Chapter 460 - Trials and Tribulations X

  Olethra watched over the battlefield with her arms crossed and her confidence at a high. Everything was going to plan. Not a single one of the hunting party’s members had been giving the battle their all. They lazed about and fooled around as they waited for their opponents to lower their guard. And lower their guard they did. The Northern Brigade grew greedier as the battle raged on. They committed to heavier attacks and advanced with far greater confidence. Just like moths to a flame.

  Only then, after Lucius gave the signal, did the hunters put their best feet forward. Roumalou regrew his fur and tripled his size. Agrippina increased her speed and filled her strikes with power. Sophia regurgitated and possessed a fresh flamingo’s corpse. And Lucius called upon the power bestowed by his master.

  And it was right then, as the battle entered its second phase, that Claire emerged from Aurora’s winter castle. The awakened caldriess took her sweet time. A smile upon her lips, she stepped through the snow. Her steps were slow, taken with an excess of confidence, but none of the necessary concern. A foolish move she would surely come to regret.

  Perhaps, she could have saved her allies had she burst out of the gates at top speed. But it was far too late.

  Lucius delivered a dagger to Jules’ throat.

  Agrippina appeared behind Krail and cleaved at his chest whilst kicking in Chloe’s skull.

  Sophia grabbed Arciel by the face and unleashed a torrent of mana.

  And Roumalou snatched both his catches between his jaws.

  Olethra’s participation took the form of insurance. She spent seventeen pounds of gold to break Jules’ arm when he reached for Lucius’ wrist and another sixty to cancel out the magic he fired from the palm of his hand. She traded one holy arrow to tie Krail’s tongue when he tried to chant his magic, and offered up a blessed grail to sever the tendons in Chloe’s limbs. Four hundred and eleven kilograms of fully processed diamonds were sacrificed to seal all of Arciel’s magic, and another three thousand one hundred and nine were spent to cut her off from her goddess.

  And finally, most expensive of all, was the relic she crafted and broke to disconnect Allegra’s mind from her body. She very well could have made another exchange and shut down Lana’s domain, but she didn’t bother. Roumalou was more than capable of ending her without the extra assistance.

  Just like that, the battle was over.

  Decided.

  Wrapped up in an instant with precisely the least amount of investment required.

  Olethra raised the speed of perception to its upper limit and spread her arms wide, ready to gather her targets’ souls for phase two. And yet, she found herself empty handed. Though her allies attacked with their full powers unleashed, and though she’d nullified her enemies’ defenses, none of the brigade’s members were dead.

  Jules’ hand snapped back into place as a song crossed the battlefield. Grabbing Lucius by the wrist, he pounded the bee-ogre with a series of point blank explosions. Blood and dust filled the air. In spite of a lack of damage. Lucius emerged unharmed, completely unaffected by the atomic assault, while Jules was restored by the very same song that had sewn his arm together.

  Krail bit straight through his tongue and, with a fresh one grown in its place, continued to cast, even as Agrippina’s sword sank straight through his chest. He didn’t even flinch when her blade passed through his heart. Nor did he fall victim. Just like Jules, he was healed, restored at a rate far beyond that of the incoming damage.

  Her tendons regrown, Chloe ducked under the reindeer’s hoof and buried a knife in her guts. Agrippina barely noticed it, but the need to heal stalled her just long enough for Krail to complete his spell. He blotted the sky with a burst of verdant mana and transformed the surrounding hillscape into a blackened crater.

  For a moment, it still looked like Arciel was struck, her body simply faded into a mass of shadow. Sophia immediately searched her surroundings, only for a mass of darkness to coil around her body.

  Lana didn’t care at all for the fact that the tiger had captured her between his jaws. She didn’t try to stop him from clamping down his teeth, or even mind when he crushed her ribs. Even before Sylvia’s healing took hold, she had started bashing in his nose. Like a berserker, she struck, over and over with maximizing damage as her sole focus. Even as her own bones gave out, even as the blunt force shattered her wrists and fingers, she continued to work her way through his face.

  Somehow, Allegra was just as vicious. She didn’t need direct control over her body. Stringing herself up like a puppet, she engaged with her spring-loaded legs whilst still casting her spells.

