good repute like himself was too great. And for another, he’d left enough vagaries in his explanation that being able to expound on the details would irrevocably prove that he was the original author if somebody else tried to pass off the work as their own.

“What’s got you so distracted that you can’t even take the time to enjoy one of our few moments of rest?” Porkchop asked, nudging his leg.

Kaius blinked, then smiled at his bondbrother. “Just thinking about the mages.”

Porkchop chuckled. “Well, don’t. Have a go at enjoying your food instead. Who knows when we’ll next be able to eat out like this.”

Kaius smiled — Porkchop was right. Picking up his fork, he speared at his salad, doing his best to aim for a slice of beef sitting atop the greens. In all honesty, it was a damned surprise that they’d even managed to find a place to eat.

The few cooks and chefs that were still operating had mostly taken to converting food into shelf-stable products in as great a volume as they could.

Though, he did suppose there was good money to be made in being one of the few enterprises still serving in the current market. It was clear he was paying out the arse for the luxury; whoever owned the Crooked Hen had raised their prices three times over. It was a drop in the bucket for one such as him, but… well, it was no surprise that most of the remaining clientele were delvers and merchants themselves.

It was a good day at least. He had a hearty warm salad, and even if they would soon have to leave to make contact with the Castellan living below the city, that could wait an hour. The sun was shining bright, and he and Porkchop had a perfect view of the city square in front of them.

It was filled with nearly a hundred youngsters of all stripes. Each and every one of them was focused, listening to the directions of four guild trainers who walked amongst them, giving out pointers and other advice.

From what Kaius had been able to pick out, they were working on the skill Sure-Footed Scout. It was an interesting one — a legacy skill of five mergers that came from the batch other members of the guild had contributed. It had mild ocular properties: enhancing threat detection and visual awareness, and providing identification capabilities — but it also had a physical enhancement component as well, making the user better at traversing rough terrain and moving swiftly.

It was, like many of the legacy skills in the guild’s release, a highly flexible skill that could find its place in many builds.

Something that had not been missed by this batch attempting to learn it. Kaius could pick out would-be skirmishers, rogues, rangers — even what looked to be a few bastions, and a couple of mage-hopefuls.

Since he and Porkchop had arrived, the trainers had been teaching the gathered students to infuse their eyes with mana.

Kaius grinned. He remembered that discomfort — the stinging pressure that came with it — yet not one of them complained, nor did any of them slack. They delved into their training with the gusto of somebody who had been given a blessing of the gods, which, in many ways, they had.

From urchins to merchants, poor and wealthy alike, none of those in the square would have had access to legacy skills. This was an opportunity that it seemed not one of them was willing to let pass, not even with the threat of beasts on the horizon.

Kaius could barely grapple with it. It had barely been two days since Rieker had made his announcement, and still the young gathered in hordes, soaking up every bit of knowledge they could — even as scores of men skirted the edge of the square, carting wagons of raw material to alchemists and smiths who would produce the supplies to support the war effort.

There was no sign of the approaching beasts yet. Whatever malevolence the tyrant held was a cruel one. While the movement of an army was not a swift thing, it seemed to be taking its time, moving slowly so that they could steep in their own unease.

Already, there had been refugees from the west: those sane inhabitants of outlying villages who, upon hearing that a wave of monsters was coming their way, had fled to the walls of Deadacre. It was, unfortunately, not all — or even most — of the cities inhabitants. Too many were too stubborn, too proud, or too disbelieving to make the journey.

Yet if the tyrant was cruel enough to give them time, Deadacre had not squandered it. The city was preparing — and, Kaius supposed, so were those young who trained just ahead of him in the square. Every skill they learned now, even if they had little hope of capping and completing a merge, would still aid them in surviving.

And not just those who would remain in Deadacre. This very evening, the first exodus would begin. From what he’d heard, there were thousands who had decided to band together and strike for Mystral.

It was a risky enterprise. Deadacre could spare neither guards nor delvers to escort them. In the numbers they moved, common, uninfluenced beasts were not likely to strike, but it was still a risk. The Wildgard Mountains were a land of terrors. Mystral was sending a force to the Mages’ Pass that granted access to the city through the Wildgard Mountains, but they would still lose people.

Kaius could understand why most preferred to rest their hopes in the defences of Deadacre’s walls and forces.

Kaius blinked, shaking his head. He needed to stop being so morose. Even if a siege was coming, he had to appreciate the miracle in front of him. Public skill training, free of charge, for a legacy skill. Any other time, any other day, and he would have said it was an impossibility.

“It is rather nice to see, is it not?” Porkchop agreed. “And look, over there.”

Kaius felt a nudge in his mind, directing his attention to a figure deep in the throng. Now that the boy had been pointed out, it took Kaius only a moment to recognise that it was Niles.

Rather than the skinny, mud-drenched thing he had stumbled upon in the alleyway, he looked well-fed, and his frame had filled out a bit with wiry muscle in the last couple of months since Kaius had last seen him. The boy even had the blade Kaius had given him belted at his waist. Ro must have trusted that he was ready to look after it.

The focused frown on his face — Niles was manipulating his mana as it moved towards his eyes in flickering spurts — and for someone so new to the process he was doing admirably.

Kaius leaned back, a wide smile on his face, as he suddenly felt far more full and satisfied than could be explained by his lunch alone.

Kaius took another bite of the salad. Until he finished his lunch, he would enjoy the show.

…

Deep beneath the city, Kaius looked around the borehole that held the entrance to the Imperial facility. It was subtly different. While the hallway beyond the massive vault door was still broken and shattered, much had been changed. True structural damage had been repaired and replaced by new stone. While the torn and shattered barriers and defensive stations had remained, the magic within the walls that had been able to track was largely absent.

“Skeleton’s are gone, too.” Porkchop added.

Kaius blinked and realised that his brother was right. Not just the ancient remains either — the team that had originally been tucked away at the bottom of the borehole entrance had vanished. It was, he thought, a good thing. If people were to shelter in the maintenance tunnels above, there was a higher likelihood they might stumble across here, and the less evidence of past slaughter, the better.

Before he could reply, Kaius heard a hissing crack from within the entrance to the facility, followed by a familiar tinny voice.

“Lord Unterstern, you have returned.”

The automata’s voice was there, but he could not see its body.

“Where are you, Castellan?”

“In cold storage, my lord. Repairs have progressed to the extent that I am able to network into the facility once more. This is a simple voice projection through artefice, nothing else.”

Kaius nodded. That was good. What he had seen in the Castellan and explained had meant it had made extensive progress since they’d last seen each other — only a little less than a week ago. He hoped his request could be completed just as swiftly.

“I come with news, Castellan. A tyrant has been spotted, and it leads an army of beasts to Deadacre — many thousands of them, their levels as high as low Steel.”

The Castellan’s response was immediate. “Dire news, my lord. Is this one of these threats that you mentioned came with the phase change?”

Kaius nodded. “The very same.”

The Castellan paused for a moment. “My lord, I counsel you shelter within this facility. If the city falls, I will be able to exfiltrate you away from the city. That will mean damage to my chassis.”

“We will be doing no such thing,” Porkchop said. “The people here need us.”

Kaius nodded, before he relayed Porkchop’s words for the Castellan. 

“My bondbrother is right. We hoped to shelter civilians in the maintenance tunnel above, and perhaps even the facility if the walls are breached. I was hoping that you would be able to alter the secure doors so that they could be operated by hand. If the worst comes to it, would you be able to defend them?”

“The adjustments to the blast door mechanisms would be trivial,” the Castellan replied, “as would the use of worker drones and defence. I can easily station a great number of them in the tunnels that extend past the city walls. However, utilising Centurions is only possible within the facility proper. Their energy demands are too high — beyond that, serious consideration must be made for the political fall out of active automata defense.” The castellan paused for a moment. “As for myself, I have no doubt I could slay this Tyrant, but I am not built for extended engagements. The mana I draw through my chassis is great enough to cause damage during combat activation. Failure would be inevitable, especially against an army of lesser creatures.”

Kaius winced. He’d hoped he’d be able to rely on the Castellan to preserve the innocent. He could only hope that the drones would be enough — with their high levels and reinforced bodies, the beasts would find them a tough bite to chew through.

“Don’t worry too much, Kaius,” Porkchop said. “At least this way we dont need to worry about a horde surging out of the sewers.”

Kaius shook his head. Even if they did have some measure of defence, it was frustrating to know that a pinnacle existence lay right beneath their feet, and yet it was unable to solve their problem for them.

“Was there anything else, my lord?” the Castellan asked.

Kaius shook his head. “No.”

He was far too busy to stick around and chat — there was, after all, a war brewing.

“In that case, I shall have the far tunnels populated and defended within the next few hours. The adjustments to the doors will take another two days, at which point I will be ready. I will be ready to receive refugees as they are required.”

“Thank you, Castellan,” Kaius said, then nodded.

He nodded to Porkchop, gesturing back up the stairs that spiralled up the edge of the borehole with his chin. “Come on. Let’s get back to the stables.”

B4 Chapter 478: Guild Announcements, Pt. 2

A/N: 3/3. Also, having a head cold over christmas in meltworthy weather sucks

“I need you up there with me,” Rieker said.

Kaius blinked. Rotten roots, the guildmaster really wasn’t one to mince words.

“You what?” Kaius replied, surprised.

Another runner had come for him and his team, meeting them at the dusty stables. Rieker had asked them to arrive at the guild an hour early so that he could brief them on what to expect. They’d barely been in the guild hall a second before one of the administrators on the front desk had shown them to a hall beneath the compound.

He had to admit, the guild moved quickly. Most of the open spaces built beneath the city were left bare during normal functioning, used for infrequent gatherings. Yet despite the late notice, the space had been filled to the brim with dozens upon dozens of round tables, each with enough seats to fit teams of varying sizes.

They’d been led to a room tucked behind the stage where Rieker and Ro waited. Kaius had barely even gotten a few seconds to breathe before Rieker had hit him with his question.

What did the man mean, that they were needed up on stage?

Beside the guildmaster, Ro sighed and leaned on the side of a desk nearby. “You are Silver, and that means more than just strength and status. The six of us are, in essence, living totems of the guild’s strength, and walking examples of capability. The city is in the grips of the greatest threat it has faced in centuries, and we’re about to throw fuel on the fire. Normally, it would be Bronwyn up there with his team, but…”

Ro snapped her mouth shut, jaw clenching.

Stoic as she was, it was impossible to miss the raw edge at the mention of the vanquished Silvers.

“Look, we need you, Kaius,” Rieker said, stepping in. “You won’t need to say anything if you don’t want to, but if the four of you aren’t up there, people will question it.”

“So we just have to stand up there?” Kenva asked.

Rieker nodded. “It’s a simple show of strength, and a display of our capability. Nothing more.”

Kaius let out a slow breath. He supposed he could manage that — even if he could feel his stomach clenching at the thought of hundreds of delvers focusing their attention on him. That said, the knot in his stomach made him feel that it was unlikely they would get away with simply being present. Their rise had been too swift and too sudden. Their presence in Deadacre too obvious. They were prodigies beyond prodigies in the eyes of many.

Somehow, he doubted that they would get away with playing mum when questions arose about Honours.

Judging by the apprehensive looks on his friends’ faces, his team was equally uncertain about being paraded in front of the entire guild. None of them had gotten into delving for fame. Really, it had just been a convenient method to make a bit of coin while pursuing their own growth, and make a few connections while they were at it. Kaius supposed that none of them should have been entirely surprised. It came with being Silver.

Still, he had other questions on his mind. Porkchop had mentioned that there were more skills being shared than just the ones he had given to the guild. By the time he had arrived back at the dusty stables, there hadn’t been time to ask after it. And in any case, he suspected that neither Porkchop nor Ianmus or Kenva knew.

“If we must be presented, then we must be presented,” Kaius said. “But tell us what will be in the announcement at least. I was told there is more being shared than simple Honours — and the skills I passed over.”

Rieker grinned. It was an enthusiastic smile, bright and wide. “Oh yes. It is just as much a surprise to me as it would be to you.”

Kaius blinked. He’d half-suspected that given their positions, Rieker and Ro would have been directly involved in these new acquisitions. But it seemed like that wasn’t the case.

“Olmos really used everything you gave him, it seems. Of all of the grandmasters, he is amongst the most seasoned, especially in the sphere of politics. He utilised everything — and what a turnout it was. Of course, there were no real outrageous legacy skills, but he managed to secure just over a dozen others, with a few reaching as many as four or five mergers.”

“What?” Ianmus gasped.

Kaius understood the mage’s surprise. That was… unprecedented. Legacy skills, so jealously guarded. Sure, there were some that were more widely known, such as Identify or Mana Manipulation, but that many?

Rieker nodded. “That’s even ignoring the more commonly known mergers. A full nine of those were gathered as well. Most came from within the guild’s ranks. Even one from Ro and I. Though… I will not say which. When you front up that much, well…” He shrugged. “The guild, by nature, is an institution of independents. There are more than a few of us old fogies who have our own secrets not bound by the oaths of dynasties. We couldn’t exactly let ourselves be shown up by young bucks now, could we?”

Beside the guildmaster, Ro smiled as she saw Kaius’s shocked look. “There’s more than that,” she said. “Nearly two hundred skills of the more mundane variety were gathered, all between Rare and Unusual. Plus multiples of that for Uncommon and Common.”

That was too much for Kaius. He stepped back, slumping down into one of the many chairs in the room.

“So many?” he whispered.

“By the bloody Matriarchs, finally!” Porkchop said with a chuff, sitting down next to him. “I was beginning to think there was some sort of chronic head injury that you all suffered from. A den does not survive long when those of the most potential are hampered by simple lack of knowledge.”

Rieker chuckled at the jab. “I think it has become more than clear over the last year. Perhaps it is a sentiment that only becomes obvious when life is more uncertain. The Arboreal Sea is, after all, a far more wild place than the kingdoms of central Vaastivar. Or at least it was.”

