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Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (154/?) WiP 2
🕑 Added 2025-11-30 02:16:03 +0000 UTC(Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Here is the Work in Progress for Chapter 154 I hope you guys enjoy! :D This is a bit of a longer WiP than normal too! :D)
Dragon’s Lair. Cave Entrance. Local Time: 2200 Hours.
Ignalius
“LOSANTIA!”
I bore no harsh feelings for the child playing mercenary.
Indeed, if he survived this, I’d have played a vital role in his story. A role which I so enjoyed playing — the curator of the strong and the weak.
He’d grow stronger, become wiser to the world, and perhaps even learn a thing or two about things as they are outside of the colorful realm of delusions and flights of fantasy he was oh-so-clearly suffering from.
That was, of course, provided he did survive.
Which, in the flash that followed, didn’t seem likely.
I lowered my wand, but only ever so slightly, as I awaited the dust to settle, amidst an otherwise unsettling sound that tickled my ears.
=====
Dragon’s Lair. Cave Entrance. Local Time: 2200 Hours.
???
The air bristled with the wrath of a mother scorned.
Her features hidden, her presence muted, but her rage exposed through that sharp and steady droning — an elevating whiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrr that tickled my senses and nipped at my scales.
Energies swirled, manifested from nothing.
I opened my eyes, all of my eyes, watching through a curled snarl.
Do it.
=====
Dragon’s Lair. Cave Entrance. Local Time: 2200 Hours.
Fisia the Flighty
My job had always been simple.
Take care of the horses, stay behind with the mounts and wagons, be ready for any retreat no matter how sudden or swift… and of course, the dreaded clean up duty. A duty which was clearly once again needed as surprise surprise…
The boss had done it again, right in front of me this time in fact.
Not that I minded.
In a repeat of the events at Rontalis, he’d disposed of another set of would-be travelers.
I could only hope that their deaths were of the corporeal variety, as I could already feel the tingly sensation of separating goop from armor when the call to loot eventually came.
Not that I cared much.
A ten, fourty, fifty split was decent.
So I waited, rubbing my eyes in an attempt to work out the ‘haze’ of that soul-splitting atta—
BANG!
POP!
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinngggggggggggg
I screamed out, but heard nothing, only the ringing in one of my ears, and my own cries echoing within my skull.
My hands reached out, grasping the sides of my head, deafened by the sound, and blinded by the pain.
Only a few seconds later, did I finally notice something else besides that infernal ringing.
It started as a thin mist of something warm and viscous, sticking and running down my exposed skin.
Then, an unmistakable metallic tang forcibly entered my nostrils, filling my lungs with a faint rusty scent.
My whole body clenched, freezing in fear, as curiosity finally overtook uncertainty in order to open my eyes to assess what had—
…
No.
Nonononononononono…
I took a step back, falling flat against my rump next to the pool of what had used to be the Alicorn.
My eyes quickly turned to the boss, who stood where the Alicorn had just stood, that fancy armor actually doing what it was supposed to… but not like this.
Because despite the sacrificial swap, the boss should’ve still been wearing it.
It couldn’t have just disappeared.
It couldn’t have just vanished.
The only reason why it could’ve been lost in the swap was if the counterattack had managed to irreparably damage it.
…
…
Crap.
=====
Dragon’s Lair. Cave Entrance. Local Time: 2200 Hours.
Emma
“What the hell?”
[RAILGUN DISCHARGE COMPLETE. AMMUNITION CYCLE… COMPLETE. CHARGE CYCLING IN PROGRESS...]
My eyes widened, as in what seemed like an instantaneous moment in time… I found that my target had quite literally just… swapped places.
The Alicorn… was gone, no sign of its existence remained save for the mist of red that caked the entire area.
And in the space that it had once occupied, was a now-armorless Ignalius, his pure-white gambeson and pants stained, as was much of the left side of his face.
Indeed, quite a few personal affects had scattered from his person following the swap and apparent disappearance of his armor. From sacks of gold, to belts of potions, to even daggers and…
…
No…
I motioned silently for the EVI to hone in on a particular bloodied artifact caked in dried blood at Ignalius’ feet.
A brief zoom, and a cursory glance even without the EVI’s forensics suite was enough for me to tell what it was.
Its suede brown cover, that built-in bookmark resembling a forked tongue, and that handwriting complete with a signature that looped around resembling the four ‘horns’ of a kobold… it beckoned a master that was no longer with us.
If there was any lingering doubt as to Ignalius’ involvement with Togor’s murder, then all of it, every last shred of it, died the moment my eyes landed on that book.
The whole world went silent.
But while all were shocked by the power of the railgun, raw, unmitigated, and loud, I remained silent because of something else entirely.