  Olethra immediately turned towards the source of the healing and buffing. She was standing in one of the windows, up on two legs with a paw pressed against her chest. Eliminating her was key. It was only because of her ridiculous boost that the brigade was given a chance, and only because of the unexpected healing that the goddess’ contingencies had been thwarted. In fairness, it was her own fault for indulging in her greed. She could have easily assured their deaths had she not tried to attribute them to her companions. But it didn’t change the fact that the fox had ruined her plans.

  Though not much of a supporter herself, Olethra began enchanting her allies with buffs of her own, only to find that they were frozen in place. The true ice that coated their bodies was only two atoms thick—so impossibly thin that Olethra had to rely on the system to uncover its existence. And yet, it was unbreaking, unmoving, and uncompromising as ever.

  She wasn’t even sure exactly when it was cast, but such was to be expected. They stood within Aurora’s domain, the singular place in all seven realms and beyond where she was at her strongest. It only stood to reason that she could have so easily enacted her will.

  An assumption that lasted until she saw Claire’s face.

  The impish confidence marked by her lips was so unnerving that Olethra nearly pulled up the record purely out of the concern that it might have been her doing, but she dismissed the thought before she followed through.

  There was no denying that, for a mortal with three ascensions, Claire was ridiculously powerful. She was far enough ahead of the curve that one had to wonder if considering the median served any purpose in practice. But even so, she was still a thrice-ascended mortal. There was still an upper limit to the extent of her ability, and instantly freezing the hunting party was clearly well beyond it.

  Dismantling the true ice took Olethra very little effort. She simply issued a set of divine directives and forced the matter to change its shape. Her allies were released as soon as they were imprisoned, but even that was too late. The Northern Brigade had regrouped with the newcomer. They stood with imaginary weapons in hand—false implements that existed only on account of bardsong—stances lowered and spirits ready for the next engagement.

  All the hunters’ eyes immediately shifted to the snake-moose, but she didn’t even spare them a glance. She had already turned her attention to her companions.

  “Fall back,” she said.

  Arciel raised her fan to her lips and covered a frown. “I would rather not. You are hardly the only one who has ascended.”

  “I haven’t ascended yet.”

  There was a bit of a pause, with the squid blinking rapidly, and the halfbreed unflinching. Agrippina seemed to want to take advantage of the supposed opening, but Lucius grabbed her by the scruff and kept her from foolishly engaging.

  “What gives!?” shouted the reindeer. “I thought you said you needed to kill her friends!” Lucius, however, only shook his head. He kept his eyes forward while his lips trembled with the same delight that rang through to the tips of his fingers.

  “I need more experience,” said Claire. Olethra could swear that, just for a moment, their eyes happened to meet. “I’m still a little bit short.”

  “Then I suppose I have little choice but to yield,” said the squid, with a triumphant smile. “I hardly have the heart to prevent you from following in my footsteps.”

  Claire smiled. “I won’t be long.”

  “I certainly hope not,” said Arciel. “I will be rather cross should you fail to prove yourself an adequate rival.” The squid seated herself atop a nearby hill whilst gesturing for the others to join her.

  Not all of the members were exactly compliant. Chloe looked like she had a few things to say, And Allegra probably had a few thousand more, but Claire shoved them both away with her vectors.

  “You better not fucking die.” Jules was the only one to raise his voice. And even then, it was only as he turned away.

  Simply smiling, Claire crossed her arms and returned her eyes to the hunters. Her attention was focused on their leader, who was on the verge of jumping for joy.

  While Agrippina was still thoroughly confused, Olethra had no trouble interpreting the bee-ogre’s sentiment. The Claire he found before him was precisely the Claire whose presence he had demanded. Or perhaps, she had taken a step even further.

  Certainly, her rage would have served as an extra layer of flavour, but it was never precisely her fury that Lucius had hoped to elicit. Invoking her anger was simply one way of drawing out the full extent of her strength. And evidently, waiting around had proven itself another.

  As she stood before him, she was precisely a hunter’s wet dream.

  The sort of prey that would buck and resist.

  The sort of game that made hunting worthwhile.

  The sort of head he could proudly hang on his mantle.

  A line of drool ran down his chin as his spirit pitched a tent. His breathing was heavy, erratic as if he were simply a beast. And yet, he was in peak condition.