Kaius just shook his head. He still couldn’t believe it. He’d known that something similar had occurred in Dawntown, but out there on the edge of the known world, people were close-knit and used to working together. Something like this, spreading all over Vaastivar… it was almost impossible to believe that he had a hand in such change.

Kenva shook her head in disbelief. “That might just be enough to lift the city’s spirits.”

“Aye, that’s the idea,” Rieker agreed. “Honours should give the guard and our delvers something to strive towards. With these skills, that’s hope for the next generation — and insurance that those who would want to change their fates can, if they’re just willing to put in the effort. Now let us get out there. The hall will be full by now.”

Kaius looked up to meet Rieker’s eyes, and was surprised by what he found. Pride. Its presence straightened his spine.

“Let’s go,” he agreed with a nod, rising to his feet.

….

To Kaius’s great and utter relief, Rieker had not forced them to stand at the front and centre of the stage. Instead, they were at the back to one side — present and visible, but merely observing.

The underground hall was packed, despite its immense size. It was an incredible sight. Hundreds of delvers, from Copper to Steel, gathered around every table. Many were geared, fully armoured with their weapons belted at their sides, yet just as many could almost pass as average, everyday citizens — if not for their warriors’ physiques, and the fact that they held themselves with the steely bearing of fighters despite the recent bad news.

It was, at once, an inspiring sight. So many people, willing to commit to a life of combat and battle. On the other, it was worrying. The contents of the room were without a doubt Deadacre’s premier fighting force — mere hundreds to defend a city of fifty thousand.

He did note, however, that the delvers in front of him were far stronger and far more seasoned than when he had first arrived in the city.

While he wasn’t so rude and inappropriate as to start identifying people willy-nilly, most of the assembled wore their guild emblems somewhere visible. And with his strength, his sense for the power that people possessed had grown sharper and sharper.

With a start, he realised that there were barely any Coppers — and the ones that there were were new to him, and young.

The Steels, too. Once, that had been a lofty rank that few ever attained before they were old and grey. The hundredth level was a major milestone. And yet now… there had to be dozens of teams.

A good sign for their prospects in the coming times, at the very least.

At the podium, Rieker cleared his throat, his basso filling the hall and silencing the soft whispers of the arrayed delvers.

“Thank you for joining me. I know many of you will be worried, and wonder after our plans for the defence of our city. However, that is not why I have called you here. In response to the phase change, the guild has been planning; we have, through recent developments, known that the old ways are insufficient for a new world. I have two things to share with you today, both of which I hope will buoy your spirits. The first will make us strong — though unfortunately not in time for our upcoming siege. The second will bring advantages beyond what you could possibly imagine.”

As Rieker started to speak, the entire hall hung off his words.

The guildmaster waved his hand, and artifice built into the podium activated. Above him, the illusory recreation of a chalkboard seemed to cement into existence.

On it were listed skills — nearly the first two dozen clearly signed as legacy skills, with their merged requirements sitting beneath them.

“For our children, and the delvers of tomorrow: the guild is releasing the skill list across Vaastivar, so that all will have the resources to prove their capability,” Rieker continued.

From silence, the hall broke into chaos. Warrior, mage, and ranger alike launched to their feet across the hall, yelling questions while others broke into hushed whispers, gesturing wildly to their teams.

The reaction was understandable, considering it was revealing public knowledge of nearly two dozen legacy skills. Hells, Kaius himself couldn’t help but wonder what the implications of this might be.

The institutions of Vaastivar were old, some rare few old enough to trace their heritage to the dark days that followed the shattering. Secrecy had been a tenet for thousands of years — the primary method through which the nobility and well-off of the world secured their advantage over others. A public store of skill knowledge was big, almost as big as the phase change itself.

There was a niggling feeling in the back of his throat… how would those cemented powers take this change? Their greatest advantage spread to all.

With the list that Rieker had projected in the air with a great illusion, anyone would be able to fill their general skills with the kind of abilities that would make a duke jealous.

Only time would tell what the outcome would be. Kaius could only hope that the guild was prepared for the blowback.

And to think that this was something that would have no personal impact on any of those gathered.

How would the guild react when Rieker mentioned Honours? Those were a reward potentially available to any of the gathered warriors before him.

B4 Chapter 477: Guild Announcements, pt. 1

A/N: 2/3

Stepping back onto the streets of Deadacre, Kaius was returned to a smog of tension and fear.

Thankfully, the veteran runewrights he had been asked to assist had corrected their estimations, and were in the middle of a full tune-up of the city’s defences. It had only taken a couple of hours. Two of them had a wealth of experience with the script it used, and while Manthe had only had a little passing familiarity with it, his great-grandfather had been the last runewright to service the large-scale enchantment. Kaius was sure the runewright was familiar with his predecessor's work, and had access to his great-grandfather’s notes on its idiosyncrasies. All Kaius had had to do was lend his skills with mana, and his experience at probing its flow through formations.

They had discovered four dozen problematic regions of the central core of the formation. Age and time had degraded the runes and caused instability — not enough for the reinforcement of the walls to instantly fail, but enough for it to be less efficient, and potentially cause problems if it was stressed too hard and too fast by a singular assault.

Thanks to the quick turnaround of his work, he was granted full witness to how the city was taking Governor Hanrick’s news that an army of beasts was coming.

It had only been a few hours since the governor’s announcement, and even in the wealthy districts surrounding Hanrick’s manor, people were rushing through the streets. He could almost see the news rolling through crowds and houses. It was physical — someone rushed into a house, and four more burst out a minute later to carry the news further.

Everywhere he went, people stared at him. Even if he was not dressed in his full suit of armour, he still had his sword belted at his waist, and he still exuded an aura of power.

He couldn’t help but meet some of their eyes. There were just too many of them. He wasn’t sure if he liked what he found there: need, hope, reassurance.

Kaius forced himself to keep his face stoic, and his strides strong and true — despite the awkward numbness of the prosthetic hidden beneath his trousers and boot. It was a projected confidence, but it still helped a little. Giving the crowd a little surety in its defenders was the least he could do.

Inwardly, Kaius simply wanted to sigh. He was one man. Even with his team, potential mage assistance from Mystral, and the other second tiers present in the city, there wasn’t enough. Not to single-handedly beat back an army. People would die, and there wasn’t a lick he could do to change it.

It was the sobering reality that made him question the enthusiasm he’d felt talking with the runewrights earlier. It felt inappropriate to take time to all but gloat.

At least it had earned him some valuable information.

The Collective. It seemed like a useful place, though it might not have been as politically dominant as the guild, given that he hadn’t even heard of it before. If it was an established institution, it would be useful to leverage to spread his discoveries. Too much of his life had been wrapped up in the struggles and problems that had come from people hiding secrets, and leaving no method for others to find them.

He wouldn’t repeat that mistake, especially not when he lived his life by the blade. The risk was far too high that he would meet a violent end.

Ianmus had made mention of writing a treatise with the visiting mages to take back with them to Mystral. Perhaps he should do the same. Sure, the spires were institutions of spellcraft, not runic inscription — but there were ties between the disciplines, and his own art was as much a relative of magery as it was enchanting.

That, at least, would help to protect his discoveries in case Deadacre fell.

Kaius frowned. The beasts hadn’t even been spotted and already he was planning contingencies for if the city fell. He knew it was a wise course, but it was still a little too close to defeatism for his taste.

As he passed from the intricately carved stone manors of the central district to the more varied wooden and stone constructions surrounding them, Kaius saw that the working men of the city were just as worried as its wealthier inhabitants. But there was industry there too. Even far from the industrial and delving districts, you could hear the ringing of blacksmiths’ hammers, and catch the acrid smog of alchemical by-products.

There wasn’t just fear on the faces of the men that tore across the streets, rushing from place to place. Their brows were furrowed with determination, and their jaws set with stubborn resolve.

The city was preparing itself to fight.

By the gods, so would he — regardless of his missing leg, or his worries about his effectiveness in a full-scale siege. He was one of the strongest people in Deadacre. He had war magic, and more.

He knew, intensely and irrevocably, that his purpose was the struggle and the climb. If he did not leverage that steadfast resolve in the defence of others when they needed it most, what kind of man could he call himself?

Some, he knew, would flee the city, and he did not blame them. Governor Hanrick had made it clear that even if the monumentally powerful mages that headed the Mystral Council were unable to lend their personal strength in the defence of the city, they would welcome any and all who sought to shelter in the reaches of their walls.

Yet it was still a risk. The tyrant’s influence had drained the frontier east of the city of beasts — but the west, towards the Wildgard Mountains and Mystral beyond, was still a land of terrors. Many would lack the resources and strength to feel confident in making the journey. Even with a mass exodus, there was a certainty to city walls; and given that Hanrick, in his speech, had said that shelter would be found beneath the city— no. Plenty of innocents would remain.

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Kaius felt a brush of awareness at the back of his mind.

Porkchop reaching out. While there were limits to his brother’s natural telepathy, their bond dissolved almost all of them.

“Are you alright?” Porkchop asked.” I can tell you’ve finished with the formation, but you went from interested and excited to all bothered. What’s happened?”

“It’s just the city. It’s like a madhouse,” Kaius replied. “People are readying themselves, but for every one that looks prepared to go down swinging, there’s another five that look terrified. I’m worried for them, Porkchop. Personal strength isn’t enough in a war.”

“Not yet, but maybe one day,” Porkchop replied.

Kaius did his best to school his expression. He was still the object of much attention as he made his way back to the dusty stables. No point frowning at nothing. 

“We are far from the peak, Kaius. Think of Xenanra. Or Ekum. When we ascend ourselves, would it not be trivial to prevent something as mundane as a siege?”

Kaius slowed his steps, thinking it through. While he had come to terms with the fact that he had set himself on a path to the peak, it was often difficult to remember just what that truly meant.

There was more to it than simple absolute strength — there was an element of supremacy that was undeniable. As a Silver, he could count himself amongst the most powerful on the continent. A strength that was practically mythical to the average person, even if he discounted the advantages of a Heroic class and his many Honours.

And if he reached the third tier? The fourth? Whatever reaches lay beyond that? He may as well be a god — there was little difference between that and ascendancy to the common man.

Yet what help was potential, strength that might one day be, for the good people of Deadacre? What of the man a dozen strides ahead of him, desperately clutching two sacks of flour as he watched every passer-by like they would gut him for his goods? The mother on the corner, blinking away tears even as she spoke kind words to her young son — a child whose face was blanched with dread?

Hells, even the number of blades and bludgeons he’d seen belted on hips had quintupled in the last day alone.

“I suppose that even if that is the case in the future, it does not help us here and now,” he finally responded.

“Perhaps,” Porkchop replied. “But it is best we keep it in mind. Failure is not a certainty, and as our journeys continue, we can pride ourselves on the lives we can save. You should remember that here and now, as you put it, we will save many. To them, our efforts will mean the world, and we should not forget it.”

Porkchop’s words sat heavy within him. There was truth and wisdom in the sentiment, and he could admit that the thought did bring him some solace.

But it was impossible to ignore the totality of what the city faced.

“Oh, one more thing,” Porkchop added.

“Yes?”

“We received word from Rieker and Ro. They’ve called the guild to attendance in only a few hours’ time. Olmos gave them the go-ahead to accelerate their plans on sharing Honours and legacy skills — so the… unrest in the city will not end for some time yet.”

That was enough for Kaius to let out a breath of relief. Good. That, too, would give the city hope. And while legacy skills would not change the war— skills were not overly helpful for those who had already obtained their classes — there were likely thousands of unclassed in the city. The skills he had shared might just be enough to help keep them alive in the coming days, and the knowledge of Honours would give the warriors who fought in the city’s defence something to strive and hope for.

“That’s not the only thing.” Porkchop said.

Kaius could practically feel Porkchop grinning in his mind. 

“We were told that Olmos leveraged the secrets we shared with him. It was rare, but the guild’s reach is far. They managed to secure more skills.”

Kaius halted mid-stride, in the middle of the street. As hurried and stressed as his fellow pedestrians were, it didn’t stop them from staring at him curiously.

“He what?”

B4 Chapter 476: Runewrights, Finale

A/N: Posting three chapters for yesterday, today, and tomorrow. 1/3

Standing deep in the bowels of the governor’s manor, Kaius locked eyes with the grey-bearded runewrights. While he could have taken the outburst as rude, he wasn’t enough of a fool to do so — no matter how much the chamberlain, Fyfen, looked like he wanted to keel over in embarrassment.

Tradesmen — even ones as specialised and knowledgeable as runewrights — weren’t exactly known for their highly polished etiquette. Besides, he’d probably react the same in their shoes. It wasn’t often some too-strong youngster turned up with runes carved into their bloody face, let alone ones that were so clearly completely foreign and complex.

“The system calls it a glyph — they’re specialised body formations,” Kaius said with an easy grin.

The runewright named Garth snorted. “Body formations my bloody arse — things are so bloody titchy that there’s only four documented methods of keeping them reliably stable. That has none of them. By the dead ground beneath my feet, it doesn’t even have any Simenoan to keep it stable!”

One of the other runewrights nodded. “Aye. It’s interfacing with your mana all wrong too. Too static, too dense — not flowing right, and I can’t see any evidence of passive effects. There’s always a tell. Always.”

The runewrights seemed to have almost forgotten he was there, focused entirely on the mysteries of the inscription visible on his face. Kaius was having the time of his life, grinning wildly at just how stumped the old men were.

The second runewright who had spoken paused for a moment, giving him a sheepish smile. He tugged at one of the braided lengths of his beard. “Runewright Manthea — though most call me Manthe. You’ve already got Garth’s name, and the quiet one is Lorne.”

Kaius politely inclined his head. “A pleasure to meet you, Runewright Manthe. Fyfen’s already introduced me, but I suppose you could call me Glyphbinder Kaius.”

His words had the desired effect. The runewright, Garth, scowled again. “What does that even mean? Come on, man. This is cruel. Don’t give it to yourself.”

Kaius laughed. As much as he wanted to keep teasing them, they were here to do an important job — though he did intend to savour every moment of his telling.

