BlueShear
patreon
Chapter 63
🕑 Added 2024-10-22 22:00:11 +0000 UTCIgnoring S. Jun’s rather colorful language, as he described, in livid detail, just what he thought of this whole fifteen second swap idea, Jun briefly took a second to catch his bearings.
That was when stinging lines of pain brought to his attention the bird-like figure hovering up above. It was throwing things at him! Well, that wasn’t very nice. And as far as he knew, there was only one real solution to such heightened levels of rudeness.
“Splitting Chop!”
Jun swung his arm in a splitting arc, and like an elastic extension of his will, his chop soon followed suit. Eating up the distance in no time at all, his aim proved true, and his splitting chop struck home.
Struck… but instead of shearing straight through, as he’d expected, stuck fast—barely penetrating an inch into its icy plumage. What might as well have been icy scale armor. For a long moment Jun gaped. Then… he began to fall.
Unable, or unwilling to let the bird’s rudeness go unanswered, Jun did something implausible. Something so ludicrous it was laughable. Something that should have, by all rights, been impossible. He grabbed hold of his splitting chop by the haft and pulled.
Intending to fell the beast, drag it screaming to the earth below, he instead found himself rapidly pulled closer. And his splitting chop? As if he’d angered it somehow, the elastic band of yellow began to savage his palm. It writhed in his grip like a snake turned on its master.
Resisting him, biting him, trying to cleave him in two.
It seemed uncalled for, bewildering, and was deeply distressing, but a tight grip on the ephemeral reigns kept it from killing him just long enough. His stubborn will alone enough to facilitate the impossible.
Sunlight flashed off of the FrostTailed Phoenix’s glittering plumage, as Jun came within range of a far more devastating…
“Splitting Cho-!”
All light disappeared. Consumed as it was by a scorching cloud of ash. Jun tried to scream, but all that did was give the burning ash easy access. He could feel it beginning to burrow. To choke and spread and burn. Felt it wearing at his eyelids, drilling into his pours. It was agony. Pure agony. And it was only getting worse.
“Switch! Switch! Switch!” Y. Jun subvocalized, before a wave of silver aura exploded out from him—shoving back the burning invasion before it could secure a proper foothold.
Jun coughed, expelling clouds of ash which soon hurried to join the swirling black mass pooling on the edges. Kept in check by his protective aura. The strain of keeping the vicious cloud at bay was immense.
But, gritting his teeth, S. Jun managed it all the same.
That was, until several glittering projectiles punched through the whirling ash to bite large chunks out of his aura, further exacerbating the problem. Jun swore as he once more began to fall. The relentless onslaught peppering him, trying to consume him all the while.
The burning pressure bearing down on him vanished just as soon as Jun slipped beneath the revitalized tumult of the arctic storm. It gave him little comfort. He hit the ground hard, air exploding from his lungs.
Then just lay there for a time, trying to catch his breath.
And meanwhile, all around him, teasing at the corners of his periphery, there was movement. Color, sound, and imminent threat. The blue arc of lightning crackling in the distance, the thwip of fallen projectiles burying themselves in sand, and all the while an elusive shadow stalked—slowly circling its injured prey.
Jun lurched to his feet, though it was a close thing. His efforts were pathetic, pained, and labored. So much so that the idea of rushing headlong into the thick of things didn’t seem entirely possible as he was now.
“Crushing, do that thing again where you punch the ground ineffectually. I have an idea.”
S. Jun growled.
“I really don’t think this is the bloody time for-!”
“Just do it!”
“Alright fine!”
Aura gathered.
Jun reeled back and punched.
The earth shook, the blizzard fled, and millions of grains of sand flew. Like before, the Night-Hunter took this as a prime opportunity to pounce, confident in its ability to outmaneuver any response.
No matter from which direction its prey chose to strike, the Abyssal Night-Hunter could be sure it would appear opposite, claws already flashing for his exposed back. Which ultimately was why the Night-Hunter was caught so completely off guard, when a sphere of crystalline shards—some no larger than the granules it leapt between—rippled out from the human in a glittering cascade.
A wall of jagged ruby tearing its shadow form into pieces, so small, that anything left of its once sleek and deadly form, could just as easily be described as a reddish mist.
Jun staggered, nearly falling to his knees. Mind thoroughly spent from such a massive expenditure, that if it weren’t for the blizzard, and a bit of luck besides, it was likely the series of snaking bolts would’ve taken him out right then and there.
Crackling to life barely a dozen paces away, Jun’s mind raced—desperately grappling for a solution. Abruptly, he froze. Then, he began to smile. With a working of his will, Jun formed a dense splinter of ruby aura, stuck it between his teeth, and began to infuse.