  His hands shot to the bow on his back as his bloodshot eyes dilated. In an instant, he had her in his sights, an arrow drawn and ready for instant release. It was loaded, enchanted with all the same sealing magic as usual. A single hit would assure his victory. And he had just the trick to ensure that it landed on target.

  He didn’t quite have any abilities quite like Krail’s guarantee. But by invoking his god-given power, he was able to call upon his bow’s secret ability and bestow the arrow with a second enchantment.

  The precise choice he made was light. By crafting the arrow of light, his attack would be capable of reaching its speed. And Olethra’s assistance ensured that it did just that.

  The goddess deleted all of the air between them and created a vacuum precisely at the moment that he released his arrow.

  And yet, he failed to find his mark.

  Claire vanished the moment he attacked. Completely gone from his sightline, she appeared behind him and stabbed at his spine. Had Boris transformed more quickly, he surely would have split the warrior in two.

  Alas, he remained a club until she completed her swing. It wasn’t until he was brought to rest again that he finally became an axe.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Roumalou, Agrippina, and Sophia all attacked at once. But swiping with the weapon only half changed, Claire sent them flying away.

  A frown crossed her lips. After pondering for a moment, and repelling Lucius again, she raised Boris overhead and swung him again. He did his best to accelerate his transformation, but even then, he didn’t finish shapeshifting until he touched the ground.

  She had become too fast for her weapon to respond to her orders.

  “Boris.” Turning him back into an iguana, she gripped his tail with both hands, closed her eyes, and pressed her forehead against his spine. “Ascend.”

  Olethra opened her eyes wide as she felt a sudden surge of divinity. It was at least a few million points, more than a fresh celestial would have had to their name. And all of it was pumped straight through the ikarett’s body.

  Even then, it was silly to consider that he might change, just because she’d order it—if anything, it was more likely for the surge of divinity to kill him—but he did exactly as ordered.

  Boris had yet to ascend despite spending the better part of the month at level one thousand. He knew that, while he certainly could have taken a divine trial, there was no point in making the attempt. Because he wasn’t ready.

  Or more accurately, she wasn’t ready.

  The living weapon had long tied his fate to his master’s. She was the one who determined his fate, the one who changed him, molded him into the veritable armoury that he had eventually become. And so too would his future be forged in her hands, shaped by her preferences and changed to suit her needs. It only fell to reason that he couldn’t have possibly been ready to ascend if she wasn’t ready to wield his ascended form.

  And for a long time, she wasn’t.

  But that was the truth no longer.

  With her explicit instruction, he opened his eyes and changed. The safeguards and barriers that kept their minds apart were torn down by her overflowing divinity. And with them vanished what little remained of the certainty of his form.

  His species was half reclassed to symbiote, the clearest sign of which was the change that he made to his master. Turning into a tiny flake, his main body integrated with her spine and became an extension of her central nervous system. Two additional modules sprouted from her flesh as soon as the connection was established—two half-metal wings, glimmering beneath the stars.

  The plumes were made of swords, daggers, and spears—blades of ice and steel that could be pulled and put to use at a moment’s notice. Perhaps in a way, they had stolen the concept from Vella. And if he wanted, Boris could emulate the precise look sported by her wings, though he knew better than to call the fact to attention.

  For though he became a part of her, so too did he remain himself. Additional Borises spawned all around them, remaining sometimes as ikaretts, and other times as whatever weapons she pleased.

  Olethra balked.

  There was hardly such a thing as a mortal with the right to initiate another’s ascension, let alone seize the reins from the system’s grasp. The ludicrous, absurd result stood far beyond the realm of rationality. It couldn’t have possibly been allowed.

  Olethra opened the system’s dialogue and filed an immediate objection—a bid to reverse the lizard’s irrational progress on account of clear abuse.

  A reply came within three ticks. The trade goddess opened it in a hurry and affirmed that Flitzegarde had written a personal reply. And yet, her ticket’s notion had been ultimately rejected. The system had deemed the result to be reasonable, and the lizard’s patron had appended his seal of approval. So too was the letter accompanied by a clause of finality. Regardless of any arguments she brought to the table, despite having witnessed the irrationality first hand, she was left without any method of leveraging the system for justice.

  But Olethra was hardly discouraged.

  After all, there was a simple solution.

  She was a god.

  And the caldriess was still mortal.