“Like I said, the system calls them glyphs. Glyphbinding is the art of inscribing and using them, much like a runewright inscribes through normal formations.”

He tapped the central part of the glyph on his temple, the permanent formation where just under a dozen spells coiled off its edges. “It’s for spellcasting — the central array and controller that is permanent and bound to me, with additional formations, one for each cast of a spell.”

All three of the runewrights frowned. They’d made an assumption — one Kaius had thought was likely, and one that was utterly incorrect. He grinned.

“But… why?” the runewright — Lorne — said. “It must be astonishingly inefficient. Why go through all that effort when you could just learn to cast like a normal mage? You’re more flexible. Stronger. Easier. Hells, the channelling time would be much faster too. I get that — probably means you can focus more of your skills on fighting armoured as you are — but what’s the point? It’s not like you could channel up close anyway.”

There it was. That fundamental reason he had pursued this in the first place — and something that Kaius very much enjoyed explaining, their misconceptions.

Even Fyfen, standing politely to the side while they got acquainted, was looking at him with curiosity.

Seeing his wide grin, the runewrights narrowed their eyes.

“Because,” Kaius paused, drawing the moment out, “I do not need to channel.”

All of the effort went into their inscription. “And when I wish to cast, I simply will it so. Hence why they have so much mana tied up in them. They sequester a portion of my pool.”

“Impossible!” Garth spluttered, nearly stamping his foot. “You seek to tug on our beards — make fools of us! You cannot simply violate one of the most basic rules of spellcasting, no matter how complex those runes look!”

Ah. Vindication was a sweet thing. It wasn’t often that somebody was told by a seasoned professional of their craft that they’d managed to do the impossible — especially not with so much vehemence.

He’d witnessed disbelief before, of course. Ianmus most of all. But Ianmus was a mage, not a runewright. There were certain subtleties to the art they just couldn’t appreciate in the way that they deserved.

“Not impossible. Just ruinously complex. I can show you, if you would like. Most of my spells have a more combat-centred focus, but Eirnith is visible, and its spells are harmless, in a sense.”

“You are serious, then? This is no bluff?” Manthe said, incredulous, the formation at their feet forgotten as he circled round the edge of the room to approach Kaius, his eyes drilling into Eirnith the entire time.

“I’m serious,” Kaius replied. “One of my Eirnith spells is Compel Obsession. It forces a target’s attention to something of my choosing. I largely use it for distractions in battle to create openings. But if you would like, I can use it on you and set your attention to the glyph — though, at this point, I’m not sure if you would notice much difference.” He gave the man a teasing grin.

“Please. You’re a Silver of repute with the guild. You say it is not harmful, then it is not harmful. Besides, I must experience this for myself.”

Before Kaius could respond, he heard a polite cough behind him — the chamberlain, Fyfen.

“I beg your pardon, but is this most appropriate? I understand that this is novel, but the city formation needs inspection.”

Garth waved the man off immediately. “Bah. If he’s managed that, then we will have this tuned in no time. Even if he’s a bumbling fool and knows nothing of the formation itself, we’ve already derived its function while you were fetching him. We need a bit more magical oomph to find the flaws where the runes have degraded. If he’s telling the truth, then I have no doubt he’ll have the stats and skills to do that. We’ll have this thing fixed in a few hours.”

The chamberlain shot Kaius a questioning look, to which he gave the man a nod. If that’s all they needed him for, it was something he was more than confident in. His mental stats were outsized, and he had a good mana manipulation skill that was far more suited for internal work, for obvious reasons. He’d had experience teasing out formations that were far more complex and finely wrought than this one — albeit perhaps not quite so large.

Fyfen sighed in relief. “In which case, I will leave you to your work and your demonstration. I have far more matters to attend to.” The man nodded at the other runewrights. “I’ve already left you with an artefact to notify me once you are done. I’ll come to lead you out of these chambers and secure them behind you.”

“Go with the gods, chamberlain,” Garth said as the man abruptly left, hurrying down the halls and out of sight.

As soon as he rounded the corner, all three of the old men snapped back to Kaius, drilling him with their eyes.

“This Compel Obsession. Show us. I need to see it with my own eyes,” Garth hissed.

“All of you?” Kaius questioned.

Their only responses were a simultaneous nod.

“Well, all right then,” Kaius said.

Taking a breath, he reached for the bound mana in his glyph. Targeting each of the elderly runewrights, he drove his will into Compel Obsession, urging the men to focus on the glyphs on his temples and the individual inscriptions of the spells he had cast as they burned away.

Bound mana exploded forth, ripping through the conduits of his glyph. His excess energy was vented into a shower of harmless sparks that were visible to manasight. Kaius felt his spells take hold. He was careful, monitoring them closely. Compelled Obsession was a heady thing, and he had no intention of keeping it active for long. After a few breaths of time, he released the effect.

Though, much as he had anticipated, it was impossible to tell, given the absolute fervour with which the runewrights stared at the mana that erupted from his glyphs.

“That…” Garth said, awestruck. “You weren’t bloody lying.”

His companion, Lorne, slumped, leaning on the wall of the room to steady himself. “Did you see it? The way the mana moved? It flowed into his skin.”

Manthe just stared at Kaius with a slack jaw.

It would have been very, very hard to hide the glee that boiled over within him — but finally getting to share his achievements with people who would truly appreciate their magnitude… he, of course, did not try to.

After a few moments, the runewright Garth blinked, his eyes focusing. “This script is too divergent, too strange. You did not invent this, did you?”

Kaius shook his head. “I wish I was that good. No. My father derived this art from fundamentals. He passed before I was able to glean more of his knowledge, but he was a grand master inscriptionist — if not of an even higher pedigree than that, I am sure. Most of my unclassed period was focused on ensuring that I could inscribe the glyph he had devised. Of course, I was focused on blending glyphbinding with a martial discipline, so I’ve received a hybrid class.”

All three of the runewrights nodded. “System-derived, then. A shame. But perhaps true mastery would be too much to ask for in this circumstance.”

Kaius held back the urge to roll his eyes. He was pleased with his achievements , but he should’ve expected a little crafter elitism surrounding the practical nature of his class. Most runewrights who practised using only system-granted abilities were considered something of hacks, after all.

“How does it function?” Lorne asked.

“Three-dimensional runes. And I’m still piecing together the structure of the script, but it is inordinately complex — even compared to something like Exarnage, which I do have some mastery of.”

Once again, his words seemed to strike the runewrights like a hammer blow.

“Three-dimensional,” Manthe whispered. “That… how would you even begin?”

“How was it even discovered in the first place, more like?” Garth said.

Kaius nodded. He’d wondered the same thing for a long time. Garth said it, and he had something of an answer for it. “I’ve seen two places I might suggest development along those lines.”

“Deep in the Depths, I’ve seen a structure that has come with the new change of the phases. Some of the system runes precipitated something like crystal. They were three-dimensional but shifting — potentially of an even higher order. It was possible inspiration was drawn from there, just like the earliest examples of our traditional art were drawn from system inscriptions on artefacts and Depths gateways.”

“Fascinating,” Garth said, “but working backwards from something even more complex than three-dimensional runes seems unlikely.”

Kaius nodded. It was true. While the runes he had witnessed in the Crucible were not quite so terrifying and terrible as the great rune, Vos, that he had learned, they were still mind-bending and inordinately complex. While such things might prove that other geometries of runic construction were possible, that was about all they would do.

“I’ve seen something almost similar — an Imperial artifice. They use a layered construction. Multiple formations stacked vertically. Connections between them. It’s not quite a truly three-dimensional — it is a half-step on the path.”

“That… that could work. The demands on the script would be inordinately high,” Lorne muttered.

“Now hang on just a minute there. You can’t just gloss over the fact that you mentioned… Imperial runes. You managed to crack that mystery too?” Garth said.

Kaius laughed. “Crack it? Not in the slightest — damn things have so many redundant ways to destroy themselves that I about tore my hair out. But witness it? Well, that’s a different story. One benefit of being good in a fight is that it leaves you with plenty of automata to pick apart before the formations have had too much time to degrade.”

“Codswallop,” Garth said, scowling. “This is too much excitement for my damn old heart. Yes — you’ve given us much to think about, boy, and you’re far more open than most would be. You plan on spreading… these inventions?”

Kaius shrugged. “I only hid them in the first place because of how weak I was. Besides…” He gestured at his temples. “Gonna be a bit hard to hide them now.”

The runewrights cracked a smile.

“God’s damn right it’s going to be hard. You’re bloody lucky you’re in a place like Deadacre — not too many of us out here go to any real city. You’ll have a damn small army of runewrights following you around. Even if you were inclined to secrecy, I’d recommend registering these discoveries with the Collective, just to keep your own peace and quiet.”

“The Collective?” Kaius questioned.

Each of the runewrights looked at him like he’d sprouted a third head.

“You can’t seriously be trying to tell us that you’ve made some of the largest headways into one of the greatest runic mysteries Vaastivar has ever seen, discovered an entire new branch of the art, and you’ve never even heard of the bloody Collective.” Manthe’s face scrunched with confusion. “Where did you grow up? Middle of the woods or something?”

Kaius coughed and tried to move past the comment quickly. “I’ve lived an eventful life. Let’s just leave it at that. What is this Collective?”

“It’s a union of runewrights. Has branches in most major cities. It’s not quite as large and official-like as the Delvers’ Guild — it’s mostly a way for us to collaborate and make progress in various different spheres of the art, and a way for people to share or sell their own formation designs. The Collective’s extremely strict on licensing designs, and publishes blacklists of folk who try to pilfer designs without their makers’ approval — makes ’em the best place for innovators to grow wealthy and strong on their developments.”

That sounded interesting. It would certainly be a good place for him to spread knowledge as he wanted, or even find collaborators to help him pick apart the secrets of Vesryn runes.

“Where can I find them?”

“They’re in just about every city in the dukedoms. There’s one in Mystral too, of course. Grandbrook has an office, but it’s more of a place to lodge claims than a true branch.”

Kaius nodded thankfully. “Well. I’ll have to check it out when me and my team make our way to Greenseed.”

The runewrights nodded.

“We best get on with our work, I suppose. We weren’t lying just to get them out of our hair when we told Fyfen that we’d already familiarised ourselves with the formation. It should only take us a few hours. Perhaps we can discuss more about this glyphbinding while we work.”

Kaius nodded, smiling. That did sound nice.

B4 Chapter 475: Runewrights, pt. 2

A/N: Second chapter of the day

The governor’s manor, it seemed, was far more than just what was visible above ground. While its foundations were built into a slight rise that gave the large stone building a view of the surrounding city, they descended far deeper than that.

This section of the governor’s compound seemed old. While the stone was the same aged brick, it lacked the veneer of modernity. There were no tapestries or wooden panelling — only foundation sturdy enough that it looked like it might survive a dragon attack.

Kaius was surprised that they didn’t butt up against the old catacombs that he had descended through on his way to the Imperial ruins. Hells, maybe they did. The stone looked similar enough.

Yet despite the clear rarity of its use, ahead of him the chamberlain walked with purpose, taking corners and unlocking doors like he had memorised the entire floor plan.

So good was the man’s knowledge that it had taken them a bare five minutes to get from their secluded balcony overlooking the packed courtyard where the governor had made his speech — cutting through the buildings, servants’ halls, out a back entrance into the governor’s manor, and then finally down.

Some of that, of course, was their fleet pace. The chamberlain all but jogged. Although Kaius found himself barely having to break a casual stroll to keep up with the man. The benefits of more than a dozen honours and a hundred levels, he supposed.

“Which formation? What are we working with? And who else will be helping to check on it?” Kaius said. “I am something of a combat specialist, and while my raw abilities are good, I hope that you have others that I may lean on for their technical expertise.”

The chamberlain didn’t break stride, taking a hard right to cross into another hall lit by only the dim luminance of occasional ward-lights. They were dull things, clearly designed for infrequent maintenance rather than comfort and brightness.

“As much as I wish to say that we tout some of the grand artifice fortifying the cities of the Dukedoms and Mystral, that is not the case. While the Frents and Deadacre as a whole have never exactly been poor, we are undoubtedly provincial and small. The formation is a simple thing — fortifying the walls, and helping to spread impacts if something attempts to breach them or the gates. I know little more than that. It’s as old as the walls themselves. There is only aged documentation to help.”

The chamberlain’s voice had a clipped edge to it. Kaius could understand the stress, considering the current circumstances. Fyfen was clearly a man of planning and documentation; organising the defence of a siege and any possible civilian measures to secure the populace must have been working him to the bone.

“And the other runewrights?” Kaius asked.

“Three Steels. Masters of their craft — or at least the closest to that you’ll find in a city like this. They are old and proud, but they have all done trusted work for me and the governor before.”

“They have familiarity with the formation, then?”

The chamberlain audibly winced.

“Not directly. The formation has not been serviced in a hundred and fifty years, when Deadacre and Grandbrook were suffering at the hands of the bandit lord Ralton and his constant raids. Even with the current circumstances, our resources have been stretched thin, and nobody seriously considered that the city might be invaded — not like this. We were fools, it seemed.”

Kaius shook his head. If Fyfen was a fool for not anticipating an invading army of beasts, then they all were. Sure, the strange migration had seemed suspect — but until Dross had brought word, it had seemed outlandish to think that beasts had been enslaved to a malicious will for the purpose of invasion. Hells, they’d first seen the beasts moving away from the city, and when they’d suspected Stangspine, that had seemed like further confirmation that the city was not a target.

Regardless, if neither he nor the other runewrights were already familiar with the formation, the job was much more difficult.

Fyfen seemed to anticipate his misgivings. “What documents we have have been provided to the other runewrights, and they seem confident. Apparently its construction is relatively standard for civil work, and they are all familiar with the script.”

“That’s something at least,” Kaius murmured.

Still, over a century without maintenance, things would have decayed. Depending on the scale of the formation, the other runewrights might just need his help after all. Feeling out the mana flows over so much space was taxing. He hoped that, with his help, they would be able to get it done in time.

