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Bk. 3 Ch. 45
🕑 Added 2025-01-14 01:26:33 +0000 UTC45.
Santi hit the still steaming hot trunk with both feet, his overhead strike blowing apart the charcoal-like exterior of the dryad like a bomb. Burning cinders and blackened wood burst apart in a spray and Santi hung there as the axe blade bit into the toughened trunk. He ripped and pushed off, tearing apart a chunk of the main trunk as he flew backward just as the dryad’s arms struck hard.
The force of the blow did even more damage as Santi watched as pale sap ran like water over the burnt out ruins of its trunk. Then his mouth fell open as the sap started to cause the burnt parts of the tree to slough off like oil on water and fresh and healthy wood showed beneath.
“That’s frustrating.” Santi backed away as he stared at the massive gouged out piece he had ripped out. Sap was pouring out of it in pulsing beats, amber and thick as it caused the dryad to heal faster.
[Wind Blade] sheared off the end of a long arm, the ruined arm hitting the pavement with a loud thump. He cast two more as he closed the distance, further chopping apart the arm as it tried to protect itself. The entire arm was nearly destroyed, but its second arm was already swinging down to hit him. He dodged to the side, rolled on his shoulder and popped back to his feet to chop where the roots connected to the trunk. Another spray of brittle wood and Santi was forced back as the dryad tried to stomp him.
He cast an [Air Shield] and stopped the descending club like arm dead in its tracks. The shield popped a second later, but Santi had already moved again as he dashed close to the trunk again. He hacked away at that wounded leg, chunking away the wood where the trunk met leg and his smile widened as there was a terrible crack and the leg fell off.
The fight fell into a steady rhythm as Santi dodged in and out, his superior speed against the badly injured dryad made it impossible for it to hit him. He cut and chopped and cast in a marathon session until the dryad was stumbling backward.
It died as its last legs cracked and fell apart, tumbling backward to crash to the ground and split apart in a half dozen pieces as the many wounds split apart as it hit the ground. Santi stood watching it for a long moment before retreating back towards where his sister had set up her small base.
The rush of the fight faded and he felt himself shrink down as the burst of strength the curse had fed him left. A string of notifications were on the outskirts of his vision, but he let them be as he continued down and toward the house.
He kept alert, eyes and spells searching for any stragglers that may have managed to escape the trap they had sprung. Santi had to admit that the trap had been a resounding success. The heat spell had been more powerful than he expected and he could only think that Yessenia was responsible in some way. Her class may have amplified the circle to have a higher energy efficiency as it transferred the energy from death into heat.
The house’s front door was still shut and when Santi swung it open the door fell off its broken hinges to hit the floor with a clatter that Santi ignored. A hole was in the side wall and let in a draft as Santi headed toward the small cellar. The outside entrance was barred from the inside and had a tree that had fallen over it so the only entrance left was in the kitchen behind a door for the pantry.
He swung it open and froze as he stared at a golem pointing a razor sharp steel spear at his face. Neither of them moved for a moment and then Santi leaned around the golem and yelled down the stairs.
“Yesi. May I come down?”
“Sure. Hold on for a moment,” Yesi’s voice came up the stairs and then the golem sat straight upright and then backed away down the steps, the solid wood groaning under its footsteps. Santi followed after it and noticed a few of the stairs were noticeably cracked.
Yessenia was sitting in a lawn chair with her feet on an empty ice cooler and was reading a book from the dim light of a pair of candles. She dogeared her page and threw the book into her backpack before zipping it up and tossing it to her golem who caught it smoothly.
“I got six levels sitting down here doing nearly nothing. You?” Yessenia asked.
“Just two plus an achievement for killing the dryad. Will go toward hitting the next tier of my title probably. The level discrepancy was too high for most of those kills to go toward me while yours was close enough that the numbers did the trick. Plenty of low-level Acolytes got baked in that circle. Speaking of, did you do something to increase the potency of the spell?”
“One of my newest skills. Increases the efficiency of any spell circle I make. I’m looking forward to doing the next set of evolutions.”
“Good skill to have. Without it I don’t think that dryad would have gone down so easily. It was more chore than battle to chop it down to size,” Santi said.
“Your jokes are terrible,” Yesi said as she rolled her eyes and they started up the stairs and out of the house. Yessenia glanced toward where they had crafted the spell circle, but she didn’t try to head that way and Santi was glad. That level of heat did nothing pleasant to flesh.
“I saw your smile, you can’t hide that I made you laugh.”
“In pity. Because your joke was pathetic,” Yesi bantered back, her small smile growing.
“Pity? Outrageous! I have great comedic timing!” Yessenia threw her head back and laughed loudly then, a full belly laugh as they walked out of the edge of the town and started back.
“Thank you,” she said as they kept walking in silence for a few minutes.
“For what? Dragging you out here away from your dungeon and having you help me slaughter cursed warriors and tree spirits?”
“No. That part isn’t great. I’m saying thanks for everything else. You built us this place. You and Chloe and Tank and everyone else who fights so hard everyday. You kept us safe until we could learn to protect ourselves.”
“What else are big brothers for,” Santi said, nudging her with his shoulder. They should have been moving faster to get back to the ambush site, but Santi knew Yesi needed this.
“Stop it and be serious for a moment. This is hard and I don’t want to do it again because you’re uncomfortable and keep making bad jokes.” Yessenia’s face was set in a serious expression and they kept walking down the road for a few moments as neither spoke. She started again after a minute as they left the town behind them and out of view.
“It’s been hard on us. I know it’s been hard on you too, but I don’t know how we could have gotten through what happened with Dad if it hadn’t been for you. At least not with us in any one piece. So, I just want to say thank you for being so good about being what we need. You helped Mom regain her power with the training and you let Bianca and Cameron develop without being some over the top protective asshole. And you let me process it in my own way, so…thanks.”
“Yeah. No problem,” Santi whispered. He wasn’t as emotional as he had been when he had first arrived, his non-magical emotions couldn’t control him like they had. But he could still feel them. All of it warring inside of his chest and heart as they walked.
His regression had changed so many thing and he had so few moments to think about it. He kept thinking of what was lost, of Dad and the world, Paulie and Justin and everyone else who had died for him or because of his inaction. He hadn’t stopped to think about what he had saved.
It just made him more desperate to protect it. The fragile sense of community and safety that they were building were under threat and he needed to be the person who could protect them. All of it, not just their physical safety, but the emotional and mental well-being too. Santi had to admit to himself that being a tyrant would likely keep them safe for a while longer, that his strong arm tactics could work even in the long term for awhile.
An iron hand was not what was needed to grow though. He would need to trust them eventually. Trust them to be strong enough and wise enough to avoid the pitfalls of the apocalypse. Because he knew he couldn’t stay here forever. If anything, Duncan’s arrival was a warning that being in one location for so long was a negative. He needed to be proactive, to hunt down the Apostates and to secure the world against the other threats.
He looked at Yessenia who for the first time in weeks looked unburdened by grief. They were leaving the scene of a massacre, but his sister looked at peace and that was worth all the blood. To have her by his side again in the flesh and not a ghost that haunted him.
“After this is over, I’m going to be leaving,” Santi whispered to her. He had made his decision.