  Judgement was as simple as performing an act of violence.

  She was hardly the only one to have the thought. Lucius burst from the snow with a roar. His tattoos glowing in his god’s golden light, he triggered his ultimate ability.

  Seeing his vigour, Olethra lowered her hand. The battle was as good as decided.

  Kael’ahruus’ fang traced a perfect arc through the air. His strike was swift and his technique was perfect. Perhaps even Vella might have approved of his practiced form. But all he received for his efforts was a lizard through the chest.

  But then, there was a distortion, a brief rewinding that returned him to his previous position. Suddenly, he was unharmed, charging in again with his dagger at the ready. The snake-moose was also returned to her last place in time, but unlike the hunter’s apprentice, she retained no memory of his defeat.

  Again, he swung his blade. And again, she beat him out with a thrust.

  His second attempt, however, came with the counter in mind. He twisted his body out of the way, only for Boris to transform into an axe, change direction, and rip right through his chest.

  Neither that nor the preceding stab should have been able to harm him. His faith guarded his body. He was supposed to be as invulnerable as his belief was firm. And certainly, he was convinced. His shield was almighty. She could never pierce it. And yet, the lizard ate into his flesh. It ignored his defense and caused his blood to pour from his veins.

  So he returned to his starting point again.

  As the aspect of the scrying eye, Lucius was blessed with the power of hindsight actualization. Upon its activation, his ultimate ability recorded a temporal waypoint—a precise moment in time that he could freely return to. He could only maintain a single distortion and it would shatter if he ventured a full second away. But a second was more than plenty.

  He attacked with gusto, entirely confident in his victory. There was no other conclusion ahead. He would simply tailor his approach, adjusting his attacks in response to her reactions until he discovered a weakness.

  It had worked on both of the crowned heads he’d claimed.

  She shouldn’t have been any different.

  And yet, he found his frustrations compounding.

  It didn’t matter how he changed his methods or what he was able to dodge. He always met his end by the fifth exchange. Unlike many of the foes he’d fought before, who would always attack the same way when presented the same conditions, her choices were rarely identical. He thought that, perhaps, the lack of consistency was precisely what he needed in order to create an opening. But it didn’t matter what he did or how many times he tried it. She would always react to whatever he tried and rebuff him with an appropriate response.

  He made a million attempts before abandoning the assault, only to find her defence the least of problems. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t disengage. She was too good at pressing the advantage. Soon, he abandoned his pride and staked his hopes on soliciting Olethra’s assistance. But so too did she see through that as well. Every time he tried, Claire would grab him by the face before he could open his mouth. Every time he tried, she slit his throat before he could raise voice. Every time he tried, she arranged for his immediate execution.

  He didn’t know how it was possible for her attacks to reach.

  He was clearly much faster, and it wasn’t like his ultimate was ineffective. After all, it even worked on Olethra—it was only by accessing the system’s records that she could tell he’d even put the technique to work.

  And yet, even when he escaped her vision, she always knew his next move and exactly how she was meant to counter it.

  One way or another, she would always land a hit.

  It took another ten thousand repetitions for him to give up entirely. His anchor was without a solution; he had no choice but to allow her to strike him.

  After some debate, he settled for enduring a thrust—the first, casual attack she’d returned when he tried to charge her. It was the lightest blow in her kit. The only one that didn’t completely destroy him.

  Or at least that was what he assumed before he allowed time to continue.

  He thought that he was fine. It appeared as if he was simply knocked into the snow a mile away, and left with his body half buried in one of the hills. But as he rose to his feet, he found that everything was heavy. His limbs were utterly unresponsive, and gazing at his chest, he affirmed that his flesh was bruised and bleeding.

  Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

  The blood wasn’t stopping in spite of his best efforts, only spreading further through his form and ripping his body apart; tiny petals of true ice blossomed inside of him. They spread from the point of contact, corrupting his circuits and veins in turn as they extended their range.

  The others immediately rushed to his aid.

  Or rather, they rushed at his opponent.

  Claire, however, only spread her wings and unleashed a torrent of blades. The individual attacks were as accurate as they were highly destructive. They tore through Roumalou’s hide and obliterated Sophia’s flesh. It was only thanks to Olethra that they were saved. She teleported forward, raised a shield in front of her, and blocked all further projectiles.