Falling back into silence, doors flooded past the two of them, each seemingly identical to the last. Without his keen memory, Kaius was sure he would have long since gotten lost. While Sergeant’s Insight wasn’t totally useless in aiding navigation, it was far less directed towards that ability than Explorer’s Toolkit had been in that regard — a worthy sacrifice for just how much better it had gotten at keeping him and his team safe.

Eventually, the hallways changed slightly. They were more cramped, reinforced by steel brackets. Wooden doors became barred, and Fyfen was soon rifling through his key ring for three keys to unlock each instead of one.

Their final barrier was a solid steel thing, heavily inscribed — a script Kaius recognised, though he didn’t know it personally. Roswainian.

One that had been heavily in use for the better part of seven hundred years as a go-to for physical reinforcement, defensive warding, and other such security measures. It was, in many ways, simplistic — incapable of some of the finer subtleties that could be wrought when somebody invested in more extravagant work, like Old Yon had with his vaults. That said, what it did do, it did well. It was easy to maintain, and had notable longevity in the runic arts.

If the city walls were inscribed with the same script, then it was no wonder that Governor Hanrick hadn’t seen a pressing need to renew the work.

The very sight of it loosened some of the tension in Kaius’s shoulders. A hundred and fifty years was certainly not ideal, but if the formation’s creator had used Roswainian, then it was likely still functional — and repairable, even in the worst of scenarios.

Both the physical locks and the defensive enchantments on the door were already open. Fyfen pushed the heavy thing open, only grunting slightly with the effort.

As it creaked open, a large chamber was revealed, brightly lit with ward-lights. It was circular, its ground made of a single flawless piece of stone that, even without measuring, Kaius could tell was perfectly levelled — a dusky green that faintly emanated mana, likely a natural magical material. A perfect conduit for a large-scale formation.

As he had anticipated, it was covered in Roswainian runes, the entire thing easily stretching twelve long strides across.

There were other scripts too — one he didn’t recognise — but he spotted the distinctive triangular alignments of Simenoan stabilising arrays, with small amounts of Yosh’s Supplementary to integrate them into the overall formation. All three of the additional scripts seemed to be acting in a supportive capacity, though it was hard to tell their level of importance based on his scattered comprehension of traditional runecraft.

The formation wasn’t the only thing in the room. The other runewrights were already there: three old men, dressed in the sturdy cottons and leathers of those who worked with their hands, their grips calloused from handling raw materials and the delicate work of inscription.

The trio was crouched over a section of the formation at the far side of the room, muttering to themselves. They fell silent as Fyfen and Kaius entered, slowly rising to their feet.

“This is who you brought us, Fyfen?” one of them said. “Some babe-faced brute? What’s a warrior going to do to help us with this sort of work, eh? I mean, look at him. He’s—”

The middle runewright trailed off, squinting at Kaius’s face.

Kaius could feel him staring at his temples, and the black lines of his Eirnith inscription. The others stared too, their expressions slowly shifting from confusion to outright befuddlement before they settled on shock.

“What the fuck is that?” the one on the right said, outright pointing at Kaius’s face.

“Craftsman Garth — you forget yourself!” the chamberlain snapped, his eyes flicking to Kaius to check if he had taken offence.

Kaius paid the impropriety no mind, only grinning.

He’d had an incredibly stressful few weeks. He’d escaped a Crucible, slaughtered an enemy that had locked him up and tortured him, learned the name of his father’s killer, delved an Imperial ruin, only to lose his leg — and found that the weight of his legacy was heavier than he’d ever thought.

If that wasn’t enough, he’d found that the city he’d called home for over the last year was about to come under siege by some maniacal beast of a thing, driven only by a progression of the system’s integration that he himself had caused.

Such things could make a man feel tense — perhaps even tightly wound. Yet despite all that, there was one thing he had been looking forward to today.

For far too long, he had been forced to hide his achievements, and, even more importantly, the innovations his father had created and he had put into action. For over a year, he had sat on the secret to an entire divergence of runecraft, one that he hadn’t dared share with any true expert of the art, lest he put himself at risk for the value of the knowledge he held.

Now, he was strong, a Silver that had killed Gold — guardians of the Great Depths, no less. Hells, it wasn’t even a stretch to say he was unparalleled in might for his level. He at least had the capability to defend himself from the avaricious wants of others, especially considering he had no plans to keep glyphbinding a secret for himself alone.

Staring into the eyes of the runewrights, Kaius saw only their burning curiosity, their confusion, and their need to know more.

The very sight of it was nearly enough for him to jump on the spot.

Finally, he could show off a little.

B4 Chapter 474: Runewrights, pt. 1

Kaius kept a brisk pace that was slower than he was used to. Every second step, his weight caused his prosthetic to slip into the soft loam of the governor’s garden.

“Are we close?” Kaius asked, keeping his left hand on Porkchop’s flank just in case he tripped.

“Yeah. The greenhouse she went to must be just on the other side of the manor grounds — five more minutes, tops.”

Kaius nodded, a stiff clench in his chest urging him on. There was no question about it now. The die had been cast — a tyrant was coming. The runner that had met them in the governor’s garden had confirmed it. The far scouts had seen it with their own eyes: beasts, by the thousands upon thousands, slowly making their way in the direction of Deadacre.

Hanrick’s response had been swift. He was making an announcement to the city immediately. Already, Kaius could hear the droning peals of bells ringing from wall to wall inside of Deadacre.

Their cadence was unmistakable — an official announcement. Those who cared to see what would happen, a solid portion of the city no doubt, would be flooding the massive open square at the front of the Governor’s Manor.

They, thankfully, had been given a room and balcony in a building along one flank. Ianmus was already on his way there. At least that was what the runner had said. He and the governor had been together when the news had come, busy with contacting Mystral.

The surroundings passed by in a blur — carved stone and the little greenery that existed in the city alike — as staff and guards swarmed like a kicked-over anthill.

“Boys!” Kenva yelled as they turned a corner.

They hurried over.

“You ready to leave?” Kaius asked.

The ranger nodded. “Porkchop gave me the news a couple of minutes before my runner arrived. I’ve already packed up the arrows I’ve managed to grow. Let’s move.”

They set off, following the directions that their runner had carefully imparted. The man had been surprisingly detailed, and with how clear their memories had gotten with their levels, it was easy to follow them.

“Are you producing as much as you hoped you would?” Porkchop asked as they all but jogged to their destination.

“Almost. The drain on my resources is far less that when I was working with the trees from the Depths, but it’s still a bit more than I would have liked. Like I suspected, the quality of the tree impacts the cost as well as the quality. I should still be producing enough to supply the defenders  — I only managed to empty my pool twice, but I’ve already got enough to fill a couple of barrels.”

That was enough to bring a smile to Kaius’s face. A whole barrel. With that sort of pace, if Kenva dedicated herself, she could damn near store enough arrows for an entire regiment.

“And their performance?” Kaius asked.

“Around uncommon artefact, I think. Nothing fancy — but they’ll fly far and have good penetration.”

Uncommon. That was a surprise. While a dedicated crafter could no doubt create much more effective specimens, Kenva had been churning them out with a hundred-percent success rate, with no consumption of materials. It was a fantastic result.

Most archers made use of mundane materials. If she could make enough that every defender had at least a quiver full of her improved arrows, she would go a long way towards giving the guard a tool for critical threats.

Descending away from the manor, they hit a slight decline and ducked into the surrounding streets. Affluent as this district of the city was, the streets were wide and open. Already they were growing packed — people exiting their houses with confused expressions, and groups slowly making their way to the governor’s square.

Ignoring the looks they drew, Kaius hurried to their destination: a large building at the end of the street. The guards at the entrance let them in without a second glance, and a few minutes of rushing through its halls later, they arrived — a corner room at its highest level, its balcony perfectly positioned to give them a complete view of Hanrick’s podium and the square.

It was shockingly fancy. The kind of place that put the dusty stables to shame. Chairs were scattered across the room, each one a thing of ebony and stuffed, stiff cushions that looked like they would have taken a master upholsterer months to make.

Four staff members busied themselves at one end of the room, setting out a tablecloth on a wide table while others laid an assortment of snacks down atop it.

Kaius barely paid it attention, seeing Ianmus’s towering frame silhouetted against the horizon as he leaned against the railing of the balcony.

“Ianmus,” he called.

“Thank the gods,” the mage replied, turning as they joined him.

“Did you manage to send out the call to Mystral?” Kenva asked.

“Just. Our meeting had finished for all of three minutes before the runner arrived.”

Kaius frowned and nodded. Gods, it felt like watching the approach of a flash flood. The approaching beasts were glacially slow and terrifyingly fast all at once.

“Please tell me the meeting went well, at least,” he said.

Ianmus let out a slow breath. “It did. We will have our cadre. Sunspire, Stone Spire, Oak Spire, and Stormspire are sending ten mages, headed by a handful of Silvers.”

Kaius leaned heavily into Porkchop. “They are? That’s fantastic.” That many accomplished mages would be phenomenal, let alone a Silver assistant. Hells — a stone or earth mage alone would be pivotal. In a siege, their ability to fortify, repair, and create defences could be the very thing that secured their victory.

“When are they coming?”

“Soon,” Ianmus replied. “Selecting and organising the cadre will take some time, but with Stormspire it is likely the actual journey will not take them long. They gave us an oath that the Ophelia herself would ensure swift transport — she’s renowned for her flight capabilities.”

“The Spire Masters, they won’t assist directly?”

“No. They’re spooked — worried about their own holdings. Besides, they have their hands full. Apparently, Mystral’s strongest have been busy defending against beasts from the deep.”

Sea monsters. Gods. Kaius almost preferred the idea of the siege that was coming for them. There was a reason people did not traverse the oceans lightly. The creatures that lived there were great and terrible, and dwarfed anything that could be found on land.

“The cadre will be enough,” Kaius said. “From what we’ve heard, the worst of the beasts are low steel. The true threat is the Tyrant. Between us, Arc, Rieker, and Ro? We should have it handled, even if it is holding a handful of stronger creatures in reserve.”

“I bloody hope you’re right,” Kenva said, leaning on the balcony’s railing to watch the crowd stream into the square.

“There’s one more thing,” Ianmus added, looking directly into Kaius’s eyes. “We should expect questions. My headmaster noticed my strength immediately, and we will not be able to hide our unique methods of spellcasting in a full blown siege.”

Kaius paused. “I can live with that. I never intended to keep glyphbinding secret forever. I’ll be happy to explain if they ask.”

“I thought you would be. But I am more worried about our sudden strength. The guild has yet to spread word on Honours — that would help to explain our power.”

Ianmus was right. “Rotten roots, I’ll need to get Rieker to do so, then.”

Plus, as he thought about it, Kaius realised an invasion by a gods-damned tyrant was exactly the sort of situation that might lead to some of the defenders earning honours of their own.

“Actually, we should make that a priority.” He glanced at Porkchop. “Is it close enough for you to speak with them directly?”

Porkchop shook his head. “Too many people. Though if he joins Hanrick on his balcony, I imagine he would. I’ll be able to.”

Kaius nodded. “Good. The second he does, let him know that he should make honours part of the announcement — or release them shortly after. The risk’s too high if somebody gains one during the siege.”

As if the gods themselves were listening, across the square,on a high balcony of the manor, the governor appeared. Whether by spell or enchantment, when the man clapped it resonated loudly enough that it sounded as if he was standing directly in front of Kaius. Behind him, Kaius could see the captain of the guard, as well as Arc, Rieker, and Ro.

“There he is. Do it now.”

“Done.”

A heartbeat later, Rieker bent down, whispering something in Ro’s ear. Her eyes snapped to Kaius’s. She gave him a nod.

Not now. Soon. A guild announcement. Tomorrow. Ro mouthed the words quickly — only someone with a sharp ocular skill and high stats would have been able to see it.

Kaius nodded.

“You catch that?” he said to Kenva.

“Yep,” she replied. “I wonder what’ll cause more of a hubbub. The war, or the hidden secrets.”

Kaius snorted.

Once again, Hanrick clapped, and the gathered crowd below finally fell silent.

“My good people of Deadacre. I come to you with grave tidings—”

Kaius let out a heavy breath. Hopefully the governor was a skilled enough politician to avoid frightening the crowd and sending them into a panic.

…

“That could have been worse,” Porkchop said, nibbling a piece of braised beef he’d lifted from the table of food that had been laid out for them.

“Could have been worse?” Kaius responded incredulously. “Hanrick may as well have announced that the sun was going to explode. It was a damn near riot.”

“He’s got a point,” Kenva replied. “The fact it wasn’t a riot is genuinely quite impressive.”

Kaius sighed and sipped at a sweetened wine before taking a bite of the cracker he’d laden with cold cuts and diced pickle. The pair of them were right, but it was a damned low bar to clear.

“Hanrick’s speech was about as good as it could have been,” Kaius admitted. There were only so many ways you could tell people that an army of rabid, hungry beasts up to a full hundred levels above their own were descending on their home.

It was hard to forget the ripple of shock and panic that had rolled over the crowd. Gods, he understood it. Even with their strength, it was a bitter pill to swallow. War was the twin brother of death, and where it went, the other would follow. How many innocents would they lose due to the cruel realities of the integration? 

Downing the rest of his glass, Kaius heard a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he called.

It opened to reveal the governor’s chamberlain. Stepping inside, the man gave them a short bow.

“I hope, regardless of the circumstances, you have been able to enjoy the amenities…?”

They let out a collective wince.

“That might be a bit of a tall ask, but the food is phenomenal,” Kaius replied. 

“I suppose that is the best I could hope for, with war on its way.” The chamberlain inclined his head. “Regardless, I am sorry to interrupt, but I would make a request of your presence, Kaius.”

He sat up. “Oh?”

“I have gathered the senior runewrights of the city to inspect the central formation for the city’s defences. They are ancient and long maintained, but it’s been an age since they were last used, and I would hate to see them fail. You seemed like a reasonable person to join such a party.”

The chamberlain looked pointedly at the glyphs that spilled across Kaius’s temples and down his cheekbones.