***
The rift spawn stumbled as, not for the first time, the entire arena was rocked by yet another seismic impact. Eleanor, having since come to terms with the apparent monstrousness of her familiar—something they absolutely needed to talk more about if they ever got out of this mess—took the opportunity to duck beneath the hobgoblin’s clumsy swing. Deflecting the club with her upraised buckler and hacking its leg off at the knee in one swift motion.
Taking several quick steps back as the lanky rift spawn fell to the sands screaming, Eleanor kept a roaming eye on her general surroundings while desperately gasping for air. Out of the several dozen rift spawn she’d started with, only a scant few stragglers remained.
Most of them cowering beneath the sweep of her gaze, having since learned to fear the tiny human with the terrible weapons. Wiping sweat from her brow, Eleanor herself marveled at the ease with which her equipment outperformed. And she knew for a fact it didn’t have anything to do with the quality of the steel.
Her sword able to hack off limbs with ease. Like she was cleaving through butter, and not supernaturally reinforced muscle, tendon, and bone. Natural armor wasn’t an issue either when she could just pierce straight through even the hardest outer shell. And when there wasn’t enough room to wind up one of those great big sweeping chops, she found her sword still able to dish out devastating cuts.
One’s which she could’ve sworn bled more profusely than they ought. Even her simple buckler was enhanced by the strange quad nature of the aspect, perpetually wreathed in silver mist as it was. The term shield bash taking on a whole new meaning.
Regaining her breath, Eleanor spared a glance for the ongoing battle—the incomprehensible tumult of chaos and destruction—with the blurred figure of her familiar at its very center. Right then he appeared to be getting the worst out of the exchange.
Taking on a multitude of peak D to low C grade rift spawn—as one casually does—it likely shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise. Though, she could tell through the vague impression of confidence bleeding through their bond that, if he had it his way, things weren’t likely to remain that way for long.
Turning her gaze toward the promenade up above, an ember of fury rekindled in her chest as she watched the growing audience spectate and gawp, instead of rendering even the slightest bit of aid. And while, sure, she knew it was all technically her familiar's fault, they couldn’t be so miffed by all the damages caused as to let them be killed outright.
Surely, they couldn’t be that heartless.
They were supposed to be knights, after all! Even as she watched, more sharply dressed officials appeared to lean over the promenade railing. All of their attention fixed solely on the eastern part of the arena, where Jun fought what appeared to be a losing battle. Likely just as curious as she was as to the eventual outcome. Though Eleanor doubted any of them were nearly so anxious.
***
By the time he was ready to act, Jun had honestly lost count of the number of lightning bolts to arc past his position. The repetitive flash, followed by blue crackle and deafening bang, a steady companion throughout the painstaking imbuing process.
Occasionally, he was forced to dodge the lucky bolt or two, arcing unerringly through the impenetrable screen of white. The abrupt physicality of which swiftly affirming, in no small terms, the actual severity of his injuries.
He was… in a bad way. Understatement of the year. Still, that merely meant he needed to wrap things up quickly. It wouldn’t take much. Piece of cake, really. It was doubtful he’d even break a sweat.
“Piercing! Can I interest you in an opportunity you can’t afford to refuse? The chance to try something new and potentially innovative?”
“If what you intend is what I suspect, I cannot say that I’m especially enamored of the idea. That said, as you mentioned, I find myself unable to refuse. As it stands, we are left with few alternatives.”
“Excellent!”
Checking one more time that his ruby splinter was structurally sound, an impregnable display of unmatched aura mastery, R. Jun relinquished the helm over to Piercing, entirely confident in the quality of his work.
Immediately, thin streams of red mist began to bleed from the increasingly unstable aura construct, like steam being released from a compromised pressure vessel. Without hesitation, G. Jun wrapped the degrading splinter in a thin layer of emerald green aura.
His actions further hastened when contact with his piercing aura only caused the cracking splinter to degrade even faster. Spinning towards where he thought he remembered the weapon wrack being, Jun reeled back and threw.
Propelling the multilayered construct with such force, both natural and otherwise, that it punched a tiny circular hole through the blizzard all the way through—its linear path not altered in the slightest by the flurry of snow and buffeting winds.
Allowing Cutting to retake the helm, Jun felt more than he saw the splinter plink off of the aforementioned weapon rack—that single minuscule impact enough to detonate the construct in an explosion of ruby red mist. Mist which, with the aid of his [Blade Manipulation], he felt was intrinsically tied to him.
Cutting aura bound so tightly that, even as it settled onto the weapon wrack several hundred paces away, it was as if all it would take was a single thought—to simply reach out and grasp it whole. With a deft manipulation, Jun redirected the aura, coating each of the various instruments of war in turn. Quickly solidifying said aura once it was all in place, until each weapon was encased in a thin layer of ruby red crystal. Then, he pulled.
Pulled, and nearly fell flat on his face from the sheer amount of strain that simple act placed on him.
Well damn. I’d really thought that would work.