  Agrippina was the only one who didn’t take shelter. The reindeer must have been impaled at least a dozen times over, but she continued with the swords and spears still stuck in her flesh and used her speed to loop behind her foe.

  Only then did Olethra finally attack. She gathered a wad of divinity in hand and shaped it into a rondel. Gripping it by the blade, she launched the dagger with a flick of the wrist and sent it across the sky.

  At a glance, it almost seemed harmless. After all, it was but a simple thrown knife with no extraordinary features built in. Its appearance, however, was hardly indicative of its power. For Olethra had realised that their judgement was mistaken.

  Claire was a far greater threat than any one of their members had ever imagined.

  She didn’t understand. Vella had affirmed, since the first day of their alliance, that she had long sealed her martial talent. Kael’ahruus had attested, following a recent encounter, that she lacked the strength to threaten a god. Olethra herself had ascertained, during her heavenly visitation, that her most powerful abilities were barred behind the system’s restrictions. And yet, the hunters had failed; she had repelled four aspects with ease. The goddess knew she had no choice. She couldn’t pull her punches.

  Made of Olethra’s divinity, the dagger she launched was enchanted with the concept of bracketed taxation. For each blessing that the target possessed, its power would be increased twofold. The scaling was entirely multiplicative—two blessings merited a fourfold increase, while four assured sixteen. With everything that Claire had sitting under her belt, she was certain to suffer a blow of cataclysmic promotions.

  After all, even without its power increased, the dagger contained enough force to shatter a planet to pieces. For its speed was inversely proportional to the duration of its existence, and one released at the moment of its making would match the speed of light.

  There was no opportunity for Claire to react, let alone mount a viable defence.

  And yet, their gazes locked. Olethra was met with a cold, contemptuous gaze, perhaps even mocking or derisive. The goddess wrote it off as a figment of her imagination. Either that, or a pointless facade. Whatever the case, she set the thought aside and prepared for impact, but the dagger never found its mark. In fact, she hadn’t the slightest clue as to where it went or why—it moved so quickly that it vanished as soon as it left her fingers.

  Thoroughly confused, the divine parasaurolophus repeated the attack whilst accelerating the speed of her perception. A second rondel dagger whooshed through the air, atomizing its superheated surroundings. She was certain that the attack was on due course. It would find the halfbreed’s skull and obliterate its contents on contact. She was sure of it. Claire didn’t budge, even as it drew within an inch of touching her skin.

  But then, there was a distortion.

  A sock puppet resembling a misshapen horse appeared in front of the blade with its mouth wide open. The blade entered the beast’s maw, but it never emerged from the other side. The strange creature closed its mouth, rubbed its stomach, and belched as it returned to the aether.

  Olethra’s jaw dropped.

  It just wasn’t possible. She didn’t understand how or what or why. She immediately opened up a console and demanded the relevant information. She needed to know its limits in order to overcome them. But somehow, even though Claire’s sheet had been free to read, just a few moments prior, she found her access denied.

  Agrippina got into position as the goddess mulled over the impossible response.

  She charged at Claire’s back, with both swords extended and prepared to strike at the base of her neck.

  She was practically primed to succeed.

  But Claire spun around before the moment of contact and twisted her empty hand into a heavy hook. The punch landed right where Agrippina’s humanoid half met its cervidian counterpart. Her flesh distorted as a ripple of force traveled all the way through her body.

  There was a brief pause, a moment of stillness where it looked as if the attack was ineffective.

  A moment that ended with a bloody explosion.

  Chunks of flesh and bone littered the hills as Agrippina’s upper half was sent skidding through the snow. It should have been the type of wound that could have been easily restored. Her head and brainstem were both still perfectly intact. Nothing was stopping her from thinking, from ordering her body’s restoration.

  But no matter how loudly she screamed for it to heal, her flesh was never repaired.

  It didn’t make sense. She was a Cadrian aspect, a bloodthirsty warrior capable of restoring her body from a few stray specks of grey matter.

  At least not unless her body had exceeded its threshold for damage.

  Just like that, one was down and another was dead.

  Claire craned her neck to the three still remaining.

  While Olethra turned deathly pale.

  A visceral dread coursed through the goddess’ body as she met the halfbreed’s eyes.

  They were icy.

  Dismissive.

  And alight in red and gold.