Kaius nodded — while he was not an expert in traditional runes, he was familiar with them, and the simple potency of his skills and the height of his stats would go far. He would, at least, make a good assistant for the other runewrights.

“Will the three of you be alright without me for a few hours?” Kaius asked his brother silently.

“Of course — we’ll meet you back at the stables,” Porkchop replied.

Kaius gave the chamberlain a nod. “I would be happy to do what I can. Show me the way?”

A/N: got that little snafu fixed up lol. Going out for lunch and a little christmas shopping, will edit and post another chapter when i'm back

Posts in a few hours

Have discovered that my current beta reader document of 90 chapters + comments hard crashes my laptop -- home pc supercomputer has allowed bad habits to pile up lmao. Gonna borrow my stepdads desktop to trim it to a non-crashing size and make some edits, but might take a couple hours

Double post tomorrow

Gotten a little caught up in holiday business so haven’t had a chance to hop on my laptop and edit a chapter today

Also Sydney is approximately the same temperature as the surface of the sun and my brain is Swiss cheese

B4 Chapter 473: War Room, Finale

Kaius sat in the governor’s private garden, resting his back against a large tree. Porkchop was with him, and the sun was shining bright, filtering through the green leaves above to bless him with a gentle summer’s warmth.

The place was undeniably beautiful — a walled-in open stretch at the back of the manor, covered in a smattering of oaks, elms, and three dozen or more varieties of flowering bush. In many ways it was small, only a bare fifty longstrides across — but the reason for that was obvious.

Enchantments lined the garden’s walls, fortifying and supporting the growth of the plants within. He had to admit, it was an ingenious solution against the draining effect that had killed all plant life surrounding Deadacre. He doubted that its creators had known the cause was an experimental mana reactor buried deep beneath the city, but it was still clever. 

Clever, and expensive to maintain.

But as far as frivolities went, it was a minor bit of luxury — and one that he currently enjoyed the fruits of.

It should have been relaxing, yet Kaius found it impossible to quiet his mind.

War. It was almost impossible to believe that it had come to Deadacre. The city was far too remote and insignificant to draw the eyes of men hungry for influence and power. But such concerns mattered little in the eyes of beasts.

He shook his head, trying to banish the thoughts — a difficult endeavour, considering he’d just sat through two hours of logistical and military planning.

Shifting his position, a sudden drag of his prosthetic against the grass drew his attention. Of all the bloody times to be set back by such an injury, it had to be now — when he might be forced to go up against a tyrant. Any day now.

He’d made time to spar with Arc and Rieker, so he could do his best to get used to the movement and the stress of combat. But they were both busy men, and a few days of practice wouldn’t change the fact that he had no sensation. His footwork was horrible.

At least he and Porkchop got a moment to just breathe. Ianmus and Kenva were not so lucky.

After the meeting, Ianmus had gone with Hanrick to contact Mystral’s Council of Mages. They might not have had direct confirmation of the beasts’ movements just yet, but the sooner they could confirm whether they would receive the assistance of a mage cadre, the better.

Kenva’s endeavour, at least, seemed a little less fraught. She’d asked the chamberlain if Hanrick’s estate was in possession of any living trees of magical origin. When the man had confirmed the existence of a secure greenhouse towards the back of the grounds, she’d all but demanded access.

Every spare scrap of mana she had could be used to sing arrows from its trunk. Considering the size of her pool, and the fact that the tree was only moderately magically potent, she could practically pump them out by the barrel. Backed by a capstone skill, each projectile was still potent — far beyond the quality that most had access to. As she would no doubt produce more than she could ever use, even in an extended siege, it might just prove an edge that could save the lives of the men manning the walls.

While he was comfortable with his teammates focusing on their own endeavours, Kaius couldn’t help but feel uneasy given the recent news that they might have to split up for the battle.

“What’s got you by the tail?” Porkchop asked, nudging him.

Kaius grunted. “I just don’t like the idea of splitting up. We saw that wave first-hand, and it completely overran the defences of Old Yon’s compound. For all we know, the beasts will be stronger and even more numerous. We’ve gotten stronger too — but we’re strongest together.”

“True,” Porkchop replied. “But this will be different from our normal battles. We’ll be one among thousands, and we’ll be defending walls, not fighting on open ground. There’s too much ground to cover as a unit. By the Matriarchs, I won’t even be able to help unless there’s a breach.”

“It sounds like you’ll still have plenty to do.”

From the plans they’d come up with, Porkchop would be something of a linchpin among the high-level defenders. With his Mentis geared towards watching battlefield flow, and his innate ability to speak mind-to-mind, he would be perfect to defend where the fighting was thickest. Even Iron could be deadly if wielded correctly.

Rieker, Arc, Porkchop, and himself would focus on supporting the wall’s defenders and reacting to any incursions or breaches. Ro and Kenva would focus on high-value targets and intercepting any airborne enemies. Ianmus was to focus on simple raw devastation — thinning the herds as much as possible with their expensive war magic.

Kaius expected that over the length of the battle, Ianmus would prove hellishly effective at that. The ability for his key seal to draw in its own supply of mana would show its worth over an extended engagement — especially as it freed Ianmus to focus the rest of his mana pool on precision strikes.

Kaius sighed again. He knew it made sense, but he still didn’t like it.

“At least they’ve placed us close together.”

“Of course they have,” Porkchop replied. “You need someone to watch over you while you’re inscribing. It’s not like either of us are going to trust anyone other than me to do it.”

Before he could respond, Porkchop’s ears twitched, and he turned to look across the garden.

“A runner’s coming,” Porkchop said.

Kaius grunted and started pushing himself to his feet. No doubt word from the long-range scouts.

…

Ianmus filed into the communication chamber behind Hanrick. It was within the governor’s own residence, and its existence was only a mild surprise. Deadacre might have been remote and poor in magical resources and strength, but it was not destitute. Situated as it was as the gate to Mystral’s overland route.

Still, the room was not as large or sophisticated as the communication chamber he had visited in the guildhouse. The piece of artifice only dominated half a table rather than most of the entire room.

Hanrick had already explained that the furthest places it could reach were the closest border cities of the Greenseeds— not across the continent like the guild communication network could.

Following the governor in, Ianmus took a seat at the desk next to him. Compared to the rest of the manor, this place was plain: simple stone walls covered in tapestries of burgundy and purple, the colours of Henrik’s office.

Ianmus supposed that the luxury came from having a personal communication chamber at all, rather than how it was furnished. Hells, for all he knew, the simplicity of the space could reduce the burden on the artifice.

He blinked, eyes settling on the empty side of the desk covered in inscriptions. It was hard to believe that he would likely be seeing his headmaster in only a few minutes.

The thought came with a surprising jolt of apprehension, manifesting as he nervously wiped his hands on his robe. There was no doubt in his mind that Headmaster Song would notice his strength. Aura didn’t carry through transmissions like that — but he knew that nothing slipped past that old fox.

How would he even begin to explain? It hadn’t even been two years. Silver would raise questions. And when his fellow Spire mages came, it would be impossible to hide his keyseals — nor would the strangeness of his team’s layered formations and casting slip their notice.

Mystral was built on magic — one of the greatest centres of learning on the continent. Word of their unique approaches would spread instantly. There would be questions. Ones he wasn’t sure he was ready for.

Oh, he never intended to keep the secrets of keyseals to himself, no more than Kaius intended to do that with his glyphs. He was just embarrassed at how little he understood the art. The sacred geometry he could explain as a connection to the soul — but the system was doing much of the heavy lifting for him.

Ianmus suppressed a sigh. He should probably prepare a treatise — something he could share to save himself the hassle of explaining himself dozens of times over. He just hoped they wouldn’t ask him to give a lecture.

With the integration, and the new mysteries surrounding Kaius’s enemies and ancestry, he had far more interesting things on his plate to occupy his attention.

Thankfully, he wasn’t left alone with his thoughts for much longer. After a few more moments, Hanrick seemed done with whatever preparations the communication artefact required. As he sat up from the knot of runes he was hunched over, he spoke.

“I’ve sent the request to the Mystral Council. Usually it only takes them a couple of minutes to respond. As you suggested, I added a request for Headmaster Song to be present. Thank you again for assisting me in this. I have no doubt your presence will make this go smoother.”

“Of course,” Ianmus replied.

Before he could say more, light flickered at the far end of the table, and the hazy images of three elderly mages appeared — two men and one woman. Their robes were elaborate, with detailed embroidery. Ianmus recognised every one of them.

Headmistress Thalia, with her stitchings angled like shattered metal, Headmaster Brumhild, whose robes rippled like ocean swell, And his own headmaster — Song — his robes covered in shining lances.

Headmaster Song snapped his gaze to Ianmus, glancing down to his neck for a moment.

“Impossible,” Song said. “It has not been two years, boy. How have you managed such a thing?”

Ianmus gave his headmaster a weak smile.

“What are you yammering about, old man?” Brumhild said. “You can catch up with your favourite student on your own time. The governor would not have contacted us if it was not something important.”

“The boy is Silver, fool,” Song snapped. “Like I said — it is an impossibility.”

“What?” Headmistress Thalia snapped.

Ianmus suddenly found himself with the full attention of three of Mystral’s council members — the weakest of them Gold.

“Not impossible, Headmaster,” Ianmus said. “Merely the result of maniacal teammates and extensive risk-taking.”

He straightened.

“Regardless, Headmaster Brumhild is right. My own success is of little current importance. A tyrant has been discovered, and it leads an army of beasts to Deadacre. We must enact the Red Cove Compact.”

Gods, he hoped they would believe him.

A/N: Going to Australia to see some family for christmas, might be a little more spotty with post timing, but i'll do my best to queue in advance. Get back a few days before NYE

B4 Chapter 472: War Room, pt. 4

Surrounded by Deadacre’s leadership, Kaius tried to consider how they could ready the city’s defenders for the coming battle.

The city Delve was the obvious option, but it had problems. There was a limitation on how many could reasonably populate the biome it entered into. Plus, with how low-level it was, most would need to make several descents to reach a difficulty where they were getting meaningful levels.

Perhaps with help? He thought he might as well voice the idea.

“Why not the Delve?” he suggested after thinking for a moment. “You could cycle the lowest levels through it — with chaperones. As many as possible. I assume the surrounding biomes are mapped as well. There should be more than enough space if you push laterally. Then, when they’re strong enough, they could push down and another group could enter. Chaperones could help with guardians. You wouldn’t get as much food compared to properly farming the thing, but surely defence is more important at the moment.”

Ro drummed her fingers on the table. “It’s not a bad idea.”

“It is a risk, though,” Henrik contended. “If most of the militia is occupied in a Delve, we might be caught flat-footed. If the beasts arrive while they’re inside—”

“Well, there’s an easy solution to that, isn’t there?” Kenva replied, drawing the table’s eyes. “The city Delve’s what — layer two? Just have a high-Steel team on standby. Even dedicated, I doubt anyone would get lower than five. The right team could blitz down there in a matter of hours, clearing guardians and setting off signal fires. Invest in some communication artefacts for the chaperones. Teams in the outlying biomes could converge on the city Delve to exit through the open portals.”

Rieker nodded. “We’ve got a few teams on our roster who would fit the bill. A couple who focus on swiftness and shock tactics. They could do it fast enough. I’d suggest you guys, but you’ll be too critical to the defence effort.”

“What of the general populace?” Priestess Susanna asked. “The city is full to bursting. Tensions are already high. If the city is surrounded, they could fall to panic. Riots could end us just as swiftly as starvation — or the beasts. Plus, they’re vulnerable. Too many will be lost to simple collateral damage.”

Ro gave Kaius a quick glance — fast enough that only his team, Rieker, and Arc would have caught it. He knew what was on her mind.

The ruin beneath the city.

He hesitated, not out of a desire to protect his own interests, but in how best to manage his suggestion. He was certain that the castellan was on his side. However, the automata itself had said the systems within the ruin were breaking down, and communicating commands could be spotty. If even a single worker drone attacked civilians, it would be a slaughter. No amount of bakers and leatherworkers would be able to stop such a thing. And the panic it would instil — no. This needed to be managed carefully. They needed a week or two for the castellan to finish sealing the lower levels of the ruin and masquerading the upper levels as deactivated.

He still had to say something. The entire room was looking at him and his team now, with how public the pursuit of Old Yon had been. Everyone here knew of the ruin’s existence.

“Below the city,” he finally said. “I cannot testify to the safety of the Imperial ruin. We deactivated it, but there could be stray automata or defences that still linger. However, the maintenance tunnels should be clear. They are large and fortified. And many of them still have functional siege doors. They’d be cramped, unpleasant, and claustrophobic — but safer, at least.”

“You are sure the ruin has been deactivated?” the chamberlain questioned. “If any defences remain, surely an incursion of that scale would trigger them.”

“Utterly certain,” Kaius replied. “I confirmed it myself. However, from experience, it would be best to wait at minimum a week, to give any remnant mana the opportunity to discharge.”

Kaius did his best to keep his face straight as he lied through his teeth.

Reaching through his bond, Kaius nudged Porkchop for his attention.

“Can you let Ro know I’ll need an excuse to go down to the ruins alone? The sooner, the better. I’ll need to inform the chamberlain of the developments. At the very least, those steel doors in the maintenance tunnels need to be able to be operated manually. Any entrances to the ruin outside of the city walls need to be sealed. If we’re lucky, it will hopefully be able to provide some other help for the defence of the city.”

“Of course,” Porkchop replied.

Unaware of the hidden interaction, Hanrick, the priestess, and the governor’s chamberlain let out audible sighs of relief.

“That, at least, is something,” Hanrick replied.

A moment later, Kaius felt a nudge from Porkchop.

“Ro says you should go tonight. She’ll make an excuse if anyone asks. She also said that if the automata are truly unable to operate outside of the ruin, if possible, the castellan should try to reinforce the foundations around the city wall — so that no burrowing beasts can breach that way.

Rotten roots, he hadn’t even thought of that possibility.

“What of our allies, Hanrick?” Susanna said. “Will you be able to pull others over to our defence? We need everything we can get. Grandbrook, perhaps?”