I fell silent… for silence. Or more accurately, the loss of a voice.
A kind, affable, passionate voice, one whose words were poised to trace a similar path of greatness akin to the michelin guides of old. One whose commitment, whose pure and unmitigated love for his craft, could’ve carved a new era, a new epoch of culinary adventure and exploration. A mind so dedicated with a will so unshakable, that this future was inevitable.
…
Before it wasn’t.
In one tragic instance, fifty, sixty, maybe even a century’s worth of experiences… was cut short.
In one fell swoop, we lost a unique nexus of ideas, a procurer of exotic foods, but most of all — an essayist with so much to say.
And because of a maniac’s rage, a million lives which could have been touched, influenced, moved, or in some way affected by Togor’s writings… would not even have even heard of him.
This death, so preventable, and entirely pointless, had not only stalled what could have been, but erased it from ever being.
I felt that fire within me burning even brighter now, conflicting with the professional soldier that warned against this kind of thing.
But while I would have listened to it in any other instance, perhaps choosing a path of peaceful departure without justifiable cause, the bastard seemed insistent on pushing nudging all the right factors to fulfil the justifiable use of retaliatory force.
I let out a sigh, watching, staring, and glaring through tinted lenses at a would-be noble who’d just narrowly escaped that very thing he so wantonly loved committing.
Then, I unholstered my pistol, glancing momentarily towards Thalmin.
=====
Dragon’s Lair. Cave Entrance. Local Time: 2200 Hours.
Katiya
I couldn’t see.
I couldn’t hear.
My whole body trembled as the golem sent the skies cracking with the sounds of a terrible thunder; its sounds lessened by whatever magics Ser Dreadwolf had casted.
Then, and only when the world had calmed, did I see the beast of beasts, the Master of the Skies second only to the dragonkin… disappear.
I… couldn’t describe it as anything else.
There was, without a shadow of a doubt, nothing else with which to describe what had happened.
A creature that should have been a nightmare for a fully outfitted adventuring party to dispatch, synonymous with an adventuring rank just beneath that of the draconics, had just vanished to an invisible thunder.
I felt my knees wobble, as the golem’s master moved forward to match its posture.
Then, and only then, did the world go mad.
=====
Dragon’s Lair. Cave Entrance. Local Time: 2201 Hours.
Thalmin
The shatorealmer reacted first, swooping in to lift up his master.
“Emma, kill that guy.” I gestured to the evading party. “I’ll deal with the rest of his ilk.” I spoke darkly, as the 29-strong patrol forces moved in to attack.
…
Which meant one was suspiciously absent — the long-eared leporidian.
Though, even without their party leader, and even with the sheer power of Emma’s attacks, their cohesion still remained.
Admirable. I thought to myself with a bloodthirsty smile.
=====
Dragon’s Lair. Cave Entrance. Local Time: 2201 Hours.
Salazan the Scaled
Our orders were clear. The Captain had made the call by virtue of his opening attack.
And I intended on following it… in spite of the odds.
As adorning my scales was the product of ten years of hard pay, layer upon layer upon layer of enchanted linens, hardened gambesons, and thrice-forged mana-steel.
And within my hand, was a weapon no fool could evade.
I lifted my weapon, poised to strike alongside the rest of my berserkers, spears ready and—
ZAP!
I felt my whole body clench, my vision momentarily fading and then exploding into a flurry of colors and blurry wisps.
But I ultimately felt no pain, no real damage as a result of my enchants.
This brought a delighted smile to find home on my face, as I only had to endure the lightning, before moving to…
I felt my armor tightening. Skin pinched under armor that felt two sizes two small, and my head aching from crushing forces I couldn’t make heads or tails of.
Then, I heard it.
Screams from Elazen, Bellatri, and then—
CRACK!
I saw them fall, one by one, every comrade dropping like flies, until finally…
I met the lupinor’s gaze, seeing nothing but a focused, condensed rage.
Then, it all went black.
Comments
The Walrus Transcendent
It also frames how horrifically outmatched the Nexus would be in a conventional war. The alicorn, that much of a Big Deal, got past tense'd by an antimateriel round from a specialist soldier weapon. Because iirc from Emma's reminiscing, yes, suit operators are an elite bunch, but they're still battlefield troops. It was Emma's aunt in particular that was a special forces branch of that arm, no?
Xylophone Smith
really shows how weak everyone in the nexus is without magic and how much the nexus relies on high level magic users despite them making up the minority of their population
PEBZ101
SHES NOT A WIZARD, SHE IS A MAGICIAN. With but a single point of her hand the Alicorn dissapeared with pop!