The priestess gave Arc a questioning look.

Even with his natural bone plating obscuring his expressions, it was plain to see that the hirgost was morose.

“This one must provide his apologies. Governor Bartmoss will likely be unable to send aid. Without a standing army, he would be sacrificing his own stability. This one, of course, will stay to aid in the defence.”

Kaius nodded. It hadn’t really been in question, but the confirmation that Arc would fight by their side brought him relief. The man was nearly Platinum, on the cusp of the third tier. He was practically an army unto himself. They would need men like him — for the beasts weren’t the only threat. There was still a tyrant leading them, one that had slaughtered the Silver team with ease.

Hells, Kaius would be surprised if what they had seen was the limit of its forces. Any smart foe held a few advantages in reserve.

“I will contact the Guildmaster of Mystral,” Ro said. “As Arc has said, I believe we cannot expect help from Grandbrook. Any forces from there would be approaching directly towards the beast tide. On open ground that would be suicide. Mystral, though, is slightly closer, and as long as the beasts have not fully encompassed the city, they would be able to approach from the flank. My fellow Guildmaster will not be able to compel assistance, but we would likely see scores of Iron and Steel teams answer the call. Maybe Silver, if we are lucky, though I have heard many of them have been flat out dealing with threats from the Wildguard and Arboreal Sea.”

Henrik slumped into his chair. “Please do so. As soon as you can.”

“What of the Spires?” Ianmus questioned. “They are duty-bound, and mage cadres from the Spires are invaluable during the protracted defence of something like a city.”

Hanrick hesitated. “Those are old oaths… and I fear that Deadacre is seen as little more than a provincial backwater.”

Ianmus shook his head emphatically. “The Red Cove Compact is not so easily forgotten.”

The Red Cove Compact? No doubt it was that old alliance.

Kaius mentally nudged Porkchop. It was convenient having a companion that no one expected to know politics — there was no point in making himself seem ignorant in the current situation if he didn’t have to. 

“What’s that?” Porkchop asked a heartbeat later.

“A seven-hundred-year-old agreement,” the captain of the guard grumbled. “An old pirate lord blockaded the city by sea and seized control of the single pass that allows entry by land through the Wildguards. Fifty-seven rogues and scouts from Deadacre and Grandbrook smuggled supplies to the city for six years using storage artefacts. I still have my doubts, but it is enough for the Spires to rush to our defence.”

“They will,” Ianmus said. “I am sure of it. Allow me to assist with contacting them. The headmaster of Sunspire is on the council. As valedictorian, I have my fair share of interactions with them. They will listen.”

Hanrick gave Ianmus a hesitant nod. “Blighted ground, a single Silver mage from Sunspire could be fate-changing.”

Ianmus grinned. “I am sure you will get one. I have yet to meet a mage from the Hole who would not leap at the opportunity to build fortifications.”

Kenva raised her brow at Ianmus. “The Hole?”

The mage shrugged. “They dug down into the bedrock rather than build up like everyone else.”

Focused on the matter at hand, the chamberlain looked up from his notes. “What about our formations? I assume the guard will man the walls with the militia as support. But how will we manage Delvers?”

“Everyone below Iron should be spread through the rank and file,” Rieker said. “We’ll keep them in their teams, but they’ll be best positioned to move to wherever needs the most support. Steel and Iron and higher will be our elites. We can use them to focus on high-value targets and reinforce wherever is most heavily pressed.”

“And us?” Kaius questioned.

He didn’t just mean his team, but Rieker, Ro, and Arc as well. They were the core strength of the city, far above anyone else. Their movements would be pivotal.

“Our core goal, of course, will be the Tyrant,” Ro said. “As soon as it reveals itself, and we are in a position to strike, we move as one. Until then—” She paused, taking a moment to think. “We should spread ourselves across the walls. We have thousands of lives to look after, and a single one of us could reduce the pressure on the guard and militia where they might otherwise crumble.”

Her gaze settled on Kaius. “You especially. Your war magic will prove invaluable, and you will still be able to use your blade while you wait for your mana to recover. You can always communicate with Porkchop through your bond whenever you need time to re-inscribe — his ability to communicate telepathically will be vital for maintaining coordination between us.”

Kaius shared a glance with his brother.

They wanted them to split up.

He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.

A/N: You ever just randomly sleep through your alarms by five hours for no discernible reason?

If this extra sleep doesn't make it easier to write this arvo, i'm going to riot

B4 Chapter 471: War Room, pt. 3

A/N: Bonus for the chapter I missed on the weekend

The governor's manor was an old thing, and centuries of history lurked in its high, vaulted beams. In some senses, it was as old as the city – though not in its current iteration. Apparently, it had once been a longhouse, back when Deadacre had been little more than a trading outpost on the road to Mystral. 

Even then, the city's bones had been old. Beyond the hardpacked earth that provided a convenient barrier to grazing beasts, there had been stone foundations — the ancient catacombs that they now knew hid an even older imperial ruin. 

Gentile Frent, the governor's ancestor, had been adamant about turning the place into a metropolis. The years since had seen the manor levelled and rebuilt more than once, always the house of the city's leadership. Now it was a reinforced monolith that loomed over the city: a symbol of success, forged out of the nominal destitution of the frontier.

Following behind a butler, Kaius peered at its halls curiously. Blocky and austere stone had been tempered with carved wood panelling, tapestries that lined the walls every few long strides, and a seemingly endless array of portraits. 

Judging by the way the butler kept glancing at them, the man was suppressing the urge to tell them the stories of each and every painted subject. While it might have been standard and appropriate for a normal visitor to the manor to be given the grand tour, the current circumstances were far too urgent.

A bloody war council. How in the hells had he ended up invited to one of those?

It was difficult to adjust to the prominence of his new station. He'd spent his entire life trying to hide who he was, and what he could do. Now he simply walked up to the gates of the governor's manor, and the guards waved him inside without even a second glance.

He could admit that it was convenient, but it still felt strange.

Glancing at yet another portrait, Kaius hoped the long service of the Frents to Deadacre would come with more than just history – alliances, hopefully. Something that would give them an edge against the threats approaching the city.

He knew there were close ties between Grandbrook and Deadacre. Unfortunately, the other major city of the Frontier was far, and poorly positioned; any relief force would likely run into the beast horde before it reached the city walls, and only a fool would meet such an army on an open field.

Mystral, though, lay in the opposite direction – and mage cadres had far more flexibility than men-at-arms. It was possible they might come to aid. He knew they had some sort of compact, though he couldn’t remember the specifics. Some sort of service that had been rendered in the distant past.

Regardless, if Dross was right, an army of beasts was coming. Even if no help would come, they had to find a way.

He’d feel just a little more confident in their chances if he knew anything about siege warfare.

The butler slowed, stopping before a large arched door.

“Sirs, madam, we've arrived. The others are already inside.”

Kaius shared a glance with his team. All of them looked determined and nervous – exactly like he felt.

“Thank you,” Kaius replied.

The butler bowed, then opened the door for them.

The room beyond was large, dominated by a table at its centre. Kaius was met with a council of seven. Rieker, Ro, and Arc were familiar to him. The others were not.

At the head of the table sat a man of moderate stature and a severe gaze that could only have been Governor Hanrik Frent. His rich burgundy robes with purple accents made that clear, as did the medallion of office around his neck.

The others were a little more opaque. Two had the bearing of men who'd seen combat. One had to be the captain of the guard, or similar, judging by the heraldry on his armour — the gnarled skeleton of a tree. The other was harder to place: dressed in leathers, with only an unfamiliar sigil sewn into his breast.

To the right of them was a man in formal attire, shuffling through a stack of notes.

The final member was a woman in priestly robes, who gave them a warm smile as they halted at the threshold.

With all eyes on him and his party, Kaius filed in, taking a seat at the empty section of the table. Porkchop sat on his right, between him and the priestess, while Ianmus and Kenva filed in on his left, between him and Ro.

“I hope we're not late,” Kaius said apologetically. They looked to be the last to arrive.

At the head of the table, Hanrik gave him a warm smile, though it looked a little forced.

“’Tis more that the rest of us are early,” the governor responded. “’It’s lovely to finally meet the four of you, and I must say, what a pleasant surprise it is to have more competent Silvers in the city – though I wish that our first meeting came in less desperate circumstances.

“Allow me to introduce the others who will be assisting us in the defence of this great city.”

Henrik swept his hand down the table.

“Ramsey is my captain of the guard. And the ruffian beside him is Ernst. He’s been doing his best to organise some of the more enthusiastic in the city into something of a militia. They will be leading the rank and file.”

Both men gave him simple nods.

Henrik continued, smiling at the next man in line.

“Fyfen is my aide and chamberlain. He's something of a wizard when it comes to logistics. He will be invaluable for our plan.”

The chamberlain inclined his head politely before Henrik shifted to the last person unfamiliar to Kaius.

“And this is Susanna, the senior priestess of the Myriad Temple. She will be leading relief efforts in the healing centres, if it comes to that.”

The priestess gave them a polite smile. “Let us hope it does not. By the gods' grace, we've been struggling with resources and manpower just with the influx of refugees.” She shook her head. “We won't be able to save everyone.”

“An unfortunate reality of war,” Ramsey, the guard captain, growled.

He sounded experienced. Was the man a veteran? Kaius hadn’t heard of there being a war in decades – at least not outside the dukedoms’ internal territorial jostling. Those were as much competition pomp as they were real battles.

As the priestess was about to reply, the chamberlain, sitting next to her, raised his hand.

“Let us discuss specifics, since our meeting has been called to session. We have too much to cover to approach it haphazardly.”

“Will Dross be joining us?” Kaius asked. The man had vital information, but he'd just lost his team. Gods, he couldn't even imagine the state Dross must have been in. If he lost Ianmus and Kenva — or gods forbid Porkchop…

Kaius clenched his teeth as a surge of anxiety welled up in his stomach. Almost unconsciously, Porkchop shuffled a little closer.

“No,” Ro replied, shaking her head. “It would be a cruelty to make him join this and relive what he has experienced. Besides, he has already told me everything he knows.”

Henrik nodded severely. “His service and sacrifice to the city – and the even greater actions of his team – have earned him a little rest, at the very least. Dross can be looped in later, if and when he is ready to join our defence efforts.”

The governor rose to his feet. “Regardless, we are here for a reason. I call this meeting on the topic of a beastly invasion to session. Now tell me – what do we know?”

“Precious little,” Rieker growled as Henrik took his seat once more. “Long-range scouts are already en route, but I've had to be selective about who I picked. I don't want anyone getting within a dozen leagues of a bloody army, not when a disturbing number of beasts are supposedly Steel strength.”

“What of our scrying?” the captain of the guard asked. “A force that size should be screaming like a bloody bonfire.”

“There's some sort of interference,” Ro replied, scowling. “Something is happening, but movements, numbers, and distances are impossible to tell. It doesn't help that the rise in mana levels has already impacted the accuracy of seers and artifice alike.”

Ernst, the militiaman, raised his brow. “So we have no eyes and no forewarning, except the word of a man grief-stricken by the loss of his team. Are we sure it is wise to move to a war footing on that alone?”

Rieker gripped the edge of the table, thumb-thick oak screaming its protest. “You would challenge Dross? A Silver who has worked these lands for decades, when he could have long since left for easier living, finer sights, and better pay literally anywhere else? You may as well spit on him.”

Breaking his stoic silence, Arc leaned in and placed his hand on Rieker's shoulder. Ernst paled at the war dog's intensity.

“Peace,” Arc said. “This one implores that we focus on what is most important here – the safety of those who will be helpless before such a force.”

Across the table, the priestess Susanna nodded. “Well said. Even unconfirmed, the nature of this threat must be taken seriously.”

“Which is exactly why we have no time to waste,” Ro insisted. “We must seal the city and prepare immediately. Every hour we waste is another that limits our ability to call for aid, and another where every settlement between here and Strang's Spine is at risk of being consumed.”

Kaius paled. He was out of his depth in a conversation like this, but he hadn’t even thought of those villagers. Most of them were weak. If they waited until the beasts were upon them, there was no way they would be able to flee. They weren’t fast enough to escape.

Henrik's mouth drew into a thin line. “Pulling people off their farms and sealing the city will kill just as readily as beasts, Ro. More importantly, we need time to prepare and stockpile. Without an understanding of timeframes and the expediency of this threat, playing our hand early could lead to starvation and a protracted siege.”

“Sir Frent is right,” his chamberlain agreed. “There hasn't been a war on the frontier for three hundred years. We are not prepared, least of all for an assault so sudden and unconventional.”

However, the chamberlain continued as Rieker started to open his mouth, “we should not sit here and do nothing. We must plan wisely, so that we can act swiftly as soon as it is necessary.”

The justification was foreign to Kaius. Was starvation really such an issue? Surely the city had grain stockpiles, and there was the city Delve as well. Teams were constantly clearing out that low layer and bringing back tons of foodstuffs.

“Is the threat of starvation really so dire?” he asked.

The chamberlain gave him a grave nod. “Our population has surged to nearly fifty thousand. That's a month at most, even with the Delve. We'll be burning through fifty tonnes of grain – or equivalent foodstuffs – a day.”

“Are our enemies not beasts?” Porkchop interjected, tilting his head quizzically. “Is there some reason we cannot consume the fallen?”

“Aye…” The chamberlain paused, thinking. “That is a good point. It would be unlikely we could scavenge outside of the walls, but if we assume that some beasts with either flight or climbing capabilities will make it to the front lines of our defences—”

Bending over, he started to scribble in his notes. “There would be losses, of course, to contamination and spoilage, but it could help.”

“What of our defenders?” Ro asked. “I know the guard has been growing stronger, just as fast as my Delvers. But will it be enough?”

The guard captain grunted. “My veterans started to reach Steel months ago. The rank and file are mostly low-Iron – better than they used to be, but still not great. The militia’s… in a rougher spot, though.”

Next to him, Ernst winced. “Most of them are just everyday folk. Wanted a bit of confidence and security in their lives. Been more focused on wrangling them up for basic weapons training and a bit of drilling than actual expeditions to level.”

“This one must ask how weak they are, truly,” Arc said.

“Forty to sixty, mostly,” Ernst replied. “A couple are a little higher. But it’s mostly young folk – those who picked their class after the phase change, or had something vaguely combat-related. Hunters and the like.”

“We can't put them on the walls,” Susanna whispered. “They'll be slaughtered.”

She was right. Someone that weak… a single Steel beast could kill them by accident, let alone thousands of them.

“And if they do not man the walls, then we run the risk of everyone dying anyway,” the guard captain replied.

Kaius’s mind raced. There had to be something they could do to shore up that weakness. He knew better than most the primal terror that could surge when facing down a beast whose strength overwhelmed your own.

They needed to be blooded.

A/N 2: Mostly stopped using dictation to write this week and last. It's great when typing speed is my main bottle neck, but often it's more annoying when i'm having to think a bit more about what i'm writing -- don't actually see too much productivity gain, and I have to deal with gnarly editing cycles to catch errors, and I think its been making my pacing a bit more wibbly wobbly over the last few months. Ah well, I gave it a go, and its still useful when I hit those flow moments.

B4 Chapter 470: War Room, pt. 2

Ro paced at the head of the meeting room, like the frenetic pace of her footfalls could browbeat the very world into submission.

What had happened to Bronwyn and his team, and what had Ro so worried, poisoned every extra moment. It soured into a tangled knot of anticipation that left the soft suede of the seat he sat in feeling as rough as iron filings against his skin.

His impatience didn't matter. Whatever had happened, it was clear there was an emergency. Ro, of all people, knew what was going on, and he trusted her to know if it was more important they explain their time in the Imperial ruins first.

Their explanation had been as swift as they could make it. Ro had taken it as well as he could have expected. Far, far too well, in all honesty. Yes, she paced, striking out a drumbeat of frustration, but even when he revealed the existence of a gods-damned mithril automaton beneath the city, nor his own link to the ancient Eternal Empire and the authority it granted him over the ruins, she hadn’t reacted – or at least her reaction hadn’t changed. Just more footsteps.

Thump after thump after thump. Each one striking tension within him, a miniature peal of thunder.

Yet another step.

The tension within him vibrated like a plucked string with each impact. Gods, he just wanted to know.

“Shall we check if she's okay?” Porkchop asked silently through their bond, and Kaius could tell he projected it to Ianmus and Kenva as well.

“No,” Kaius replied, trusting Porkchop to relay his words. “She's obviously got a lot on her mind. Something has happened. Just give her a little time.”

All of a sudden, Ro snapped to a stop, her heels clacking together like a miniature peal of thunder.

“Fuck.”

That was the only thing she said before the Guild administrator went back to pacing. Locking her arms behind her head, she stared up at the ceiling, like the answers to whatever bothered her might be hidden in the shadows of the beams.

The final step, and Ro let out an explosive sigh.

“Fuck,” she said again. That single word was packed with so much frustration that it may as well have landed like a hammer blow. “The fates truly are fickle bitches, aren't they?”

The Guild administrator paused for a moment before she turned to them. “You are sure that it is benevolent, and that it can hide evidence of the lower levels?”

“As sure as I can be,” Kaius replied.

He rapped his knuckles against his prosthetic, a metal clang ringing out. “That thing could have slaughtered us as easy as I take a breath. It was monstrous. Yet the second it confirmed my identity it showed nothing but obeisance.

“And the generally omnicidal disposition of the other automata? An ancient directive, tied some way to the shattering and whatever conspiracy my ancestors were wrapped up in. I was able to override it, though the Castellan was clear that facilities without a thinking mind such as itself, or ones in worse states of repair, would be far harder to do similar with.”

“Fuck. Okay. Okay. A superficially disabled ruin, some behind-the-curtain support from something powerful. I might be able to use that. Maybe. Maybe,” Ro muttered. It was clear that she was talking to herself. “The automata are not true game changers, if none of them can function outside of the ruin. The Castellan could act if the place was breached… But, no. Better it stays hidden. Word of it getting out might be even more dangerous.”

“Ro,” Ianmus said softly, drawing the Guild administrator's attention as he interrupted her. “What happened with Dross? Bronwyn and the others, are they…?” he trailed off.

Ro grit her teeth and went back to pacing.

That was all the answer that Kaius needed. Fuck, indeed. Gods damn it. Not them. The confirmation of their loss hit him surprisingly hard. It wasn't grief, not truly – he didn't know them well enough for that – but the loss of it all… they were good folks and hard workers, and Deadacre was far worse off without them. No wonder Ro was more stressed than he'd ever seen her before. She would have worked with them closely for years; her direct subordinates being cut down would have cut her deep.

Eventually, Ro found her voice again. “Dross was dragged into the Guildhall by Iron rankers only a few hours before you got here. One of the worst cases of stamina burn I've ever seen. We treated him, but he's still out of it, so I don't have a full picture of what is occurring. He was clear about a few things. The rest of his team are dead.”

“How?” Kenva whispered, her voice horrified.

It was a fair question. Even with the unnatural behaviour of those beasts, and their sheer numbers, Bronwyn and his team were capable and skilled enough to avoid getting pinned down and swarmed. They would have had countermeasures, plans and backup plans.

“A Tyrant,” Ro replied.

Kaius froze. A what? No, it couldn't be. The thought had hung at the back of his mind, but… no. For one long moment, all he could think of was the undeniable fact that his own actions had played into their death. It was a thought that came out of nowhere, struck him like a punch to the blind spot, and left him reeling.

Ro's gaze sharpened. “It's understandable, and if you didn't feel that way, I'd question your capacity for empathy, but if Dross sees it, he'll try to rein his shit in so you don't feel bad. This is not your fault. Got it?”

Kaius swallowed dryly and nodded. He didn't know how, but gods forbid he made a man who had just lost his entire team – the friends he had eaten with, slept next to, and spent every waking moment around for decades – feel worse.

Watching him marshal his expression, Ro gave him a satisfied nod. “A tyrant's not the only thing. Dross is convinced that an army is coming. That the tyrant is leading its beasts back here to attack. We don't know why, but if it's true, it'll be a siege.”

Porkchop straightened. “Are you sure?”

Ro shook her head. “No. I have specialised teams of high Steels making long-distance scouting expeditions now. They should be back by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. Earlier, if there is an army and they're on the move.”

“What do we do?” Ianmus asked.

Kaius agreed. With dozens of villages, tens of thousands of everyday citizens in the city itself… gods. It would be a bloodbath.

“We prepare. Rieker's already meeting with the governor to enact a state of emergency, and draw in as many from the outlying areas into the city as we can. There's a war council tonight. We need you there. With that brawn on this team, you're the only heavy hitters, other than Rieker, myself, and Arc.”

Ro's eyes shifted down to his prosthetic. She winced. “Gods. Let's just hope it doesn't end up in a melee.”

Kaius paled, more aware of the absence of his limb than he ever had been. A siege he could manage with his magic, but swordplay? A melee? Fuck. He could only hope that he would have enough time to recover before anything happened.

Ro drummed her hands on the table. “I need some time with Dross. He's still shaken up, but we need him at the meeting. The guard has already been formed and prepared. If warning goes out that the beasts have been spotted, you should stay ready for battle as well. Otherwise… go back to the Dusty Stables and clean up. You've had a long expedition and you need at least a few hours of rest. Go to the governor's estate at sunset. They already know to expect you.”

“And the ruin?” Kaius asked. It was sturdy, underground, and large. If it did come to a siege, it would be the perfect bunker, but he was worried the odd nature of it, or his involvement when its history got out, could prove ruinous. And yet, he wasn't sure he could live with himself if he sacrificed thousands of lives on the off chance the secrets might be harmful to him.

“We keep it to ourselves for now,” Ro replied. “It's useful, but we can't let the secret of the Castellan or the Sovereign Star or any of your history slip. It is a thing that would prove dangerous not just to you, but the entire bloody city. At the very least, if the Castellan proves trustworthy, and it can falsify the upper levels as an entirely destroyed facility, it’ll make a good redoubt for civilians. I'm not sure, though, I'll need to discuss it with Rieker.”

A wave of shame washed over Kaius at just how relieved that response made him feel.

…

Kaius stared up at the governor's manor, feeling like he might be sick.

It would have been impossible to relax in the hours since they'd talked to Ro, not after what they'd learned. The desperate calls to know more from his fellow guildmates as they'd exited the hall had only made it worse. What did he say? That the strongest team they'd ever known had been killed by some monstrosity, and that all of them might be next? He wasn't built for the attention that came with their new strength. It was a weight that sat uncomfortably on his shoulders.

Gods. It was all he could do to assure them that Rieker and Ro would make an announcement soon enough, and that Dross was healthy, but still too exhausted to properly explain what had occurred. A cop-out answer, but the only one he had.

Now he stood before a building of dark stone, spires and carved buttresses. It was, he'd heard, an ancient thing, as old as the city walls, and Governor Hanrick's ancient ancestor had laid the foundations for what had become Deadacre. A symbol of sovereignty and independence. As the sun dipped behind the horizon, Kaius could only hope that the fates of the city weren’t turning darker as well.

Feeling his glum mood, Porkchop nosed at his arm until Kaius reached up to scratch behind his brother's ear.

“Shall we get going?” Porkchop asked. “Those guards keep getting more nervous the longer we stand here without saying anything.”

Kaius let out a sigh. “Let's.”

“Don't worry, Kaius. We'll figure it out. We always have,” Kenva said, clapping him on the shoulder as they started to move towards the massive arched doors that led into the seat of Deadacre's authority.

He just shook his head. It was a hells of a way to finally meet the governor, that was for sure.

B4 Chapter 469: War Room, pt. 1

Damp bricks formed a low arch as mould, fungus and unknown slime spread, feasting on the detritus present in the sewer. Pitch black, he could only see with his Darkvision, the tunnel rendered in flat shades of grey that washed away all sense of depth.

Kaius scrunched his nose, balling his skirts in his hands as he stepped over a puddle of unknown sludge, and the motion was awkward with his prosthetic. He moved fine, but the lack of sensation left him feeling clunky and unbalanced.

The skirt was a necessary factor, one he'd fashioned from a length of grey cloth he'd had in his storage ring. It would be eye-catching; such a thing was not quite fashionable for men on the frontier, like he'd heard it was in some places far to the west. That said, a little foreign extravagance would be far less notable than openly brandishing the metal of his leg. Even with trousers and his boot covering most of it, it was clear that the limb was false and its motion just a little too fluid to not raise questions. He’d buy some roomier trousers to hide its hard angles soon enough, but for now he'd have to hope his attempts at hiding the thing would hold up.

Thankfully, exiting the sewers was a far less painful experience than their first trip. It must have rained in the city above for some time in the last day or two, washing away most of the muck. The place was still rank, but it was bearable, each of them able to power through it with naught but a determined grimace on their face.

Thankfully, it wouldn't be much longer. They were close to the sluice gate through which they had entered, right in the Delvers' Quarter; from there they would be able to quickly make their way to the Guildhall.

Only half a dozen bends from their exit, Porkchop suddenly halted at the head of their group, ears pricking.

“What's up?” Kaius asked.

His stats were high enough that he could just barely make out the general hubbub of people going about their lives in the streets above, but Porkchop's hearing was naturally far sharper than his.

“I'm not sure. There's some sort of commotion. Lots of people moving — they sound stressed. Maybe we should hurry up.”

Kaius frowned. Some sort of street brawl, perhaps? It was unusual for the Delvers' Quarter, but tensions had been running high in the city.

Ianmus and Kenva seemed equally confused.

“Let’s,” he replied.They picked up the pace.

If there was some sort of confrontation going on that involved delvers, things could get messy. Due to the simple power disparity that was often present between city guards and proper delvers, there was an element of self-policing involved. Even if the average guard was far stronger than they had been before the phase change, so were his guildmates. Things could get messy. Of anyone, they were the best suited to step in, if need be. Hells, they probably wouldn't even need to act physically. The simple aura of their authority would likely be enough, even for Steel.

Leaping to the path on the opposite side of the sewer, they took the next right. Light spilled around the corner ahead, bringing colour with it. Grey stone was joined by a multitudinous smear of green and brown.

They reached a set of stairs in moments, and raced to the iron gate that was their exit at the end of their expedition. It was locked, but they'd been given a key.

They were tucked down an alley far from the main streets, the surrounding buildings hiding any evidence of whatever Porkchop had heard. Though Kaius himself could hear it now — the heavy patter of running feet and the general grumble of voices speaking in hushed tones.

It didn't sound like a brawl.

Kaius shared a confused look with his team before they left for the main streets. Something was up. Surely someone would be able to tell them what.

Almost unconsciously, he took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air and the sun that shone from above. His thoughts might have been preoccupied, but it was still good to be above ground again.

Minor bedlam awaited them when they left the alleys.

Normally, the Delvers' Quarter was relatively quiet compared to the rest of the city. While delvers tended to get raucous in their inns and even the Guildhall, the average combat classer was aware of just how much more capable they were than the average citizen, and tried to keep things respectable.

That didn't stop most from leaving the Delvers' Quarter well enough alone. Even if they did feel comfortable surrounding themselves with others so much stronger than them, the services available were niche and expensive.

It meant, normally, the streets were quiet, with only a few going about their business.

That relative peace had evaporated. Groups gathered in front of shops, whispering in hushed tones. Kaius caught sight of nearly a dozen people running through the streets with concerned looks on their faces.

One came close, rushing away in the opposite direction to where the Guild lay. A tall man, dressed in leathers — a delver. Judging by the flash of an Iron medallion that Kaius caught glinting on his hip, a rather experienced one.

Something was off. They had to know what.

“Ho there,” he said, stepping out of the alley to wave the man down, giving the man plenty of time to spot him and react.

Kaius saw the delver notice and dismiss him in his haste, only for the man to snap back as his eyes widened in recognition.

“You. You're Kaius, right?” the man said, skidding to a halt.

The obvious, relieved droop of the tension in the man's shoulders worried him. He wouldn't be glad to see him unless something had happened.

“You need to get to the Guild,” the delver continued. “Dross was found outside the city, half dead from exhaustion. There's been no sign of Bronwyn and the others. Ro’s got him, but she's playing mum. There's some danger out there that's taken out Silvers. Fuck, I dunno. I just thought you should know.”

“Headmaster’s beard,” Ianmus whispered, horrified.

Kaius's stomach dropped. Surely he'd misheard the man. Or the rumour mill had gotten out of control. Bronwyn's team, they just couldn't… It wasn't possible. They were too seasoned for him to accept it. They were experienced! It had been a simple bloody scouting mission!

They had to get to the Guild. Now.

“We move!” he said, turning back to his team.

“On my back,” Porkchop replied.

Kaius nodded, kicking off with his good leg as he tangled one hand into Porkchop's scruff and hoisted himself onto his brother’s back. The motion was awkward with the weight of his prosthetic, and he nearly tumbled off as the extra momentum made him overshoot.

He knew it was the very reason Porkchop had suggested it in the first place. He still wasn't used to his prosthetic. There was no way that he could keep pace with his team's top speed like this.

They were off a moment later, drawing gasps and panicked murmurs as Ianmus, Kenva and Porkchop wove their way through the groups of people.

There should have been a rush — feeling the wind rush through his hair as he felt Porkchop explode with raw power to tear across the city.

Yet he couldn't get that delver's words out of his head.

Dross had returned alone. It was impossible. Gods, let it just be a story twisted by the rumour mill.

Surely they had just discovered some matter of urgency or a dire emergency that required backup, and they had sent their ranger.

It had to be. And if that was the case, he and his team would be ready to respond to the call. There was no one else here. Not in the current circumstances.

Taking another corner, Kaius saw the looming height of the Guildhall towering over the surrounding buildings, visible despite the fact they were still blocks away. The damned thing was as enrapturing as a funeral pyre, a suffocating weight of dread that blanketed him in its shadow.

Beneath him, Kaius felt the barely suppressed simmer of Porkchop's anger, scorching him through their bond.

“I liked them, Kaius. If they have been killed, we burn Strangspine to the ground.”

The very thought of it darkened his dread into cold determination. That they would.

Reprisals would be had. Gods. He'd been looking forward to finally getting to know the fellow Silvers. Everything he'd heard and everything he'd seen had painted them as competent, gregarious folk who worked hard for the betterment of their city and the people in its surrounding lands. They were a beacon for the people of Deadacre. Something to aspire to. If that had been extinguished…

No. They couldn't be gone. There was some other explanation.

As Porkchop took another pounding leap, Kaius felt his prosthetic tug at his leg. He'd nearly forgotten about it. Gods. Of all the times to get a crippling injury that would last for months.

He squashed the thought.

He could manage just fine. Whatever was needed, he would do it.

Arriving at the base of the Guild, they barely slowed to give the delvers who were milling about the time to part for their approach. Kaius dismounted, making sure to land on his good leg as he raced up the stairs.

Kenva and Ianmus made it there first, not having slowed to wait for him.

Kenva ripped open the door. They were confronted with a packed common room. It fell silent as soon as they arrived.

“Where's Ro?” Kenva yelled.

“With Dross. Third floor infirmary,” someone yelled from deep within the pack.

Silently, a passage opened for them, and as one, they raced for the stairs as a team, driven forward by grim urgency.

Rooms and halls passed in a blur, until suddenly they were there. Ro was outside, her mouth drawn into a tight line of grim resignation.

“Oh, bless the gods and their small mercies,” Ro said as she spotted them. “You're back. Come with me. There's an office nearby. I need an immediate debrief. We have an emergency on our hands.”

Before she swept away down the hall, Kaius saw Ro's mouth purse shut as her eye lingered on the prosthetic that he'd hidden by his makeshift skirt.

The Guild administrator's words deepened that cold weight in his belly. Sharing a long look with his team, they hurried after her.

B4 Interlude 28: Bitter Return

The grasslands rushed past with an indistinct green smear. Every desperate pounding step was another stone's weight of exhaustion upon his back. His bones ached, his muscles burned. His lungs felt like he'd been inhaling glass dust.

Yet despite the sting of sweat in his eyes, and the throbbing of his blood like his arteries were about to burst, it all paled in comparison to the heartbreak.

Dross let out a heaving sob, disguised as an exhausted pant, as he drove himself onwards.

The hammer-blow of fatigue was a good thing. It slowed his thoughts, hammered out that iron grasp of loss.

Gods, those utter bastards. Why? Why now? They were so close. It was a new leaf. They'd just gotten a bit of that fire back. That rush. They couldn't be gone. Why him? Why should he  be the one to live?

Every thought, every line, another dagger carving its way deeper into him.

Vicious thoughts that had hooked themselves deep circled through his mind over and over again as his feet droned a monotonous tempo — a sound that only made him more mad.

He'd barely made it out of Strangspine alive.  Even with all of his skills and all of his abilities, there had been too many damned beasts!

He shouldn't have made it. Not with the way he'd been beset on all sides, carved up by leaping hunters and swooping watchers, as a teeming carpet of living flesh had roiled on the ground below him. Three quarters of his Health gone. Mana halfway. Stamina utterly empty.

Every step was harder than the last. 

Blast the gods, and their fickle and rat-faced favour. They'd abandoned him. Abandoned them all. Sneering down at him with contempt while he killed himself with a death-sprint.

He could feel it — the crawling itch all over his body, his racking cramps spread through his legs as fibres snapped and rewove over and over again. His heart beat too fast. His vision was a bare tunnel, wrapped in a tinny whine.

Without the supportive properties of Stamina to fend off exhaustion, his body was eating itself. Only the maddened pike of grief at his back and the soul-deep duty to the city that had been his home for so many decades keeping him moving. The strain was bad enough, but he could feel his Health ebbing away inexorably.

What would give out first — the final leagues between him and Deadacre, or his resources? He didn't know.

He had to do it anyway. They were coming. Oh gods, they were coming. A single mass, slaves to a hungering will.

His worst fears were realised. His friends were dead. They had failed. Oh gods, they were dead.

Dross remembered that crushing weight as he tore his way out of the jungle and into the surrounding bush. He'd only had a bare half an hour left of his final charge of Airstep. Somehow, he'd broken away from the beasts.

No. Not somehow. He knew exactly how he'd escaped. He'd been allowed to. Not unmolested, unpursued, or uninjured, but allowed all the same.

It was that damned weight. It had been so suffocating, smiting him out of the sky with the gods' own fury.

Her eyes, watching him from the edge of Strangspine, burning and terrible and far too many.

Her words burned.

She was coming. For him. For Deadacre and everyone who lived in it. For the challenges she so desperately craved.

He ran. Not as a survivor, but as a man reduced to being a Tyrant's herald.

Drowning in an ocean of fatigue, in all too much pain, Dross kept running.

Just a few more leagues. 

He would make it. He had to. It was the only bloody thing they'd asked of him.

…

Dross fell to the dirt like a dead man, his heart fluttering in his chest.

He failed. The leagues were too many, and his body too worn.

Earth and dust coated his mouth, and the weight of loss crashed over him.

They had chosen wrong. Bron could have done it. Yan could have done it. Even fucking Julis could have done it. Why him? Why pick him? He’d failed. For nothing.

Over and over, he saw their parting looks — before they had walked face-first to their deaths.

Too strung out to cling to any semblance of conscious wakefulness, Dross mumbled in the dirt. His world was reduced to a small section of yellowed grass pressed close to his face as his breath came in shallow gasps.

He heard it pounding. It could have been feet or his heart.

“By our blighted lands, is that fucking Dross?”

Something rolled him onto his back. The light was blinding.

“By the gods it is. What the fuck happened to him?! Where are the others?”

He heard the meaty sound of a hand striking flesh.

“Fucking look at him, man, and don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to. Come. Call in the others. Whatever did this is too much for Iron to handle, and we need to get him back to the city.”

Something hoisted him up; he couldn't tell what. They still held his weight easy.

“Fuck. He's delirious. Do you think that Yas will be able to keep him stable with her skill?”

“How the fuck should I know, man? He's bloody Silver!”

“Goat’s piss, we best hurry.”

…

Ro gnawed at her lip, a curdled weight in her gut. She couldn't focus on this bloody paperwork. Someone was playing haywire with her instincts, had been ever since that morning. There was no rhyme or reason to it, but she'd learned to trust that feeling many years ago. Something, somewhere, had gone wrong, and the gods had seen fit to make it her problem.

It was, perhaps, the most infuriating sensation of all. Her two best teams were out on jobs — dangerous jobs.

Letting out an explosive breath, she slammed the ream of paper in front of her to the side. No way in all the hells she'd be able to process reports on tax intake and job payouts now.

It was almost a relief when the hammering fist landed on her office door. There it was. Her gut was never wrong.

“Ro! Ro!” Someone unfamiliar to her said with a panicked scream, “Ro!”

Ramming upright, Ro inadvertently slammed her chair back, sending the flimsy pine thing into the wall so hard one leg shattered. Uncaring of the damage, she belted on her sword and had the door open in less than a second.

Tall and panicked, an experienced Bronze delver looked at her with a shocked expression.  Rak, she remembered — the man had no reason to be here. Whatever had happened, it was serious. She shoved the man back, keeping her hand on his shoulder so he didn't lose his footing.

“Tell me on the way. Who's going for Rieker?”

“I…”

“Shattered Axle's man. Quickly!” she snapped.

Rak blinked and nodded, before he turned and hurried away. Gods, the man was pale. What the fuck had happened?

“It's Dross. An Iron team dragged him into the common room only a few moments ago. It's chaos in there. Just about every healer on hand is crowded around him. Man looks half dead. I heard one of the healers say something about Stamina burn and exhaustion.”

Fuck. Had the man run here all the way from Strangspine? He was lucky to be alive. This was bad.

“And the others? Bronwyn, Yanira, and Julis?”

She only saw Rak silently shake his head.

Piss on the gods!

Ro hardened her heart, blocking away the pain of familiar loss. She moved. They were in the common room. There was no point waiting.

Inscribed boards flexed underfoot as she threw everything she had into a sudden forwards leap. Rak stumbled and fell to the side as she shot down the hall. Moments before she hit the far wall, she kicked off again, her boot squealing for traction.

Three more turns and she was there. She couldn't see him. Four dozen delvers crowded around the table. Waves of Life, Water, Nature, Solar and Holy magic streamed from their centre — triage.

A little pointless, a potion appeared in her hand. Hard to acquire, but worth it for Dross. She didn't slow down, only went high, stretching out into a dive as she sailed over the crowd's heads.

Dross was in her arms and she was out again before the first gasps had even left the crowd's lips.

One look was enough. Dross looked skeletal, his cheeks sunken in like he'd been hollowed out from the inside. The bastard must have stripped his body of every gram of fat to stay alive. The fool. He was lucky his heart hadn’t shut down.

Ripping through the Guild hall, she tore up the stairs. Rieker was halfway up, an axe in hand as he tore his way down. She met his eyes, slipping to the side. She grabbed Rieker's hand and used her momentum to yank him after her. A turn on the third floor took them to the medical bay. It was empty. The enchantments laid in the place would help keep Dross stable.

Nestling Dross into the closest cot, she upended the tonic in her hand down his throat. It was exactly what he needed. With her focus on speed, she always kept a supply of revitalisation tonics for this very purpose. Forcing your body to the limit when it was out of Stamina and low on Health could be disastrous. It needed that natural magic to fuel and endure what the body could not otherwise. Stats helped, but dross would be more like her — more weighted towards Dexterity and Strength than Constitution and Vitality.  Too much power, not enough endurance. Not without Stamina.

“What the fuck happened to him?”

“Don't know.”

“Where are the others?”

“Don't know.”

“Fuck,” Rieker growled.

Ro only heard a breath as Dross let out a desperate gasp, his eyes snapping open like he'd been kicked by a mule. She knew from experience that that tonic certainly felt like it.

“I… what?” Dross mumbled, looking at her with glassy eyes. “Ro? Rieker?” he questioned, still dazed.

She crouched down, laying her hand on his shoulder. “Dross. You’re in the Guild hall — an Iron team found you a few hours from the city. I know that you're injured and that you are hurting. But I must be callous — what happened?”

Even if he'd lost his team, Dross was too seasoned to push himself like that all the way from Strangspine unless he absolutely had to.

The weathered lines of desperation that appeared on Dross's face told her she was right.

“I… they're gone, Ro,” Dross choked out, tears welling in his eyes. “They're gone, and it's coming, and there was nothing I could do.”

Ro forced herself to breathe. The man was wrecked in more ways than one. Getting frustrated wouldn't help anyone.

“What's coming, Dross?” Rieker said in a heavy basso, drawing the ranger’s wild eyes.

“A bloody tyrant. And it's bringing all of them. A gods-damned army of beasts.”

Ro met Rieker's eyes.

Fuck. Did her gut always have to be right?

“I'll get Hanrick. We need a war council and he's the only one who can seal the city.”

Ro nodded. “I'll stay with Dross, get him comfortable and learn what I can.”

Rieker was gone a moment later, reaching for the medallion on his belt that granted him authority as Guildmaster. He'd be recalling everyone — from the newly rising to the old and seasoned. She hoped it was fast enough to save those roaming out west. They were lucky — the alert might be able to save some of the outlying villages. Somehow she doubted it. War had come, and death with it. The only question was how many would be lost.

She hated war. So much senseless destruction.

Wetting a cloth from a nearby basin, Ro gently placed it over Dross's forehead as he openly wept. Gods' blood, she'd always known she'd lose more, but did it really have to be Bron and the others?

A/N: Last of the depressing interludes, I promise. Also, my bad for missing the weekend chapter -- saturday was double booked, which lead to me being out and about from 2pm-3am. Sunday involved my best RP of night of the living dead. I'll do a double chapter either tomorrow or the day after, just want to send a block of chapters to my betas and give them a little time to go through the first couple first.